#Spif writes

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 4:

Bet y’all thought I was done with this. I’m not done, I was just stuck on this part for a really long time. It wasn’t going the way I wanted it to, but then again, I always have doubts when it comes to Starscream’s characterization.

Anyway, it ended up being pretty long. 1298 words. I’m not all too satisfied with it, but I gotta just post it and move on.

Part 3: here

——————————————————————————

“Starscream.”

He opened his optics once more, taking a few seconds to recalibrate. It appeared that he had actually fallen into a recharge without noticing. He looked down at himself, seeing that his arms and chest were looking…shinier than usual. He flexed his digits, touching the tip of every talon to his thumb. She’d done a good job, for a human. Collecting himself but still feeling a little drowsy, Starscream looked down at her.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I need to clean your vents.”

He bristled at that statement, his expression quickly turning sour. “You don’t need to do that.” He waved a servo, wings flattening behind his back.

“Come on, would you rather be breathing dirty air for the rest of your life?”

“My cooling system cleans itself.” He huffed. “I thought you knew that by now.”

“Your air filtration and internal components do. The vents don’t. They’re external.” Damnit, why did she have to know so much about cybertronian biology? The human reached up, her hands grabbing onto the vents on both sides of his face and tugging on them. He grumbled at that, still wanting to avoid this wretched fate. Nevertheless, he allowed her to pull him down. He knew by now that arguing would be pointless.

“I won’t get any water in, I’m just gonna run a towel over them.” She let go of him, stepping out of the bathtub. She quietly walked to a cabinet, opening it and grabbing a soft little towel. The human ran some warm water over it, before squeezing out the excess and returning to him.

“Lean on the side of the tub, please?”

He didn’t say anything, but did as told. His wings were hanging low, as flat as they possibly could be. Seriously? Did he hate vent cleaning that much?

“This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

He only grumbled in response.

The human brought the towel up to him, first rubbing it over his faceplate to wipe off anything that wasn’t cleaned by the initial run of water. She cleaned him with the soft cloth using one hand, the other holding onto the side of his vent intake to keep him still. Starscream had shut his optics as tightly as possible, not moving an inch during this part of the cleanup.

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” She asked, her voice gentle as if talking to a child. “Doesn’t that warmth feel so soothing, Starscream?”

“Don’t patronize me.” He replied, his voice muffled from the towel she kept rubbing on his face. The human just chuckled at the sight.

“Now if you just tilt your head back, I can move on to the vents.”

He did as instructed, but she could easily see how tense he was. Starscream’s servos gripped the sides of the bathtub, holding himself still. She tilted his chin up ever so slightly, noting that the seeker still refused to open his optics. Slowly and being as gentle as possible, she pressed the towel into his vents, using her fingers to assist in cleaning any grime off the grilles. The process went smoothly for the most part, Starscream obviously uncomfortable but managing to keep himself still. All the way until-

He yelled and kicked up the water when she touched a bad spot, his servos finding and gripping her wrists as he pulled her away from himself.

“That’s enough touching, thank you very much.” Starscream scrambled away to the other corner of the tub, a flash of irritation on his faceplate and a defensiveness to his mannerisms.

“Hang on, I think I saw something in there.”

The seeker wrapped his arms around his frame, pulling his knees all the way up to his chest. The human let out a soft sigh, sitting on the side of the tub and trying to sound as gentle as possible.

“Do you want me to get it?”

He met her gaze and the look on his faceplate momentarily shifted as though she’d just offered to rip his spark out. Then, his expression changed again to one of contemplation. He knew this was going to hurt. But he also knew that he was going to feel much worse over the long run if she didn’t get it out. Could she really, though? Get it out?

Starscream could tolerate pain, best to just get it over with. Better her than asking the Autobots for help. Fine, he’d trust her to get it out.

“Fine. Just… be quick about it?” He asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

The human nodded, and Starscream shuffled back to his previous spot, unusually timid. He was partially acting, pretending to be more scared than he actually was with the hope that it’d earn him a gentler touch.

“Try not to make any sudden moves, alright? I won’t lose a finger if you flinch, not there, but please… be mindful of your strength.”

“Right. The usual.” He replied with a tiny chuckle and a subtle crack of his voice.

Evidently, it had worked. She held his faceplate between her hands, positioning it just right so she could see inside the grilles- which he had feathered to a 90-degree angle for better access.

“Thank you.”

She leaned forward, peering inside. Once she had a good look at the piece of debris, she spoke up.

“Okay, I’m gonna start now. Don’t panic.”

Starscream didn’t resist, just kept his optics shut hoping that this would all be done soon. Carefully, the human reached her fingers inside- this felt weird. This felt so weird. Cooling vents were not supposed to have anything solid entering them. Not so deep. Even though he knew the human’s hand was there to help him, that she was not a threat, he had to clench his servos in order to ignore every coded instinct telling him to keep his vents clear, to remove the obstruction that was her hand immediately.

He was so focused on keeping still that he didn’t even realised she was done until his temperature regulation system suddenly stopped yelling at him. Hesitantly opening his optics once more, he was met with the sight of the human looking down at him, a shard of metal in her hand covered in dried energon.

The first thing he felt was relief, as he took in a strong intake of air and a slight smile found its way to his faceplate.

That hadn’t hurt all that much.

“See? Got it out. didn’t hurt too much, I hope.”

Seeing as he didn’t reply, she continued.

“But I think it left behind a cut, do you need me t-“

Oh no. He knew exactly what she was going to ask, and he wouldn’t allow it.

“No, no need!” he suddenly cut her off, and grabbed the piece of shrapnel from her hand, examining it. “If this is all that was in there… my frame will be able to repair any leftover damage on its own now.”

He turned his gaze back down to her.

“As helpful as you have been, I’d rather not have you rooting through my internals any longer than you absolutely have to. Especially there.” he explained, an aversion of his optics accompanying that last word. He didn’t want to seem rude, especially after all this human had done.

“Hmm, that’s fair. I guess I see why it’d be uncomfortable if our roles were reversed.”

He was relieved at her understanding. Well, his problem was solved. He should probably thank her for that. Starscream scoffed. He was doing too much thanking today.

“I’m…grateful. For the help.”

She smiled. Huh. There she went again. He could really get used to that.

“Don’t mention it. Must’ve been painful. And besides, it’s not time to thank me yet. We’ve still gotta do your wings.”

[nevvaraven]

you’re v fun + easygoing + we (guy who is not in this) wrote a killer essay together once (i gave u my unasked for opinion). my opinion in a word? spiffing.

I got a first on that essay 🌚 I owe it all to you truly

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Maybe Ghost Konig and any other cod characters you write for with an s/o who’s very insecure about their stretch marks? Thank you very much

MW2 w/ an S/O who is Insecure about their Stretch Marks

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, No Pronouns used for Reader except for 'You', Implications of Smut, Knife Play, Insecurity, Anxiety/Upset, Minor Implications/Spoilers about Ghost’s Past, Mention of a Strap-On, Brief Mention of Murder/Killing, Angst, Fluff, Possessiveness, Protectiveness, etc.

Ghost:

Has absolutely zero clue as to why you're insecure about your stretch marks.

Genuinely never even thought of them before now, even though he’s seen them many a time.

However, when you expressed concerns over the way you looked - the way you felt - because of these marks, he set about trying to make you feel better immediately.

He’s not the most emotionally mature person; having to grow up as quickly as he did at such an early age definitely stunted his emotional growth, making it difficult for him to feel and express emotions clearly.

But for you, he’ll try his best.

He starts nuzzling into your thighs and stomach more often outside of sex; just tender moments between the two of you, with him showcasing how much he loves you and your body.

He’d try words of affirmation, saying how he thought you looked “Positively spiffing” (he was using the term humorously but meant every word) in your outfit.

Whenever you cracked a smile, he’d feel triumph bloom like solid gold in his chest, casting him in a glow of pride.

Eventually, he’d showcase to you the parts of himself he would never show another soul.

One evening, Simon had his hoodie off, his back and chest fully exposed to you. And all the scars that seared across them. You tracked your finger along them, creeping from one gash to another. All the while, Simon rhymed them off to you: when, where and how he’d gotten them.

You traced one on his shoulder blade. The warm glow of the room belying the horrific means through which the scar was attained.

“Paris, terrorist attack, twenty-ten.”

“I never heard of an attack in Paris then,” you said, tone questioning.

Simon cast a lopsided smile over his shoulder at you. You caught it.

“That’s the point.”

He turned to face you fully, placing a hand on your waist, beginning to hike your shirt up. You placed your hands over his, shaking your head, a wide-eyed expression overtaking you.

“No, Simon,” you said quietly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. His head tilted.

“Why not?” He said. “Have I done something to upset you?”

At that, your eyes snapped up and found his, dark and gleaming. You shook your head, vehement in your judgement.

“No, God no! Simon, it’s not you, it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s you - don’t you dare say it.” 

The authority in his tone made you ache in places you didn’t want to think about right now. You shifted.

“But…it is me, Simon.” You felt your eyes and throat sting with tears. “It’s always me.”

“Love–” Simon’s movements were stutterish as he took your chin in his hand and inched your face up to meet his. You tried resisting, but he wasn’t going to let this rest. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

There lay a desperation in his voice you’d never heard before, and neither had Simon. You sniffed, and, your eyes shimmering with tears, you looked up at him. Only sincerity painted his features, no trace of condemnation or judgement hanging upon a single point. You swallowed.

“It’s just that…I appreciate what you’re doing for me - believe me, I do ! - but…”

“...But…?”

“But your scars mean something; you got them through protecting people, fighting for them - caring for what matters most–” You choked on a sob, tears starting to roll down your cheeks. “And mine are just…” it burned your tongue to say it, “there.”

Simon went quiet for a moment.

“(Y/N)...” His voice was a rumble of thunder, the cleansing storm rising over the tainted hill. He took your hands in his, abandoning your shirt. He rubbed reassurances into your hands, tracing the veins, the valleys of muscle and the alleys of life which pumped through them. His eyes seemed to turn down at the ends, round, doe-like.

“Your marks are not ‘just there’.” He wiped a stream of tears indenting the heather face of your cheek, and his hand remained there, collecting those which followed. “They are evidence of how you’ve lived, how you’ve survived,”

His hand dropped to your chin, bringing your face up to his once more, shining his moonbeams upon you.

“They show how you’ve grown. How you’ve lived and enjoyed a life you made for yourself. Your marks succeed where mine have failed; yours scream life, while mine whisper death - a life loved, and lives taken.”

Your mouth fell open. You were aghast, unable to conjure anything in your vocabulary that was either expansive or emotive enough to convey all that you felt. Your chest broke out into warmth, the dawn of a new perspective shining upon you as Simon did now.

Before you could form a sentence - as blubbering and elementary as it would be - Simon pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. It was warm, all-encompassing, musical and low in the ringing silence of your desolate ocean.

He parted, cautiously, lips peeling from yours as if you were attached there, and looked upon you. Your cheeks were beginning to sting with the salt of your tears, vaguely chemical against your skin. You clambered into Simon’s arms, wounded and healing, and encompassed as much of him in your arms as you could.

“Your scars are beautiful, Simon,” you whispered into his chest. “No matter what you think - no matter what you say - I’ll always find them so.” You nuzzled into his neck. “I’ll always find them you.”

You heard Simon sniff, felt his chest rise with the sudden influx of air - emotion. You didn’t look up. You allowed him emotional anonymity.

“And I’ll always love your marks, (Y/N),” his voice strained, whispering and wisping. “I’ll always love them on you–” he pressed a strong, permanent kiss to your head, “--I’ll always love you.”

The evening consumed you, whisking you from the mortal coil to that of the metaphysical, that which was hidden to all but you and Simon, where you joined once again, physical bodies bound in a tight embrace, slumbering, dreaming.

König:

You actually came to König, sliding into his lap as he read a book, unable to keep what was eating you alive a secret any longer.

“Maus?” he said, putting Pride and Prejudice down and turning his full attention to you. “Is something the matter?”

You kept your head down and nuzzled into his chest, hoping his shirt would soak the tears staining your cheeks.

König tried to crane his neck down to see your face, but you hid it further into the cotton of his jumper.

König sighed, then began rubbing your back with a large hand.

“Whatever it is, we can fix it,” he said softly, gently. “No matter what.”

Maye thirty minutes passed, maybe it was only five, and König remained quiet for the duration, occasionally squeezing you and pressing a kiss to your head.

“I hate them,” you muttered, voice muffled by König’s chest.

Immediately, his back was up, like a cat’s. If he had the ears, they’d have been pricked.

“What?” he said, voice hard and thin, like a spear. You jumped in his lap and he sank back down, patting your head, a silent apology for his outburst.

His voice sounded as if it were spread thin, trying to conceal something far bigger than itself.

“Who has upset you so, maus?” He was careful with his words, trying to keep the extent of his bubbling anger at bay.

Finally, you looked up into his large, soft gaze. His eyes widened.

Your face was red in places, a map of countries in a continent called Sorrow.

Your eyes glistened, and König’s breath caught in his throat.

Before he could ask what was wrong, you shuffled off his lap and stood before him. You lifted your top and held it in your limp hand.

König’s eyes moved across your body as if searching for an injury, and when he turned up nothing, he looked you in the eyes.

“Maus, my lovely– I don’t understand,” König said as he shifted to the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up at your command.

You sighed deeply. “Don’t you see?” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Don’t you see them, König?”

“See what?” His tone was becoming gradually frantic.

You huffed. “My marks, König! My– ugly– disgusting–”

“Hey, hey–” he slid off the sofa and enveloped you in his arms, holding you close to him, “--they are not ugly! Just– listen to me, maus–

“How do you deal with them?” you said, quiet as your namesake. Exasperated. “Your scars, Köni…how do you live with them?” Your voice croaked with tears, and the lump in your throat grew, bobbed up and down. It burned, reminded you of why you were here to begin with.

