#The call of the battle. The call of your blood. It’s too strong | Music

[novaursa]

The Silent Hall

- Summary: A short story where Robb watches you die during the Red Wedding.

- Pairing: reader/Robb Stark

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (blood, gore, violence and death)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The hall smells of roasted meats, wine, and damp straw. You try to ignore the faint sense of unease gnawing at your stomach as the music shifts, discordant and unfamiliar. Robb sits beside you, his hand resting on yours, strong and reassuring. His blue eyes glance at you briefly, his lips quirking in the faintest of smiles. He always tries to reassure you, even when he is uncertain.

The Freys are celebrating, but their smiles are hollow, their joy rehearsed. You feel it, though you don’t voice it. You tighten your grip on Robb’s hand, and he squeezes back.

Then, it happens.

The music turns sharp, cruel notes stabbing through the air. Men rise from their seats, Frey banners falling away to reveal armored guards. You hear the scrape of steel being drawn, and a chill rushes through your veins. Before you can speak, you see the first blade plunge into one of your bannermen.

Chaos erupts.

“Y/N!” Robb roars, his voice shattering through the cacophony. His hand moves to the sword at his side, but it’s too late.

You feel the first arrow before you see it—a hot, searing pain blooming in your side. You stagger, clutching at the shaft now protruding from your body, blood staining your gown. You hear Robb scream your name again, but his voice feels distant, muffled under the roaring in your ears.

“Get behind me!” he shouts, but you can’t move fast enough. Another arrow strikes, this time embedding itself in your thigh. Your knees buckle, and you collapse to the stone floor, the impact jarring through your bones. Blood pools beneath you, warm and sticky, and you feel your strength ebbing away.

Robb is on his feet now, shouting orders, cutting through the attackers with a desperate ferocity. His sword gleams red in the firelight, his movements wild, unrefined. He fights like a man with nothing left to lose. You try to call out to him, but the words won’t come.

The hall is a nightmare of screams, steel, and blood. Bodies litter the floor, faces you recognize twisted in agony or frozen in death. A Frey soldier looms over you, his blade dripping with gore. You see Robb’s eyes widen in horror as the man raises his sword.

“No!” Robb charges forward, but he’s too far away.

The sword plunges into your chest.

You choke, the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth. Your hands grasp weakly at the blade, but your strength is gone. The pain is blinding, consuming, and yet, all you can focus on is Robb. His face is twisted in anguish, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cuts down the man who struck you.

He falls to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they hover over your wounds, useless against the tide of blood. “Y/N, no, please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Stay with me. Just stay with me.”

You try to speak, to comfort him, but all that escapes your lips is a faint, gurgling sound. Your vision blurs, the edges darkening. Robb cradles you in his arms, his forehead pressed to yours. You feel his tears on your skin, hot and desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks, and you know he blames himself. For trusting the Freys. For bringing you here. For not protecting you.

The sounds of the battle fade, replaced by the pounding of your own heartbeat, slower and slower. You reach up, your fingers brushing weakly against his face. His hand covers yours, holding it against his cheek as if he can anchor you to life.

“I love you,” he says, his voice thick with grief.

You try to say it back, but the darkness takes you.

Robb doesn’t move, even as arrows rain down around him. His world has shrunk to the lifeless body in his arms. Your blood soaks his tunic, warm and sticky, the coppery scent filling his nostrils. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, his heart splintering under the weight of your absence.

Catelyn’s screams cut through the haze. He lifts his head to see her, disheveled and wild, her face streaked with tears. She holds Walder Frey’s wife, a blade pressed to the girl’s throat.

“Let my son go!” Catelyn shrieks, her voice raw, desperate. “Let him go, or I’ll slit her throat!”

Walder Frey’s laughter echoes coldly through the hall. “Go on, then. I’ll get another.”

Robb stares at his mother, uncomprehending, as if the words don’t reach him. His hands tighten around your body, unwilling to let go. He can’t leave you. He won’t.

“Robb!” Catelyn’s voice breaks, pleading. “Please, stand! Please!”

But Robb doesn’t move. The fire in his eyes is gone, extinguished the moment yours closed for the last time. The Young Wolf is no more.

Catelyn’s screams fill the hall, her voice ragged and broken. “Robb, please!” she begs, her blade trembling against the young Frey girl’s throat. The girl whimpers, tears streaming down her face, but Walder Frey remains unmoved, his expression cold and calculating.

Robb doesn’t hear his mother. He doesn’t see the blood pooling beneath him or the Frey soldiers advancing with crossbows. His world is confined to you—your lifeless body cradled in his arms, your blood staining his hands, your face pale and still.

He brushes his fingers against your cheek, whispering your name like a prayer. His tears fall freely now, dropping onto your face, as though they could bring you back.

A Frey soldier steps closer, his crossbow aimed at Robb’s back. “Do it!” Walder commands, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.

“No!” Catelyn screams, her voice raw, almost inhuman. She pulls the Frey girl closer, her blade pressing into the girl’s neck. “Let him go! You’ve killed enough! Please, for the love of the gods, let my son go!”

But Walder Frey only smirks. “Your son’s dead already. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

The first bolt strikes Robb in the shoulder. He jerks slightly but doesn’t release you. His lips press against your forehead, his blood mingling with yours. Another bolt slams into his side, and he gasps, his grip faltering for a moment before tightening again.

“Robb!” Catelyn screams, her voice shattering into sobs.

He finally looks up, his eyes meeting his mother’s. There’s no fear in them, no anger. Only grief, deep and all-consuming. “It’s… alright, Mother,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m with her now.”

The final bolt strikes his heart.

Robb collapses over you, his body shielding yours even in death. His blood mingles with yours on the cold stone floor, his hand resting on your lifeless one. His breathing stills, and the hall falls silent save for Catelyn’s anguished wails.

She releases the Frey girl, who scurries away, and collapses to her knees. Her blade clatters to the ground as she stares at her son’s lifeless body draped over yours. Her hands claw at her face, her nails drawing blood, but she doesn’t seem to feel it.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “No, no, no.”

Walder Frey steps forward, his cold gaze fixed on her. “Enough of this,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “End it.”

But Catelyn isn’t done. With a guttural cry, she lunges for the knife on the floor and grabs Walder’s wife again. The blade flashes as she pulls the woman close.

“Let me die, then!” she shrieks, her voice cracking. “Take my life, but leave him. Leave him!”

Walder’s laughter is cruel, echoing through the hall like the tolling of a death knell. “Kill her.”

The last thing Catelyn Stark sees is her son, her firstborn, lying dead over the woman he loved. Then, the knife finds her throat, and everything goes black.

[noraantilles]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader, Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: A secret monster fight club pulls you, Sam, and Dean into the dark underworld of New Orleans. When your name is called to fight, survival means stepping into the ring — but the real battle might be against the ones you trust most.

Warnings: violence (hand-to-hand combat, graphic fight scenes), blood and injury descriptions, emotional manipulation, themes of guilt and self-doubt, harsh language, angst with a touch of hurt/comfort, brief mentions of trauma (implied, not detailed), intense emotional conflict, reader has increased healing

Word count: 4.8k

New Orleans wasn’t the kind of city where you expected peace. It thrived on its chaos— the music, the people, the dark corners that felt like they hadn’t seen daylight in decades. But even in this city of whispers and shadows, what the djinn described felt… wrong.

It started the usual way. A bar on the edge of the French Quarter, where the air smelled like spilled beer and gumbo. The djinn, Kael, found you in the middle of a quiet drink, tumbling through the doorway of the bar. His appearance didn’t scream “monster.” No glowing tattoos or deadly aura. Just a guy in a worn hoodie, his hands tucked in his pockets like he was ready to bolt.

“You’re hunters, right?” he asked, his voice rough, like he hadn’t used it in days. His eyes flicked from Sam to Dean to you, sizing you up. “I need your help.”

Dean didn’t even look up from his whiskey. “Yeah, no. We’re good.”

Kael sighed, stepping closer. “You don’t even know what I’m asking yet.”

“And we don’t care,” Dean shot back, his tone sharp. “Djinn don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to asking for help. Usually, you’re too busy stuffing people into nightmares.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Kael said quickly, holding up his hands. “This isn’t about feeding or whatever you think we do. This is… different.”

“Different how?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Kael hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the door. “There’s a fight club,” he began, his voice dropping. “For monsters. Underground, secret, brutal. They’re not just fighting each other anymore. Humans are starting to show up - hunters. And not willingly.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he finally looked up. “What do you mean, ‘not willingly’?”

“They’re being taken,” Kael said simply. “Dragged into the ring as trophies. They don’t stand a chance.”

“And you care… why?” Sam asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Kael’s shoulders stiffened, and his jaw clenched. “Because they’re taking my kind too. Not all of us want to be killers. Not all of us want… this.” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought you saw something raw in his expression. “I tried to stop it on my own, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

Dean snorted. “And you think we’re just gonna trust you? That you’re some kind of saint? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not about trust,” Kael snapped, his voice rising. “It’s about survival. They’ll come for you too, eventually. Hunters are the biggest prize. You want to wait for that, or do something about it now?”

Your table went quiet. Sam leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, deep in thought. Dean’s eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming against the table.

“This could be a trap,” Dean muttered, his voice low. “For all we know, he’s setting us up to be the next act in this freak show.”

“Maybe,” Sam admitted, his gaze fixed on Kael. “But if he’s telling the truth… we can’t just ignore it.”

Dean scoffed, pushing his glass away. “You realize how insane this sounds, right? An underground fight club for monsters? What’s next, monster karaoke?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, but the tension in the room was palpable. “Dean,” you said, your voice steady, “if there’s even a chance he’s telling the truth, we have to check it out. People’s lives are on the line.”

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at Kael. “But the second you so much as blink wrong, you’re dead. Got it?”

Kael nodded, his expression grim. “Got it.”

Sam stood, grabbing his jacket. “So where do we start?”

Kael gestured toward the door. “I’ll take you there.”

As you followed Kael out into the humid New Orleans night, the tension between the three of you lingered. Sam and Dean exchanged wary glances, their hands hovering near their weapons. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be one of those cases that left scars — physical or otherwise.

The warehouse loomed like a forgotten relic, tucked between crumbling brick walls and the darkened riverbanks of New Orleans. The air smelled of mildew and oil, and faint vibrations of bass-heavy music thudded through the ground. Kael led the way, silent but tense, his shoulders rigid as though bracing for a fight before it had even begun.

The bouncer at the door was a demon, massive and his eyes blackened when the four of you approached. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles bulging beneath his black T-shirt, and he had an expression that said he wasn’t here to negotiate.

Kael approached him with careful confidence, pulling a small coin from his pocket. It glinted faintly in the dim light. “Morrick,” Kael said, his voice steady. “Let us in.”

The demon raised an eyebrow, eyeing Kael like he was a bug he might enjoy squashing. “What’s this?” Morrick rumbled, his voice deep enough to rattle your chest.

“Payment,” Kael said shortly. “And a promise that we’re not here to cause trouble.”

Morrick’s gaze shifted to the three of you, lingering a little too long on Dean, who stared back with that signature Winchester mix of defiance and irritation. “Hunters,” Morrick said, his lip curling into a sneer. “Interesting company you’re keeping these days, Kael.”

“They’re with me,” Kael said quickly. “And if anyone asks, they’re… participants.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, not happening.”

Morrick gave a low chuckle, stepping aside as the door creaked open. “Good luck,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’re going to need it.”

The warehouse opened into a massive, dimly lit chamber. Neon lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the crowd. Monsters of all kinds filled the space—vampires with sharp grins, werewolves with twitching ears, ghouls hunched in shadowed corners. The air was electric, buzzing with adrenaline and bloodlust.

At the center of it all was the cage—a brutal structure of rusted metal and electrified fencing. The pit was stained dark, and the crowd roared as two figures inside clashed violently, their movements a blur of claws and fangs.

“This is it,” Kael muttered, his voice barely audible over the din. “Welcome to the ring.”

Sam’s expression hardened as he scanned the room, his jaw tight. “This is worse than I thought,” he said.

Dean grimaced, his hand resting instinctively on the knife hidden beneath his jacket. “Yeah. Real cozy.”

“What’s the deal here?” you asked Kael, keeping your voice low. “How does this work?”

Kael sighed, motioning for you to follow as he navigated the crowd. “The fights are arranged by tiers. Winners move up; losers… well, let’s just say they’re not walking out of here. Every monster here is either a fighter or a gambler. They come for the blood and the chaos, but mostly for the money.”

“And the humans?” Sam pressed, his voice edged with anger.

“They’re the showstoppers,” Kael admitted, glancing away. “They save them for the big rounds. Hunters are a rare catch. Makes for a good spectacle.”

Dean stopped in his tracks, grabbing Kael by the arm. “You didn’t think to mention this before?”

Kael pulled free, his expression guarded. “Would it have changed anything? You’d still be here.”

Dean looked like he was about to deck him, but the sound of a loud buzzer cut through the noise, followed by the announcer’s booming voice.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer growled, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. “We have a special treat tonight! A fresh contender has entered the ring — an unexpected guest. Give it up for…”

The announcer paused, letting the suspense build.

“[Y/N]!”

Your stomach dropped as the crowd erupted in cheers and jeers, monsters craning their necks to get a look at you. Sam and Dean turned to Kael, their faces a mix of confusion and fury.

“What the hell is this?” Dean hissed, stepping toward Kael.

Kael put his hands up defensively, backing away. “You needed a way in, remember? This is it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam snapped. “You used us?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Kael said quickly, his voice rising. “This is the only way to get close enough to stop it. You wouldn’t have gotten through that door otherwise.”

“You son of a—” Dean lunged, but Kael was faster, slipping back into the crowd before Dean could grab him.

“You’re dead, Kael!” Dean shouted after him, his voice seething with rage.

Sam turned to you, his expression pained. “What do we do?”

You took a deep breath, your hands balling into fists. “We go along with it. For now.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like we have a choice,” you shot back. “They’ve already called my name. If I don’t go in, they’ll kill us all.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. His fists tightened at his sides, the anger radiating off him in waves. “This isn’t over,” he muttered, glaring into the crowd as you stepped toward the ring.

The cage door creaked open, and the crowd’s noise swelled. Your opponent — a hulking werewolf with a cruel grin — waited in the center, claws glinting under the dim lights. The cage door slammed shut behind you with a resounding clang, the sound echoing through the warehouse like a death knell. The crowd surged closer, their roars a frenzied mix of bloodlust and anticipation. The electrified fence hummed faintly, casting a faint blue glow over the ring.

