#What if I told you his Ancestor is still alive?

[faerielandtrolls]

Do you know anything about your ancestor, The Capacitor, Shrane? You have any interest in knowing about your ancestor, or does that stuff not interest you much?

"Truth be told... t-there isn't a lot on him that I can find... I-I tried searching once, but most of the record was redacted... Sure I've been curious, but I don't have high enough clearance to see the non-scrubbed versions of the records.... A-and I don't want to be reprimanded again for trying to look..."

"I can't help but wonder... what did my ancestor do to have their record so thoroughly cleared? There were only 4 words on the version I saw that weren't blacked out--- The Capacitor... Highly Volatile..."

"What else could there be?"

[mylight-png]

I refuse to be told to "move on" from October 7th. I simply refuse.

You know the thing about trauma? You don't really get the choice to move on. You may be living in the future, but at least a part of your mind is trapped in that horrible moment. Sometimes that part of you can never escape.

Right now, as I'm writing this, I am sitting at my desk in my room. But right now, as I am writing this a part, huge part, of me is still in that airport. That part of me is still staring at my phone, trying to catch its breath but failing. That part of me is still watching in shock as the death count rises, the videos of Hamas's atrocities are broadcasted everywhere I see, the celebration of my people being massacred is burning my eyes. My ears are hearing the wailing sirens from when I was last in Israel. My hands are still feeling the shaking of the walls as the Iron Dome intercepts attempts upon the lives of my family and me. My heart is hurting for each life lost and each family left broken.

My body is here, in January 10th. My mind is not. My mind, and the mind of nearly every Jew is still stuck in October 7th.

Do not think we chose this. If I could choose indifference, if I could choose apathy, if I could choose ignorance, I wouldn't feel so constantly triggered and in pain.

But nobody gets to choose trauma.

This wasn't a unique trauma, a first-time event. Pogroms are nothing new to us, genocides and attempts at such against us aren't anything new, hateful libel and lies are near-constants.

That's part of what made October 7th so much worse.

I grew up hearing about how my great-grandfather lost his entire family to the Holocaust, how my ancestors survived pogroms, how my parents faced systemic antisemitism in the USSR.

We all grew up hearing our parents and grandparents tell us about antisemitism.

And do not think we were ignorant of it. I was well aware that the world is not even close to shedding its deeply ingrained antisemitism.

I was aware of it when I wrote a speech about discussion of modern antisemitism and being told it was "well-written but controversial". I was aware of it when my teacher said I was responding "emotionally, not academically" to an author claiming antisemitism and the Holocaust weren't "that bad".

I was aware of it when a synagogue near me got shot up, a synagogue I've been to. I was aware of it because I had no other choice.

But it had always felt like it was "winding down" from what my parents had told me. Yes what my teacher did was bad but at least he didn't explicitly single me out for being a Jew and intentionally fail me. Yes the feedback for my speech was hurtful but it wasn't like I was being violently censored. Yes the shooting was awful but it wasn't a full-blown pogrom.

I'm not saying my logic was correct. Far from it. But that's how it felt before October 7th.

When October 7th happened I saw that nothing was "winding down" as I had previously thought. People were still just as keen to gleefully cheer on the killing of Jews as they had been. The world is just as slow to act when Jews are being forcibly held and tortured and killed. Blood libel and ideas of the "doctor's plot" are alive and well.

Oct 7th triggered old trauma, Oct 7th was traumatic in its own right, and for most of us, Oct 7th proved that antisemitism isn't going anywhere. It isn't winding down or getting better.

And that kind of pain? That kind of trauma? That sticks with you.

You wouldn't tell any other person to get over their trauma. So what makes it ok to say it to traumatized Jews as we are still processing the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust?

That behavior is horrible and inexcusable.

Trauma is trauma, you don't get to decide who does or doesn't have the right to be traumatized. You don't get to decide how people discuss their trauma.

[wordsvomit101]

I would put him as a "sad old man" on my contact list if I were MC.

Sometimes I gotta be a bit petty for MC cause they don't do it for themself. Credits to @shyanimeboi and their friend on X: https://x.com/shyanimeboi/status/1795183592961655077/video/4

Warnings: Sexual content, complicated brainstorming about guilt and legacy.

Of course, you would say that- No but honestly, I would be pissed as hell if he said that to me directly, cause sir your brother lowkey put MC's parent on the news, made their friend see his ancestor temporarily, and then almost put them in the casket as well. It's a miracle that they do not blindly hate everything relating to angels at this point. (Although I'm glad that you at least find closure from it you dismal oldster ╮(─_─)╭)

It's a little heartwarming that he shows that he still loves his brothers a lot, given how he said: "traces that Gabriel is alive and well". It got me thinking about how it could very likely mean that he believes at some point in the future, either the other kings kill his brothers or Lucifer will have to choose between Hell (repentance) and his love for them when put in a corner he cannot back out, and with him being the Sin of Pride, I don't think he would either.

Also, if he is happy just by seeing the brand alone then his brothers either avoid attacking Paradise Lost personally or he didn't face them directly after he told off Michael more than 100 years ago and he did say that he "can no longer meet to ask how he is doing".

This first option seems like something Solomon would say. As his descendant, how MC presents themself in the daily chats and some of their options are probably the closest we get to see how Solomon would act when he was still around. An example would be how they question the goofy 3 rules policy in Paradise Lost that was set by the nobles, I will admit, I didn't think of that either. I was affected by the devoted behaviors of the nobles from both the event and the beginning of the prologue, in turn, I put Lucifer on an unreachable pedestal and I love that MC boldly questioned it and presented their opinions and rationale that bring Lucifer closer to the player and shows more air-headed sides to the nobles. They bring new perspectives and challenge the assumptions albeit in a small but significant way. I love it, I hope they do it more in the future.

He also finally said it, the holy words of every prideful bastard I know on media, "How dare you", it took 4 chats but we finally got here.

How he process his brothers' wrongdoings and his own? Very understandable and something, in my opinion, most victims would rather want to get from their offenders' family members, acceptance and acknowledgment of the issues and the damage that was done, and a genuine effort to do the right things. Familial love is very complicated, and it is… difficult to hate and condemn someone you come to love first naturally in your life. I think Lucifer, besides God (but also not really), first loves his brothers, probably the first angel to do so for their kind, and by reading the Seraphs’ comics it clearly shows how they either don’t care or hate each other guts yet still capable of loving Lucifer. He raised them, he's both their brother and their second parental figure, and he show them love outside of their devotion to God.

And how he addresses them in the chat, he calls each one of them a "child", he was being very quietly affectionate by focuses on their well-being when he saw the brand on MC. He also only does this with them and Gamigin, so it is clear how he sees them from a caretaker standpoint (the allegation of him being born in his 30s and raising his brothers is not so far-fetched now, honestly, he is the true dilf here, not God). He knows his brothers ruining other people's lives but when they turn around and love and treat him so dearly that it can feel like what they have done to others is an illusion.

When that illusion doesn't cloud his judgment and beliefs anymore? It will hurt and it can feel like his perception of his brothers are lie. It can be easy to deny the first time but since it happens again and again he has to accept the change and it ain't gonna feel great to realize how he is not the bystander here and directly or indirectly enable his brothers' atrocities (maybe join them in it too at some point, but this is just my thoughts). It gonna rewire how he views a lot of things and it gonna run back from the beginning to the current time, and with how long Lucifer lived? That's rough buddy.

Now, humans are insignificant in these guys' eyes and a single death is nothing to them in the vast universe, yes, but like Lucifer said, God made humans and with how he said it after that, humanity is a part of God's legacy. Legacy is fundamental to what it is to be human to many, something to be carved on their graves and will at the end of their time, it also helps people who live beyond them to remember and let their spirits or unconscious presence remain on the world. So despite humanity in the grand scheme of things, humans are still the work of God. By referring to God as "Our Father," besides asserting his connection, he also indirectly extends that connection to humans. It suggests a shared lineage and inherent value in all of God's creations.

If I interpret what Lucifer said correctly, then the duty of the Seraphim has always been to protect and care for all beings created by God, ensuring the preservation of His legacy. This duty encompasses all creations, whether great or small, beautiful or flawed. To destroy these creations and leave only themselves as His legacy would be a betrayal of their responsibility. A legacy, regardless of its nature, is not to be forcefully erased. Those who seek to erase it tarnish the very legacy they are meant to safeguard and were entrusted to honor.

So if they can't even accept all of God's legacy, no wonder why they can easily go hunt down every single child of one (1) man they are jealous of. Perhaps this is my speculation on what they did with Solomon, who seemed resigned to being forgotten by the devils in chapter 5. They sought to erase his entire bloodline, his descendants, and his legacy, ultimately aiming to make him extinct from the world (like how poachers do it toward endangered animals). For someone like Solomon, this, in my opinion, could be the most terrible fate for him. I honestly wouldn't put it past God's plan to make MC a part of this war for Solomon.

This option is more like the canon MC than the Solomon option from before. They felt more personal here in their anger.

The desensitization for guilt and emotional detachment is strong in this. Lucifer acknowledges the gravity and permanence of the sins he and his brothers have committed and accepts that he must coexist with his guilt and remorse, but how he goes around with it is mostly for himself. Lucifer mentions that he "voluntarily fell to Hell", a form of self-punishment despite his brothers' protests (but also calling Hell the starting point of sadness is wild cause honestly? Not that wrong, I can't see truly happy devils, and if there is, their development happened off-screen).

Lucifer’s remark that the MC is "not that meaningful enough yet" is his emotional detachment from others. His focus remains on his own internal experiences rather than on the perspectives or forgiveness of others. This detachment suggests that his pursuit of guilt is inward-focused, rather than being about seeking forgiveness or redemption through the eyes of others. Selfish and very prideful, very fitting for the Sin of Pride. The idea that Lucifer is almost addicted to the feeling of guilt points to a self-destructive aspect of his personality. It indicates that he may be using guilt as a way to continually punish himself or a way to keep feeling alive through suffering.

Now this leads to my next point:

Lucifer's search for guilt and remorse indicates a need for intense emotional experiences. Witnessing someone cry, especially if he has caused the tears, could provide a powerful emotional release or catharsis for him. This could momentarily alleviate his own feelings of guilt by transferring some of that emotional burden onto others.

Control. By inducing tears in others, he might be exerting a form of control that he lacks in his own life. This dynamic could satisfy a deep-seated need to reclaim some semblance of power over emotional outcomes.

Witnessing tears might serve as a mirror to his own inner turmoil. It externalizes the pain and suffering he feels internally, allowing him to confront it more tangibly. This externalization can create a twisted sense of connection or empathy, aligning with his need to constantly grapple with guilt.

Lucifer's enjoyment of seeing others cry could be intertwined with his own cycle of punishment and redemption. Inflicting emotional pain might be a way for him to project his self-loathing and need for atonement onto others. It creates a scenario where he can experience the aftermath of guilt without direct self-harm.

Causing others to cry could validate Lucifer's sense of guilt and reinforce his belief that he is deserving of punishment. This validation can be perversely satisfying, as it confirms his self-perception as someone who commits unforgivable sins.

Tears are often a sign of vulnerability. Seeing someone in a state of emotional rawness might create a sense of intimacy that Lucifer finds alluring. This intimacy could particularly appeal to someone who feels isolated by guilt and sins.

[nakachuchu]

Protector | Gojo Satoru

SYNOPSIS: Your life was far more important than Gojo Satoru’s life, but no one understood why.

READER: female

WORDS: 1.9k

WRITTEN: 07/24/2023

NOTE: I never read gojo's arc bc I hate flashbacks so things aren't the same. I cranked this out on a whim.

EVENT: part of the Sly Fox Collab

Before the Satoru bloodline, there was the L/N bloodline. The very blood throbbing within the layers of your skin and flesh stood above all other bloodlines.

Despite not being as gifted as Gojo Satoru, you were still above him. Your very existence — your very breath — meant that the Jujutsu world was still standing.

If the beacon of light was struck down, there would be no saving others.

Your clan built the Jujutsu world and it was your great ancestor who closed off a portal that allowed demons — not only Curses — to roam free in Japan, destroying everything in their paths.

Gojo Satoru was your bodyguard — your protector since birth. Despite being born before him, he was still the person who was supposed to put your life above his.

However, as the first to hold both the Six Eyes and Limitless, he was an anomaly all on his own. His clan didn't like the idea of him having to sacrifice himself to protect you, should the time come for it.

So, his parents taught him one thing when it came to you: "Her life means nothing compared to yours."

Wherever you went, Gojo was supposed to go.

Gojo Satoru hated you. He despised your very existence. You were the reason he was on a tighter leash. He was already being watched since birth, but now he was being watched more heavily and had to watch out for others.

Gojo attending the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School was only for him to learn responsibility and how to hone his abilities.

It was a struggle to allow him to attend, but a simple "Yes" from you allowed him to attend. You were his master and he was your dog.

Because of your approval for him to attend, you attended as well. There was no better protector than Gojo, so you had to stick with him.

Your clan didn't want you to leave the confines of their estate, but they had no choice.

You were the one who held the seed of life within your very soul. Your death would unleash unimaginable death into the world, causing destruction to the very earth itself.

Only high members of your clan could know the true power you held. You may not have been as strong on the outside as Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but you held your own power.

Despite Gojo being your bodyguard, you were the one who followed him everywhere. You never spoke to anyone unless spoken to, and so you became his shadow.

He had no shame in voicing his opinions on the annoying shadow trailing after him day after day, but you had never reprimanded him or told anyone how he treated you.

It made no difference to you. As long as he kept you alive, you didn't care. Your clan members only listened to you because of the power of life you held.

You knew that if you were just another woman, they wouldn't listen to you.

You currently sat on a table, swinging your feet back and forth as you watched Gojo and his classmates bicker.

You envied him. You wanted to have friends as well. You wanted to go out after school to grab ice cream and gossip about crushes.

You let out a soft sigh and fell back onto the table, laying on it peacefully as you looked up at the blue sky.

"Are you alive?" Gojo questioned.

You turned slightly to look at him.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Good, I guess."

You turned to look back at the sky.

He stared at you for a moment before shrugging and going back to his friends.

The school day continued until it was time for Gojo to drop you off at home. He lingered around campus as usual, enjoying the idea of you having to wait on him because you couldn't walk home alone.

He was feeling quite smug about it — he felt smug every day — until a random dog entered the school grounds and bit him in the ass.

"OW WHAT THE FUCK — "

Geto and Ieiri burst out laughing, unable to contain their laughter. However, you were also unable to contain your laughter. You let out a snort before covering your mouth with your fist and clearing your throat.

Almost immediately, Gojo rounded on you after swatting the dog away.

"Did you just laugh?"

"No."

"You did. You just laughed at me."

"Not at you. At the situation," you responded.

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Come on."

He grabbed your sleeve and dragged you away, pulling you like an owner would pull their dog.

Gojo had never seen you laugh before. Who knew it would take his pain for you to laugh?

Since that day, he was always trying to make you laugh. He wanted to see what kind of person you really were. He wanted to know if deep inside you were just like him.

You were put in an unimaginable position, just like him. What were you thinking on the inside? Did you really like the life you were born into? Did you wish you were human instead? Ignorant of the Curses and death around you?

Geto and Ieiri exchanged glances at the scene in front of them: you and Gojo were laughing together.

A month shortly after the dog incident, you and Gojo had been more open around each other. He was more comfortable with your presence and didn't think of you as his shadow much.

You were more like an extension of him, always going places together. He even started walking you home right after his classes so that you would have enough time to stop by a place to eat sweets.

Today, the four of you would be going to a cafe together for the first time. It was your first real-time spending time with Gojo's friends. You usually left him alone when he was at school since you didn't want to bother him.

His life was much more difficult because of you and you felt responsible for the heavy chains wrapped around his neck.

You and Gojo walked side by side while Geto and Ieiri walked side by side in the front. The two would casually turn around to talk to you when the chance arose.

The atmosphere was fun and relaxing. It was your first time having a small group to spend time with, but of course, the happiness wouldn't last.

Before Gojo could even comprehend what had happened, your body was already on the floor and a warm splatter had formed on his cheek.

He didn't even notice Geto shaking his shoulders or Ieiri shaking while holding your body in her arms.

The bullet went straight into your head.

"Where?" he whispered. "WHERE?" he shouted, pushing Geto off him and frantically looking around for the culprit.

Gojo ran off to look for your murderer, leaving Geto and Ieiri alone with you.

But, that was exactly what the group of culprits wanted. They were silent and invisible until the very end.

One masked man pulled Ieiri off you, while the other dragged your body toward him. Before Geto could attempt to do anything, a skilled assassin appeared before him.

Geto was forced to fight for his own life while watching the culprits get ready to take your body.

"Let me go!" Ieiri shouted as she kicked around with one of the culprits.

"GOJO!" Geto screamed, knowing his friend would hear him.

Gojo appeared a few feet away, cursing his inaccuracy under the stressful situation. He frantically looked between his two friends struggling and your limp body being thrown over an assassin's shoulder.

Before he could even take a step, your body jerked and the screams of the assassin you were draped over alerted the other culprits.

Your supposedly dead body had taken a chunk out of the assassin's neck. Your hands dug into his body, clawing at him through his clothes as you spat out the chunk of flesh.

The assassin dropped you onto the floor and he scrambled away from you in fright, holding his hand against his neck.

You dropped to the floor on your hands and knees. Your bones cracked as you slammed a hand onto the concrete.

You turned abruptly to look — blood in your eyes — at the assassins who were fighting Ieiri and Geto.

The three teenagers were frozen in fear. You looked rabid — like a zombie covered in blood.

You slammed your other hand down onto the concrete. Cracks formed in the concrete, shaking the earth as the assassins attempted to scramble away from it.

Despite having a bounty on your head, no one knew the true reason why you were so important. They just knew you were important enough to have Gojo Satoru protect you.

A large monstrous hand shot out from one crack, while shadow-like tentacles shot out from the other one. The assassins screamed in agony as they were pulled under by the demons.

The "seed of life" within you was the ability to control those in the underworld. That was why you were so important.

Your very existence was the barrier between the underworld and the real world.

With the assassins gone, the cracks closed and repaired themselves. It looked as if nothing had happened, except for the blood that stained you and Ieiri's clothes.

You slowly got up to your feet and wiped your face with the sleeve of your jacket. The bullet lodged in your head pushed itself out and the hole repaired itself.

The three teenagers were silent.

"I died once before," you said quietly.

A tear rolled down your cheek.

"I got hit by a car when I was seven. I was walking home from school. And when I died, I saw things. I went to where those things were and I was in so much pain. Everything hurt. Everywhere hurt."

The more you continued to talk, the more it turned into sobs. You couldn't control your tears. You tried to stop them by rubbing your eyes raw, but your sobs turned into cries as if a child was crying.

"And I — I came back an hour later in the arms of my mother. I couldn't stop shaking and screaming. I tried to kill everyone who got near me. I — I didn't know who — who I was or where — where I was — "

Gojo walked the distance between you two and hugged you, smothering your head in his chest.

You wailed like a baby, clutching his school uniform into your fists. You refused to let him go and he wouldn't dare to let you go.

"Go ahead," he said to his friends. "I'll see you later."

Ieiri and Geto glanced at each other and nodded before walking home together. Geto wrapped an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"I — I don't know if I can die," you said, muffled. "But each time I do, it hurts so much. It scares me. I hate it. I hate what I see. I'm damned to eternal hell."

His hand cupped the back of your head, large and warm.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Apologies were hard for Gojo. He hated showing vulnerability and sincerity, but he couldn't imagine what you had been through.

"I should have been more careful," he said. "I'll take better care of you now."

Gojo Satoru now understood why you had to be protected. His parents were wrong. His life wasn't above yours. You were far more important than him, but they would never understand that.

He would protect you until the day he died.

[r0tting-rat]

DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

Can I please talk about my God AU? Please please please the worldbuilding is simply delicious please

Day 13 - Night

Pairing: God!Moon x GN reader Warning: None Words: 2400+ Summary: You're a thief and Moon is the God protector of thieves and liars. You strike a deal.

On Ouroboros, a world of wolves, lions, sheep and bunnies, you were a fox. Sly, cunning, evasive and stealthy, a jack of all trades but master of none, doing everything it took to survive no matter the cost. You stole, mostly, and did odd jobs, but for a reason or another everyone in the region knew your name. Or, to be fair, one of your many names. You had made up many aliases during the years—many of which were still spoken like a curse, along with insults and blasphemies—and you would continue to create new ones for each name that would get reported to the guards. 

