#also no shade on anyone who likes love never dies

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[gothicrazor]

Anything for you [P1]

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me 😔

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

[tteokdoroki]

Aali!!!! I was gonna put this in the tags of your training scenario but got shy :(

but i immediately thought of Gojo!! And like he's not surprised you flipped him over due to you're strength, he has no doubts about how strong you are but it's the fact that he trusts you so much he unconsciously turned off his infinity for you <3 so now he's like !!!!!! because what!!!! but also you're on top of him and you look so pretty so now he's short circuiting double the amount!!!!

Like !!!!!!!! my brain is going crazy thinking about it - 🍓

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. neither strong, nor weak - just in love.

about. combat training with gojo makes him realise just how strong you really are. inspired by this silly post i made yesterday, it wasn’t meant to become a whole thing but it did and now it’s…sad. im sorry. also pls don’t be shy ily :(

warnings. minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, mutual pining, slightly unrequited romance, mentions of violence (they’re combat training), death mention, canon!verse, gn!reader.

you’re pissed. 

over the years satoru’s seen a colourful array of emotions splayed against your features. he’s seen joy, laughter, happiness — all of which are his favourites. he wishes he could have seen them more. but also sadness, anguish and a pain so deep he felt like he was dying right alongside you. 

he’s died once before, nearly, but it never could have compared to the feeling he got when you looked at him with pure hatred. because gojo had been the one to hurt you, then. 

you’ve never been one to hold grudges, you’re too good of a person for the world to hold anyone in such a negative light for way too long — but when you do experience these emotions, you feel them all too much and all too hard and everyone can see it too. maybe that’s why gojo picks up on your spike of anger so easily during training today, it could be the sick reason behind how much he’s enjoying you being pissed off too.  

because you wear your heart on your sleeve and your emotions on your face, so gojo knows exactly how he makes you feel — all of the time. “c’mon sweetheart, don’t lose focus. don’t you wanna beat me?” he taunts you, a cocky smile stretched over his lips as he dodges each of your blows, though the shades over his eyes hide the admiration he has for you.  

“fuck you.” you spit back harshly, as if the words scald your tongue. shifting your weight onto your back foot, you take a chance and swing your leg up high, just narrowly missing the silvery mop of satoru’s hair where his infinity goes up to protect him. 

for gojo, it’s easy for things to lose their meaning, slipping away from him like fine grains of sand through his fingers. at times when he should, he finds himself without a care — it’s easier to walk through life not giving a shit than to tie emotions to actions, people and places. if the strongest cares too much then people have to die. that’s why the wielder of the six eyes holds you to such high regards. you’re strong because you’re able to care — no matter what’s in your path or who might stand in your way, and what they might make you feel, you are able to be strong for those in need. 

you feel what satoru can’t. 

“i’ve been waiting all day for that, honey.” he quips back, lifting his shades just a little to bare the full brunt of your aura through his technique. “c’mon, let’s put in a little more effort, shall we? if i were a curse, you’d be dead by now.” 

everything gojo sees is magnified by one hundred, he could detect the smallest of changes no matter how close or far he was from you — and being able to witness frustration build up in your core along with stacks of your cursed energy elicits a pleasant reaction out of him. his head flops to the side, almost bored, despite how the corner of his lips quirk up into a lopsided grin. satoru loves how you’re just teeming with anger, from the top of your head right down to your toes ��� spreading into your fingertips as your cursed energy balls powerfully around your fist. 

and even though he catches it between his larger hands, the thin invisible veil of his infinity quite literally stopping you from killing gojo — he can still feel that you’re pouring your all into this, into him. even though you’re tired and dripping with sweat while your muscles burn so hot you fear they might melt away, you’re still trying. you still won’t give up. you’re still stronger than he ever could be. 

and he’s practically a god. 

“you would be the dead one if you didn’t have the cheat code to life.” rolling your shoulders, you step back with a menacing snarl and start again — fists flying in the direction of the six eyes as you’re  fuelled by the passion of taking him down. making him hurt. people like gojo piss you off, their existence serving as a reminder that your life is not promised and every step you take is a sacrifice to help them live on. though deep down, you know that you don’t hate him for it. it’s nothing that he could have helped. 

once again, satoru snags your fist before it can even leave a mark on him and draws you in by his infinity. for a moment, you’re scared that he might use it to repel you, harm you  — he catches the flicker of fear in your eyes before you steel your nerves and keep on fighting even as he grabs at your wrists, sweeps your feet out from underneath you and pins you to the hard ground below. 

leaning over your frame as you squirm beneath him, gojo tuts down at you in faux disappointment. “so sad, and here i was, thinking that you were strong enough to beat me.” he says, cruelly. “give up already, princess.” 

in response, you bare your fangs and dig your nails into his wrists — not letting up. “i’ll give up when you’ve killed me.” 

that makes satoru falter. 

it’s only training, really, it shouldn’t even be that serious. but his mind can’t shake the idea of one day sacrificing you for the good of others. for everyone satoru gojo has ever cared about, there has been a day where he has to choose between letting them meet their end and protecting the jujutsu world. that’s the way it’s always been and always will be. it’s not that he thinks you’re weak, that you can’t handle yourself — you’ve proven yourself capable of that time and time again. you’re strong, physically and resilient in your emotions, mentally but you’re only human.

and humans don’t last as long as gods do. 

seizing the opportunity at hand, you squeeze your thighs around satoru’s slender waist to switch your situation and rip your wrists free from his steady iron grip. so now, your positions are reversed, and he’s the one with his arms above his head — exposing all of his vulnerable vital organs. he could have easily kept himself in control and have you squirming below him for hours, but he lets you. he trusts you enough to let you prove yourself to him — just so he can have that moment, that lets you know that the great satoru gojo is not immune to the likes of you. 

he is weak for you. 

his infinity slips away unconsciously just as his back his the the floor with a dull thud — wisps of his snow white hair flying about the place with the motion. satoru lays still beneath you, unmoving like a tree rooted to its spot, and peers up at you through the thickness of his lashes. he watches how you try to control your surprise and how shocked you are at yourself for pinning him down — truth being told that if he didn’t have infinity to hide behind, if he was human, you probably would have been able to from the start. 

“think again,” you breathe, the dip in your voice doing nothing to help satoru’s crazed mind and how insane he is for you. “princess.”

you’re so pretty like this. your eyes are frenzied and and astonished, your chest heaves with every breath you take in desperation to fill your lungs with air and your skin shines with light perspiration from your training. and even then, to satoru, you’re the most precious form of life he’s ever seen. a rarity amongst unpolished gems. every emotion you have right now is laid bare against your features, coursing through your veins and it’s because of him. 

it’s nice like this, to feel weak in the knees and in the heart for someone. to be able to feel your pulse rather than see it as nothing but a flicker of a blue flame with blue eyes. 

he wants to touch you, subconsciously reaching out to brush a thumb over your cheek. “you’re so beautiful.” satoru whispers, his voice low and uneven — causing goosebumps to rise over the expanse of your skin and a soft gasp to lay wet on your lips. 

exasperated tears begin to well up in your eyes, sitting pretty in your lower lash line. you’re so angry at gojo and how you think he sees you but you don’t dare to push his hand away, instead turning your head to look elsewhere. you don’t want him to see you cry. 

“turn your infinity back on. i could kill you.” 

“you’re beautiful,” satoru repeats adamantly, not caring if he sounds like a broken record. “you’re strong. stronger than me.” you’re pissed at him too , for looking down at you. for all the things he’s said that hurt you without meaning to. your grip on his wrists loosen along with your hold on your emotions. “i wish i could be weak enough to love you.”

“i said turn it back on, gojo.” 

“look at me, please.” 

“gojo.” 

“please.” 

your shoulders sag with a shaky exhale, all of the fight you had leaving you as you sit on top of him — looking down at him. “what?” comes your quiet mumble, not daring to flinch away as his thumb traces over your bottom lip without the gentle hum of his infinity.

“i love you.” 

if you were at any other point in time, satoru’s words would have had you melting over him like butter in a pan. you would have been weak enough to say it back and let him overwhelm you with longing. because if this were any other point in time, you would have needed satoru gojo like you needed air to breathe. like you needed him to live. 

but things are different now, there’s a concrete wall built around your heart to fortify it and you’ve grown to become immune to him. like gojo says, you are strong and while you know that you always have been — hearing him admit that makes you realise you don’t want to prove your worth to him anymore. 

you would much rather have him kill you instead. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[aphroditeinthesea]

hi!! Could I request a annabeth x fem!reader where they are hanging out in readers bed and like annabeth is yapping and reader is just laying with her head in annabeth’s lap looking at her with adoration

“ ur my lullaby ”

annabeth chase x fem!reader 🦉

spending a rainy day with annabeth chase

⚠️ hunger games spoilers

✩₊˚.⋆ ⛆ ⋆⁺₊✧

Although most people, if asked, would say how much they loved their bed, or couch, perhaps a hammock in the sun’s heat. However, if you asked y/n, there was no place more comfortable than laying in Annabeth Chase's lap. Especially on rainy days like this one. Although rain in Camp Half-Blood was a rare occurrence, sometimes, Zeus was having a bad day and needed to take it out on the demigods, which was how Annabeth had wound up in her girlfriend’s cabin.

“I finished reading Mockingjay,” Annabeth began as her girlfriend made herself comfortable.

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth sighed, beginning to twirl her fingers in y/n’s hair, “it was incredible, you should read it.”

“I’ll see it when the movie comes out,” y/n replied, causing the other girl to roll her eyes, “but how did it end?”

Her heart soared at the way her lover’s eyes beamed as she spoke about it, “remember how I was telling you about Finnick,” y/n nodded, “he died, in this awful way. I mean, he got his head bitten off by this-”

“Ew, Beth, what?”

“You didn't let me finish.”

“He got his head bitten off, that's all I need to know.”

Annabeth just laughed, looking down, “okay, fine. But then Prim also died-”

“No way.”