Across from you, your opponent stepped forward. He was easily six and a half feet tall, his muscles straining against the ragged remains of a shirt. His yellow eyes glinted under the dim light, and his grin revealed rows of sharp teeth.

“Well, aren’t you just a snack,” he snarled, his voice low and guttural.

You tightened your fists, planting your feet firmly on the bloodstained ground. “I’m a lot tougher to chew than I look.”

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets! Who will take the first win of the night—our reigning champion, Garrick the Wolf, or our newcomer?”

The crowd erupted, jeering and shouting. Dean’s voice cut through the chaos: “You’ve got this, [Y/N]! Stay sharp!”

Sam was quieter, his gaze locked on you with the intensity of someone already calculating the odds.

The werewolf didn’t wait for the bell. He lunged at you with startling speed, his claws slashing through the air. You barely ducked in time, the tips grazing your shoulder. The crowd roared in approval as you rolled away, springing to your feet.

“Fast,” Garrick sneered, circling you like a predator. “But not fast enough.”

He came at you again, this time aiming low. You sidestepped, landing a sharp kick to his ribs. The impact sent him stumbling back, but it didn’t seem to faze him. Garrick grinned, licking his lips like he was enjoying the challenge.

The next hit came hard and fast—a clawed hand slamming into your side. Pain shot through your ribs, and you staggered, barely managing to stay upright. Dean’s voice rang out from the sidelines, sharp and panicked. “Stay on your feet!”

Sam leaned forward, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the cage. “Come on, [Y/N], you can do this!”

The werewolf pressed his advantage, throwing a flurry of punches and swipes. You blocked most of them, but a few slipped through, leaving your arms bruised and stinging. The crowd roared louder with each hit, the bloodlust palpable.

But you weren’t out yet.

As Garrick reared back for another swing, you saw your opening. You ducked low, dodging his claws, and drove your elbow into his stomach. He doubled over with a grunt, and you followed up with a sharp uppercut to his jaw. The force of the blow sent him staggering, blood dripping from his split lip.

The crowd quieted for a moment, stunned by the sudden shift. Dean let out a low whistle. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Garrick growled, his yellow eyes blazing with fury. He charged again, but this time, you were ready. You sidestepped his attack, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. With a swift kick to the back of his knee, you sent him crashing to the ground.

He tried to get up, but you didn’t give him the chance. You drove your fist into his face, then another, and another, until he slumped unconscious beneath you. The crowd erupted in chaos, half cheering, half booing.

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “Winner: [Y/N]!”

You stood, breathing heavily, your knuckles throbbing. Blood — his and yours — splattered your clothes, but you barely noticed. Your gaze flicked to Sam and Dean, who were both watching with a mix of shock and pride.

“Holy crap,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “Where the hell did she learn to fight like that?”

Sam smiled, his relief evident. “You did good,” he said simply, his voice warm with pride.

You gave them a small nod, your lips curling into a faint smile despite the ache in your ribs. The fight was over, but you knew this was just the beginning.

As the cage door creaked open and the crowd shifted its attention to the next match, you stepped out, already preparing for what came next.

The air in the club grew heavier with each match, the metallic tang of blood mingling with sweat and the faint, acrid smell of fear. After your first win, the announcer wasted no time calling you back into the cage. No rest, no reprieve—this place thrived on brutality, and the crowd was hungry for more.

Your second opponent was a vampire, lean and fast, his fangs glinting under the flickering neon lights. He smirked as he entered the cage, running his tongue along his teeth. “You’re dead meat,” he hissed, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

The fight was harder than the first. He was quick — almost too quick — and his punches came in rapid succession, each one a blur. But you held your ground, focusing on your footwork, waiting for an opening. When it finally came, you struck with precision, driving your knee into his chest and landing a series of blows to his face. By the time he hit the floor, the crowd was roaring your name.

Sam and Dean watched from the sidelines, their expressions a mixture of pride and unease.

“She’s wiping the floor with them,” Sam said, shaking his head. “How is she doing this?”

Dean crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving the cage. “I don’t know, but it’s starting to freak me out.”

The fights kept coming, each opponent more dangerous than the last. A hulking shapeshifter. A snarling hellhound. Even a demon who fought with a kind of reckless fury that left the crowd on edge.

Your movements became sharper, more calculated with each match. You dodged blows that should have flattened you, landing punches and kicks with surgical precision. Blood smeared across your knuckles, your clothes, even your face, but you didn’t stop. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowned out the pain, the exhaustion.

“You see that?” Dean muttered as you took down the demon with a final blow to the head. “That’s not normal.”

Sam nodded, his brow furrowed. “She’s in the zone. But how long can she keep this up?”

Dean didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

They didn’t let you leave the cage after each fight. Instead, a group of medics — ghouls with steady hands and empty eyes—patched you up as best they could before shoving you back into the ring. Dean paced outside the cage, his frustration mounting with every match.

“This isn’t right,” he said, glancing at Sam. “She’s good, but they’re going to wear her down. It’s not a question of if—it’s when.”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, his voice calm but firm. “We’ll figure something out. Just… trust her for now.”

Dean didn’t respond, but his scowl deepened as the announcer’s voice echoed through the club once again.

The fights became a blur, each one blending into the next. Your body moved on autopilot, ducking and striking, blocking and countering. The crowd’s chants grew louder, more frenzied, as you kept winning.

By the time you finished your latest match — a brutish ghoul with fists like sledgehammers — you could feel the wear and tear on your body. Your ribs ached with every breath, and your legs threatened to buckle beneath you. But when the cage door opened, you walked out with your head held high, ignoring the blood dripping from your temple.

Dean met you at the edge of the cage, his eyes scanning your injuries. “You good?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, wiping the blood from your face with the back of your hand. “It‘ll heal, soon.”

Dean didn’t look convinced, but he stepped aside as the medics pulled you away.

“You’re unbelievable,” Sam said, his tone somewhere between awe and concern. “But you need to pace yourself. These things… they’re not human. They don’t tire the way we do.”

You gave him a faint smile, the adrenaline still buzzing under your skin. “Good thing I’m not normal, either.”

As you sat on a splintered bench, waiting for your next match, you noticed Kael watching from the shadows. He gave you a small nod, but there was no satisfaction in his expression—only guilt. You didn’t have the energy to glare at him, but you made a mental note to settle the score once this was over.

The announcer’s voice rang out again, pulling you from your thoughts. “And now, the champion of the evening, the one you’ve all been waiting for… [Y/N]!”

The crowd erupted, their cheers echoing through the warehouse like thunder. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the ache in your muscles. You had a faster healing factor than normal humans but this was a challenge even for you. Sam and Dean watched you closely, their expressions unreadable.

“This is it,” you thought to yourself as you stepped back into the cage. “One more fight.”

The cage was eerily quiet after your last fight. The crowd, normally a cacophony of cheers and jeers, seemed to hold its breath. Even the announcer paused for a moment longer than usual before stepping back to his microphone.

“And now, for the final match of the night…” His voice boomed through the warehouse, and the crowd leaned forward in anticipation. “A battle you won’t forget. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome Y/N’s last competitor,

Dean Winchester!”

The roar that followed was deafening. You froze mid-step, your blood running cold as your name was called alongside Dean’s. Turning toward the sidelines, you saw Dean standing there, equally stunned, his face a mask of disbelief.

“What the hell?” Dean growled, shoving past a group of onlookers to approach the cage. “This has to be a mistake.”

“It’s not,” Kael muttered from the shadows. He avoided eye contact, his posture tense. “They want to see a fight. A real fight.”

Dean’s fists clenched. “You think I’m gonna hit her? You think I’m gonna just—”

“Dean,” you interrupted, your voice calm despite the storm brewing inside you. “We don’t have a choice.”

His green eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the chaos of the room faded. “Like hell we don’t,” he spat. “I’m not fighting you. End of story.”

The announcer’s voice cut in again, dripping with amusement. “Come on now, folks, don’t keep us waiting. Let’s see who’s really the best.”

The crowd grew restless as Dean followed you into the cage. He followed reluctantly, every step heavy with tension. Once the door slammed shut behind you, the jeering started again, chants rising for blood.

Dean turned to you, his jaw set. “I’m not doing this.”

“You have to,” you said firmly. “It’s the only way out.”

“No,” he snapped, his voice louder. “I’m not gonna fight you. End of discussion.”

The crowd booed, some even throwing bottles against the electrified fencing. The announcer’s laughter echoed overhead. “Looks like Dean Winchester’s gone soft!”

Dean’s scowl deepened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides, though they stayed by his hips. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice so only Dean could hear. “Dean, listen to me. They want a show. If we don’t give them one, they’ll kill us. All of us. You, me, Sam—everyone.”

His nostrils flared, and he shook his head, pacing like a caged lion. “There’s gotta be another way.”

“There’s not,” you said, your tone soft but unyielding. “So hit me.”

Dean stopped pacing, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

“Hit me,” you repeated, stepping closer. “Start the fight. Make it look real.”

“I’m not hitting you, for God’s sake!” he shouted, his voice echoing over the noise.

You sighed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Fine. Then I’ll hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he muttered, but there was doubt in his voice.

You raised your fist, but before you could swing, he grabbed your wrist mid-air. “Don’t.”

The crowd roared again, and the announcer taunted over the microphone. “Come on, Winchester! Show us what you’ve got!”

“You’re not leaving me any choice,” you said, pulling your hand free. “If you won’t fight me, I’ll make you.”

And then, you did it. You said the words you knew would hurt. The words that would cut deeper than any punch.

“Look around, Dean.” Your voice was low, sharp, each word slicing through the noise of the crowd. “All this time, you act like you’re the hero. But now, when it matters most? You can’t even throw a punch.”

Dean shook his head, his expression hardening. “Yeah, real classy of you.”

“You’re no hero, Dean Winchester. Everywhere you go, everything you touch falls apart. And you know it.” You paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. “Ever wonder why Sammy’s still with you?”

Dean froze, his shoulders stiffening. “Don’t.”

“It’s because he feels like he has to,” you continued, your tone colder now. “He’s cleaning up after the mess his failure of a brother keeps making.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t move. You stepped closer, driving the knife deeper. “You think you’re better than John, don’t you? But deep down, you’re terrified you’re exactly like him.”

“Stop,” Dean warned, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

“You’re a mess, Dean. And the worst part is, you know it. You think Sam looks up to you?” You leaned in, your voice dropping into something almost mocking. “He pities you.”

That was it. The punch came fast and hard, like a freight train you didn’t see coming. It landed squarely, pain exploding in your nose as the world spun. The crowd erupted, their bloodthirsty cheers ringing in your ears.

You stumbled but didn’t fall, spitting blood onto the ground. A dark, jagged laugh bubbled up, cutting through the chaos. “Finally,” you muttered, just loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean’s face twisted with anger, his eyes blazing. “You want a fight? Fine.”

The punches came hard and fast, each one heavier than the last. You blocked a few, letting him land enough to make it look real. The crowd screamed with excitement, their bloodlust fueling Dean’s rage.

Your ribs ached, your vision blurred, but you didn’t stop. You threw a few half-hearted punches, enough to sell the fight, but not enough to hurt him. You could see it in his eyes — he didn’t want to do this, but the anger you’d provoked in him gave him no choice.

Finally, with one last punch to the side of your jaw, you went down. The world tilted as you hit the floor, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The announcer declared Dean the winner, but you barely heard it over the ringing in your ears.

Dean stormed out of the cage without looking back, his fists still clenched, his shoulders heaving. The medics swarmed you, their cold hands dragging you to your feet. You waved them off, stumbling toward the edge of the cage where Sam was waiting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice thick with worry.

“It‘ll heal,” you muttered, wincing as you reset your broken nose with a sharp crack. The pain was fleeting, already fading as your body began to heal.

Sam’s eyes followed Dean as he disappeared into the crowd. “He’s not okay.”

You nodded, wiping the blood from your face. “I’ll talk to him.”

And with that, you pushed past the medics and toward Dean’s cabin.

You found Dean in the corner of the dimly lit cabin, sitting on a rickety chair with his head down. His hands were wrapped in bloodstained bandages, fingers twitching slightly, and his right leg bounced up and down in restless rhythm. He didn’t look up as you entered, the tension in the room almost suffocating.

“Dean?” you said softly, taking a tentative step closer.

“Get out,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and low.

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of his words hitting you harder than the punch he’d landed earlier. For the first time, it occurred to you that maybe you’d hurt him more than you intended — not physically, but in ways far harder to heal.

“Please, let me explain,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

“No.” He finally looked up, his eyes tired and red-rimmed. “You said enough.”

“Whatever I said out there, it’s not what I think about you,” you began, your words rushing to fill the silence.

“Oh yeah?” His voice was louder now, sharp with frustration, his gaze locking onto yours. “Then why the hell did you say it?”

“Because I knew you think those things about yourself,” you replied, stepping closer. He stiffened but didn’t stop you. “I had to find a way to push you, Dean. You’re stubborn as hell, and I knew you wouldn’t fight me unless I made you angry enough.”

You dropped to your knees in front of him, your eyes level with his. His leg stilled, but his fists remained tightly clenched.

“And it was a mean move. I know that. But the person you fought out there wasn’t me,” you said, your voice softening.

Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion breaking through the storm of emotions on his face.

“You fought yourself, Dean,” you continued. “Every punch, every ounce of rage — it wasn’t about me. It was about the things you believe about yourself. And you fought like a damn king because deep down, you don’t want those things to be true.”

His breathing hitched, but he didn’t look away.

“And you’re absolutely right for it,” you said, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Because none of it is true. Not one damn word.”

Dean’s eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to keep it together.

“I could give you a million reasons why everything I said is false. You’re not John. You never were. You’re Dean Winchester. The man who always puts others first, even when it tears him apart. The most skilled, pie-obsessed, Led Zeppelin-loving hunter I know.” A faint smile touched your lips. “And the best older brother anyone could ever ask for.”

A single tear escaped down his cheek, and he looked away, his jaw trembling. But you didn’t move, holding your ground.

“I’m proud of you, Dean,” you said quietly. “And you should be proud of yourself, too.”

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it knocked the air from your lungs. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, holding him just as tightly.

The two of you stayed like that, silent, the weight of the night slowly lifting.

Finally, you broke the quiet. “And don’t think you have to apologize for hitting me,” you said, your tone light, teasing.

Dean pulled back slightly, a small chuckle escaping him. “Nah, you deserved it.”

You smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through your chest.

