#and then her mother looks at her with such horror and disgust even though. she did it for her. she saved her

[shrimpybbq]

Gwayne Hightower corrupting his sweet Targaryen niece!

His young niece is sent to Oldtown with her younger brother Daeron, much to Gwayne’s delight.

Though she’s a Targaryen, she looks so much like her mother and Gwayne is simply infatuated with her. His niece was Helaena’s twin, the girl much more lucid and rooted in the earth than her sister.

Gwayne who takes her under his wing, allowing the pair to form a strong bond as she learns more about Oldtown and the history of the Hightower’s.

Gwayne watches as his sweet niece seems to grow even more beautiful as she’s older. He notices the attention she draws and the leering gazes men level at her. It makes something in his chest burn.

His niece was expected to return to Kings Landing when she became of age, and yet the time has passed and her mother and father have not sent for her yet. Gwayne comforts his sweet niece though he’s secretly happy and enjoying her presence remaining longer.

Gwayne finds it more and more difficult to resist his niece as she clings to him more in her sadness, his body growing warm at the idea of taking her for himself. He reasons with himself: if her mother married her other daughter to her full-blooded brother then surely an uncle is a less egregious pairing. Gwayne’s been influenced too much by the Targaryen views at this point.

Gwayne seizes the opportunity to corrupt his niece once and for all when she cries desperately in her arms. She’s sobbing about how no man will ever want her as a wife if she never returns to the capital, how her family do not love her, how her mother sent away.

He’s taking her teary face in his hands softly, brushing her hair back from her face as he looks into her wide eyes. The heavy kiss he places on her lips has her momentarily shocked before she tentatively responds. Gwayne’s slowly guiding her lips in the way he likes, revelling in the feeling as her fingers begin threading through his hair.

Gwayne doesn’t fuck her straight away, no, he waits and waits until his niece is so dependant on him, hanging off his every word. She’s visiting the sept with him each day, dining with him and letting him kiss her as much as he wants.

But once he does, there is no one in the world that he would let take her away from him. He would show Otto the bloodied sheets from their coupling and watch his face fall in horror, disgusted at the sullying of a proper Targaryen princess. Otto didn’t think he had it in him, not to do something so vile.

Gwayne gets his way and soon his pretty little niece is standing in front of him in the Sept at Oldtown, exchanging vows with him.

Alicent is beside herself. Her sweet daughter corrupted and defiled by her own uncle, someone she trusted her with.

Gwayne and his new wife are the picture of marital bliss, always giggling and mumbling to each other. The maids in the keep at Oldtown are always giggling as they walk past their chambers; the gasps and groans escaping enough to make a grown man blush.

Gwayne fucks his wife good. I said it. He’s a munch too and 100% makes his wife cum at least once before getting into the main action. He’s got his niece wrapped around his finger and anytime he wants her, he has her.

It’s no surprise when the Red Keep receives a raven announcing the pregnancy of the Targaryen princess, a babe expected no more than 9 months after their wedding (they got down to business right away!).

(Aegon’s giggling at the rage colouring his mothers expression. He loves seeing her so unsettled and makes a note to tease her AS MUCH as possible.)

[comingdownwithme]

I love your creepypasta au and designs and lore. Do you have anything for Nina the killer, Jane the killer and clockwork?

Sure! Sorry for the late response! had school n' stuff, and I had to reread the old original stories of some of the creepypastas and catch up on any newer additions since this is (technically) my first run in the fandom.

Anyways! Here's my take on the girls! Hope these are alright! This was like- my first time reading Jane and Nina's and my 2nd time since I was 12 reading Clockwork's ekdjske

Nina the Killer

Growing up with a love for horror, Nina Dagon was a young girl isolated from her fellow peers from a young age, with no one else but her brother and mother to confide in. As she grew, so did her love for the macabre, and that love soon grew into an avid interest in True crime. There, at a young, impressionable age where she's at her most isolated and vulnerable, was when she found the man who would change the course of her life, whether he knew or wanted to, or not.

Out of the Creepypastas I've drawn so far (as of Sept. 2024), she's the youngest adult at 25-ish! (Though this may be subject to change as with the actual ages of other characters ://)

Bilingual! Spanish is her first language, English is her second. She's not the best at it, but she's trying.

Grew up with unrestricted Internet access lmao. This... severely impacted her development and how she acted around people at a young age, and a small part of that influence is still present in her childish demeanor as an adult.

Found out about the death of Mr. And Mrs. Woods, alongside the murder of three other kids in the family's suburbian town following their deaths and the burning of their home, through true crime channels.

That is also how she found out about Jeff and related a little too much to his background (her blorbo from her shows).

Jeff's copycat killer, down to his iconic smile, (though hers is a lot thinner and cleaner than Jeff's). They say that imitation the highest form of flattery.

She gets a chainsaw. I think it looks cool :))

Learned exclusively through true crime. Though she's less graceful or experienced than Jeff, she still managed to keep the police off of her, especially when the first of her bullies had gone missing.

Follows Jeff's murders closely. Wherever he strikes, she strikes soon after.

Jane the Killer

While the fires of his own grief and rage still burned bright, Jane E. Arkensaw was a woman that came home at the wrong time. Despite the risk of death as she stands before someone who's hands were stained with the blood of many- including her own parents- Jane fought with adrenaline and anger coursing through her veins like a drug.

The rest of the night was a blur. All Jane remembers as she looks up at the golden silhouette of her burning home amidst the dark backdrop of the evening was that disgusting, Glasgow smile and the fact that within the chaos, she had managed to hurt him.

Jane was scarred worse than Jeff was if comparing their burns. This was because amidst the fire, Jane stayed in a vain attempt to save her dying parents.

As she stands outside, injured, confused and alone as the weight of exhaustion slowly settles in, she wonders why exactly Jeffery "Jeff the Killer" Woods dragged her out of that house before she could die in that fire.

Jane's father used to be in the military, so she learned a thing or two from him in terms of holding one's own in a fight.

Stole the mask she now wears from a Halloween sale at some nearby store during October. A lot of the things she wears has also been either stolen or bought at cheap from thrift shops.

She a lesbian :))

Hasn't and will never kill anyone. Her main target is Jeff.

Despite that, due to her inexperience and Jeff's tendency to escape without a trace, she's sometimes caught in the scene of his crimes instead, leading her to be indirectly framed when she had first decided to hunt around for the white-hooded killer. She's gotten better now though.

Has a complex relationship with Jeff. Despite her seething hatred for him and his apparent distaste in turn, the killer had helped her escape the cops on several occassions, even feeding her during her earlier days.

Still, she won't and will never forgive him, and she dare not try to make sense of the mind of a literal serial killer.

She was an avid enjoyer of the occult and the supernatural before the incident. She still is now, though she's often busied with other priorities.

Clockwork

Having been raised in a broken family and knowing nothing but pain for most of her life, Natalie Ouelette, even at a young age, felt as if both time and space were working against her, puppeteering her life to entertain whatever twisted Gods were watching over humanity. As the years went on, the line between pain and the mundane- even enjoyable- had began to blur, which is reflected in her art during her younger years which she had used to cope. After a series of continuously concerning events, leading to her hospitalisation at a mental institution, Natalie "Clockwork" Oulette escaped, leaving a trail of blood in her wake, including her so called "family".

Practically homeless (like most of my interpretation of the creepypastas are tbh) and had never changed out of the scrubs she had to wear during her stay at the mental institution.

The mutilation and replacement of her eye was a desperate attempt to regain some control of her life, and in the end, she felt like she had

Often confuses physical pain with other sensations.

Doesn't like being touched. Even with injuries where it would prove easier with someone's help, she'd much rather do it herself, leaving some injuries to heal for far longer and scar worse.

Her jacket was one of the few things she brought along with her after she had ransacked her family home.

Usually targets families, especially its older members. She then stays in the family home for a short moment before she moves on.

[sserpente]

Forgiveness of Blood

What if Tav and Astarion met a little differently? What if Tav was someone else? A half-vampire? What if Tav…was Cazador’s daughter?

A/N: *slides a plate of Astarion-shaped biscuits*

Words: 1920 Warnings: mentions of rape, murder, and abuse, violence, half vampire!Tav

The gith looked tasty enough. Perhaps the half-elf with the long black braid. Hells, even the Tiefling who was seemingly burning up from the inside out promised to be delicious—sizzling, you’d dare say.

At this point, you were desperate. Any humanoid blood would do and this group camped out in the middle of nowhere, was just perfect for satiating your needs for a few nights.

You crouched down further, remaining hidden behind the bushes and the dark shadows as you licked over your humble fangs. You hated it had come to this. One of the few advantages of being a half-vampire was that you were no slave to hunger for all things sanguine. You could walk in the sun though you burned up easily and you could eat regular food without it turning to ash in your mouth to sustain you. Still, there was no denying that blood, as much as you loathed the idea, would keep you at strength.

You’d been tumbling through the wilderness for days now. Escaping the clutches of a powerful vampire lord was one thing (especially when said vampire lord was your biological father) but escaping a horde of mind flayers? That took its toll. You shook yourself upon being reminded that Cazador’s blood ran through your very veins; you were disgusted by your own body because of it.

You only knew about half the horrors he’d inflicted on hundreds, thousands of innocents, the ones on your human mother included. Pregnancy among vampires was so rare it was nearly impossible. Your mother, may the gods be kind to her wherever she was now, had never been in love with that monster, of course. He’d taken a liking to her long ago, abducted her, kept her a prisoner in his palace until the impossible happened and she ended up with child—you.

Gods, the few childhood memories still flashing before your inner eye when you rested at night were all but devastating, lonely, and…cruel. He’d meant for you to do his bidding, to become his right hand—always by his side but never on top, of course. Only you wanted nothing to do with that. You’d seen the way he treated your mother when you were right there in your crib. You never found her body. Whatever he’d done with it…you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

You were around twelve years old when you took flight and, with the help of a servant who risked and sacrificed their life to save you, left Cazador behind for good.

Your stomach growled and you took a deep breath. He had passed part of the curse of vampirism onto you. There was nothing you could change about that, whether you wished to or not. You were wary of the berries and mushrooms growing around here though and you had no energy left in you to hunt for meat. The only thing left was…blood.

There. They’re getting ready for bed. You’d wait until they all gathered around the warm campfire and fell asleep and then…you’d strike.

“Astarion! Astarion, help!”

Shit. You pulled away from the black-haired girl whose neck you were about to sink your fangs into, ready to bolt away into the darkness. A beautiful elf who’d kept away from the fire stepped into view, blocking your escape route. He glared at you with his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Something was…different about him. You hadn’t noticed him at camp before because…your lips parted. He had no heartbeat.

“You’re a spawn.” It wasn’t a question, not really. He was unusually pale, his stunning eyes were red, and as he spoke…you saw the flash of a pair of fangs.

“What are you doing here? Who are you? You better get out before I gut you,” he spat.

“Another blood-sucker? Chk,” the gith tossed in.

You lifted your hands in defence. “I mean no harm, please.”

A dire mistake, so you realised quickly. Astarion’s gaze travelled to the silver ring on your finger—a keepsake from your mother, one that granted her access to various places and chambers in Cazador’s palace: it was a silver Szarr family ring, a small round ruby in its middle.

Astarion’s expression darkened until it was downright…murderous. You had neither the energy nor enough time to react when he lunged himself at you. Your back hit the dirty ground with a thump, pain shooting up and down your spine.

You felt the sharp blade of a dagger pressed against your throat before you saw it. It was accompanied by gasps, yet no one dared to intervene—yet.

“You came for me, didn’t you? He sent you! Answer me!” he yelled, making you flinch. Cazador.

“No! I’m not, I’m…I’m hungry, I…”

“You are not touching my companions. I still need them. Are there more? Who else did he send?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, please! Let me go!” You wriggled a little in his tight grasp.

“You’re wearing his ring. You serve him.”

“I don’t serve Cazador!” you choked out.

“So you do know what I’m talking about,” he growled.

“Please, let me up and I’ll explain.”

A man with longer hair and a beard cleared his throat. “Astarion…maybe you should hear her out. The lady seems to be very much in distress.”

“That’s how they lure you in,” Astarion retorted.

“Gale’s right, Astarion. Let’s hear what she has to say. Just like when you found me, remember?” the red-skinned tiefling added.

The spawn above you took a deep breath and released you, though his dagger remained drawn and ready to slice you open. You didn’t bother to get back up and instead, knelt on the ground in a weak attempt to prove you truly meant no harm.

“Speak before I change my mind. I do so love a midnight bloodbath.”

Chills ran up and down your spine. “I…I told you, I don’t work for Cazador. You’re…you’re one of his spawn, aren’t you? I don’t understand, why would he send people after you? Did you escape? How does he not control you?”

“We are not talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Right.” You told him your name and offered a weak smile to the group. “I’m from Baldur’s Gate too. I have no idea where we are now though, to be honest. This is going to sound hard to believe but I was kidnapped by mind flayers.”

“Trust me,” Gale said, “it’s not as hard to believe as you might think.”

“Yeah…same thing happened to us, soldier,” the tiefling added.

“It…it did? I…I’ve been roaming the woods for weeks in search of civilisation.”

“You’re a spawn,” Astarion said, dismay swinging in his smooth voice.

“No. I’m not a spawn. I’m…I’m only half a vampire.”

Gale gasped. “A dhampir? How’s that even possible?”

“You know...” the black-haired girl you intended to bite intervened, “…when two people like each other very much, they do this thing…”

Gale snorted in response.

You nodded. “She’s right. Although…my biological parents did, in fact, not like each other when it happened. All I ever wanted was to be free from his disgusting legacy. I escaped from the palace when I was twelve years old. I don’t need blood to survive and I can walk in the sun, I just…I was so hungry I didn’t know what else to do.” You turned to the black-haired girl. “I wasn’t going to kill you. I just needed a few drops to regain my strength.”

“Huh, I think I’m having a déjà-vu.”

Meanwhile, Astarion’s face remained blank. One by one, the puzzle pieces you’d fed him fell into place—and he understood. “You…Cazador has a daughter?”