You were wanted in many cities, looked down upon in multiple villages and beloved by… none, actually. The authorities of each place you had visited in the past had been given orders to arrest you on sight—dead or alive, no one really cared—and for that reason you feared you would need to flee the region of Lumen soon. A pity, honestly, because you were beginning to grow fond of the infinite plains of green grass, immense forests and prosperous cities, but you had to leave them behind and all because of a misunderstanding. You hadn’t stolen the King’s ring, not at all! He had actually hired you to retrieve it after it had been taken by a group of bandits. The king promised you a fortune were you to succeed, but something went wrong while you were rummaging through the criminals’ bags and most recent loot. The ring wasn’t there, but you found many other jewels in the mix which you knew had been stolen along with the ring. You guessed it could have been lost, or maybe they had already sold it, but you thought the king wouldn’t complain too much about it, so you brought back the whole bag. Inside were tiaras, necklaces and golden coins, all belonging to the king and queen of Lumen, but between them there was no ring.

The old man sitting on the throne had stared at you, eyes filled with venom, as you told him everything. 

-It just wasn’t there, believe me, they must have sold it already,- you shrugged, pretending not to see the animosity of the guards surrounding you and pointing their polearms at your throat.

-Do you even know the importance of that ring, thief?- spat the king, but you shrugged once more. 

-Not really,- you replied, -Was it a gift from your wife or something?-

-That ring,- hissed the monarch, -Has the seal of Lumen on it! It has been passed from generation to generation of kings and queens, it has been used to sign laws and documents ever since this city was built, that ring alone is older than history!-

Despite his age, the man stood from his throne to tower over you, imposing in all of his regal glory, and looked at you like you were a mere cockroach which had learned the human language. 

-That ring was a gift from the Sun God to my ancestor, it is proof of the divinity of my role, and I don’t believe you.- The king’s words were spoken in a hateful hiss. 

-What?- you asked, taken aback, -What do you mean?-

-I said that I don’t believe you. What I think is that not only you knew about all of this already, but you have also decided to steal it from me and lie so blatantly about it being “sold” away.- Your eyes darted to the doors of the large atrium, trying to remember if they had been closed behind you after you entered, but the more you thought about it the more you began to panic. -Guards, arrest this thief!-

Before the king could finish barking orders you turned around and ran as fast as you could towards the only exit, slamming your shoulder against the wooden doors decorated with golden flowers and praying they would open. The Luck Goddess was once again on your side and you managed to slip out before any of the guards could lay their hands on you, and before anyone knew it you stole the first horse you found—a beautiful white mare belong to the queen, who had just returned from a stroll—and you left the golden castle behind you.

Just hours later, at the border between Lumen and Umbra, the neighboring region, you jumped off the horse and took a break from riding. There was no time to waste, you knew it well, the king would have your severed head severed on a plate if you didn’t leave immediately, but you needed some time to catch your breath, and you also had a plan to escape. If you managed to leave Lumen you could restart from scratch in the region of Umbra, under a new name, maybe you could even find a dignified job and put an end to your life as an outlaw! The king’s guards couldn’t follow you in the other region, if you crossed the border you would have been safe from them.

Unfortunately, humans couldn’t cross the wild borders between the two regions due to a magical wall that separated the land in two perfectly identical portions, and the only way to cross said barrier was through official roads. Those roads however were guarded on both sides by armed guards, who checked every carriage and requested a permit for each person and animal being transported. Why animals as well? Because of shapeshifters, of course.

That option was completely out of the picture, many people before you had already tried and failed to cross the border via road. Invisibility, faking a permit, corrupting the guards; nothing worked, and you didn’t want to risk being taken back to the king were you discovered. During your many hours of riding however you had remembered about some legends you had heard in the city slums. People spoke of a man, many years before, who had managed to cross the wild border unscathed, after making a deal with the Sun God. Said man was a musician who had been accused of casting a spell on the queen and making her fall in love with him, so he had fled the capital city of Umbra looking for an escape route. At dawn he stopped running and sat on a rock, admiring the sky, and he began to play his lyre, certain that his time was coming to an end.

The legend said that, right as the first rays of the beloved Sun began to peek through, a man clad in a white hood stood in front of him, attracted by the beautiful music. The musician didn’t stop playing despite being terrified of the figure, which towered over him with its inhuman height, but suddenly the hooded stranger spoke to him in a gentle voice. 

-You are talented, human,- the voice rumbled in the air, coming from everywhere around him, -You wish to cross my border, don’t you?- 

The musician found the strength to answer soon after, bowing his head as he recognized the God standing before him. 

-Yes, my Lord,- he spoke, trembling like a leaf, -I have been accused of a crime I didn’t commit by the tyrant of Umbra, there is no place for me here anymore.-

-A crime? Which crime have you allegedly committed, my humble servant?- 

-Adultery!- replied the man, -They claim I have used sorcery on the queen, making her fall for me with my music, but I have done no such thing!-

The God hummed, and from under His hood a gentle smile blessed the eyes of the musician. 

-I am the Sun. Love, music and passion are all part of my domain, so I understand your troubles well. Play a game with me, human, if you win I’ll allow you to cross my border.-

The legend didn’t say which game the two played. It could have been chess, a game of cards, no one knew, the only thing the legend tells is that the musician won, and the Sun God allowed him to leave Umbra and his crime behind. People began to speculate that the Sun God and the Moon God walked the mortal realm during the dawn and dusk, but those that tried to search for Them were rewarded with nothing whatsoever. 

As you sat under a tree, looking at the iridescent hues of the magical threshold in front of you, you wondered if it had anything to do with being “worthy” of seeing the Gods. Night was beginning to fall, the Sun was setting in the horizon and from your spot in the soft grass you could see a myriad of stars illuminating the darkening sky.  

☆

You weren’t sure of when it happened, but you fell asleep. You dreamed of nothing, waking up less than 10 minutes later to a full night sky and a cloaked figure standing before you. You screamed, startled, and immediately your hand flew to your belt, closing around the handle of your dagger. Your wide eyes couldn’t understand what you were seeing, it felt similar to reading in a language you didn’t speak, but your brain was trying to make sense of what was before you nonetheless.

The stranger had a dark hood littered by silver and golden dots, like a piece of the sky had been taken and sewn into the fabric, but the rim of the cloak turned into something akin to vapor when it reached the ground. The fabric which at first reminded you of satin looked almost alive, moving like black sand in the desert during a storm, and just looking at it for too long made you feel dizzy. The figure was way taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck to look at it, but under the hood you saw no face. Still, you felt watched.

The stranger didn’t say a word, you simply stayed there and stared at each other, so you understood that he was waiting for you to speak.

-Am I in the presence of the Moon God?- you asked in a feeble voice, -I… I wish to cross Your border and enter Umbra.-

-What do you think you can give me in return?- asked the hooded being, and his voice was so profound it seemed like it came from the ground under you. You stayed there, puzzled for a moment, before realizing that there wasn’t going to be any game. You weren’t in the presence of the Sun, after all—you were standing before the everlasting Moon. 

-I don’t have much,- you said, -But I promise to do what it takes to pay You back, if You let me escape, my Lord.-

-So you’re asking me a favor based on… a promise?- He laughed, -Don’t you know that promises made by a thief and a liar are less worthy than a handful of dirt?-

-My Lord, are You not the patron God of thieves, liars and wanderers?- you asked, showing far more bravery than you actually had. In reality, you were shaking in your boots just by standing in front of a creature like Him. -Don’t you protect those who walk under your night sky?-

-I’m the God of many things, mortal,- He replied, and you could feel the irritation in the Moon God’s voice beginning to rise, -What you mentioned is just part of my domain. I am the patron God of liars, but I’m also the Law and Justice, or do you not remember?-

You took a step back, ready to flee in case the situation turned sour, but the mist falling from the God’s hood began to envelop you, pulling you closer and making you shiver. 

-I protect those who act hidden by the shadows of the Night I bring, that which you call “Luck” and “Fortune” has been me all along. I have protected you from the harm others may have caused you but I will not stand in the way of justice, for that will be simply the consequences of your own actions.- The God looked down upon you, and your hands lost their grip on the dagger you were holding. You had never felt so afraid in your life, and soon found yourself on your knees in the wet grass.

-Please,- you begged, -I’ll pray, I’ll make sacrifices in your name and forever be devoted if You let me cross, my Lord! I’ll lead a honest life!-

For the first time in your life, ever since you were small, you weren’t lying, and considering the domain of the God you were speaking to you were sure that He was also aware of that. Still, the idea of it seemed to amuse Him greatly, for He began to laugh loudly. Shocked, you stayed still, on your knees, and waited for the divine being to stop taunting your desperation. You uttered a last, choked “please”, which went unheard in the chaos around you. 

-Foolish, oh, so foolish of you!- the Moon God barked, -If you so desperately want safety, then so be it! I’ll save you from an imprisoned future, but I demand a payment.-

The God pulled the hood of his cloak back, revealing His form to you and blinding you with the ethereal beauty of immortality. His dark blue skin gleamed, iridescent like the most precious pearl, and His hair—straight and white—were so long they must have reached His waist. The eyes were red, beautiful and haunting, but the face was a half-blue and half-white mask. He spoke, words came out in His deep voice, but His lips didn’t move, not a muscle did. His expression remained unchanged, stern and serious as it had been ever since the Beginning, just His eyes betrayed His real emotions, and what He was feeling in that moment was amusement.

-You will come with me, human,- he ordered, -You will work as a servant for me and my brother, that is the payment I request in exchange for the safety I will give you.-

Large, beautiful hands covered by silver chains came to grab your chin, tilting your head up and stopping your lips from quivering. His touch was cold, so cold, but at the same time it filled you with joy, elating like a drug. 

-Do we have a deal, my pet?- said the Moon God, -What place is more safe than the side of a God?-

The Moon was offering you more than anyone in the world would have asked for, He was giving you on a silver platter things any other humans would have killed to have, and you…

You looked in his eyes, of the same color of blood, and swallowed. You agreed. 

-Okay,- you croaked, -Deal.-

-Good,- purred the God, -Very good.-

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

''Fight and Die'' Slightly darkAemond x AFAB Reader

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, abusive brother (but its not aemond) mentioned of forced marriages and duels, mentions of parental loss.

🔷Summary: Your ancestors once betrayed the Targaryens and paid a high price. Now you are back at court with your brother, who hopes to sell you in exchange for his freedom.

🔷Author's note: It might still be a little darkish but not as dark as usual. I think this is the closest to show aemond I ever got. So he still is not a unicorn yall but he is at least imo he is decent and nice.

🔷Wordcount :3934

You never set foot in King’s Landing before.

Not before the exile of your family almost a century ago.

The Marthryralys were once the most trusted advisors of the Targaryens. 

Until your ancestor, Daeyor Marthyralys sided with the false king, King Maegor. He had been burned after Maegor had died, and your family was banished out of King’s Landing, and the Seven Kingdoms. 

For years you lived across the narrow sea, in a small village in Pentos together with your brother and the heir of your house, Prince Fryand Marthyralys. He has everything you can expect in a trueborn Valyrian prince. Silver hair, bright eyes in a shade almost close to violet and a temper befitting a god, not an exiled prince.

‘’Chin up, sister.’’ He tells you with a smirk as you pass by several nobles and guards, servants and maids alike who all stare at you with judgment. They likely heard stories about your family. Stories of their treason and kinslaying murder and pillaging. ‘’Remember what I told you earlier this morning. Today is the day our family’s legacy will be reborn.’’ That is what he hopes. You hope your brother achieves this alliance. For as long as you can recall he wanted this.

Fyrand sighs before perfecting your hair, putting a loose lock behind your ears. “You be quiet unless I allow it. If you ruin this for me, the consequences could be dire. For both of us, but especially for you.” The glare he gives you says enough. You give an absent nod, staring at your own bitten down fingernails. Fyrand follows your gaze, scoffing with a deep sigh. ‘’And quit that. I didn’t keep you alive all these years so you can fuck this up.’’

The grant doors to the throne room are opened by guards and someone announces to you both as you hesitantly follow your brother. ‘’Lord Fyrand of House Marthyralys, and his sister, Lady Revaera of House Marthyralys.’’ It is one of the few times you hear yourself being called a lady, or even your first name. Fyrand does not bother with kindness and ceremony. He calls you whatever he likes, especially when he is drunk and in a bad mood.

By the throne, several people with silver hair wait. Yet you can easily divide them into two groups. One group wears subtle or not so subtle green accessories. And the other group wears about any other color but green. The Princess's party and the Queen's party. You know this from what Fyrand briefly told you about the Targaryens. The two parties do not like each other very much. Details are vague to you, as Fyrand didn’t want ‘’to corrupt your moral compass with nonsense that is none of your business anyway’’.

You know they are the royal family of Westeros. The Targaryens. Once close friends of your family, now look at you both. You do not know these people and they do not know you. They stare at you with the same confusion and questions you have deep down. You see it mirrored in their eyes and their hearts they carry on their sleeves. You keep your eyes on your soft slippers and faithfully remain close to your brother, afraid of these strange people. They killed your parents. They killed your ancestors. They killed your dragons. ‘’Your grace.’’ Fyrand speaks, full of servitude as he bows down for the silver haired corpse like man that sits the throne.

Or rather the throne sits him. The throne is a monstrosity in the worst way of the word. It does not look like a comfortable chair to you. Perhaps that is what it symbolizes. That ruling is no comfortable chair. It is not easy. It requires sacrifice, usually the worst kind. The kind where lives are lost and doomed.

The smell of poppy is heavy near the king and you assume he uses it regularly to dull his pain. He hangs half defeated, half consumed by the Stranger on his throne, his glare growing every minute that passes when you both are here. You continue ripping your nails subtly. 

‘’We let traitors in now?’’ A man comments, near who you assume can only be the Princess Rhaenyra. She is described as the most fashionable woman in Westeros, with silver, pale locks she often carries in Targaryen fashion. Her gown symbolizes a dragon, with her house colors, red and black. It has nice details and you take them all in. The man itself has shorter hair than his wife, although Fyrand would say it would still be too long for a male. He carries a sword around his hips, and wears a black armor as well. You guess by his age that this can only be Prince Daemon Targaryen, the King’s brother, the Princess’s her uncle as well as her husband. ‘’These two should be hanged outside and for the birds to peck out their eyes.’’

While you feel fear rise Fyrand laughs it off, as a joke.  The king is not so quick to judge you as his brother. He even smiles at you. ‘’You are the spitting image of your ancestor, Grysalda the Bold.’’ Out of both of you, he chose you to compliment.

Your brother boils in his skin next to you, yet fakes a smile and peacefulness.  ‘’Both fierce and stunning.’’ The King finishes. Grysalda was indeed both fierce and bold. She had a total of five husbands and flew the dragon Gravemaker. There was nothing she couldn't do if she didn't set her mind to it. She was said to be a great beauty. Men fought wars to lay eyes on her, Men conquered towns in her name and men would murder everyone that dared to oppose her. She was an interesting woman, although it is disputed whether or not she was a good one.

You make a small curtsy, swayed by the words yet wary of their meaning. Grysalda was a threat to the Targaryens. Is this a compliment or a very twisted warning? But to not acknowledge such a compliment would be rude. ‘’Thank you, your grace-’’ 

‘’Be quiet, sister.’’ Fyrand interrupts almost mumbling so the others won't hear. You close your mouth right away and let him speak instead. ‘’I have come with an offer for House Targaryen and House Velyaron.” He folds his hands on his back. You wonder if his offer is good enough for an alliance. You know what he will offer. You. He will offer you to one of the Princes of either party and he hopes that in return they will allow him to stay in Westeros.

Prior to this offer, no interest was shown by both parties. This changes instantly. Princess Rhaenyra turns into a woman dressed in Velyaron colors. Princess Rhaenys, you assume. Her granddaughters look on as well and even the Greens on the Queens side are surprised.

King Viserys sits up as straight as his sickness allows him. “You are bold.” You hear your brother laugh. You do not join him, your eyes constantly wandering to the interesting people around you. The princes and the princesses, the Queen and the King and their children.

‘’It is in our blood, I’ve been told by my lovely servants.’’ You think back of all the servants that nurtured you and Fryand when you were safely in Pentos and beyond. You are thankful for them, but there was only so much they could do to protect you from Fyrand. ‘’Since you ordered the death of my parents all those years ago.” Fryand smirks hiding the pain very well. The light in his eyes has died a long time ago. Nothing can bring it back.

The only sound that can be heard is Otto Hightower clearing his throat. “Are you here to dig up the past? I seem to recall your parents were planning my death.’’ The king is right. They were. You were almost a baby when the treason was committed but it was committed nonetheless. Your own mother died in childbirth and your father remarried quickly almost the day after.

You have known your brother for a long time. He is a dramatic man. He enjoys having power and enjoys playing with people. He will not tell them right away. He will toy with them first. ‘’I’m here for no such thing.’’ 

The Princess looks at you, as if you know more of this masterplan. You do, but you do not dare to speak again. ‘’I am here to ally my house with House Targaryen.’’ And with that, he hopes to restore your family’s legacy. All those years of planning in exile, all those years on the run all come down to this crucial moment. Was it enough? Or will you both hang before the sun sets?

‘’And why would we ally you?’’ The King asks, which is reasonable. They have dragons. You do not. They have a kingdom. You do not. You only have a freshly gathered army with questionable loyalties as they fight for gold and power.

Fyrand grins. ‘’It’s quite simple. I have built quite the legendary army, across the Narrow sea, in the Stepstones and far far beyond. Men are calling me Aegon reborn.’’ He grins at Prince Aegon, taunting him with this accomplishment. Aegon does not care, judging by his empty eyes and smile. 

You glance at your brother, giving him a clear look that warns him of the path he is rolling down from. He should not forget you two are both hostages until you can prove you are worthy of this alliance. To make him sound like their beloved ancestor is a mistake, you just know so. 

The king agrees with that as well, sitting up straighter and putting his crown back on his head when it slips. ‘’So you have come to threaten us?’’ 

You pull your nails faster, running out of your left hand. Fyrand chuckles but you can hear he has become nervous too. ‘’Your grace, no! Most certainly not. I came to a conclusion. I could destroy you all, but the chance you all yet survive because of your dragons is …too big for my liking. Why not forget about the past, why not let bygones be bygones. We should ally.’’ He says. 

‘’Bygones be bygones.’’ Viserys repeats after your brother. ‘’And how will I know I can trust your word, if you already have began expanding your army?’’ Even more wary grows and dread fills your stomach. You can already see yourself hanging.

Fyrand gives you a small nod and you step forward, your hands neatly folded on one another as you look around the court for any kind face. But everyone looks at you like you are a traitor. It doesn't matter to anyone that you were a baby when the assassination attempts happened. They think you are just as guilty. ‘’I have brought my sister with me. My pure blooded Valyrian sister. She can stay here as a hostage, perhaps even marry one of your sons or grandsons. There is no need to have her wither away.’’ 

The king rubs at his forehead as if a great pain plagues him. ‘’I do not have time for this.’’ He speaks. You and Fyrand both freeze. He is not even considering your offer. ‘’Escort them to the dungeons.’’ He adds. Fyrand is surrounded within mere moments. 

At first he couldn't believe it. ‘’What?’’ He can’t believe his plan didn’t work. And then the rage you know so well returns. He glares at you as if this is somehow your fault. 

You understand you must act fast. So you do. ‘’Y-Your grace! Wait. One moment…’’ You search in the basket one of your servants brought with you. Fyrand glares, at first annoyed that you search your sewing basket. A few men chuckle as well. 

‘’Is she going to knit her way out of this?’’

You put the wool and spools on the ground, searching deeper in the basket until you feel something cold, something hard and something ancient. You lift it from the basket, presenting it to all witnesses in court. In your hands is a familiar dragon egg. The king blinks with his eyes.

‘’Please, do not harm him. He has all I have left.’’ You add with a soft whisper.

‘’We found a chest full of dragon eggs in Pentos.’’ You hope you do not regret this. Fyrand makes a strangled little sound, briefly causing most heads to snap to him, back to the egg in your hands.

Prince Daemon draws his sword. ‘’Likely dead.’’ They might be. Most might be. Some eggs are centuries old, stolen during the time of Maelor.

You are facing certain death and so is your brother. You do not need this now. ‘’We did not have the resources to try to hatch them. We are no Targaryens.’’ You snap at him. ‘’We were lucky if we could find shelter for the night.’’ 

‘’How many eggs do you speak of?’’ The king asks. You did hope he would be interested. He is interested in dragon eggs. What fool wouldn’t be? You glance at your brother. He shakes his head rapidly.