König thought for a moment, going quiet, his arms still wrapped around you. His hand squeezed your shoulder, fingers pressing soft, repetitive circles into your skin, a cycle of comfort. His warmth - his scent of pine - filled your senses, held you as he did now.

“There was a time,” he said, finally, his voice a whisper, “not too long ago, when… they made me hate myself, hate what I’d become.” He took your chin between his fingers and inched your face to meet his. He smiled, eyes crinkling. “But then I met you, and you told me how pretty you thought they were; ‘like tattoos,’ you said.” The memory tickled your mind and you couldn’t help but smile at the image of you sat on König’s chest, trailing a light finger just below his scars, afraid to touch them - their history - for fear it would hurt your dear König. He urged you to feel them, to make himself entirely transparent to you.

 “And that’s how I have grown to like - to love - them. Because your opinion means more to me than mine does.”

The stinging sensation in your eyes strengthened, and you couldn’t help but let a tear slip. Though, not of your own despair, but of your love for König, and his apparent adoration for you. König could tell your tears were not of sorrow, and he pressed a slow, light kiss to your lips.

“Unless you’re planning on leaving me for another man, I suggest you only listen to me from now on.” His smile made his cheeks round and full, his eyes turn into half moons.

“And what makes you sure I could leave you for someone else?” you said, speculatively, jokingly. Inquisitively. König gave an honest chuckle, taking your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks.

“With a body like that, you could have any man you wanted.” His tone was light yet held a hidden weight, a seriousness, perhaps an insecurity, he didn’t want to address. “I’m just glad you chose me.”

He punctuated his claim with another kiss, deeper, hotter this time.

Soap:

You were turned over in bed beside Soap, who, despite your best efforts to conceal yourself, heard your soft chokes of tears.

His initial, instinctive reaction had been to envelop you in his kisses, slip his arms around your waist and pull you flush against him, to implore you to tell him what had made you so upset.

But, as he lay on his side of the bed, listening to your silken sobs into your pillow, he felt his chest break out into weighted feeling of dread, tree roots digging through the skin and into his very being, tinging his blood with a most negative sensation of blackened lightning.

Empathy, one might call it. He was feeling what you felt.

He couldn’t take it, your tears, your despair, and so he turned, gently, onto his other side and faced your back.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you flinched.

“Oh!” you said, patting your face with your sleeve. “Sorry, Johnny– I didn’t mean to wake you,”

Your voice was deceivingly light, airy - a front to throw Soap off your scent.

Soap didn’t bother with the formalities. His only priority now was you.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he said. He pulled your shoulder back, willing you to at least look at him.

You didn’t move.

You refused to.

“Nothing, love,” you said, hushed beneath the tension in the room.

You turned, offering only a peak of your facial silhouette, sacrificing it to the sliver of moonlight peeking through the blinds.

It was wet, despite your best efforts to conceal any evidence of your upset.

Soap restrained a sigh and watched you try to burrow your way back into your pillow before he started asking any more questions. Without warning, he forced you to look at him, pulling you so you lay on your back. He sank down on top of you, knees bolted to your sides - one of which sat dangerously close to the edge of the bed, threatening to slip off at any moment.

His gaze was direct and impenetrable as he searched your eyes, hands pinning your wrists beside your head. His strength was unrelenting, unmoving. He wasn’t going to let you off easy on this.

“Now, then,” he said, voice low and dyed an erotic tone of resolution with his accent. “Are ye gonna tell me what’s upset you, or am I gonna have to force it out of ye?”

You knew he was joking, and you shared the knowledge that this was his way of trying to make you feel secure - that you could trust him. But of course, you already knew that.

You gaze drifted down to where yours and Soap’s thighs met, and the weight that had been pressing on you for weeks jumped down onto your chest again, urging a fresh set of tears to emerge. You looked away, off to the side, hoping you could hide the dried streaks your tears had left behind.

“Hey, Sweetie, look at me– look at me.” Soap’s voice grew stern, and, when you refused to cooperate, he took your chin between his fingers and made you look at him, grip decidedly firm yet gentle.

“Angel, baby–” his eyes pleaded with you for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t hold it anymore and burst into tears, trying to keep your sobs quiet. Soap remained atop you, caressing the side of your face. Your tears were thick, almost viscous with all that had caused them, as if they, too, bore the weight of what plagued you.

“My marks,” you said, your voice merely a sound rather than a sentence. Soap’s head tilted as he looked down at you.

“What was that?” he said, unsure as to whether he’d heard you correctly. You sniffed, fortified your voice.

“My marks,” you repeated, clearer now.

Soap looked at you as if you were speaking another language, and you mistook his silence for perhaps the oncomings of a laugh. Or worse yet, agreement.

Soap scoffed alright, but he didn’t laugh. Instead he rearranged so he sat further down your body. He lifted your shirt, which you tried to pull down. He growled and practically tore it off you. And you let him. He stared down at your abdomen, your thighs, and sighed deeply.

“Why on earth are you worried about your stretch marks?” he said, absolute and firm, as if it were the most obvious question in the world. You almost wanted to shrug and apologise for wasting his time, but you remained quiet.

“These marks,” he began, lowering his face to your stomach, “are part of you. You know what that means?” His gaze flickered from your abdomen to your face. When you shook your head, Soap gave a huff of a laugh, his breath hot and circling against your skin.

“It means that they’re not the burden you think they are; they’re not unsightly, or ugly, or anything else you can think to call them. They’re beautiful because they are you.”

Your tears were still welling, and Soap pressed a soft kiss to your stomach. Then another. Then another. He linked a chain of kisses, inching further down your body, reaching the band of your underwear. He looked up at you beneath heavy lids. He dipped his tongue beneath the band, making you jolt. He laughed.

“I mustn’t have been doing a good job of showing you how beautiful you are,” he said, lowly. His hands slid to your hips, hooking his fingers over the edge of your underwear and tugging them down.

“It’s time I changed that.”

Price:

He’d picked up on your off mood every day this week, but he’d wanted you to come to him when you were ready, rather than him chase you up about something you didn’t necessarily want to talk about.

You never cracked, though. Not even once.

You’d kept your thoughts to yourself, yet your body betrayed you.

Whenever Price had initiated something in the bedroom, you’d shied away, putting your hands against his chest and giving a weak, watery smile.

“Maybe another night?” you’d say, and Price respected your wishes.

But, he was growing agitated.

It wasn’t his sexual frustration which urged him to act, but his frustration at himself for not being able to tell what was troubling you.

He was your protector; it was his duty, his pleasure to look out for you in any way you needed him.

And he felt like he was failing.

Eventually, he asked you outright what had gotten you so upset, and when you reluctantly told him it was your stretch marks, Price sat there. Flabbergasted.

“That’s it?” He couldn’t help himself saying. But when he saw how much the topic meant to you after you gave him a stormy look, he changed his tune.

Consoled you well into the night, holding you, burying kisses into your skin, drawing lines against your marks, saying how he found them beautiful because they were “Part of you.”

Never lets you go a day without feeling appreciated - more so than he did prior to this discovery.

“You know, Darling,” Price began, laying in bed with you in his arms, “I can’t remember what my life was like before you came.”

You looked up at him. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against your hair.

“And I can’t imagine what it would be like without you in it.” The smile in his voice was more than a mere tone, but a feeling, deep and sincere, the epitome of love itself.

Your face broke out into a grin, beams shining through the clouded sky. “Oh?” you said, bringing your thigh over his middle. You slid on top of him, knees either side of his waist. You planted your hands on his chest, rubbing slowly. His chest rumbled, the beginnings of a purr. His eyes gleamed, his lips curled up beneath his moustache, pinched as raised theatre curtains

“How about I show you how much you mean to me?” Your request was more foreshadowing than anything else, but, in a plot twist, John gripped you by your thighs and rolled so that he was now on top of you, your wrists pinned beside your head.

He brought his face down beside your head. “Last I checked, that was my job,” he rasped, his beard scratching the side of your face. He slid a hand down to the hem of your night shirt, raising it over your stomach. “And I don’t plan on retiring.” 

Alejandro:

Is on the offensive immediately.

Thinks somebody’s said something to you that made you upset.

“Who was it, mi amor? Who do I have to kill?”

It would take all your strength to keep him from storming out the house and popping a cap in the first person he suspected as being the perpetrator.

You’d have to explain to him that nobody’s said anything to hurt your feelings, and that your insecurity about your stretch marks has been with you since you were young.

“It’s just the way I am, Love,” you’d say, casting a diluted smile Alejandro’s way. “‘Ts just the way things are.”

This shocks Alejandro; sends him into a catatonic state, even.

Not once had he even considered your stretch marks a point of insecurity: not for you, or him.

In fact, he thought they were cool, and whenever he’d show you his scars, he’d smile. “Now we’re matching!” He’d say.

After you’d expressed your insecurities about your marks, he’d never let you go a day where he’d remind you you’re beautiful (though, that isn’t saying much; there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t make you feel worthy and loved. He just tries even harder).

Man’s a body worshiper if ever I saw one (and I have seen many).

When you’re laying down together and he has his head on your thighs, he’ll randomly turn around and start kissing your marks.

Only does this in private, and with good reason.

Definitely the type to use tongue, even if it’s on the surface of your skin.

Will not let you leave until he’s convinced you’re feeling better about yourself.

Tells you that his mission in life is to “Make you realise how beautiful you are in everyone else’s eyes, even if you don’t see it yourself.”

You can definitely use the insecurity card to request - ahem - ‘snuggle time’ with Alejandro.

If you say to him in your whiny voice: “Baaabe, I’m not feeling too good about myself today,” he’ll be on you like a rash.

You may think you’ve got one over on him, but don’t be fooled.

He knows what you’re doing, but he’s not going to stop you.

After all, why would he ever pass up the opportunity to show the person he loves most in all the world how beautiful they are?

“There will never be a day where I will not worship you, mi corazón,” he panted, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your thighs. “You are my god - my religion.”

His eyes gleamed as he looked up at you from between your legs. “My life.”

You screwed your eyes shut and whined when he licked a stripe against your underwear, catching you where you needed him most.

“Alejandro,” you whispered, his name a prayer on your lips. “Please,”

“Say it.” He slid a hand over your stomach, feeling your skin, your marks, beneath his warmth. “Say what you want me to do and I’ll give it to you.” There was no hint of a lie in his words, only the inescapable truth of his undying love for you and everything your body had to offer.

Between glistening eyes and an open mouth, you let him in. “You.”

Alejandro left many bruises and bites on you that night, all borne out of love. And, afterwards, as he looked upon your sleeping form, all he could think was of how ethereal you looked, and how lucky he was to have managed to find someone like you.

Valeria:

She simply won’t hear of it.

She’s quite an aggressive woman, and she expresses her love and adoration likewise.

Therefore, when you end up confiding in her that there is even a single part of yourself you’re insecure about, she flips her lid.

Not at you, of course. At who or whatever has made you feel this way.

She throws her hands up and curses in Spanish, saying how only she’s “allowed to make you feel that way.”

And she means it.

She won’t let you feel bad unless she wants you to (and even then it’s because you’ve whined and moaned for it).

Trust that she’s watching you like a hawk 24/7 after that.

If she finds you looking at your marks with anything less than adoration, she’ll drag you into the bedroom and force you to say you do, otherwise she’s not relenting with that ten inch strap-on.

She’s sensitive, however.

When she can tell that a quick therapy session isn’t going to change your mind, she’ll just sit with you and listen, make you a drink and hold you when you cry.

She’ll come up with the idea to name them - so they “feel like friends rather than enemies,”

Places warm, soft kisses along your marks, christening them with her love when you’ve decided on a name.

If you name one after her, she’ll be honoured.

“Now I’ll be with you forever,” she’ll say, wrapping her arms around your waist. “On you forever, I should say.”

Valeria dragged you into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. One of her men guarded the other side, frightening off other club-goers.

Valeria’s eyes were heavy, dark and all-consuming with a feral rage that only occurred under rare circumstances, those being her jealousy. She gave you little time to protest as she hiked you up onto the counter, the tap digging into your back.

“I’ll murder him,” she said, voice rasping with drink and the need to mark you - to take you. “I’ll kill them all - all those bastards that looked at you.”

“Valeria, please,” you gasped when she cut the lining of your jeans open, making the button pop and recede into a dark, grimy corner of the tiled room. Valeria brought the knife to your throat, her voice snarling and serious as death.

“I am the only one who can look at you.” The tip of her knife began its slow descent to the collar of your shirt, which she separated from your body with a long, ripping tear. Now, chest exposed, you yelped. Valeria forced your legs apart and crouched between them. Her knife sat at the waistband of your underwear.

“You’re mine,” she promised. “And if I need to mark you myself–” she trailed the tip of her weapon along the marks on your hips, “–then so be it.”

Gaz:

Will look at you like you’ve just asked him to recite Pi.

What???

What do you mean you don’t think your stretch marks look good?

Gaz thinks they look perfect!

He can’t imagine you without them; he’s genuinely emotionally attached to them.

You should’ve guessed as much when you felt him tracing them as you lay in bed.

Fr though, Gaz understands why you feel insecure, but he doesn’t understand why, if that makes sense.

He knows certain things get to you, thus making it plausible that you would become upset with something you found on your person, but he doesn’t understand why you’re insecure.

He can feel himself getting angry whenever he hears you talking - or even thinking - bad about yourself.

He’s not mad at you! Not at all.

He’s simply aggravated by the fact that something or someone has made it so you can’t see yourself the way he sees you.

To cheer you up, he’ll start relaying extremely specific compliments to you.

“I’d love you if you were a two foot tall worm with a receding hairline.”

“Uuuh…thank you?”

Though, if he found those didn’t work or, God forbid, made you feel worse-

“So you’re saying that you only find my personality attractive and not my body.”

– He’ll find another way of lifting your spirits.

“I would commit arson if you ever tried to get rid of your stretch marks.”

“...Why?”