“It was so sad,” she added, “what happened was that,” this was when y/n suddenly noticed the shade of a deeper blue that surrounded her girlfriend’s pupils. The way it contrasted with the rest of the gray. It reminded her of the sky when a storm was coming in on a beautiful day. She even started to wonder if anyone else had ever noticed this. It was something that you really had to stare into her eyes to see it, she almost felt special being able to observe the colors.

“Are you listening?”

Not at all.

“Of course, babe.”

“What did I just say then?”

“The thing about Prim.”

“Yeah?”

“You're so pretty.”

Annabeth smiled, a blush finding a way to her cheeks, “so are you.”

“I love you.”

She brushed some hair out of y/n’s face. “I love you, too,” she whispered softly “what were you thinking about?”

“Your eyes.”

She giggled, “my eyes.”

“Yeah, I never met anyone else with gray eyes,” she leaned her hands up, brushing her thumb against her girlfriend’s cheekbone, just below her eye, “they’re so lovely.”

Annabeth laid her hand on top of y/n’s, “thank you.” They just stayed like that for who knows how long. Just staring into each other's eyes, enjoying the other’s company. The rain patting at the windows was the only sound outside of the two heartbeats.

“You really should read more.”

Y/N smiled, “what’s the point if I know you’ll just tell me everything about a book anyway?”

Annabeth pressed a kiss to her forehead, “good point.”

As Annabeth continued on with her ramblings, y/n just watched her mouth move with adoration. It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep in the one place she loved to be most.

[koshiaoi]

More sif from In Galaxies And Eons, he gets a bit worn-out whenever he loops.

My hc is he is affected by the craft exhaustion way more than normal sif, by way more I mean while in the loops, and that's because it's not just local to Vaugarde and is instead just reversing time completely! But his body does still feel the effects of it harshly, as each time he dies the scar on his cheek and the black bits of his hair, hat, and the inside of his clothes gains another star. All the black bits slowly turn a dark blue! Just cuz I wanna and I love blue.

If anyone is wondering, the scar on his cheek he got from loop, this loop spent way longer in the time loops than the original loop (around 10k I think?) And doesn't really talk to siffrin because of this. Loop attacked sif because he wanted to replace him and get back his actors.

From everyone else's perspective, they were a few days before they got to dormant and were taking a break when they heard sif scream, they rushed over and saw him almost dead being attacked by a "sadness" that somehow could talk? They hear it say something about ripping his skin off and replacing him, at which point they were able to save sif. Frightening loop, causing them to run away. Isa and odile noticed something in its eyes though... a weird shade that gave them a visceral feeling.

Bonnie wouldn't be able to leave sifs side after this, as they were told that he was 'just going to take a nap' and he ended up getting attacked. So bonnie sees this and knows that they can't leave the rest of the party anymore, but what's worse about it is that even though frin looks half dead, they're not bleeding, like at all. Instead, every scratch and wound is this weird back nothingness, which is even more reason to not let him alone ever again!

Mira tries her best to heal him, but nothing happens, almost like its permanent damage, like its scars, which stress her out even more! The person who she thought she could trust with her life is now badly injured because of her! If she just didn't ask him to come along, he would never have gotten hurt! It's all her fault! Its-

And isa would hide his true feelings about the entire thing, just trying to cheer sif up by telling him how cool he is for being able to hold his own against that sadness, they that couldn't even damage... wait what? Why couldn't they damage it? Why could only sif damage it? Well that doesn't matter! Sif looks really cool now! He tries his best to help out the freaking out siffrin.

Odile on the other hand would take that thought and run with it. When she saw that when they tried to attack the sadness, not only did it not flinch, like at all, it's form also didn't even react! No small bits of water, nothing. And then there's the fact that whatever it did to siffrin is permanent and can't be healed, what it said was weird to, not to mention that IT COULD TALK? No something wasn't right here... they should really talk to siffrin later.

Yes! I am using some headcannons for this! Specifically the loop appeared before the loops and was just hiding, the loop being sap!sif but I made him worse, and one thing that's just true, is that odile will know that isa also saw the weird thing and will talk to them about it and everything.

[atopvisenyashill]

that bit about joffrey is FASCINATING have you ever written about this in depth? I've always loved his character but I would never be able to like. Describe why exactly he is the way he is so I really appreciate your analysis of him loving BOTH parents and incorporating only their flaws - I always just assumed that he hates his dad and is annoyed by cersei (still loves her) but then the way we sexually humiliates and abuses sansa etc is so robert-coded like of course he emulates the bevavior of his father.

Also slightly off topic but i always forget that Joffrey is like canonically so good at all the proper princely things (thinking of that scene at Sansa and Tyrion's wedding when she's so upset that a monster like Joff could be so good at dancing) and - not to go on about GOT again - but I wish we had actually gotten to see that and him being charming etc. Huge props to the show for giving Joff the perfect wardrobe (the only thing they did right) but also f them for waiting all that potential

yes, they really said joff gets to have all the swag and then the moment he died they put cersei in that fuck ass bob and no one in the lannisters was allowed to serve again smh. and thank youuu i actually had to stop myself from rambling over him before haha, but i'll go into more detail here! so this was the comment from the other post-

joffrey is a kid just ruled by his first, most base instinct. his instincts, his core emotions, tell him to love and trust both robert and cersei, and imo he twists himself into a MONSTER to try to appeal to both of them. no one else matters - not his siblings, not his uncle, not his grandfather, not the realm. he needs to be the sort of vicious person they could both be proud of, he needs to be better than them both at violence, so he absorbs all of their faults and none of their virtues.

i definitely do see very often that people feel he only loves one or the other parent and while I do understand that reading, I don't think it's quite how Joffrey operates. I think he does love them both, and holds them both in high esteem. I do agree that he's annoyed by Cersei but that doesn't mean he doesn't value her opinion (as much as Joffrey puts value on anyone else's opinion, I mean).

Joffrey and Cersei

Joffrey relies on his mother more than almost any other male character we see in the series. We see him call for Cersei basically every time he's hurt, in trouble, or wanting to whine about something. Not only that, but you have everyone from Robert to Renly to Tywin himself saying that Joffrey is doted upon and inseparable from his mother. A few choice quotes:

"Fear is better than love, Mother says." Joffrey pointed at Sansa. "She fears me."

He takes Cersei's lessons to heart, however flawed they are. Her opinion matters to him, he wants her to see him as strong.

Nine cases out of ten seemed to bore him; those he allowed his council to handle, squirming restlessly while Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, or Queen Cersei resolved the matter. When he did choose to make a ruling, though, not even his queen mother could sway him.

It's Cersei he listens to the most. We know that if a little King, even with his mother as Regent, doesn't want to deal with her, he can simply ignore her - that's what Jaehaerys does with Alyssa, after all. But Joffrey doesn't do this; he'll fight with her, he'll insult her, and he's not shy about doing it in public but he never disregards her out of hand.

Joffrey lurched to his feet. "I'm king! Kill him! Kill him now! I command it." He chopped down with his hand, a furious, angry gesture . . . and screeched in pain when his arm brushed against one of the sharp metal fangs that surrounded him. The bright crimson samite of his sleeve turned a darker shade of red as his blood soaked through it. "Mother!" he wailed.

His instinct, every time, is to turn to her for help. He loves her. He adores her. She's the only person around who tells him he's strong and smart and will be a good king. He leans on her for guidance, for comfort, he talks to her about fucking whores. He shares everything with her because he doesn't have a single friend. She models anger and violence for him constantly, she excuses his disturbing proclivities, so he molds himself to be the person she wants him to be, the king she wants him to be. People - including Tyrion and Tywin! - are always wondering why Cersei is blind to his cruelty, but the reality is she knew he was cruel and loved him for it.

Tommen did as he was bid. His meekness troubled her. A king had to be strong. Joffrey would have argued. He was never easy to cow.

For Cersei, cruelty is strength and in her eyes, Joffrey is as strong as they come. This isn't by accident; just like his constant cries for her are reinforced by her rushing to coddle him, his cruelty is reinforced by a mother who sees it as strength. It's almost like what Coldhands says to Bran - Joffrey is a monster, yes, but in Cersei's eyes, Joffrey is her monster.

Joffrey and Robert

Joffrey had never had a close friend of his own age, that she recalled. The poor boy was always alone. I had Jaime when I was a child . . . and Melara, until she fell into the well. Joff had been fond of the Hound, to be sure, but that was not friendship. He was looking for the father he never found in Robert.

From Cersei's point of view, I think she knows very well that Joffrey is searching for love, acceptance, and himself in Robert. She doesn't like it, but she seems to accept that it's natural for Joffrey to search for some sort of father figure, and doesn't seem to begrudge him that - imo, I think because she knows Robert is always going to reject Joffrey for his cruelty.

“Why would he [care]? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I’d allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I’d kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things…”

Whenever they interact, the few times they do, there's violence. People always take this as Cersei not allowing Robert to "teach" or "properly discipline" Joffrey but, well...does the above seem like helpful discipline? Knocking out your child because he freaked you out? Punishing extreme violence with more extreme violence? And it's not just Cersei that this moment sticks with, because Stannis brings it up as well-

"Joffrey . . . I remember once, this kitchen cat . . . the cooks were wont to feed her scraps and fish heads. One told the boy that she had kittens in her belly, thinking he might want one. Joffrey opened up the poor thing with a dagger to see if it were true. When he found the kittens, he brought them to show to his father. Robert hit the boy so hard I thought he'd killed him."

Since Cersei says Robert would "say things" and we see him threatening Cersei (the "or I'll honor you again" line), I don't think it's a stretch to say that Robert threatened to beat Joffrey nearly to death several times over.

And yet...Joffrey compliments his father, especially in comparison to his other relatives.

He wrenched free of her. "Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock." The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. "A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk."

And Cersei believes this came from Robert-

"Father, I am sorry," Cersei said, when the door was shut. "Joff has always been willful, I did warn you . . ." "There is a long league's worth of difference between willful and stupid. 'A strong king acts boldly?' Who told him that?" "Not me, I promise you," said Cersei. "Most like it was something he heard Robert say . . ."