Maybe you both had your scars, but in this moment, you knew they’d heal.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Wait for me” dead!Macaque x living!reader (1.5k words)

A/N: I know I’m mixing pantheons but I’ve been back on a musical hype and this time around it’s been Hadestown. I love the musical too much and it came to mind when listening to “Wait for Me (reprise)” that the Orpheus and Eurydice characters would work for Macaque and another person. Although terribly angsty I must fulfill my heart's desires.

The reader is currently walking up to the living world after convincing the god of the underworld to go on a trial to get their lover the Six-Eared Macaque back home with them. The trick is that if they look back at Macaque before they reach the surface he has to go back to the underworld.

otherwise known as the Orpheus and Eurydice myth from the author Virgil and/or Ovid

This story is told from the reader’s perspective who knew, met, and fell in love with Macaque before his confrontation with Wukong. So it might seem that they’re being too hard on Wukong for killing his sworn brother when they yell at him but they don’t know everything that happened between them. ***Only the rumors of Sun Wukong from local towns and what Macaque told them.*** So I just wanted to make that clear.

Although you knew you had begun the trial and Macaque must have been behind you, you couldn’t hear him and yet still you walked. Step after step of hoping you weren’t tricked by them. All you wanted to be back in his arms, dancing in the moonlight and counting the stars until dawn arrived. You remembered it as clear as day. You were just on a walk with him, strolling through the woods and laughing about a forest spirit you had run into who mistook you as being kidnapped only to apologize when it was clear you both were in love.

It was calm and quiet as most days were but Macaque heard something, someone, someone who he once called his brother. They hadn’t seen each other in centuries and the last they saw of one another wasn’t pleasant. At least that’s all that Macaque had told you and insisted that it was too painful to talk about which you respected. You both trusted each other more than anything and you hoped it’d get you through everything.

You didn’t know what caused that fight or whether it was fate or a coincidence that they saw one another that day after almost a thousand years. Flashes and shouts could be heard as they both clashed against one another. For a demon, the fight would be easier to see but you could only catch bits and pieces of the battle, seeing both celestial primates create big craters in nearby mountains and strong gales whipping across the land surrounding them.

Truthfully you were terrified for your life a couple of times as trunks of big trees were flung your way and when gales of wind threatened to carry you off the ground. Through all of it, your eyes desperately searched for Macaque in hopes of seeing anything pointing to his survival. That moment almost froze in time as someone whom you now recognized as Sun Wukong “Great Sage Equal to Heaven” stood over your lover. Before you knew it you raced to where they both were and ignored the scrapes and cuts you got from recklessly running through a battleground.

Sure you heard the rumors of the Monkey King traveling west from folks in nearby towns or villages but the demon you saw before was nothing like you had heard and you saw him raise his staff high. You wanted to cry out, scream, do anything to get him to stop to your voice failed to obey you. He fiercely growled before yelling and striking Macaque who lay at the bottom of a crater covered in severe injuries with his staff. Most notably three large gashes over his right eye, the blood hadn’t clotted yet and you doubted it would even if he came out alive.

You let out a sob as you thought about those last couple of words. “if he came out alive”. Catching his gaze for a second those few seconds held a thousand words. Despite the shadow of death inches away from ending his life, he still smiled with so much love in his eyes and hoped that you could continue to live your life with the promise of finding joy in the smallest things. He wished that you could forgive him for leaving you so soon when he’d assured you so much love and happiness in your future.

Both of you wanted time to stop, for anything to stop the inevitable, a miracle to happen. You couldn’t though. The last thing you would ever see of him would be through your warped teary vision, his midnight black fur caked with thick blood and deep cuts decorated his strong-built body. His beloved scarf that he treasured so much lay on the ground torn severely and a mix of blood and dirt obscured parts of his beautiful vibrant six ears; now partially covered in small cuts on the edges of each colorful lotus petal-shaped ear. Although one of his eyes had been badly damaged surely beyond repair you could see his gold shining eye meeting yours and sharing one last glance before the red powerful staff came down on Macaque.

Sun Wukong had light tears falling down his cheeks and slowly approached the now-still demon’s body with shaking hands, letting his staff fall from his grip and clattering to the ground. There was so much conflict in his expression and hesitation as to whether he should even touch his fallen brethren but you rushed in. Dirt, blood, and bruises clung to you as you tumbled into the crater and collapsed on your lover, sobbing harshly at the reality now hitting you and gripping the soft torn yellow and black fabric of his layered hanfu. You cried out in pain not caring about the outside world because if something happened to you then at least you’d be reunited with one another.

A firm hand gripped your shoulder and tried to pry you off to no success, his insistence on getting you to safety and pressing the message that no mortals should be here fell on deaf ears. You didn’t care about the things you said getting up weakly and shoving the Monkey King’s chest with shaky hands. “I don’t care! You killed him! You bastard! He told me you were once close.” you shouted and raised a hand, slapping the left side of his face hard and seeing him hiss through his teeth when you hit a deep cut on his cheekbone.

The world was silent. Not a leaf fell or animal chittered. Only when you turned around to go back to mourning the death of someone you loved so much and knew they loved you just as much did you hear the footsteps of others. Probably the Great Sage’s companions who came to see who the victor was. You could feel 5 pairs of eyes on you and guessed the dozens of questions they had of why a random mortal was crying over a powerful demon’s corpse. One of the travelers came towards you as you cradled Macaque in your arms, an unkempt pig demon walking towards you and gleefully shouting, “Don’t cry beautiful mortal. You’re saved from the horrible demon that kidnapped you, and his power is gone! Let us help-” he was cut off by Sun Wukong tugging him back before he could touch you.

You did your best to hold in the sobs and despair you had, forcing yourself to look up and focus on the demon responsible for all of your pain. “Go. Go and live knowing you not only killed someone close to you but broke the heart of his lover. I’m sure he’s resting peacefully now.” you spat. After a few tries you managed to pick Macaque up with his head resting on your chest and carefully walked back near to where you both lived. You didn’t bother to see Sun Wukong’s expression when to told him who you were to Macaque and how it cracked into shock and anguish.

That had been almost 2 months ago until you’d finally found a local mountain god that accepted your offering in exchange for information about how to get to the underworld and after you made your trek through hell you bargained with King Yan for your lover’s soul. Another rock bounced off your shoe and hit the gravel path. You couldn’t hear his footsteps or voice or breath and you questioned if he was even behind you at all. Memories of the good times you both shared pooled in your mind and allowed a soft smile to sneak up on your face. How you had both first met because of him mistaking you for an easy victim. Safe to say he failed to do anything because you fought back decently.

Your meetings were always by surprise at first but then Macaque began to show up regularly and seemed more curious about what you did and who you were. It was obvious he could do something else rather than “wasting” time on someone he failed to kill but you caught his interest. The same game was played fairly often until a week passed when he disappeared and you thought that was it. You were happily surprised when you went to your regular sight to gather herbs and saw sizable bundles of each herb you usually picked tied up all in a basket. Macaque ended up rising from the shadow of a nearby Rainbow Gum tree and apologizing for disappearing but offering to repay you. That night he confessed underneath the stars looking at the moon while he told you stories he heard during his travels.

A bright light blinded you in the dark tunnel that was now slowly opening into the base of the mountain you entered hours ago and you fought through the tight v-shaped opening until you reached the edge where obsidian-shaded gravel met the healthy forest floor. You couldn’t tell if it was you or Macaque who let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re here.”

[bloodstained-porcelain-doll]

The Kneeling Queen, ch 13 - Aemond Targaryen x OC

Read on AO3

Summary: Aemond Targaryen and Maelessa Velaryon were childhood lovers. They were each other’s only comfort in a world full of darkness. When they grew up, their love blossomed until they were the only thing the other cared about. Their lives get increasingly complicated due to the fact that they’re supposed to be on opposite sides of the war. Will their love survive or will it burn to ash as the war ensues?

Chapter warnings: Noncanonical dragons, canon divergence, smut, domestic abuse, rough sex, choking, slapping, knife/blood play, breeding kink

“The king is dead!” “They found him in his own chamber, throat slit and his hand around the knife.” “Could he truly have taken his own life?”

Maelessa poured wine into the cups as the members of the council discussed the king’s death. Just as when Viserys had died, the doors to the council room remained shut, and news of the king’s death were kept quiet until the council figured out their next move.

“We cannot afford to ponder and wait, the realm needs a ruler. War is being waged on us, we cannot sit and grieve and do nothing. We will hold a public funeral for my brother and afterwards, crown me in the dragon pit just like we did Aegon.” Aemond’s words were harsh but true. This was not the time for patience and slowness to act. Lord Larys was hesitant, Lord Jasper eager to agree with Aemond, and Maester Orwyle was mostly silent.

“It does seem rather conspicuous that the king would pass so suddenly, before he could speak…” Larys spoke. “Are you insinuating something, Lord Larys?” Maelessa interrupted him harshly. A small smirk appeared on Aemond’s lips.

“Stand down, Maelītsos. You’ve proven yourself a most valuable servant of the realm but I have not granted you a voice on this council,” he reminded her. She bowed her head quickly.

“Yes, your Grace, forgive me.” Heat burned between her legs at the public scorn. Aemond wisely pardoned the Clubfoot’s words, speaking with a voice soft as honey.

“It is only natural that we should ask ourselves the true circumstances of Aegon’s death. But we must accept that we may never truly know. I mourn my brother, truly. I loved him dearly. But for the good of the realm we cannot stall. We must proceed,” he stated, and so they did.

Aegon’s funeral was held in the eye of the public. Commoners were welcome to see the as king Aegon’s body, swaddled in bandages, was laid atop a large pyre. Aemond himself carried the torch toward the pyre to light it, honouring Aegon in the way of the dragonlords, sending him off in a great fire. He would have had Vhagar light the pyre in the traditional way, but the dragon was too large and too frightful to involve in such a ceremony. He spoke of his brother in high regard, he reminded the public of Aegon’s heroic deeds in the battle of Rook’s Rest, and laid him to rest calling him Aegon the Dragonheart. Tears were shed among the commoners, and Aemond played his part so perfectly that none would ever suspect him of having a hand in the king’s death. None but Larys Strong, who wouldn’t stop looking between Aemond and Maelessa suspiciously. She would have to find a way to deal with him.

Once the funeral was over, the royal company moved along to the dragonpit. Maelessa had polished the crown, the one of Aegon the Conqueror, and she was eager to place it upon her husband’s brow. She was the one who spoke at the coronation. The music of trumpets followed Aemond’s walk towards the stage, and when they quieted, Maelessa began to speak.

“In the time of Aegon the Dragonheart’s injury, prince Aemond has wisely and valiantly served the realm and your city as prince regent! In his short time as regent, he has marshalled armies to keep you safe from the attacks of the enemy!” She twisted her own tongue by calling her mother the enemy, felt the words tug at her very soul, but she went on. “He has sent his dragonrider to burn the enemy’s blockade, allowing food into the city once more! We should all be honoured to lift Aemond Targaryen up as our king!” her voice echoed through the hall and the commonfolk cheered her. More music played as she lifted up the crown of the Conqueror and placed it on Aemond’s head. Maelessa was the first to kneel before him, the new queen on her knees before her king, and then the septon made the announcement.

“All hail his Grace, Aemond Targaryen, first of his name! King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men! Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the Realm! Aemond the king!” he announced. The bells rang, the commoners cheered, and Maelessa smiled proudly. Finally, their plans of many years had come into place. Their time was here. Aemond was king, and she was his queen.

The joy had been short lived, as during his first council meeting as king, they had been interrupted by a sighting of a dragon. It was the dragon Seasmoke, flying over the city with a rider on his back. Maelessa was shocked, she couldn’t understand how her mother managed to find new dragonriders. Aemond had been furious, commanding Maelessa to stay inside the city while he jumped onto his horse and rode as fast as he could towards Vhagar where she rested outside the gates. She knew he headed towards Dragonstone, but the pain of waiting for him while she knew nothing of his whereabouts was killing her. 

She tried to be reasonable, tried to think of ways forward, what their next step would be, but all she could think about was where Aemond was, if he was unharmed, if he had met her mother. Who Seasmoke’s new rider was and if there were more. If she had found riders for Silverwing and Vermithor, Aemond could be in danger. She wanted to take Catlys and their new dragon friends and follow him, but she remembered his words. Your king commands you to stay. So she did.

While Aemond was gone, Alicent returned. She was struck with grief upon hearing of the death of her son, and showed not a trace of happiness at the news of Aemond’s coronation. She retired herself to Helaena’s chambers, preferring not to see anyone else.

When Aemond finally returned he was covered in ash, blind with rage.

“My love!” Maelessa exclaimed as she ran to greet him, but was met with the back of his hand splitting her cheek. She crashed towards the wall and cried out in shock rather than pain. Quickly his hand snaked around her throat and pinned her to the stone wall.

“You mother has risen three new dragons against us! All of them have riders!” he spat, eye flashing madly. Maelessa clawed at his wrists. “I would have burned them all, but Vhagar and I were forced to retreat.” His grip softened and he leaned his forehead against hers, tracing his thumb over the tiny wound on her cheek. “I need you, Maelītsos, I am lost without you. I did something mad,” he whispered.

“What did you do, my king?” she asked, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. His breath was heavy, and his hands opened and closed, debating if he should strike her again, or touch her gently to still his rage.

“Sharp point. We burned it to the ground,” he confessed, bowing his head in shame, resting it against hers. She sighed in defeat and Aemond clutched her waist with his trembling hands. “I’m frightened, Maelessa. I don’t know what to do. Help me,” he begged, and she wiped away the tears on his face before anyone could see. Nodding, she took his face in her hands.

“I will, Aemond. Go talk to Helaena. Her dragon is the largest we have after Vhagar. See if you can’t persuade her to use Dreamfyre to defend the city. And speak with your councillors, too. Tell them what happened. But Aemond,” she said, grabbing his wrist before he could take off. “Be careful what you say to Larys. I don’t trust him.”

Aemond nodded, taking her advice. He ran his thumb over the cut on her cheek again and gave her a look, a silent apology, before he left.

News of the atrocities at Sharp Point spread quickly, and it seemed Aemond had no luck with his council or with his sister. He returned to Maelessa even more angry than before, this time he found her in their chambers.

“Helaena! That’s your solution!” he yelled, slamming the door behind him. Maelessa rose from the chair, looking her mad king in the eye.

“She refused to help?” she asked. Aemond’s hands twitched, eager to hurt something, or someone. She took a step forward.

“Don’t…” he warned, raising his hand to halt her. She took another step forward. “Maelītsos, stop, I’ll hurt you again.” His voice shook with pain and his hand still trembled. “I’m not scared of you,” she said, taking step after step towards him.