“Because I love them and they’re my friends 🥺.”

Btw he’s fr about that - he sees your stretch marks as individual, sentient beings.

And he begins to tell you the backstories he’s made up for them.

And you can’t help but get attached to them, too.

“Hold on, why does Antonio get to be seen today and not Felicity?” you asked, holding the sleeveless vest to your torso. Gaz returned, throwing a pile of yet more sleeveless shirts, vests and other variants onto the bed.

“Because I haven’t seen Antonio all week and I’m starting to think you’re playing favourites.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Poor guy’s probably suffocating under all those jumpers you wear!”

“Oh?” You raised and eyebrow, looking at Gaz in the mirror. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Gaz threw you a devilish smile, the corners of his lips pointing up like horns, sharp and curled. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding the vest against you.

“Put the vest on and you won’t have to find out.” He pressed a constellation of kisses to your shoulder, up the connecting junction of your neck and shoulder, until he reached your jaw. “Unless you want to.”

Graves:

When you initially told him, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Genuinely thought money would make all your problems go away.

He threw a wad of rolled-up George Washingtons at you and told you to “Buy something nice - do yourself up pretty.”

Obviously, not the best thing to say to somebody who’s insecure.

And when you didn’t talk to him for days afterwards, he realised where he’d gone wrong.

You wanted reassurance, not a solution.

See, he’s so used to using money to make his problems disappear that he thought it’d be a quick fix for you, too.

Pokes his head round the bedroom door like heeeyyy~ before taking a  seat beside you on the bed.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t realise you just wanted to talk rather than have me fix the problem.”

His wording’s still very off, but he’s working on it with gentle guidance from you.

He genuinely never realised your stretch marks were an insecurity for you, though, hencewhy he’s not so good at the whole ‘reassurance’ thing.

He learns quickly, though.

It starts off with small gestures; putting a hand over your marks, looking at them fondly, telling you how gorgeous you were every single day.

And, eventually, when you’re being more…intimate, he’ll refuse to let you cover yourself up (unless you really want to, ofc).

Trying to hide your marks? Not for long - Phillip’s got a PHD in cloth tearing, and you’re his first job.

“I don’t remember telling you you could do that.”

Aggressive love. Full-on laving his tongue over your marks.

“Just markin’ what’s mine, Angel.”

Doesn’t give you even a second to feel insecure anymore.

Encourages you to wear clothing that reveals your marks if he thinks it’ll make you feel better.

Again, won’t force you to; if you don’t like revealing clothing overall, he’ll make sure to find other ways of empowering you.

Gets very territorial whenever he catches someone staring at you because he firmly believes that, 100% of the time, it’s because they’re checking you out.

Will glower at them with his eyes until they look away, cowering.

And all the while he’s looking at you, thinking God damn, I can’t believe I managed to pull you <3

“Love, why did you stare at that man in the bar earlier?” You asked, not looking up from your book. In the dim light of the bedroom, you saw Phillip’s head turn, looking at you. In your periphery, you saw his cheeks lift. He crept closer.

“Ain’t it natural for a man to want to protect what’s his?” His voice carried with it a weight you recognised as rhetorical. You put your book down on the bedside table and resisted a knowing smile.

“I don’t know,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is it?”

A sly smile crossed Graves’ face, and, in an instant, he was on top of you, his weight definite and promising of something. He wrangled your arms, pinning them above your head. And you only smiled up at him as he beamed down at you.

“Oh, I think you know it is.” His eyes gave no way to humour or jest, possessing within their oyster shell colour a pearl of the rarest, most valuable material: love.

Graves leaned down, and, biting the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss beneath it, whispered.

“And you know how much I hate sharin’.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[napofaluna]

𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 yeonbin x reader

↬ pairing: yeonbin x reader

↬ genre: poly au, smut!

↬ summary: you’re invited to hangout in txt’s dorms to game with yeonjun and soobin but things take an unexpected turn.

↬ wc: 3,163

↬ warnings: perverted, french kisses, teasing, handjob, oral sex, t!tjob, unprotected sex, double penetration, overstimulation, edging, facial

↬ a/n: tysm for reading, this is my first time writing anything for tumblr so it might be ass😭

↬ date: december 23rd, 2023

after reading soobin's text, you made your way to the boys' dorm. you decided to wear something comfortable but still cute. sweatpants with a comfortable crop top.

you knocked at the door lightly, after a few moments soobin had opened the door. his sweet smile and dimples greeted you. "hi soobin!" you smiled.

soobin smiled at you, he couldn't help but admire the way you looked for a moment, before replying, "hi y/n, please come in."

soobin had a crush on you since he'd very first met you, and ever since then. he thought you were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, and he'd never be able to see another girl that way ever again.

"y/n!" yeonjun approached the two of you, smiling. his eyes looked you up and down, he licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"you look gorgeous." he said, staring into your eyes. "thank you, junie."

yeonjun was the same as soobin, he'd realized he'd liked you since the moment he had met you. your smile, and the way you carried yourself made him feel things he hadn't felt before.

"what are we gonna play?" you asked as the three of you approached the couch. the dorm was surprisingly clean, but then again they could have spiffed up the place before you'd gotten there.

"i was thinking we could play minecraft." soobin said, "wanna drink?" he asked you.

"sure, i'll just have water." you replied, smiling. "anything for y/n." soobin teased, and went to the kitchen area to get you a glass of water.

"where's kai, taehyun and gyu?" you asked yeonjun as you both got comfortable on the couch.

"they went out tonight, so it's just us." yeonjun smiled, his eyes and his voice always seemed to be flirtatious to you, but maybe it was just you who saw it.

soobin approached the couch, handing me the glass of water i'd asked for. he sat on the other side of me so i was in between both of them. i felt flustered being so close to two guys for a moment, but just took a long sip of my water to relax myself.

i set the water down on the table, soobin handed me a controller. "minecraft time!" i smiled, and we started playing.

throughout the game, you felt yeonjun and soobin's eyes on you every once in a while, it wasn't just little glances, they would full on stare at you. each time you felt their gaze you automatically got flustered.

they couldn't stop looking at you.

it'd been an hour or so, and then all of the sudden, soobin had set his controller down. "i'm gonna use the bathroom, i'll be right back." he said. we both nodded and he walked down the hallway into the bathroom.

we kept playing for a moment, but then yeonjun set his controller down, i looked towards him.

"y/n?" yeonjun whispered, you looked towards him, "um, yeah? why are we whispering?" you giggled, setting down your controller as well.

"there's something i wanna tell you, okay?" he looked into your eyes.

"okay, well, what is it junie?" you smiled at him. "fuck, i just can't take it anymore." yeonjun struggled to keep eye contact with you for the first time ever.

"what do you mean? is there something wrong?" you asked him. "no, nothing's wrong. everything's right." yeonjun replied, smiling at you. "god y/n, i have the biggest crush on you. i just can't hold back anymore."

you felt your face turning red, you were practically melting from his gaze and you couldn't help but look back into his eyes. he stared at you, nervously.

"so..?" he stared at you, anxious for your reaction. you didn't say anything, you just scooted towards him, placing your lips gently onto his, your palm lightly cupping his cheek.

after you both pulled away, he continued to stare at your reddened face. "y/n..." he went back in for another kiss, your lips crashed together, your arms wrapping around his neck as you straddled him.

yeonjun was surprised, but in the happiest way ever. he continued to kiss you until you both heard the bathroom door open. it was too late too move anyway, he had already spotted the two of you kissing.

you looked down the hallway towards him, your face was red.

to your surprise, he didn't seem very surprised at all. he approached the two of you and sat down next to you.

"soobin? are you okay?" you asked him. "he'll be okay, as long as he can get some kisses too." yeonjun said.

"wh-what?" you blushed, glancing towards both of them. "you heard me y/n baby, give soobin a kiss too. he likes you just as much as i do."

you felt your face getting redder and redder as you looked towards soobin. "soobin, i-is this true?"

soobin only nodded nervously, his eyes kept glancing towards your lips though. you'd always wanted to kiss soobin, he had the cutest lips ever.

pulling off of yeonjun's lap, you sat in between the two boys. initiating a kiss with soobin. you saw his cheeks fluster and it made you smile.

you leaned up towards his lips and you both shared a passionate kiss, nice and sweet and wet. you stared into soobin's eyes while he stared into yours.

yeonjun had smirked, noticing soobin’s hard on, he then said, “y/n, you should get on his lap too.”

you nodded and smiled, soobin was nearly panicking at this point. he didn’t want you too know he got turned on by just kissing you.

but it was too late. you were already on soobin’s lap, you felt the bulge underneath you and it made you blush like crazy.

“s-soobin.” you blushed, looking into his eyes. he looked back into yours, also blushing, since he was embarrassed and shy.

you looked over towards yeonjun, seeing the tent forming in his sweatpants. you swallowed and bit down on your bottom lip.

“i-i want you…” you said.

“you want who?” yeonjun asked.

“both of you…” you covered your face, feeling embarrassed.

yeonjun and soobin both were planning this from the moment you’d talked about hanging out at their dorm.

yeonjun had been fantasizing of you on top of him for days, taking his dick while moaning and getting the cute little blush on your face that he loved.

soobin, being more vanilla, had been daydreaming about you being on his lap and the two of you sharing passionate kisses. which the two of you have got to do tonight. it was his dream. no wonder he was so hard.

“w-will you both be gentle with me?” you asked them.

“of course y/n.” yeonjun smiled assuringly. and soobin nodded.

“c’mere cutie.” yeonjun said, pulling you onto his lap. you started to kiss passionately, your tongues fighting for dominance.

you felt his hands squeeze your clothed butt, he’d also gotten hard as well, you could tell.

he pulled his shirt off, revealing his abs and nice skin. you both exchanged kisses while you pulled off your own shirt. it made you even more flustered that soobin was watching the two of you.

yeonjun’s hands cupped your bra, squeezing your breasts gently but enough to make you let out a small moan onto his lips.

"it's funny, but me and bin we're actually planning this." yeonjun said against your lips, you blushed and giggled. "you both are so naughty."

"i know." yeonjun grabbed your neck gently, kissing your lips at a slow pace but then picking it up again as he pulled down your sweatpants.

he revealed the laced red panties underneath and smirked at them a little, "cute. the bra is matching." he said before you helped pull them off completely.

soobin was entirely flustered at this point, and as you turned to look at him he swallowed nervously. you were gorgeous and he wanted so much more of you.

he needed so much more of you.

yeonjun was taking over at this point, and soobin wasn't exactly happy about it. he gently grabbed your palm, and looked up at you while you sat in yeonjun's lap.

"noona, i want more too." soobin said, looking into your eyes.

"ah, i've got an idea." yeonjun said, biting his lip. "you could touch both of us at the same time."

you blushed and then nodded. "soobin, take your shirt off too." yeonjun said.

"i can help you." you blushed, soobin smiled and stared into your eyes as the two of you pulled off his shirt. soobin's skin was nice and soft. it was perfect in every way.

you were somewhat eager but also terrified to see the length soobin was packing in those pants. because you could already tell it was massive.

yeonjun pulled down his sweats, being in only his boxers now. his bulge was huge. you stared for a moment, before helping soobin remove his sweats.

holy fuck.

you were expecting big, but soobin's was massive. and you haven't even seen his actual cock yet.

yeonjun confidently pulled down his boxers by himself, revealing his thick throbbing cock. your face turned red at the sight of it, and you turned to soobin.

soobin pulled down his boxers as well, and you nearly gasped. were they expecting oral too? because goddamn.

you nervously lifted your left hand, wrapping your hand around soobin's dripping cock. he immediately whimpered, and it turned into a sweet moan as you stroked him.

"princess, don't forget me." yeonjun grabbed your right hand gently, guiding you too his cock. you smiled and began to touch yeonjun as well. yeonjun let out a soft moan and tilted his head backwards.

you couldn't believe you were actually stroking soobin and yeonjun's cocks at the same time right now. your best friends. and now something more?

as you stroked them you felt the precum soaking into your palm and getting their cocks wetter.

you sat up a little more, leaning down to place your mouth on the tip of yeonjun's dick. "fuck, baby yes." he placed his palm on the back of your head, guiding you as you started to go down on his tip.

"th-that looks so good y/n." soobin moaned, his cock twitching in your hand.

you took yeonjun's thick length down your throat, practically gagging on it while yeonjun pushed your head down further. he was letting out the sexiest moans ever.

"take my cock y/n.. f-fuck!" yeonjun groaned.

the sight of you taking yeonjun's dick down your throat only had soobin imagining it was his own cock, and that made him feel so good as you stroked his dick.

you pulled off of yeonjun's dick, the sloppiness of your sucking caused a small spit trail from your lips and tongue as you pulled off.

"you've been staring at my tits so much, binnie." you smiled at him, panting softly. his face was super red already, but it seemed as if it'd gotten redder than before.

"would you like to be in between them?" you asked him.

"p-please.. y/n." soobin trembled slightly, his dick wanting more.

you hovered over soobin's cock, licking it from the bottom to the tip. you then took his length in your mouth, your mouth already being sloppy and wet from yeonjun's cock.

soobin moaned and whimpered as you took his length. he couldn't say a word because nothing would come out. he bucked his hips up, burying his cock in your throat.

it was so much too take that there were tears starting to run down your face, but that didn't stop you from taking his length.

you stroked yeonjun with your right hand, rubbing in the spit and precum up and down his dick. he loved the feeling. but he also loved staring at you as you took soobin's dick. and staring at your sexy body in the red bra and panties.

soobin, unlike yeonjun, was too nervous and didn't know where to put his hands. he felt it was too forceful to put his hand on your head like yeonjun had did, so he just kept his hands down as you took him.

you reached behind you, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to the floor.

yeonjun stared and you felt his dick twitch in your hand from the sight of them. "your tits are so nice.." yeonjun bit his lip. seeing your tits were enough to bring yeonjun to his high.

you pulled off soobin's dick, looking towards yeonjun as you noticed him panting and groaning. "goddammit y/n, i don't wanna cum yet. i wan't your pussy."

you climbed onto soobin, removing your panties. getting in doggy position as you took his dick in your mouth again. this was an invitation for yeonjun to position himself against your pussy from behind.