And of course, Jaime is the one who pieces together why Joffrey sent the catspaw-

“Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best. ‘We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children’ he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink.” Robert? Jaime had guarded the king long enough to know that Robert Baratheon said things in his cups that he would have denied angrily the next day. “Were you alone when Robert said this?” “You don’t think he said it to Ned Stark, I hope? Of course we were alone. Us and the children.” Cersei removed her hairnet and draped it over a bedpost, then shook out her golden curls. “Perhaps Myrcella sent this man with the dagger, do you think so?” It was meant as mockery, but she’d cut right to the heart of it, Jaime saw at once. “Not Myrcella. Joffrey.” Cersei frowned. “Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him. He was only a child himself .” “A child hungry for a pat on the head from that sot you let him believe was his father.”

When you put it all together, you have a child who is ignored by his father unless he's being threatened with a beating, who is constantly calling him a monster, who watches his father harm and humiliate his mother day in and day out, who has no other paternal figure around but this violent, angry man who he is supposed to model himself off of, and a mother who encourages his cruelty because she believes it's the only way to protect herself, to protect her son. He's not just emulating his mother's cruelty, he's emulating Robert's violence specifically when he humilates Sansa at court, when he openly talks shit about Cersei - it's what he's seen modeled for him as kingly behavior!

The Abuse And Jaime Of It All

King Joffrey's face hardened. "My mother tells me that it isn't fitting that a king should strike his wife. Ser Meryn."

He knows Robert is abusing Cersei and he takes her dislike of it seriously even as he doesn't make the connection that she means he shouldn't be striking his wife period. Whether it's because Cersei directly told him (which could make sense; she's purposefully hiding it from Jaime but perhaps she confided in Joffrey) or because he witnessed it himself, he's aware of the abuse enough that he takes his mother's comments about not personally striking Sansa to heart.

"No," [Robert] thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. Sansa was shocked to see the king on his feet, red of face, reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. "You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!" Everyone was staring. Sansa saw Ser Barristan, and the king's brother Renly, and the short man who had talked to her so oddly and touched her hair, but no one made a move to interfere. The queen's face was a mask, so bloodless that it might have been sculpted from snow. She rose from the table, gathered her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, servants trailing behind. Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. "The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer." He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. "Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!" Jaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. "As you say, Your Grace." His voice was stiff. Lord Renly came forward, smiling. "You've spilled your wine, Robert. Let me bring you a fresh goblet." Sansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. "It grows late," the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. "Do you need an escort back to the castle?"

I think it's pretty clear that Joffrey is dissociating here which also explains his very detached way of looking at Robert's abuse of Cersei. It freaks him out enough that he uses Sansa as an excuse to leave (giving her the Hound, then running off himself) but he doesn't show it. He's not even particularly upset during this scene, not throwing a tantrum or making whiny remarks like he does when he's usually upset. He only has a "queer look" - the stress of trying to reconcile his adoration of Robert and his love of Cersei just makes him fully shut down instead of confronting it.

Joffrey gave a petulant shrug. "Your brother defeated my uncle Jaime. My mother says it was treachery and deceit. She wept when she heard. Women are all weak, even her, though she pretends she isn't. She says we need to stay in King's Landing in case my other uncles attack, but I don't care. After my name day feast, I'm going to raise a host and kill your brother myself. That's what I'll give you, Lady Sansa. Your brother's head."

I think people often take his comments about how women are weak to mean he doesn't view his mother as a competent advisor. But you notice a pattern here - he gets shitty with her when it's about Jaime specifically.

"A great many people are sorry for that," Tyrion replied, "and before I am done, some may be a deal sorrier . . . yet I thank you for the sentiment. Joffrey, where might I find your mother?" "She's with my council," the king answered. "Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles."

"She's with my council" he says, because he sees no reason to not let Cersei run things without him, something Robert never lets her do. But "your brother Jaime" not "my uncle Jaime" which is a shift because he doesn't stop calling Renly or Stannis his uncles even after they rebel. He knows, he suspects, and what he resents is not Cersei fucking Jaime but Jaime fucking Cersei.

My read on this is that Joffrey sees his mother as weak for allowing herself to be seduced by Jaime, and sees Jaime as a lecherous seducer who is the cause of all his problems. If only Jaime hadn't seduced his mother, maybe his parents wouldn't hate each other. His claim wouldn't be under question. His mother should have just taken the abuse and bided her time instead of putting herself in danger and having bastards.

He loves his mother. He loves his father. And that's the human heart in conflict with itself that resides in Joffrey. Does he honor his mother, the only parent he has, or does he honor Robert, the patriarch he is supposed to emulate? If he has no other example of what strength looks like, is he even capable of figuring out a different path for himself?

[elliespuns]

There's a constant battle between the "Joel Miller apologists" and "Joel Miller critics" about whether he is or is not a bad person.

I think everything is not only black or white. I think Joel Miller is the exact illustration of being a unique mix of black and white, creating a fine shade of gray. 

As a Joel Miller apologist myself, I don't think saving Ellie was a bad thing. Do I think it was selfish? Yes. It doesn't mean it's bad, though. Sure, Ellie hated it, but she also made sure he learned his lesson when she let him taste just how unsatisfied she was with his decision. He literally paid for what he did with the most precious thing he had—he lost so much time with someone he loved more than his own life. It slipped between his fingers because he was being selfish, not bad.

That being said, Joel's decision back in the hospital was understandable, and even though it was controversial, he wasn't a bad person for choosing this way. He put the life of a person he loved too much above anyone else's, exactly as every parent would have. I'd be seriously questioning the goodness of his heart if he hadn't.

But the real question the parties involved like to fight about is whether Joel is a bad person or not in general.

I don't think Joel is an individual who can even be labeled good or bad. I stick with what I said—a perfect mix of black and white. There were times when nobody would consider Joel a good man, let alone himself. He did some things. Things we never got to know about but can only imagine how awful they had to be. He hurt, tortured, and killed people. No matter what reason he had to become the person he was after he lost his daughter, he certainly wasn't a good person at this part of his life. 

Although I also believe that if someone is a bad person by nature, they'd never admit it to themselves. Joel did. He acknowledged the fact that he did some pretty fucked-up shit.

I think that if Joel was a bad man, he'd never turn his life around to become the man he was always thriving to be. I don't think being bad was doing him any good. Yes, maybe it relieved some of the unimaginable and unbearable pain he felt after losing his child, but he hated himself in the process, so maybe, maybe being bad was hurting him more than those who watched him do it (Tommy).

Overall, I think Joel was a good person who never knew what being bad was like until his kid died in his arms. It changed the root of him. The circumstances of harsh reality changed his perception of life he was left to endure without the one thing he loved the most. Not being able to either live or kill himself, he started hurting (killing) others instead. He didn't care. He lost the ability to feel. He had nothing to lose, and with Tommy constantly being an obstacle in taking his own life (as I can imagine his brother would never leave his side back then to keep an eye on him), Joel became the exact opposite of what he could never be before the tragedy.

Then Ellie came into his life. Joel was trapped in a dark corner of his mind, and then the light appeared in the form of a girl who showed him the right way again. The goofy firecracker was a beam of light amid the darkness that kept surrounding him, and that was when Joel woke up from the dead and started to feel and observe again. Ellie was the reason why he slowly started becoming the man he was before Sarah. 

He had a past where he wasn't a good person; that's beyond dispute. But he surely did more good in his life than bad, and I think this speaks a lot about a person who became a complete mush of an individual at the end.

[littlespacereader]

Hello, I was wondering if you would write a fic on Agere Steddie (Steve <3 Eddie) from Stranger Things?

Prompt: Steve finds out what agere is (even though he's been doing it for years behind his parents backs) through Eddie who has been a caregiver for a while. He's been having an awful day. His car broke down so he has to call Eddie bc Robbie isn't answering her phone and he can't take it anymore. He regresses in Eddie's van on the way home, hugging his hoodie like a blanket because he doesn't have any stuffies on him.

(preferred additions not necessary but would be fun: Black paci in a plastic case from Eddies bag, Steve wearing a Scooby-Doo shirt or watching it on TV, Eddie calling him Prince or Bubs.) (also plz dont use the other word for baby cat its a trigger.)

(if you don't take this it's chill, also, take your time. You're appreciated and loved!!)

Thank you so much for your request! I saw this story and my heart melted! I’ve never written Steve as a Little and Eddie as a Caregiver before (I’ve written them swapped) but this was so fun to write a different side of them! I’ll definitely have to write more of them like this! I hope you don’t mind me making it themed to fall with the leaves and Halloween themed. I tried to incorporate everything you asked as well! I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the request! @broke-art-girl 💞💞

Rescuing The Prince🍂🎃

Caregiver! Eddie Munson & Little! Steve Harrington

Tags- an accident, hurt/comfort, cuddles, forehead kisses, crying, comfort, overstimulation, happy ending, pacifier, cellphones in the 80s…sorry

Steve had been regression for years…but he never realized he was. Years of his life spent hiding his stuff animals till the night time so he could cuddle them, finding himself waking up with his thumb in his mouth, always playing with toys he found, slipping into a younger frame of mind.

It’s never happened at school, never infront of anyone else. But after a stressful day of finals, some arguments with Billy and others, Steve started regressing before he even made it to his car in the school parking lot.

Immediately Robin and Eddie stopped him from driving, seeing that something was wrong. Robin could understand what was happening but Eddie immediately did.

Eddie knew about regression and the signs of it. He swooped in and took Steve back to his trailer to be taken care of while he regressed. The next day the two talked and Eddie explained regression to Steve. It was as if someone had opened the shade to a dark house.