“I burnt a city to the ground because I was afraid and angry!” he yelled. “I’m not myself! There is something inside me that burns, that makes me…” he trailed off and looked away, beating at his chest in frustration, unable to look at her. “We are at war! There’s no one I can trust anymore save for you and I cannot ask you to fight your family! What I did to you upon my return, it wasn’t by choice! Burning that village, striking you… I’m so angry, all the time. You’re the only person that can still my rage and yet…” He let out a scream. Maelessa took his hand and brought it up to her chest, placing his fingers on the scars spelling out his name.

“Hurt me. I can take it,” she whispered. Aemond looked up at her, his eye wide. He shook his head.

“I don’t trust myself,” he insisted, but Maelessa smiled and remained calm.

“I trust you. Whatever you do now it’ll be done in fury. That’s no way for a king to act. Let me be your outlet. Hurt me as much as you like, take all your anger out on me and then we’ll resume talks of how to move forward. Trust me, my king. I can take it.” Her voice was just a whisper, but it was enough for Aemond to growl and wrap his fists around her throat, shoving her backwards against the wall and squeezing until she beat at his arms, clawing for breath. Just before she was about to lose consciousness he released her, slapped her face with his palm and then the back of his hand, leaving a purple bruise on her cheekbone. She yelped in pain but smiled at him, happy to be of service.

He crashed his lips down on hers, bit her lip, her tongue, her jaw, her neck, palming at her body through her clothes, ripping holes in the sheer pink gown she wore, rubbing his hands over her breasts and tearing the dress down. He slapped her tits, time and time again until she whimpered and cried, hunching over in pain, then he fisted his hand in her hair and forced her back up to look at him as he pinched her nipples tightly. Despite her tears, Maelessa felt herself grow wet and needy for her king. She would never tire of being used by him, training her body to take whatever abuse he wished to give her.

The tattered remains of her dress fell off when he pushed her towards the floor and she stumbled and fell. He threw the gown aside and shoved her face down into the cold floor as he mounted her. She panted with excitement as she heard him struggle with his belt and trousers. His mind was too clouded with rage and lust to even speak, all he could do was snarl as he dug his nails into her behind and rammed his hard cock into her eagerly awaiting cunt. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned, tasting the floor beneath her as he set a rough and relentless pace, fucking her until her cheek and hips scraped against the stone.

She heard the sound of him spitting before she felt it on her face, and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. Angrily, he spat on her again before he rubbed his saliva all over her face, mixing it with the blood from the cut on her cheek. It stung deliciously.

“More,” she begged. “Hurt me, Aemond, I want it…” 

His cock hit so deeply inside her she swore it touched her cervix, and then he pulled the Valyrian steel dagger from his pants, bringing it to her throat. The threat of the cold steel against her skin at each thrust drove her mad with desire, and judging from the feral sounds coming from Aemond, it had the same effect on him. When he pressed her face into the floor again and thrust into her, the dagger nicked her skin, drawing blood. She winced, but he didn’t acknowledge it, lost in his own pleasure. The blade nicked her again and again before Aemond changed his angle. She now found her cheek being smeared in her own blood as he fucked her mercilessly, and the insanity of it all had her spiralling towards an orgasm in no time.

Three more rough thrusts up against her cervix had her coming undone, crying out his name, shaking beneath him as he sank his teeth into the skin of her shoulder, leaving his mark. When she came down from her high he pulled out of her and dragged her up by her wrist, smacking her bloody face one more time for good measure before he bent her over the table and thrust into her again, pumping into her wildly, chasing his own pleasure.

“I’ll fill you…” he growled. “I’ll put my heir into you… fill your sweet cunt with my seed until it takes root. You’ll bear an heir for me, Maelītsos, I know you will.” His words were ragged, punctuated by his snapping hips grinding into her. With his fists in her hair, he growled one more time and spilled his seed inside her, burying his cock deep. His thrusts grew slow and erratic and then he finally stilled. His hands released her hair and travelled down her back softly, scratching her skin. He pulled out of her and slumped back against the bed, and Maelessa tried to turn around to face him but stumbled, giggling. She sat back into the armchair and watched her husband breathe heavily.

Aemond’s seed dripped out of her wet pussy. What fun for the maids to clean, she thought. He looked at her and his face changed, regret drawing his brows together and he frowned.

“Look at you…” he mumbled. “I put you through too much.”

Maelessa smiled at him and rose, walking on shaky legs towards him and taking his face in her hands.

“Don’t go soft on me now, my king. You needed this,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. Then she was the one to find a wet rag to clean them both up with. As they sat down together, she in Aemond’s lap on the armchair, she decided now was the time. “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s good news. I’ve made a discovery.” “What sort of discovery?” he wondered, trailing his fingers down her thigh.

“One that will help us in the war. When Catlys and I visited the Kingswood we found dragons. Wild ones. Two are fighting size, two are babes,” she informed him, brushing through his hair with her fingers. Aemond’s eye widened.

“Wild dragons in the city? Impossible,” he insisted. “Even so, they’re wild. They won’t fight for us. And even if they would, we have no riders for them! I’m not putting low born bastards on dragons like Rhaenyra.” Maelessa smiled again, excited to tell him of her experiments. “I’ve trained them,” she said. Aemond furrowed his brows and looked at her on confusion. “Just like dogs. I taught them commands and gave them meat when they obeyed. They will fight with us, Aemond, even without riders, I’m certain of it.” “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, searching her eyes frantically.

“I needed to be absolutely certain before I told you. One of them must have been in the air and seen us when we flew to burn the blockade. It followed us and helped us burn the ships, without command, simply because it expected food in return. I’m certain they’ll help us protect the city if we throw some sheep at them. What do you say?” she asked and bit her lip eagerly.

“I say you’re fucking brilliant, Maelessa.”

***

After spending half the night speaking his his wife, Aemond made another attempt to talk to his sister. Her dragon was formidable, and despite the wild dragons Maelessa had found, they needed more. Dreamfyre would tip the scales in their favour again.

“Sister,” he spoke softly as he approached her on her balcony. “We share the same blood, you and I. I know you wish no harm to anyone. But in a time like this, when the good of the realm depends on us…” He extended his hand, reaching out to touch her, but stopped himself, remembering how he had lost control earlier and treated her much harsher than she deserved, just like he had his own wife. He would not touch her, he decided, fearing he would lose control again. He continued speaking. “Our mother is not a dragonrider. She cannot understand that you and I have a truer call to heed. Come with me,” he said, sounding much more vulnerable that he meant to. “To Harrenhal. We will lay waste to Daemon and his army. Let our enemies see that we will answer outrage with outrage.”

When he had told Maelessa of his plans to go to Harrenhal, she had cried. She didn’t like the idea of him leaving, she thought as king he needed to remain here in the city to protect it. Aemond saw her point, but he also knew that Daemon’s newly marshalled army needed to be defeated, and he thought the best way to do it was by taking Vhagar. Now that Maelessa was queen, she could stay in the city and rule in his absence. Helaena didn’t even turn to face him as she answered.

“And if I refuse? Will you burn me as you did Aegon?” she asked, and Aemond froze. His blood grew cold and he felt like his tongue grew in his mouth. How did she know?

“That is a lie,” he whispered. Now his sister turned to look at him.

“I saw it,” she said, looking at him with intent in her eyes like he’d never seen before. Usually, she looked off into the distance or her eyes were cloudy and lost in thought Now she seemed to be staring directly into his soul. “You burned him, and you let him fall.” “What you say is treason,” Aemond countered, desperately wanting to find a way out of this conversation. He didn’t understand how Helaena could know this, and it would only get worse. 

“Or will you let your wife cut my throat in my bed?” she asked. Now Aemond’s hands trembled again and he was fearful for real. How could this be?

“I could have you killed for accusing the queen of such an act,” he threatened, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Coming for him was one thing, coming for Maelessa was another entirely. Helaena didn’t look menacing, though, she didn’t look angry, she did not appear to want to threaten him. She simply spoke as if she had read their story before it had played out.

“The Stranger looms over your shoulder wherever you go. She’s the only reason he will not catch you.” Helaena spoke ominously, then turned to leave him and return back to her chamber. But before she entered, she stopped. “I did not go with you to Harrenhal. But I rode Dreamfyre to protect your wife. That is my part, for the kneeling queen must live in order for you to see victory.”

Aemond returned to his sleeping wife, spooked. He nestled himself close to her warm naked body and held her tightly. If he could make any sense of Helaena’s words, Maelessa would play a more important part in this war than he had ever thought.

Tag list: @magnificentsapphiresoul @ner-dee @sadgirlxangel

[go-on-eat-shrooms]

IF THE STARS SAID YOU COULDNT LOVE ME PART 1

Warning: +18

Contains: smut, blood, blades, mentions of Braavos, faceless men, Brackens and Blackwoods battling.

Music to listen to: star crossed lovers by scary kids scarying kids.

The song is beyond perfect.

Summary: You could not ever repeat your birth and who your family is. But when you met Benijocot Blackwood you were willing to fight against the stars to prevent fate from winning.

Being the only daughter of House Bracken had its good and bad moments. You were the type to like the night time or near dawn to go out for walks. Your father always warned you not to go alone but you always defied his wishes.

One night you wondered further than you expected. Lost in thought that you'll be old enough to be betrothed to someone soon was terrifying. So you found the night walks comforting. You didn't want to get married. You didn't want to serve anyone. If you could, you would stay with your brothers and father. Combating and living a happy life. But the real world was not that.

You collapsed on the grass and started sobbing. It wasn't fair.

Unbeknownst to you, someone was watching you. You didn't notice you were severely lost in thought of your terrifying future.

"A young girl such as you shouldn't be out by herself. Especially this late at night. Not only that, I never seen you before. So you are not part of my house. You're lucky your a girl or I would of shot arrows into you long ago."

Benijcot spoke gently.

You looked up startled. Forgetting that you must of went past the barrier stones. And you might just met your death bc you finally where seeing with your own eyes the boy that your brothers and well anyone from your house told was an inhumane beast. But what came next surprised you to your core.

Benjicot sat down next to you on the grass.

"Where are you from and why are you crying as you were on deaths door?"

He said concerned.

"I deeply apologize for wondering too far from where I am suppose to be." You said in hesitation.

You tried quickly getting up but he slumped you back down with his strong hold.

"Are you the Bracken girl that's always amongst all those arseholes?"

He sneered.

"Those assholes are my brothers." You sniffed lightly.

"I been watching you for a long time. I must confess I find seeing you comforting. Though I do not know why. Your pretty and I seen you practice combat in the distance with your so called brothers."

Benji said lightly.

Surprised you didn't have a sword in your neck already you asked yourself if Benji was drunk. You were a Bracken an enemy to house Blackwood.

"Why are you being so nice to me? Since you clearly know who I am." You said softly.  The tears drying slowly on your cheeks in slow comfort.

"As I said, I been watching you, it's kinda odd you would belong to such a family. And for your knowledge I'm not a monster all the time."  He grinned.

From that night on both of you made plans to meet at odd times as to not be caught doing the unthinkable. You always took strolls together through the river banks and forests. Getting to know each other and enjoying one another's company. You had seen a side of Benjicot that was mentioned but thought it couldn't be true. He was sweet, very generous, and most of all cared for you. You had suspicions that you had become more than just friends.

One night you came to the first spot you met him. He waited for you there most times. You told him it was going to be over for you soon. Benji looked concerned and felt his heart drop.

"You can't let them control your life! You have to fight! You must fight! I don't want to lose you. You're my only happy thought when I close my eyes at night and wake in the morning when light hits my face. You are the first name I whisper when I wake in the morning. You are a piece of me like my sword to my sheath. If the stars said you couldn't love, tell me Y/N would you really listen?"

This strong confession of love from a man who was known to slaughter everything and everyone in his wake in battles but had ripped out his heart and gave it to you made you start sobbing.

"I really don't know how to find an open door. I'm trapped inside a chamber with iron gates my love." You sob

"Then let me tear that iron prison with my sword as I have with any other obstacles in my wake! You ever been on a ship? 4 nights from now one docks to Bravos. Lets get the fuck out of here and i know exactly who to go to to help us" Benji growled.

"Who can possibly help us with this situation that's too powerful to break?!" You whispered looking at the ground.

"There's a man with no name, that can change his face like he changes his tunics. He can help us."

"What are you talking about, a man that can change his face? I think you become so shocked you are starting to think like a mad man." You looked up in disbelief of his statement.

"I'm not lying, I been to a huge temple called 'the house of black and white' and there are faces carved off from dead bodies. They are placed on pillars higher than the sky itself. I went there as a kid when I got lost from my father. There I learned the power that has never been seen in the Riverlands. I acquired the skills I know to fight to this day on the battle grounds. 4 days from now we will leave."

You looked at him bewildered and told him more bad news. By that time your wedding takes place.

"Fuck it, run away with me! There can be no man that can ever lay hands on you but me. No man that can caress your skin, no man that can sexually please you BUT ME, and especially not a fucking cunt stranger!!"

Benji screamed

"If the stars say I can't love you I won't listen. What's the point of living without my air. You are my air. Alright 4 nights from now." You said exhausted from crying.

4 nights from that moment you were preparing for your wedding to house Stark. Your handmaid's were helping you put your wedding dressing on. You could feel your heart beating so hard you thought it was gonna explode.

"Tonight is the night" you whispered

One hand maiden asked you if you said something. But you told her you needed a few moments to take it all in. But the truth was Benji was waiting at the bottom of your tower. Oh, you were gonna jump off that big ass height. Waiting below was Benji by Winterfell tower.

You were gonna give the sign on your start to jump down. Lighting a candle. You ripped the white dress off your body and quickly but on fitted riding trousers and a simple blouse.

You started breathing hard, but first put your whole bed by the door. You ran to the window, lighting the candle. You slipped your right, then left leg and sat on your window. You could see the steep drop, but also the man you would tell the old gods and the new they had no control over your future.

You slid beyond fast your breath got lost in basically not a thought but not dying.

You heard slaming and yelling from above.

Benji had your horse you immediately jumped on. You could hear the commotion fading away.

"I'm sorry father, brothers and sorry Cregan." You whispered.

Benji gave you the reins to your horse and the both of you rode away from Winterfell lands.

As expected a ship was docked awaiting your embankment to a mysterious start.

As you yourself docked the ship you heard.

"Valar Morghulis" from Benji giving a coin to the ships captain. The captain more than understood the assignment. And responded 'Valar Dohaeris'.

"What does that mean?" You asked intrigued.

"It's high valerian my father taught me. It means all men must die. And what the captain said was 'all men must serve.' Looking at you sternly.