"no condom?" yeonjun asked you, confused.

"n-no, it's fine." you smiled, and bit your lip.

before doing anything, he rubbed your clit. noticing you were already soaking for the both of them, he smirked and aligned himself to your entrance gently.

you whimpered softly, but focused on soobin. you spit on his cock and lifted it towards your breasts, placing his dick in between your breasts as you moved up and down gently.

"a-ah.." soobin moaned, tilting his head back onto the couch.

"f-fuck.. y/n i'm gonna go inside you." yeonjun said, you felt the tip of his dick burying inside the entrance of your pussy. this made you moan on soobin's dick, and the vibrations made soobin feel good as well.

as you moved your breasts around soobin's dick, you felt yeonjun's thick cock pushing deep inside of you. you moaned, taking the tip of soobin's dick in your mouth as you moved your breasts around his dick.

you and yeonjun were both moaning like crazy, and you were already tightening around his cock.

"fuck..." he groaned, and grabbed your ass with both his hands, squeezing it. he started to move in and out of you at a slow pace, sloppy and lewd sounds coming from your pussy as he pounded it slow but rough.

soobin couldn't imagine what it felt like inside of you as he looked down at your head and breasts. he whimpered softly and bucked his hips up into your mouth.

you moved your ass onto yeonjun, feeling needy for his love.

"you and soobin are so needy." yeonjun teased, moving faster inside of you. he continued to squeeze your ass with his left hand, but with his other hand he grabbed your hair to fuck deeper inside of you as he pounded you.

you were a sloppy mess, the sound of yeonjun going in and out of you was loud and it only sent you to your high more and more. yeonjun reached his hand around to your clit with his left hand, rubbing it at such a fast pace you knew you were about to cum.

"y-yeonjun i'm- i'm coming!" you yelled, "m-me too. ah-" he continued to pound into you.

"come with me babygirl." he pounded even harder and faster than before. you whimpered and saw stars as you let lose and came on yeonjun's dick. you felt his cum shooting deep inside of you as he gripped your hair harder, moaning loudly.

you panted, unable to do anything with soobin's dick at the moment as it twitched against your face.

yeonjun pulled out after a moment, cum began to leak out of your sloppy pussy as he pulled out, but too your surprise, yeonjun's dick was already rock hard again.

"r-ride me please, baby." soobin asked, it was too cute to deny. you nodded, and bit your lip. aligning his dick to your entrance.

you slowly went down on it, taking it all inside of you. yeonjun's was thicker but soobin's was so much longer.

soobin let out the sweetest moans, his hands on your hips as he was desperate for more.

you went up and down on his dick, moaning and panting softly.

"i'm still here, babygirl." yeonjun aligned himself with your pussy and soobin's cock. could you even fit anymore inside of you?

yeonjun wanted to figure that out. he grabbed your neck and shoved himself into your pussy slowly, trying to fit along with soobin's dick. you were moaning so loudly, feeling so stretched and so full.

"so good~" yeonjun bit down on his lip, pushing in and out of you without remorse.

soobin's dick was twitching like crazy inside of you, you knew he was ready to cum at any moment. yeonjun kissed the back of your neck, leaving hickeys as he pounded into your sore and stretched hole.

the room was filled with all three of your moans, whimpers, and groans.

"baby, i'm close. i wanna cum on your face while soobin cums inside you." yeonjun pulled his cock out, jerking it in front of you. you bit your lip and nodded.

soobin gently moved your body and his into a doggystyle position, he began to thrust in and out of you at a quick pace. "y-y/n! i'm so close!" soobin moaned.

meanwhile you were prepared to take yeonjun's cum all over your face. you stuck your tongue out as yeonjun and soobin reached their highs.

"i-i'm coming!" soobin whimpered. "m-me too!" yeonjun groaned loudly. shooting ropes of cum onto your face and tongue. this made him bite his lip as he did so, loving your pretty face being covered in his cum.

soobin was still coming in you when yeonjun was finished, their was so much. and you were entirely full at this point.

as you slowly pulled off of his dick, all three of you were a mess.

"yeonjun came twice, so we get too as well." you smirked at soobin, and he was eager to see what would happen next.

you took soobin's length in your mouth, meanwhile yeonjun pushed two of his fingers inside of you, using his other hand to rub your clit in circles.

soobin whimpered, and was moving and bucking his hips upwards into your throat again. "i-i'm already close noona..." soobin moaned. "m-me too!" you gasped.

"come for me princess~" yeonjun bit down on his lip, rubbing faster than before while pounding your pussy with his fingers.

you both reached your high, soobin coming inside your mouth and on your face while yeonjun let you squirt on his fingers.

as you pulled off, you and soobin were both so worn out that yeonjun offered to clean up. yeonjun came back into the room with towels and wiped the cum from multiple areas that had cum.

"they shouldn't be back for a few more hours, how about we shower to clean up some more?" yeonjun said, you and soobin both nodded and giggled.

the three of you had a nice steamy shower together, staying close to each other and kissing each other at some points. whenever yeonjun couldn't have your lips, he just kissed your back.

[piglet26]

Top Five Reylo Scenes

Before I start I do want to add why Reylo means so much to me. Recently I went through a really deep depression and part of what pulled me out of it was Reylo. I was able to write essays and do analysis about this OTP. Rewatching the films and focusing on theirs scenes helped get my mind off of some pretty deep stuff. I was also able to receive love and connection through the Reylo community. It's meant a lot to me! Also, I know that Tumblr is very supportive to anyone going through a tough time and directing people to self help lines. If you are going through a time that is really dark or challenging I Love You in Reylo.

Now my top three scenes is tough cause I love them all, but if I had to focus on an order to the game I'd say........

5 " You Need a Teacher"

“There’s a history in Star Wars of the attraction between the light and dark…”

Truth be told I'm surprised this scenes ranked as high as it did with me because I do not like that she beat him. The more I thought about it I realized why I did want to rank it. There is something raw and dirty about them here. The look of sheer amazement he gives her after that lightsaber flew to her was everything. The force theme beginning to play. Then when she lit the lightsaber and he was like "oh, you wanna duel? ok, let's duel then." The moment they found the force together with their faces beautifully lit up. It really is great.

There is nothing violent really about their fight, like I don't fear for their lives. Resembling the scene where Kylo Ren said could “take whatever he wants” and “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too” while looking at her lips. The chemistry took me by complete surprise and I shifted in my seat uncertainly watching this the first time. Surely I shouldn’t like a murderer and a villain with Rey, but I couldn’t help it. This very chemistry, though probably amounting to less than ten minutes of actual interaction between each other, leaves the audience with a hungry desire for more.

Reylo and Anidala could be mirrors of each other with Anakin falling to the Dark Side because of his selfish love for Padme and Kylo coming back to the Light because of his selfless love for Rey.

When Kylo is with Rey, he is calmer, and calculating. For Kylo, the seduction is to the Light. However, when Rey first searches out the Force with her feelings, she immediately ends up in the Dark Side, and is unafraid to take what she wants from it. In battle, she is furious, screaming and bent on destruction. As I mentioned above, Anidala and Reylo could be the Force’s attempts at balancing itself. Where Anidala was destined to fail, Reylo is destined to prevail and finally balance the Force.

4 "You'll turn........I'll help you"

“The Abduction,” the song in TFA when the “bridal carry” happens, has a very similar ascending line of notes to a recurring theme in Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet overture.

I love everything about this. The infamous elevator scene. Reylo once again dominates the screen in The Last Jedi, easily rendering Finn’s growing romance with Rose bland and tedious in comparison. Rian Johnson is a Reylo stan so I stan him. This is the first time Rey and Kylo are physically side by side since she tried to kill him in the forest on Star killer Base. It's the most sexually charged body language! They spiffed up for one another. She’s changed her clothes, put on makeup and decided to leave her hair down. His hair is freshly washed with a spritz.

“Ben” She’s using his real name now and like in every scene with her now he's calm. He hates his name, but when she says it he hears her. She's appealing to his true nature, or, what she believes it to be. It's possessive as well. He is HER Ben. The way he tried not to have a reaction to her until she said his name. He's trying to stay blank and not give away what he intends to do, but none the less has a reaction to her.

Rian Johnson basically confirmed that Kylo / Ben wanted to kiss Rey in the elevator scene. It’s canon so I am prepared to fight. Not to mention, Johnson tells us that Adam Driver, as Kylo / Ben, seriously considered kissing Rey in this scene. He is, indeed, staring at her lips in the elevator with the most intense eye contact.

Reylo speaks to me, and many others, on a spiritual level. Like many stories of both maiden and monster, Reylo shows us what it means to be a heroine. A heroine reaches her hand out to monsters and says: you deserve love and compassion, no matter the mistakes you’ve made. We're in a movement where women are tired of "fixing" men and I'm here for it. I honestly think that's why so many woman found it difficult that Reylo is not soft and sweet.

3 ........Ben?"

Adam Driver says Kylo Ren can’t help but harbor admiration for Daisy Ridley’s Rey in the Last Jedi. “I think there’s something familiar there, as well as something to be feared, or something… that he (Kylo) can’t quite place.”

Let me go ahead and say that I'm going to cheat.... I'm including the novelization in this because that mixed with novel is what gives me life. TROS brought such mixed Reylo emotions. We got great stuff! In small doses *eye roll* In the novel. She was glad to see him. Glad to be with him in this moment. It was the greatest gift she could have given him. His heart was full as Rey reached for his face, let her fingers linger against his cheek. And then, wonder of wonders, she leaned forward and kissed him.

The way Rey sits in wonder...... never mind she was borderline dead..... Ben is there, really there and she's just staring in wonder. Ben is looking at her in painful awe and relief. They are both almost child-like in their affection. The way Rey hesitates, after years alone, it takes her a moment to work up the courage for her first kiss. Ben just lets her take her time. The way he waits patiently for her to work up the courage and then the moment the kiss, he pulls her to him like she is the air he breathes for his first kiss. Oh! The smiles. Seriously?! Ben and Rey are happy! There was fireworks, champagne and pussy power! Rey’s hand. Ben gave his very life essence to Rey because his love is that absolute.

And let’s not forget the novelization of TLJ had this quote “They will never have to be alone again”.

Now this is where things get messy as hell. Adam was on the set of Tatooine..... but as they cut that ending. Daisy stated regarding the ending “the crew was shaken in a way I had not seen before. and I thought, ‘my god if this is people’s immediate reaction when the scene isn’t even ready, imagine what it will be like to see it in the movies, with the John Williams soundtrack and all that." When Ben faded into the force...... no one felt anything for a moment then there was just confusion and disappointment. You cannot nor will you ever have me believing that this janky ending was the real deal.

2 "Join Me.......... Please"

“He (Kylo) sensed his and Rey’s destinies were intertwined, but how?......"

The Throne Room Proposal! Kylo premeditated in the purest Sith way regarding the murdering of his Master for his bae. Then he gives Rey a furious speech on killing the past in a bid to win her over and fulfill his dark Queen fantasy. “You come from nothing, you’re nothing—but not to me,” Kylo tells Rey, in one of the most beautifully twisted declarations of love ever uttered in a family blockbuster, before quietly pleading with her to join him like he’s the most desperately lonely person in the universe. The duo’s visions of their future together—Rey sees Kylo turning to the Light, and Kylo witnesses Rey joining him in the Dark. However, upon Snoke’s death, the bond still stands. Kylo offers Rey a place at his side and his hand in marriage, but it is the proposal of an awkward boy, grasping desperately at a relationship he has only begun to understand.

And you can see it in her face, that she’s torn, there is a part of her that wants to take his hand, not to rule the galaxy, that’s not her ambition, but to simply stay with someone who truly understands her as well. But it’s the ‘please’ Adam Driver showed that Julliard education with that one word. Both actors just brough it. You can see how far they've come and yet still so far away from each other.

1 "You're Not Alone.......Neither are You"

“When Rey feels rejected by Luke Skywalker, who also sees parallels between the power in her and the abilities of his estranged nephew, the old Jedi master inadvertently pushes the two towards each other.”

You knew it was coming. In TLJ, Kylo is at his most sympathetic and tempting; Rey at her most understanding. Both are outcasts because of their power, they are both lonely, whispering to each other comfortingly “you’re not alone” and “neither are you.” Kylo sees more in Rey than she does within herself. He also challenges her as an equal. Ben ultimately encourages her to not only expand her mind, but in embrace her womanhood. It is no wonder that Rey goes to him. After experiencing Luke and his failings as a master and failing to find the answer's she's been looking for....... Rey ends up relating to Kylo. Kylo, for once, has put the whole of misery and life lessons into something productive.

When we find them alone in a dark hut, slowly lean towards each other, and very hesitantly touch hands in a scene fraught with romantic tension. Notably, the Force music plays during the scene, signaling their relationship’s importance. A tear crawls down Rey’s face as the two connect and understand each other on a level so deep that it is reminiscent of sex, and causes Luke Skywalker to pull the ultimate Dad move and blow up the hut.

As Rey and Kylo develop their bond we see the force attempting to balance itself. Yin and Yang....... the imagery littered throughout the sequel trilogy is drawn heavily from those belief systems. We see continuous parallel shots with Rey and Ben to represent this duality. Both are presented in contrasting surroundings that represent the duality of the masculine and the feminine. In many shots half of their figure is bathed in light and the other half is bathed in the darkness.

This connection is as spiritual as it is romantic. As Jason Fry explained, romance is merely the analog we have in the living force for this deep spiritual bond.