Yet you go through with your plan. You must.

‘’At least seven and twenty.’’

Several gasps can be heard in the room.

Queen Alicent looks at the egg. ‘’’How did they even got there?’’ She wonders out loud.

A shout sends shivers down your spine. It belongs to your brother.

‘’I warn you, Revaera!’’ He thinks he is the only one who can make sacrifices. You will show him. 

You can either lie and be executed or tell the truth and meet your gods with a true soul.

‘’They were stolen from the cradles of Targaryen babies.’’ You reveal, your head hung in shame with the crimes of your ancestors. Queen Alicent instantly turns her head to a young man on her side, wearing an eyepatch. Even from where you stand you can make out the scars that he likely tries to hide. Princess Rhaenyra, although she may hide it, also glances at the young man, her face full of regret and what could have been.

It is true. For centuries your family stole eggs from the Targaryens, replacing well working eggs with eggs that aren’t working eggs at all. Just stone and clay. You walk to the iron throne, presenting the egg to the king. ‘’This egg, I brought for you, my King. It was stolen a few years ago. It was said to belong to Prince Baelon.’’ You know he died shortly after birth but it is clear that the king has never forgotten his first born son.

His eyes light up in ways you never saw before, as you hand the egg over.

‘’This is impossible. The egg is still here. It is in my room.’’ The Queen lets out a soft but painful sigh as if she tried for years to close a door that is now pushed open wildly. You speak. ‘’No, your grace. They were switched. You have likely fake ones.’’ 

‘’After everything I did for you! You dare betray our family?!’’ Fyrand shouts and this time they need to restrain him from attacking you. You back away, terrified of your brother.

‘’They deserve to know! We were robbing babies.’’ You feel like you are betraying your family. But this might be your only chance at survival. You feel tired, alone, terrified and like this can all end in a moment. You have nothing left to do but break into tears.

‘’They are the reason we grew up without parents, without titles, without dragons!’’

You know he is right. And you wish you could do both but you clearly can not. 

From the crowds, a brown haired young man steps forward, carrying the Velyaron colors. The colors of the sea. ‘’Grandsire, may I speak?’’ That must be Jacaerys Velyaron, the Princess’s ‘trueborn’ son with her lover, Harwin Strong.

The king smiles kindly at his grandson, proud that Jacaerys makes the effort.

‘’You already do so, Jacaerys.’’ He subtly looks at his other two sons, who stand by with rage written in their eyes, both green of envy and red of hatred.

Prince Jacaerys looks at your basket, your gown and the silver diadem in your hairs.

‘’We should ally with them.’’ He says. Hope fills your chest as you carefully start to smile.

Although the King loves his grandchildren very much, he will not let them affect his rule.

‘’Interesting. Explain.’’ He says instead, using this as a lesson. Again you notice his other two sons hide their displeasedness but it's so obvious to you.

The heir of the throne continues.

‘’House Targaryen needs more dragons. We can’t risk it that House Marthryralys will search for other allies. Dragons made us kings. Dragons made us strong. We cannot risk for the dragons falling into other hands.’’ You highly doubt that anyone aside a Targaryen could fly with dragons but with the blood thinning over several bloodlines it has become a risk to them.

‘’That is true.’’ The king admits despite the fact that he does not like you or your brother. He can see reason. That is rare for a king. Especially for a Targaryen king if what you heard from your brother is correct.

Prince Jacaerys becomes bashful, blushing a bit when trying to avoid staring too long at you. ‘’And, I think Lady Revaera has proven herself more than loyal to us, providing this information and the dragon egg. In fact, I was hoping you’d let us marry.’’ Marry? You feel new dread fill your chest as the King considers this offer. Even Fyrand has become awfully quiet. You need to turn your head to see if they didn’t knock him out. But no. He is still awake and awfully quiet.

‘’Not so fast.’’ A voice booms, as a shadow brushes past you, making his way to the Iron throne. The one eyed man stands in front of you. You feel threatened right away and gulp. The way he is dressed in all black is intimidating to you. ‘’I have done my fair bit of research into your family, my Lady.’’ You hear your heart beat only louder.

‘’You have?’’ You manage to ask, forcing your hands to stop trembling.

There is a silence in the throne room as everyone listens to what he has to say.

‘’Quite. You have an interesting story. I like interesting stories.’’ What is so interesting, you wouldn’t know. Your story is a tragedy. Perhaps he likes that. Perhaps his own story is a tragedy as well.

He turns to his father, and you briefly admire his long luscious looking silver pure locks that Jace clearly lacks. ‘’There is an old tradition, Grandsire. If an outsider wants to wed a member of the Marthryralys, he must duel a family member of the Lady to prove his worth.’’ That is true, in theory. But Your only family member is Fyrand. They won’t let their heir fight Fyrand.

And so, the king also speaks.

‘’I will not have Jacaerys fight that deranged man.’’ 

Aemond folds his hands on his back, his grin growing ever bigger. ‘’There is also another rule. If the Lady has multiple suitors, her suitors shall also fight for her and prove their worth. The victor shall become her Lord Husband.’’ You become uncomfortable, as you find it a bit of a silly rule, as well as concerning that he knows a awful lot about your family. 

‘’Why is that needed? I want to marry her.’’ Jace bluntly says, laughing a bit to prove how silly he finds these traditions that your house honored for centuries.

Aemond looks at Jacaerys so he can see his face before he reveals what he was planning all along. ‘’Because I am also quite interested in her, Prince Jacaerys.’’ That sends shivers down your spine.

The King is confused. As are you.

‘’You are?’’ 

Instead of addressing his father and his king, he turns to you to give you a kind, almost the ghost of a smile as if he can hear you think and read your confusion that is written across your face. ‘’Hm. A lady as beautiful as you, I’d fight or die for you anyday.’’ Despite these words he almost seems confident he will win this match. 

–

You visit Fyrand later in the dungeons.

‘’So.’’ He speaks as you have removed your hood. ‘’The Princes both seemed quite taken with you. Job well done.’’ He says, sitting up straighter, talking to you in high Valyrian so the guards won’t hear.

‘’They are eager for wives. It’s their age, I think.’’ Boys and men of that age become that way.

Fyrand chuckles as if you said something funny. He knows more about this than you ever will. ‘’Their age has nothing to do with it. They saw the way you played that fossil with that silly little egg of yours. They know their house is a dying one. The dragons become smaller and smaller still.’’ You heard the same, from your spies.

‘’You were clever, to think of it. To tell them the truth about the eggs.’’ You praise your brother, although you were scared in the moments where you acted out his plan. You had to turn off your emotions and believe that Fyrand would face certain death. 

He bows his head in fake humbleness that does not become him in the slightest.

‘’Certainly. I have my moments. I nearly saw Prince Aemond drool when you presented that egg to that corpse.’’ You bet he did.

You become uneasy as you think of the one-eyed prince.

‘’He scares me.’’ You hope it is enough to call off the wedding part of the alliance.

But instead of that your brother’s smile only grows.

‘’Hm. He should. He is much to be scared of, little sister.’’

He leans in closer, his face close to the bars. ‘’There are rumors he tried to kill his own nephew. He is quick to anger, slow to forgive and has the biggest deadliest dragon in the entire world.’’ You hope he is lying. He has to be. He is describing a true monster.

‘’Aemond will win this duel.’’ He adds, as if it's clear.

‘’How are you certain?’’ Perhaps because Aemond is taller or older or something else you do not see?

He laughs as if you again ask a silly question.

‘’Because I saw both him and Jace fight. It won’t be to death, but just so you know: You will become Aemond’s bride.’’

A terrifying prospect. You did not agree to that.

‘’I thought we would pull the plan before that would happen?’’ You ask, your voice scared.

‘’No, little sister no. This is a long time plan. You just focus on keeping and making Aemond a very happy husband, yes?’’ You feel your air cut off at his horrible description. You see Aemond’s hands on your body and his lips near your neck, slightly brushing it when whispering dirty things in your ear. 

Despite that, your body betrays you lie. ‘’Fyr, I’m scared. I do not wish to-’’ You wet your lips, speechless.

Your brother dryly gestures with the stomp that once had a hand attached to it.

‘’We all must make our sacrifices.’’ He says. You feel guilty. He lost his hand trying to get you to safety. He lost it defending the eggs.  He smiles as you silently cry, accepting your fate. ‘’Now go. I bet they are itching to spill each other’s blood.’’

As always with a new story let me know what you thought of it. Comments reblogs likes are welcome but not required. But they do make me smile:)

[jpitha]

It's just a walk for you?

Here's my entry for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial

I'll always hire humans on my crew, I'll tell you why.

A couple of cycles back, we were out past the Heights and the reactor failed. Some kind of overload, the engineers were chattering about it worried and finally pulled the lever and ejected it. It stopped us from being destroyed outright, but we had minimal power. Only what we could collect with our solar collectors, really. Lights, minimal environmental, things like that.

As luck would have it, we were stranded in a system with a "habitable" planet. It was much too heavy and chilly for most every sapient that I knew. Our human navigator loved it. Said it looked a lot like home. He also pointed out that it had a Community climate beacon on the surface, and that we could probably sent out a distress call from it.

Let me tell you, without a reactor, an atmospheric landing is not something you want to attempt. Still, we made it to the surface alive and mostly intact. The issue was we were still 150 kilometers from the beacon. We had no ground vehicle and it seemed like we were going to perish so close to rescue.

After lamenting our plight the human looked up in surprise. "Why are you so sad? It's only 150km. How much food and water do we have?"

"Only 4 days!"

"Oh? That's easy then. We'll just walk to it."

I looked at him like he had five heads. Nobody can walk 150km in 4 days. Still, he seemed determined to give it a try, and I had no other ideas. I told him that he could kill himself however he wanted and if he wanted to die of exposure on a strange planet it far be it from me to stop him.

He got up and rummaged around in the cargo hold and after about two demi-cycles came out with a repulse-litter and some kind of harness he made out of cargo straps. "Come on, it's big enough for everyone." and he gestured to the litter. He had even set up cushions!

By now, the crew had followed me to the cargo hold. "You can't pull this, its too big" were the majority of comments.

"Nah, it'll be fine, I've got the repulse-jets dialed in just right. It will be like wearing a light backpack. Come on, do you want to die for sure here or have a chance of survival? Look how far we've come! All we have to do is go 150 kilometers more and we can be saved!"

I put it to a vote. Of the 8 of us, 6 including the human decided to let him try and drag us to safety.

Early the next morning - ships time - we all climbed aboard. I have to say, he put the effort in. It really was comfortable to sit on the litter.

We set off.

Friends, I want to impress upon you how... easy he made it looked. demi-cycle after demi-cycle he pulled us, walking with that easy lope that all humans use when they're under gravity close to what they evolved under. He even started singing! Nobody knew the words - he said it was an old language that wasn't in the translators - but he was enjoying himself.

It was a sight to see. It really was like he was out for a fun walk around.

After the second day, someone finally got up the courage to ask him why he could do it.

"Do what, the walk? Oh, walking is not hard for humans. We evolved as persistence hunters. Our ancient ancestors would pick an animal and just jog after it until it died."

"What? What if you got tired?"

He grinned and showed his teeth. "The animal would tire first. As long as we kept the jog light and easy-" he gestured "-like we're doing it now, a human can keep it up a long time."

On the third day he kept it up. We'd pass him water and a ration bar when he asked, and occasionally he'd stop to nap for a few demi-cycles but honestly not that much. Most of the crew slept while he hauled to conserve energy. The planet was a good deal colder than what we preferred. He didn't mind though, wore a light jacket. He said that the exercise kept him warm.

Sure enough, on the morning of the 4th day, we made it to the climate beacon and our engineer was able to send out a distress call. We were picked up not even one day later, all thanks to our human navigator who hauled us all to safety.

So yeah, I will always hire a human on my crew.

[howlingday]

jaune is spiderman au) in which jaune is everyone's favorite webslinger, going by the name Huntsman (after the huntsman spider) downside he lacks the tech other spidermen have, upside he's already got tons of superstength and durability before he unlocks his aura! however his story is a little different than most spidermen, since everyone around him is a bad ass his grandpa (who's this story's uncle ben) doesn't die. instead when a white fang operative tries to rob him grandpa arc draws a revolver shoots his enemy dead and holsters without breaking stride. people at the scene describe him saying to himself "it's a hell of a thing killing a man" while walking away. take us through the life of a spiderman that the universe doesn't hate

A universe that DOESN'T hate Spider-Man? Oof... Tall order there, friend. But, sure, I'll see what I can do. Before we begin, might I regale you with my research? If not, skip to the read more. When I was playing Shattered Dimension for the PlayStation, there was a bumper in the loading screen explaining that there was a Parker of York Spider-Man who was a knight cursed with the blessings of a spider. I thought to look into this for inspiration, but I came up with bupkis on that. Instead, I found three different inspirations that used the name of Spider Knight. The first is Spyder-Knight from Disney's Ultimate Spider-Man. Not really anything too interesting. Just a knight in Spider-Man armor. Then there's the Prince of Arachne, who was a Peter Parker who worked for the noble Osborn family. He left after Princess Gwendolyn died in his place when Norman Osborn tried to kill him with a chandelier. Peter became knight and served as the Prince of the kingdom, sadly leaving a heartbroken Mary Jane to weep for his return. Then there's the SpiderKnight, who is a fusion of Spider-Man and Moon Knight, which is Peter Parker with D.I.D., including him, the witty voice of The Spider, the serious voice of The Knight, the confident voice of The CEO, and the techy voice of The Science. And then there's SpideyMoon, which... is a thing, apparently? A CANON THING, TOO! Like, apparently, they dated, but it's never brought up again after one mention in one panel? Actually, now that I think about it, I think that was just a joke Spider-Man made. But, yeah, that's what I found. Anyway, here's your Huntsman Spider AU~!

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Chapter 1 - Somethin' Sensational~!

There is an old saying, often told to those who begin questioning their lot in life...

"There are those who are born great. There are those who achieve greatness. And there are those who have greatness thrust upon them."

For one such young man, named Jaune Arc, he wasn't quite sure where he fit into these categories. One could argue he was born great as his ancestors were all heroes and imbued upon him the genetics of a great warrior. However, it could also be argued that greatness was thrust upon him when he awoke one morning with unusual abilities that allowed him to sense danger and climb up walls.

The third category, however, Jaune was certain he wouldn't fit into. His chances of "achieving greatness" were slim to none. Even if he'd somehow managed to stumble his way into Beacon Academy, a school for Huntsmen and Huntresses from all over Remnant, he still a poor fit as both a leader and a hero.

That said, he still did what he could to help out anyone he could. Like his grandfather taught him. "If you can do it, then just do it." His work schedule as a midnight superhero was a bit of a mess, but it's not like he could just stand by and do nothing. Especially not when his world was tearing itself apart.

"I'm screwed..." Jaune groaned into his textbook.

"Is that so?" Ren, his roommate, asked as he read from his own book.

"Doctor Oobleck is going to eat me alive tomorrow. I've been so busy dealing with the Torchwick gang that I wasn't paying attention to anything he's said this past week."

"You could always ask for a remedial class." Ren turned the page.

"And when would I have time for that? When you've already graduated while I'm still trying to figure out what color underwear Gura Belladonna wore when the White Fang disbanded?"

"Ghira Belladonna." Ren corrected. "And you don't have to worry about the underwear color. Just the cloak color. Which was..."

"Red?"

"No."

"White?"

"No."

"Green?"

"No."

"I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"Yes."

As Jaune slammed his face into his book again, he scroll suddenly buzzed. It was an emergency alert from the school...

"All students are required to remain away from Vale downtown due to a robbery in progress."

"Ren?" Jaune shut his textbook and ran to the closet. He snagged his backpack, complete with his superhero suit, and ran for the window.

"I'll tell any girls asking about you that you just missed them." Not looking up from his own studying. Jaune's leaving had become something of a routine at this point.

"Yeah, right." Jaune opened the window. "Like any girl would ever ask about me." Leaping out, he ran up the wall to the roof. Easier to change from there.

"3... 2..." A knock came from the door. Ren stood and opened it, finding his best friend and her roommate standing with their own textbooks. "Hello, girls."

"Hi, Ren~!" Nora cheerfully greeted.

"Hello, Ren," Pyrrha also greeted, albeit more demurely, "is Jaune here?"

"You just missed him." Ren said with a smirk.

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"There's trouble downtown."

"Mhm."

"Do you think it's the White Fang?"

"Could be."

"This used to be such a nice city."

"Mhm."

"If only the police would do their jobs."

"..."

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Jaune made his way from the school to downtown as fast as his legs could carry him. It was times like these, which happened every time there was a crime to be stopped, that he wished he'd brought his bike with him to Beacon. At the time, he didn't think he'd leave the academy very often, and even now he argued that it would only make it more obvious who this masked vigilante stepping in to stop crimes that huntsmen were either too busy, or too corrupt, to stop was.

Thankfully, he'd developed a routine by now and figured out the fastest way to downtown was by train. He didn't have a ticket, so he'd have to hitch a ride. Last time he tried to jump on it while the train was still in the station, the conductor's refused to move until he jumped off. For some reason, people didn't trust masked vigilantes when they said, "I'm trying to stop a crime from happening!"

Jaune was now downtown-bound with his eyes on The Gilded Crown, the biggest bank in Vale. Keeping low to the roof he quietly prayed that whoever was tough enough to make such an attempt was also nice enough to give up without a fight. Sadly, they were more the former and less the latter.

The train began to slow and Jaune leapt off the train and made a running start for the building closest to the station; the Vale CCTV News station where Lisa Lavender gave her unbiased view on him. And when Jaune says unbiased, he means that he doesn't like what she says but replies, "to be fair to her", to each of her arguments. After all, The Huntsman Spider is, was, and, for the foreseeable future, will always be a vigilante, not a huntsman or a police officer who work by codes, regulations, rules, laws, and everything else that stops a person from doing the right thing.

An extensive and drawn-out hop, skip, and a jump later, Jaune was watching the scene play out. Police, huntsmen, and huntresses were engaged in a firefight with bank robbers wearing black fedoras, black suits, red ties and red glasses. The Torchwick Gang. Jaune was weighing his options when he spotted someone breaking into the side of the building, through a top floor window.

"Hm," Jaune hummed, "either this vigilante thing is catching on, or there's something else going on here." Looking down to the brave boys and girls in blue and green, he decided they had enough on their plate without him 'getting in their way', as they like to say. "Think it's time I give them a break."

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"So, Ren~?" Nora leaned in, cooing with a sweetness in her voice. "Any idea when Jaune will be back~?"

"I don't think he'll be back until late." Ren answered, not looking up from his textbook.

"Seriously?" Nora gave a long sigh and fell back onto his bed. "Isn't he failing history?"

"He's been studying. I'm sure he'll be fine on tomorrow's exam."

"Well, that may be so," Nora jumped from her back to her knees, "but there's a lot more important things to worry about than studying!" She glanced over to Pyrrha. "Like maybe getting closer to your friends~?" She waggled her brows.

"Nora..." Pyrrha gave a small pout. It was true she held an affection for Jaune, but it wasn't something she needed to focus on. She was attending Beacon to become a huntress, not to find a boyfriend. Getting a date for the weekend wasn't important right now, even if it's something she really wanted.

"Jaune and I are plenty close, Nora." Ren replied, not looking up from his book.

The two girls shared a look.

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The inside of the bank was dark. Torchwick's gang must have shut off the power to make this heist a little easier for them. Jaune looked down from the rafters above as the black-cloaked goons of Vale's most dangerous criminal continued to unload bullet after bullet against the "protectors of the innocent".

Jaune understood it was a hard job to be a police officer and a huntsman. That's what his grandpa used to do, after all. However, according to the man himself, things have gotten way to lax and hard in the wrong places. When he threatened to go to the council, couple of dirty cops pinned Jaune's grandpa with a crime he didn't commit. No charges were pressed, but he was stripped of his badge and had his good name muddied.

From what Jaune had seen, this wasn't the case for all of the police, but still too many to just blindly trust all of them with everything. So he decided to let things play out down below while chasing the shadowy figure moving ahead of him. He kept his distance, following the obvious trail they left. Open doors and open windows practically screamed-

"This way!' Jaune looked down and watched as the goons started running deeper into the bank. Huntsmen and police wouldn't be too far behind. Jaune had to work fast.

Jaune's head throbbed, and his back slammed against the wall by a doorway on instinct. Bullets sprayed from the other side, meaning stealth was no longer an option. Holding up his arms, keeping his target in view, he charged forward as bullets ricocheted off his armor plating. When he got close enough, he ducked low and pushed himself forward into the figure.