It was after that day that Eddie became his go to Caregiver whenever he regressed, feeling safe and comfortable around the heavy metal D&D player. And Eddie couldn’t get enough of his cuddle bug Little.

~~~

Steve sunk back into his seat, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. The fall rush of customers had overstimulated the heck out of him today, and with it created a growing need for regression.

The ice cream parlor was nothing but busy. Usually in the fall there were less customers, I mean who wants ice cream when it’s cold outside?

But the owners thought it would be a great idea to add pumpkin spice to their menu. Let’s just say everyone was running to the ice cream parlor to get a taste of the new flavor.

He held his shaking hands, trying to stop the trembling, trying to stop the tears starting to build in his eyes.

He would be okay, he kept telling himself, he just needed to get home. I mean it couldn’t get any worse than that in there.

Shoving the keys into the ignition, he pulled out of that parking lot and got the hell out of there.

He drove down the tree arched road. Fall leaves falling from the sky, all in different shades of red, yellow and orange. The radio played in the background softly as Steve navigated his way through Hawkins.

He would be okay…he would-…….why does it smell like burnt toast?

Suddenly his car started to jerk forward and putter on the road. He quickly pulled into the side of the just in time before the car died all together.

Steve sat there, in utter disbelief and shock. He tried turning his car back on but the ignition wouldn’t start. It just puttered then died again. He tried it two more times before he gave up.

And from his shock and disbelief, came anger. He slammed his hands on the wheel and said every curse word in the book to his car.

It was a release, a release of emotions from an overwhelming day. He started to cry as regression started to take hold. How would he get home? Was his car even savable? What was he going to do?

He grabbed his phone with a shaking hand. The tears in his eyes started made it hard to find his contacts.

His thumb hovered above Robin’s phone number. She was still at the ice cream parlor but he knew she would come and pick him up, she would take him home.

But that’s not exactly everything he wanted, was it? No. He wanted to be comforted, he wanted to be held, cuddled and told everything was going to be okay.

He wanted his Caregiver….he wanted Eddie.

He clicked on his name and waited anxiously as the phone rang, then rang, then-

“Stevie! How was work today?” Eddie’s cheerful voice rang through the phone.

Steve couldn’t even form words hearing Eddie. He just started crying, sobbing on the phone while trying to tell Eddie what was going on but it came as bits and pieces.

“Wowowowow. Bud, you gotta take a deep breath, okay? Come on, take a deep breath with me. In.” Eddie took a deep breath, and Steve followed.

“And out.” Steve followed his instructions again.

They repeat the action twice until Steve isn’t sobbing anymore.

“Feel better?”

“No.” Steve replied with a voice that told Eddie he was pouting without having to see him.

“Alright, well you sound calmer. That’s progress isn’t it Prince?”

Steve couldn’t stop the small smile on his face. But he still begrudgingly added a “…yeah…”

“So what happened?”

“My job sucks! Everyone was so mean today and it was so loud and everything was too much. And…And I wanted to go home and my car…I think it broke and I have no way to go home and now I-.”

“Stevie, Stevie, it’s okay, I understand now,” Eddie quickly stopped him from going right back to getting upset. “It’s been a long day, a long overwhelming day for you.”

Steve sniffled, rubbing his nose with his sweater sleeve. “Yeah…”

“Where are you at? I’m coming to pick you up.” He could hear Eddie shuffling around in his trailer.

“I don’t know.” He looked around outside. “I’m close to the corner of Washington but I’m stuck on Palmer. I’m right after the old movie theater.”

“Perfect. Thank you for telling me. Alright, I’ll be there to save you as fast as humanly possible. Wait for me my little Prince!” Eddie said overly dramatic to cheer him up.

And it did for a second, until Steve felt a twinge from his bladder, he whined holding the phone tighter. “Hurry please.”

“I’ll promise I’ll be there soon. Stay close to your car and don’t wonder off okay? Love you Bubs, be there soon.”

“Love you too Dadee.” Steve sighs as he hangs up the phone. He would be there soon, Eddie’s trailer wasn’t too far from where he was.

He squirms in his seat as he waits inside his car. Eddie told him to stay next to it, and he wanted to be good, after all he was coming to save him. But after a couple more minutes he realized his situation was a lot more dire than he thought.

He should’ve gone when he was at the ice cream parlor, but he was so set on getting out of there the moment he was off work that he didn’t think. He just wanted to be away from the people, from the noise.

Now he was crossing his legs and hoping it would just go away. He looked around, the old movie theater was really the only place he was around. There were no stores on Palmer for at least another block. And it wasn’t like he could just go outside on was the busy street.

Tears started to fall again as he realized his battle was one he was slowly losing. Eventually his pants started to get more and more warm as his body let go, having an accident in his car and in his pants.

This day could and has gotten even worse. He covered his face, crying into his hands as his pants got darker with wetness. He wanted to disappear, he wanted today to be over.

After a couple of minutes was a tap at his window that brought him out of his crying, “You’re under arrest. No Little as cute as you is allowed to have a bad day. Come out with your hands up.”

Steve turned and met his eyes with Eddie’s. “Dadee wait-.”

Before he had a chance to stop him or explain, the door was ripped opened and his wet pants and accident were on full display for Eddie.

Steve rarely had accidents, and when he did it was usually from a nightmare in the middle of the night. This…this was the first time during the day.

“Oh Bubs…” Eddie looked to Steve sympathetically. “What happened?”

“I didn’t…I tried to hold it…I didn’t know I…” he tried to say between sobs.

“Awwww, it’s okay bubs, I’ve got you, I’m here now. We’ll take care of this.” Eddie pulled Steve into a small hug, rubbing his back with one hand and cupping the back of his head with the other.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other.

Eventually Eddie broke apart, realizing he needed to focus on getting Steve out of here and cleaned up. He broke apart the hug, ending it with a small kiss to his temple. “There we are, no more tears pretty boy.” He leaned forward and wiped the last of his tears away.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back to my trailer, get you cleaned up and then the two of us are going to relax the rest of the day. How does that sound?”

“W-What about my car?”

“We’ll worry about this tomorrow. Right now as your knight in shining armor my biggest priority is my little prince. Come on, let’s go home.” He held his hand out for him.

Steve took it immediately, stepping out of his car and looking down at his soaked pants. He started to whine as tears brimmed his eyes.

“It’s okay, accidents happen to the best of us. You’re okay Stevie. Just a little accident.”

“I’m still big?” Steve asked with the littlest voice.

“Of course you are. But even big boy can have accidents. Don’t make you any less than you are. Accidents happen to everyone.” Eddie reassured.

They start walking Eddie leads him back to his van.

“But I’m gonna make your seats gross…”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes I will, don’t want to dirty your van up…”

“I’m telling you this van has seen much worse.” He opens the door for him, “It’s fine Bubs, really.”

Steve hesitates for a moment, looking back to Eddie who gives him a reassuring nod. He climbs in and takes a seat in the passenger seat.

He goes to grab his seatbelt but Eddie grabs it for him, buckling him up, “Safety first. Can’t have my little Prince get hurt on the way home.” He smile back to him, patting his shoulder before he closes the door.

He gets into his seat and grabs his bag from the back. “Alright let’s get you settled and then we’ll be on our way.”

He digs through his bag before stopping and grabbing a black pacifier from its case, specifically Steve’s favorite paci. “Here bubs, this will help relax you.” Eddie hands it to him.

Steve plays with it for a minute before he puts it in his mouth and instantly relaxes. There’s something so soothing about it that just brings him back down.

“There we go, starting to feel better already.” Eddie smiles.

“Now I couldn’t find Mr. or even Mrs. Bear before I came here. I think they’re hiding extra good in my trailer. But I have a substitute.”

He leans back and grabbed his oversized hoodie from the back of the van. Steve reaches for it greedy. He brings it to his nose nose and inhale the scent that’s so clearly Eddie.

He brings is close, wrapping it around him, hugging it close. It was as if the world started to melt away.

Eddie smiles, buckling himself up and starting his van. “There we go. All settled?” He asked getting a small nod from the Little.

“Good, let’s go home.” Eddie put his van in drive and the two started to head back to the trailer.

~~~

Cleaned up and dressed in his favorite Scooby-Doo shirt, Steve and Eddie settled on the couch, watching the show together.

While it wasn’t the greatest idea to give a kid a ton of candy, in this case a regressed Little, Eddie felt after a long rough day a bit of their saved Halloween candy couldn’t hurt.

So there they were, Eddie’s arm wrapped around Steve. Steve watching the show carefully, face full of chocolate, cuddle close to Eddie, with the wrappers piled up on the coffee table while Scooby-Doo played on the tv.

The perfect way to end a horrible day.

“I think it’s the uncle.” Steve broke the silence, his eyes never leaving the tv.

“What? It can’t be him.”

“Yes it can! We haven’t seen him whenever the monster is around!”

“So?” Eddie smirked, knowing it was probably the uncle, but playing along as clueless.

“SO, that makes him suspicious!”

The cartoon plays on and sure enough…

“AHA! SEE!! I said it was him! I said it was!!”

“Wow! Look at you bub! So smart! I had no idea!!” Eddie smiles ruffling his hair.

Steve relaxes back against Eddie as the next cartoon begins to play.

“Maybe we should go as Scooby-Doo characters for Halloween?”

“Really? Who would I be?”

“Shaggy? And I’d be Fred because I’m pretty.” Steve giggles.

“I’m not going to be Shaggy but…” Eddie laughs, “Maybe I’ll be the vampire that chases the gang around.”

“No! Vampire!” Steve jumps up from the couch and starts running giggling all the way.

“Oh no! I’m coming to get you Fred!” Eddie holds his arms up and starts hissing, running after his Little Prince.

[butmakeitgayblog]

There’s just something so special about your CI Clexa which got me thinking—given their dynamic and individual trauma, what does their end look like? Who goes first and does the other soon follow like those old couples where the other dies of a broken heart or does one outlive the other and what does life look like then? They’re just very us against the world. Curious what your ending for them looks like

You don't know what to do with yourself anymore.

That's all you keep thinking as you stand there, staring. Eyes tracing the dash carved in winter grey marble that connects both your names.

It was always going to be like this, you think. Always going to end this way, because you were doomed from the first day you fell. And you'd known it. You'd known that loving her was so dangerous, so disastrous and threatening to the core of your very being, that you'd resisted at every turn... but like everything when it came to her.

You'd given in.

And let her consume you.

And you hadn't regretted loving her for one single second.