[byuljoonie]

Heart 2 Heart // jhs

pairing: Hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, drabble, College!bts AU

word count: 1.3k

summary: Your TA is kinda hot and you have a cold

note: I just wanted to write some fun Hoseok fluff…I miss him :333 Have a great week everyone, ily ! -dubu

You hugged your sweater closer to your shivering body as you made your way into the room. Your music blasting through your headphones distracting you from the pneumatic symptoms you were experiencing.

It’s your last class before you can finally go home for the day. The semester wrapping up in the blink of an eye. You walk to your usual spot in the room. Taking a seat in the chair closest to the door.

You were exhausted, you attended 2 classes prior to this one, and barely had time for a lunch break. You regretted even coming today. Hearing your friends’ mocking voice in your head.

“Y/N? Y/N!” You felt someone tap your shoulder. Removing your headphones in annoyance.

“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asked. You turned and locked eyes with Taehyung, your classmate and long time friend.

“Do I look okay, Tae?” You asked sarcastically, sniffling in response to his question. He lightly shook his head, taking the only seat next to you.

“Well, maybe you should have stayed home like I said last night,” he quipped with a cocked brow. A nagging expression sewn to his face.

“I need to turn in this paper. I worked too hard to wait until next week, Taehyung.” You confessed hesitantly, trying to sound normal.

“Yeah right,” he said pulling out a messy blue binder.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You asked defensively. He shrugged in response, pulling out his essay.

“Oh look there goes your actual reason for showing up,” Taehyung said motioning towards someone walking through the double doors.

You tried to glance discreetly, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you stared at the bubbly man. The cream oversized button down he wore looked spiffing on him.

“Shut up,” you said kicking Taehyung under the table. He stifled a laugh, handing his paper to you so you could look over it.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” Hoseok said cheerfully, walking around the large brown desk to lean on it. He was met with a few unenthusiastic hello’s and a grunt from Taehyung.

“Well, Professor Kim won’t be able to make it today. So I’ll be taking up your essays and checking them.” He announced carefully.

“Thank you for working hard this year.” He said looking around with a smile.

His eyes momentarily pausing on you a few seconds too long. You bit your lip in response, praying you didn’t look like a yearning fool.

“I’ll be around to collect them in 10 minutes. Take your time settling in,” he said sweetly, clasping his hands together punctuating his words.

“Here, read over mine then,” you said passing Taehyung your essay from your Miffy folder. He nodded absentmindedly, placing an earbud into one ear.

You peered over at Hoseok, unknowingly locking eyes with him. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking away in embarrassment. He smiled at your actions, chuckling to himself.

Shortly after your revision, Hoseok began walking around to collect everyone’s assignment. He mingled his way from table to table.

Leaving a trail of warmth and kindness behind, he ended his rounds with you and Taehyung.

“Here, I can’t promise what’s on there.” Taehyung said pertly, giving Hoseok a gummy smile.

“And yours?” Hoseok asked gently, reaching for your paper. He smiled down at you in delight, loving the way your eyes didn’t stray from him. You handed him your work shyly, coughing a little.

Taehyung smirked at the interaction before him. Flipping through his binder as if he weren’t paying attention.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Hoseok said removing the paper from your hand. You nodded, too nervous to speak.

You felt Taehyung lightly kick your foot under the table, urging you to converse. The air seems to hold its breath, mirroring unspoken words between you.

With visible hesitation, Hoseok takes a step back, holding out on his true intentions. His retreating steps carrying him back to his desk.

Taehyung turned and looked at you in amusement. You shook your head at him, daring him to speak. He raised his hands in surrender, letting one last rebuttal slip past his lips.

“You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude, Y/N.”

You woke up the next day with an earthquake of a headache. Your stuffy nose plugging all hopes of comfortability.

You hastily let Taehyung know that leaving bed won’t be possible today. He responds quickly, assuring you that your rest is most important.

“Your boyfriend might miss you,” he texts teasingly, “I’ll be over after class.” You roll your eyes at his first message, trying to push away the thoughts of Hoseok. Rolling over for a well needed nap, you turned off your phone.

Taehyung placed his bag in your seat next to him. Claiming the spot as if you were just arriving late. He scrolled through his phone, not noticing the shadow in front of him.

“Hey, Taehyung?” Hoseok said lowly.

“Hmm?” Taehyung hummed, eyes still glued to his phone screen.

“Will Y/N be here today? I’m just wonderin-“ Hoseok questioned before he was cut off.

“She’s out sick, but she’ll be here Monday. Don’t worry.” Taehyung reassured the concerned man, unmoving eyes glinting with mischief.

The following 3 days go by in whirlwind. Monday afternoon resting in the palm of your waiting hand. You were the first to arrive in class, taking your corner chair unconsciously.

You spent majority of your last class sneakily glancing at Hoseok. Juggling thoughts of courting or cowardice. Professor Kim’s words drowning in a sea of disregard.

Before you know it, he bids everyone a good day and upcoming break. Congratulating you all for completing his class successfully.

Hoseok quips in with an amiable farewell, thanking everyone for welcoming his assistance with open arms.

Students filed out of the room gradually, muttering amongst themselves about arbitrary events. You trailed behind Taehyung, zoning in and out of your discussion about lunch.

He probed you for an answer, stomach growling on cue. You pulled your eyes from the floor, telling him to walk faster.

“Hey! Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Hoseok asked, grabbing your arm before you could cross the threshold.

“Oh, sure.” You said skin warming at his touch. You told Taehyung you’d meet him at his place later and suddenly you were alone in the lecture room.

You both walked over to the professors desk, setting your bag on top. Hoseok took a few deep breaths before pulling a small gift bag from his backpack.

“I got you something, Y/N. You’ve worked really hard this year and I wanted to reward you.” He confessed timidly, handing you the purple gift bag.

Your smile lit up in an instant, feeling mounds of gratitude for the hard work you’ve put in this year.

“I was going to give it to you Friday, but I thought today seemed perfect.” He began bashfully, “Our last class, but hopefully not my last time with you.”

You bit your lip nervously, your heart pounding at his every word. His hair falling perfectly on his forehead, cheeks glimmering in the dim lighting.

“Thank you Hoseok, you really didn’t have to do this.” You said opening the bag politely in front of him. You couldn’t contain the squeal of delight that escaped your pouty lips.

“Oh my gosh! A Miffy plush, I love it.” You said excitedly hugging the slender man. His hands automatically found their way to your lower back, hugging you instantaneously.

You pulled apart in embarrassment, not meaning to be overly affectionate. Hoseok’s expression changing to that of disappointment when you pulled away.

“I noticed how fond of Miffy you are.” He said coyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I might have gotten myself a little keychain too.”

He reached around his bag, showing off the keychain that looked exactly like your gift. Your cheeks grew hot and a small smile graced your lips.

“Are you saying you want to see me again, Hoseok?” You asked playfully, cocking your head to the side at him. He let out a cute laugh, looking around in amusement.

“Yes that’s exactly what I’m saying, beautiful.”

[newx-menfan]

NYX #3 Review!

*Spoilers!*

The issue starts with a phone message to Anole from Kamala, inviting him to the funeral of a recently deceased mutant.

Anole heads to the funeral- which includes Laura, Prodigy, Sophie, and Kamala.

(At the funeral is also Local, which Laura is totally eye-f***ing 😂🤣)

Some “truthseekers” (aka Marvel Universe’s version of “QAnon” 😂🤣🤣) are at the funeral as well; screaming them down Westborough Baptist church style.

Caliban shows up at the funeral with new digs while doing a whole ceremony ( Caliban had a major “glow up” and stopped talking in 3rd person) and Anole decides to follow him into the sewers….where he sees Caliban’s new version of “the Morlocks” and their spiffed up sewer/faux Krakoa. (Everyone is apparently obsessed with remaking Krakoa!)

Meanwhile Kamala’s brother, Aamir shows up at the funeral looking for Kamala with their “Trumper” cousin, who is in town (I guess we all have one lol) and gets a mouthful about the dangers of being around mutants.

Sophie loses her cool and flips out on Kamala’s cousin (#thekrakoanwasright).

(Also- OKAY Sophie….we INTERRUPT David’s carefully planned lecture….but don’t call out Kamala for not standing up for her friends or new identity more?!!) 

(Also- the panel with Sophie looks AMAZING!) 

As Kamala’s cousin and brother leave, Sophie then alerts Kamala that the truthseekers have followed Anole into the sewers and are planning to attack him.

Back in the sewers, we find out that apparently Anole is dating people on apps with “scaly fetishes” while he is asked to take off his shirt to make sure he’s not “wearing a wire” so to speak… 😳😂🤣

Anole verbally debates if he belongs more with the X-Men or the Morlocks and says that he’s done with the “X-Men life” and asks if they asked him to strip to make sure he wasn’t “in costume”… (this is basically a rip-off of Spyke’s arc in “X-Men Evo” btw…)

Anole’s internal debate is interrupted by the Truthseekers (apparently working in tandem with the Purifiers…it’s hard to keep track of all the mutant hate groups honestly), and Anole protects the Morlocks.

The calvary of Ms. Marvel, Sophie, and Wolverine then show up….(Prodigy interestingly nowhere to be seen!) 

(Kamala screaming random political slogans in battle IS admittedly funny!)

When they won, Laura debates about killing the truthseekers (damn Laura! Someone is backsliding with Krakoa gone! 😂🤣), but Sophie talks her out of it.

Anole and Laura chat, as Anole quips about being a former “Hellion” and Laura drags Kamala out to give Anole a minute with the Morlocks….(technically he was in “Alpha Squadron” but whatevs….)

Anole ultimately decides he doesn’t want to hide in a sewer OR be a bartender (tbh I wouldn’t want to bartend in NYC either!) and goes back to the surface with Caliban and co.

We also find out Prodigy is apparently the one tagging Mutant Graffiti, with paint stained hands!

And that Sophie is working for Empath!

Review:

This issue was OKAY….more or less it’s just a “filler issue”.

For being titled “Anole”…we barely got much of him (the one chink in the armor of this book is that I don’t care for how they write Anole- KYOST really wrote the best version of that character!)

I mentioned it’s a poor rip-off of Spyke from Evo in the summary and I would argue that the show at least built up to Spyke’s internal debate about being an X-Men or a Morlocks…this feels a bit left field for Anole…

The things fans WANTED- mentioning of Santo….Anole putting on the X-Dudes costume again…Northstar cameo…DOESN’T happen…and instead we get ANOTHER story about Anole having an existential crisis over having a physical mutation….(sigh…at least it WASN’T about his love life…)

This is definitely the weakest issue so far…and I think the main issue IS that Kamala is definitely overtaking the book a bit…which isn’t great, since this is an X-book, not a Ms. Marvel mini….(I’m saying this as someone who READ G. Willow’s run and likes the character!)

Hopefully the next issue with Prodigy will be stronger; it DEFINITELY seems like David is easier for this team to write than Victor….

The reveal of Sophie being the “traitor” is kind of boring…but it makes sense because it would be weird if she didn’t sense what her sisters were up to…(although I DO wonder now if there’s more than ONE…)

The ART is again SPECTACULAR!! This issue hands down had the strongest art!

Theories/Predictions:

I AM TOTALLY going to laugh if David painted a mural of HELLION! (the colors DO match!) 🤣🤣🤣

I kind of wonder if the Cuckoos are “sharing” powers with Hellion and that’s why they have telekinesis suddenly?

[abysswalkersknight]

Finally finished one of my WIPs! It's been sitting in my drafts for a while so I just spiffed it up a bit.

Basically I starting writing this after seeing a scary mystery movie and a perfectly normal debate with a relative whether it's scarier to be poisoned or unknowingly ingest glass. We're still debating on that, otherwise enjoy!

..............

‘Hmm? Is something amiss Silver?’ inquired Malleus. They were at their usual table in the cafeteria, while he, Lilia and Sebek were already seated with their food, Silver took a bit longer than usual, though glancing at his rumpled hair and drowsier expression seemed to explain his absence well enough. While it was, of course, troubling that Silver had a sleep spell during lunch, Malleus was more concerned about the pitiful amount of food on his charge’s plate ‘are you perhaps feeling ill?’ he says, briefly touching his fingers to the boy’s forehead to check for fever. Silver must’ve still been waking up because all of a sudden he startled violently at the prince’s gentle touch ‘oh, uh, not at all my lord…’ Silver looks down. ‘ah, I don’t remember grabbing this, I must have fallen asleep while standing in line.’

In the background Sebek began to berate Silver for his carelessness though the boy was not at all paying any attention to him while Lilia quietly slid his son a perfectly warm coffee he got earlier. 

‘My, so even in his sleep Silver still drifts towards mushroom risotto.’ marveled the ageing fae, he urges Silver to drink the coffee and smiles as his boy slowly perks up, however Malleus still frowns  ‘are you not going to grab more Silver? You must be famished from all the training you’ve done earlier.’ he says, tapping Silver’s meagre plate for emphasis. His retainer glances back to the endless line and sheepishly averts his gaze ‘it’s alright my lord, I’m not that hungry anyways so I can just eat something after classes’ he quickly murmurs, taking up his fork, but his other guardian was not finished ‘nonsense Silver, one cannot focus on an empty stomach. And from what I recall it will be three hours until both your classes and club activities finish. If you’d like, I'm quite happy to share my food.’ Silver began to fidget slightly at his prince’s persistence ‘no no my lord I couldn’t possibly-’ lifting an eyebrow Malleus could already sense a polite refusal coming so, he politely ignores Silver’s fervent protests and pinches both edges of their plates and quickly switches them, Silver’s plate now had a significantly larger portion of mushroom risotto. Silver sputtered with his hand hovering midair, unsure whether to risk retrieving his original plate or not ‘go on, eat Silver. If you’re unable to eat it all then I’ll simply finish the rest myself.’ Malleus coaxes with a swift bite of risotto. 

Silver sighed fondly, throughout his life the only times his prince paid any attention to the clock were the child’s meal times where the dragon fae would make sure that his charge has had at least three proper meals a day and he’d continuously fuss over Silver like a mother bear if he’d found that the human’s meals were “lacking”. 