You nodded yet again. “My mother was human. She was a captive, much like you, I presume.”

“Well that certainly explains a lot,” Gale murmured.

It would all be fine now. Astarion knew the truth—he knew you weren’t here to bring him back to Cazador, and that never meant to kill any of his friends…

“You are…Cazador’s daughter,” Astarion repeated. Slowly. Dangerously so.

“I…I don’t know what he did to you. But I-I’m sorry. I’ve seen him in action, the man is a monster. I’m not like my father. I promise.”

He was still ready to kill you, you could feel it with every fibre of your being. You were not welcome here, not according to him anyway. Gods, you hated you were such an empathetic person! You couldn’t even tell whether the tears pricking your eyes were because of the crude hostility you were met with…or the fact that whatever Astarion had been through must have been even more terrible than what you had experienced living with the vampire lord.

“I’ll…I’ll leave.”

“No. You’re staying. Darling. You are going to be the perfect leverage to guarantee my freedom. And if not,”—he shrugged with a malicious smirk—“it will be a delight to kill you.”

Your blood ran cold. “Astarion…please, I…”

“Hold on! Let’s all just take a deep breath, yeah? No one is going to be leveraged here. You’re welcome to stay at our camp regardless, though. I am Karlach.” She points at herself, pleased. “It seems like you could use the company. We got food too. Real food, I mean. That’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale—but you already knew that—that over there, sleeping, is Wyll and…that’s it. Halsin’s probably still out in the woods, you’ll meet him in the morning.”

Astarion growled. “Cazazdor’s blood runs through her veins. The madness runs in the family. I ought to stake you right now. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

They let you stay. Against all reason, some space was made for you at camp and you were spared a bedroll. You couldn’t say you were a fan of sleeping under the stars but beggars couldn’t be choosers. None of them wanted to share their makeshift tent with Cazador’s daughter—and you couldn’t say you blamed them.

Regardless, no matter how much you turned and tossed, of course, sleep didn’t find you even after a quick but generous meal prepared by Gale. Astarion had been ready to kill you today. He probably had if Karlach and the others hadn’t stepped in.

And against all reason…you felt guilty. The pain in Astarion’s eyes…you’d seen your own reflected in it. Only the gods knew what he’d been through… You sighed and climbed to your feet, making your way over to his tent. Was this suicide? Quite possibly.

At first, you thought he was trancing. But then, from the corner of your eye, you saw a slight movement of his hand, one that would have been impossible to see with mere human sight. You cleared your throat.

“Astarion?”

Nothing.

“Astarion, I…I just want to say I’m sorry. I know you must hate me, I understand that. But for what it’s worth…I truly am sorry. Cazador is a monster. He killed my mother when he tired of her and only the gods know what he did with her corpse. Not a single memory I have with him is a good one. All I remember is pain, loneliness, and humiliation. We…we might share the same blood but I swear to you, I am nothing like him. If you won’t believe anything else…please believe that.”

There was no response for a while as you stood there, dumbfounded, waiting for his remarkably charming voice to sound. Then, finally…he shifted.

“I believe you.”

You breathed out audibly, relief flooding your veins. It was all he said. But for now…it was enough.

A/N: I feel like I'm going to continue this somehow. Maybe. Potentially when they're back in Baldur's Gate? Choices, choices...

[yawnderu]

Infatuation — Nikto x Reader

Cold, icy blue eyes stared at her from afar, examining her every single move as if he could read each atom that made her who she is. Nikto could feel his palms starting to sweat, the scarred skin on his face itching, yet he stayed still, not even daring to blink in fear of missing anything important.

His obsession was irrational, yet his mental state didn't help much when it came to her. He wanted to keep her safe from the horrors of the world, horrors he lived firsthand, horrors that had him clawing at his skin, horrors that completely fucked his head up, that keep him awake every single night, unable to sleep without his heavy medication.

She was a breath of fresh air; a sight for sore eyes, something new from the big and hairy men he was always working with. Can he really be blamed for his disgusting obsession when she treated him with so much kindness? When she gave herself up to him every single night, coming undone under his rough grasp? When she allowed Nikto to possess her body and soul? When she kept his head on his shoulders, letting him seek shelter all the way inside her willing cunt whenever he was losing himself?

How can he be blamed when she's his safe haven? When she allows him to use her body for relief without protesting? Always willing to please, always willing to give, and he takes and takes greedily, sometimes he even gives back! His scarred lips latched onto her cunt as his gloved hand keeps her eyes closed, never ready to let her see just how disgusting his disfigured face is. He's sure once she sees it, she'll scream and never talk to him again. Hell, he wouldn't blame her, yet she's the one thing he can't afford to lose.

"ангел." He called out, the grit and gravel of his voice traveling all the way around the room, bouncing off the walls, announcing his presence before his imposing behemoth body rested on the doorframe, taking up all the space.

"Nikto!" She exclaimed happily, the tone of her voice slowly healing him, though he will never be a regular man. No, Nikto is a monster. One who doesn't have claws or sharp teeth, but a face so disfigured it doesn't even look human anymore. He keeps himself disguised with his face cover, never taking it off, silently praying she will never see the pathetic scarred and mangled skin he doesn't dare call a face.

Her hands come up to hold his, fingers intertwined as he looks down at her. Her loving gaze is met with nothing but pure coldess just like mother Russia, yet he knows she can see the fire starting to burn within. A flame ignited by nothing but pure, unconditional love, love that Nikto knows they don't deserve, yet he will continue to take and take, giving it back so that she's never empty.

He frees his hands, removing his gloves hesitantly before preparing himself, hands already going up to hold her cheeks with the same care people have when restoring ancient paintings. He can see the tears dotting her eyelashes, beautiful parted lips slowly forming a proud smile at his first attempt on skinship.

"моя радость дорогая." He whispered softly to himself, finding comfort in the fact that she couldn't understand him. His rough, calloused hands kept softly caressing her soft skin, his sweat mixing in with the tears falling down her cheeks non-stop, yet Nikto is in a trance that is broken only by a choked sob, looking down at her with the slightest shift in his mask as his arms wrap around her, whispering sweet nothings in a thick Russian accent.

We would kill for her, die for her.

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades Pt. 2

benjicot blackwood x targaryen oc

word count: 2.6k

warnings: slight spoilers from Fire & Blood book, blood/war description

tropes: slow burn, angst, forbidden lovers??

PART 1: https://www.tumblr.com/chels-cosplay/754806134048800768/dull-blades

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The campsite was riddled with mud and bloodthirsty men spread throughout as the princess made her way back. This was war, she thought to herself. So many men lined throughout the grounds ready to die for her family, for her mother’s right to the throne. She found pride in it yet a strain of sadness pinged inside her chest at the thought. A sorrowful notion enveloped her mind as she realized the reality of it all. Many of these men, if not most, will die. But there wasn’t time to dwell for she needed to be strong and prove to these men that it was worth it, that her mother, and that she too was worth it. And she was here to help.

Heads turned toward her as the silver-haired princess threw open the tent flap. Respectful bows followed with mutters of “princess” followed as she passed the men inside to take her position at the head of the table. Her eyes fell down at the map in front of her. It wasn’t quite the extravagant, fire-glowing map she had at home but it would do.

“Princess, the Lannister army holds fast and we’re running out of time. The Kinslayer could fly over at any moment with that beast of his. We must act immediately,” Forrest Frey’s words broke her away from her thoughts. Forrest Frey, or known as Fool Frey, lead his house with nearly eight hundred men.

“Why do you think our queen sent me this way, Lord Frey?” Her words were harsh, challenging the man next to her. Of course she knew they were running out of time. Her dragon, Valax, was the only one that could even come close to challenging Vhagar. And for this reason was the only way she was able to fully convince her mother to send her to the Riverlands to fight.

Lord Frey’s lips parted as if to begin speaking but was quickly interrupted as the tent swung open. Deep brown eyes found Rhaelana’s as she sized up the familiar figure that approached the table.

“Good of you to finally join us, Lord Blackwood,” sarcasm teased the princess’s words as her face remained stoic, gaze never leaving his.

“Princess,” he responded with nod, a mischievous smirk itching at the corner of his lips.

Her eyes scanned across the table to the other lords and then landed back to Lord Frey. “As we were discussing…Yes, time is not our ally at the present. The Lannisters have the disadvantage being on these lands though their numbers are impressive. More than impressive. If I was informed correctly, they stand with nearly twice as many bodies. And as stated before, Vhagar could be in the skies at any moment,” She sighed as she stated the unfortunate facts. The defense of the Greens was a terrifying factor to swallow but they had the North, and she knew they fought like no others.

“Lord Roderick, you will take your wolves to the front. You’ll be leading us.” Her arm reached across the table to move the marker in position. “Lord Frey will follow with his knights and infantrymen on either side to enclose the Greens. And Lord Blackwood,” her voice breathed, meeting those familiar eyes once again. “Lord Rivers will set your archers on the north. We’ll march south to meet the Greens where we’ll attack near Gods Eye.”

She took a deep breath as her voice lowered. “I need all of your fighters to push the Lannister army as close to the water as possible. I came here with my dragon to aid you in this battle but I will not set these lands aflame. These are your kin’s land and I will not dare turn it to fire and ash.”

The lords watched her, understanding her command. Her eyes searched theirs, looking to find respect or horror or disgust, anything to help gage where she stood amongst these men. Then her eyes found the young lord’s across the table once again. He watched her in awe, determined to fulfill her orders and win this war for her mother, for her. She turned her gaze away, a slight blush reaching up her neck to her cheeks from the intensity of his gaze.

“Best make an end to these lions before the dragons come, Princess,” Sir Roderick spoke up, breaking her from her train of thought.

“Ready your forces, my lords. We march at dawn.”

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“It’s over, princess.”

Rhaelana’s eyes darted around the battlefield. It was like casting one’s eyes over a red sea—blood staining the grass as far as their eyes could witness. Death surrounded them.

Water dripped from the princess’s face as rain began to fall. It was as if the heavens cried for them. Gods, it was a cruel world.

Lilac eyes found the lord next to her as he spoke. She nodded, agreeing with him. “Yes,” she began, reaching up towards her own face to wipe splattered mud and blood from her face. “But more is coming. We will need to prepare but tonight we rest, Lord Blackwood.”

"The men have earned it. Rest that is," Benjicot's head turned to meet Rhaelana's gaze, taking in the sight of the princess with a hint of melancholy.

He was an unwaveringly loyal supporter of his queen and had grown quite fond of her daughter, the princess that stood before him. His respect for her only grew during the battle as she fought alongside the men and women that gave their lives for the true crown. The fire that grew within her, a pure dragon through and through, was also impressive and a sight to behold. One that he would remember for the rest of his days.

His gaze dropped to the mud, flecked with red and brown, at their feet. Rhaelana’s eyes found his face, studying the young man. He was handsome with his high cheek bones and rounded face. A slim figure but a mighty and brutal force on the battlefield. She had quickly learned why he adopted the name “Bloody Ben” from the rest of the men.

“We can rest while we hold a funeral pyre tonight, princess. My men deserve that, at least. We have lost more than not. If you’ll permit it, that is.”

The princess’s eyes fell to the saturated ground as he mentioned the funeral. So many had given their lives. Her heart silently broke for those now laying before her amongst the muck. More than half of their men was gone.

“Listen to me, Lord Blackwood,” she spoke softly, almost in a whisper. ���Every fight. Every battle you survive, you have to see the end. You must gaze upon those that are now gone.” Her voice hitched at the last word. “We at least owe them that. And we must never forget what it cost us.”

With that, she glanced at the young man next to her and reached out to touch his arm, almost as a condolence. Or maybe she needed to touch someone in that moment that was living, just to find some sort of warmth and comfort.

She then nodded her head toward him, dismissing herself as she strode past him and into camp.

Benjicot’s gaze followed her as she walked past him. He couldn’t help but miss the warmth that radiated from her hand as she left. Gods, and the comfort. It was only for a mere second but he ached for that comfort again, ached for any sort of relief from this hell he stood in. The young lord had seen death before but not like this. Never like this. Bodies of boys, barely even reached manhood scattered throughout the carnage now engraved into his brain. Rain drops hit his face, mixed with salty tears that trickled down, falling onto the blood-soaked ground.

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As the sun finally set, Benjicot’s thoughts kept drawing him back to Rhaelana. He thought of the melancholy look in her eyes and the tremble he'd heard in her voice. Her words echoed in his brain, not able to draw himself out from the memory of her.

The lord felt an odd sense of protectiveness towards the young princess. A protectiveness he loathed to ever admit out loud, especially since he knew she could hold her own. He had seen her fierceness first-hand on the battlefield, so it was almost comical to feel as if he needed to be the one to protect her. She had come to the Riverlands to do exactly that but for the North and for his men.

After eating a few bites of bread and smoked venison, Benjicot rose from his tent and picked his way through groups of men, looking for the Queen's daughter.

Rhaelana sat near the fire that was at the center of camp. The log below her dampened her legs and tunic but the flame before her kept her warm and dry enough. Luckily the rain had let up before nightfall but the chilly air still brushed along her face. Her cheeks appeared rosy, a flush spreading from her there up to her nose from that cool breeze. She certainly was not used to the chillier and wetter climate that the Riverlands provided.

She brought the mug she held to her lips, drinking in the strong ale and allowing the alcohol to warm her as well.

Benjicot's eyes continued to scan the camp until he caught sight of the young princess sitting by the campfire. Her silver hair and small frame was near impossible to miss. He approached her, stopping behind her toward the side.

"You will catch a chill," he drawled, his voice playful though a hint of worry was there. He stood behind her to shield her from most of the still-cold night air.

A smirk played at the corner of her mouth. She took one more sip and then turned toward the man next to her. The princess recognized his voice before she even turned her gaze toward him.

“If a cold takes me then I think that would be the least of my worries, my lord,” she teased as her purple eyes found his.

She tilted her chin toward the fire as she spoke, “Come, join me, Lord Blackwood.”

A smile tugged at his lips in response to her jape and Benjicot made a show of sighing before rounding the fire and sitting down next to Rhaelana. He boldly sat close to the princess, their legs almost touching.