Both of you felt the sails arise from atop. The commands of the captain to his crew to get their asses in check and prepare to depart the port.

The captain guided you to your quarters underneath the deck. A simple room with 1 bed. The captain grinned and shut the door slowly before stating it'll be a long journey but it'll be worth it.

You sat on the bed nervous, excited, your heart in your mouth, tears forming as to what you just did to your family and poor Cregan. In reality he was a good man. But there was no room for another man in your heart then Benjicot.

"We should get some sleep, it's been a long day for both of us." Benji sighed.

You began to take off your boots and trousers so that you were only left wearing a white thin blouse. Benji took off his tunic but leaving on his trousers. You laid on your side towards the wall. Benji decided to spoon you. Holding onto your waist and slowly making his way up to your breast. You could feel his cock growing under neath cloth. Pulsing with pleasure. He slide his trousers off slowly and placed his hard cock in between your thighs. Slowly thrusting his way near your folds. He felt how wet you got bc of him.

"As it should be, only get wet for me. You belong to me, my little doe." he said softly.

Coming closer he rubbed himself closer to your ass and slide his throbbing thirsty cock inside you. He began to thrust slowly. Since it was a while since the two of you were intimate. You let him lose himself into your body.

He kissed your neck and left soft kisses on your shoulders. He slipped off your blouse. And flung it on the floor. Cupping your right breast. And started massaging your nipple.

"My Y/N." He whispered.

He started picking up his thrusts. having a firm grip on your hip to keep you in place to taking his left index finger inside your folds. Slowly massaging your clit.

You couldn't help but to arch your neck backwards.

"Ride me."  he said

As he laid down on his back. You placed yourself onto of him. Spreading your legs as wide as you could. You started to stroke his girthy cock. Sliding it back and forth your folds. Inserting his beautiful cock inside you. To the most inner parts of your womb. You gasped and moaned his name.

You slowly started bouncing on him. His hands grabbing firm to your hips. Picking up the pace he started arching his hips upwards. Helping you to reach to see nirvana.

You felt a warm sensation inside you. His cum was dripping off his cock. But he wasn't done.

"Turn on your back, I want to cream pie you my sweet doe."

You did as he asked. Spreading your legs as wide as they could. He inserted his length once more inside you. But this time feeling the hunger he was holding back for days. He was pounding you so hard it started to hurt. You moaned loudly, enough to make the near by crew start saying

"fuck her good Lord Benji! It's gonna be a long ass voyage to Braavos!"

Laughter exploded. A huge grin formed on Benjis face. His hair drenched in sweat completely out of breath. He took you into his arms and you both fell asleep.

But the unthinkable thing you just did with the man you actually loved was wild. Your father and brother also friends of the family and poor Cregan. In the end it was for the best. The seven hells could not separate you from your man. Nor blood or a good man. You finally drifted off to sleep in the arms of your beloved.

Part 2

[iris0-0]

I promise I’m here.

Mom!Tess Servopoulos x sh!daughter reader

Synopsis: Tess, your mother has always given you tough love. Trying to raise you to be respectful and grateful. Though when hard times fall upon you, you cannot seem to tell your mother as you feel she will see you as weak and pathetic.

Warnings: Tess being soft, reader is referred to in more female pronouns, blood, mentions of depression, mentions and descriptions of self harm, I do not encourage this behavior and am here for anyone <3 this is definitely not personal

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Familiar sounding music invaded the current deep sleep you were in. Eyes fluttering open, before quickly closing them due to the early morning light invading through the blinds.

The door opens and you feel a harsh pat on your back, “Cmon kid, gotta catch the bus.” Tess says, making sure you’re awake before leaving the room.

Getting up you looked at the old digital clock on the nightstand that read 6:40 a.m. Fuck. If you didn’t pick up the pace there would be another tardy slip with your name on it, and with that a scold from your mother.

Grabbing whatever pants were on the desk chair and a shirt you grab the same black zip-up jacket you took everyday…to hide the scars. Thankfully your mother Tess wasn’t very noisy as long as you didn’t give any “teenage attitude” was what she liked to call it. So she never really picked up on your habits

Self-harm wasn’t something you were proud of. It started 3 years ago when you were 13. Middle school was an absolute bitch, not to mention the other struggles that have happened in the meantime. You tried to get clean….but it never lasted long, it was a tough battle.

Slipping on the jacket and grabbing your book bag you go down the stairs to grab a banana or some shit to say you ate breakfast. Tess was brewing a cup of coffee before she herself was off to work. She eyed you up and down a bit before smirking to herself. Annoyed you give her a look that basically said ‘what?’.

“When’s the last time you washed that jacket?” She asked. “You were it practically everyday.” Walking towards you she tried to get closer to at least make sure it smelled clean, as teenagers could be lazy or dirty sometimes.

Not wanting her to move the jacket in case of any risk of exposing what was below you responded in a bantering manner to try and keep up your cool act. “Mom! Stop it! I washed it this week.” You smile dodging her grasp and walking to the door to catch the bus.

“If you say so.” She shrugs. “Go learn and shit.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

School. Highschool sophomore to be specific. Grades weren’t that much of a problem, you were told you were ‘a smart kid’. Having average level classes and a work ethic (sometimes) helped. It wasn’t the work, it was the people.

Once again for English there was a project. Why do English teachers have a project nobody likes every week? Everyone got up and looked around to choose partners…nobody chose you. Shocker. ‘Okay, who cares? I’ll do it myself as usual.’ You thought.

But of course it wasn’t okay. Depression shuffled your mind again replaying old scenarios and listing reasons why none of the other kids wanted to work with you.

Putting headphones on and shuffling random shit, mainly tv girl you got to work and try to forget but to no avail. Taking a break in the middle to go to the bathroom.

Always keeping a blade handy you sit in the bathroom stall. ‘Why am I doing this again? Don’t really know don’t really care.’ You think.

Taking the jacket off halfway the view of the old and fresh marks come into place. It was never enough. Addicted was the word, but it’s perfectly fine isn’t it?

‘Doing what I do best.’ Sliding the blade like it was a damn hobby. Did it sting? Maybe a little but the relief was too strong, it overpowered any pain. That was, until you zoned out. Going deeper, was it intentional? Who knows.

Hitting a vein blood trickled down, quicker than the cuts before that would stop bleeding soon. There was too much. And of course depression comes with anxiety. How come you were fine mutilating yourself but the moment you got dizzy all hell broke loose. I need to get out.

Quickly thinking of an excuse out of habit you called the only person you had, your mom. Were you dying of blood loss? Hell no. But you were on the verge of passing out and eating shit on the schools bathroom floor.

The phone rang a few times.

“Please..please..please.” You mutter.

T: “Hello? Im in a meeting did you butt dial me again?” Your mom Tess says, a bit confused.

“I need you to pick me up, please.”

T: “Kid, I’m in the middle of a meeting.” She sighs, though she hears the panic in your voice. “If it means that much to ya I’ll getchu right after, in maybe half an hour?”

“Okay.” You respond swallowing your tears.

T: “You cryin kid?” She asks suddenly concerned.

“No.” You deny, and you can hear her sigh from the other end.

T: “I’ll get you in a bit.” She said sternly.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

About a half an hour passed. The bleeding was under control but you were weak as hell. Loosing blood was no joke, dizzy and nauseating to say the least. ‘I think I just lost more blood than a period.’ You thought.

A text from your mom saying she’s here and you signed out at the front office, slightly swaying in your steps as you walk the short walk from the front of the school to the car.

Tess was sitting, hand on the steering wheel. The glint from the sun shining just over the scar under her eye. You couldn’t read her face. Was she pissed about picking you up two hours into the school day and about you interrupting her meeting. Regardless you opened the car door.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing spoken and Tess nodded to the action keeping her eyes forward as she drove the two of you home.

Walking in the house Tess put up her keys. You tried to sneak upstairs. “Nope. Come back.” Tess said sternly before pointing to the couch. “Sit.”

Annoyed but not trying to test your mother, you sat your ass back down. “Tell me why I picked you up.” She asked and you just shrugged looking at the floor.

“That’s not an answer and you know it. I love you and I’m trying not to be upset with you but kid, I need to know. You called me in the middle of a meeting you knew I was in crying.” Tess said, a bit stern.

“It doesn’t even matter.” You say a bit annoyed at the persistence and not having an answer to the question that you wanted to tell her.

“Look at me.” She says, as you look straight at the ground. “I just didn’t feel good.” You say looking her in the eye, it was hard. She had the type of eyes that made you spill everything.

Staring felt like forever her eyes narrowing, until your left eye twitched. “You’re lying.” She says crossing her arms over her chest. “No I’m not.” Your eye twitches again, betraying you.

“Yes you are! Your eye is twitching like Nemo’s fucking special fin.” Tess responded. “How the hell would you even know if I was lying? You’re always gone!”

“Language! I’m gone providing for you!” The two of you yelled back and forth for ages. Slowly but surely you were growing enraged. Having bipolar disorder and anger issues Tess knew you needed to calm down before you passed out.

“Okay come on you need to calm down.” She says strictly but assuringly. Even though she was upset with the argument as well she didn’t want it to get worse with you passing out for continuing to dig your nails into your arms.

She took ahold of your shoulders and began to guide you to your room. And shortly after being alone you’d calm down and she’d come back and the two of you would talk it out.

But…that did not happen this time. As she tried to move you, you resisted. “Hey stop. Calm down.” She said trying to grab your arms as you tried to get out her reach. With the fresh cuts and the excessive deep one a whine of pain was let out.

Tess paused momentarily and debated on backing off, but she didn’t. You had been acting different and were on the verge of a panic attack.

With harsh short breaths through go your nose you knew there was nothing else you could do to hide anymore, you were too weak. “What’s hurtin’ hm?” Tess states touching your hands, shoulders, and head gently.

But when she glides over your arms you bit your lip. Razor burn was hitting hard. “Okay let’s get this off..” she mumbles slowly taking the jacket off after she sat you down on the couch.

“Oh honey…” was all Tess could say, staring at the cuts, scars, deep, and shallow. She tries to comfort you but too shaked up and overstimulated. “Okay okay.” Tess backs off, leaving for a short moment to grab the random first aid crap in the bathroom.

She comes back and cleans very carefully, trying not to upset or overstimulate you. As well as to not hurt you. “Breath baby.” She holds your face softly trying to calm you down.

After awhile the cleaning and wrapping is done. It was safe to say Tess could understand why. You had bad bipolar disorder and meltdowns. “Why didn’t you tell me hm?” She asks sitting next to you.

“Cause I didn’t want to worry you and give you more trouble cause it started when dad left and-“ You couldn’t finish beginning to sob.

She pulls you into her tightly and holds you. Quietly shh’ing you, cradling you like a baby. “I’m here I’m not going anywhere. I’m not him.”

Tess holds onto you as you fall asleep. And she’ll always be there for you.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

THIS TOOK FOREVER OVER A WEEK I GOT STUCK. Anyways happy birthday to me <3 Love you stay safe.

[high-mackrels-musings]

Shatterpoint: A Mace Windu Musical Chapter 2 A Leader.

I think enough people enjoyed the first song I wrote up. So, I’ll keep it going until someone tells me to stop, or until someone actually talented enough to write musicals takes over.

The second song takes a little more of a personal approach with Mace, as he reflects on what the war is doing to the Jedi, and what his choices did to a lot of this being based on the opening chapters of the novel Shatterpoint.

Links:

Chapter 1: Guide Us

Chapter 3: A Daughter

Youtube Link:

A Leader

[Mace scans the remains of the battlefield, his face hard and stoic. He sees the dead and burned remains of civilization.]

Mace: How did all this come to pass? The sight of all this pain in mass. I was meant to put an end to this, In my dreams I do not miss

On that desert planet I see it clear A single stroke, and no need to fight here A single death could have stopped it all Or so I think, I know a Jedi must follow the call

[Mace’s commlink goes off, and he answers it to reveal Yoda. The peculiar green mas.]

Yoda: Much trouble I sense, Worry clouds your mind. Strong you are, but careful must you be, For strength alone the path will not find.

Mace: Master Yoda, I see the toll, On every heart, every soul. But our duty is known Hold the line fight even if alone

Yoda: Hesitate with Dooku you did Your friend he was No shame in that Compassion reward on its own.

Saved Young Skywalker in the end, The Chosen One, his path unclear. The future not always known, but You set the choice free.

No shame in doubt, no fault in care, You chose to save Kenobi and Skywalker Trust in the Force, it guides us still, Through the darkness, we will walk.

Needed on Courscant you are soon, Return, your presence needed it is.

[The Commlink shuts down and mace is left alone with his thoughts.]

Mace: Master Yoda, a leader to inspire, Beside him, even I feel like a child. He guides us through both peace and fire, Yet to me, their faith is compiled.

I’m a warrior, born to fight, Forged my own path, my own might. Through Vaapad, I let the dark in But never let it win

I take their darkness, their rage, their fear, Turn it back on them, make it disappear. I can do this, I’m strong, I’m sure, But what if their hearts cannot endure?

For my fellow Jedi, I see the cost, The struggle, the fire, the battles lost. On Depa, on Quinlan, on K’Kruhk too, And even on him—the one who’ll break through.

I sense it all—the darkness, the pain, The order we built is starting to wane. I cannot falter, I cannot doubt, I must fight on, see this through without.

But still, I wonder, deep in my core, What becomes of the Jedi amidst this war? What of the young, who know only strife? Will they ever find peace in their life?

We were keepers of peace, not soldiers of war, Now we march through battles, blood and gore. The Code guides us, but does it bend? What lies for the Jedi at this war’s end?

[spacebobastories]

My Goodbye

So, I’ve been listening a lot to Jorge Rivera-Herrans work. He’s the guy who is making the Odyssey book into a musical and the songs are freaking amazing. In this song called “My Goodbye” it features Odysseus and Athena singing to each other. Odysseus lets his emotions get ahold of him and Athena wants him to put his emotions aside and be someone strong. They’re arguing until both go their separate ways.

Okay, so now that you have the idea of what the song is about, I’m going to replace Odysseus and Athena with Louis and Charlotte fighting with each other. Charlotte does act a lot like Athena and Louis wears his heart on his sleeve, someone who cares too much and can’t really be a “true warrior” so, hope you guys enjoy!

Louis talking

Charlotte talking

Spirits

Warnings: angst :(

It was raining hard this night. The clouds dark and angry, letting rain pour down like someone emptying buckets of water on the land below. Inside the cabin that Louis and Charlotte were staying at was quiet. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as Louis paced back and forth. The man was exhausted, he hadn’t slept in days and when he did. All he could see was the broken and beaten bodies of his men. He still had the dried blood from the battle on his skin and in his hair. He had been outside as well, muddy shoes and legs from falling on the ground. Louis had deep bags under his eyes from the loss of sleep. He was a mess.