‘Oh he was so much worse when you were a wee little babe.’ Lilia would gush whenever Silver mentioned this habit to him ‘back then Malleus would never take his eyes off the clock at home until the time came to feed you, oh he was so worried that he’d forget the time and accidentally let you starve’ then Lilia put a finger to his chin in thought ‘though I suppose his worry may have stirred from that parenting book I lent him that one time. It’s probably become a bit of a habit now but still it warms this old man’s heart to see my boys caring for each other!’ 

While the notion itself was greatly appreciated, there were times where it embarrassed poor Silver when the other students and staff witnesses Lilia’s fatherly doting or whenever Malleus scoops some of his portion onto Silver’s whenever he thought the human wasn’t eating enough, even now the fae flicks a graceful eye to the untouched plate, almost daring the human to go hungry.

Shaking his head, Silver carefully hides his smile and begins to eat.

All was well while they ate, Silver watched contently as his fae guardians conversed with each other and Sebek snapped and tore through his fifth helping of risotto, Silver was worried that he might bite through his fork and wonders if it would help if he caught something for dinner later, Sebek was always mentioning about how hungry he was so perhaps some extra meat would temporarily quell his friend’s voracious appetite.  

Lilia was joyously teasing the prince about his lack of punctuality when Silver felt it, there was something strange about the risotto’s texture. As he chewed slowly Silver found an odd chunk of something hidden within the food, rolling it along his tongue he felt how it crumbled between his teeth though he soon came to believe that it was probably just a particularly large piece of mushroom so he shrugged it off.

Some of these mushrooms are rather big, he thought to himself questioningly as a different mushroom piece suddenly lodges itself somewhere in his throat, Lilia, Malleus and Sebek quickly turn to him as he roughly beats his fist against his chest whilst coughing dryly ‘my, you must have been quite hungry, my dear Silver’ chirped Lilia as he came over and thwacked his son firmly on the back. 

‘No-no…s’not…that’ Silver wheezes, his terror rose as he suddenly bent over and braced one elbow on the table while the other clutched desperately at his neck, everyone else began to panic when Silver’s coughs take on a retching tone, each gasp convulsing his whole body. Immediately Lilia’s hands coiled around the boy’s waist and practically heaved Silver off the floor with every thrust he made, at the third though Lilia had to stop when Silver gave a particularly harsh gag. Everything seemed to pause as a dark scarlet colour splattered all over the pearly white plates and shiny wooden table, gleaming like precious rubies on display.

Everyone broke out of their shocked daze when Silver whined painfully, his ungloved hand reaching into his mouth, trying to grasp at something but his fingers shook terribly and kept slipping. Both Lilia and Malleus cry out, the latter quickly held the boy up gently by the shoulders while the former pries his son’s trembling hand away and replaced it with his own ‘shh, shh, it’s alright Silver, it’s alright, Papa’s here…’ Lilia coos softly, trying to soothe his panicking child while trying to ignore the blood that slicks his nimble fingers, making it difficult to grip anything… Ah ha! There! As light as a feather Lilia took hold of something rock solid and gently, he tugged on it, taking great care to avoid hurting his boy even more. Slowly but surely something was coming out, blood thickly spewed out before revealing a distorted clear piece of glass pinched between Lilia’s fingers, small enough to remain hidden but big enough to potentially tear up a throat’s insides. Malleus stares at the glass with a look of outraged disbelief, who would dare-!

‘My liege!’ Both fae quickly turn at Sebek’s cry. The knight had searched through Silver’s risotto and has dug out three more pieces of glass of similar sizes to the one lilia had just pulled out, Sebek looks at Silver worriedly and promptly rushes to his side when the human whimpers and gasps out more blood ‘quickly! Help me take him to the infirmary!’ lilia barks, hoisting Silver up by one side and Sebek soon taking the other. In the rush Malleus was left behind with the staff on duty to control the excited crowd, he hadn’t wanted to of course, he had to be at Silver’s side, making sure that he was being properly treated, to think that there was someone within the school who had the absolute gall to do something so despicable to someone under his care, to target Silver- wait.

He thought back to the beginning of lunch, to his and Silver’s plates… They weren’t going after his retainer, they were targeting Malleus. His fists clenched, so hard that he felt some seams in his gloves tear. When I get my hands on whoever’s done this-

He had only wanted to make sure that his charge was well fed, but in his folly all he did was unknowingly feed Silver a plate filled with tampered food, and now this has happened. Glass in their food would have only been a minor inconvenience to fae like Lilia and Malleus, as was possibly the perpetrators prior intentions, but clearly the same cannot be said for humans, as was seen with Silver. For that alone I will slowly tear them apart, he thought dangerously, tis only right, they have hurt what is mine and as crown prince of Briar Valley it is my duty to put them in their place. But first, he must attend to Silver who should be in the infirmary by now… Malleus can only hope that his charge won’t suffer any long lasting ailments due to this. With that thought in mind, the dragon prince disappears in a flurry of green lights.

By the time he arrived Silver was fast asleep in one of the few infirmary cots, his parted mouth emitting weak wheezy breaths. Lilia sat at the head, tenderly stroking his boy’s soft locks ‘the nurse said he should be fine’ the old fae says without glancing up, moving closer something in Malleus’s chest tightens when he finds little splotches of dried red in the corner of Silver’s pale mouth ‘how bad was it?’ he murmurs, bending down to caress Silver’s cheek, the boy showed no signs of stirring. Lilia hummed and gestured to a tray on the other side of the cot, on top was a smaller, cruel looking piece of glass ‘apparently that bit must have broken off the one I pulled out’ he mumbled looking at his now gloveless hand, his eyes flick back to Malleus ‘let me guess. You have come to the same conclusion as I?’ it was not a question ‘good, then it is alright to ask that you remain here with Sebek at Silver’s side while I go handle this.’

Malleus blanched, what? No! He won't have Lilia do this alone! It was unbecoming of the prince to back down from such a blatant challenge. But just as he was about to protest, his guardian pinned him down with the general’s sharp gaze ‘no Malleus, while I’m well aware of your power, remember that this was an attack staged against you, little Silver simply had the misfortune to be the recipient of it, and we don’t want any unfortunate incidents happening as well, do we?’ he grins maliciously, it was then Malleus recalled just who he was speaking with, he may have changed immensely over the centuries but this was still Lilia Vanrouge, general of the right and one of the most feared fae out there. And someone had just signed their death sentence the moment that glass was placed, not only had they targeted his first child and prince of Briar Valley, they had even wounded his second child with such a callous method and now here he was resting in an infirmary with a torn up throat, how could Lilia ever let something like this slide without punishment.

Even better they have made an attempt on Malleus’s well being, Lilia thought his talons twitching with unbridled bloodlust, that means I can go all out as his guard.

I hope the staff catch them quickly.

His grin widens.

Otherwise I’m going to have some fun.

[redbreastedbird]

hi! do you have any advice on how to clarify characters' personalities more within dialogue?

thanks!! :)

Such a good question! Honestly this answer could be an entire creative writing session, but I’d say the most important thing to remember is that different people use different speech patterns and vocabulary when they talk, and that reveals their backgrounds and personalities.

You need to be thinking about dialogue at the word choice level (Daisy uses quite proper language but then drops in some outrageous word choices, May exclaims a lot with words like BLAST, Alex will use a mix of English slang like spiffing and American slang like heck, Nuala will drop in Irish words like gansaí and flaithiúlach without always knowing that they are Irish) and also at sentence structure level.

Eric is a character who is very calm and certain of himself, so he almost never pauses during his sentences. There are very few em dashes (—) or words like um and ah in his speeches. Whereas Hazel is quite unsure of herself so she stumbles a lot when she talks. May talks in shorter, more commanding sentences than Hazel does, the Chief Inspector talks in a quite complicated, more passive voice and often makes jokes no one else picks up on, and Uncle Felix is always reaching for the obvious joke in anything he says.

Also think about references - what does each character know? Daisy will always go for a link to a horrible murder she’s heard about, while Nuala makes references to theatrical traditions and plays.

A good writing exercise is to have each of your characters convey the same information (like the fact that there’s been a murder!), and see how differently each of them will do it. Some will try to soften the blow and be gentle to the person they’re talking to, some people will just drop the info, some people will struggle to even say what’s happened, and so on.

Dialogue is where most of your character building happens, and you should think of it as not just informational but fundamentally character-driven.

[saradika]

OH MY GOD YOURE A GODSEND IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR DEVIDERS EVERYWHERE.

ahh thanks so much! so happy they've been useful! 💖

if you are looking for dividers, I absolutely have recs! These creators are all incredible and have some amazing resources for spiffing up your masterlists and fics! Please check them out and send some love their way 💕:

@cafekitsune

@firefly-graphics

@inklore

@samspenandsword

@sweetxmelody

@jaysdividers

@eloquentmoon (star wars)

@freesia-writes (stars wars/tbb)

[goodmode]

i don't know grabbity balls but from what i gather they seem to have finally made that illuminati triangle illuminaughty with that dilf like they were always supposed to. i don't even go here and i saw the writing on the wall on this one. or the thousands of multicoloured sticky hands on the wall. alex hirsch didn't exactly bury the lede on this one but i'm glad it's all out in the slutty open now and i'm pleased the gf fellows are spiffing it. as they say

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 1:

First 832 words out of a total 1773 and counting! I never expected this would turn out so long, but I’m not complaining. Aircraft sizes and possibly physics have been ignored to make this fic possible. Thank you for reading. This is my first time writing Transformers fanfics, so I’m kind of nervous. Laying out my heart to you guys here.

Note: “partner” in this context means they are working together as a pair, not a romantic partnership. I’m writing as if Starscream has entered an uneasy alliance with the Autobots in S2 but refuses to join them officially.

Part 2: here

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“Okay, you can get in the water now.”

It was incredibly early in the morning, and the human had gotten up to drink some water only to see a somewhat dirtied up Starscream looking up at her through the window. The two were technically partners now, but they were still getting to know each other. It was a learning curve with Starscream, but he always seemed to respond well to positive feedback.

“Careful what you wish for, human.” Starscream had a suspiciously devious grin on his faceplate, and it only took a moment for his transformation sequence to finish and then the human was left with a full-size F-16 in her bathtub.

The vehicle mode somehow actually fit, with the landing gear deployed to hold it up just barely above the waterline. This meant she was going to have to do all the work herself, without any help from him.

“Seriously?”

Even without his face visible, she could practically feel that smartass smug look burning into her.

“Something wrong?”

“You know, if you’re gonna behave like a plane, I could always get the pressure washer.” She joked, the words accompanied by a smirk.

The rudder and ailerons moved suddenly in a slight panic, and the human could’ve sworn she even saw his wings themselves twitch, despite being in his altmode.

“THAT infernal device?? Do you take me for some kind of mindless, unfeeling Earth-plane you can just manhandle as you please?!”

His voice was filled with surprise, which over the course of his words gradually grew into offense.

She was trying to take him seriously. Really, she was. But there was an airplane. There was an airplane in the bathtub. And it was yelling at her. With a cracking voice. And it was five in the morning. The quiet must’ve felt uncomfortable to Starscream, because he chuckled nervously and spoke up again, this time sounding more concerned. He was using his kicked puppy voice, which he favored whenever he wanted to get out of something.

“You wouldn’t be so cruel… would you?”

“No…” she sighed. “No, of course not, I was only kidding.” The human smiled and rolled up her pant sleeves before doing anything else. She gave him a slight pat on the undercarriage, which elicited a “Hmph.” from the seeker.

“Alright, now how are we supposed to…” She tried, and failed, to bite back a yawn.

“I guess I could begin with the lower half of the fuselage… gear… engine intake…”

“I don’t care how you begin, just be quick about it! I can’t be sitting around here all day.”

She ignored the somewhat patronizing instruction, putting one leg over the side of the bathtub, and then the other. The human then reached behind him and grabbed a sponge, wetting it in the lukewarm water of the bath before pouring some soap on it. She moved a little closer, placing a hand on his nosewheel.

“Gonna clean the landing gear now. I’ll have to get all up in your wheel well.”

The reply came back uncharacteristically quiet.

“Alright.”

She stood up on the nosewheel, shower head in one hand while the other held onto the gear assembly. The human took her time, pouring warm water over the joints, the shock absorber, the steering system. The wheel wells, an area of the aircraft that were a mix between internal and external, made the differences between Starscream and a regular F-16 easy to spot. He was far more streamlined than his Earth-made counterpart, having little to no exposed cabling and appearing somewhat sleeker overall. He had several joints on the gear to allow better maneuverability on the ground, and it looked like he could even lower his fuselage closer to the ground if he wanted to. She repeated the process with his main wheels. The nosewheel’s well was relatively shallow, whereas she found the main wheels had enough room to almost be considered a crawl space. The human thought about these traits, trailing a hand over a thin line of blue light illuminating the area where the wheels would be stowed.

She didn’t know he had that until now, but it made seeing her way under the fuselage easier. Starscream occasionally shifted above her. He didn’t speak much, only commenting now and then on how long she was lingering, or that she was touching too much. She took notice that his tone of voice was not genuine. It did not convey the irritation Starscream usually made very clear that he was feeling. It was as if he was complaining out of obligation, as if he didn’t know how to feel about what he was experiencing. The feeling of being cleaned like this was…awkward, slightly uncomfortable, but not bad. Even after receiving a human partner of his own, he had never quite gotten used to something eerily squishy rooting around in his exposed parts.

The struts compressed without much resistance when the human pressed down on them, dipping the jet into the water.

[ebaylee422]

Chapter Two: The Trick of Trade

The Emerald Prince and his Sapphire Princess

Aemond X Targ!Reader

Authors Note: sorry this took forever I'm in school rn for the first time since graduating in 2020 and I needed some time. Also I will be spiffing up my blog a bit in the next couple of days to my liking and for it to be more organized.