"I dare say you're only asking because of the warmth I may offer," he teased back, watching the embers dance across her face.

Rhaelana’s smile never faltered as he teased while he made his way to sit next to her. She hadn’t quite gotten used to his wit and brazenness but was always pleasantly surprised by the young lord.

She adjusted her posture and brushed his leg with her own, playfully taunting back. A quickened pulse drummed in her ears as a light blush spread over her. His proximity was intoxicating and the alcohol she sipped only heightened her own boldness.

“And maybe I would like to enjoy some company,” she teased back.

Feeling the princess move closer, Benjicot dared to shift a bit closer to her as well. He knew they needed to behave for her sake, for her honor. She was the princess after all. But gods, did she captivate him.

Her words made the young lord look at her, taking in the slight blush that spread over her face. Despite her being age eight and ten, more than marriageable, in that moment she looked like a young girl flirting with peril.

"What sort of company would you like?" He asked, his voice lower and slightly breathier than usual, daring her to answer.

Her eyes fell from his stormy eyes to his lips. She traced over his handsome features with her own lilac ones. She memorized the scar that lay above his lip, the crook of his teeth as he smiled, the way his eyes beamed toward her with eagerness. He felt so familiar, so comfortable to her.

Her gaze then met his once again as she spoke, “Yours, specifically,” she stated boldly, her words falling from her lips in a whisper.

The answer surprised him and yet it didn't. Benjicot had noticed the glances she'd given him when she thought he wasn't looking. The way her hand lingered on his arm when she needed him to stay by her side after the battle. The way her eyes had trailed to and settled on his face every time he spoke.

As she sat next to him now, with their thighs and knees pressed together, he felt as if his heart was suddenly lodged in his throat. He swallowed once, hard.

"And what does my specific company entail, princess?" He asked quietly.

Of course she noticed that he was nervous. Or maybe excited? Both? She understood for her own nerves ran through her body and electrified her. The princess had never been this close to him before or any man for that matter. That fact made her heart pound in her ears, almost sure that he could also hear it.

Her voice didn’t rise above a whisper as she answered his question. “You are to keep your princess safe, Lord Blackwood,” she responded, the teasing never leaving her tone.

Benjicot’s mouth quirked to one side. In her playful tone he could hear her bravado, her attempt at hiding her own nervousness.

He moved even closer, closing nearly all the space that was between them.

"Well, that is my duty...my lady,” as he spoke, he reached upwards carefully. His hand hovered over her cheek for a few beats before gingerly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers lingered on her skin, just above her cheek, feeling the warmth from her body.

He moved closer, so close that he could smell the sweet scent of lavender and ale that emitted from the young woman. She was intoxicating. He was close enough to count the minute freckles that dotted her nose as his eyes scanned her face.

“Benjicot. Or, Benji. You can call me Benji," he said quietly, gaze finding hers once again, then drifting down to her lips.

He suddenly felt very, very nervous. For the first time in his life, Benjicot Blackwood had no idea what to say or do next.

Rhaelana’s mind raced. He was so close, so close she could move just a mere couple of inches and she’d—

“Princess,” his voice whispered, snapping her from her thoughts. “We should turn in until the morrow.”

Gods, he wanted her to oppose him. He wanted to stay here, warming the princess during the bleak night. But he knew better. He knew they couldn’t risk unsolicited eyes surveilling their current position.

The princess’s heart sank as she drew back away from Benjicot at his words. Of course, how could I be so careless? Maybe it’s the ale… Did I read into him wrong?

She took one last sip of her ale, emptying the cup and stood from her seat next to him. Disappointment clung to the inside of her chest, causing her heart to ache as it clenched around it with every beat.

“Goodnight, Lord Blackwood. Until the morning,” Rhaelana nodded her head towards him and then turned away to strode towards her tent, dismissing herself.

Benjicot sat dumbfounded, disappointed, and confused. He knew he had done the honorable thing, especially by preventing any sort of gossip that could potentially spread if the wrong eyes gawked at them. But why did he feel so discontent?

He decided then that he would make things right with the princess in private where wandering eyes couldn’t defile hers or his reputation.

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HI, HELLO! I was so excited to write a second part and now that we’re here, I am even more thrilled to continue on with a third one. I truly thought I was only going to do a one-shot but uh, I live for a slow burn romance. Thank you all for taking the time of day to read this little blurb that’s been stuck in my brain. I am clearly still all aboard the fancast Benjicot train. :’) We only know pain here, huh?

[mamayan]

Hii can I request Gyomei x prostitute fem reader nsfw.....plsss

Gyomei Himejima x Fem! Reader

cw: NSFW • Darker Themes • Attempted murder (of reader) • Fem! Reader • prostitute reader • Fluff/Comfort • Size kink • Breeding kink • Sub/switch! Reader • Edging/Denial • Overstimulation • Oral (F)

“Namu Amida Butsu. Pitiful creature.” He doesn’t need vision to understand what was going on in the lively square of the red district tonight.

Normally a bubble of carnal desires and pleasure, many forgot the festering underbelly of this part of the city. He’s on a mission, needs to focus and do his job, but something keeps stopping him.

Possibly the kakushi by his side crying softly, pitying the poor soul on a trial meant to convict whether the offending party is guilty or not. How can an upright samurai be in the wrong in any way? It must be the fault of the lowly whore which should have known her place. Such disgusting beliefs made his gut churn, but he’s aware there is little one can do in this situation.

He needs to leave, walk away, and kill the demon living just on the outskirts of this district.

So why won’t his feet move?

“This bitch is getting what she deserves, and let her serve as a warning to all the workers in the district!”

“Oh no, is he going to decapitate her?!” The kakushi beside him gasps in horror, drawing his focus away from his chants to regain his will power and instead breaking his concentration as he focuses on the slurred drunk words of a man. The crowd is thickening, attention drawn to the spectacle but most of all, the promise of blood shed. “Gyomei-sama…” it would appear the kakushi wishes him to intervene.

He can’t. He’s not supposed to anyway. He knows nothing of the woman’s crimes nor any clear indication on how to pass judgement.

“For trying to run from the great Habuyoshi who mearly admired the beauty! For daring to raise these weak fists at the great Habuyoshi! For biting the dick of the great Habuyoshi! I am putting this filthy dog down!” The crowd was cheering, jeering him on, even begging he kill her after violating her for the crowd to watch, or wanting to do it themselves. Gyomei had heard the red light district was filled with glistening gold and red, and it enrages his heart to think such an auspicious color is tied to such a festering diseased place. No one won here. Ever.

Before the kakushi could move, he’d already made his presence known, easily knocking the samurai unconscious.

The crowd stared in awe and fear of the enormous man wielding only prayer beads, defeating the well known samurai of the area so easily with only a single blow.

“Who owns this prostitute?”

None speak up for a moment, tension thick in the air as a savior appears for a once thought dead woman.

“M-me…” an elderly woman far past her prime shakily steps out, her guilty and shifty expression not seen by the man looking at nothing, but her nervous energy radiated off in waves for all to feel.

“I’ll buy her.”

“Gyomei-sama?!”

“Huh—?”

You awoke with minimal pain.

The jarring events of the night prior swirling in your mind and dumbfounding you because what was that?

You nearly died because a strange man grabbed you off the street while you were running an errand and tried to rape you in an alley way. Of course you fought back, but it seems that’s a crime if the perpetrator is stronger than you.

Tears fell despite your anger. You were no longer a prostitute, your freedom seemingly bought out of kindness but you knew not to trust anything given freely. There’s always a price, and your life thus far had taught you to be witty and at least somewhat charming. Though it hardly did much for you last night when the crowd roared for your execution like your life meant so little.

Your new owner is more terrifying than your previous house mother. At least she’d been open about her greedy vile mindset, but this man is nothing short of an enigma. Why did he save you? What is the purpose? What should you do now? It left you riddled with anxiety as you sat in a bed more comfortable than you could ever remember sleeping in, the blankets and pillows too of better quality than the red light district ever provided even for the top courtesans. You’d been given plain but high quality clothing as well, allowed to bathe alone, and then fed a vegetarian meal so delicious you wondered if the Buddhist monks had it much better than you gave them credit for.

Now you slept, in a room all to yourself, with no idea of what was to come next.

Did he want you as a wife? That didn’t seem right though. He didn’t appear the romantic type, and his size alone mildly frightened you despite his soft demeanor and speech. Were you to act as a servant? Did he wish to sell you to another area and call it good karma, leaving the matter as that? It ate away until you could no longer stand it, rising from the bed you longed to stay in forever, and slipping out of your room to explore the estate.

It’s shockingly empty.

Not a soul in sight as you explored, stealing bread from the kitchen as you walked, pondering the possibility of ghost servants. You felt silly and dismissed it, but the eerie silence was begining to get to you. You turned and headed for an opening, finally finding a serene courtyard. You were awestruck by the landscape, attention quickly caught as you spot a small pond with a bridge.

Hope bloomed and then flourished as you spotted several fat pretty koi swimming about, different colored patterns moving around and hypnotizing you.

“Ssshhwink!” You jolted in shock at the loud sound of a blade being struck, eyes honing in on the source as you see a training ground of sort in the distance.

Shock was the least of your current emotions as you watched the enormous man, your supposed savior for now, swing around an axe and spiked flail attached to a very long chain. Surrounding him were multiple dummies, made from steel, as if you weren’t already shocked silly. For someone so large, he was graceful and fast, skilled in each tiny movement and it nearly made you think of a dance you’d seen long ago at a festival when you were a child.

He’s no one ordinary. That’s clear enough, and he’s not a samurai it seemed either.

He could kill you quicker than that man before and he could’ve killed that man too but chose not to. Your heart trembled, because you knew those that hesitated left empty handed, and if his goal was merely to rescue and abandon you then you’d find yourself back to being sold off or worse.

You needed him to keep you, no matter how his appearance made your knees weak.

“Are you hungry?”

One week. You’d been in his estate one week and this was the first conversation you’d had with him since that night he saved you.

“Namu Amida Butsu. Thank you.” He accepts the lunch you prepared, as you learned fast that once he’d brought you into his estate, he’d been abandoned by his cooks. His servants who cleaned or kept things in order were incredibly well trained and avoided you similarly. You’d been cooking his meals and leaving them outside his room in the morning, and he’d usually be gone for most of the day until very late evening where you’d leave his dinner outside his small study or prayer room.

This was your first chance to initiate contact with him, and it made you swallow your nerves as you came up eye level with his abdomen. He accepts the tray, sitting at the small table in the open courtyard. He repeats his chants while you observe him up close for a moment.

He is handsome in a rugged way. His scars surprisingly only adding character. His thin lips and long lashes would’ve made many woman jealous as well.

“This is very delicious. You’re a good cook.” You startle lightly from your day dream as you stare at him with wide eyes, his face still tilted down as he eats.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hadn’t expected to find your company so pleasant.

Your presence was easy, comfortable and enjoyable after you warmed up more, chattering away similarly to the love Hashira at times. It made a strange sort of fondness form in his chest as he listens to your opinion on cherry blossom season, and why mochi is best served cold.

He finds himself rushing now after missions to return to his estate, something he’d never have done in the past. If only to hear your greeting of “welcome home” which makes the estate he’d been given actually feel like one.

You held his hand a few days ago, pulling him quickly and quietly to feel the soft fur of a sleeping cat you’d taken to adopting. He remembers the feel of your skin, the fragility of your hand within his, and how tiny you are. It shouldn’t affect him like this. Yet even as he sits below the icy fall of water in a lotus pose, his aching erection won’t ebb.

He’s ashamed the first time he wraps one big calloused palm around his leaking shaft and fucks his fist to the thought of you.

He’s even more ashamed when those thoughts haunt him in your presence.

He’s alarmed however when he wakes tonight to the sound of his shoji sliding open. Not by the intruder, your footsteps much louder ironically when you attempt to be quiet, but by the timing.

He released his cock and laid still, strangely nervous to appear asleep should you check.

Why were you in his room?

He chants in his mind when he hears fabric rustling, then a plop on the floor as something slides and falls. Were you… undressing?

His room felt hotter, or it may have possibly been him, as the sound of you nearing alerts him to a reason you’re here tonight.

“I know you are awake.” You sound bemused.

“I know you should be in bed.” He replies more shakily than he’d hoped to sound.

“I am trying, but you won’t seem to move over for me.” His breath hitches, and before he can think he’s scooting aside and feeling anxious for the first time in a long time. He’s too old now to be fearful of such a tiny woman, your charms and allure certainly difficult to dismiss but you shouldn’t make his hands sweat like this.

“Fuck,” he doesn’t mean to curse, but when you press your nude figure tight against his side, he nearly embarrasses himself by finishing what he’d started before you’d interrupted. Not that he nor his cock minded your company, in fact it twitched as if excited about your presence.

“It feels better if you face me.”

“What are you doing?” He feels flustered, hands desperate to grab you but unsure exactly if he should.

“Seducing you…?” He hears now the unsure tone you speak with, the way your fingers curl into his yukata to prevent him from pushing you away. He shifts and turns, the futon thankfully custom for his size and fitting you fully as he finally touches you. Your face first at least.

“Are you looking at me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I pretty?” He chuckles, smile making you press your thighs together due to the sheer masculine charm he oozed.

“You are soft.” He drops his voice as he presses a hand to the middle of your back and pulls you closer. His body radiates heat like none other you’ve ever felt, all pillowy muscles and smelling of sandalwood and sage, and something else beneath it that made your teeth ache. “You are considerate and empathetic.” His hands smooth over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. “You are cute and witty, I find I laugh most in your presence.” His thumbs lightly graze over your eyes. “You are intelligent. I feel I can confide in you and be understood.” Down your jaw and chest, over your shoulders and down your arms to your hands shaking lightly. “You are also mischievous, I never know what you’ll come up with…” his hands come back up, one loosely and easily encircling your entire throat. “Like sneaking into a man’s room in the middle of the night and climbing into his bed naked.” He means to sound chastising but his lust is difficult to mask. Your giggle lets him know you take it lightly.

“Not some man’s room… your room, Gyomei.”