That didn't work, though, and he what he jumped into fell away like solid smoke. His head throbbed and he rolled away as soon as he hit the ground, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a blade. As his rolling came to a stop, he watched the figure flee around a corner, beginning the chase again. He was about to indulge when he heard shouting from the other direction.

Following this noise, he found another large room, though this one wasn't riddled with bullets like before. Instead, there a group of hostages, all tied up and gagged, with the largest of them being yanked to his feet by Torchwick's thugs. Jaune could play cat and mouse with his lead, but not when there was somebody in trouble. Jumping down from the second floor, he landed on the balls of his feet and hopped forward. The gang members gave shouts as they aimed their weapons at him. He ran to the side, keeping clear of the hostages, and chased after the running gang members.

They dragged the large hostage down the corridor leading to the back exit. Jaune barreled through and knocked aside any criminal that got in his way. When they got up to try and chase down their assailant, they were captured by the pursuing huntsmen. Jaune made it to the back alley where the hostage was being shoved into a long car. Jaune made for a running jump and landed just as the car was peeling out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jaune shouted as the car swerved around, trying to shake him off. For better or worse, Jaune wasn't flying off with his hands sticking to the roof of the car. His head throbbed and he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a blade stabbing through the roof. His head throbbed again, instigating him to roll aside once more. By the time the third stab came, he rolled himself into position over the window. Giving a little hop, he smashed through the window, and everything started to slow down around Jaune.

The guy with the blade, shocked at the sudden intrusion, fumbled with his weapon before trying to stab Jaune with it. The thrust was avoided as Jaune slid into the vehicle with both hands now removed from the roof. Curling into himself, Jaune punched one goon while grabbing hold of the blade from the not sharp side. He then kicked the blade goon as Jaune tugged on the blade. One goon pulled his gun on Jaune, but the hostage jumped into him, giving Jaune the chance to avoid being shot and knocking the goon out.

"You okay?" Jaune asked, untying the hostage. "You usually hear about these kinds of things happening on trains."

"Aside from the glass in my suit," the man grumbled, scowling at Jaune as he removed the gag from his mouth, "I'll live." He took the gun and made his way to the front, where he tapped on the glass. The window opened and he shoved the gun through. "Pull over!"

"Whoa, whoa! Careful!" Jaune shouted. "No need to get violent!"

"Really?" The man asked sarcastically. "After kicking the hell out three asses, shoving a gun into a fourth is where you draw the line?" The car slowed to a stop.

"Wouldn't you?" Jaune asked, trying to ease the tension.

Without looking at his savior, the man replied. "You sound just like him." His arm twitched. "And you. Try anything funny and you'll wish you killed me back there."

Jaune, not sensing any danger, exited the limo with the large man. The man took the lead and brought Jaune into an alley where he could escape. Before he left, Jaune and the man had a talk.

"Look, kid, I get that your heart's in the right place," the man said, "but a lot of people got hurt today. If you want to help people, be a huntsman, or a cop. Don't make things worse by putting on a mask and being a hero."

"I have to, though." Jaune said. "If something bad happens and I could have stopped it, then it's no different than if I did the bad thing." Jaune's voice was a bit shaky, since this was a much larger man he was speaking to, but it was the honest truth.

"You really are just like Ghira." The man chuckled.

"You know Ghira Bellafauna?"

"Belladonna, and yeah. I used to work for him before..." Sirens wailing in the distance started getting louder. "You better go kid."

"Sure." Jaune jumped onto the wall and was about to climb up. "Oh, uh, one more question, if you don't mind..."

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"Well done, Mr. Arc!" Doctor Oobleck called as he handed Jaune his test. "...is what I would say if your score were just a little higher. You may have passed the exam, but I expect much better from you in the future. Keep studying and you just might get an actual 'Well done'."

"Er, thanks, Doctor Oobleck." Jaune said, sheepishly taking the exam into his hands.

"Guess you were studying without us, huh, Jaune?" Nora remarked.

"Well, something like that." Jaune chuckled. "Ren and I have been really hitting the books this past week."

"Yeah, well, some things are a lot more important than studying, you know." Nora rolled her eyes.

"Nora..." Pyrrha grumbled.

As Jaune ignored Nora, he felt like someone was staring at him. He looked around, his eyes passing over the classroom until he caught someone looking right at him a few desks away. The girl looked away, keeping her eyes glued to her exam paper. He recognized her, but more as a friend of a friend than an actual friend. Blake, wasn't it?

[nessataleweaver]

FIC: By right of blood (Game of Thrones)

RATING: PG

FANDOM/PAIRING: Game of Thrones; Jon/Sansa (implied)

SUMMARY:  Robb Stark’s return to Winterfell has been a long time coming.  But to his dismay, his homecoming is not the welcome he expects.

NOTE: show!verse, but the Red Wedding went slightly differently. It also diverts Sansa’s canon storyline at the same point it’s still currently stuck at in the books, with her in the Vale posing as Alayne Stone. I actually expanded this from a WIP I never got around to finishing back in 2020, so the jonsa is only implied here; let me assure you it’s quite real though.

PROMPT: for jonsa-halloween for their 2024 event, using the October 29th prompt  ‘Came back wrong!’ In this story, that can be taken several ways...

This story can also be read on AO3

Robb Stark, King in the North, couldn’t hold back a sigh as the imposing view of Winterfell broke over the horizon.

He’d been away too long.

“Is that Winterfell?” Talisa asked quietly, from her seat in the carriage that rolled beside Robb’s horse.

“Yes,” Robb nodded happily.  “I have to warn you, I don’t know what shape it’ll be in.  I haven’t been back since before the Ironborn attacked.  Roose Bolton recommended his bastard as castellan, but given that we now know he was behind what happened at Uncle Edmure’s wedding...”

Robb bit his lip to hold back un-Kingly tears.  The only reason Robb, Talisa, and the child that swelled her belly like a full moon were alive was because of his mother’s suspicions - and her sacrifice.  Along with many of Robb’s bannermen, she’d died during what was already being called ‘the Red Wedding’.  Robb had managed to bring home most of the bannermen’s bodies, but he’d left his mother’s remains in a burning boat in the Trident, like her Tully ancestors before her.  Robb and Talisa had already agreed that their first daughter would be named in tribute.

Robb’s first hint that perhaps he wasn’t as well-informed on the state of affairs as he should have been came when he saw Winterfell up close. 

It was... perfect.  There was no sign that the seat of the Starks had ever been attacked, except for a few fading scorch marks here and there on the walls.  It was better than perfect – the Broken Tower had even been repaired.

The second hint was when Beth Cassel came to meet him, wearing a Yi Ti-styled tabard bearing the Stark crest. She swept a graceful, exquisitely correct curtsey.

“As the steward of Winterfell, I greet you, King in the North.” With a respectful nod to Talisa, she added, “and his Queen Consort.”

His third hint came when she offered them bread and salt.

* - * - * - *

Robb was furious, and only barely hiding it.  This was only tempered by an ever-increasing sadness, accompanied by an also-ever-increasing feeling of trepidation.

Talisa had been ensconced in a set of beautifully furnished rooms that Beth had told them had been designated for them whenever they cared to visit, and would be called the Royal Suite in their honour.

It was in the guest quarters.  Not the family wing. Alongside those offered to the few bannermen who’d accompanied him to Winterfell, the rest who’d survived the war peeling off from his entourage to return to their own homes, eager to put matters into place for the approaching of winter.

Robb didn’t recognise a single person in the halls besides Beth.  Every enquiry he made about a member of staff he remembered from before he left received one of two responses:

“He/she died fighting the Iron-Born.”

Or the even more popular “He/she was killed by the Bolton bastard.”

The only exception was Mikken; when Robb had glimpsed a tall, strong youth who oddly reminded him of Robert Baratheon in the smithy, Beth had remarked to Robb’s joy that Gendry had made his way to Winterfell on Arya’s recommendation.

“We don’t know where she is currently, but we’re sure she’s alive.”

This had been followed by a dismal variation on a depressingly familiar refrain.

“Mikken was crippled by the Bolton bastard, so he’s instructing Gendry further while he supervises the smithy, now that the rebuilding is done.  We still have a lot of preparation to do for winter, including expanding the glass houses both here and at Weeping Water castle.”

“Wait - Weeping Water Castle?” Robb knew the Weeping Water river, of course, but wasn’t that right next to-

“The former Dreadfort, your grace.  With Roose dead at your hand for his betrayal, and his Frey wife and last remaining legitimate child slaughtered by his bastard, everyone thought that it was only fitting that the bastard’s wife be awarded the Bolton holdings as recompense for her suffering, and to keep anyone who might have supported the Bolton’s out of the seat.  Even Lady Dustin agreed.” 

“But who is she?”

“The former Jeyne Poole.  The Bolton bastard married her, claiming she was Lady Arya, in order to strengthen his claim on Winterfell.  We’ll need you to confirm her in the position before you leave, as well as confirm that she can hold it under her maiden name.  Given that she’s highly likely to die childless, Lady Jeyne will probably ask you to designate one of your children as the heir.”

With that surprising comment, Beth opened the side door to the Great Hall.  “Please excuse me not announcing you with due heraldry, your grace, but Lady Sansa is in the middle of the Day of Judgment and Appeals.  We prefer not to interrupt the hearings.  I’ll announce you as soon as the current hearing is done.”

Robb stood and watched as Sansa, in an elaborately carved rosewood chair placed on the bare dais where the family tables sat during feasts, presided over the people of Winterfell as if she were a queen. A very good one.  Beth had cleverly avoided answering any questions about what Sansa was doing in Winterfell instead of King’s Landing, and Robb found his curiosity burning almost as hotly as his anger.

Less than ten minutes later, Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell and King in the North found himself standing before his younger sister feeling like a supplicant, trying not to puke at the detailed list of what Roose Bolton’s bastard had done to his people.  Trying to digest the news that his silly little sister, who spoke of nothing but songs, sewing, and suitors, had stolen his rightful place from under him while he’d been avenging their father’s murder.

"I am Lord of Winterfell, and King in the North!" Robb thundered, his voice echoing off the stone walls of their ancestors.

"Yes, you are King in the North, by right of acclamation," Sansa agreed.  "You were chosen as such by your bannermen." Then her expression turned to mirror-blank ice, and her voice became harsh as the depths of winter.  "But you are no longer Lord of Winterfell.  You lost Winterfell to the Ironborn.  You lost it because you trusted Theon, and he betrayed us all. He murdered our brothers, leaving me as the rightful heir.  Then you gave permission for the Boltons to take it.  You approved of that monster coming to Winterfell. You allowed that monster to torture and slaughter it's people.

"So I did what you were too busy elsewhere to do.  I took back our home.  I made an alliance with our cousin Robin Arryn; I brought warriors from the Vale and I freed the people here from death and terror.  Winterfell is mine, by right of conquest.  It's people support my right of blood.  I am the Stark in Winterfell now, and so I shall remain.  After all, I'm the only other candidate. And I have the support of our only remaining family."

Robb looked at her incredulously.  "Wait - Jon?  You went to the Night's Watch?"

A shadow moved from behind Sansa's chair, and Robb nearly jumped out of his skin.  It took several heartbeats for him to recognise the black curls and pallid face.

"Jon? What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Wall?"

Jon reached for the neck of his black leather jerkin, and slowly unfastened it.  He wore no shirt underneath, and Robb stared in utter shock - not at his scandalously bare chest, but the several livid, still blood-red scars.

How could any man have taken a blade to the heart and live?

"My Watch has ended," Jon told him solemnly, as he re-fastened his clothing.  "I serve the Lady of Winterfell, now."

He laid his hand on Sansa’s shoulder... and something dark in the back of Robb’s mind recognised it as a touch of possession rather than simple support. The Sansa that Robb knew would have shrugged off any physical contact from Jon with a scandalised look.  This Sansa leaned into it.  Jon had always been pale, but now the skin of his hand looked downright ghostly in contrast to the deep blue of Sansa’s gown, the sparkling wolf emblazoned across her chest seemed to dance as she reached up to place her hand on top of his.

"Unfortunately, Winterfell is still being repaired from being sacked twice in as many years, so the King in the North will have to make his royal seat elsewhere, I'm afraid.  Might I suggest Moat Cailin?  It's location is highly strategic, and it's one of the few holdfasts where you won't have to rob a noble family of their home in order to take it for yourself.”

Robb looked around the assorted people in the Great Hall, and realised that he was surrounded not simply by Winterfell’s people, but Sansa’s congregation.  Judging by some of the glares, if he raised a single word of objection or insult to Sansa, he might not make it back to the Royal suite alive.

He would be able to do nothing to regain Winterfell until he left it.

Sansa continued, her voice cool and soft as snow, “I negotiated with the Iron Bank for the funds to rebuild and make the needed improvements, but if you wish to do the same, you’ll have to send your own representative.  I’m happy to provide a letter of introduction to ease their way.  I’m sure you can ask our Tully relatives to help, or leverage your wife’s dowry as security.  After all, you had all the same teachings about marrying to the benefit of House Stark that I did; I’m sure you knew better than to spend one of your most important political assets on a bride who could bring nothing of benefit to our House.”

“And what of your own husband?” Robb snarled.  “I hardly think the sons and daughters of the North will enjoy being ruled by the Lannister Dwarf.”

Sansa’s eyes glittered like icicles.  “You refer to the marriage made under the Seven in a Sept, not by a weirwood by blessing of the Old Gods?  A marriage I was forced into by threat of a sword through the back, before my courses were regular enough for me to be deemed fertile?  That marriage was without my permission, or the permission of my parents or guardian, and unconsummated.  I have already applied for it to be set aside by the Church of the Seven.  Given that my husband is currently under sentence of death for kin-slaying and regicide, I don't think there will be much objection, even if I do not become a virgin widow by the time my application is judged.  Though since half the northern nobility have died in a war you lost by not keeping your breeches fastened, the available candidates for my husband are limited.”

Sansa gave a long look at Jon, standing devotedly by her side.  “Who knows?  The Lady of House Mormont states all her daughters were fathered by a bear, and they are acknowledged by all as her heirs.  Perhaps mine will be fathered by a wolf?

“I suggest you act quickly, my King.  Winter is coming... and very soon.”

AFTERWORD: Robb quickly realised that most of his own support literally died off in the War of the Five Kings.  He never got around to doing anything about Moat Cailin; Robb lost heart after Talisa died in the aftermath of childbirth, followed very swiftly by needing to present a united front for Daenerys Targaryen, deciding that the War for Dawn was more important. He did at least manage joyful reunions with Arya, Bran and Rickon. While Jon got to kill the Night King (otherwise what was that stupid prophecy even for?) Robb still managed to die as a legendary hero, becoming the only Stark to die by dragonfire after shoving a sword through Daenerys to save Jon from kin-slaying. There was just enough left to bury in the crypts at Winterfell, complete with crown. 

Sansa was formally crowned as his successor, the first Queen in the North, with the support of all her siblings. She orchestrated a new golden age for the Kingdom of the North, becoming known as ‘Sansa the Glorious’. Jon finally gained the Stark name as her Prince Consort, choosing to forego the title ‘King’ so no one would get any ideas about Sansa not being the one in charge.

Robb’s daughter Catelyn grew up in Winterfell surrounded by loving family, including lots of cousins always ready to fight anyone who insulted her foreign heritage. As a young teen, Catelyn volunteered to give up any right to the throne in what she saw as atonement for Robb’s mistakes that gave the Boltons the opportunity to cause so much harm. Jeyne Poole instantly demanded to adopt Catelyn as her heiress.  Catelyn became so highly regarded in the North that she ended up holding a tournament to decide her husband out of a dozen worthy suitors from the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and even one of the Tarly’s, becoming ruling matriarch of the Starks of Weeping Water. She later started what was to become the first school in the North devoted solely to the healing arts, open to anyone regardless of birth or gender.  Now called The Talisa Stark School of Medicine, it still operates today.

[bonefall]

I hope you find a way to keep starclan involvement minimal because making them able to zoom call frostpaw so directly at any time raises the obvious question of why she (or anyone else in riverclan who wasn’t in on the conspiracy frankly) aren’t told who did it earlier

I’m curious if Splashtail was rejected for lives or if he refused to take them on principle

The solution is very simple. Most angels can't communicate directly! What's the point of speaking in omens and signs and prophecies if you can just say what you want

Between the realms of life and death is a sort of veil, like a strange, dusty membrane. A spirit can cross through it and try to influence the mortal plane, but it's got that disconnected feeling of working in heavy gloves.

Still, it's reliable to zip down and drag a couple of items to the nearest Cleric. They're trained in divination, learning basic systems for properly interpreting signs and omens.

The bright feather of a jay = StarClan is pleased with you

The dull feather of a jay = StarClan is disappointed in you

Hairstreak butterfly = Follow this

Snail shell, swirl-up = Yes

Snail shell, swirl-down = No

Trying to chat casually is AWFUL. Have you ever been asleep, and someone started trying to tell you something or command something of you? Sometimes you'll remember it, other times it just ends up warping whatever dream you were in, but most of the time you'll catch absolutely NOTHING. That's what it's like when gramma talks to you.

It's easier to connect to spirits you knew in life, or have a kinship with. Strong emotions make this more powerful. Rituals, like invocation (calling StarClan to connect the ancestor to you), channeling (directly contacting the spirit, usually via a sacrifical object), or prayer (catching the attention of a spirit) can strengthen the connection, but there will always be that veil.

Think of spirituality kind of like a stat. In life, having a huge number means you're really good at receiving messages and understanding intuitively if you're near something supernatural. In death, you're better at sending them and what exactly will get through.

Other assorted tidbits in closing;

More powerful spirits have a higher "stat" in spirituality, but they're also usually more disconnected from the mortal they once were.

Skystar, Patron of War, could pretty directly tell you what the confusing omen means...

But. He's very likely to angrily blast you with a lightning bolt for asking him to do something he sees as beneath him.

Thankfully this is why Invocation is helpful. If you tried to invoke someone who would get angry you're bugging them, the "call" won't go through.

Thanks to Clan cat ego and shifting popularity, good patrons often go uncontacted because they're less "cool" or unpopular. Pinestar actually got a lot of mileage out of his invocations of Bumble.

SPIRITS ARE INDIVIDUALS. Even when they've hit godly status and are distant from mortality, StarClan is not as united of an entity as it presents.

StarClan is not a fair or rational entity. It's the most powerful ancient spirits remembered over many decades, and a bunch of recent dead relatives a few generations behind the living.

Lizardstripe understands it best; the lower angels make a jury and a crowd and the patrons are the court staff.

The younger spirits are more connected to the living, but the older spirits have more functional power to pass on accurate signs

Ancient patrons, especially the founders, tend to not give a lot of "personal" attention to prayers, and when they do answer they tend to be cryptic. They are very disconnected from their mortal selves, more legend than life now.

Riverstar in particular is notorious for this. As the Patron of Water, he's essentially an abstract concept, on top of being a mysterious and wise person when he was alive.

Angels of all levels are perfectly capable of acting alone and messing things up, though. Birchface actually sent the sign that wound up getting Mapleshade’s kittens drowned, and he's just kept quiet about it out of fear this whole time.

Spottedleaf was UNRIVALED in her connection, both in life and in death.

Firestar doesn't know how she made it look so EASY... and he's also got a good connection, himself. He wishes he had more time to learn from her.

Shadowsight got his incredible connection by being tormented by Ashfur. He blasted him with lightning and turned him into a living radio tower.

If Ashfur and his accomplices hadn't blocked off StarClan, Shadowsight would have been more haunted and hounded than Goosefeather. They were the only "signals" he was picking up

(And then Ashfur ate all his accomplices anyway.)

SO those sorts of stunts are not pulled often. You need to be extremely powerful to alter the living like Ashfur did to Shadowsight

(In case you're about to ask; Goosefeather was likely either a mistake or an accident, unless I end up tweaking his story later)

The only time where you're guaranteed to be able to directly, perfectly talk to any cat is during a leadership ceremony. It's considered too sacred and personal to burden with commands, because the leader will only ever experience this once.

Going through the Moonplace is actually not a guarantee! They send very strong dreams to those who visit, more like TPB than later arcs.

As for why ghosts don't just reveal their murderer-- in addition to how hard it actually is to speak directly, most murderers simply take precautions.

It's known StarClan can be watching, but there are also demons to channel. There are rituals to ward watchful eyes.

Can't reveal your murderer if you don't know who killed you.