You lean heavier on the cane at your side and shift under the umbrella that your assistant holds over you. You know she'd call you spoiled for it, roll her eyes and make a comment about how delicate you must be.

But then again, she'd also be tucked into your side. Not six fucking feet deep.

The patter of rain muffles the squelch of wheels on grass and you don't even both to look to see who has come to settle in beside you.

You don't care because they don't matter.

Nothing matters. Not anymore.

Because every time you breathe, it feels like you're losing her all over again.

"Would it help if I said despite the decrepit state of you, you were somehow the hottest widow I've ever seen?"

You sigh without blinking, still staring at the perfectly lined writing of your favorite name.

"Fuck off, Raven."

You miss your love so much in that moment, that you know you must sound eerily like her.

Raven's chuckle hits your ears like fingernails on sandpaper, and you regret having even invited her to begin with.

"There she is," she says through a sniffle that you know has more to do with the wet autumn air than anything relating to your loss. "How are you holding up?"

You feel yourself frown at the question, both for its stupidity and its intention, because when the hell has she ever cared about anyone else's feelings?

Much less yours.

"I'm fine," you say mechanically. The same way you've been saying it to everyone who's asked for the last 76 hours, 39 minutes, and however many meaningless seconds.

But the truth is... you're not fine. And you know you'll never be fine again. Because you stare at her name etched into freshly cut marble and loathe how it does nothing to convey the sheer force of nature that your wife is.

How her hair feels when it tickles your collarbones as she inevitably leans in for 'just one more kiss'. How it smells like her favorite shampoo mixed with just a touch of your signature perfume. Because for decades you've been in the disgustingly domestic habit of letting her rest on your shoulder while you read to her, tucked warm and safe in the haven of your oversized bed.

Or how she'd gone soft in her old age, in all the right ways, always so warm and pliant in the weakening of your fingers.

None of it tells how she could make the world burn with only a flick of her elegant wrist, and sigh the softest sweet breath across the dip of your neck. How she'd rage at you with her fire. Make the earth shatter in her fury. A thousand pieces of her love spilled out at your feet, because she trusted you to collect every one.

How the lipstick of her goodbye morning kisses always left your mouth just a single shade a redder. How she'd never noticed that you'd changed your color pallete just to suit that, because having her on your lips always made your day better.

At least... you don't think she's ever noticed. You know you've certainly never told her, more enchanted with idea of it being your little secret of just how much you adore her.

The thought makes you smile, because that little nugget of information would undoubtedly have her pitching an outright fit. Smattering you with too-hard kisses as she stomps around childishly, indignant what with how prone to sulking your wife is—

... was...

Was...

The smile slips away from your lips.

She's quiet through all your thoughts. So quiet her voice almost makes you jump.

You'd almost forgotten she's even there.

"I don't think I've ever seen you quite this mopey."

"Sincerely, fuck off, Raven."

"Even that's still annoyingly attractive, for what it's worth."

"You know if she were here right now, she'd slap you for that."

"I'm only saying I don't know why you're being so dreary. You know she loved you."

"You know she hated you?"

Her chuckle sounds more like gravel this time around, wet and disgustingly thick. Your wife had told the fucking idiot to stop smoking at least once a month for last 61 years.

You even remember her saying it on your wedding day when she'd smelled like expensive champagne and nicotine and had insisted on cutting in.

"She actually was half in love with me, I'm sure of it. Why else do you think she let me keep coming around," Raven exhales when she's knocked enough phlegm free.

God, you fucking hate old people.

Even if by all accounts you are indeed one of them too. But you can't find it in yourself to feel anything beyond the burning behind your eyes, because you'd sworn to each other in an oath of half-smiled kisses that you'd only grow old together.

And technically you had done that. She had kept her end of the bargain.

But still you feel cheated in this somehow.

Because she'd kissed you so thoroughly and promised that it was you and her against the world. That she'd give you nothing less than forever...

And now all that's left is you.

You let the cold seep into your bones and ignore the chattering teeth of the idiot beside you.

Because how do you explain that of course you know she loved you. But it was because of that love that this was your curse in life? That this was always going to happen, simply because you dared to let yourself love her too?

How do you explain that no matter how fast you have run from it, you will always be that little girl inside. Tarred and feathered in the luxury of her Sunday mourning best, with mahogany braids twining her hair.

You stare at the coffin that holds your only reason for anything. The whole of your heart resting peacefully inside it. And for the second time in your life, your head fills with a riot of nothing. Only three small words play over and over again in your mind.

'I'm all alone now...'

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can you do platonic Lu Bu, Kojiro, Jack, Raiden and Nikola with a little sister reader who is like Qiqi from genshin impact

Before little sister reader dead, she was a sunshine and cheerful. But after her death, she became forgetful and emotionaless.

Here's Qiqi's lore

https://genshin-impact.fandom.com/wiki/Qiqi/Lore

And things you didn't know about Qiqi

https://gamerant.com/genshin-impact-qiqi-facts-trivia/

Still new to this franchise so please be patient with me. I did a bit of research on Qiqi so I hope I do this request justice.

-Lu Bu- To your big brother, you were his most important person, the only person he would willingly die for, not that he would ever tell anyone that. He remembered when you were alive by his side, you would cling to him, call him brother, and just brighten up not only his day but Chen Gong’s day who adored you. When he found out you were killed while he was fighting, someone else coming up and killing you in cold blooded revenge, he was furious and went on a one-man killing spree. After he died, he found you also in Valhalla, but you weren’t Y/N- you were a shell, a husk of your former, sunshine self. He never said anything, but Chen Gong could see the pain in his lord’s eyes when he would look down at you, holding you on his lap, wishing for the real you to return. You still called him brother, which he did love, but until everything was the same, there would always be pain in Lu Bu’s heart.

-Kojiro- Was the best big brother to you, always willing to give you piggy-back rides, doting on you, and he beamed when you asked him to train you himself. You were both beings of sunshine, smiling brightly. When you died in a terrible accident, Kojiro’s smile waned, he felt like he couldn’t live without his precious sister, and so he trained, trained to become stronger, so others wouldn’t lose their own loved ones. When Kojiro arrived in Valhalla, he was stunned to see you there waiting for him, you weren’t smiling, you looked almost emotionless, like you were missing your emotions. However, you brought back his smile when you held up your arms, “Big brother.” He hugged you so tightly, so happy to have you back in his life. You remained by your brother’s side, supporting him silently as he trained throughout the years. He did his best to always smile, smiling for the both of you, and when you managed to give him a shade of a smile, after so many years, he was elated, throwing you up into the air in glee.

-Jack- Your true self was locked deep within you, he could see your emotions wanting to break out, wanting to be free, but they couldn’t. You were like an emotionless living doll, barely speaking, and only to your big brother, calling him such. You were still as affectionate as you were when you were both alive, cupping his cheeks, sitting on his lap, and always being with him. Jack could see that you were trying, and it did warm his heart and he would always praise you and hold you close. Jack never forgave himself when you were killed after he failed to protect you, he became distraught, spiraling into madness, unable to cope with the loss of the only person that truly, honestly, loved him. When he saw you in Valhalla, waiting for him, he gave you a promise that the two of you would never be apart again.

-Raiden- You loved and adored your massive big brother more than anything, you were his number one fan, coming to all of his matches and cheering him on, looking adorable amongst all the other rikishi. Raiden was the same, he loved you so much and loved to spoil you, only because you would spoil him in return. If he got you mochi, you would hold one of them up, feeding him, which made his heart so warm. To lose you to a fever of all things, the one thing he couldn’t easily protect you against, made Raiden lose hope, he felt so helpless. In Valhalla, he was stunned to see you waiting there for him, holding your arms up to him, “Brother.” He hugged you so tightly many around worried that you were going to pop. Raiden knew that you were still Y/N, despite being void and emotionless, he knew that one day, if he was strong enough, he would bring back his biggest cheerleader, he just had to be patient, and smother you with love.

-Nikola- Despite all his knowledge, all his science and research, he couldn’t do anything to save you after you came down with a deadly fever. He could only see your bright smiling face, chasing after your much older brother, calling him big brother. Even though you couldn’t understand his science, you would stare at him with wonder and awe in your eyes ae he explained everything he could do in great detail. He thought it was cute that you tried to understand, finding your attempts to sound smart adorable, but he would always hype you up. When he found you in Valhalla, he picked you up, spinning you around with so much joy that he was in tears. It was only then when he saw your blank eyes and no smile on your lips, you were like a little doll. Nikola researched everything he could, trying to figure out a way to bring your smile back, with you sitting on his lap just like normal, holding his free hand. Nikola realized his research was not in vain when you finally spoke after a long while, “Explain it to me, big brother.” His research was momentarily forgotten as he swept you up, dancing around his lab in glee before, going into detail about everything, just like old times.

[rowanthestrange]

The Master And Margarita Jacket

(Matthew Sweet’s Doctor Who version…but with a frisson of Bulgakov’s)

It’s done! With every bit of unphotographical glittery metallic paint that I can’t capture on camera even if my iphone skills weren’t rubbish.

@spoonietimelordy, @rearranging-deck-chairs, @bearinabandana and everyone else who Did The Reading of that one ‘I Am The Master’ novel but I’ve forgotten to tag because i’m so sleep deprived i can’t think any more but hopefully other people will, assemble!

Detailed closeups and explanations (with some spoilers) below:

Starting front top right side (face on). -Margarita herself, biting a mushroom. A more Cockatoo beak than Macaw, with red face instead of white, to make what exactly she is more mysterious. -The Master Who logo here is just gold, any shading didn’t look right when it was so thin.

Front top right pocket. Purple, of course.

-Next section down are these three. The ‘Never Stop Growing’ patch is my second favourite patch of the bunch. So many Master Themes, and plot relevant. -Then the little ‘Best Buds’ with the heart in the middle. I was inordinately proud of that idea. (Buds, budding, bigenerated vibe). -And then ‘Obscene Lotus’. That’s mentioned early in the book, and while it’s just described as a big purplish lotus, there’s so much sexual charging in that scene that, well, you gotta.

Me, reusing the ‘budding’ pun in a different capacity? It’s more likely than you think.