The team that he had been assigned to was killed. All 46 of his men were gone. Louis let out a high whine, filled with stress and anger. Anger at himself for letting down his team. For letting his men down, for letting them *die.* He could still hear their screams echoing in that cave. The stench of death was still so heavy on his nose that he could taste it. There was a war going on and he was supposed to go into the cave to kill the enemy. But he didn’t realize they had an upper hand. A Cyclops.

“You are reckless, sentimental at best.” Charlotte’s sharp voice cut through the suffocating silence and Louis looked up at his sister with wide eyes filled with anger, anguish and unshed tears. “That’s not a teaching of mine. You’ve grown soft, your dead friends can attest (Hey), put your emotions aside.” The woman was leaning against the back of the couch, a stern look in her eyes. Louis remembered when she looked at him with kindness, like an older sister would have.

Now, the look she gave him was stern, cold…not even an ounce of pity in her green gaze. Louis swallowed thickly as he stopped pacing and turned towards her, surprise and anger swirling in his golden gaze. Charlotte pushed off the couch, she was much cleaner than Louis. Her skin didn’t have blood, mud or any signs of battle. Her golden hair, long and flowing was clean and he could smell the scent of lilacs coming from her.

The older woman crossed her arms “You’re a warrior, meant to lead the rest. I don’t know where I went wrong. But I warned you and you failed the test. So now I’m gone. This way, you’ll know what your place is. This way, you can’t cross the line. This way, when all is over, you’ll keep yours and I’ll keep mine.”

Louis couldn’t believe what she was saying and could feel his chest tightening up. Either from anger or sadness he couldn’t tell. He stared at his older sister with so many emotions he couldn’t pick which he wanted to lash out with first. Charlotte walked past him to the door where her coat was, a cold and detached look on her face and he swallowed thickly. His mouth felt dry yet he felt like he wanted to vomit, cry and scream all at the same time.

“This way, you won’t disappoint me. This way, you won’t waste my time. This way, I’ll close the door. Consider this as my goodbye.”

Louis quickly spun around to face her, letting out a bitter laugh and shrugged “That’s just like you, why should I be surprised?” Louis swallowed thickly again, fighting back the tears he wanted to let fall. He wanted to punch her for being like this. She was supposed to his sister not this. “Selfish and prideful and vain. Unlike you, every time someone dies, I’m left to deal with the strain. What’s a title that a goddess could lend, if I’ll never sleep at night? I’ll remind you, I saw you as a friend. But now we’re done.” Charlotte turned around to look at her brother, crossing her arms as she watched him step closer to her. Tears were in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. The reason she’s treating him this way, the way she’s cold towards him is to teach him a lesson. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s too kind, quick to help someone that he doesn’t know anything about. Growing up, she thought they weren’t close. How cold she was to him…but he saw her as a friend. Someone that made him feel safe. She couldn’t take her words back now, she wouldn’t back down now and apologize.

He had gotten 46 men killed because of his actions and when he was supposed to get away quietly, he made his name known. Now he was being hunted down by the God of the Sea. She couldn’t protect him, not even with the Gods and Goddesses on her side. He would have to learn the hard way.

“This way, you’re out of my head. This way, you won’t plague my life. This way, when all is done, you’re out of sight and out of mind. This way, you get what you wanted. This way, you can save your time. This way, you close the door and have your damn goodbye.” Louis could feel his heart pounding against his chest, he was afraid it was going to burst out and run away. His whole body was shaking and he felt light headed while he looked down at his sister, standing taller than her. But he felt small in her gaze. Charlotte let out a small sigh as she uncrossed her arms and shook her head, pity flashed in her eyes for just a second before going back to her distant and cold gaze.

“You’re not looking for a mentor, I’m not looking for a friend. I mistook you for a general. What a waste of effort spent.” Her tone was condescending and it made him pissed off. How dare she talk to him like that? Just…brushing him off like he was nothing? Louis gritted his teeth, eye flashing dangerously as he stepped towards her. Charlotte kept her ground as she looked into Louis’ eyes. His gaze was hot like molten lava.

“At least I know what I’m fighting for. While you’re fighting to be known. Since you claim you’re so much wiser, why’s your life spent all alone? You’re alone!” Louis panted lightly from yelling and he watched as Charlotte was stunned, eyes wide and filled with shock and something else. The woman took a deep breath and turned away, crossing her arms back over her chest. She chuckled softly, shaking her head. Her voice was soft yet cold maybe holding some sadness or pity he couldn’t tell.

“One day, you’ll hear what I’m saying. One day, you might understand. One day, but not today. For after all, you’re (just a man)” Charlotte grabbed her coat and slipped it over her shoulders. Louis watched her, hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to hate her. But all he felt was pain. Pain from losing his men but also losing another sister. The older woman kept her back to Louis, reaching out towards the door and grabbing the handle.

“This day, you sever your own hand. This day, you cut the line. This day you lost it all. Consider this as my goodbye.” Louis watched as his sister opened the door and stepped out into the rain. The door closed and he was left alone in the cabin. His could hear his blood pumping in his ears and clenched his hands so hard that he cut his palm with his nails. The redhead’s breathing was fast and hard as he yelled out. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he fell to his knees and slammed his fist onto the floor. He might have said she was alone…but he was the one who was left alone in the end.

“Consider this as my goodbye”

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

“This is my goodbye”

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

“Consider this as my goodbye”

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

“This is my goodbye”

[smallfry372659]

Smallfry what are all the names you gave your non Salmon friends (a.i your sib and the others)

Sibs name posted alredy check da smallfry lore tag! Sib helped me wit these btw! Theres a LOT

Chevy calls The Captain stinke but for Salmo das a good thing! Captain is Strong Smelled King, Battle Warrior Of The Squidbeak Splatoon! Also we call evryone King even if there not a boy bc ekwality

Music is also super duper impourtent to Salmon so music people get longer names sometimes!

Miss Callie is Hopeful Joy Song, Omega Roller King Of The Squidbeak Splatoon! shes always realy hapy and shes nice and shes super strong :> i like miss Callie a lot.

Miss Marie is Shaded Heart, Omega Sharpeyed King Of The Squidbeak Splatoon! Cause shes cool as the shade and cares about evrybody even if she doesnt show us! Also she has crazy aim an she makes me nervous when she has a big splatgun 👀💧

The really old Inkling Captain knows doesnt like me so he doesnt like the name i gave himb :< but its Grizzled Wisdom Giver of the Squidbeak Splatoon. Sucks too cause wise fish very impourtent to Salmo fightin groups! How else do we win??

Polaris (4) likes their name tho >:> is Many-legged Zapfish Warrior, Defending Fang of The Squidbeak Splatoon. Lari said it "sounds tuff".

Oracle (8) said her name sounds "funy" but das jus cause they never had a name given to her out of love :< Chevy told me they didnt have a good life before us so i have her a good name! Theirs is Eight legged Underground Champion, Savior Of Life of the Squidbeak Splatoon! Ora deserve good things >:<

The lil pink shortie with the cute hat who hangs out with Ora does good music so she got good name too. Omega Master Of Ceremonies, Roaring Slayer of Inkopolis. Shes cool >:>

Then the realy tall green prety one also makes good music too and shes an octo like Chev! Omega Disk Jockey, Brilliant Peacebringer of Inkopolis. Shes nice :>

Chevy named the next 3 allllll by themself and becaws they do music, they got longer names too

The blue octo is Cold-Blooded Bandit, Steely-Eye Omega Shark Rider of Splatsville

The yellow Inkling was Sizzling-Hot Gangster, Electric-Heart Omega Eel Tamer of Splatsville

Then the big one! The Hype Manta Storm, Omega Speeding Dancer of Splatsville.

I think thats everyone....

I know other people to tho but you dont yet!

[boricuacherry-blog]

It took the Doors drummer, John Densmore, three years to visit the grave of his bandmate Jim Morrison

after he was found dead in a Paris bathtub in 1971. He didn't even go to the funeral. "Did I hate Jim?" Densmore pauses, although he is not obviously alarmed by the question. "No. I hated his self-destruction...he was a kamikaze who went out at 27 - what can I say?"

From the early 2000s, Densmore was embroiled in a vicious six-year legal battle with fellow band members Ray Manzarek and Robby Krieger, in which Densmore tried to stop them from touring under the Doors name as well as selling the band's music for use on a Cadillac commercial. "I know. I sued my bandmates - am I CRAZY?!" he yells. People certainly thought he was. It is not usual to spend years in court trying to stop yourself from earning millions of dollars to prove a point about the value of artistic integrity over the pursuit of money. "What can I say? Jim's ghost is behind me all the time," Densmore says. "My knees were shaking pretty strong when they upped the offer of $5m to $15m. But my head was saying: Break on Through for a gas-guzzling SUV? No!"

Manzarek and Krieger's lawyers tried to paint Densmore as a dangerous communist - even citing a piece he wrote that was published in the Guardian as evidence for this - but eventually, and spectacularly, he won. He wrote a book about the case, published in 2013, and donated the profits to the Occupy movement. "Money is like fertiliser," he says. "When spread around, things grow; when it's hoarded, it stinks."

Densmore is fluent in the language of the 60s elder: on the one hand, he talks of peace rainbows and pots of gold filled with love, despairing at the rise of "separatists and populists and borderline racists" running the U.S. On the other, he displays an almost chilling pragmatism about life and death, not uncommon among musicians of his generation, who lost so many friends to the era's excesses.

"I interviewed Tom Petty a few months before he died," he says quietly, when the topic is brought up. The pair became friends during the court case - Petty's song Money Becomes King, about a singer he once idolized who was selling his songs for a light beer advert, struck home with Densmore. "He had trouble with his hip. I guess he was taking painkillers and brown powder, too. Damn it..." he breathes deeply. "I just ache losing him." He pauses. "Maybe it's more noble to die in a friggin' hospital with a bunch of tubes up your arm. I mean, it sounds horrible, but at least you rode the train all the way to the end - you never checked out early."

Like many alcoholics, Morrison could be reckless, selfish and mercurial. "The Dionysian madman," Densmore called him - a "psychopath," a "lunatic," and "the voice that struck terror in me."

He had lobbied to get Morrison off the road before his death. "I was like, so what if we have one less album? Maybe he'll live?" Densmore is a defiant survivor of the music scene he helped build. This, perhaps, is why, in the decades since Morrison's death, he has become not only one of the great chroniclers of the Doors, but the fiercest protector of Morrison's legacy. To anyone who has read Densmore's 1990 memoir - a book he says was "written in blood" - this may come as a surprise; later the book would form the basis for Oliver Stone's (dreadful) Doors biopic. "It took me years to forgive Jim," Densmore says. "And now I miss him so much for his artistry."

Doors keyboardist, Ray Manzarek, didn't have a smooth relationship with Densmore either. As to how Densmore met Morrison,

But as he toured the world with the Doors, Densmore's family life became more unsteady. His brother had several stints in a psychiatric hospital. He describes going to visit him, finding him heavily sedated, and wondering how sleeping for 17 hours a day could possibly help his schizophrenia - a point that will be familiar even now to anyone who has had to endure acute mental illness. His brother killed himself in 1978. He was also called Jim; he also died at the age of 27. Densmore later wrote that he struggled handling sharp objects after his brother's suicide. "I thought that if I did it, too, it would somehow make it better - atone for not saving him."

[assorted-sekai-projects]

⛔️✅🎶

For the fic writing ask game

🍊Mod Orange speaking

⛔️: Something I try to avoid in my writing - Content-wise, anything sexually explicit. Even if I wasn't writing mostly about teenage characters (and I do have plans to extend my writing beyond the projects just on this blog), I have a bit of a bad history with stumbling my way down those rabbit holes when I was younger. I let myself make hints and jokes, though.

Regarding my writing technique, I get a little too hyper-vigilant about making sure my sentences don't have similar structure. I see myself write a whole paragraph that's just entirely "sentence part 1 - comma - part 2" and i agonize over how to make it feel more interesting to physically read, even if the flow of each individual sentence is perfectly fine and messing with one of them makes it a little bit individually worse.

✅️: Favorite line(s) and explanation - fuck, this is a hard one. Most of my favorite single dramatic lines have a paragraph of wind-up into a final moment of impact or call back to something anywhere from a few paragraphs to a chapter or two before, and I don't know if that counts. I suppose I'll pick out one of those as well as a quick, punchy one-liner from a more comedic moment.

But her cry for help comes out as an animalistic howl, something too easily confused with a battle cry. Her father starts flailing his arms wildly, letting out a battle cry of his own; scattered screams pound her ears, and the same gentle man who told her that she was strong enough to do anything she wanted in life is trying to make himself seem like the most threatening thing in the world.

Minori staggers back, looking at her mother’s face instead. It’s filled with terror as her eyes dart between Minori and something behind her. She turns to follow her mother’s gaze, and realises she’s put herself between the two of them and her brother.

They don’t recognize her. They don’t trust her. 

They don’t want her here.

This is one of the lines I really like from my werewolf fic, Adoption // Infection. It’s the final moment of high-emotion impact after Minori's first transformation as a werewolf in chapter 3. before this, she goes through the physical horror of transforming from human to wolf and the self-reflective horror of realizing she can't recognize herself and she feels less than human as a result. This little bit at the end where she experiences the social horror of being shunned once she's perceived as a threat. It's like a combo meal at a burger joint, but every part of the meal is a gut punch. I love the hurt half of hurt/comfort, and this sets the tone leading into the next part of the chapter where she finds a little bit of community for herself.

“Woah, I’m more lightheaded than I thought. Can we stop by the vending machines so I can re-up my blood sugar?”

“I don’t think any amount of sugar could help with the way it tastes, but sure.”

"Hey!"

This little blip is the button at the end of a chapter where a vampire drinks blood from someone, and it tastes like hot garbage instead of normal blood. In that fic, Your Love is a Drug, I've really enjoyed setting up little expectations with the urban fantasy stuff, or even just normal writing beats, and turning them upside down.

🎶: Do you write with music, and does that influence your writing - Sometimes I put on music when I'm writing, just to keep my brain stimulated and pushing to do something, but I try not to let the music influence my writing all that much. If my shuffle rolls up with a song where I have thoughts about unrelated characters, it gets a little distracted, so I guess that counts? I haven't written much that really fits with the particular songs I have character thoughts about, and my disdain for putting a single song on loop overpowers my brainrot, so I probably won't do it even when I get around to those story beats.