If you're Redtail in particular and your incredible sister breaks the law to summon you directly for answers, you actually waste the entirety of the time you got to yell at her about using the wrong method <3

But in a nutshell; no more zoom calls. You will STRUGGLE for your divine revelations and only end up receiving them when you've royally pissed them off the way God INTENDED

(also i think in the wind excerpt it said that splashtail rejected them outright, but I haven't read the whole book yet)

[rayan12sworld]

💙🧡Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down

By:KizuKatana

Summary:

Wei Wuxian would like to think that - if he had known that Lan Wangji would walk out of his life immediately after they hooked up- he wouldn’t have given into his ridiculous attraction for the man. He wished he were better at lying to himself.

Guest-starring Lan Wangji’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters

Chapter:10/10

Words:63,215

Status:completed

“I don’t work with major sects. Especially not the Lan.”

~~

He had to see Wei Ying, to make sure he was okay. He hadn’t been allowed to see Wei Ying six years ago, and the man had nearly died. Would have died if Wen Qing hadn't randomly happened to be interviewing at Gusu hospital that same day. It was unacceptable that a sheer coincidence was the only reason Wei Ying was still alive. The company Lan Wangji’s family owned had put Wei Ying at risk, then abandoned him. Someone in his family’s company had made the decision to fire Wei Ying without notice, which violated company policy. Someone in his family’s company had further made the decision to pull medical support over a policy that was clearly not meant to be used in this way. Lan Wangji was going to find this ‘ someone .’ And when he did… Lan Wangji cut himself off at the shocking violent images that flickered through his normally peaceful mind. There was precedent for such punishments. Though much of his ancestor’s history had been burned, enough survived to make it clear that Lan discipline had always been harsh. In the modern context, he knew such measures would be viewed as archaic… even barbaric. But cultivators were given leeway by the authorities and society at large to handle their own business. Lan Wangji felt a primal sort of anger and thirst for vengeance that - for the first time in his life - made him fiercely glad that there would be no boundaries to stay his hand if he found the one responsible for Wei Ying’s treatment.

~~

“You never told me that you and Hanguang-Jun had been romantically involved.” Wei Wuxian choked on his in-drawn breath, which sent him into a coughing fit that lasted almost a minute. “What?!” He wheezed, when he could finally form words again. “Why would you think… it was only… we weren’t romantically involved. Fuck, who says shit like that?” Wen Qing eyed him skeptically. “If you’re trying to play this off cool, you are failing spectacularly. Though that’s nothing new.”

~~

Lan Xichen shot him a sideways glance, and continued to scroll. “Wangji…,” Lan Xichen said after several more pages of scrolling. “Did you have time to do anything other than follow Wei Wuxian around and document his actions?” Lan Wangji felt his ears heat as report after report with his signature flashed across the screen. He had, perhaps, not realized that there were so many reports he had written about Wei Ying. “I was the Compliance officer,” Lan Wangji replied tersely. “Mn,” Lan Xichen said, an unforgivable smirk appearing on his face. “You wrote him up for wearing too few layers on a night hunt after being covered in Yao viscera and changing into civilian attire?” Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. Wei Ying had been wearing only shorts and a tee-shirt. It had been a professional trip. It had been… distracting. “You know that most people don’t flirt by giving citations of minor rule violations to the person they are interested in, right?” Lan Xichen persisted, openly laughing at him, even if it was only with his eyes. “ Ge ,” Lan Wangji said repressively, which only served to amuse Lan Xichen more.

~~

He also really wanted to run his sword through Su She, metaphorically. And also literally. His hand flexed around the cool, smooth hilt of Bichen. He trusted his brother, but Lan Xichen was kind. Su She did not deserve kindness. “Please trust me, Wangji,” Lan Xichen pleaded, as if reading his brother’s thoughts. “Su She must face discipline. According to the sect rules, not civilian laws,” Lan Wangji stated. He would not bend on this.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #29] 'Daddy'

warnings: polaroid taking, titty compliments <3, teasing, 'daddy' but not seriously lol, busan invite!!! yaaaaay!!!

a/n: last update for 2nite cos next week will be busan hehe

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

A soft smile rests on your lips as you wake up; the heat of Jeongguk's body keeping you warm beneath your duvet. His arm is looped over your waist, and while there's nothing inherently romantic about it, you find yourself indulging in how lovely it feels. Safe. Snug. Stable.

He eventually stirs a little later than you, squeezing you closer while his legs stretch out a little bit, and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Groans.

"Morning," he says, voice gravelly, throat a little parched from the dry winter air. Your humidifier had run out of water in the night, but neither of you had been woken by the small beep that would have told you so.

Your hand drops to rest over his, and he doesn't really think much of it as he spreads his fingers for yours to sink between. It's nice, the way his body just sort of accepts yours in any capacity; the same way yours does for him. You wouldn't say you're holding hands (even if you are). Would just say you're connected. Fostering a feeling of togetherness (even if you aren't).

"Morning," you hum gently, voice also a little croaky.

Jeongguk always thinks you sound cute like this. Likes your morning voice.

You like his, too. It's a little deeper than usual. Breathy. It's just 'cause the air has dried out his throat overnight, and his vocal cords can't vibrate at their full capacity. There's logic to his lethargic-sounding voice, but you ignore it all, 'cause you like the excuse of him just being sexy.

And yet despite the attraction that comes with a husky voice, the overwhelming adoration that irritates your heart as it bubbles through your veins comes in the form of intimacy.

Jeongguk's voice sounds like this because he slept in your bed.

He sounds like this, because he feels safe enough around you to let down any and all guards.

Sure, you're no longer hunter gathers from prehistoric times, and sleeping doesn't hold the same weight as it would have done for your ancestors. There are locks on your doors in one of the safest nations in the world. To sleep doesn't mean to risk death - and yet the cautionary tales of humanity run within your veins. You're only alive because one night, thousands of years ago, someone stayed awake throughout the night to ensure their family's safety.

Falling asleep together? Well, it only confirms one thing: you're a safety zone for one another.

Or maybe not. Guess you'll never truly know.

It's all very sickening, how sweetly you think of one another. Would never admit to it. Both as bad as one another in that regard. Made for one another, some may say.

"You stayed," you say, as if Jeongguk would ever leave.

"You know I always stay," he mumbles. He's been in your bed enough times for you to know this. Why you'd ever think he'd do otherwise is beyond him. "Plus I like your shampoo. Wanna use it."

His sleepy eyes are still shut. He's only entertaining this conversation 'cause he enjoys entertaining you.

"Show up without warning, claim my bed as your own, and now you're after a shower, too?" You affectionately scold him. He squeezes you a little tighter.

"What's mine is yours, remember?" he says, echoing a statement from the night before, lips brushing against your neck so subtly that you wonder if he even realises.

He does.

"We're not married," you tell him, to which he just shrugs. Holds you even tighter, still.

"We could be."

"Would you make me sign a prenup?"

"No."

"Okay," you airily agree. It's all facetious, and carries no weight. Is just fun to joke about from time to time. Something you've done for a while, now. Will always pretend like it repulses you. "We can get married. I'll rinse you in the divorce, though."

He pouts against your skin. Huffs. "That's not fair, B."

He'd never do that to you.

"Then don't marry me," you tease, as if it's even an option. "Problem solved."

Jeongguk doesn't like this scenario.

Also doesn't like that he's started joking about marriage, 'cause he knows it's only because his brain is doing that stupid little thing it likes to do whenever he has a crush.

See, Jeongguk is bad at the whole casual thing. Made a marriage pact with Hayun before he'd even fucked her. Fancied a friend in high school and ended up studying the same optional classes as her 'cause she told him that he should. It's why he was late applying for uni. Didn't have the right set of subjects studied to be accepted onto his course, so had to take a couple extra exams.

So now he's joking with you about getting married, 'cause he's accidentally thought about it a couple of times, and doesn't wanna be the only one of you thinking about it.

It's not like they were big dreams - just little daydreams, small snippets of a 'what if' . You hardly even feature in the daydreams. Apart from that one where he imagined you both walking into a reception room after the nuptials to a crowd of your friends cheering - but, like, everyone has silly little thoughts like that! Or at least, that's what he likes to tell himself.

He's been speaking with Yoongi a lot lately about wedding plans. Decides that's what's corrupted him. He's still young. Still single. He's not ready for any of that. Not in the slightest.

"Wouldn't wanna marry you anyways," he says. "You're so not my type."

"Gguk," you deadpan. "I can feel your boner digging into my ass."

It's not a lie. It's also not because of you, you know this. Know that morning is a particularly... hard time for him.

"It's morning," he pouts. "Not my fault. I'd get a boner even if I was hugging... I don't know. A pillow. Or Jimin."

"You'd get a boner for Jimin? Does mean a threesome-"

"No," he mumbles quickly, his sleepy voice making him sound so sweet and tepid, despite the burning heat beneath his ribs. "Shush, baby. No threesome."

Baby .

A term of endearment reserved for only the most intimate of endeavours, Jeongguk has never called you it outside of sex. He knows this. You know this.

Neither of you mention it.

You simply just pretend like he never said it; like your heart isn't beating so fast you're scared it might stop.

The rule of no pet names was put in place by you; ignored by him.

Disco Ball? Fine. Whatever.

Byeol? Excusable.

B? Well, it kinda makes sense.

But baby ? God, it gets you all sorts of fucked up.

You're able to ignore the way it makes you feel, usually. Too distracted by his lips, or the need to keep yourself from coming undone. Like this, when you're being kept warm by his body, but his touches are as innocent as his voice is sleepy, it's different.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a little bit scared. He's so good with your fears, but they still exist. You've just been holding a pillow over your eyes for a few months.

The pillow is gone now; just you, him, and the cinematic-scale fears your harbour in your heart.

"A threesome would be good for you," you say, not really believing it. "You're wasted on just one girl."

He squeezes you a little tighter, for the billionth time within a fifteen-minute window. "No, I'm not."

It's lovely to indulge in such a declaration.

It means nothing, in the grand schemes of things - just that Jeongguk thinks you're worthy of his body - and yet it feels a little weightier than it really should do. It's almost as if there are rocks tied to his words, but they're disguised in pretty satin scarves, wrapped up and hidden away, only felt when they get tied to you and drag you down. Head in the clouds, feet on the ground typa shit. The kinda feeling that makes you wanna write poetry, but you haven't written anything of any substance since Seokjin.

There's a quiet sadness to the way that your broken heart always seems to spill onto pages of notebooks, but the things you really want to shout about? The things that make you smile? They never make it onto the pages of your journals.

You keep these feelings all bottled up. Wax sealed. A daisy dried into the imprint. Just for you. Yours, all yours. No one can steal them that way. They're safe.

Like you are right now; Jeongguk holding you in such a way that lets you know you'll never be truly alone, as long as he's in your life.

You're grateful.

And it terrifies you.

You know that Jeongguk is withholding something that will only hurt you.

Have done since he showed up at your place after the last Dionysus night.

Should you rip it like a band-aid, or apply pressure to stop the bleeding? It's not a choice you wanna have to make.

Yet you know you need to.

Quietly, you muster up your courage. Untangle your fingers from his. Remain in your little spoon position, but busy your hands with picking off flakes of glitter from your forearm.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" you ask, a little apprehensive of the answer you could get.

Jeongguk's grip on you doesn't ease. He keeps you close, for fear of you wanting to leave. He won't stop you, if you do, but he wants you to know that he wouldn't like that. Wants you close, even if his past actions might push you away.

He sighs. Inhales. Loves the scent of your shampoo. Your sheets. You . Your smell , his brain corrects. Loves the way you smell. Not you. God no. Fuck. No. Not at all-

"Hm?" You encourage a response, knowing that Jeongguk is probably letting his thoughts get away from him.

When things get intimate, Jeongguk's thoughts tend to go awry. He voices the most unhinged shit he thinks of, just because he can. Says stuff he'd never dream of saying otherwise.

Contrarily, in moments of vulnerability (though his thoughts are very much still awry) he stays silent. It's a curious contradiction, but one you've grown used to. You don't mind it. Understand it. Understand him.

Eventually, he speaks up. "You really wanna know?"

Sitting, you twist your body to face his. Back against your bedroom wall, you pull your legs up to your chest. "Mhhm."

Your body language says 'absolutely not', and Jeongguk knows this. Sits up too. Lets your duvet pool around his impossibly slim waist, abs on show, and the freckle on his ribs that you adore so much says 'hello'. A teeny tiny tummy roll (thanks to how awfully he's been eating during exam season) reminds you that he's still human. Still lovely, regardless. Lovely, and warm, and a little forlorn in his gaze.

It doesn't linger on you. Drops to his fingers, which twiddle in his lap. He shakes his head, hair waving ever so delicately around his pretty features. His lips part. Words try to come out. Silence prevails.

"I already know," you say quietly, to which his eyes find you again. You're looking down, now. He hates this. Hates that it's his actions that have caused it. "I mean, I don't know know. I just know something happened with Hayun."

"How?" he asks quietly. He's not rude, nor confrontational. Just curious.

You shrug. "Intuition?"

Got a shit-bag ex who taught me all the warning signs, your brain corrects you.

He seems to accept this answer, so you don't elaborate.

He's quite forthcoming, when he admits to the truth. States it plainly, just like he did with Jimin.

"She kissed me."

"When?" You ask, wanting a timeline. Thinks it might help you understand his thought process if you know the steps that led him to your apartment that night. "Where?"

He battles with his mind for a moment, but his heart wins. Honesty is owed.

"Um, like, outside. The courtyard area-"

"New years," you say quietly, not to interrupt, just to connect dots in your own head. It's embarrassing, the way shame drowns you out. It's like you're spluttering for air, but in reality, you're stoic. Not moving a muscle.

"New years," he echoes. Hates this.Wishes the conversation would just stop. Knows it can't. "We were talking and-"

"I don't need the ins and outs," you interrupt, suddenly changing your mind.

Now that he's giving you specifics, it's just making you feel worse.

That's the most confusing part, you think. You've been feeling fine about things - and yet now, seeing his guilt? Makes you feel like maybe you should feel awful, too.

Jeongguk looks down. Purses his lips. "I know. I just don't want you getting the wrong impression."

"My impression is that you kissed Hayun and then came and fucked me," you sigh, bitterly disappointed. It's exactly what you've been assuming ever since that night, but the confirmation still stings.

"No, see, that is the wrong impression, B," Jeongguk stresses. You're so casual and flippant about things, but Jeongguk knows it was anything but. "It wasn't as linear as that. I know it sounds shitty-"

"It does."

"-But it really wasn't like that at all."

It doesn't matter.

You feel like a cheap consolation prize, regardless. Sort of like Jeongguk only came to you because Hayun decided she didn't want him after all.

It's stupid really. Your pride is getting in the way of things. Your disdain for Hayun? Even more so.

If he explained the what, the when, the why, the who, the how, you'd know that Jeongguk really didn't mean to make so many bad decisions. The only good decision that night, he thinks, was coming to see you - but even that, he managed to fuck right up.

The thing that pushed Jeongguk to leave Dionysus that night?

Wasn't Hayun. Wasn't Danbi rightfully giving him a piece of her mind. Wasn't any of that.

It was a choice that he had made earlier in the night.

Sick of his eyes searching for you in the crowd and always drawing blanks, Jeongguk had gone searching for you. Yeonjun had no clue where you were at this point, and had suggested maybe you'd already left.

You hadn't. Were just in the girls bathroom with Danbi, and some college girls who were in awe of the glitter (so naturally, you were turning them into glitter girlies too, free of charge).

Nonethewiser, Jeongguk tried his luck dipping from the club and heading to the next street over to where the arcade was. Less than a minute walk. Again, you were nowhere to be found - but the machine you had been at was currently free of punters.

Sure, maybe he spent a little too long trying to win the My Melody plushie, but he was drunk , and it felt important . He almost gave up after he got the Cinnamoroll, but couldn't. Had convictions. Was determined. Was gonna get your stupid, adorable plushie no matter what.

And he did.

Of course he did.

He's Jeongguk. There's nothing he can't do, when his heart's really in it.

Looked for you upon his return. Didn't realise you were still in the bathrooms, this time consoling a girl who had just seen her boyfriend kissing one of her friends. Classic, really. A little liquor and so many men seem to think that cheating is okay. Will cry about it being a mistake, but you know damn well the mistake is getting caught in the act, not the act itself.

His final port of call had been the staff room. Tossed the plushie down on the sofa. Sighed. Lamented the way things had changed since you'd last been together in Dionysus. Knew it was all his fault. Wondered if it was really worth it.

If Hayun was worth it.

He knows the answer, now. Had to experience it to really be sure, but he already knew. Deep down, he always has done.

But she'd entered the staff room when he was all sad and doe-eyed over you, and convinced herself that maybe it was her making him feel this way. Invited him to get some air. He'd needed a friend. Had lied to himself so well about the nature of the relationship that she was only ever a friend, he had seemed to think maybe she was. Maybe it'd be good to talk with her.

Lessons have been learned. Mistakes made. Decisions done.

"Should have told you first, I know," he says quietly, eyes on his hands. Looks up at you. Wishes you would look at him. "I'm sorry, Byeol. I'm sorry, and if I could re-do the events of that night, I would - butI I can't, so. This is where we're at. Fucked up, then I fucked you. Kinda poetic, in a way."

You snort out a disapproving laugh. "Yeah, if you were a teenager on tumblr in 2014."

"Not even gonna pretend to know what that is," he says, genuinely clueless to what a tumblr is, and why 2014 is relevant. "But B, we both know I didn't come here that night with the intention of fucking you, I never... Look, I'm sorry that I let it happen. All I can do is promise you that it won't happen again."

Men have promised they'd move mountains for you before. You'll believe it when you see it.

"What won't happen again?" you ask, a little petulantly. "You fucking me, or you kissing Hayun?"

Being childish right now will do no one any favours.

Will make you feel vindicated for a split second, mind you.

"Well..." Jeongguk begins, but stops himself from finishing.

He means Hayun.

Is done with it. Done with her.

Hates what's become of your friendship since her return. The loss of your closeness aches more than the residual pining feelings for her have ached in the last year. The way he once felt about her is not representative of who he is now.

"Well?"

"Well, kissing is intimate," Jeongguk says with a curt sense of authority. He's speaking your opinions as if they're universal truths.

"It is," you agree.

"I don't really think it's appropriate to be intimate with a girl my best friend hates."

"Hate is a strong word," you say, hiding a smile.

"I think it's just the right strength, here."

You know what Jeongguk is saying. He's speaking in tongues, but you're well acquainted with his. It's easy to decipher.

Yet you're an insolent little brat when you want to be, and so you twist his words. Not to be malicious, just to get confirmation.

"Hayun told me she was your best friend," you tell him. "And I'm pretty sure she hates me, so... you're saying we shouldn't kiss?"

"You rarely ever let me kiss you anyways, B," Jeongguk reminds you with a fond smile. Thinks he'd settle with never kissing you again if it meant he still got to banter with you. "But no, you idiot. Hayun says a lot of shit. You shouldn't listen to her. You're my best friend."

He's heard it with his own ears. Had always shrugged her mean comments off. Hasn't been able to shake the way he heard her speak about you. Tried, for a while. Just ended up making him feel like a shitty friend.

You deserve people in your corner. If Danbi was acting like besties with someone who had been cruel about you, he'd be pissed off. Thinks she had every right to criticise him in the way she had on that evening.

Despite being at his little party last night, Danbi had barely spoken to him.

Had looked at his neck. Raised her brows. Asked, "Well, are you being nice to her? I sure hope you are. And I sure hope those are from her, otherwise you're in for a world of pain, my friend," and then walked away before Jeongguk could even reply.

Danbi scares him.

Is pretty sure she scares Tae, too, but he seems to get off on that. To each their own, and all that.

"B, I don't wanna fight with you," he says, holding out his hand.

For reasons you can't, or simply won't, explain, you accept it. Toy with his fingers as your hands rest on top of your duvet. Trace his knuckles. Admire his tattoos. Relish in the serenity of him.

"Don't wanna fight, either," you sigh. Glance up at him, only to realise he's looking at you with such crestfallen need for forgiveness that it feels like the only thing you can do. "And, hey, maybe it was good. Me being mad at you gave me a little push in the right direction."

"Oh?" Jeongguk questions. His skin feels all hot. Prickly. He doesn't like it. "How so?"

You think nothing of it as you admit to the date you had last night. Jeongguk asks for his name. Nods when you tell him it. Asks for specifics. His career path - "sounds boring" ; his hobbies - "meh" ; his charms - "I have a dimple, too. See? Look, and I get dimples when I smile like this, too!"