It’s like you want to set him off.

“Should I go?” He can’t deny the way it ignites him to have you here.

“No.” He groans lightly, hands finally taking the dip you’d both been aching for and feeling your chest. “You don’t get to leave now. At least not until you explain what is it is you search for.”

“Relief?” He frowns, but becomes quickly distracted by the malleable flesh in his hands, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples and drawing little sighs from you.

“A-and… I guess confirmation.” He pinches on little bud, rewarded with a tiny moan and the arching of your back.

“Confirmation for what?” He murmurs, debating if you being atop him would be easier.

“That you like me.” He halts, startled by the confession.

“You thought I didn’t like you?” He clarifies, finally deciding and easily lifting you up by the hips to sit on his stomach, thighs on either side of him.

“I didn’t know if it was the sort between lovers or not…” he nods, finally understanding.

“I want you deeply, sweet girl.” He doesn’t miss the shiver which shakes you when he calls you that, smile tilting higher into a crooked smirk as he lifts his hands and runs them over your ass, gently squeezing each cheek and then moving to touch your thighs.

You don’t speak as he feels you up, quiet aside from small pleasurable mewls when he plays with your breasts or spreads your ass and let’s cool air hit your cunt.

“Do you touch yourself?”

“Y-yes…?”

“To the thought of me?” You feel your body heat.

“Yes. Always to the thought of you.” Your answer makes him groan, hips rutting up into nothing as he squeezes your hips.

“What do I do to you then, in your fantasies.” He’s desperate to know, desperate to recreate it. Your nails dig into the muscle on his chest, dwarfed on top of him like this.

“Oh, well, I… sit on your face.” He quirks a brow at the odd fantasy, unfamiliar with such an act.

“And do what?”

“Let you lick me, down here.” He allows you to guide his hand to the warmest place on your body, his mind blanking as he realizes.

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to do that though, let’s do what you want—oh!” He’s hauling you up like a doll onto his face, thighs spread on either side and your pussy spread and easily accessible now for his mouth. Gyomei doesn’t hesitate now, tongue slipping out as dragging through your folds as if he’s done this before. He hasn’t but he makes up for it with his wide and powerful tongue and eagerness to learn.

“Gyomei! I—ngh~!” Your moan when he licks at your pussy is more than he ever imagined. The wanton swivel of your hips as you grind down only make him more feral, large hands firmly on your ass and keeping you pressed down. Oxygen the least of his concerns as he licks and sucks until your writhing and digging your nails into his hair while you cry out for him.

He likes this act much more than his own daydreams of being intimate with you, the heady taste of your slick and sounds of your pleasure like a drug.

“I’m going to cum—!” You’re so close it’s a wonder you don’t tip over even as he lifts you completely off his face.

“H-huh?” You sound dazed and confused, so cute it makes him want to settle you down on his face again but he stops himself.

You’re on your back, looking up at his figure not blanketing you, one arm keeping him up as he lifts your chin and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips.

“You can’t cum yet.” You feel irritable having your orgasm denied, pouty expression unseen but tone converting your emotions.

“Why?” Gyomei smiles, kissing you again and forcing your mouth open to play with your tongue, sliding his thigh between your own so you can grind on him for relief.

He breaks away with a string of saliva connecting you for a moment, warm breath fanning over you. “It will hurt taking me, but it will hurt less if you cum while I’m inserting it.”

Oh. It made sense actually.

Except he doesn’t move ahead to fucking you like you wanted, asking you for more fantasies you‘ve had of him.

“Using your fingers…” and he opened you up more than any man has ever with his fingers alone. Two alone stuffing your poor cunt seemingly to max and once more bringing you to the edge until you felt like crying when he pulled away.

“Shh,” he cooes, mildly upset he’s causing you distress and equally amused by how cute he finds your grumbling as he rearranges you again. This time he just rolls your clit gently with his thumb and kisses you, lavishing your neck in love bites you’ll surely need help covering in the morning and then giving attention to your breasts.

“Gyomei please!” Your third denial felt nearly painful, your core cramping with the desperate need for release as you wiggle and struggle beneath him.

“You’ll be very sorry if I take you now, be good for me, little lotus.” He kisses away your tears of frustration, once more spearing you open with two fingers until you’re moaning and rolling your hips into him, then he adds a third.

He stills when you hiss in pain, concern painting his features as he moves to pull them out only for your hand to stop him.

“It’s okay! I’m alright, it just stings a little.”

“We can stop here, I’ll make you cum and we can go back to sleep—,”

“No! I want you, please.”

He feels hesitant until you begin to relax, body finally accepting three fat fingers stretching your little hole out as slick drips down his palm and soaks into bed below.

“G-Gyomei please let me cum, I can take you even if I do, I just need—!” You’re so close again, but he’s stringent as he pulls free from your soft tight walls with a pop. Your whine of frustration goes ignored as he finally reaches his own limit.

“I’m going to sit you in my lap.” You’re pliant in his hold as he sits up and drags you with him, placing your back to his front as he unties his yukata and allows himself to be free. He gives himself a few pumps, balls swinging heavy as he sits down with you.

You regret looking down in curiosity. Having known some men, despite being quite big physically, can have small penises.

Gyomei isn’t one of them apparently, his caution not without cause as you see the enormous cock he carries, the thick veiny shaft frightening and leaking pre-cum like a stream. Even his balls were ridiculously large, and you briefly pondered taking his offer of going to sleep.

You shook it off as you felt a gentle kiss to your temple, body relaxing as he began another round of torture to your clit with more gentle rolls with his fingers.

“Relax for me, you’re being so good, all mine,” he’s mumbling, body tense as he holds himself back and prepares mentally to keep calm as he lifts you up and lets the plush tip kiss your entrance. Then you’re feeling pleasure and pressure like nothing you‘ve ever felt before, mind going blank as you cum while he stuffs you to full capacity, Gyomei similarly struggling as he moans feeling your gooey walls contract and try to push him out even as gravity drags you down on his cock.

“Gyo—hah—!” You can hardly breathe, body struggling to connect the pain while you’re writhing pleasure as he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up and down, still touching your swollen nub, bullying his cock into you one inch at a time. Your squeals of shock and euphoria nearly make him lose it, and when his tip finally smushes up against your cervix, he cums hard.

“I-I can feel it filling me—,” your eyes roll back as hot spurts of cum pump into your womb, Gyomei’s arm like an anchor as he groans and rocks you gentle against him.

“Feels so good…” he’d never known sex could feel like this, that you felt like this, but he’s unable to pull out despite his cock becoming sensitive. Instead he keeps you in place, plugging your little hole with his cock and keeping every drop of cum inside you where it belongs.

That thought startles him. Did he want to make you pregnant? Did he want a family?

More than anything—

Gyomei groans, hushing you as you whine and wiggle in his lap, feeling his cock swelling thick and hard again inside you. “Gyomei—s’too much,” you feel like you’ll burst, body already exhausted but he’s hardly done it seems as he begins to bounce you again, feeling more akin to a toy as his shaft splits your pussy open. The slick squelching noises blend with your moans and his grunts, his cock burying itself as deeply as possible each thrust as he murmurs praise down into your ear.

“So good for me. Taking all of me so well,”

“Do you like feeling my cum inside you? Do you want more?”

“I’m going to fill you up again, make you nice and full.”

“Going to put a baby inside you, let everyone know you’re mine now.”

You’re gone, too cock drunk to do much else but cum around him and moan, drool spilling down your chin in a thin line as he takes away all coherent thoughts.

You awake the next morning sore and groggy, face confused as you look at a room not your own.

You glance down at the arm keeping you trapped, merely draped over you but so weighted you’d need to wake him to move.

He got you filthy last night, cum coating all of you inside and out before he’d washed you and put you to bed. The memory brings heat to your face as you burry yourself into the bed and smile.

He’s yours now too.

Your story to be told as one from rags to riches.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[nina-renmen]

Bloodied Love

Yandere Homelander x supe reader pt.1

Summary: He never expected to have a soulmate. His mark was never there, so what happens once it appears where you touched him? A girl like you, not even human. You fed off of his kind, but that dosn’t deter him from the horrors he has planned. You deprived him of your love, and now he won’t let go of you…even if he has to kill you.

Warnings: This is a Yandere fic so there will be blood, gore, ect. There will be nsfw themes and scenes in here as well as drugging and other things. Reader is not a human but she’s a water and air spirit called a Nokken. Reader has a hatred for humans

A mysterious dark figure has yet again saved the city once more. Could this be a new hero on the rise? Stay tuned for more-“ 

A [skin color] hand pressed the big red button on the dainty remote. Though her strength was controlled she almost crushed it. “Looks like someone’s getting famous.” Y/n looked away from the black screen and towards her friend. Her milky white eyes began shifting back into their natural [eye color] shade. “I guess.” Y/n mumbled. Her sharp claws slowly retracting. Almost like bear claws. “Dosn’t really matter when we have hero’s killing innocent civilians.” Y/n stated, standing up she towered over her friend, “You know Ivan…I’m not even sure if this hero thing is what I want.” 

The shorter male who at the time was drinking a glass of wine had choked on the bitter substance. His black soulmate mark seemed to jump as he shifted quickly. The dark red liquid running down his chin as he scrambled to wipe it away. “What?! How come?” Ivan asked, his honey brown eyes widened. “It’s not because of that accident right?! Because if that’s it you should know that it’s not knew-“ 

“Thats the problem…I-“ Y/n paused as her radio began to go off. Signaling an attack. Ivan tilted his head towards the door as he looked down at y/n’s outfit. “You’re still in your suit. Best get going.” He said in a fatherly tone. Y/n smile but scoffed in order to cover it up. She walked out the front door. Her body taking her towards the site immediately.

She could still feel his blood on her. The blood of her comrades she worked with, the blood of Ivan. The gaze of his blood still lingered in his mouth. There was nothing left, only his half eaten head that lie in the ground. A horrified expression laid on his dead face. She didn’t feel that urge anymore. That burning sensation that told her to eat, eat, eat. 

She knew she didn’t want to. He gave her no choice!! He was out for her blood! He was out for her abilities! She was just big game to him. A long cat and mouse game that she was oblivious to playing. A bounty on her head! He only wanted the money, he was like all the other rotten humans in this world! All the dirty, disgusting, vermin-

A single drop was able to knock her from her thoughts. And then the camera flashing began as she stood at the foot of the plane. American press were taking pictures of her. Fans screamed her name, but y/n’s smile had not reached her eyes. For she held no pleasure in standing before these people. Her mother country, Brazil had sent their number one hero to help America. A oncoming agreement came from the two countries and a treaty was made. America gives them resources and money and they gave up…..her. But that did not mean she would abandon her past. Even if she were to live here for a few years before going back home. 

“[Hero Name]! How does it feel to be on American soil?!” One of the interviewers asked, shoving their mics in her face. They don’t really care, they wanted the money. They all only wanted money. 

Y/n’s eyes trailed down to meet the woman’s eyes. A flash of nervousness appeared within her irises. Her green eyes meeting y/n’s milky white ones. Y/n tilted her head to the side, examining if she even wanted to speak with the woman. “It feels just like home.” Y/n finally spoke up, flashing a polite smile towards the smaller woman. She stood at a tall height of 5’8, her form taller than most women she knew, and yet smaller than most men. 

“[hero name]! Can you describe your powers of being a Nokken?!” Another reporter questioned. Y/n’s hand twitched but no one batted an eye. They probably didn’t even notice. “A magician never reveals her tricks.” Y/n said in a happy tone. That same eye catching smile was forever carved in her face. And yet again her eyes did not match. But of course no human cared. Humans were easily deceived, they were easily eaten- 

‘Dont think like that.’ Y/n thought to herself. And almost immediately the attention was finally directed off of her. “It’s homelander!” A random person states the obvious. Y/n attempted to slink away but a strong arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Thank you for the love! But I wanted to welcome in the new hero everyone’s been raving about!” The blue eyed man exclaimed. Y/n made no attempt to look up at him, for she knew that if she did she might as well be provoked to hit him. And she doubted that would do anything. “Smile.” Homelander whispered but the muscles in y/n’s face remained locked in. A neutral expression on her face as she made eye contact with reporters. She wouldn’t be a fraud like the man above her was. 

“Thank you for the warm welcome but I best be going homelander. Maybe we’ll cross paths again.” Y/n says loud enough for the reporters to hear as y/n smiles and begins to be escorted out of the airport.

The cool air hit her. Rain drops fell from the sky, turning her once [skin color] skin into a sickly grey. Her hair turning into an inky black color. She was not only a water based supe but an air one as well. The combination brought on many fans and onlookers that wished to be her. Or dispise her. 

“You left in a hurry.” That same familiar voice echoed throughout the empty streets. People were off the roads due to the storm. Y/n looked over her shoulder, this time her milky white eyes meeting his bright blue ones. “Was I supposed to linger?” Y/n questioned, turning her body towards him. She stood tall, her form didn’t look weak. 

“Not necessarily, just….unusual.” He replied. “Usually supes stick around to talk to the number one hero in the world.” 

“In America.” Y/n replied, slightly cutting him off. 

“Pardon?” He questioned. The smile on his face was fake. It didn’t reach his eyes, it looked like a mask. A horrible one at that. 

“You are the number one hero in America. Who’s to say the world when you haven’t even stepped out of it before?” Y/n questioned. Homelander gave y/n an annoyed look. “Anyway Mr retriever, I best get going.”

”Mr retriever?” Homelands questioned, he took off one of his gloves in order to get the water out of it. 

“You look like one.” Y/n spoke as she patted his arm whilst walking past him. Homelandee furrowed his eyebrows. Who does this girl think she is? He’s number one- 

The blonde haired male could feel a burning sensation on his forearm. He glanced down, not thinking it’d be anything only for his eyes go linger the name, y/n l/n was imbedded into his arm. His eyebrows furrowed, whose name was this? As realization began to sink in that this was his soulmates name…where ever she was he’d find her.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 32 - All Blends 3

Holy shit its been a long time since I've updated this. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter and be on the lookout for the next one in the next few days!