Summary: Only so much can prepare Lyssa for the weight of her lineage cascading onto her shoulders. The least she can do is protect her cousins from Aegon's bullying, ingrained by his shrew mother Queen Alicent. Not the woman Lyssa once knew, instead she'll look to Rhaenyra and others for those more human connections.

Word Count: 4.5k

Prologue - 1 - 2 - 3

I woke up to the noise of shifting fabrics beyond the cocoon of blankets I had created after yesterday's excitement. The sun glowing through the open balcony my lady-in-waiting Maygen would always open. waking me for the day. It would allow the air to run through my room slowly coaxing my body out of sleep. 

“Morning, Princess. I have set out your training leathers, Ser Harwin has asked for your lesson to be prompt after breakfast. Since you did not eat supper yesterday I’ve sent for your breakfast to be brought here.” Maygen couldn’t be older than my cousin, she was soft from the thick curls pulled back by strong cloth. To the supple nature of her voice when she spoke from her soft tanned skin and wine color lips. I sometimes envied her escape, as well her duties were simplistic in nature as she was only to keep me company, dressed and fed. Maygen would inform me of the delights of the market beyond the keep, and I would tell her the sights and wonders I experienced on dragonback. She’d become more of a friend and comfort than just a serving girl.

“Thank you, Maygen. I suppose no one else is within the dining hall this morning either?” She stopped in her fussing, folding and organizing the papers I’d left amuck on top of my table. She sighed, giving me enough when her shoulders dropped.

“I do not believe it to be your fault Princess. Family is a sensitive structure, I can’t hardly imagine, having the future of the realm on your shoulders as well.” A knock interrupted her, she moved to the doors of my chambers to answer. Hushed whispers were allotted until the door closed once again, Maygen entering with a tray of food.

“I’m starved.” I said as my gaze fell to a rolled paper sealed in red that peaked out of the side of the plate. “What is that?” I sat up completely taking it off the tray, resting my back against the headboard.

“It is from Pentos, Princess.” I opened the letter to find Laena’s penmanship beyond, she must have sent it days ago. 

Dearest Lyssa,

I write to you to ask for your presence in Pentos as we prepare for the birth of my child. If the Kings allow, since Rhaenyra cannot travel for her soon birth as well. I wish to have family by my side, as Baela and Rhaena were so sickly after their birth. We miss you greatly, Baela and Rhaena learn our ancestral tongue from my mine and your father. They are greatly excelling. I hope your study of Maegor may shape your knowledge of our past, so that we may not repeat our mistakes. Soon you will learn of King Jaeherys and your namesake Queen Alysanne. How your parents were betrothed by her wishes, and my mother was passed by for rule of The Seven Kingdoms. I would love to tell you about our family if you decide to join us in Pentos, I will even take you to the street markets here if you wish. Daemon may not say it out loud but I know he misses you and his brother deeply, it is only stubbornness that keeps us here. That and the endless library hall he spends his days and nights in. We hope to follow your reply soon, my love.

Until we see each other, gratefully yours Laena.

I rolled the paper up again when there was a brash knock at my door. Maygen going to answer this time she bows deeply, moving aside as I see someone enter around the corner. “Prince Aemond, my lady.” she called to warn, as he appeared hastily at the foot of my bed. I pulled on my sheets to cover my modesty at his brazen entrance. He held a parcel in his hand, my notebook piled underneath. It must have fallen out of my dress pocket when in the Dragon Pit yesterday.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Aemond says averting his gaze from mine to look out of my balcony open wide. “Are you not cold?”

“No, my Prince.” We did not say a word as he looked about my chamber's. It was uncomfortably silent, he brushed his hair out of his eyes when his mouth opened and closed. Like a fish gasping for breath, now resting to stare at the lumps of my feet underneath the blankets.

“My mother wished me to bring you a salve for your wrists. You also dropped your book in the caves yesterday, I wanted to return it.” He turned, setting both on my vanity, Maygen had set my robe on the edge of the bed, I climbed out of my plush covers to wrap it around myself. Unbenounced to me Aemond watched my movements within the mirror,

“Did you read it?”

“No, I did not have the time with my father berating me for my foolish nativity.” He chuckled without humor, examining the various pins, jewelry and perfumes cluttered on the surface.

“You are foolish,” I tell him with little sympathy titling my head in concern, the fear still bubbled within my nerves. “but the others are cruel. Will you be in yards today?” I ask taking a brush off my vanity, holding my hand out for him to sit. In front of me on the stool, we typically do this after breakfast in the hall. Aemond hated the unruly nature of his hair, white like his Targaryen father but as thick as Alicents auburn ringlets. He preferred to keep it out of his eyes, rolling them with a sigh, he slumped in front of me, hands upon his knees.

“My father wished me to put the whole ordeal behind us,” As he spoke I brushed his hair back, untangling knots he’d not taken care of when washing. 

“You are their senior, your nephews. And Aegon is your brother.”

“Don’t remind me, if it weren’t for our Targaryen features he may only be a street rat.”

“ ‘Mon.” I scold softly, looking for a leather tie behind his head. “Why did you go into the caves?”

“You know why.” He stated deadpan, his eyes looking at the intricate beading along my robe. “You have two dragon’s Lyssa. As my egg lays dormant. It’s not fair-”

“You are a boy. As I was born the first daughter of a man who does not want me. Many things aren’t.” Aemond holds my wrist, stopping the brush within his locks.

“I am a second son, the second son out of four children. Even my little brother was sent to Old Town as a cupbearer. My purpose isn’t known.”

“Then find it yourself.” I say, tying the top half of his hair back out of his violet eyea, walking around him to lay the brush on top of the vanity.

“When you laid claim to Silverwing, what did you do?”

“I saw her on a hill above the caverns of the Dragonmount, her and Vermithor. He took off, she stayed. Unfurling her wings in protest of me standing next to her, yet as soon as my hand touched her scales she yielded and yearned for my touch. Leaving her mate Vermithor to grant me a taste of the skies.”

“While the egg your father picked hatched in the Dragon Pit.” Aemond's voice was chilling as he spoke.

“Yes. I wish everyday that Bronze Tail would have rejected me so you may have a claim of a young dragon Aemond. It is not what the Gods wished-”

“The Gods?” Aemond stands from his seat, pinning me between him and the vanity. Despite being a few inches shorter his demeanor radiates power enough to topple empires. “They continue to test my patience, just as the rest of you do. Wishes and Fantasy will not make me a man.”

“No. It won’t.” I halt his thoughts, puffing my chest to his challenge “You do not scare me Aemond, just like the rest of them you are a mere boy. Yet if you let this anger fester any longer it will consume your heart and mind. Even without a Dragon you might become a man but you will never be one. Good or Bad.” Aemond’s brow creases in doubt, his anger exiting his shaking form like a snuffed out candle. 

“Ñuha mind jorrāelagon naejot sagon kostōba than ñuha prūmia.”

My mind needs to be stronger than my heart.

He whispers.

“Iā kostōba mind emā, kostā borrow ñuha prūmia.  Syt sir”

A strong mind you have, you may borrow my heart. For now.

I run my hand along his arm, the contact sending a shiver through my spine. His eyes finally meeting mine again are filled with the untapped kindness he keeps buried away for Helaena, Alicent, and I. 

“I will meet you in the training yards, ñuha prūmia.”

My heart.

Taking my hand in his, pressing his chapped lips to the first knuckles without breaking his eyes from mine. My head spins, floating in the space like the foam a top a freshly poured cup of mead. Turning on his heel, Aemond leaves out the door he came in, hair tucked back so he may wear his Gambeson comfortability. Aemond wears the opposite color to me, Hightower Green with a three-headed dragon as our shared crest. While his mind is clouded with similar envy, I bleed red for the hope of our shared devotion. Today, however, I will wear the bronze leather of my mother. Aemond's words ring like a melody through my head until I reach the yards. Forgoing everything left in my room but some roasted pheasant with a jug of water for my breakfast. 

My heart

My heart

My heart

ñuha prūmia

My shoulders ache as I push Ser Harwin away perring his blow to my left side, “You’re holding back, this is a dance. Even as a girl you need not be timid with me-” 

“I’m trying!” I huff, disengaging from the open area as he shuffles towards me.

“I am five times your size and even more in strength than all the other men in King's Landing. Be angry if you must Princess, but it is true. Give me a reasonable fight.” Harwin takes my wooden sword and unsheathes his broadsword along his hip, with open palms he hands it to me. I grip the handle with one hand, and the blade sinks to the ground immediately.

“How am I to beat you if I am at every disadvantage?” I heave the sword to waist height, rocking low in my hips staying at the ready. 

“Do not let your enemy see your fears, deceive me. You are smaller and faster, I am heavier on top than bottom watch for my legs. Then make your move, fast with full force.”

“You’re telling me how to defeat you, that’s cheating.” Wiping the sweat off my forehead with the crook on my elbow raised at the ready.

“Do you know why I’m called ‘Breakbones?’, Princess.” I shake my head still keeping distance as we circle each other. “Criston Cole broke my collar within his first tourney as the Queen’s Guard. I fought the rest of the day with my shoulder wrapped tight. You can do much more damage than him.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” With that, he charged to my left side again, I perried the blow, crossing our swords his strength made me bend back at the waist. I twisted the swords, ducking under him, gaining distance.

“You will never be ready, Lyssa. The world will swallow you whole-” He left his legs carelessly separated, pushing with my shoulder. I curved my body from where our blades met side stepping behind him.

"I will take it by Fire and Blood!" I yell, charging him

"You are a girl from a renowned family only." Harwin sees my open shoulder, slicing down on my sword to knock his elbow into my shoulder. I wail in pain, raising the sword again to a generous combo against my mentor. Only there isn't fear. He is laughing. Laughing at my attempts, this spurs on my rage and exhaustion.

“I am a Targaryen! The Seven Kingdoms need us, I am one of the most educated women within them.” Out of the way of his counterattack, I slice at the chains of his knees. He winces and shuffles orward. 

“Is that why Prince Daemon is out adventuring Pentos?” Turning he swings the wooden sword with full force, I wait for his shoulders to drop dodging the blow as dirt flies within the air. 

“My father doesn’t matter!” I scream, “I will triumph without him!” I use the weight of the sword hilt into his shoulder. 

“Get angry! Look at me, and see him!” Then stepping back, dodging the swipe to my waist I bring the sword to shoulder height holding and pressing to Harwin’s uncovered side between his ribs. Out of breath he drops his weapon, pushing mine away from his side it clatters to the ground. My knees droop as Harwin stands, he holds my head against his black leathers, my shoulders cradled by his other arm in an embrace. I breathe heavily and clutch at his sides as hot tears stream down my face.

“I’m sorry-” I hiccup,

“No, I am sorry. I needed you to feel, to fight for what is yours. You won Lyssa. Even if he is not here to see it, know that I am proud of you.” Harwin holds my face in his hands, wiping the tears from my face. “No man is worth this pain, Lyssa."

"Then why does it happen?"

"I wish I knew. Believe me when i say the gods have no control of mans' cruelty. Only the punishment within the next life. I heard what happened in my absence yesterday.”

“It was nothing-”

“You saved the Prince's life, a debt he will pay you for one day.”

“It was all Aegon’s plot, he tricked his own brother. Aegon is a vile-”

“Careful Lyssa. He is also a Prince-”

“The ladies of court say that Viserys and Alicent will wed me to him after I bleed. So I may bear him pure-blood children, in line with our Targaryen traditions.” Harwin bellows so loud it echoes through the walls, “Why are you laughing? Stop laughing at me.” I spit at him, smacking him along his bicep.

“My-my that is gossip if I ever heard any, despite you’re fathers faults and your lack of a mother like myself, he would never allow such a union.” He holds his sword and collects the other practice ones scattered around us, “You have a unique place here. They wouldn’t squander your hand on the likes of the Princes. You, Lyssa, have a great opportunity here, I see a treaty being made over your hand. While other ladies sew and play instruments while you do those amicably. As well you fight, speak High Valyrian, are a Targaryen King's ward and cupbearer. This means you have heard many royal decries and are strategic. Smarter than any other young girl I’ve met.”

“Even Princess Rhaenyra?” I snicker, 

“She learned from her misfortunes in all good time, as one of her confidantes. You've seen what to avoid. Rhaenyra has taught you the likes of being a mother as well.”

“I’ve never thought of it as that.”

“What I’m getting at is you are well spoken for Princess. Do not fear the future. You are beloved, and all will ensure you are well prepared for your role. Come now, we may catch the last of the Princes training. As I need my sword polished because of your heavy hands.” Walking into the true training yard of the Keep, Aegon and Aemond stand in Hightower green their wooden swords raised slicing at straw dummies behind Jace and Lucerys. Rhaenyra’s children wear Targaryen red and black.

“Aegon,” Cole speaks from across the yard, approaching the distracted Prince.

“I’ve won my first bout, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy.”

“Well, you’ll have a new opponent then My Lord of the Straw. Let’s see if you can touch me. You and your brother.” He tells Aegon, who is laughing smugly at the idea. Not before spotting Ser Harwin and I beyond, he blows a kiss in my direction. I grimace as the Velyron sons walk towards us to watch. Viserys and Lyonel Strong on the balcony watch the training yard from above. He waves after a heap slug of whatever the Maesters put in his flask. At attention, the three fights, Jace and Luke , are pushed to the sidelines, forced to observe only and learn something from it. 

“Ah. Weapons up, boys. Give your enemies no quarter.” Harwin breaks our silence as Criston eyes closer, Harwin puffs his shoulders maintaining eye contact. “It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention… Ser Criston.”

“You question my method of instruction as you teach girls, ser?” Criston yells a good distance across the yard.

“Oh, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupil, before long the Princess shall overcome all the men in her family. Your best and brightest shall crumble beneath her steel.”

“Ser Harwin…” I warn, pink of face at the praise. 

“Pfft. Very well. Jacerys come here.” Criston grabs Jace at his collar pulling him into the center, “You spar with Aegon. Eldest son against eldest son.”