[libidomechanica]

I brake and half

And clown: perhaps the isle of amethyst,—would stirr’d     while I was dizzy and doing back within array’d in Intellectual giant,     Arac, rolled adieu,—farewel, and thus bent to delay, and many a sweet the old     Pacha sits ample, feverish he would learn if I lie down the sky. If you this mother,     I must hammers pryde, with a gentle

peace to every cloudes wexen old and does     not the Dead, transgression-—swung the came upon the deil a ane wad speir your missioned     gaze what is more slow perhaps he ought we Diggon. Flies with ill-usage, was Ida watch     a dove trembling done, I’ll pelt. Though reeds— in desolate, or leaps in among his flames, and     now so yes the squatted hare when while

we must rear ourselves a lass before us laugh     and I am blows the wood would given admires such is not miss his sons such into    ��shame on me so least suited not fooles, which Hamlet tell. Since they, like awe, the child of     Murder’d upon the rest may win perhaps might noise at all. How like those worthy of conquest     and creeks, hallways—perhaps from fiction,

and the greedy help as words, and silver soundly     sleeping, eye-earnest lump of clay, with display? And even the other let it be     said, Art thou a tear has been the thing in that my glory on: what they course that moment     more wont to chace that suspicious as true portion will continue pure; the old kings! On     a little friends, their father mother

pure smooth as any I have plunder, father’s finger’s     pocketbook. You have I could still saw the shadow of the dance and in the cast down     the ditty. I wote ne Hobbinol, all reprieve’s too cruel breathless region whene’er     did fall have deemed with hoary frost I fynde: tho would barke and hold they stept into its country     swaines may we stept into weete

what? Its fancifullest shade vnder foote in his purple     stain’d to win mee, of all the nights that drains, our friends are lost in the stars; her sex, and     demigods are gone agree: what this life’s as from the snow upon the blooming down sweeter     music swims back and sleep without most him, he had behaviour. With rumour hands forlorn,     from of that sleep on which they dispute

with teares doth it eternity! A     disguises, all loll around a name most later is to the enchased crocodile, or     aspirin. The boy besides, so pure if yet to my own. As messenger, here I find its     drew, and desponds,—as if nursed my storm: has found him: but less obscured seemed a bore. My shepherds     call. Intellectual Light for

my pupil pen, neither sides, that Firmán-issuing     not my winning weeds, and then to his pipe’s ambrosial gales, are lost bridal year, I’ll     tell me fightingale is the cause? And their voice, whose flowe, of mine is so meeke, wise, and     Sommer by with God and mounts the deep, Boys! The book argument, curling delights are alas     is the last, when I was forced for

the bar and times a scent of readiest was as right     have looks back from the man thunder, midst thee what weave the scaled, founde? She gaze what mistress shout     there she had, indeed, locks do feed her sleep with the burden of the Prince, what he wounded     in, and twitch’d at his laureat hunt: but pure and someone mile uphill to die ere I note,     and shops, a things at his hair blood and

elusive shadow of a peacock, sits ample     from soddein forest brutal yells the horses be; which she talent air, an’ a’ the vines     to build some, in their own couch, new made in such pleasure. To melting the middle, I shall     not loathe third, and thee. And, Prince dead shall I doe? Pennies sewn into each other, through they     battle with all she heaven! Which erst

from their cherry. A red rose that I have joys upon     my throat like to loue! Whom thine own break her: strong; and Knowledge in with and be my song,     my woolly hole into my age now tak’ my advice: your chained margin of immense and     the laugh to shed, over there shepheards boyes your leaves, the poem which thy flocks into a     fly. With a cry as if a shipwrecked

at! Reels, and I’ll tell you need. As from everybody     yet the mountains beguile, so as scarce evening-star, alike, those who still, accords     need wise man’s abhorrence. Softly said you a though new-found thee with dark for he wasted,     and eke had be better to sings bent my faith. All Muse of summer when I see but for     simple verse. Then old snows, perhaps from

ferule and died as if with no specially if     tis too hard, thus were longer station, while I am beloved where shepecote, and     bind, deeming gore: there in the thing, patching, with heede and set you are rather an’ a’ should     bide by the other darting spirits nest-door, to be shine with quick with the blessed flocks, but     bravely rubbing seal close of the bloody

rest. That flowrd my ioyfull verse. I brake and half     as good to revealed, besides, cloudiness, unshapeliest bubbles gainst the wide oppen     to wag through cleare, now called token or forbid? And as, in the avenger, execrates     his heel seized fast. Make rule were embrac’d. A person seemingly hour gave to see him     power, in love the same to painted

at Netherlands are but she was not a stones in     emphasis, she cankering round in the twilight wait for all be hamburg. When they scarcely     can hurt and come nae unless the hair. In little suits wind shifting of the night, till     have might but this old snows melt from age at last age showers budders a novel sense, as     perhaps from the truth, she came not see,

your waking safety, which love’s fruite orders of     theology in begging his sleep has ended, where is the young; and heroes, when I feel     the shepheards, the reeleth fresh winds clear the forest wyde, waile we lives dear dead: she nor     envy and day, and ivy banks; all lay it down in every vulgarest hovel dirt     on her myriad year, I’ll come to

ye, my Lucasia, since we loser than thunderstood     on the longer liue, ah why liue we say, whote collection, know: yet, in time before.     When a’ was darkened ways my very cheek, in the leave to toll gate institution of     the Lost Soul to all the prince and merry hae I to take him who hurrying up, a     cradle she did ioy among, is friends.

[larperwithastaff]

Analysing My Own PC's Playlist. Because I Can.

This is Nina's entire general playlist! This isn't in any order, and has existed through several iterations of Nina's character.

I'll talk about Nina's backstory coherently one day. For now, this is a lore-heavy list with captions.

Long Post o7

1. When The War Is Over - Grayson Matthews

Yes, it's a The Next Step song. But It Works. It's very dark elf. It can go back to Xen'Khari's backstory, it can be linked to Nina's backstory. It's a haunting song that connects to Nina's naivety and being too trusting.

2. Starfall - Tia Ray

Honkai Impact 3rd once again making me bawl my eyes out for Kiana. This was added when Nina's backstory was very different to what it is now. Originally she was an ex-bard on the run from people who blackmailed her. Now she's a rescued student mage who's a little too willing to get into a fight (for good reasons, of course)

3. Ryuusei (Comet) - Eir Aoi

Right in the heart with this one. Nina's entire sunshine-y personality stems from repressed trauma and not wanting to remember her past. The song mentions "not being able to smile properly"/"Loneliness is painful, and kindness feels so sad, yet this place is so precious to me". Nina's front is put on every day, and most days she's fully convinced herself that it's natural, but sometimes the facade falters, and how she really feels sneaks through. Though what Nina's experienced is incredibly tragic, she still pulls through, and creates these connections around her, creating memories to replace the ones she's buried.

4. Pompeii - Bastille

The (redacted Xen'Khari lore,, probably, I don't know yet), Nina's past, her parents being killed ("Basic Rogue Backstory" - Hav'Ranii's player), repressing memories, this entire song has such strong Nina energy, it was a no-brainer to put it on here.

5. Star Divine - Starlight Kukugumi

Before my home game's magic system got an overhaul, this was one of the first chants I had! The old system had (only) healing magic, sing a 30-second chant and you could revive a person to full hp. The system is significantly more complicated now, but it's expanding to include more types of magic, so mostly no complaints.

6. When You're An Addams - Addams Family Musical

BIG XEN'KHARI ENERGY. "You gotta have a little moonlight"/"you need to feel a little chill" and "You smile a bit the moment you smell blood" "It's family first and family last, and family by and by!". We're a warhammer-esque dark elf warband, it just Works.

7. Take Aim - Derivakat

Added because this song feels like what a friday night fight feels like. The wind whistling in your ears, the excitement of the battle, running across the huge field into a fight. It has energy of a group fight, but also the energy of just how feral Nina gets in a fight. I want to write a CMV to this for Xen'Khari, I think it could be really cool!

8. Hokori to Ogori (Pride and Arrogance) - Starlight Kukugumi

Another old chant. I took Maya's verse at the end, although sheer embarrassment kept me from singing this one too often.

9. Sugar Song To Bitter Step - BriCie

This! Song! Is! Nina! I wish it was longer because it encapsulates Nina's vibe so So well. I'm always dancing in my seat whenever this starts playing, I made choreography for it when I was in middle school, and I only remember scraps of it, but it's still important to me. Yet another CMV I want to write, but Nina-centric.

10. The Call - Regina Spector

This song is so So special to me, but a rant for a different time. The first verse and chorus I relate back to Xen'Khari's story. 2nd verse is Nina's backstory specifically, progressing from her past to the present with more redacted lore. The final 2 verses make me think of the present day/progressing to the future. Nina's a complex (or i hope i write her well enough to be complex) character, and i want to play her as such. Things will happen that'll trigger memories to come back, and Nina will slowly become who she was originally, different parts of herself will come back together and form a cohesive person.

11. Come With Me - Chxrlotte

If Nina was to sing a song, it would be Come With Me. It's not even lore relevant, I just feel like Nina would sing/dance around to this song. No real routine in mind, just going with the music.

12. It's Tough To Be A God - Annapantsu/Elsie Lovelock

Another warband member mentioned Nina bring a goddess of "Healing, hunting and shins... oh, and also extreme violence." Once, and i took that comment and Ran with it. I've got a whole costume in mind, audios saved for clock app, etc. Not my focus for costumes at the moment, but an idea for the future. A funky little AU for when I have money time for costumes I can't wear on field.

13. Machine Gun - KIRA

Nina Going Feral❤ if a fancam of Nina in battle existed, the final bridge would be the background music. This song is so Good.

14. The Spider and the Lamps - Razia's Shadow

If Hav'Ranii and Nina had a theme song, I feel like this would be it. The song (in Razia's Shadow) tells the story of a spider named Barayas manipulating the lead of Act 1, Ahrima, into destroying lamps created by himself and others (Razia's is,, a confusing show). I've wanted to choreograph a ballet routine to this for a couple years now, sadly I am not skilled in the ballet area of dance. I imagine the song along the lines of Hav'Ranii manipulating Nina into doing their work for them, really making Nina distrust certain people. I have a draft on tiktok with it, sitting, waiting to be edited. I could not be assed. One day, though.

15. Ballroom of Romance - Celtic Women

Again just Nina dancing to a song. I feel like if a ball ever did happen, Nina would be absolutely beside herself with excitement. If she had any tasks to do, she'd be so distracted by dancing, talking to friends, trying to write down happy memories in her notebook that she'd be delayed on completing them unless someone reigned her in.

16. READY!! - IDOLMASTER 765PRO ALLSTARS

I love imas, it holds a special place in my heart. READY!! Is less in-character and more for me personally. Getting ready for larp, getting in character, the challenges that come along with the game, etc. Also I like the dance.

17. Sweet Witches' Night - Cinderella Girls

Again, just Vibes. Nina being a little unhinged with magic. I know the song is supposed to be sweet with creepy undertones (watch the starlight stage animation. what the fu-) but I'm just imagining Nina doing this little ballet dance and at one point, the lighting switches, and the rest of the song is just a Liiitle weird. A little off-putting.

18. Halloween❤Code - Cinderella Girls

Pure vibes. Nina's personality but make it Halloween. It's such a cute song, it just fits.

19. Cabo - Ricky Montgomery

"Ashes, ashes, dust to dust, I think I found the place for us! It's down by the Garden after dark. It's in my arms, it's in my arms..." I know this is a (romantic) love song, but I am chosing to ignore that and imagine the chorus as found family. Feelings of safety in camp, surrounded by the people who saved her from what probably would've been certain death, if Nina had stayed behind much longer after her parents were killed.

20. HONEY - Derivakat

Another contender for Nina's character song. A bouncy, energetic song that makes you want to dance! This song is just happy stims but made into music. Like if you wanted a way to show people Nina before they meet her, just show them this song.

Aaand that's it! I ended up clearing a few songs that really didn't fit Nina anymore, so it was a good opportunity to clean up the playlist. I have 2 (technically 3) other Nina-related playlists, but both have less than 5 songs in them. If I decide to do this again, I'll probably combine both into one post.

If you made it through to the end of my infodump, thanks for reading! Hopefully there's a song or two up there that you want to check out!

It is now 3:30am. I have work tonight. I need sleep. Goodnight nerds. /pos

[imhereforscm]

You are so lucky that you live in Greece. It's such a beautiful country with beautiful culture, monuments and beaches. I wish i could live in Greece or atleast visit Greece. 😔

Aaww, that message was so touching for me🥺❣️❣️ I love my country, so I'm so proud when people appreciate it too.

I'm just really sad, because just like you said, Greece has beautiful beaches, beautiful monuments and culture, but a lot of the people these days are terrible.

Of course there as still really lovely people, but let's just say the latest generation is... Terrible...

80% of them smoke HEAVY weed, drink heavily from a young age, disrespect the environment and listen to terrible and I mean SHITTY music!!🤢🤢 I'm not a person who hates on music, because even if one certain song is not for me, it makes someone else happy and I don't want to ruin it for them by dragging it through the mud. BUT HECK, I'M GONNA DRAG THIS MUSIC THROUGH THE MUD, BECAUSE IT'S NOT EVEN MUSIC! IT'S SO TERRIBLE! It's called "trap" and basically all ""songs"" under this category are just some guy talking about his riches (which he doesn't have), about drugs and how he wants to fuck every woman and is basically borderline degrading them.

Also, many people don't care about our culture and even say we should stop learning about it.

Ancient Greeks were some of the smartest people that have walked upon this earth and we get to be descendants of these people and that is something that gives me shivers and makes me so so proud every time I think of it.

So it pains to hear all those ignorant idiots trashing this endless wisdom those wise people left for us. We live in a time, where people, the very own people who have the blood of those admirable people from our history running in their body, come across our monuments and call them "rocks" and "unnecessary".

But on the bright side, there are still lots and lots of people who love our culture, read about our mythology, shiver at the words of wisdom from the older and the wise, have good music taste and are lovely people to be around. So that gives me hope.

I hope one day you will be able to make your dream a reality and I believe in you!!💕❣️💕❣️💝❣️💕❣️💝❣️💕

And if I have something to promise you about Greece (aside from all the wonderful things you've already listed) is the ✨food✨. I'm not implying that Greece has the best foods in the globe, each country has its own delicious foods, but if you decide to visit Greece at any moment, know you won't be hungry.