Summary! You meet Katakuri, and the boys are upset and make plans to get you back!

Peppermint Tea Masterlist -> HERE

You stare at Big Mom in horror. Wife? You’d heard about the Emporer before and her obsession with expanding her family, but never in a million years did you think that you would be up for the chopping block. The emperor cackles at the look you send her.

“Oh don’t look so down, princess. If you hadn’t disappeared all those years ago, we wouldn’t have had to drag you back here,” The woman hisses down at you, and you watch in disgust as you watch Charlotte pick up a plate of sweets and begin to scarf them down, talking with her mouth full of cake, “But it’s no matter. My sons tell me that you are pregnant, so any child that you have will be taken care of. That way, you can be free for my sweet Katakuri.”

You don’t like the way she says this as if the baby that grows inside of you is nothing but a burden to be thrown away and forgotten. You grit your teeth, and take a look at the man who is to be your “husband”. Despite his rather feral look and the sharp teeth, you can see poking out from between his lips, there is a softness in his gaze that tells you he isn’t exactly happy with the arrangement that his mother has made for him. You want to shout and argue, but you know that even if you did, nothing would change. No threats that you made would be taken seriously, not when you were in the middle of Big Mom’s territory.

Unbidden, your devil fruit activates, sending a chill through the room and making Sukuna grumble and growl from where he lies pressed against your chest. Hank whines and presses himself closer to your leg, and his support makes you feel a tiny bit better about your situation. You wish more than anything that your boys were here so that they could shield you away, and you would never have to look at this horrid woman again.

“Hmm, if anything, your being pregnant shows how fertile you are. It won’t be long before you are able to supply me with a whole new host of grandchildren!”

You grimace at the way the emperor so casually says this, as you were nothing but a broodmare to be used to make her family bigger. You clutch Sukuna tighter against your chest, pulling comfort from the way his claws dig into your flesh. The pain clears your head, and you ignore Big Mom as best you can as she rants and raves about how beautiful her grandchildren will be once she has them.

Finally, Katakuri seems to take pity on you and speaks up, his voice deep and muffled from behind his scarf, “I think she understands why she is here, mother. Let me take her to our rooms.”

Big Mom lets out a massive sigh, rolling her eyes before she makes a shoo motion, “Oh fine, then. Take away my fun.”

Katakuri grumbles something unintelligible and then stomps over to you. You crane your neck, hearing it pop as you look up at him. You meet his eyes, and then he crouches down, and you come face to face with him.

He is handsome up close, the edges of his mouth broken up by what looks like stitches, but his voice is soft when he speaks, “You have little legs. I will carry you if you wish?”

You lick your lips and shrug. If it would get you away from Big Mom quicker, then you weren't about to say no.

“Please?”

You watch him set his hand down, palm up, and carefully, you turn around and sit down, keeping Sukuna tucked close to your chest. His palm is big enough that Hank can climb up with you, though most of his shaggy body spills into your lap. You hang on tight to his sleeve when Katakuri stands and begins to leave the obvious throne room behind.

You try your best to memorize the twists and turns of the castle, but it proves impossible for you with how the inside dips and curves do not make any sense to your brain. Katakuri is silent all the way up until he makes it to his room, and he is careful as he sits you back down on the floor.

The two of you stare at one another, at a loss of words, until his voice fills the room, “You were to be my wife, but your parents denied my mother.”

You frown. That didn't sound correct. As much as Mihawk and Shanks had broken your trust, after that first call with the warlord after you had sent them away, you still felt like you could believe them. Mihawk had explained everything that he knew about the destruction of your home. He would not have omitted any details to you unless he truly did not know about them. Your chest aches, and you have to force the urge to burst into tears just thinking about the two men. You missed them so much. You wanted them here to steal you back and to get you and your baby to safety. You tune back in when the giant of a man keeps talking.

“Maybe you would have been happy with me if your parents had not disrespected my mother, but I can't see that you will never be happy here. Not when you have someone that you already love.”

You look at Katakuri in surprise, brows raised as your curl your free arm around your stomach. Hank, who had been silent other than his occasional growling at the men and woman who had escorted you to Big Mom, suddenly sat up, the big lug loping forward to sit in front of you, his tongue lolling out as he began to pant. You stare at him, brow pinched in thought. The dog has always been an excellent judge of character, and it makes you think that maybe Katakuri might be someone you can trust.

“I do, and they will be looking for me,” you tell him, and Katakuri nods like he already knows this.

And he did. The fourth son of Big Mom had done his research after Wiseman had made it known that you had been found. He had told his mother to leave you be, that they had already decimated your island, killed your family and subjects. The only ones left of the Nammu Isles were you and your brother, so it's not like either of you had much to offer the Charlotte family.

Unfortunately, she had scoffed and raved at him, rolling her eyes and stuffing her face, declaring that neither of you was useless. The Nammu Isles were known for their beauty, the string of islands, and the people who lived there. To be married into any of the families was to be considered an honor, for your children would retain the beauty that their parents harbored.

Katakuri had grumbled and backed down, not having wanted to argue with his mother, but seeing you now, belly swollen with child, and your eyes looking at him like you knew things that he didn't, made him think that his mother had bitten off more than she could chew.

He already knew that your lover was Red-Haired Shanks, one of the other four emperors of the sea. Katakuri had not thought it wise for his family to go steal you away from your home, but there was little he could do or say once his mother had an idea in her head. It is then that your words properly register in his mind, and he looks at you, tilting his head to the side.

“They?”

The temperature in the room drops several degrees, and he watches this tiny slip of a woman look at him in pity, but there is a mean grin that paints her lips.

“Yes, they,” you murmur, and Sukuna turns, glaring at Katakuri with oddly familiar golden eyes, “Red-Haired Shanks, and the warlord. Dracule Mihawk.”

-----

Mihawk and Perona sail straight to the New World. They arrive in half the time it would have usually taken, the ocean seeming to be on their side and aiding them in getting the two of them there swiftly. The warlord feels broken, his heart aching from the pain of having you taken and the knowledge that it was Shasks at fault.

He should have known that the redhead would never be able to keep his damn mouth shut. He never should have trusted him with you. Dracule should have demanded that Shanks leave you and your island alone, to never return even if it would have made you upset.

Maybe then Mihawk would have never felt compelled to tell you about his involvement. Maybe then you would have never sent him away in the first place, and none of this would have ever happened. He grits his teeth, rage flooding his chest only to be swiftly discarded into grief and disappointment. The warlord had trusted the other man, had opened up his heart, and told Shanks that he loved him not a week after Benn had rushed to them to tell them about you being abducted.

Shanks looks at him with wide eyes, standing before Mihawk after the warlord had hung up the transponder snail. The redhead swallowed harshly, the drunken stupor clearing from his eyes as he licked his lips.

“You... Did you really mean it?”

Mihawk opens his arms for the redhead, and Shanks falls into his chest. He wraps his arms around the younger man, lips pressing against his brow.

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it, Red.”

Mihawk forces the memory away, bowing forward to rest his elbows on the desk inside the ship and hold his face in his hands. Everything had been going so well for the three of you, and in the span of a month, it had all gone to absolutely shit.

They hadn't even gotten the chance to come and see you before the Big Mom pirates had shown up. Had been waiting for your call so that you could tell them that you were ready for them to come back home, to the island, to Hank and the other animals, to you.

Fuck. How had things gone so bad so quickly? Mihawk knew that the blame truly lay on both of them. Him for keeping your past from you, and Shanks for not knowing when to keep his big mouth shut for once. Dracule still feels so angry, so betrayed that the other man had given you a drunken accident or not. How was he ever supposed to forgive Shanks for this? How were they supposed to go back to how things were?

That's not even considering your brother. Tomura would be a problem in the future when they get you back. Your brother would never let Mihawk have you alone ever again, especially once he figures out that you are pregnant with their child.

“You know, if you had listened to me in the beginning, this probably wouldn't have happened.”

Mihawk sighs heavily at the sound of Perona's voice. He looks up to see her leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, and a scowl on her face. He feels bad enough over Shanks and his own blunder. He doesn't need the reminder.

“_ would still be on her island, and her home wouldn't have been destroyed. You didn't even go see her home with Shanks, Mihawk. I know you're mad at him, but it would have been the least you could do. He's just as upset she is gone as you are.”

Mihawk glares at her, hands clenching as he drops them to the table and shoves himself up, a snarl on his lips, “This wouldn't have happened if Shanks knew how to be responsible for once.”

Perona rolls her eyes, lips pursing, “Do you know how many times I've almost slipped up? How could Shanks have known that someone would recognize her name? It's not like he went around to every island on the Grand Line asking people if they knew who she was.”

He grits his teeth. Mihawk had already thought about that, but it was easier for him to blame Shanks for this than to completely blame himself, no matter how unfair it was.

“He's a fool,” Mihawk grumbles, and despite how much he wants to hang on, to cling onto that anger, the warlord begins to feel himself start to deflate. It used to be easy to cling to those feelings of negativity, but after the past months, with having Shanks back so close, and with you there to temper any hurt feelings, it was hard to stay upset.

Because at the end of the day, Mihawk still loved the redhead, even if Shanks had broken his promise. He hears Perona snort and stride across the deck, dropping into the chair across from him.

“A love-sick fool who needed you,” she grumbles, and Mihawk sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving her a look under the brim of his hat.

“You don't have to remind me, ghost girl, but the faster we get to Big Mom’s territory, the faster we can get _ back.”

Perona sighs and stands from her chair, rounding the desk and pulling her father figure in for a hug. Surprisingly, Mihawk doesn’t fight against her, so Perona tightens her hold, keeping her voice sure, “You’ll get her back. I know you will.”

-----

Shanks stares at the ruins of his home, heart in his throat, and hand clenched against his chest. So many memories, all gone with just a few words that came from his dumb mouth. Benn stands behind him, a silent pillar of support that the redhead appreciates. He clenches his eyes shut, teeth grit before he opens them up, and forces himself to step toward his home.

He is halfway up the path when a furry body blocks his way, and Shanks can't help but feel a shot of relief when Neal bleats at him, those beady eyes looking at him with recognition, and Shanks carefully reaches out, hoping to not get bit by the goat. Surprisingly, Neal butts his head forward and allows the redhead to pet him for a second before he grumbles and stalks off to his ruined pen where he stomps at the ground. He shakes his head and follows after the goat, frowning down at the foot imprints that dot your front yard.

He takes in your ruined gardens, heard breaking all over again when he looks at the destruction. You would be devastated to see this. All of your hard work from over the years gone in an instant. Shanks forces down that guilt that eats away at him and focuses instead on the rage that had begun to slowly simmer in his gut. Emperor or not, the second that Big Mom had heard that he was your lover, the woman should have dropped any kind of plans she had for you.

Shanks and his crew had held off Kaido from joining the battle at Marineford and won. It pissed him right the hell off that Big Mom thought that she could send out her family and drag you back to Whole Cake without thinking that Shanks wouldn't do anything about it.

Did the woman think that you were just some run-of-the-mill woman that he would drop within a couple of days? Well, if so. Charlotte had another thing coming. Shanks has to fight down his haki, lest it unravel, and send what remained of his home crashing down. He sucked in a deep breath, face set in a terrifying scowl as he walked through the open door.

Shanks pushes the door open, a grin on his face, “Oh honey, I'm home!”

He can hear you leave the kitchen, arm open just in time for you to slam into his chest, and a wide grin on your face as you stare up at him. Shanks laughs jovial, matching your grin as he tightens his grip around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around in a circle.

“Welcome back, love,” you greet him, and Shanks will never tire of hearing you call him that. He dips and presses his lips to your own. The kiss chaste but full of affection, “How was your trip?”

He walks past the living room, trailing his hand over the blackened wood as the rage builds and builds inside of him until Shanks feels like he might explode. He eases through the kitchen and looks down when his foot kicks something. He bends, picking up the warped bowl, the name Hank lovingly painted on the side of it. Carefully, he puts it back down and moves on.

There is hardly anything that is salvageable, but Shanks would make damn sure that he would store away and preserve anything that he found. You deserved that much. The books and record player that Mihawk had given you are melted. The maps along the far wall of the living room are nothing but ash that now coats everything in the room.

Shanks stops just outside the bedroom, heart in his throat before he pushes the door open and walks inside. This room, since the door was shut, had been preserved much better than the rest of your home. He looks at your bed and swallows dryly when he sees that it is covered in an assortment of his and Mihawk's clothing. He wonders how large you've grown in the time the three of you have been separated. You must have started to wear their clothes the larger your belly became, and the mental image of his shirt streatching over your stomach makes a heat pool unbidden in his gut.

But he shoves the feeling away for now. There would be time for that later, once Shanks was able to piece his family back together. With a sigh, he sits on the bed, bending at the waist and holding his face in his hand. He pushes past the anguish that wants to choke him and makes himself think.

He would sail straight to Whole Cake, and if Big Mom and her family did not give you back to him, then he would destroy them. There was a reason why no one could unseat him from his emperor status. Red-Haired Shanks and his crew were not ones to cross, so he would show the other emperor what it meant to cross him. He could only hope that you would be okay until he got there, and if you weren’t? The entire world would feel his fury.

With that decision cemented in his mind, Shanks stands from the bed, then scoops to grab your favorite shirt that he knows came from him. He would dress you in his clothes once more when he got you back, would find you before Mihawk could, and present you to the warlord and beg both of you for forgiveness. Shanks was not one to give up, so he would grovel and plead at your feet until you gave in.

Shanks takes one last look around before he leaves the house, meeting Benn back outside where he is watching Neal. His first mate looks up at him when Shanks steps to his side, “Ready to go?”

The redhead nods, lips tugging into a frown when he spots the goat and the three chickens that mill around his hooves, “He’s not going to like it, but we aren’t leaving him here.”

Benn huffs a laugh, “Come on, I’ll help you wrestle him on board.”

-----

Tomura sets sail not long after Mihawk leaves the island. He isn't about to wait around for the redhead, and thankfully, they've not been here long enough for many of his crew to disembark. He gathers the ones who followed him on shore up and orders them to meet him on board, barking commands to get them underway and back to the New World. They would take the same route as last time and hopefully catch up to the warlord before he made it to Whole Cake.