-The cover of the Penguin Clothbound Classic version of the original The Master And Margarita, that took multiple days to complete and so much agony. -The patch is a blank one that I bought, then painted the design to look like one of those stamps people sometimes put in books. Painted the border the same colour, then tea-stained it to look like old paper. Certainly in real life the colour comes out nicely. I couldn’t find his autograph (and sadly there’s an unrelated artist with the same name lol) but he got his doctorate in Wilkie Collins so I just looked up examples of that guy’s writing and tried to give it a bit of that vibe. Hopefully it’s the thought that counts. But hey, if anyone ever meets him and gets me a signature sample I can just redo it.

General mushroom patch - I like the fire kind of vibe and the looming.

To the other side!

So. You’re asking what’s with the daisy theme. Fair. So Margarita is also another name for a daisy in some languages. I choose to lean into that because it’s also the widely known symbol of Three - with that scene where he talks to Jo and recounts how a hermit living on a mountain helped dispel his depression by getting him to focus on the beauty of the flower (“and it was the most daisiest daisy”). Given that Three is essentially a character in the book, this felt like the vibe we’re going for. It’s perennial. It also is a healer of bruises and wounds, how can that not be relevant meta wise too to the Master’s new companion, hm? And okay yes, Mikhail does say he’s not a botanist, but if you can think of another way to get that message across other than botanical illustration page…

I like the patch because lightbulb, idea, full of mushrooms etc.

-‘I Am The Master’ being the name of the book the story is contained in, plus Fun With Identity. -Next the one bit of Real Art that I attempted to copy in glittery acrylics - Magritte’s ‘The Treachery Of Images’ or more commonly known ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’. The story not only of the Master’s experiences recently, but the story’s themes of hallucinations and deceptions; as well as being the symbol of Russian!Brigadier. -This patch is great isn’t it? A play on the Master’s apparent alcoholism or Russian blending in as you prefer, and of course, The Lighthouse of Martin!Doctor fame.

-Mikhail’s guitar for playing Brown Sugar and other ominous inference songs. -The formula triangle of Love, Food, and Music (I couldn’t think of a self-evident way to show his approach to food - Russian dumplings are, well, not exactly distinct). On its side so the glittery pink triangle points in a certain direction because he’s escaped places and I can do ominous inferences too Sweet. -Maybe controversial? There is a failed love story component in here though, that I just couldn’t leave unmarked. The Doctor, K’vo, and Jo all have their parts to play in that.

Now for the arms:

Here’s the right-side looking-on arm. -I repainted this mushroom patch to be the orange and green of K’vo’s. -You’ve already seen the long image of it above, so here’s just a snippet closeup of the motif that goes along both arms. Daisies linked in a chain with the words ‘daisiest daisy’ (if you wonder why everything’s outlined by the way, a) i like the style, and b) it makes glitter infinitely more legible and clearer to see if there’s a dark matt border around it breaking it up, especially with something as variable coloured as denim). There’s the sunflower in the middle because Margarita loves her sunflower seeds.

This is the other arm. Margarita holding a margarita in a margarita. What’s more to add? I used my shittest white (mixed with my fabric medium as everything else has been at every step) rather than @yesokayiknow’s excellent suggestion of Liquitex, which has saved me everywhere else, including those light patches. But here shitty kids basics acrylic is translucent enough to do some excellent work pretending to be glass and ice. The parrot patch has been altered to make the beak entirely black and her face red instead of macaw white, to keep her species ambiguous as literary theme demands.

To the back!

This Master Who logo is bigger, so it has the Master’s purple highlights like bruising.

Here is a small UNIT patch I modified to be a Russian one, globe focused on their continent (roughly). Sweet just translated the word ‘unit’ for Russian!Brigadier’s group, and the text is the re-cyrilliced version of that.

Skipping to the bottom…

Here referencing O’s collection of Doctor Information, Sweet adding to that with having distinct scrapbooks. ‘Manuscripts Don’t Burn’ is a line from Bulgakov’s The Master And Margarita (spoken by Satan in fact, mhmm) and became something of a rallying cry for oppressed Russian artists. I have ‘Author Unknown’ for the obvious meta with his and the Doctor’s memories, and likewise, the fact that flames are clearly present and burning lets the viewer come to whatever conclusion they like. #133 was chosen for the simple fact that in my copy of Bulgakov’s novel, and the one depicted on the front of the jacket, it is page 133 which starts the chapter The Hero Enters, where we meet The Master who has renounced all other names (who is very much, as Interference notes, the Doctor). They are glitter paint titles done on Hemline repair patches, black, brown, white, and navy blue. I know anything too painty on that area of the back will risk a lot of wear, and these are easily replaced when necessary (if still hours of lettering).

To the left most side…

This was the most expensive patch I bought, £12. But worth it. The mushroom stalk is silk.

Here I depicted in silhouette the scene of the Master climbing up to the Doctor on the giant mushroom. I chose silhouette so as not to draw the eye too much. I also added some 2ply black-black glitter cotton as part of his climbing equipment, attached on by some silver stitches for the…things I can’t remember the name of. It gives it a bit more 3D effect, but also keeps the thread close enough it shouldn’t pull on anything.

And at its base we have a reference to Mikhail’s chosen middle name. I chose to believe it’s relevant, Sweet’s too deep into this for it not to be. This is a cover I edited to highlight the namesake who actually travelled Russia and collected the tales of this book, and indeed, it does include the story of Koschei The Deathless. I edited the robe to be red instead of its original yellow, and added the quintessential Time Lord collar. But I think it’s perfectly passable. This is iron on transfer paper (dark) onto a very light grey polycotton to turn it into a patch. It…*cough* hasn’t had its edges finished or strictly been attached yet, but that’s a bit of handwork I can do as and when.

So finally back up to the middle

I’ve expanded out @spoonlesss-artbook fantastic angel-winged Margarita’s Master art. The Redbubble bag was only that big as it was (hemmed with bostik fabric glue like a true pro and attached as a panel) so it cut off a little, and it didn’t go the whole way anyway, so now we get some endings of the feathers, some all the way up to the arm of the jacket. I tried to blend it into the fire, one creature of both. And trying to get a multidimensional feel, boundary breaking. And again, very glittery irl so plays very well with the fire theme. It was fun when it came to colour-matching particularly the blue wing at the top, because the glitter gives it a bit of a sheen. I blunted it with a few careful washes of black so it still sparkles but is the right colour in most angles.

The Redbubble edit cuts @spoonietimelordy’s signature, so I copied it from the original and moved it over to the left side in some sparkly silver. Also internet doxxing my real life self on the bottom of the back as my own signature.

Doesn’t look like the sort of thing that would take weeks when you see it all together, but I’m really happy with it. I’m so grateful for everyone who’s shown their brilliant art to me and shared posts about painting all these years, cus it allowed me to absorb stuff and let me come out of the gate swinging! It feels thoroughly addictive. Even if I only know ‘use tiny brush’ for almost everything and glitter metallic is great for hiding sins. (And a ‘Ha!’ in the face of my mother keeping me away from it my whole life because of mess - I never got even a single speck on any clothes that wasn’t this jacket. I could’ve been doing this for years rather than just picking up a brush at the age of thirty-damn-one. But at least I’ve got it now).

And thanks to Matthew Sweet for feeding the worms in my brain too.

[arisingnight]

gofushi. time travel au. hatred and then love.

"Looking at you pisses me off," Gojo said bluntly.

Megumi tilted his head. "I don't know what to say to that. I'm sorry?" He shrugged. Ever since he time traveled back into the past, teen Gojo had been a fucking menace towards him. He didn't do anything wrong.

"You're hiding something, and I'm going to find out what!" Gojo glared at him before putting back his shades.

"Good luck?" Honestly, he didn't know why he bothered with Gojo. He's an asshole right now. Megumi hadn't remember him being like that when he was a kid, sure, Gojo had been immature and insensitive, but never cold and cynical.

Gojo scoffed and walked away.

Megumi wondered if Gojo hadn't raised him... would he have liked Megumi or hated him? Because it's proving right now that Gojo would've hated him.

"Don't take it personally, Megumi," Suguru said, standing right next to him. "Gojo hasn't been himself lately."

"Oh." He turned his head to the side. "Do you know why he has a lot of hatred towards me?"

Suguru paused, then carefully said, "You remind him of someone. Someone that nearly killed him."

Megumi's eyes widened. "I do?" He never knew Gojo had almost died, then again, he didn't really know much of Gojo's past. Not for the lack of trying, Gojo was just good at changing the subject.

"Yes. I'll admit... when I see you, I see that man as well."

Megumi's lips curled down. "I see." What was he supposed to say to that? Nothing. It's not his fault he looked similar to a stranger. He never thought Gojo would despise someone innocent for that. "How come you don't hate me?"

"Because it's childish to be angry when you had nothing to do with it," Suguru said softly.

"Thank you. I know Gojo must be telling you to stop talking to me. So you don't have to anymore. He's your best friend." Megumi bowed to him. "Besides, I'll be going home soon. The person I cared about the most is waiting for me."

Suguru peered at him. "I bet Gojo misses you a lot."

"He does—" Megumi blurted out, then stopped. He raised his head, heart beating nonstop as he said the truth. "I mean—"

"Now it makes sense." Suguru smiled. "I was wondering why Gojo was the first person you greeted and without fear. You're from the future."

"Please, don't tell anyone! Only Yaga knows the truth!" Megumi pleaded, hands trembling.

"I won't. Now I feel bad for how Gojo is treating you.” He frowned, hand on his chin in deep thought. “Why do you put up with him?”

“He’s not like this in the future, you know,” Megumi defended him. “He’s a good guy.”

Suguru hummed, like he didn’t believe Megumi. “You should tell him. He has the right to know. He’ll change.”

Megumi huffed. “I’ll pass. This Gojo is not the one I know and cherish. He’s simply an annoying student who has too much time on his hands.”

Suguru grinned. “Go on.”