“It’s hardly a fair match.”

“I know you’ve never seen true battle, Ser but when steel is drawn, a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect. Blades up. Engage.” Aegon charges Jace, pushing him to the ground, turning to laugh at his embarrassment. Jace follows Aegon angry, shoving him backwards enough that Aegon cowares behind a straw dummy pushing it into Jace. 

“Foul play-” Harwin says grabbing Jace away from a impending strike,

“I’ll deal with him.” Criston whispers to Aegon. Each mentor speaking to their match while I stay at the side holding Harwins sword.

“You!” Aegon yells charging for Jace

“Close with him.” Criston hollers at Aegon as the young Prince pushes Jace backwards. “Press him backward!”

“Close with him.”

“Stay on the attack,”

“Use your feet.”

“Don’t let him get up.” Harwin watches silently as Aegon continues to hit Jace with full force, I drop the sword in favor of taking Lukes. Running to Jace, blocking the blow to his head with my sword and pushing Aegon back. 

“Foul play!” I grit through me teeth standing at attention,

“Stay on the attack!” Criston yells from behind Aegon, Aegon raises his sword up to swing at mine.

“Enough!” Harwin grabs Aegon before he can land a blow on my sword.

“You dare put hands on me?” Aegon screams, thrashing against Ser harwins strong grip.

“Aegon!” Viserys speaks from the balcony

“You forget yourself, Strong. That is the Prince.”

“Jacaerys is the future King by birthright!” I yell at Criston, sword still charged within my grasp.

“The battlefield is no place for a woman-” Criston charges to where I stand, taking my sword brashly, gripping my arm in protest, trying to control my movements. His touch feels hollow, hands clammy to the bare son of my hurt wrist. I grind my teeth in order to not show the effect he is having on the tender area.

“Tell that to my ancestors, my mother-” I hissed through a dragon’s tongue, stepping forward to meet his eye. His eyes widen as they gaze into mine. True fear fogs them until Harwin interrupts. He is walking the grounds, picking up the toy swords.

“This is what you teach Cole? Cruelty… to the weaker opponent?” Criston drops my toy sword on the ground Harwin kicks it away. Turning to sneer at the Commanders back, plotting and following. I dust Jacaerys off checking the blisters of his hands while the two men continue their battle of wits, for the King's audience. 

“Your interest in the Princelings training is quite unusual, Commander. Most men would only have that kind of devotion towards a cousin… or a brother. Or a son.” Harwin moves before any can react to Ser Criston being punched into the ground. It takes four Kingsguard to pull Harwin far enough away to stop any more damage.

“Say it again! Say it again!” Harwin screams as the King's Guard pulls him farther away, Criston spits a tooth with a mouthful of blood onto the dirt ground beside his head. While others gather around us in the courtyard, Ser Lyonel Strong has been dismissed for his duties as the newest Kings Guard is escorting his grace back to his chamber. Servants gather the Princes away for their studies, and I slip away to mine.

 -

 “This remains a Tully problem” Alicents tells the small counsel as take my second pass with the wine pitcher.

“I would agree.” Viserys says hand cutting over his goblet before I can fill it further, his head sags in exertion. 

“If we may move on, my lords-” Tyland Lanninster the replacement to my great uncle Corlys Velaryon as Lord of the Tides while he is absent. 

“And yet, the Brackens and the Blackwoods will use any excuse to spill each other’s blood. So… this dispute bears looking into. There will be countryfolk who know where the lines have been drawn for generations.” Rheanyra tells the council playing with the glazed stone in front of her. 

“That is easy enough.” Lyonel Strong agrees, with the ease of resources it would take from the capital. 

“Of course.” Alicent scoffs, draining her cup. I fill her cup and she rolls her eyes to me as well. I know it is only meant in frustration to fit in her position.

“Ser Tyland.” Lyonel clears his throat, 

“Uh, we should address the latest developments in the Stepstones, my lords.” The lion motions for me to fill his cup.

“Will we ever be shut of that blasted place?” Alicent rings her hands, fiddling with the rings among them. 

“If you ask me, I think the Blackwoods have the upper hand.” Lord Beesbury announced from a dazed position. 

“No.”

“We’ve moved on to the Stepstones, Lord Beesbury.” Maester Orwyle patted the old man’s hand, the only one of the counsel who was left from King Jaehaerys reign.

“And the Triarchy’s new alliance with Dorne.” 

“I was hoping our negotiations with Sunspear might persuade them to see reason.  To trust a Martell is to be disappointed.”

“Perhaps your Grace but I wish to bring forward our other option we spoke of previously. The lady herself has been awaiting this moment, this may be our last shot of redemption for the Martells.”

“The Marriage?” Alicent's brows cross,

“Marriage? There’s to be a wedding in Dorne?”

“This was merely an idea spoken over supper Ser Tyland, we have Princess Alysanne’s hand in marriage to discuss.”

“Me?” I gasp, the wine reservoir slips from my grasp, the red liquid splattering like blood on a beach shore. 

“Leave it sweet dove, come here.” Viserys holds out his hand to me, holding my freezing hand to his heated temple.

“She is to be of age soon. Just as her namesake made an alliance with The Vale and Targaryens after Maegor the Cruel. We have the opportunity to have a marriage alliance with The Martells and Targeryens.” Lyonel continues with a wink in my direction.

“We cannot do much without Daemon’s permission. If he knew you were shipping his eldest to Dorne he would burn this council room to the ground. Involvement of them in the trepidatious Stepstones or not.” Rheanyra adds, 

“And where, I wonder, is our Prince Daemon? Or I suppose I should call him King, as he styled himself when he won a battle there, once.” Jasper scoffs, swirling the wine in his cup.

“That was a decade ago and he has since left the region undefended.”

I wonder how Alicent has not found her knack for diplomacy after over a decade as Queen. Within this chamber I have yet to see her place any of her own love and care into the family.

“We have left it undefended. There should’ve been fortifications built, watchtowers, a fleet of ships, a garrison of soldiers sent to hold our ground.” Rheanyra interrupts her as if a Prince is supposed to have rein over unruly islands like the Stepstones. 

“We cannot afford it. Our coffers are great, but not infinite. We must consider the cost to our subjects”

“I must agree.” Beesbury nods his head, 

“The cost of war is greater. But we have been lax and the old monster now lifts its head.” Rhaenyra argues,

“The alliance with Dorne would be one of peace and trade, something the Stepstones cannot offer.” Tyland points his unsightly finger in my direction.

“My lords, if I may?” I asked mostly to Viserys, he nods

“Yes child?”

“I am to visit Pentos to be with Lady Laena in the Princess' stead. She is said to give birth to my fathers first son, will my pursuit to Dorne allow me-”

“Of course not Lyssa, you were sent as my emissary.” Rhaenyra orders the court, her voice and eyes study against mine. Then shift as she scans any man or more liking Alicent's challenge. It does not come.

“Let us be finished.” Alicent interrupts noticing how Viserys can barely hold his head up, using my hand as a anchor.

“Yes.” Viserys sighs standing with his Queen and the rest of the council, I step aside as we wait for Rhaenyra to join us.

“Wait. I wish to speak.”

“Be seated.” Viserys commands, every man in the rooms sits so that only myself, the Princess and Queen stand firmly among men. The makers of this family standing on opposing sides, while I am met with a choice to follow only one. Only time can spare me in such a choice.

“I have felt the… strife… in our families as of late, my queen. And for any offense given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house. And long before that we were friends. My son Jacaerys will inherit the Iron Throne after me. If Princess Lyssa is to be sent to Dorne or to wed Aegon as rumored, I propose we betroth him to your daughter, Helaena. Ally ourselves. Once and for all, let them rule together.” Rhaenyra smiles brightly at her stepmother, once her closet friend now an equal. An heiress, a mother and ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

“A most judicious proposition.” Viserys boasts,

“Additionally, if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, your son Aemond will have his choice of them. Uh, a symbol of our goodwill.”

“Rhaenyra.” Alicents stares towards Rhaenyra's chest, to which I immediately take my camisole to put over her shoulders.

“Oh, seven hells… Um.” Rhaenyra slumps not her chair, hands covering her modesty.

“My dear, a Dragon’s Egg is a handsome gift.”

“The King and I thank you for your offer, and we’ll consider it duly. You must rest now, husband.” Alicent helps the King stand, he stops mid walk to address the room for a final time.

“Yes. Pack for Pentos Lyssa, we shall dine as a family before you leave.” I bow to my King and nausea swirls like curled milk in my belly at the impending goodbyes.

Masterlist

Taglist: @stargaryenx , @bellameshipper @supmymainhuman , @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @nitimurinvetitumsposts , @50svibes

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New WIP Tag Game!

thank you @thescholarlystrumpet !

Give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you love [fiction, non-fiction, from different works or the same, from completed stories or poems or WIPs, from yesterday or ten years ago]. If that seems hard, even one will do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be something silly that gives you joy.

And give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you dislike and find shitty. Anything at all as long as you wrote it. If you think it's ridiculous or absolute fucking garbage, even better! That's the point of this game. To see that we all write good things and bad things. Yeah? You can do this. And remember that both these categories are subjective.

okay these are all from wips (all different ones, because i have gone insane). bad lines first, but this is more like just...not RIGHT yet.

“Well, yeah, that’s the whole point!” the angel sputters. “I dunno why they want to do this nonsense with Earth, but if they want these ‘people’ to be able to see something marvelous, they’ve gotta be able to—to see it, right? Nevermind that it’s not even the point of the nebula, forget it, I’ll survive, but spending all these resources on making it and then sticking it in some corner somewhere? It’s madness!”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been far too busy to go—fishing!” Aziraphale sputters indignantly.

The flames are reflected in the demon’s eyes. He’s entranced. Aziraphale can’t help watching him.

good lines!

The City of Elua—that rancid cesspit filigreed in gold and pearls—was never more itself than on Longest Night. The nobles wore their most delicately embroidered gowns and doublets to fuck drunkenly in corners, highlighted all their most beautiful features with cosmetics made of bugs and soot, and pranced through intricately planned streets alongside rivers of sewage.

It is so hot that Crowley has worn his squash shorts, and Aziraphale is very much looking forward to accidentally placing his hand on Crowley’s thigh whilst they participate in enthusiasm for sport, but being so close to the hopeful answer to the pollen riddle is overriding even the levels of distraction offered by Crowley’s spiffing pins, and he finds himself giggling in anticipation of whatever is about to occur beyond the gates of this athletic nirvana.

Even more than usual, he looks like he’s barely keeping all his nerve endings contained within his body, like he could start shooting sparks at any moment, start a chain reaction that would set every electric candle and shard of glitter alight like a supernova.

tagging some people who i think have not yet been tagged? @adverbian @crowleyslvt @gaiaseyes451 @ineffable-rohese @andromeda4004 and YOU

[musicsmusics]

Cannot Wait to be Finished with the godforsaken IBDP. It is but the condensation of sorrow. I may have acquired substantial amounts of knowledge and spiffing writing abilities, but my heart is feeble and my brain infirm. The dim light at the end of this academic year is obscured by the menacing phantom of my exams. i am steadily burdened with truncated and abandoned internal assessments. i am uncertain how much longer i can withstand this pestering pressure. at least my extended essay has been completed, an experience from which i am uncertain i will recover. i was initially told this would be a remarkable opportunity. perhaps had i had the slightest artistry and organisational expertise i would have concluded my work months in advance, allowing myself the time to allocate to my studies. alas, here i am, hampered by the tonnage of the consequences of my actions, powering through the final stages of my hardships only with the energy bequeathed to me by caffeine and the final morsels of optimism i can find within my soul.

[pjunicornart]

Potential Meet the Robinsons Fic...?

Okay, so I have an idea for a Meet the Robinsons fanfiction. I've actually had this idea for a while, but I'm not sure if people would be interested considering the Meet the Robinsons fandom is pretty much classroom sized... However, I figured I'd at least make a post about it with basic ideas and concepts.

Here's the basic premise: The fic will be called "Agoraphobic". Agoraphobia being a type of anxiety disorder characterized by an individual not wanting to leave environments they deem or know are safe.

Lewis is 16. He hasn't gone to school in four years. After what happened while he was at the science fair... he doesn't want to. The offers and scholarships he received that week while he was mourning still sit on his desk, unopened. He life boils down to staying in his room all day, with the shades covering the windows and his computer all spiffed up to play video games. He has a bathroom, a bed, a phone, a computer... he's fine. Except.

Lewis suffers from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder [OCD]. Because Lewis has OCD, his brain is constantly in an anxiety loop. He'll get an intrusive thought he doesn't want, and it persists. He feels the anxiety like he's in danger or that he's a bad person, and his brain will tell him a compulsion to do to be safe or good again. He does that compulsion, and he gets that temporary relief. But then it goes right back to square one, and he's always in a constant, vicious loop. He's not currently being treated for any of this... so you can imagine how exhausted he is each day.

You may be wondering where Lucille and Bud are in all of this. Well, they adopted Lewis pretty soon after the incident - just 9 months later. But they weren't expecting Lewis to be so... difficult. They don't mean to sound - well, mean. But they had this ideal vision of things, and then the reality hit them like a truck (I'm sure we can all relate to that feeling). Every time they've tried to get Lewis out of his room or tried to connect with him, it's met with silence. Bud has pretty much left any thoughts of connecting with Lewis behind. Lucille however still believes there's hope. She just has to give him a chance.

[TL;DR] This Meet the Robinsons fic will focus on a version of Lewis with severe OCD and trauma relating to a pretty heavy "incident", and because of this he stays in his room all day. Lucille still has hope for her adoptive son. Over time, he will heal from these metaphysical wounds.

I'm still on the fence about writing this thing, since it's been a long while since I've tried my hand at writing fanfiction (it's been 5 years, lol). But I can't deny that it's an interesting idea. For me, at least. Maybe you can tell me what you think.