As you're explaining the night before, Jeongguk is hunting for one of his shirts amongst your clothes. Says he wants to get a drink from the convenience store.

In reality, he just doesn't wanna have to look you in the eyes, just in case they sparkle for Seojoon.

"You're too competitive for your own good, Gguk," you laugh. "I'm not gonna ditch you for another guy. Unlike some of us , I'll keep my best friend around even if I do fall disastrously in love."

"Okay, one - I kept you around!" He protests, rummaging through the clothes on your desk chair for one of his shirts. There's definitely one in the pile. You're sure of it. "Two - who said anything about love ? I wasn't! Are you going to be in love?!"

Jeongguk can never really hide his emotions. He tries. Really hard. Always fails. His competitive edge is showing now in a way that it never has done before. He really is feeling threatened by Seojoon.

He's stupid, you think. You're not gonna ditch him. Would miss him too much.

Sure, you'll need to iron out the nature of your sleepovers, but that'll just be a small change - and fuck ! You've only been on one date. Hardly falling in love, are you?

"No!" You laugh. "Christ, Gguk. It's only been one date."

"But there's gonna be more?" He asks, still rummaging. Has already found a shirt. Just doesn't wanna face you right now. "You're gonna see him again?"

"Well maybe," you admit. "I don't know yet. He hasn't asked."

Jeongguk pretends like he isn't satisfied with that answer.

Again, he fails to compel this narrative. The little hum he chirps gives him away.

But then he's thinking about the reason you went on that stupid date in the first place, and wants to explain himself again. Really wants you to know how shitty he feels about it.

"About the Hayun stuff," Jeongguk begins, glancing over to you, but you just shake your head.

"Why waste your time explaining it away?" You ask with a small shrug and eyes so sincere Jeongguk thinks you could end world wars. Eyes he thinks he'd go to war for .

Silly thoughts, for a silly boy, who's engaging in silly conversations that makes his heart feel anything but silly.

It feels serious. Stern. Secure in his understanding of his feelings, but too scared to do anything about them. Especially now.

"I don't love your choices," you continue, not trying to be critical, but wanting him to understand why you aren't lingering on the situation. "But we learn from our bad decisions, no? We make mistakes so that in future we can make things right."

"It doesn't mean I shouldn't feel bad about it," he says quietly, eyes down.

"Well, what will beating yourself up about it do? Will just make you feel crappy - and like, don't get me wrong, I think you deserve to feel shitty for fucking me without telling me-"

"I do."

"But I'm not hung up on it," you stress. Really, you're not. "You feeling bad about it will make me feel like I should feel bad about it."

If Jeongguk was elated about his choices, enthusing about Hayun, then yes - you'd feel awful.

Thing is, his distress is written all over his pouty little face. There's nothing about even kissing her that he seems to enjoy. Not anymore.

Or at least, even if he liked it in the moment, the aftermath seems to have catapulted him into a near-permanent state of disgust. That's enough to make you feel alright about things.

"Okay," you sigh when you see his frown hasn't eased up. "Tell me one thing: do you still want her?"

The way Jeongguk recoils with a crease between his brows almost instantly says it all.

"Christ, B. No. Obviously not"

Cherry on top.

"Well, I mean she can have you," you tease, pleased to be smiling through such a conversation. Progress has been made.

"I don't want her," he insists, and it really does boost your ego.

"Should have thought about that then, shouldn't you?" You smirk with a raised brow.

Jeongguk throws his shirt at you. Whines. "Cut me some slack, B. I said I'm sorry."

The conversation dissolves into nothingness - Jeongguk asking you what you want from the shop, and you asking him what he wants to watch on Netflix when he gets back. Will only be gone for a few minutes, but it'll give you a chance to breathe and process the morning's revelations.

He slips on a pair of your jeans - mom cut, and shrugs when he looks in the mirror. Thinks they don't look too bad. A bit baggy, and loose on his hips thanks to your curves, but nothing that a belt can't solve. For a quick run to the shop? They're fine. Will do the job. Saves him from wearing sweats again, and given his near-constant state of boner this morning, sweats are not a wise idea.

The waistband of his Calvins peek out from the top of the jeans, framing his hips like they're a work of art deserving a place in the Louvre.

You sort of think they are. Think he's got a body that deserves to be admired. Worshipped. Appreciated. Know that you're more than capable of doing all of those things.

"Take a picture," he smirks, when he catches you looking.

You're unashamed.

Sure, your cheeks blush a little bit, but you just keep drinking in the sight of him. So often his body is shrouded in darkness when your hands are running over it - but you can see him, now. See the ridges of his abs, and the way they move ever so gently as he exerts a little energy.

Nodding towards the shelf just behind him, where your old polaroid sits prettily amongst some other tat, you smirk right back. "Gimmie it and I will."

You expect shyness - and get shyness, Jeongguk's smile a little scrunched as a soft giggle escapes his lips - but you don't expect for him to actually reach over for it.

"How do you work this thi- oh!" He exclaims as he presses down on the button that extends the lens.

It's not a proper polaroid, just an old instax that has seen better days, but it does the job well enough for you not to trade it in.

Honestly, you rarely use it these days. Maybe once a year, if you're lucky. You've no idea if it has any film in it - but as Jeongguk points it towards you, not bothering to adjust the exposure settings ('cause he doesn't realise it's needed) and presses down on the shutter button, it's confirmed that there is, indeed, still film in it.

"Oh, shit," he laughs, as if he wasn't the one who very deliberately took a photo.

He's not that stupid. He knows how cameras work. The mechanical whir as the photograph pushes itself out of the slot is nostalgic; a reminder of times that were simple.

He shakes the polaroid a little as he passes the camera over to you, looking at the empty photograph with a small pout.

"Takes a couple of minutes," you explain. "Put it on my desk, let it develop."

He does as he's told, believing you without hesitation. You've honestly no idea what you're supposed to do while they process.

Shake it - no! Don't shake it. Keep it out of the light. No! Give it light! No put it in the light for a minute only.

Everything you've ever been told about polaroids has been contradictory, and you enjoy the chaos too much to actually figure things out.

Holding the polaroid camera to your eye, you're smiling as Jeongguk decides to pose like an absolute tool. Muscles tensed, arms up in swan position, he looks like he's trying to compete for a place in Men's Health magazine.

"You're so stupid," you murmur affectionately.

"Stupid hot ," he corrects.

"Mmm," you hum as you press down on the shutter button, a flash lighting up your room. "Like a real-life Calvin Klein model."

He pings the top of his briefs against his skin with a teasing wiggle of his brows.

"Careful, or you'll speak it into existence," he assures you. "And then everyone will want me."

"So?" You laugh. "Am I supposed to feel threatened?"

Jeongguk's met many girls in his lifetime. Watched many on screen, and seen just as many in magazines. Gorgeous women. Beautiful women. The kind of women he'd be lucky to have - and yet, if were to be honest about his feelings for once in his damn life, he'd say 'no' .

No Hollywood star could ever compare to his star.

Instead, he deflects.

"Threatened? Huh," he smirks. Shakes his head to the side, like a dog with an itch. He's quite puppy-like, when you think about it. All doe-eyed and charming. Exquisitely cuddly and notoriously boisterous. Cute - and yet that smirk of his? The toned muscles of his chest? Sin . "You jealous?"

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "I'm not the jealous type."

Jeongguk presses his lips together, still smiling. Nods. Eyes sparkling, his tongue toys with his lip ring a little, the freckle beneath his bottom lip on full display.

Shakes his head. "I think that's a lie."

Oh, how insufferably right he is - but you're not gonna give him the satisfaction, even if you're both well aware of it.

"I've never been jealous in my life," you say with a small giggle as Jeongguk prowls towards the bed. You lift the polaroid to your eye, and press down on the shutter button once more.

He doesn't imagine it's a great angle.

He's wrong.

"No?" He flirts, taking the camera from your hands as he gets himself between your legs.

He's sitting on his knees, with his thighs hooked beneath your legs. The hand that isn't holding your camera - the tattooed one - pushes the shirt you're wearing up a little. Reveals your underwear, and the bottom of your cute little tummy. There's a softness to you that he likes. Gets him hard .

"Shame," he shrugs. "I get jealous."

"I could tell," you assure him, as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute. Something about Jeongguk like this - half-dressed, Calvins, body on show just for you - really gets you all hot and bothered.

The tips of his fingers stroke your skin, until they meet the top of your lace underwear. His thumb dips. Presses down on your clit, the thin piece of material the only obstruction.

You gasp, because of course you do, and Jeongguk feels vindicated. Thinks he'll never need to be jealous, 'cause no one is ever gonna make you feel like he does. Knows that he'll try his goddamn hardest to keep things as they are right now, 'cause he's had a taste of what it could feel like to lose you.

He doesn't want that - and yet he feels the need to preserve things as they are, just in case. Knows that Seojoon exists, and doesn't like the prospect of what that could mean for the future.

He raises the camera to his eye. Looks down at you.

"Chess?" He asks, giving you the option of an 'out' that only the two of you understand.

"You finally gonna teach me how to play?" You banter back, knowing that he wasn't asking you to play. He's checking consent before he presses on the shutter button.

It will produce just a single image. One for you to keep; proof that once upon a time, Jeon Jeongguk had touched you so indecently angels would weep. The sins you commit with him feel like heaven on earth, so how could they blame you? You're sure when you reach the pearly gates, they'll understand - though heaven wouldn't really be worth it, you think. Not when you've already experienced Nirvana with him.

"Not if you don't want me to," he says, his intentions thinly veiled as he lowers the camera to look at you.

There's innocence in his dark eyes; an elixir you just want to bottle up to preserve for a rainy day. His thumb is still pressed against your most intimate of areas, languid in its subtle movements, just to remind he's there. Willing. Wanting. Waiting.

"So chess, or no chess?"

He's too far away for your hands to reach him properly, so you simply tap beneath his hand to encourage the camera further up, indicating that he should realign it with his sight.

"No chess."

Slow as he makes sure he's got the perfect angle, Jeongguk presses deeper against you. Has you humming in anticipation of more substantial touches.

The camera flashes, a mechanical buzz accompanying your bated breaths. He can't have captured much, you think, knowing the camera well. Will likely just be his hand, probably, and the part of you it was taking ownership of.

The photo begins to slide out of the slot at the top of the camera, but Jeongguk's hands are full. He nips the edge with his teeth. Pulls it out. Keeps it there. Realigns the camera. Lets go of your pussy to push your shirt up your stomach.

"Up," he instructs, teeth gritted thanks to the polaroid, letting you take over the removal of your shirt. Your body is bare, save for the pair of underwear he's been toying with, your chest now his to play with - but he doesn't. Not really. Just holds one of your tits in his firm grip. Tells you to hold the other one. You comply. The camera flashes again.

He spits the polaroid between his teeth to the side. It's developing now. He doesn't dare look at it. Another, arguably worse one is printing out anyways. Again, his teeth nip at the edge and pull it out.

"You'll use all the film," you say softly, a fondness to the way you're scolding him. He discards the polaroid between his teeth, a smile on his pretty lips.

"I'll buy you more," he says as his hand strokes up your chest and sinks to where your bird should be. "Still missing a necklace."

Oh, on the contrary, you think.

"Shame."

Camera still by his eye, Jeongguk lines up the perfect shot: the top of your chest, collarbones sparkling in your bedroom light, his hand wrapped around the base of your throat. Careful not to include your face, he thinks it's a shame. Would have quite liked your pouty lips as part of the picture, too.

He squeezes his hand as the camera flashes.

Pulling the polaroid out with his fingers this time, he shakes it gently. Finds the other photos scattered around your body and tosses them in a neat pile beside your bed.

"Gimmie," you say, scrunching your hands out in a bid to retrieve the camera. There's no protest. He sort of wants you to take pictures of him, too.

Wants evidence that you once wanted him as badly as he seems to want you.

"Where do you want me?" He asks, a little shy now the camera is back on him.

Aligning focus, you hold out your hand, and let the tips of your fingers trail down the ridges of his torso. Jeongguk glances down to watch your hand, so focused on your dainty touches that he barely even notices the flash going off.

"Only two shots left," you say quite contently as you perch the camera on your bedside table, the polaroid still printing. You'll check it later. "Should save them for something important."

He raises a brow. Looks genuinely confused. "Your tits are important."

With a laugh, you shake your head, hair tangling against your pillow. Cupping your tits for a little support (and warmth) you simply say, "not if you're an ass guy."

Jeongguk's whole entire face scrunches up, to the point where his lip ring does the thing, but you can't focus on it. He looks too cute. Stroking the tops of your thighs adoringly, Jeongguk sighs.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not an ass guy anymore, but, like - shit , B."

He reaches up to rest his hands over yours, but you slide yours out so that his are making direct contact with your tits. Putting your hands back on top of his, you encourage him to squeeze them, which earns you a whine from his prettily pouted lips.

"Love your tits. Absolutely corrupted me, they have."

"I know," you say smugly. "You're welcome."

"I'm not thanking you," he laughs, rolling your nipples between his fingers. The arching of your back gets his cock throbbing. You're so easy to work up. So is he, though. "Ruined me."

He loves your laugh, but loves it catching in your throat as he spanks the soft flesh of your chest even more so.

He doesn't let the sting linger; soothes your skin immediately. Mutters to himself, with a shake of his head. "Absolutely ruined."

"Careful," you tease. "Or I'll start thinking you're a tit guy."

"I'll eat your ass just to prove I'm not," he banters back - but then you twist beneath him. Get on your front. Ass up for him, just how he likes.

"Alright, then," you challenge.

"B," he husks, gripping onto your ass with one hand and stroking down your arched back with the other. Poised so that you can see the mirror across the room, there's something sordid about watching Jeongguk like this.

Desire becomes him. There's nothing about his mind, body nor soul that doesn't want you in this moment, and it's written all over his skin. He has to have you. Will simply die if he can't.

"Yeah?" You reply sweetly, and he just knows you're gonna be in one of those moods - a mood he loves, but a mood he knows is no good for the way you make his heart beat these days.

"Behave yourself," he husks. "We both know we shouldn't."

It hasn't been discussed, but he's got a point. You know you should be practising a little more self-restraint.

"I won't tell if you don't."

His grip gets tighter. Jiggles your soft flesh a little. Gets him gritting his teeth. Cursing.

Your body jolts forward as he spanks you, just once. It's so satisfying.

"Shouldn't play with your food before you eat it," you smirk, knowing just the way to wind him up.

Yeah, Jeongguk thinks to himself. You're definitely one of those moods.

It's the bratty type. The 'wind him up just because it's fun' type - but two can play at that game.

"Want me to eat it, huh?" He husks.

"Mhmm," you whine a little as he massages your skin.

His hands are strong, but his determination to not let your brattiness win? Oh, even more so.

"God, you're filthy for me, aren't you baby?" He husks. Knows how much baby gets you. Uses it deliberately.

"Mhmm," is all you can whine in anticipation of something, anything, to relieve the ache in your pussy. Have been horny all week, but unable to act upon it without thinking about him - and you were mad at him. Didn't wanna be thinking about him at all, let alone as you came.

"My pretty little slut, aren't you?" He praises, fingers toying with your lace underwear. The slickness of your pussy seeps through the fabric. Gets him all wet and dirty, just how he likes it. "Cunt just begging to be fucked, but it's your ass you want eaten."

"Koo," you whine .

He's rarely ever mean in bed, but it always gets you even hornier than usual when he is. It's the juxtaposition, you think. A man as kind and charming as Jeongguk should not be as unhinged as you know he truly is.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" He laughs. "Don't fuckin' do it."

It's not that he doesn't like it. In fact, it's quite the opposite. He likes it too much.

"Why not?" You ask, because again, it's one of those moods - so Jeongguk decides that if you wanna fuck with him, he's gonna fuck with you instead.

"'Cause you're gonna address me properly, aren't you, baby?" He says, thankful you aren't looking at him, 'cause a smile is tugging at his lips.

He's got a plan. Doesn't know if you'll play along. Hopes you will. Knows that there's no way you'll fuck him if it goes right - and that's sort of what he's hoping for. The pair of you simply have no self-control, so he's trying to create some.

"What am I gonna call you?" You whine as he rubs over your panties with his long fingers.

"What do you think, baby?" he teases. "Use that pretty little head of yours, baby girl."

God. You're gonna die.

"Koo," you whine, because of course you do. There's only one name that compliments baby girl - and you don't wanna say it.

What you do want? Right now? Is for Jeongguk to fuck you so hard it makes you booking the entire day off worth it.

"Uh, uh, baby," he says as he holds your cunt. Absolutely takes ownership of it. Gets you all whimpery and whiney - and when he starts being nice? Oh, fuck . You're done for. Death imminent. "Use that pretty, perfect brain of yours. You're so smart, aren't you? You know what to call me."

Jeongguk would be lying if he said his cock wasn't throbbing. Your mom jeans - the ones that were baggy - appear tight now, thanks to his hardness.

You take a second. Assess how much dignity you stand to lose from 'addressing him properly', and decide you're too horny to care.

"You think I'm smart, Daddy?"

Glorious , Jeongguk thinks. Not the name. Just that he managed to get you to say it, and mean it. His power knows no bounds. This is fucking fantastic .

"There you go, baby girl," he praises, pushing your panties to the side so that he can get a good look at just how messy you are. He thinks he'll die almost immediately. "So smart. You like being smart for me, don't you?"

You can't believe you're gonna say it again. And yet -

"Yes, Daddy," you nod into your pillows, 'cause the anticipation of Jeongguk doing something - anything - to your pussy right now is simply too much.

" Too smart, almost. I'm gonna have to fuck you so hard you can't think straight," he tells you. Smirks to himself. His breathy laugh echoes around the room. "Gonna be a dumb slut on my cock, aren't you?"

"Fuck," you moan, not willing to subject yourself to another 'daddy' - but Jeongguk pushes his luck.

"Who?" he insists. "Who you gonna be fucking?"

You roll your eyes, not that he can see it. Can't believe you're doing this. Can't believe you kinda like it, either. "You, Daddy."

"Hmm," Jeongguk hums with great satisfaction, giving you a very gentle but curt spank, before rolling back down beside you.

You're confused. Worried .

And then Jeongguk is chuckling to himself. "That was easier than I thought."

You sit up instantly.

Mouth ajar, you turn your head judgmentally, reaching a conclusion that is gonna earn Jeongguk the bluest balls he's ever had. You'll make sure of it.

"What?!"

"What?" He smirks right back.

"That was easy? " You question, still confused, but also aware that despite the raging boner he has, a fuck is not what he's after.

Maybe he wants to be blue balled.

Weirdo.

"Yeah," he smirks, then fucking giggles to himself. "I got you calling me Daddy . God, you're so willing to do anything for my cock, B. It's so cute."

His smile prevails as he giggles, finding much amusement in playing you at your own bratty game.

"Oh my God," you wail. "I fucking hate you! You know I hate 'Daddy'."

"And yet you'll do it for my cock," he laughs even harder, now. "Oh, it's adorable. Really really sweet."

"I'm ending our friendship."

"No you aren't," he tells you, reaching for your wrist to pull you back down into your sheets with him - and for reasons you (again) don't care to explain, you just let him.

"I am," you assure him, even though you're kinda now snuggling into him.

"Don't disobey your daddy, baby," he jokes.

"I'll send him to an early grave if he isn't careful," you warn, but it only cracks him up even more.

"So you admit it?" he teases. "I am your Daddy?"

"Oh my God!"

"I'm your God, too? Wow, you really are being kind today-"

He's interrupted by your dainty hands covering his mouth. "Shut your face."

Jeongguk just laughs. Knows he'll probably just make it up to you with a quick fuck, if you let him.

The cursed thing about it all?

You probably will let him.

'Cause even though you hate Daddy, and you hate feeling embarrassed, and you hate not understanding your feelings, you do understand that nothing feels quite as calm as the aftermath of time spent in bed with Jeongguk.

It's the orgasms, you tell yourself. He makes you calm when he makes you cum. There's probably a science behind it. You're not gonna google it, 'cause you don't wanna be proven wrong.

"Put a shirt on," you huff. "You're paying for the snacks this time. You owe me, like, I don't know. Three weeks worth of snacks for that little stunt."

And so when Jeongguk returns from the shop a little while later, you're pleased to see he really did buy enough snacks to last at least a month, if not longer.

"Was meaning to ask you," Jeongguk says as he unpacks one of the bags while you scroll through the Netflix home page. "When are you next in work?"