“He's arrogant and constantly says 'I'm the strongest'. Of course he is. There hasn't been one of him in over four centuries." Then Megumi took a deep breath. "But he also appreciates youth, knows the importance of having fun and being a kid, he didn't have much of that growing up, which is why he wants it for everyone. He wanted that for me, and for that I'm grateful." Megumi wasn't aware he was blushing until he felt his cheeks warm. "I can't believe I miss that idiot so much."

"Aww, that's nice of you!"

Megumi tensed upon hearing Gojo's voice behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. "I wasn't referring to you," he grumbled.

"Too late to take it back. You love me!" Gojo clapped his hands.

Megumi turned redder.

Suguru chuckled. "You heard everything, I'm assuming?" He had seen Gojo approaching them from afar but said nothing to Megumi.

Gojo nodded. "Yep. Megumi here," he said as he put his arm around Megumi, "is someone precious to me in the future. I feel so honored."

"You literally said my face pisses you off earlier," he reminded, still not forgetting that.

"That was before the truth came out," Gojo exclaimed. "We have so much catching up to do!" He was already dragging him down the sidewalk, ignoring Megumi's protests.

"Told you he would change," Suguru whispered, watching them go.

[daemonsdivorcerock]

THE RED QUEEN || d.targaryen

IN WHICH: six years after the driftmark incident, (name) and daemon targaryen receive word that lucerys velaryon’s claim to the driftmark throne is being challenge so they return to king’s landing to vouch for baela’s claim to the throne. to make things worse, viserys is dying and his last words are misinterpreted.

REQUESTED: yes/no

PAIRING: daemon targaryen x fem!targaryen reader

AUTHOR’S NOTES: part three in the shrew of king’s landing series!! reader is described as having silver hair. rhaenyra is kind of a bitch in this, love her tho.

WARNINGS: death, incest, targaryen!incest, angst, shenanigans, dysfunctional family, mentions of cousin marriage, otto hightower, usage of the word bastard, pregnancy, reader is pregnant again.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

THE SIX YEARS BETWEEN THE DRIFTMARK INCIDENT AND THE RETURN TO KING’S LANDING HAD PASSED BY RELATIVELY SLOWLY, that’s how it’d felt. Slow. The years had drolled on by, six of them in total.

The styled “Heir Who Never Was” found herself going through a series of recollection and deja vu as she took in the sight of her chambers. It was like she had never left. Her bed was made. The fireplace was roaring.

Everything was exactly where it had been the day he left. With the exception of rummaged clothes, shoes and books. It pained her to gaze upon her tragically empty bookshelf, which was her pride and joy before she claimed Meraxes from the Dragonpit.

Her household and supporters all adorned the deep shade of rouge, declaring their support to (Name)’s claim to the Iron Throne. She had gained some supporters in the Red Keep, including Otto Hightower, Alicent Hightower, Aegon Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen and Daeron Targaryen.

Rhaenyra had seldom supporters in the Red Keep. Dressed in a well-fitting crimson dress, (Name) rested her hands on her swollen stomach, round with her ninth child. Six years following the death of Laena Velaryon, a myriad of events had taken place.

Harwin and Lionel Strong had died when Harrenhal caught fire. Corlys Velaryon had an accident at sea and was presumed missing. Rhaenys Velaryon was raising Baela and Rhaena to lead Driftmark. Laenor Velaryon had died. Escaped, some said. (Name) did not blame him.

Daenerys had wed Aegon, bearing him two children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aemond had wed Rhaenys and the two had a daughter, Alysanne. Helaena was happily married to the son of minor Lord.

There was talks that Aemma and Daeron would be betrothed. Then again, there was also talks that Aemma would be betrothed to Lucerys Velaryon. The Reds had been summoned to Court to deal with the matter of the Driftmark Succession.

It was elementary. Baela should inherit the Driftwood Throne. She was Corlys’ eldest legitimate grandchild. It made sense. Lucerys Velaryon, despite bearing the Velaryon name, had no right to the throne. Anyone with a brain could see that. Anyone except her father.

She glanced over at Daenerys, Rhaenys and Helaena sitting talking, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Alysanne playing on the floor with (Name)’s youngest children, Aegon the Younger and Viserys.

Daemon sat on an armchair by the fire, with Rhaella on his lap. Rumours were flying that Rhaella would be betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon. Over my dead body, is what crossed (Name)’s body.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

The Reds and Blacks were assembled in the throne room, like characters on the chessboard. Each side shot glances at each other. Vaemond Velaryon was arguing how he should be considered as heir to the Driftwood Throne.

“I shall say it if nobody else will,” Vaemond spoke, glaring daggers at Rhaenyra, “Her children are…BASTARDS! And she is a whore,”.

The room was stunned with silence, briefs whispers darting to and fro. In his weakened state, Viserys unsheathed the same Valyrian Steel Dagger that had scarred (Name)’s face all those years ago. She felt an odd chill running down her spine.

“I’ll have your tongue for that!” Viserys had growled, before a slow clapping at filled the room. All eyes darted to the figure of (Name), who slowly clapped with a mischievous smile on her face.

She laughed briefly. “Thank you, Vaemond,” (Name) uttered, walking forwards, “What? Oh, Father, do not look at me like that. Somebody had to say it. If you cannot accept the truth, then I shall have to convey it to you. Rhaenyra’s children are illegitimate. I am sorry. Everybody knows. The whole fucking Seven Kingdoms knows. Laenor Velaryon did not father those children, Harwin Strong did. Your blatant favouritism towards Rhaenyra has gone on for long enough. Seven Hells, I have had enough!”.

“If Mother was alive to hear you saying such slanders-“ Rhaenyra began.

“If Mother was alive, Rhaenyra,” (Name) icily spoke, glaring at her sister, “Then she would agree with me! Those boys are barely Targaryens, half at most. And you have no fucking right to sully her name like that. Where were you when she passed? I shall tell you where I was. I was by her side, holding her hand as the Maester cut her open. I heard her screams. When our father decided that two daughters wasn’t enough, and that a child that barely lived a day was worth that more than the woman he loved! You have played this charade from long enough, the boys know the truth. We all do. It is time to stop lying,”.

The court room was immersed in whispers. “What will you do now, father?” (Name) whispered harshly, glaring at him, “Banish me? Exile me from Westeros? Execute me? Do your worst. As long as my bloodline endures, you will never be rid of the Shrew of King’s Landing,”.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

The family supper was tense. Aemond had called Jace, Luke and Joffrey “strong boys”, making (Name) snort with laughter. Vaemond Velaryon had been executed. After the Driftmark issue was settled, in which Baela was named heir, (Name) had decided to leave King’s Landing with Daemon and her family, to live in Volantis, with her great aunt, Saera.

She decided to visit her father that evening, a final goodbye. He had been rushed out of the supper, due to his illness. She and Rhaenyra had played civil for their father. She entered his chambers shortly after the Hour of the Owl.

“Father?” She whispered, looking through the billowing white drapes on her father’s bed. He looked terrible. The room smelled pungent, the scent of rotting flesh invaded her nostrils, almost making her vomit.

Viserys’ breathing was raspy and laboured. He would not make it through the night. She knew this. Rhaenyra and her sons has returned to Dragonstone during the evening, shortly after dinner.

“The Song of Ice and Fire…” Viserys murmured, tiredly, “The Princess that was Promised…I was wrong. I should have named you my heir…(Name)…I am so sorry for how I wronged you, my daughter…Aegon’s prophecy. I am coming now, Aemma…”.

With a final breath, Viserys’ body stilled and breathing stopped. (Name) felt tears spilling for her father. She had witnessed her mother’s death in childbirth and now her father’s passing in the night. It stunned her momentarily. She was in shock.

The King was dead.

[moonclade]

Hey! Doing good I hope?

I’ll make this request quick, I was thinking of a Percy x Melinoe!reader? Since her mother is known as a minor goddess of nightmares and ghosts, people are either afraid of her or doesn’t care about her that much. She even hangs out with ghosts more than people, but of course, dear ol’ Percy is curious of her and tries to befriend her? You know, a good strangers to lovers. Is this good? If not, just tell me so I can fix it!

note ― i'm so rusty when it comes to writing about pjo but i really hope i did well with this! (also sorry it took so long, i wasn't able to work on it for a week). i didn't want to make this like 20k words long, so i didn't really include the bridge from acquaintances to lovers

not proofread || lowercase intended & lots of use of the word "you"

1.5k words

the sun smiles as it burns your skin, and you scowl as the blinding rays make it unbearable for you to even stare ahead. as usual, you were wandering around camp, attempting to find something to do.

you really didn't know why you bothered. considering the fact that you always reverted to your normal routine of finding a bench and reading. and if you were lucky enough to find a shaded and secluded spot, you might even have someone to talk to.

that someone being whatever spirit would bother entertaining you. obviously not any of the other demigods, as majority of them never tried befriending you or were simply scared of the fact you were the daughter of such a "dark" goddess. of course, a few of the other campers didn't mind your family and your abilities, such as nico di angelo. the two of you weren't close, but he always acknowledged you whenever you would lock eyes. he was definitely your favorite at camp.

you never understood why people were scarfed of you just because of your mom. it was laughable honestly, and it led you to have a slight resentment for everyone who actively avoided you. daughter of a goddess of nightmares and ghosts, being invisible and feared by everyone. very ironic.

being alone took a while to get used to, but you eventually made it work out, opting for the quiet whispers of the long-passed spirits. they never judged you, although a few definitely make fun of your isolation.

not finding any activity to do, you decided to read a book you were itching to finish instead of conversing with your little clique of ghosts. your eyes lit up as you found the perfect spot to sit, away from prying eyes and the harsh beams of sunlight.

making yourself comfortable, you found your marked page and started where you left off, ready to finally get this book out the way and start a new one.

suddenly, a blocky figure blocks the sparse amount of light you were using to read. you look up to see, surprisingly, percy jackson.

you were confused and a bit intrigued. you've never interacted with him, but you always admired him from afar. he was a role model to you, both socially and when it comes to slaying monsters.

you would never admit you studied him thoroughly, usually in the light of the campfire, watching as he would crack a joke and then burst into a grin and let out a hearty laugh.

you were definitely jealous of him. that's all.