Also, something I love about my country and its people is that we're so lively. When we have fun, we have fun. We listen to music—good music, dance, laugh loudly, yell loudly whenever we see another Greek in a foreign country and we're really welcoming to anyone who also treats us kindly. (Of course, Greece, just like every other country, has its fair share of disgusting people, but I assure you, there are wonderful ones too, they just get pushed aside by the bad and get their voices hushed at times) Basically, we're people who have as our main goal to live our lives to the fullest and even through hardships, we're not giving up, but instead face everything with a strong heart, ready to dance through the flames, like we've done so many times even in wars and battles.

Love you sweetie!!💝💕💝💕💕💝💝

[timelostobserver]

[ @astra-stellaris ] - Astra, the Pale-Moon Dancer

It took a lot for Hades not to at least give the smallest chuckle to Kokushibo. He could tell the one that held themselves as an ancient samurai was not quite.. well.. 'feeling' western clothing. And that was fine. If anything, it was just for the moment, to indulge in a little bit of culture different from their own.

Hades didn't expect his fellow Kizuki to care for it, nor did he want them to. At the very least, it was to let their master have this moment. To live, to be, to be able to do as he wished without threat.

It was the least he could do for Muzan, after he allowed him and Astra to do just that very thing. They were free of the very last shackle of their human life. Free to move forward.

And he'd, at the very least, be making the most of it. Channeling his vindication, his hated, his rage now to another source.

"Quite easily. But yes, it's the same game Astra has played with you before. Poker. There is also one called 'Blackjack' where the goal is to get to a total card sum of twenty-one, never over and still be higher than what the dealer has." Suffice to say, Hades nodded with a smile at Muzan's observation.

"You two would excel in it, honestly. An indifference of emotion is key to freaking your opponents out. Poker is as much a numbers and matching game, as it is a battle of psychological means. Causing your opponents to fold if they fear you have a winning hand over them through bluffing." He explained the best he could. He'd indulged in it himself from time to time, especially with Astra in moments where they had little to do but wait.

Especially in the months leading to the moment that the spider lily bloomed. Where tension was high, people were antsy.. but they had to keep their wits about them.

But even Hades had to agree, no to the machines. Even if he hid his ears in his human form, ad demons.. well.. their hearing would be overwhelmed by the bells and like humans could easily drown out.

"I agree.. At least most places here keep the lights dim. Though for us it'll be as bright as day." Which would mean they could see their victims far easier in these places.

But mulling over at the theater was a welcome reprieve. The many plays that were aimed to start for the night and also people getting their tickets for tomorrow night. Hades would nod to Kokushibo, however.

"I agree.. There's a beauty in performing arts. They had some, similar, when Astra and I were in London. Each region of the world seems to have their own interpretation." Still, five tickets. so all five of them would be attending. He knew what Muzan was doing.

He wanted to test her limits. Just like he had with Hades, and no doubt the demons he directly kept an eye on. It made him wonder how he pushed Kokushibo.. or even still pushed the other. It made sense though, pushing forward is what made a demon strong...

Hades also had his limits, though they were more along the line of combat. And the more he used his art, the harder his own hunger was to control. Especially with how.. picky his taste had become. A disadvantage to being fed exclusively marechi blood and flesh. Normal humans couldn't cut it for Upper Moon Two...

"You're doing an impeccable job though, Muzan-sama." Learning another language was rough already. Though he figured it was due to his master's multiple minds that he took so quickly to it. But he did switch back to Japanese.. mainly in-case any humans wanted to listen in on them.

"Places here have multiple names. Depending on what local you asked. Saloons, bars, gambling halls, taverns... But they all are quite similar. Just the theming inside shifts." He motioned to an alleyway leading behind the threater.

"There one is connected to the theater group in the back alley, hidden from sight from the normal riff-raff. Attracts a lot of rich folks too. So they also have live music playing here. Which means.. easy distractions for us." Though Hades did have to admit.. the glint his his eyes.. And even he was having trouble keeping his fangs hidden.

Muzan was right.

He was starving. He'd overused his blood art the other night, and now was feeling that blood-lust rising in him. He'd been so focused on Astra that he pushed it down for so long. And now it wanted out.

"Doesn't help that there are far more marechi in this city compared to Japan, alone. It's far denser with humans.." He glanced to Kokushibo and sighed but chuckled.

"I know.. I know. Normally the older sibling is supposed to be the worry wart.. But here I am, doing just that." His shoulders relaxed and he nodded to Kokushibo. Hades understood the gesture still.

For now, he'd take them to the bar that was attached to the threatre in the back alley. It wasn't incredibly busy, but enough that if they picked a few people out from the crowd and ate them.. no one would notice. Alcohol was indeed flowing in this place, a jazz band on the small stage playing a slightly upbeat but mellow tune, and they could easily find a place to settle and sit down to plan out their next move.

It was a fantastic hunting ground, tucked away, just loud enough to muffle any warning screams.. and dim enough for humans to have their sight muddled.

( @timelostobserver ) »» — Hades [The Time Keeper]

[ ― Western clothes were something of an enigma for him but he quite enjoyed them. Kokushibo.. did not. Even if he were well-dressed there was a sense of... unease... about it. He still carried his sword but didn't exactly have the necessary belt to, so he just carried it in his hand. The eyes disappeared into his face and overall... he looked quite like his human self.

Muzan really didn't have to make any changes.

❝I think trying everything might be beneficial to us,❞ Muzan said, ❝Living a different way will teach us new things.❞ Muzan always looked for something like that. The excuse to live, rather than run and hide but he rarely got the chance to. He still worried that something would happen, of course, but... it was a more relaxed atmosphere in America. Things that were taboo at home certainly weren't there. The society in and of itself would be fun to study... if he could overcome his fear of stepping out of what he'd known for eight hundred years.

❝Card games.❞ Muzan's eyebrow tilted. ❝Kokushibo could look at the card and tell me and between the three of us... we could clean them out. Is this the same one that Astra enjoys playing? She's very good at gambling in general.❞ Poker sounded familiar -- he heard her mention it a few times. Ah, wasn't the saying, ❝People have... poker... faces?❞ Like himself or Kokushibo? Very little expression and hard to read, she explained. But being able to play the game was going to be fun, at the very least. And if they won money... well, too bad for the humans.

It really wasn't fair to them.

❝..No slot machines. The lights are... bright enough on... their own..❞ Kokushibo's eyes narrowed for a moment. Having both of them -- the lights and the noises would be overstimulating. And while he was very good at dealing with the things that bothered him.. America was proving to be something that he never thought would exist. Already, he was on his guard and cautious even if he knew nothing could hurt them. Unlike Muzan, he wasn't taking the societal change very well.

He was a traditional samurai.

❝So it is... similar to nogaku... ❞ A theatre of performing arts, ❝That... is acceptable.❞ That was the best one out of all of them, he supposed. ❝We should watch it.❞ A Midsummer Night's Dream. An interesting name, for sure...

When they left, Muzan followed behind Hades, watching everything while Kokushibo's eyes seemed to scan and then move away from the brighter lights. It wasn't that it hurt him -- it just made it incredibly hard to see anything else. It was rather like looking at Muzan-sama for any length of time. Glorious but something that he wouldn't be able to do very often.

Muzan read over the listings--

but rather than have Hades order for him he took matters into his own hands and his english rolled off his tongue with a familiarity of consistent practice. ❝I would like.. five tickets to a Midsummer Night's Dream... tomorrow night, and then...❞ The tickets were acquired and placed in his pockets -- there were enough for them... Astra... and Atreus to attend, if he so wished. Truly, he wanted to test the limits of Astra's control and the best way to do that would be to put her in a room full of humans.

Everyone had limits.

He wanted to find hers.

He did it with every demon that came across him -- she would be treated no differently.

❝Everyone speaks quicker than I'm used to,❞ he finally told Hades, ❝But it's not a bad thing. The tonality is much different and that's what I struggle with.❞ The pitch raising to denote a question and that type of thing.

❝Let's... go back to that... what did you call it -- where they have all the gambling and the smoke and -- humans?❞ He was speaking japanese again -- he didn't want his quarry finding out he was plotting their downfall, after all. ❝You look as if you're going to jump at someone in any moment. Come, let's make sure you eat properly... and then we can continue with our plans for the evening.❞ He patted his shoulder a few times. As it was, Astra could stand to wait a few hours and she didn't exactly need a minder. If she were able to walk through a room, she would be able to sleep.

❝Do not worry about your sister,❞ Kokushibo seemed to be thinking something similar, ❝She's strong enough.❞ He nudged him with his sword, as if that would do very much. ❝We're to relax... and eat. You worry too much.❞― ]

[waitimcomingtoo]

Peter Parker Masterlist Continued

Into the Multiverse….

part two

You accidentally get sent to another dimension and need the help of a Peter variant

Pants on Fire

You bump into a Peter during a class field trip after Flash tells the class Peter is lying about your relationship

Toothpaste

Peter tries to get you to stop avoiding him after he overhears you telling Morgan that you like him

Just You and Me

Peter stays with you after you get hurt during a fight with the Green Goblin

Honey

Peter tells you about the memory spell and then finds you after it’s cast

Rogers: The Musical

Things get awkward when Rogers The Musical takes some creative liberties

Dos Oruguitas

Peter becomes a regular at your coffee shop and convinces himself you’re starting to remember him

No Other Shade Of Blue But You

Three years after the events of NWH, Peter moves in as your roommate with benefits. You’re ready for a relationship but he’s still traumatized

Colors

Part two

Deaf!peter Parker x popular reader

Sweet Escape

After being rescued from the red room, you try to adjust to a normal life as an ex-widow

Look After You

After Peter snaps at you, you feel like you can’t call him for help

Always Have and Never Hold

Black cat!reader

You forget Peter after the spell, but you don’t forget Spiderman

Tongue Tied - Series

a cover up lie leads the team to believe you and Peter are sleeping together

And I Would’ve Gotten Away With It Too

May always catches you and Peter in the act but you lie your way out of it. Or so you think

Malevolent As I’ve Ever Been

Venom!reader in scenes from no way home

Baby, Baby, Baby

Strong feelings come up when you and Peter get paired together to look after a robotic baby for your Sex Ed class

You Wear Those Shoes and I Will Wear That Dress

Peter accidentally kisses you goodbye and gets embarrassed

Daddy

Peter Parker x Hotchner!reader

Your dad, Aaron Hotchner, wants to meet your boyfriend Peter

Mommy?

Peter realizes he has a bit of a mommy kink

Without Love

Deaf!Peter Parker x reader

You contract hanahaki disease and have to stay away from Peter but you can’t tell him why

Stolen Moments

you reveal your secret relationship when Peter returns from a mission bruised and bloody

And Everything Just Stops

you go to Peters apartment for comfort after getting stood up on a date and more than one secret gets revealed

Come And Rest Your Bones With Me

Maximoff!Reader

Wanda and Tony play matchmaker for you and Peter

Her Perfumes Holding Me Ransom

You get a new perfume that makes Peter extra clingy

Beneath the Surface

During a pool party with the team, your bathing suit makes it hard for Peter to focus

Bleeding Love

You always patch Peter up despite your fear of blood

Hot In Here

You are Peter are on opposing sides at the battle at the airport

Haunted

You move into a new apartment and meet a strange new boy

You Belong With Me

Peter is used to you getting out at work so when a girl asks him out, he plays it up to make you jealous

I’ll See You When I Fall Asleep

When you get kidnapped on a mission, Peter is the only one who believes you’re in danger

Some Light Voyeurism

You’re mean and Peter likes that, so he stalks you while you’re on a date

A Sweet Boy Like Me

Peter accidentally gets hit with a truth serum on a mission and tells you more then he means to

Bitten

Vampire!peter Parker

You spend an evening with a vampire

Once More To See You

You search the multiverse in vain for Peter

Joke Me Something Awful Just Like Kisses On the Necks of Best Friends

Peter deals with the aftermath of kissing his best friend

The Great War

Peters double life causes serious strain on your relationship

Burnt Face and Second Base

Peter can’t stop hurting his crush

Question…?

Peter accidentally sends you mixed signals when he kisses you and then doesn’t show up for your date

This Ain’t a Scene, it’s a God Damn Arms Race

Peter picks up on the fact that you have a thing for his arms and uses it to his advantage

Kept Me Like A Secret When I Kept You Like An Oath

Peter Parker x stark!reader

Tony find out you and Peter have been dating behind his back and comes up with a lie to keep you apart

Your Pain Fits In the Palm of My Freezing Hand

When Peter learns you have healing powers, he starts faking injuries to come see you until he gets seriously injured

Daughters Will Love Like You Do

Peter Parker x stark!reader

Take A Hint

No matter how many times Peter tries to ask you out, you never take the hint

Bringing Sexy Back

Peter tries and fails to seduce you

Player

Peter comforts you after you get played

Interception

Peter worries you’ll kiss someone else at a kissing party

You Never Called It What It Was

You and Peter are friends with benefits who won’t admit you want more until Peter gets hurts on a mission

Dick’s

The only good part of your job at Dick’s sporting goods is how often Peter comes in to buy repairs for his suit

I Can See You

Happy Hogans daughter x reader

Happy forbids Peter from dating you, only making him want to do it

Rumor Has It

Peter heard a rumor that you’re pregnant

Wasn’t Me

Stark!reader

Vision catches you and Peter and you try to keep him from telling everyone that you’re dating

Two Normal Arms

When Peter breaks his arm and realizes you’re paying more attention to him, he drags it out

A Film By Peter Parker

Peter starts making videos again when you guys start hanging out

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

You think you’re pregnant and tell Peter

And I’ve Been Meaning To Tell You

You overhear Peter saying he doesn’t like you back so you go out with another guy, only to have him crash the date

How do I get you alone?

Part two

Stark!reader

You and Peter kiss during an earthquake

Just To Learn That You Never Cared

People think you and Peter are dating since you’re always sneaking off to do superhero stuff and you let them believe it

Smell Ya Later

You get a new body cream that attracts spiders, and someone else

The Script

You break up once you find out Peters secret and he tries to get you back

Meet Me Behind the Mall

You spend the day with peter after your friends ditch you

This Means War

Peter and his crush on you are threatened when your childhood friend Harley Keener comes to visit and clearly has feelings for you

The Way That You Were

Frat!Peter Parker

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Enemies to lovers

Peter attempts to cheer you up after your friends ditch you on your birthday

Uranus

You stay up to fix Peter’s science project while he’s on a date with another girl

Built a Fire Just To Keep Me Warm

You and Peter never got along but that doesn’t stop him from trying to keep you warm

Never Been Kissed - Series

Bad Romance - Series

Part Of Your World -series

hoax ~ series