It still pisses him off that the two men had found your island, but it's not like Tomura had been there to stop them. You probably trusted the other men more than you would ever trust him, your own brother, and the thought fills him with guilt.

He had been the one to leave you behind, after all. Maybe if he had stayed with you, had been the big brother that you had always admired and loved, then none of this would have happened. He sighs and runs a hand through his white hair, his brow pulled tight in a scowl. There was no point in thinking about what-ifs, however. Tomura had lost his chance to see you grow up and get to know you when he left you here, but he would help save you, and he would know his little sister again.

The navy would be pissed that he was going off orders, but he didn’t care. Delemur had joined the military to keep himself safe, away from Big Mom and her hoard of children. But he would take on the emperor herself if that was what it took to get you away from them, you were the most important thing to Tomura, and he wouldn’t let anyone stand in the way of that.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27 @breadedloafs @enpvrirnce @gottalovethefandom @mfreedomstuff @caniseethefourthsword @olenoname

[muffinsin]

honestly Ive been so interested with what the hc of the sister would be when they got reborn. The emotions, confusion, love they got from Alcina. What did Alcina need to help them with. Like bathing,clothes,eating or even speaking. How did the other lords react to the girls and how did the girls react to the other lords.

I guess this will be more around them as new siblings and daughters to Alcina.

I would love to hear your thoughts about this but like always take your time.

This is so wholesome🙌 Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

A mass of flies, withering, chirping, moving here and there. This is how it began

Nothing special, even, Alcina thought back then. Flies. Insects. A pest

Was it a punishment? She had asked for daughters, not pets. Certainly not such tiny, winged ones

What a cruel gift it was

Of course, she looked after the three large piles of flies. After all, they were given to her by Mother Miranda. But- why? Would the insects become drone-like spies, perhaps? Alcina scowled at the thought, back then. Surely, these things would be by far better off at Heisenberg’s!

What a cruel fate, after she had been given the promise of daughters! Three girls. Instead, three piles of nearly dead, rotting, insects

What to do with the bedrooms?

The cribs?

The toys?

The pacifiers?

The tiny dresses? The cute shoes she had purchased for her future daughters?

The countless hours spent at night trying to come up with names for the trio she would soon help deliver into this world

Perhaps, it is good she couldn’t come up with any so far. Not that rotting, infected insect-drone-spies would be worth any name! Something of no consciousness, no thought, no sense of self awareness

At least, this is what she thought…

Bela

Alcina remembers the day her eldest came into the world perfectly well

She remembers the snowy wind smashing against the windows, the cold breeze in the castle fought off by warm air from the fireplace

She remembers sitting by such a fireplace, down in the cellars, writing her usual reports on the cadou-infected flies when suddenly…she heard a sound

A cracking. Small, and squishy. Alarmed, she had jumped up. It sounded almost as though the insects were…splitting..!

And to her greatest surprise and horror, they did

Thousands she so carefully tended to, simply snapping in half and splitting open

Only, did new ones crawl from them. More, and more. So many she had to take a step back

Then, her golden eyes widened as the flies assumed a form

A woman, petite and slim, sitting on the floor, biting the air and squealing quietly as if in fear of the strange amount of insects whirling around

A woman…

A daughter? Could it be?

She remembers, she suddenly felt anxiety. She had not anticipated this any more. Suddenly, she thought of all the emotions her appearance would trigger

Pain. Fear. Hurt. Anger. Disgust

Would she scare the woman off the moment she came into this world?

When the woman turned, it was Alcina who was startled, though

The woman sported a pair of beautiful, bright golden eyes, such as Alcina’s

She bore golden locks of hair, smeared with blood and with dead insects stuck inside, yet beautiful in their colour nonetheless

Then, a squeak came from the blonde again. She looked up at her, worried

“Mama”

Alcina still cannot comprehend why she had said it. She simply felt it, then, when those wide, fearful, golden eyes looked up at her. Fear, that was not directed at her

And the woman? She so eagerly beamed at the phrase, as if understanding her

Upon closer inspection, Alcina noticed: while locked in the body of an adult, the woman seemed truly reborn. Her child

Her daughter

Neither of them needed words from the blonde- they both understood the deep bond created

With a smile tugging at her lips, Alcina still remembers the thought that had come to her then:

“My beautiful girl. I know you will be a bright one, my dear. I will name you, Bela”

Again, the reborn smiled widely. Alcina heard the flies surrounding them buzzing happily

Yes, a smart one indeed, to seemingly understand her mother, even if she was unable to respond properly back then

With a warm smile, she picked her eldest up, and with a look thrown over her shoulder at the other two piles of flies, she held her darling Bela close, her embrace promising unconditional love, care, protection and warmth

Cassandra

Just as with her eldest, Alcina often fondly thinks back to the rebirth of her fierce middle child

She remembers having put Bela to bed, a makeshift crib in her own bed; she hadn’t quite anticipated her daughters to be adult-sized, though looking back, she could face palm at such naivety

Unlike with Bela however, she was prepared this time

Equipped with warm clothing and a glass of blood, she waited at the table in the warm room, until finally, she heard the strange noise again

Wet, squishy cracks. Loud buzzing, as if irritated

She heard the frustrated squeals and whimpers immediately as her second child was reborn

Upon gazing down at her, Alcina noticed: this one was a brunette, with strong, deep golden eyes. A lazy eye, and thick lips covered in blood. Whose? Alcina has yet to figure that out to this day

She remembers the little one’s growls and squeals to make up for words unable to be spoken

And yet, she understood her daughter’s frustration immediately

“Calm yourself, darling”, she coaxed, one of her large hands gently cupping the infantile woman’s head while the other made quick work of swatting away the flies that buzzed around her and irritated her so

“There, it’s all good, my little fly”, she hummed

Yet, it was then her turn to squeak in surprise, when she went to brush the blood from her daughter’s lips and felt sharp, untrained teeth dig into her hand instead

Shocked, she drew her hand back with a loud roar coming from the unexpected pain

And yet, no anger that bubbled up in her came to surface, as the quivering lip and wide, surprised eyes belonging to her daughter were indication enough that she did not intend to harm her

As such, a smile came to her lips. She had found the proper name for this one, and with her injured hand cupping the brunette’s face, she announced:

“Cassandra, my fiery little huntress”

Like her eldest, Cassandra seemed to understand her, too, clasping her hands eagerly

And again, she heard the flies her darling was made of buzz excitedly and warmly. A bond, a promise

And yet, unlike little Bela, this one was less eager to be picked up by her mother, so when she was taken under her armpits, she merely growled and phased right through Alcina in the form of many, little swarms of flies

Confused, she had titled her head. She still laughs a little upon remembering this

It took a few more tries and coaxing, even convincing the reborn toddler-like brunette that she could not walk just yet, but eventually she felt her middle child against her, too

And while she expected her to be fussy, she was anything but

In fact, Alcina noted how still the brunette became, utterly focused on patting at her chest in an attempt to reach and touch the heart she felt and heard beating gently underneath

At last, with a smile and a warm, loving kiss pressed to Cassandra’s forehead, she promised love, care, protection and warmth, too

Daniela

Two daughters reborn, tucked in in her large bed, cuddled into one another, snoring and whining at one another in their sleep

Twisting and turning, stealing their blankets from one another until Alcina tucked them in one each and wrapped them up snugly

However, a single pile is remaining

The youngest daughter

Alcina’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. Three daughters. Her daughters. Hers to raise, to guide, to love and nurture, to look after, to protect with her life should it come down to it

This time, Alcina was completely prepared, having learned from Cassandra that her youngest might also awaken with a near insatiable feeling of hunger

Her head snapped to the side, then. Ah, yes

The noise, again

When she heard the by then familiar snapping and cracking, she jumped to her feet quickly, eager to get close to the pile of flies

This time, however, her daughter seemed to have issues finding her way around in their swarm. Squeals and whines, growls and mewls were heard

Then, a hand reached out

Alcina nearly gasped in surprise when it latched onto her own, five fingers wrapping around her index and middle finger with surprising strength

“It’s all right, little one, they will calm soon”, she promised as the little bundle of flies and limbs seemed to grow fussy at the insects swarming around her

Then, slowly, more was revealed

Auburn hair, equally sticky and tangled with flies and blood, but evidently soft and long

A button nose, poking up and scrunching up in-between the swarms of flies

Upon tapping it with her fingertip, a little squeal was heard from the swarm. Alcina could have sworn the love she felt then shot right from her heart

Then, soft cheeks, with some baby fat still that her sister lack, soft, pink lips, and lastly, equally golden eyes

But they were special, too

It seems the cadou did not fully take this one’s eyes over, she noted, for she saw specks of green mixed into the gold irises

Then; another wave of emotions hit her. However, this one did not originate from her, but from the flies surrounding her and slowly bonding and connecting with her through the cadou they shared

A feeling was shared. Love. Confusion. Dependency

“I’m here, my little Daniela”, Alcina spoke lovingly

Unlike her sisters, the tiny redhead neither struggled, nor showed disinterest as she was picked off the cold floor, but rather immediately pushed herself to her mother and headbutted her neck affectionately

Alcina smiled, and with a reassuring squeeze of her youngest daughter’s back, she let her know of the love, care, protection and warmth she would always receive unconditionally, too

After this, life at the castle changed drastically, as did Alcina’s

Too little to walk, too little to stand, she was usually seen walking with three women attached to her

One, cradled in her left arm, the other in the right, and the third sat on top of her shoulders, as if a cat lounging on a window sill

She bathed them, and for the first few years would be the only to bathe them

Partly, this was to protect the staff from her daughters and their seemingly insatiable bloodlust, especially in their early years

Partly, it was merely protectiveness and possessiveness over her little ones

This was also made apparent in the way she kept them close at night

For the first few years, the three sisters slept in her bed, and eagerly so, tucked close like hatchlings sticking to their dragon mama. And right it was

One of the earliest activities done together was learning how to stand, walk and swarm

Cassandra, the stubborn little thing, was the first to succeed, swarming about happily and squealing while her sisters still stood like baby deers on their shaky legs

Still, Alcina praised each and every one of them for every little achievement they made

Whether this was standing, waddling to her occasionally, walking, or even swarming successfully

Then, there came hunting. A primal desire, but a necessary act her daughters seemed to enjoy a lot

Again, Cassandra picked up on catching her prey especially early on. Relying on strength she was gifted with, the brunette took down boars even in her first few years of her reborn life

Then, however, Alcina discovered it was Daniela who caught up quickly- quite literally

She realised, somewhat proud and dreadful at the same time, she had a runner

A quick little thing indeed, darting corners and scurrying along quickly the moment she mastered walking and swarming

Often, the tall, intimidating lady of castle Dimitrescu was seen chasing her youngest for all kinds of reasons, whether that be baths, mealtimes, bedtimes, or simply to catch her little runaway and prevent her from stumbling down some stairs

And while Bela certainly did not lack the quality to hunt with her sisters, Alcina noticed early on that her eldest took joy in other things

This way, she often sliced a deer the eldest was chasing, aware that she would be demotivated easily and was not as fast nor strong as her sisters

However, in the later years, Bela’s talent was discovered quickly: an academic one

For Bela was the one to learn to write, read and speak the quickest

Something Alcina has noticed and finds endearing to this very day, is that even back then her eldest copied her language, using phrases she heard her say and repeating them like a parrot

Funnily enough, this is where “man-thing” finds its origin; her eldest, repeating phrase after phrase like a parrot, catching this and that and mixing things here and there

So when Alcina one day complained about a man pathetic enough to attempt to sell her things, of course, her little parrot picked it up right away, lisping about what a “horrible man-thing” he was!

She decided she liked the phrase, and while Bela is unaware of what she has started to this day, she all too happily received the praise and head scratches she was showered in for her little slip up

In time, all three sisters are taught to read, write and express themselves properly. Enough so that Alcina encourages them to pick up more hobbies

And she was again there, supporting them though it all

She spent hours a day with bright little Bela on her lap, reading up on this and that, explaining hidden meanings to her daughter

Often, she’d keep her eldest with her at work, her presence soothing in difficult times, her curiosity refreshing

Then, of course, there was hunting with Cassandra. She always made sure to make extra time for this activity with her middle child

Afterwards, it was not uncommon for them to talk of weapons, another hobby and interest Alcina encouraged her to pursue

And lastly, her little Daniela, with her head up in the clouds, asking for Mother’s help with planting flowers and decorating the castle

She too encouraged her youngest in this, and smiles to this day when she enters rooms in the castle decorated by her bright girl

Of course, the library is among those, the room in which countless hours were spent reading and recreating fairytales

And the lords? Yes, they certainly knew a lot of the three fly-spawns

And still, Alcina saved it for a good century until they were allowed near. If only because it took her some good years to help them manage their bloodlust

The first Lord to meet them is Donna, the most trusted in Alcina’s eyes

The second, perhaps surprisingly, is Heisenberg

And while she lightly encouraged her darlings to tease and annoy him during his stay, to make his life a little more difficult, she found- to her greatest annoyance- that her two youngest absolutely loved the Lord, even as Bela stayed by her side to glare at the man-thing from across the room

Yet..she could not deny them the visits to the factory ever so often, even as they returned with sweaty dresses from hot steam and a strong smell of Lycans and metal

And why? Simply because they wore such precious smiles, talking for hours to no end about the newest soldiers and weapons crafted

Yes, her daughter’s smile whenever the factory was brought up was enough for her to tolerate the man-thing

And lastly, they were taken to a Lord’s meeting all at once, and only once, centuries after their rebirth

While Alcina talks about her daughters a lot, she prefers to keep them hidden away from the Lords and the meetings as much as she can

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare Part. 8

Aemond Targayen x Reader

Description: A raven arrives to King's Landing carrying news of Prince Lucerys' death. Aemond returns to find his wife has reverted back to the timid and fearful girl he'd first met, horrified by his actions and terrified of the darkness that festers within him.