You're yet to tell him you booked the day off because of his exam. Now Wednesday, you have Thursdays off as usual. The Friday shift pattern changes most weeks depending on who needs it off, but this week, you've managed to get it off, too. Saturday will be your first shift.

"Well," Jeongguk says. "I missed a bunch of family events 'cause I was studying all the time. I'm probably gonna head over to Busan this evening just to show my face for a night or two. Keep mum happy."

"That's cute," you smile. "She'll appreciate it, I'm sure."

He nods. Knows she will. Feels bad for being a bit of a shitty son in the last few weeks.

"I know things have been a bit mad with Tae's shows, and just... Well, everything," Jeongguk staggers his words, a little unsure of himself. For once, he fears your rejection.

"Mhmm," you agree. "Been crazy."

"Yeah," he nods. "Sea air helps, though. You wanna come with?"

"To Busan?" you clarify.

For some reason, it feels like your heart is in your throat. You might throw it up entirely.

"To Busan," he reinforces. Turns to face you. "With me. Busan. You wanna come?"

"Do you want me to come?" You ask, not wanting to be a charity case 'cause he feels bad about the whole 'Daddy' thing.

Jeongguk doesn't feel bad about the 'Daddy' thing in the slightest. He genuinely just wants you to come with him.

"I'll get bored on the drive if I'm alone," he shrugs. "Plus mum keeps asking why I don't have a girlfriend yet and if I introduce her to someone as repulsive as you, maybe she'll stop insisti-

"Oh fuck you," you laugh. "Mothers love me."

"Yeah, sure they do," he teases, knowing full well his mum will think you're the greatest thing he's brought home since his first-grade report card.

"I'll prove you wrong," you say, not that you have to. Jeongguk is just winding you up. "Your mum is gonna like me more than she likes you."

"So you're gonna come with?"

You bite down on your bottom lip. Ignore the conventions of a relationship that are looming over the pair of you both. Nod.

"Yeah. I'll come with."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[cloudninetonine]

A Player's Aid: Chapter 14

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

A/N: WHAT'S UP FUCKERS- shorter chapter but it's fucking here

Warnings: Bad language, descriptions of panic attack, descriptions of nightmares, descriptions of drowning/choking/suffocating, descriptions of hallucinations, mentions of possible PTSD

In the warmth of the afternoon sun, the people rejoiced.

Some kneeled to kiss the grassy earth beneath their shoes, others hugged and sung thanks to the goddess to see the light of day once more and others merely eased their tense bodies to the welcoming breeze, eyes closed in bliss. Freedom. Finally, they had reached freedom after those terrifying, grueling days stuck in the confines of that age old library.

The Hero of the Four Swords looked towards the castle in worry.

“Any sign of them?” The sailor asked nervously, eyes also trained on the grand palace. “Cook hasn’t picked up on the slate, no matter how much I’ve tried to contact him with the stone.”

The worry brewing in the smithy’s gut only seemed to burn at those words. “Not at all?”

“No.”

The eldest seemed the most panicked of it all. The Old Man held that mask of stoicism well but masks were not made in likeness, their duplicity was still noticeable under a scrutinising eyes and the blonde could see the worry in his gaze. The way he seemed to pace on the spot, how his hands twitched against the hilt of his sword and his eyes stayed fixated on those towers of stone a little too long. Time fought it, of course, and if the ‘accusation’ came that he was fearful in this moment it would be met with a burning glare and swift denial.

“I do not fear when I know you are all capable of holding your ground, especially against that monster.”

But not all of them were his descendant, were they?

Ever since that dreadful day, the Ranch-hand laid in a bed not of his own making, the darkness of the Shadow’s blow seeping into his bloodstream and slowly draining the soul from his weakening body as he edged closer and closer to death. Only a few terrible hours, but enough to air out the grievances with them amidst the worry and frustration. The Four Sword Hero and the Hero of Wild had fought but that had come to pass- however the light shone on the topic of ancestor and descendant could not just be pushed aside.

The Hero of Time had become…stricter with the farm boy. Obvious to them all, the man had taken his role more seriously then. All could see it, the nervous light dancing in his eye when he sent the brunette on an errand or watched him battle a monster with the strength of a Hylian Ox. The very thoughts of fighting the very thing that had nearly sent him to the gates where the Golden Three held eternal paradise was probably eating the Old man alive, concern gnawing at his gut like a dog chewed at its bone.

The Hero of Time knew that the others were capable- but did he think the same of his successor? 

The Four Sword Hero could also see that the question mingled in the mind of the Ranch-hand too, albeit the Old Man did try his damndest to not show it in front of him, especially knowing that stubbornness that seemed to last generations in his family.

The Skyloftian Knight had told him, even when he stood, bleeding out and wobbling, he would not yield his position as hero on that day the Shadow struck.

What an idiot his brother was, sometimes.

“How much longer could they be?” Gilda muttered to herself, the fairy having joined them when she had seen them return from their side quest. “Maybe I should go have a look-”

A huff silenced her.

“Maybe our resident witch has bewitched them,” The veteran’s words came offhanded but he could hear the loathing and wariness in his tone- he did not wholeheartedly believe his accusation but the Vet knew how to weigh down his words. “And given them over to the Shadow just like they probably planned-”

“Veteran now really isn’t the time for such words.” The Skyloftian Knight’s resort sliced through the air and had almost made the Four Sword Hero jump. When had he appeared behind him? “Can you not for the moment?”

“I am just saying-”

“Hey, there they are!”

Necks snapped, Four’s included, in the direction of where the sailor had begun to sprint. Nowhere near the castle gates but instead in the West, five forms appearing in the distance- four walking and the last hanging off the back of one of them.

The heroes plus fairy rushed over without a second thought.

“Are they dead!?” 

Wind had exclaimed those words in a moment of panic, eyes wide in a morbid curiosity as they glanced over your paled face in the light of the afternoon sun- you seemed still too. Not moving an inch.

“No!” Wild cried in similar horror, “They fainted! That’s all!”

Gilda didn’t need her brother’s prompt to rush over, her gentle green glow whizzing around your hair in an effort to heal whatever ailed you in that moment.

“We had to take a shrine, there was no other way-” Twilight’s words had come out slightly slurred, his own face looking pale along with the Captain’s and the Traveller’s- Four couldn’t blame them. The Sheikah’s magic from the Champion’s era was a strange one. No one quite liked their teleportation magic, too disorientating for them all excluding the wild blonde from his excessive use of their devices. “Uh, my head-”

Gilda went over each one of them carefully as the small group were led back to the rest, the people of the settlement offering their own help in the form of potions and such of any kind as they rushed about to make an impromptu camp. After all, the skulltula had torn apart most of their settlement already and left them with almost naught to defend themselves with. You were laid to rest on a bedroll, tucked in under a blanket with the careful touches of the Traveller and Champion before all were gathered to talk.

“I’m glad to know you are all okay,” 

Time’s voice sounded heavy with both relief and concern during the rush, looking over the group after they were tended to by a maiden scholar with knowledge of medicine- she had practically demanded to help in return for saving her life. “And I’m glad to see you were able to rescue our guest- but what of the Shadow?”

The four shared a look. “It…retreated.” 

“Wait. Seriously?”

“Yes, as soon as it reached the light, it seemed.”

“But the light has never stopped it before.” The Hero of the Four Sword brought a finger to his chin in thought, a slight flash of purple dancing in his eyes. “Even when taking the form of a beast, it still stalked the lands when the sun was highest- why stop this time? What could have possibly been the reason?”

The group shared an inquisitive silence.

“Well, the sun has never stopped it but it has seemed to grow weaker under its gleam.” The group glanced over to Sky as he sat himself up on his rocky seat, “Think about it, those many moon cycles ago- The Captain didn’t have much action when he and the Shadow had exchanged blows but when Ranch-hand- I…uh…”

Twilight rolled his eyes, “Just spit it out, knight.”

“Right, uh, anywho- when the Ranch-hand had fought with the monster it seemed to have more power in the oncoming dusk.”

The veteran straightened. “Dusk does bring more shadows than pure light. It would make sense.”

“But what of our time in the forest?” Hyrule asked, “It was darker, more shadows in the shade of the trees- it didn’t seem that strong then either. Angry, but not too powerful.”

Twilight playfully nudged Warrior’s shoulder. “You can thank our Captain for that.”

“Oh hush.”

Sky spoke up once more, “I think Fi’s light may have been the reason, we all see how it reacts to her power. It’s afraid. After all, she was made to seal the darkness and the Shadow is that- darkness.”

They let those words sink in, sharing looks with wild thoughts prancing about in their heads.

“...It didn’t feel that powerful.” The Hero of Hyrule glanced over to your form, situated comfortably in your bedroll and looking much more healthy compared to your earlier sickly expression. “Angry. It was certainly angry and almost suffocatingly so, but the power behind its shifting form didn’t really feel all that…there. I think that’s why it didn’t chase us further and I think that’s why we were able to escape. It’s weak. Too weak.”

“Still strong enough to open a portal?” The eldest didn’t seem all that convinced.

“In the darkness, yes, that’s where it takes its power from.” Confidence bloomed in his gut as the brunette stood a little taller, “The day that (Name) appeared it was late into the night, when it had taken them during our fight the darkness once again overwhelmed the light- these have been the only times that portals have appeared for ages. Don’t you see? It cannot function properly in the sun.”

A sudden wave rolled over the Hero of Time. Dark and guilty, his eyes of ocean blue swirling with conflict as he gaze ran over to your unconscious form. He hadn’t discussed what he had done those few days ago, a secret between both you and his descendant that he wasn’t quite ready to disclose to the group- now was the time however, no matter the look he knew the traveller and (now) the cook would burn into him.

“I have a confession.” Eyes tethered to his form in an instant- no backing down now. “Those days ago, back with the camp at Fort Hateno- I had a plan.”

The Twilight Hero sat straighter- The Old Man continued. “It was intentional, leaving our guest to fend for themself because I had a suspicion that the Shadow was watching us.”

The Hero of Hyrule’s breath stuttered in growing horror and anger. “...what?”

The Wild Hero practically leapt to his feet. “WHAT!?”

The roar grabbed the attention of the nearby settlers, Twilight moving to stand and grab his shoulders. “Champion, please-”

“They told you they could not fight!” The traveller cried, interrupting. “They told us all! They told you and you saw what happened! You did that! That was your fault!”

A few flinched at such a raw blame but the Old Man kept his shoulders squared, face stoic. “And I take full condemnation for such an idiotic plan- but it proved it. The Shadow is watching us.”

The cook ground his teeth, “You didn’t need to see something we all already believed.”

Time would have laughed at the irony of those words- he really did replicate the Ranch-hand in so many ways. To sound like him in this moment would have usually made his heart warm if not for the seething anger behind his tone.

“Seeing is better than believing, we all know that,” He sighed, “But that’s not what I wanted to say- that monster was further proof that the Shadow’s power wavers in the light of the day.”

The smallest hero raised a brow. “How so?”

“It’s positioning- the monster led our guest right towards us, why would it do such a thing? It knew it would take a few of us only moments to cross that river, the Traveller proves that, so why closer? Unless-”

“Unless it wasn’t where it was supposed to be.” The Captain looked up at the realisation, “The Shadow messed up.”

“What does that even mean!?” The champion snapped, throwing his hands up. “The Shadow always messes up- if it were successful in any way it would have killed us all already!”

“It was successful with taking (Name) wasn’t it?” The eldest turned to him. “Both times, both in darkness but when it summoned the Chuchu it messed up. Why did it mess up that time? The only possible explanation is the light.”

The cloud of realisation rained heavy on them all. 

The sailor crossed his arms, “But the Shadow was summoning all those monsters! I understand if it was weak in the light but the traveller is saying that it’s weak full stop. This wasn’t just a small camp of monsters, this was an entire herd. Surely in its weak state it shouldn’t be able to summon that many, right? And if it can, shouldn’t it be able to step into the light? It must have enough power for that if it can make a small army.”

Taking a deep breath to control the rage burning in his chest, the Hero of Hyrule spoke once more. “We might not have all the clues here, not yet. But I still think it’s weak, even in that display of horror and intimidation, the power that it gave off felt smaller than it had been for a while.”

“Let’s not forget that it has been months since we last saw this monster.” The Ranch-hand had finally managed to calm his protégé, the blonde more grumpy than enraged. “So that must mean something.”

Silence finally hung.

Their talk was informative, ideas flowing around them all. The Shadow had been pushed to the back of their mind during this long time of rest with nothing to show from its end. They had travelled all over the Champion’s era searching for monsters, for stories, for rumours and for portals but not a whisper in the wind. This sudden return had certainly shook them all but they knew it had been coming, maybe not that day they had found you at the base of that tree, winded and bruised but it was inevitable that the Shadow would one day return.

It would never give up that easily.

A shaky whimper caught their ears and heads turned to your direction, face pinching and lips shaking as you made more noise of distress.

Hyrule didn’t hesitate to move towards you, as did Wild, brushing past the Ordonian Hero to make his way over.

“Are we gonna go check out the castle again?” Wind asked after a moment.

Time shook his head, “No, however we shall in the morning.”

“Okay,” Wind pushed away from the tree he had been leaning against, jogging over to your position too.

After a few following moments of silence, the remaining heroes decided to part also. Twilight stayed by the side of his ancestor however, watching them all go with a heavy heart before turning to look at the eldest as he rested his head in hands.

Time sighed. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to make this up to them.”

Twilight’s hand rested on the older man’s shoulder- it was almost odd to be his comforter when it was usually the other way around. “Just give them time, ancestor.”

And that was that.

----------

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

Your hands clawed desperately at the ooze, fighting its weight as it dragged you further and further into the expanse of nothing. Kicking your feet had proved useless, you made no distance in your efforts, only continuing to sink deeper and deeper with no knowledge of where you would end up.

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

Where were you? How did you get here? You had opened your eyes and suddenly you were bombarded by the overwhelming feeling of the black sludge surrounding your body. Trapped, no way to fight it. With the consistency of molasses yet versatile like water, you only continued to sink with no hope of resurfacing.

You could not scream.

You could not cry.

You could only wait.

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

Then you felt it- the hand wrap around your calf. Sharp nails digging into the skin of your leg as it captured you within its grasp. You could not flail in panic. You could not fight its grip. 

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

You reached your hand out, begging for someone to save you from this horrid fate. You didn’t wish to die in such a torturing way. Unaware of it all. 

But it began to drag you down.

And you were going to die here.

In this horrible, drowning, choking, blinding nothing.

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind-

Your hand was grasped and you spotted it- the light. Seeping through the darkness in smaller beams that grew bigger and bigger as it began to haul you up, up, up- the hand on your calf tried fighting but with this newfound hope in your system you did not yield. Tightening your own hand, you pulled your weight up to greet the surface of the never-ending sludge.

Surviving.

Breathing.

Seeing.

You broke the surface with a heavy gasp, spluttering and coughing. Light surrounded you opposed to the darkness that you had been submerged in and you raised your eyes to look at your savour.

Eyes pooled with kindness looked back.

“(Name)-”

You sat up with a choking gasp, clutching at the blanket encasing your chest.

Eyes wild, you searched the area desperately for traces of that suffocating nightmare only to see that you were laying in a forest, as lush and as green as many were in a scene that slowly brought you back into reality. The trees wavered in the wind, the grass stood tall and you were not drowning in darkness.

Bodies were strewn about the small camp, a fire centring them all. Wild and Hyrule laid only inches away from your sleeping mat in their own, their soft snores light on your ears as you watched them with your pacing heart slowing to a resting thump. Looking around, you could spot a few more of the boys sleeping away with the settlement in the far distance, their torches beacons in the dark.

The dark…

You gulped, glancing around. Surrounded by it, eating away at the borders of your camp, it almost seemed to be watching you, studying you. The light of the fire was the only thing that fought it back, your savour in these desperate times- desperate? Why would it be desperate? Nothing was there.

Unless that nothing was something.

Unless that something was the Shadow.

Cloaked in pitch black, red eyes staring at you from beyond his veil of gloom. Was this what he was waiting for? The night to snatch you up again? Your cockiness would surely lead you to a tortuous death with not an ounce of glory to your name. You had provoked him and now you were destined to die a cruel end.

Something shifted beyond a shady bush.

Your heart kick started with a twisting leap.

You didn’t want to die like this. Not after everything had happened. You had been saved- you were safe! He couldn’t hurt you now! This wasn’t fair! 

You pushed yourself to your knees, hellbent on running.

No, this wasn’t it. Not after escaping your fate. 

The world muffled as blood pumped loudly in your ears, your shaky, uneven pants returning tenfold as wild eyes stayed focused on the shaking bush. You were not in between trees, you were back in that hallway. Winding and dark, as you watched the shadows slowly seep round the corner with its demonic host just only a few paces behind.

You could not fight but by God you could run.

Eyes peered through the darkness.

You inhaled in suspense.

A fluffy dog pushed its way through the bush.

And suddenly, you were back on the outside.

Collapsing back into your bedroll, you shook. Your pillow muffling your terrified sobs as you heaved and wailed into the comfort of the plush cushion.

It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real. The castle laid quiet in the background within the darkness, the trees acting as a fence between you and your near murder scene. Your mind may have still pushed that horrible notion but you needed to fight it with logic, with a clear mind. Even as tears cascaded down your hot cheeks you needed to see that you were indeed fine, you were indeed safe.

You did not need to add PTSD to the long list of things already wrong with you.

Something gently made contact with your head, the familiar feeling of a wet snout softly burrowing into your hair with frantic sniffs as the canine studied your shaking figure. Nipping at your skin with careful precision as to not actually hurt you, the animal whined and collapsed into a big fluffy heap right next to your shaking body- a boundary between you and the darkness.

After a few moments, you glanced at it.

“...Wolfie?” Wolfie, or Twilight as you knew under the disguise of Twili magic, tilted his head curiously at you. “...what are you doing here?”

The wolf quietly barked- a squeak with maws snapping.

“Right…you can’t talk…” Sniffling, you hiccuped on a breath and reached your hand out carefully, fingers making contact with the poofy fur decorating his chest. “....you’re soft.”

Another quiet bark, you giggled this time at the noise.

“I’m sorry…were you patrolling?” He hummed a whine that you could only believe was a ‘yes’, your head coming to rest upon his paws in an act of seeking comfort- you hoped you weren’t making Twilight uncomfortable. “Sorry for getting in the way.”

Wolfie rested his head atop yours carefully.

“I just-...” You teared up once again, shaking. “It’s so dark and I just couldn’t-”

A deep sound came from within his chest, not a growl or grunt, but a long soft hum that had you fall quiet with only sniffles leaving you. You were tired, you were scared and you wished you were back home with your Mama. 

Mama.

You wanted your mama.

She would have held you, even through her grump after you woke her.

“I want my mama,” You sniffed, “I want go home- I hate this fucking place.”

Tightening into a ball, you cuddled closer to the canine. The hero did nothing to fight it, in fact, he pushed his body closer to your own as he curled around your frame protectively. Like a blanket of safety, he kept you covered and made an effort to shield you from the horrors of the outside world. You were not alone in this nightmare, you did not have to isolate yourself and suffer.

You cried yourself to sleep.

[sapphireeternal]

The woman of his dreams

Pair : Aemond x lector

Warnings: Fluff? actually I don't think there is none.

Notes: To be honest, I had a clear idea but then I got sidetracked, I'm posting it because I still like the way it turned out.

Context: How is Aemond with a wife who is a mixture of the first two women he loves in his life?

➤ Aemond since he saw you for the first time you reminded him of his mother's beauty. You are like a copy of Alicent, that was something that motivated him to talk to you. You have wavy hair held in small braids, with a light green dress contrasted with white, but in the part of your waist are woven some pink flowers. Showing a soft smile with eyes that have a characteristic glow.

➤ Then, since he saw you for the first time, he followed you discreetly the hours he was not in his training. With that he realized that your favorite places are the garden and the library, where you choose books on gardening and animals.

➤ The first time he talked to you was in the library where he caught you looking for some books for your plants "If you are looking for books to take care of your wildflower, it is at the bottom."

You startle dropping the book you had in your hands, you pick it up quickly to bow to him "I'm sorry my prince, I didn't mean to disturb" you say it softly looking at him nervously and place the book where it should be. "I withdraw so as not to interrupt your reading."

"My lady, you are not a bother, in fact I think you would make a good companion. would you like to join me for a while in my reading?" With a smile you nod and look for the book you wanted where he had told you.

➤ It became a routine for you to be with him in the library in the afternoons after your knitting classes. Aemond would read history or philosophy, while you were interested in books about mother earth, its stages, rules and care.