"i've seen you around camp. (name), right?" he questioned.

a nod was all he received. you looked around for the inevitable group of campers laughing at this interaction, but you saw none. relaxing a little, you lock eyes with his striking sea-colored ones.

"i'm bad with words." you respond, shaking your head. you avert your gaze back to the book you were reading. a romance, and an undeniably cliche one at that.

you loved reading about things that weren't commonplace in your life, like fantasy, but especially romance. everyone was too scared of you for you to even imagine about having a relationship or a love life in general. every crush that developed in your heart was quickly stowed away until it eventually died off.

"it's alright. i never see you talking to anyone around camp." he takes a seat on the bench, a reasonable distance away from you that it wouldn't seem he was uncomfortable with you, like most campers, but not close enough to make it awkward for you.

"never have to, everyone too terrified of my "sinister aura" and prowess in war. and also, my mom." you slightly joke, not wanting him to pity you or something along those lines. he tilted his head like he was going to say something in response to your slightly self-deprecating statement.

"you talk like a book." he blurted. you didn't know if you should take that as a compliment, but even with the short time you've talked with percy, you knew he wouldn't mean it as an insult. just a weirdly phrased statement.

"y'know, in a poetic way." he sheepishly rubbed his neck as you stared at him. the corners of your lips upturned, and he calmed down a little knowing that you didn't take offense.

"you talk a lot," you counter. "but in a good way."

he returns a smile and notices the book you had been slowly inching away from his view.

"what's that about?"

oh my gods. you weren't getting out this one.

"it's just a little romance," you rub your wrists awkwardly, hoping he wouldn't ask for a more in-depth answer.

but the gods were not in your favor today.

"but what is it about?" he quirked an eyebrow at your unwillingness to elaborate on the plot.

"it's just about a boy and a girl meeting randomly and they slowly fall in love at a summer camp. really cliche and probably boring to you." the book made it into his hands as he scanned the front cover art, not bothering to open the book and attempt to read it, thankfully. you could guess why though.

"at a summer camp?"

"i like reading about stuff that could be relatable to me," you shrugged.

"well is it relatable?" he seemed interested.

"do you always ask so many questions?" you grumble. "and no, not really. do you think i have a love life here?"

every answer was turning into a question, followed by another question.

he looked you up and down and smirked. "you don't?"

you swipe your book back and roll your eyes. "yes, jackson. you do realize i have more ghost friends than living ones, right?"

"adds on to the charm. now, tell me more about what happens in the book."

you groan outwardly, but on the inside, you were giddy at finally being able to talk to someone, especially percy.

giving in, you begin to go off on the plot and major events in the story, and your opinions on characters.

before the two of you knew it, the sun was already cut in half by the horizon and the sky was a flurry of colors slowly being overtaken by the dark blues and blacks of the evening.

"how about we meet here again tomorrow?" percy asks.

you were already warming up to the son of poseidon. it could be because you haven't talked to another human in a long time, or he had that vibe to him that let you feel safe.

sometimes you would go and hang out with him and his group, but you didn't know for sure if they liked you that much. it took you months to even decide if percy himself considered you a friend or not.

majority of time you'd go back to that same bench you met him at, and if he was free, he'd meet you there and the two of you would talk about how the book you were reading was going or just how life was going.

but the bench wasn't the only place you hung out. percy would invite you to spar with him or walk around camp, or take part in events going around camp. slowly but surely, more people warmed up to you as they noticed the bond you and percy had. you were still wary and apprehensive of those people though, knowing they judged you even though they didn't know you. but it was a welcome change.

it was half past noon, and you make your way over to your and percy's rendezvous point to hang out for the day. the battered wooden bench that was now carved with quotes and drawings that spanned the seat.

you didn't have to even wait a minute, percy jogging up to you with a hand behind his back.

"what're you hiding?" you try and peer over his shoulder but he moves the object out of your sight.

"well," he looks around everywhere but you, before taking in a big breath and finally meeting your gaze. "i really like you!" he shows you the assortment of flowers most likely picked from the forest nearby.

you process his statement. the percy jackson likes you? never in a thousand years would you have thought that someone could have a crush on you, but never ever would you have dreamed of percy liking you.

it was like your life was turned upside down ever since you met him. you managed to finally have someone to talk to, and also get people to stop fearing you. and it was all because of him. he was the saint in your life.

"hey, it's alright if you don't like me bac-" you cut him off quickly by pressing your lips on his. sure you weren't an experienced kisser, but you've read enough to know how to shut him up.

he went from stiff in surprise to leaning into the kiss, the bouquet long forgotten on the ground. you couldn't get enough of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer. he slipped his hands around your waist, a shiver running down your back at the touch.

he pulled away, and you clung onto him, not wanting his warmth to leave you.

after a moment of bated breath, you piped up.

"i love you too, percy."

[sapphicseasapphire]

Can you give us more Twi and Time Lore? TwT I need to know more!

MORE Twi and Time lore??? (I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but talk about them recently!)

As a God, Time goes by many names. These names are given to him by mortals who live much past what would have been his lifespan. People who never ever knew him as Link, people who pray to him for luck or blessings. Among these names are the Fierce Deity, Father Time, and the Man of Many Faces. I will explain these more in his origin story which I SWEAR IS COMING SOON.

But for the purposes of explaining his relationship with Twilight, I’ll talk a bit about the Man of Many Faces title. Legends depict him as a minor deity. A trickster. A young man, sometimes as a mischievous child who dons masks and is able to change his shape. It is said that if a traveler stumbles upon a silent stranger, they must tread carefully. The Man of Many faces gathers information to tell the other Gods, and could be hiding as anyone anywhere.

And mortals love to talk, of course, so much of this is folktales and rumors. Time does have the ability to change his appearance at will, and while he once had to rely on the aid of masks, with the godly mantle that was thrust upon him, he no longer needs them.

In my au, the Hero’s Shade is not Time’s ghost (or… Stal). Rather, the Hero’s Shade is simply a mask that the Man of Many Faces wears in order to deliver messages from the Gods. Except this time, he is the God. It’s his message. And he uses the opportunity to train his descendant, to ready him, so that he would not face the same hardship that he did when he was a young boy.

Twilight has no idea that the Hero’s Shade is Time. But Time could not be prouder if the young man he watched grow up.

(I will note that Time also watched most of the Chain grow up. Everyone except for Four and Sky, who died before he was born as Link. But he doesn’t go back and watch them until AFTER the LU adventure is over and they’ve parted ways. Again, I’ll talk more about this later! I don’t want to spoil any major plot points!)

(Did I mention that the Cryptid au grew a plot?)

So yeah! Time and Twilight are VERY close. Time has such a soft spot for Twi and it’s very noticeable haha! He treats him as if he were his son, which Twilight doesn’t think is very weird since he was raised by the entirety of Ordon and is used to people treating him that way. But the others? Definitely find it odd. Maybe some are jealous.

That’s about all I’m willing to share about Time and Twi (at least until I get their origins posted so I know I’m not spoiling too much). But I love getting asks like this! I hope this was satisfactory!

[winterdadandspiderson]

WINTERDAD AU #1

(part one because this got way too long. this is essentially the plot of an old fic i started back in 2020 and what would've happened of i'd continued it. i might try and write it again one day, perhaps, if i don't give up after 2 chapters. anyway here we go)

- mary parker was a shield agent when she met the winter soldier, both were on a mission. they fought, but never got as far as mortally wounding each other. mary would always slip away. it was like a game. bucky had been kept out the ice for a few weeks at that point, running a long job. but the longer he's out, the more he starts to remember little pieces, who he used to be.

- mary feels pity for him, seeing through the stone cold image hydra forged for him, to the person within. they fight. but then they also talk. they keep seeing each other while bucky scouts. eventually one thing leads to another and they develop a relationship of sorts. 

- mary later discovers she's pregnant but bucky never finds out. he's taken back, wiped and put under the ice once more. mary quits her job at shield so she can provide for her kid and keep them safe. knowing full well if anyone in shield or hydra caught wind that she was carrying the winter soldiers child, they'd never be safe.

- she's sad that bucky disappeared again, she knows hydra likely had him wiped and iced again. but she moves on, meeting richard soon after who she tells she's expecting a son, that the father disappeared without a word (technically not a lie) he tells her he'll love him like he's his regardless.

- when her son is born she names him peter james parker (during the few weeks they met, the last time they talked, bucky ended up remembering his first name, mary wanted peter to have at least a piece of him)

- peter ends up looking a LOT like bucky. he has the same shade of dark brown hair, facial structure which shows as he grows. but he has mary's eyes)

- the plane crash was really just an unfortunate incident. peter still goes to live with aunt may and uncle ben when he's seven. and then things go as they usually do in canon. the avengers form, yada yada all that stuff, you know the drill.

- when he's 14 peter is bitten by the radioactive spider. BUT. an important detail here is that due to the expiermentation bucky was subjected to by hydra and the enhancements which altered his genes, some of that, though remaining dormant, passed onto peter. but it didn't really do anything, it was just there. but it did keep him alive after the spider bite. without those enhancements in his blood peter would've died. instead, he gained his powers.

- uncle ben still gets shot, which as usual influences peter to become spider-man. and months after tony still comes along and recruits him to fight in germany. peter does.

- when he briefly faces bucky ("you have a metal arm? that is AWESOME, dude!") neither know so that also goes as normal. bucky is bewhildered by the kid who managed to block a hit with so much force behind it, while also shocked to know that he was just that, a kid.

- now one vastly different thing here is that while the avengers do split for a good year, steve and tony eventually talk and make amends. the avengers reassemble, deciding that they need to put the world before their feud. they're not on super good terms, but they tolerate each other. tony still refuses to forgive bucky.

- homecoming happens during the time where things are still rocky between the avengers so peter still deals with vulture alone. but he does see tony more often, stopping by for lab days to work on his suit among other things, to keep up the "internship" charade. tony grows fond of him, though he doesn't admit it.

its post homecoming where things start to go wrong.