Previous part

Writer's note: Here it is, the part I've been scared to write as this story has been mostly fluffy up to this point. This is angst city I'm not going to lie. I took inspiration from Stephanie Garber's Once upon a broken heart series. Even more angst to follow in the next part. Thank you as always to all you lovely readers!

Warnings: Aemond being possessive and a little toxic. Angst, angst, angst. Seriously, Aemond is in the trenches because his wife is mad at him. Female reader.

Years of training with Ser Cole to gain mastery over the sword, years spent studying to embody all that a Targaryen Prince should be, years bonded to the largest and most ancient Dragon in existence...all had taught Aemond control. But at the very real threat to those he loved at Aegon's coronation, the realisation that he did not have the power to guarantee the safety of his family, Aemond felt his tenous control over himself, over everything around him slipping.

Seeing Lucerys Velaryon again at Storm's End had been incendiary to Aemond, who already burned with rage and a desire for vengeance. The fear of losing those he loved, his fury at the Strong pup parading about the kingdom trying to steal his brother's inheritance, a loathsome feeling of vulnerability in the face of the boy who'd taken his eye from him and paid no recompense. All had lead him on a path of violence that there could be no turning back from. In killing Lucerys Velaryon, Aemond had begun a war that could lead to nowhere but death and destruction. He felt nauseous as he watched with horror the mangled pieces of Arrax fall from the sky. His mind swam with conflicting fears as he felt the true weight of what he'd done hit him, tightening his grip on Vhagar's reigns, the feel of the leather beneath his hands the only thing vesting him with a sense of reality. It did not matter that he had not meant to kill Luke, all that mattered was that he had lost control of himself and his dragon in turn. The Blacks would seek to retaliate tenfold, and if anything happened to his family now it would be his fault. The thought sent a jolt of fear tearing up Aemond's spine and he struggled to breathe, gasping for air. Then he thought of Y/N's reaction. He pictured her face contorted with disgust at his actions or worse still fear of him. The image sobered him somewhat as if a pitcher of ice cold water had been thrown over him and cleared his muddled senses. He gripped Vhagar's reigns and angled her in the direction of King's Landing. He expected it would not be long before Storm's End became aware of what had transpired and they would inevitably send ravens. He could not bear the thought of his wife hearing of what he'd done from any other lips but his own and that conviction had him pitching forward to urge Vhagar to fly faster.

The Prince's worst fears were realised the moment he stepped foot in the Red Keep as he was immediately rushed by his mother and The Hand, demanding explanations from him he could scarcely give and he knew then that he was too late. Whilst he had been panicking atop the clouds of Storm's End, Lord Baratheon had sent his ravens.

Aemond inhaled deeply, tentatively opening the door to the chambers he shared with his wife. Y/N's hair was mussed as if she'd been yanking at it and her breath was ragged as she paced about the room in agitation. Her head snapped up as he entered and he felt the look of fear in her eyes, of what he had done or of him, pierce his very soul.

He took small experimental steps towards her, unable to stop himself from reaching towards her. Though he immediately halted when she held a hand out to stop him.

Aemond was surprised to hear Y/N's voice break the silence first as whatever explanations, or apology he had prepared died on his lips.

"Is it true. Did you kill a child?" Both her gaze and her question were direct, but the waver in her voice sent a pang of pain through Aemond's heart.

He dropped his head, regret crashing over him all over again and contending painfully with the desperation he now felt to make Y/N understand that killing Luke had been a terrible mistake.

His voice got stuck in his throat as he took note of his wife's trembling form, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over at any moment. He nodded almost imperceptibly and watched in horror as Y/N brought a hand to her mouth to ineffectively smother a sob, a look of utter devastation and betrayal on her beautiful face before she turned away from him entirely.

Her breathing turned more erratic and she clutched her abdomen as if physically pained by his confirmation of the terrible truth that her husband was a kinslayer.

"It was a mistake." Even to Aemond, this sounded laughable, a pathetic excuse and when Y/N spoke again, her voice was icy.

"You told me once that I was your light, an escape from the darkness that has ever haunted you since you were a child. But Aemond, what you have done..."

Y/N shook her head and rubbed the tears from her eyes, turning back towards him with a fiery resolve that Aemond had never seen lighting his wife's eyes.  "Was it all a lie? Was I simply ensnared by pretty words that dull the senses. Is this who you have always been?"

Aemond stepped towards her again, his words frantic. "No, you know I would never harm you."

Y/N looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. "I don't know anything anymore."

Aemond reached for her again but felt his own face crumple as Y/N flinched away from him, his arms falling back to his sides rigidly. 

He took a step back, holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

"I will not touch you if you do not wish me to."

Y/N said nothing, only continued to stare at Aemond with wide and fearful eyes.  Aemond watched her carefully, wishing to beg for her forgiveness but realising she was in too much shock and much too upset with him to take in his accuses.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he bowed his head to her, trying to keep his voice even though he felt his throat constrict painfully at Y/N's rejection. "I will leave you for now. You need have no fear of me." Aemond turned on his heel, quickly exiting the room, not imagining there could be anything more painful to him than the way Y/N was looking at him, with such unbidden terror, as others had his whole life, as if he would hurt her.

Y/N felt as if a mist had been removed from her vision. For all that she had shared with Aemond and for all she'd thought she knew him, she could never have imagined him capable of murdering a child.

She didn't believe it at first when the raven arrived, couldn't believe it. Had her husband not already told her that he'd long ago forgiven Lucerys for the loss of his eye? Had he not allowed his nephew Jacaerys to strike him, laughing it off? But in the space of a few short hours, Aemond had slain his nephew, become a kinslayer and started a war. Y/N was not prepared for this life and her mind was consumed by fears of what was to come. For surely Rhaneyra would seek vengeance. Worse still was the fear that she'd never known Aemond at all. Had she been in love with a mirage this whole time? Y/N recalled reading of a plant in a book of botany helaena had insisted she borrow, that while attractive to look upon was deadly to the touch. Devil's Snare it had been called. Even its flowers were toxic, able to cause delirium or hallucinations. Is that what had happened to her when she fell in love with Prince Aemond Targaryen, not fully understanding how dangerous he truly was? She'd paced their shared chambers, hoping beyond all hope that Lord Baratheon was mistaken. That Aemond would return, sweep her up into his arms and reassure her that it was all a big mistake, that all would be as it was. But she knew by the look on Aemond's face as he entered the room, by the slow and careful way he approached her, that nothing would ever be the same between them again. It did not stop her from asking the truth of it and with his nod of confirmation she felt the breath knocked from her, clutching at her stomach to hold herself together.

She'd finched involuntarily as he made to touch her, his eyes widening in alarm as a sob tore through her. Y/N was reeling from the unsettling feeling that had wound its way deep in the pit of her stomach that she no longer knew her husband. And what she did not know about him, what she could not understand in the conflicting images of him as a loving and gentle husband and a man who could murder his nephew, caused a wave of genuine fear to rise up within her. Perhaps he would lash out if she spoke to her horror at what he'd done.

Though Aemond quickly dropped his hands, wincing as if in pain at her rejection of his touch. Part of her wanted to reach for him, beg him for an explanation, tell him that everything would be OK though she knew it wouldn't. But she was rooted to the spot, lost in staring at her husband who until that moment she'd thought she knew better than any living soul. As Aemond exited their chambers she felt little relief. He had said "for now" and Y/N was certain he would try to speak with her again on the morrow. She doubted she'd be any more prepared than she was now to hear his excuses, to force herself to come to terms with the fact that he had killed a child in cold blood.

When Aemond entered their chambers the next day, Y/N noted the determined set to his shoulders and the seriousness of his expression and knew that this time he would not leave until she'd heard his explanations. Y/N had tossed and turned the entire night before she'd come to her own decision, and nothing Aemond said could sway her from it. She needed space to think, to begin to fully come to terms with all that had transpired in the last few days since Aegon had been crowned...to consider how they would move forward knowing now what Aemond had done.

Aemond spoke quickly, allowing no room for interruption.

"I know you are upset with me, that you are afraid. But I ask you to hear what I have to say, my love." He paused briefly, observing her before continuing as he seemed to find what he was looking for in her expression.

"I did not wish to distress you any more than I could see you were. But I must tell you now that whilst my actions were brash, I had no intention of harming my nephew, only of intimidating him. I acted out of anger and I lost control. I am sorry for it."

Y/N was gladdened at least to know Aemond had not intended to kill his nephew, but it did not change the bitter fact that he had. And she could not as easily accept this as she knew he wished her too.

She wrung her hands nervously, frightened to ask for what she wanted. Aemond appeared calm in the moment, but she had seen first hand how quickly his temper could turn.

Her voice came out meeker than she would have hoped. "I wish to be installed in separate chambers for the time being." It hardly mattered. Aemond stumbled a few steps backwards as if she'd shouted at him.

His voice was ragged.

"Why?

Y/N lowered her gaze to the ground, unable to look up at Aemond.

"I cannot pretend that I am not horrified by what you have done. And I need space to even begin to comprehend it...let alone try to forgive you, Aemond."

Aemond's response was breathless, as if he were trying to speak though a pressing weight pushed down on his chest.

"You cannot stand to be in my presence then? Do you no longer love me?"

Y/N gawked at him.

"I'm not sure I even know you any more Aemond. If you could just allow me some time to think..."

Aemond practically snarled in response, his anger taking Y/N by surprise.

"So easily you cast our love aside. You were meant to stand by me always as my wife. Am I not your husband?"

Y/N felt her own anger rise up and she pushed through her timidity to voice it.

"So I must forgive you any transgression, silently stand by as you commit atrocities? Simply because I am your wife? My thoughts and feelings are my own."  Within seconds Aemond had crossed the room and possessively gripped her waist. "You are mine." 

Incensed, Y/N tried to push against the cage of his arms, huffing in frustration when she failed to move him even an inch. "You cannot possess a person, Aemond...If all you want from me is placid acceptance then perhaps it would be better to dissolve our union." She had not truly meant it, regretted it as soon as the words had left her mouth. But her words had the desired effect as Aemond's eye widened and his arms slackened around her. In the next second he had dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her skirts. He placed his forehead against her stomach, his anger seemingly entirely dissipated, his touch and voice all gentleness. "No, my love. I will give you anything. But not that. Never that. I did not mean it. Of course your mind is your own and I always want you to speak it. Shout at me, tear this place asunder, strike me if you must. I can live without your forgiveness if you feel you cannot give it, I can live with you hating me.  But I cannot live without you."

Y/N felt her own heart soften at his gentleness, but she was still too upset with him to just fall straight back into his arms.

"Then will you agree to my request?"

Aemond tensed, his grip tightening slightly on her hips before he nodded against the fabric of her dress.

"If it is what you need, then I will see to it."

Y/N prised Aemond's hands from her then, equal parts relieved by his assent and pained at seeing him this way.  She whispered a hurried "Thank you" before moving around him and hastening from his chambers. She expected to meet resistance with every step but as she passed over the threshold she briefly looked back to see thst Aemond had not moved even an inch.

In the days that followed, Aemond scarcely saw Y/N at all. If he did it was  a mere glimpse as she hurried down a hallway, headed for the chambers his mother had settled her in at his request. He had made to speak to her on one occasion as he's come across his lady wife emerging from her chambers. But as soon as she saw him she quickly retreated back into her room. Aemond had rested his forehead upon the door that separated him from his love briefly, feeling the distance between them like a dagger to the heart. He had not meant any of the harsh words he had spoken when they'd last met. Her rejection had stung him and he had lashed out like a petulant child, spoken to her and acted as if she were a possession of his rather than the woman he loved. In his own disgust at himself he'd tried to bear their separation as best he could, but he hoped that with time Y/N's heart would soften to him again. He did not think he could bear what was to come without her at his side.

Two more days passed before he heard the sound of Y/N's voice again. Aemond came across his wife again in halls adjacent to his sister's chambers. She'd stopped, seemingly choosing between turning back the way she'd come or crossing paths and a clumsy servant boy bumped right into her, prompting her to pitch forward. Aemond swiftly darted forward to catch his wife by her waist, pulling her upright and holding her against him as he roughly shoving the boy away away from her. He glared at the boy, speaking through gritted teeth. "Watch yourself."

The boy looked shaken as he stuttered frantically. "My sincerest apologies my Prince, Princess." He nodded at them both before practically sprinting down the hall away from them, leaving Aemond and Y/N alone.

Still holding Y/N in his arms, Aemond took the opportunity to look upon his lady, though he was concerned to observe the dark shadows under her eyes and a certain hollowness in her cheeks. He lowered his head to gaze into her eyes, tentatively raising a hand to brush a lock of hair from her face.

He spoke softly, eager not to scare her away.

" Are you well?"

Y/N nodded, though Aemond noted that she looked anywhere but at him.

"Yes." Her timid reply sent a pang through his heart. He had fallen in love with Y/N's shy and gently nature quickly when they'd first met. It had inspired a protectiveness in him he could never have anticipated, endeared him from the first. From the moment he'd rescued her from Helaena's pet spider she had always just been his shy girl in is mind. But her return to the timid creature who could barely stand to look at him pained him beyond measure.

Lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn't catch Y/N's next words.

"I must go."

"Must you?"

Y/n did not reply, but  she began to push against him to extricate herself from his hold.

Aemond felt himself becoming desperate. "Please, my love."

"Release me, my Prince." Aemond let Y/N go as if she'd scorched him. In a way she had with her use of his formal title, as if she didn't know every part of him, couldn't see into his very soul, as if he were nought but a stranger.

Aemond found himself grateful to Aegon for offering him a place on his small council. Discussions on tactics and strategy gave him ample distraction during the day. At night he could not stand the conflicting feelings of guilt and loneliness that threatened to consume him, heightened by the emptiness of his chambers without the presence of his beloved wife. Each time a maid would enter his chambers he'd startle, feeling strangely as if he were seeing a ghost of the girl he loved. He could not stand it for long and spent his nights wandering about the Keep or the filthy streets of King's Landing, only returning to his chambers in the early hours of the morning when he was wearied to the bone.

His mother regarded him with an air of suspicion and wariness now, blaming him for starting the war with The Blacks. But seeing him look so piteous, she'd softened somewhat and Aemond was glad of the news she would bring him of his wife, of her daily customs and health.