➤ Months after talking about your tastes and knowledge, he noticed how intelligent you were about nature and you became more interested in the battle of your ancestors and their history. Aemond noticed your interest in dragons, so he promised you that someday you will see the greatest dragon still alive.

➤ Thanks to Aemond, you met Helaena, a woman you loved because you were so much alike. With this he realized that you are the representation of the perfect woman. He didn't wait another day to go to his mother and tell her the news that he had found the woman of his dreams.

➤ A wedding was held some time later, where there was joy and laughter all around along with a great feast that was shared among the crowd. You on the one hand show a smile knowing that you have married a respectful and kind man, you knew that Aemond's reputation is of being someone cold and ruthless, but he has shown you that he is the opposite, Aemond Targaryen is a man that every woman should have in her life, but unfortunately for those women, this man is already yours. On the other side was Aemond, who for the first time shows a smile that the whole audience can appreciate, but still keeping his cold gaze towards the men who crave your gaze.

➤ In the early days of marriage you can see that Aemond has devoted all his time to you, without neglecting his princely affairs. Afternoons as usual were in the library, but sometimes it is interrupted by your desire to take care of your plants, then Aemond is reading sitting on one of the benches in the garden while you are in front of him growing and caring for flowers.

"Aemond, dear can you look at me for a moment?"

"What do you desire of me, my wildflower?" he asks looking up from his book, finding you with a flower in each hand.

"Which do you think your mother likes, Hydrangeas or Lilies?" you look at him hesitantly "I always bring her Lilies, because they are beautiful, but I also plant Hydrangeas, which are your mother's favorite color. what do you think?" you ask.

He smiles as he sees how you make a point of always cheering up his mother with the flowers you've planted these past few weeks. "I'd say Hydrangeas, if it's the color green she'll love anything" he says turning his gaze back to the book as he sees how you nodded and started gathering a bouquet of Hydrangeas.

➤ Let's talk about your relationship with your mother-in-law, Alicent knew you were a good woman for Aemond after seeing the affection and kindness you gave him when you both spent your afternoons in the library. After the marriage, they grew closer thanks to the little tea parties they have together and sometimes Helaena joins in. She is happy to see how her son is married to a woman who complements him, whenever I hear you talk about Aemond you always rave about him, like a woman in love. And that made her happy.

➤ Aemond's love for you is so infinite that he fights with sword and shield to stop anything that breaks his happy marriage. If you are sad or angry, Aemond will help you change that feeling to happiness, if you get hurt, they expect the person to hide well, because everyone can see the anger he feels and there is no better dish he can deliver to Vhagar than human flesh.

➤ Aemond's love for you is enhanced by having his firstborn in his arms, Visenya Targaryen, a baby girl who has your beauty aside from her lilac eyes and Aemond's signature bright white hair. Little one who I assure you will always be in her father's arms, while he admires her beauty like a mesmerized man.

➤ Aemond knew it from the beginning, you are the woman of his dreams, the woman who only has eyes for him and will always have her arms open for him when he needs you.

[tumblingxelian]

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - The Traumatized Time Traveler

Summary: Enid watches as her new roommate stares her down, glassy eyes wide as she offers her hand, the words "Wednesday Friday Addams," Escaping her mouth in an almost pained whisper.

Smiling brightly she grasps it, not too firmly given Wednesday looks like she might be bowled over by a stiff breeze and she cheerily greets her.

"I'm so glad you're here Wednesday, I'm Enid asiménio oíko Sinclair."

Her gaze flickered to the adults and she could only wonder...

Why were they giving Wednesday such shocked stares?

Concept:

Wednesday failed. Everyone died, even if Crackstone was killed there was no one left to celebrate just a mass of cooling corpses beneath the Blood Moon.

Goody, uses a back up plan involving all the energy from the recently dead Outcasts, the forests she cursed and Blood Moon to send Wednesday back.

But this means she is no longer around and Wednesday... Well the experience has kind of broken her. What's more the story is told entirely from the outsider point of view of other characters.

Her confidence has basically been destroyed by having been played so deeply and failed so terribly. She's being eaten alive by guilt from the past life and by her indecision born of trauma in this new life.

She believes she will go insane, possibly soon because she has lost access to her ancestors. She is suffering ghost pains for wounds she never got specifically in her hand, stomach and head, which can be debilitating.

Let alone the unwilling mutism which emerges when she feels overwhelmed, or the stray panic attacks and shut downs when confronted by people like Tyler or Thornhill.

Wednesday knows who the enemy is and what their plan is, but she's so fractured that anytime she tries to take action she starts shutting down.

Worse still she takes all of this to be curses so even the stuff that psychologically or medication could help with is off the table at first.

From Enid's perspective her roommate is just like, this extremely delicate and not very expressive psychic who she becomes incredibly protective of from like minute 1.

Thing is trying to decode how or why Wednesday suffered such a violent shift in personality. He believes its visions but can that alone explain it?

Also Wednesday's trauma doesn't only manifest in her being more fragile.

I have this idea in mind where after her first therapy session (Which goes better) Weems tries to take her out for coffee to bond. She does not grasp how desperately Wednesday wants to avoid this until she was briefly separated from her and Wednesday either shuts down or legs it to the car when confronted by Tyler and his dad.

Cue Wednesday returning to her empty rom room and having a world class destructive meltdown. One where she destroys a ton of her own possessions in a rage before collapsing when Enid finds her, falling into a panic attack at the thought of her leaving,

Enid ends up having to coax her through it with Kinbott on the phone before basically keeping Wednesday snuggled in her lap for the next few hours. Which also involves a lot of self loathing spilling out as she vents about how "Broken" and "Not meant to be this way" she is.

Some other factors include:

Enid being set off by Thornhill early on cos the woman is insistent on barging into their room to "Greet Wednesday" despite Enid telling her she's gone to bed & generally being kind of pushy.

This ad her discussion with Thing once Thornhill has been harried out of the room and forced to give them both detentions before Wednesday fell asleep again, reminds Enid of some near forgotten history with the teacher.

Namely of she and Thornhill having once been very close but going past her boundaries with stuff like, "Maybe I can help you wolf out?" only to grow very distant when Enid said she had to contact her pack elders to discuss any medical treatments.

Basically, Enid was Thornhills first pick for "Pet monster" but while Enid lacked a good support network in family she has a strong sense of cultural loyalty to the pack & is subtly leery of humans.

The West Wolf Packs also did not approve of some human pushing in on one of theirs. Weems obscured it as mere cultural ignorance and the diverse cultural and psychological developments of Outcasts mean the grooming attempts were not quite picked up on.

Rowan probably hangs around longer as a threat or maybe avoids death, which only enchances ENid's protectiveness and presents a constant underlying danger.

Xavier's also much worse here because Wednesday isn't outright hostile to him thanks to the trauma and her guilt. Thus he feels that the only thing keeping him & Wednesday apart is Enid + Yoko/Bianca when Enid's not around.

Weems and the Addams do try to intervene and speculate on why Wednesday changed so much, most think some kind of traumatic vision response.

Morticia: We grew so worried that there was hushed talk of seeking to cancel her arrival at Nevermore and seek some other deal with the courts. But when Wednesday heard our concern it was like it lit a fire in her little black heart again she raged at being treated so delicately. I had hoped this a passing thing because of that, but it seems the wound is deeper than I realized.

Chapters:

I have more chapters in mind for this but in broad strokes:

Chapter 1: Enid is very excited if a touch nervous to meet her new roomie & find Wednesday to be a fragile and shy girl who needs space from crowds during the tour. They communicate by sign for a bit and Enid gets a version of the Piranha story and promises to set the record on Wednesday straight with her just protecting family and not killing. Wednesday is also subtly clingy and clearly very tried.

Enid skips the rest of class to help Wednesday set up their room, and discovers her shaking hand and helps sooth it thanks to her own nerve endings being unique due to the claws. Wednesday has an early night but Thornhill pushes in (Acting off outdated info on Wednesday's personality) and tries to make her feel 'special'

This only serves to panic Wednesday and she's borderline forced out of the room by Enid. She ends up giving her detention which does make Wednesday act, demanding she have one too. Thornhill plans to use said detention to try 'bonding stage 2' and agrees. Wednesday is coaxed back to sleep then Enid finds Thing and they chat and agree Thornhill feels sketchy.

Chapter 2: Wednesday's sleep is obviously quite troubled so even with an early night she doesn't seem super rested. But she joins Enid for breakfast and exchanges class info with Yoko & Divina who subtly agree to keep an eye on her in classes Enid does not share.

Enid needs to leave to speak with Weems and manages to basically char the principle into letting them off detention by being very careful with her words. This being one of the reasons Weems felt Enid would be a good room mate for Wednesday too.

While this was happening however Xavier approached Wednesday with his little spider drawing. Divina & Yoko's pre-existing relationship and Wednesday's seeming acceptance made them at first allow it. But it became clear he was making her uncomfortable and getting way to into her space and ignoring their attempts to make him leave.

Then Enid returns and jams her claws into the spider and in swiping the sketchpad off the table places her other claws at Xavier's throat moments before he could start properly yelling.

"Oh sorry!" Her voice is stretched thin like a dying man's scream, "I was trying to swat an uninvited pest." Her lips pull back unnaturally far revealing every pointed fang, "Want to give me a fleshier target?"

Suffice to say Xavier pisses off, but will return to continue being awful. Enid is worried she scared Wednesday but she instead the girl seems very relieve.

There is actually still a fencing match with Bianca and it actually goes on for awhile. Wednesday gets the first round (Thanks to knowing how Bianca will move) But Bianca picks up on the fact Wednesday was not reading her moves & goes full chaotic, and gets the second point. Then they fuel for the third for awhile before Bianca wins and they go off to wash off.

While in the showers though Bianca finds Wednesday's ghost pains playing up though they are not the reason for her loss but we see they confuse and distress her a lot and that she thinks they are a curse not trauma. Bianca is very much not hostile to Wednesday in this who is intern not hostile.

Chapter 3: Wednesday's therapy session with Kinbott goes better than canon. Her guilt over the woman's death does make her talk a little. Plus the negative reputation of Outcasts compounded with the circumstances of the attack (Pugsley) and Wednesday's delicate disposition lead Kinbott to think the reports were all exaggerating her behavior.

Weems takes her to the Weathervane and Wednesday struggles to speak to protest. Because Weems is there the pilgrim boys are not an issue. However Tyler gets a call to the Weathervane from Thornhill as ;apparently; Weems's phone is not working.

He uses this to try and approach Wednesday about a 'rumor' ad then his dad arrives to be all aggressive and posturing. Weems returns to either escort a near catatonic Wednesday out or to find she is basically huddled up in the car outside.

Wednesday returns to her room and has the ensuing meltdown with Weems calling Kinbott for advice. Enid forces her way in and terrified of Enid leaving her Wednesday both starts crying and having a panic attack. After that was soothed and it was promised Galpin would be kept far away from her (With Weems promising to look into his 'nonsense claims) Wednesday stays with Enid and gets the first good nights sleep she had in awhile.

They also have a little talk with Wednesday feeling worthless because she "Cannot do what she needs to" and Enid assuring her she doesn't need to do anything to deserve love. Which Wednesday returns regarding her transformation. Suffice to say, Enid s very adoring of her.

Also Rowan has likely made at least one murder attempt at this point.

Chapter 4: The school day goes well save for some 'accidents' and Wednesday has so far managed to avoid Thornhill who has been updated on Wednesday's disposition and is trying to re-calculate her strategy.

Wednesday also joins the Hummers and is very, very insistent Eugene never enter the forest alone. EVER.

The main focus is actually the harvest festival and cos she slept well Wednesday is closer to normal though be it still clingy with Enid and trying to be a bit more communicative with Yoko & Divina too.

Wednesday: Why does a town without farms have a harvest festival?

Enid: Oh I know this one! Basically, about 200 years ago, the land across the rver where Nevermore is built came ot life. Within a few weeks the forests had grown devouring fields and houses.

Divina: Naturally Outcasts were blamed, as though the land obeys our every whim.

Yoko: Though it could have been some ancient curse coming to life, or just the earth waking up. My Sire hints at this stuff but I won't know till I ascend.

Enid: Yhe point is, the town lost most of its farms and a collection of Outcasts with wealth bought the land, warded it and built Nevermore. Since then Jericho had to move away from farming and into other stuff, like tourist attractions and big game hunting.

Wednesday: I see... (Takes bite of hot dog) A rather apt microcosm of Americas evolution into a theme park dedicated to itself then.

All three laugh.

Tyler shows up again to try and give Wednesday a police report but gets chased off by the girls, but Wednesday 'has' a vision it was a police file about her father

They go om the Ferris wheel while Weems goes to speak with Galpin and there's some talked of calling Galpin with a false tip to see if he is obsessed with Wednesday's dad.

Small town cop is super bigggoted and has an agenda is much easier for them to buy than a monster murdering a guy they saw being alive. Rowan may make some attempts but does not succeed but there's definitely a sense Wednesday is in danger. Bianca may help.

Chapter 5: I have less clear ideas on this, but Wednesday's sessions with Kinbott continue. The general consensus is that Tyler's dad has some beef with Wednesday's. Also there is some subtle guiding towards investigating certain events that will be plot relevant later.

Also Wednesday helps the team with the Po-Cup perhaps. Not sure if she goes ahead t lay traps, or Yoko is snuck onto the island, or if Wednesday just alters the ship. Though I do love the idea of Enid fist fighting a Siren underwater and winning. Also Rowan may use this for another attempt.

After that things grow a bit more vague, hence my not writing it.

Note:

One thing I like exploring is Outcasts actually being, ya know, hated and feared and how this would inform and influence even perky characters like Enid.

Also Wednesday low key may fear Enid likes this version of her better. But does also know how far Enid went for her in the original timeline.

Though yeah she is low key dependent on Enid who doesn't quite realize it or know how to fix it and just wants to protect her.

[tonowarii]

Hi can I request a Neteyam imagine where his female mate comes back from a forest hunt with Neytiri injured and bleeding and he gets upset as he wasn’t there to help. So instead he takes her to the water to help her clean her cuts and help her clean her body but innocently. She realises that he keeps his hands on her and doesn’t want to let go so she turns around and asks him if he was okay and he starts to tear up a little because he could’ve lost her, so she pulls him close rubbing his back in comfort. She takes him to Eywa to spend sometime listening to the ancestors and then they both cuddle up to each with him holding her in his arms very closely falling asleep. Thanks 😊

this made my heart soft ueueue

Not to Blame

Pairing: Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x Fem! Omatikaya! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warning/s: mentions of injury, fluff, sad neteyam :(, comfort

“(Y/N)!” You hear Neytiri call for you as you laid on the grass, parts of your body stung.

You blink back, Neytiri’s voice almost sounding muffled as she lifts you up. “Are you okay?”

It took you a while to speak but you nod, coughing.

You decided to go out and capture your own kill, but things turned sideways as you had encountered a pack of viper wolves, barely making it out alive as you suffered a few cuts and scratches.

“We’re going back home, can you ride on your ikran?” Neytiri asked you.

Neytiri had been like a second mother to you, all thanks to Neteyam. She had taken a liking to you after Neteyam told her that he was courting you, up till now when you two were already mates. She treated you like her daughter, so seeing you in this state stressed her.

“I can, I can do it.” You said, sitting up. You were a tough person to kill, you weren’t going to let a few viper wolves hinder your strength.

Neytiri frowns, placing a hand on your shoulder before placing it on your head. “Let’s go.”

While Neteyam busied himself in High Camp with his tasks, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wrong had happened. He couldn’t contain himself as he ended up snapping a few barks due to his state.

His ears then perked up hearing the horn. The hunters were back, that meant you were back. But why was it so early?

That only further fueled his nerves as he drops his work, turning on his heel to sprint towards the landing dock.

“They’re back, mama is back!” Tuktirey shouted, running alongside Neteyam.

But the crowd forming around them had Neteyam pushing through bodies, until his eyes finally spot you.

It was a sight that made his heart drop.

You hopped off your ikran, almost tripping on your feet on the way, he catches you successfully, hands cupping your face and looking at your injuries, assessing each one from worst to least worse.

“My son.” Neytiri said, making Neteyam look at his mother. “Mother what happened?”

“She went out and I heard them shouting for her...” Neytiri explained.

“I’m taking her to Kiri, move!”

You leaned against Neteyam, not having the energy to move as fatigue settled in and your muscles ached.

The people around him split, creating a path as he carried you in his arms, eyes darting to find the direction towards the healers tent.

“Kiri! Grandma!”

His mind was running as he looks to you, your eyes closed as your head leaned on his shoulder. “Hey, hey.” Neteyam gives you a small shake.

“Mhmhm...Teyam?” You murmur. “Yes, it’s me.” He says, eyes never leaving your face.

“Just wanna- wanna rest.” You say. The tent was empty.

Neteyam grunts in frustration, now carrying you towards his tent. He carefully sets you down the bed. Your body was littered with dirt and he couldn’t see your wounds clearly.

“Teyam.” You speak up, now having the energy. “Hey, can you walk? I’ll clean you up, that sound good?”

A hot bath really sounded good right now.

You nod, standing up and leaning against Neteyam. “Here.” He wraps his arm around your waist, feeling your weight on him. His thoughts still clouding his mind seeing you beaten.

Neteyam carefully walks you towards a spot he knew. He guides you down, body submerged under the hot spring.

You sigh in relief, turning to face him. “Thank you, ‘Teyam.”

He gave you a tight lipped smile, frowning before he starts to clean your body up, starting with your face. Down to your chest, to your shoulders. Every cut he came across adds another pang to his heart.

Stupid, he should’ve been there to protect you. Maybe if he was there you wouldn’t have to be wincing in pain as he softly rubs on your arms.

“Turn around for me, my love.” He says to you, placing a soft kiss on the side of your head before you turned your back to him.

Neteyam could already see the scars forming. He frowns further, hands going up to your shoulders to softly massage then before cleaning downwards.

But with every touch you felt him do, it lingered. You could feel his fingers ghost over every scratch you earned. You could feel how he hesitates before gently cleaning the spot.

And you knew he was thinking of a hundred things he could’ve done to prevent it.

You feel his movements stop, signaling that he was done. You turned to face him again, his eyes were casted downwards, eyeing his reflection.

You step closer to him, holding both his arms in your hands, sliding up to his neck, to his face.

“Teyam, hey.. Talk to me.” You speak up, stroking his cheeks. When his eyes moved towards yours, you could see how it glossed over, tears threatening to spill as he clenched his jaw.

You frowned as his tears finally rolled down his cheeks. “I should’ve been there.”

“No, ‘Teyam… whatever happened, happened. Okay? You don’t have to blame yourself, you weren’t there.” You say, pulling him close and placing a soft kiss on his nose.

“But I could’ve-“

“Hush now. You won’t lose me.” You spoke, your arms wrapping around him, rubbing his back. Neteyam’s forehead laid itself on your shoulder, feeling you close.

You quickly thought of a way to possibly cheer him up.

“I have an idea.” You pulled him away, looking at him. He sniffles, his own hand coming up to rub his eyes.

“You need to rest.” Neteyam said.

“No, I won’t rest until I’ve cheered you up, baby.” You say smiling up at him.

Neteyam thinks for a moment, before sighing in defeat. “Okay, but let me patch you up first.”

After you had settled into new clothes and having been patched up by Neteyam, you were now holding his hand, going to the place that never fails to bring you comfort.

The Tree of Voices.

You laugh, dragging Neteyam with you. He had a small smile on his face hearing your laughter as you both walked through the pathway.

You then stop after a few moments, facing him.

“Here.” You say to him, offering one of the many vines as it leaned towards the two of you. Neteyam looks at you before grabbing his queue, holding it up.

You smile, grabbing your own queue and holding up a vine of your own, holding it towards until it connected.

Neteyam does the same, and instantly his ears was filled with laughter, his ancestors. He could hear them singing and celebrating as he closed his eyes.

You watched Neteyam, listening to your own ancestors with a smile.

Neteyam opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is you, how the pink glow of the tendril complimented your skin, and even more, your smile made you glow even more.

His grin begins to widen, his tail swaying behind him in a content manner.

After listening to them and making Neteyam feel better, you both had found a spot to yourselves. Neteyam holding you as you laid your head on his chest.

You could feel Neteyam’s lips press themselves to your head. You breathed out deeply, nuzzling yourself closer to him. His arms squeezed around you.

Neteyam stayed holding you, until his ears picked up on your soft snoring. He smiles, leaning his cheek to the side of your head before he also finds himself drifting off to sleep.