He was unsurprised to learn that she had taken to spending the better part of her own evenings in his sister's chambers, often sleeping there. He'd observed with affection the tender bond his wife had developed with both his sister Helaena and her children.

The hour was late when Aemond came across Y/N again, making his way through an ante chamber that led from the household chambers to the lower levels of the keep just as she had surely been heading to his sister's chambers. She stopped in the middle of the room at the sight of him and Aemond halted, mimicking her movements. A fire crackled in the hearth on his left, casting a warm glow that illuminated Y/N's features. For a brief moment Aemond willed the flames to burst free from the hearth and set the room ablaze, just so he would have an excuse to carry her from it though he knew his touch was no longer welcome. Realising the mad turn his thoughts had taken he decided then and there that he had to fix this. He could not stand Y/N's silence any longer, this distance she had imposed between them. He had to make her understand.

"I will not deny the bitterness I have long felt towards Lucerys for taking my eye and receiving no punishment for it. But I never meant to kill him. It is true, I pursued him but it was his fear I wanted, not his blood. I wanted him to feel as I did when he took my eye. I did not anticipate Arrax retaliating in defense of his rider and...in truth I lost control of mine own dragon."

Y/N's expression turned pensive and conflicted as she mulled over his words 

"You killed a child, Aemond. Lucerys was no match for you or your dragon and yet you pursued him."

Aemond shut his eye briefly, inhaling slowly as he tried to calm himself enough to answer Y/N without frightening her further. He would not shout at her again. But he needed her to understand that the moment the crown was placed on Aegon's head, war was inevitable. He regretted Luke's death, but he could not undo it.

"There must always be casualties in a war. If it had not been my hand that struck the first blow then it would have been Rhaenyra's."

Aemond's voice sounded colder and more unfeeling than he'd hoped, but to him it was a plain and simple fact he'd long grown accustomed to. His siblings had been raised to fear their sister Rhaenyra, by virtue of their posing a threat to her claim to the Iron Throne.

Y/N's voice shook slightly as she spoke, though Aemond was glad at least that she met his gaze now and had not run from him.

"Aemond it was monstrous."

It was like a dagger had been thrust through his chest. Aemond had always been aware of whispers at court of the one-eyed Prince, of his disfigurement and intimidating presence. They had only grown louder since the news of Prince Lucery's death became common knowledge. But while Y/N had undeniably been wary of him when they'd first met, she'd never treated him as others had. She'd been able to see the good in him, the light in the darkness and pulled him towards it...towards her. But he loved her, and he knew that she still loved him too or she would not have listened to his explanations at all and would not still be standing before him. He recognised the warring emotions in her eyes, the agonising mixture of sadness, fear, and longing, because he knew she could see the same conflict in his one good eye.

Aemond suddenly felt that it did not matter if Y/N did think of him as a monster, as long as she thought of him, as long as long as she thought of him as hers.

"If that be so then I am your monster."

Y/N's eyes widened in shock, though he noted how they quickly softened as she shook her head sadly at him. She turned her face to gaze at the flickering flames and Aemond had to lean towards her to hear her.

"You are not a monster, Aemond. That is not what I meant. You would not regret your nephew's death if that were the case."

Aemond quickly closed the distance between them, emboldened by her words, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to draw her to his chest.

"I am glad to hear you say so for I cannot stand this silence any longer. I love you and whatever horrors I have wrought you must believe that I would never do anything to harm you. The thought is inconceivable to me. Can you find it within your heart to forgive me, to love me again my darling girl?"

Y/N sighed but Aemond felt his heart stutter as she leant against him rather than pushing him away as he'd expected.

"What would that make me Aemond? I was never prepared for this life of political intrigue and machinations, for violence and warfare."

Aemond tentatively raised his hand to cup the back of her head tenderly but the loud clacking of footsteps had Y/N jumping away from him, his hand falling to his side again.

A moment later his grandsire entered the room, shooting Y/N a withering look as she hurried past him. Aemond kept hoping she'd glance back at him, but she did not.

Angrily he turned on Otto.

"You frightened my wife, grandsire."

Infuriatingly, Otto bore an expression of amusement as he quirked an eyebrow up at Aemond.

"A wife would not scorn her husband as she does you, Aemond. The whole court has observed her unseemly behaviour towards you, her lord husband who she should obey. She makes a mockery of you. Aemond, you and your dragon are the single greatest power in this war and if she does not realise the importance of this fundamental fact then perhaps it is time for you you consider the disolussion of your marriage."

Aemond felt his blood heat and his temper rise dangerously. He did not wish to harm his grandsire, it would only upset his mother. But neither would he allow Otto to speak of his wife in such a way. He'd become far too comfortable doing so.

"I do not care for whispers. Y/N is my wife and she can do as she pleases. I will not impress myself upon her if she does not wish it but I will not listen to you continously besmirching her either. If you suggest that I annul my marriage again, I will kill you grandsire. I have already been branded as a kinslayer and it would serve you well to remember it."

For once, Aemond could see a flash of genuine fear in Otto's eyes as he was seemingly stunned into silence. Aemond brushed past him, not caring to wait for a response. He bristled with irritation as he passed the throne room, hearing his brother and his friends drunkenly inventing denominations for him as king upon the iron throne. He hoped that the cold night air would help to clear his mind though tonight he felt that the stars looked less desolate, the dark streets of King's Landing less eery and sinister. For a weight had been lifted from him when Y/N leant into his touch, when she'd told him that he was not a monster.

Aemond felt a sense of foreboding when upon returning to the Red Keep around the Hour of Ghosts, the whole keep seemed to be wide awake and and in a state of dissaray. Pulling his cloak from his shoulders, Aemond questioned the first guard he saw.

"What is the meaning of this raucous?"

At the sight of him the guard visibly paled but stayed infuriatingly silent.

"Speak quickly you fool."

At the Prince's stern command the guard stood to attention.

"The Queen was attacked in her bedchamber, my Prince and the young Prince Jahaerys slain. We have yet to find the perpetrator."

Aemond felt as if the ground were collapsing between him. His sweet sister, his little nephew...how could this have happened? Dread seeped into the pit of his stomach at the sick realisation that his wife tended to spend her evenings with his sister and her children. He'd seen her making her way in that direction before he'd left...left both his wife and sister unprotected.

"Where is my wife?"

The guard swallowed loudly, stepping back a pace. "Princess Y/N was with the Queen in her chambers during the attack. I believe they are both with the Queen Dowager now."

Without another word Aemond took off at a run, his heart pounding in his chest and his blood thrumming in his ears.

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[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART FIVE.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and your former best friend chris sturniolo hang out for the first time in a long time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 822

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i added a promise? tag to make it easier to navigate!

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 recorded video when chris opens his door without knocking. nick lets out a yelp and aggressively takes off his headphones, staring up at his brother with horror and anger in his eyes. “for fuck sake!”

“stop yelling, it’s just me. have you heard from y/n?”

he gives him a look that looks like disgust, but his facial expressions are so similar that chris doesn’t know which emotion is which anymore. “not since the afternoon. why?”

“just curious,” he says, closing the door.

chris’s phone is on the kitchen island facing upwards. he taps the screen to see if there are any notifications, but there aren’t. he groans. it’s almost midnight, she has to be home by now.

as matt is walking into the kitchen, his phone goes off making him lunge across the island to grab it. matt stops in his tracks and looks at chris with wide eyes. “i’m confused.”

“keep on walking, lover boy,” chris says, holding up his hand in a shooing gesture. the boy rolls his eyes and opens the fridge. he stays hunched over the island, a smile appearing on his face when he sees it.

y/n l/n is typing…

he didn’t bother waiting for you to finish typing when he opened up snapchat. your bitmoji is on the bottom left corner above the keyboard, the three dots in the thought bubble moving from side to side as you type. a breath of relief was released from him when your message popped up.

Y/N

| i made it home

| see?

ME

| fine you win

| thank you for keeping your promise :)

Y/N

| as always (unlike you😒)

ME

| I SAID I WAS SORRY

Y/N

| i know i know i’m just kidding

| you're lucky claudia kept throwing up or i would’ve stayed there for wayyyy longer

ME

| LMAO

| that must’ve been fun to witness😍

Y/N

| for sure

ME

| are you free tomorrow?

Y/N

| i have no life

| so yes!

ME

| cool!

| do you want to hang out?

| like the good old days🥹

Y/N

| sure why not?

ME

| BET

| i’m going to text you to plan i hate using snapchat

| see you tomorrow :)

matt approaches next to chris. he’s sipping a root beer he got from the fridge a few minutes ago. “you’re going to hang out with y/n tomorrow?”

chris hides his phone by bringing it to his chest. he stares at him with a look of annoyance. “can you not snoop at my private conversations?”

he shrugs. “i wasn’t snooping. it just so happened to be in my eyesight.”

“get out of here, lover boy.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 journal more frequently than you have anticipated. you’ve had this journal for a while but stopped for no apparent reason, but ever since the triplets, it’s been a number one priority in your eyes.

your brain moves faster than your hands, so you write down whatever your scrambled thoughts are telling you to. half the time you don’t even know what you’re writing.

that’s when you remember you’re supposed to hang out with chris today, so you place your pen into the crack of the book and start texting.

you get up from the bed and take a shower. after that, you find a decent outfit and throw it on. by descent you mean a black long-sleeve shirt and gray sweatpants. you’re basic like that.

walking to your parent’s room, your mother sits at her vanity putting the final touches on herself. you knock on the doorway, and she looks at you through the mirror and smiles. “hi, sweetie.”

“hey.” you reply. “so… just letting you know chris is coming over soon, even though you guys are going out anyway.”

“your father is in the car waiting.” she says, getting up and grabbing her purse. she grabs your shoulder lightly. “i’m glad you guys are starting to talk again.”

she kisses you on the head, exiting the room.

there is a knock at the front door, causing you to spring up from the couch.

you stand there for a beat before opening it. chris stands there with his hands in his pockets, lifting his head when he hears you. you look behind his shoulder and lift a brow. “your clones aren’t joining you today?

he laughs and shakes his head. “no. you didn’t ask for them.” you open the door wider for him to step in.

he looks around. “still feels like my second home.”

the heart inside your body flutters at the comment, but you clear your throat to distract yourself. “do you want anything? a drink or something?”

“i’m good, thanks.” he looks down at you, a grin plastered on his face. “i just want to hang out with you.”

biting your lip, you smile. “ask and you shall receive.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog

[dyns33]

The Fall of House Harkonnen

I'm not sure what to do with Feyd to be honest.

I'm trying to do dark + fluff but I'm not that good at it. So I started with something short, and not really a Feyd x Reader, since they are twins here. Only platonic, fraternal love here. Even if he's over protectitve and possessive.

It was known throughout all the Imperium that the Harkonnens were cruel beings.

Without pity, without heart.

This seemed even more certain when it came to the young Na Baron, Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, nephew of the Baron and his heir.

True, except with his twin sister.

Or rather dizygotic twin. A strangeness of nature, because if the boy resembled his father and all men born on Giedi Prime, Y/N had taken on the features of their mother and the inhabitants of Lankiveil.

This singularity alone could have been enough to disgust the Baron to the point of making him want to kill the child or leave her with her parents. There was also the fact that she was a girl, being inferior and uninteresting.

It was the older brother who had begged for her to be spared, because even though he wanted to impress his uncle and had no attachment to the rest of his family, he felt a certain sympathy towards his sister.

For this, he had often been punished by Feyd, but it was perhaps also what had saved his life.

Because if Glossus liked Y/N, Feyd adored her more than anything in the world.

As if she were a part of him, a vital, essential part. Extremely possessive, jealous to the point of obsession, he insisted that she be taken with him by the Baron, even though he did not see what to do with her.

“If she doesn’t come, I’m not coming either.”

A refusal was impossible. Vladimir Harkonnen needing a successor, and having clearly seen that only Feyd could be suitable, he couldn't say no.

Marrying her for political advantage was also unthinkable. The Na Baron scared away any suitors who might have been interested, and he would have killed the one their uncle chose for his twin.

There would have been the possibility of letting her choose, because maybe he would have agreed to let her go if she had asked him to. It was rare for him to refuse her something, and in fact people often went through her to communicate with Feyd without taking the risk of being mutilated.

Not right away anyway, because just talking, looking, or thinking about Y/N could be grounds for severe punishment. No one imagined what he would do if someone dared to touch her.

Of course, he was the only one not subject to this ban. The worst rumors ran in the dark corners of the Harkonnens' house, when it was known that the twins shared the same bed.

The Na Baron could have ripped out the tongues of everyone who said such horrors about his sister. They could think what they wanted about him, but not about her.

He also could have just said he didn't want her like that. He had never touched her as he touched his concubines, or any other woman.

Superior to all the others, Y/N did him the honor of letting him put his ear to her chest, rocking him to sleep, a calm and serene sleep. He only slept well with her, listening to her heart, which beat only for him, and thanks to him.

The few times he was alone with her, Glossus Rabban begged her to convince Feyd to be reasonable. It was quite hilarious that such a request was made by the one they called the Beast.

Probably it wasn't really him asking, even if you could see worry in his eyes, the eyes of an older brother.

He never left her, and at the same time Feyd was totally submissive to his twin. It was painful for him when she wanted something that went against what he deemed necessary.

This could have been a means of control. But threatening the young woman would have caused more problems than getting favors. She was untouchable no matter what.

For a time, there had also been the fear that she would use this advantage to torn her brother as she pleased. But if the rest of the family was cruel, Y/N seemed to be the heart of it, the only little beating heart, still a bit human.

It happened that she suffocated a little under her brother's protective love, but she had gotten used to it, perfectly understanding how it worked and knowing that he needed that to feel good.

Feyd didn't know how to be good, but he was doing his best. However, that didn't stop her from teasing him.

“Suppose I meet a charming, kind young nobleman who treats me well…”

“Why do you want to torture me like this, my sister ?” he sighed, snuggling against her. "It's been a long day. Lots of annoyances, stupid people. Don't make me think about these atrocities."

“Me, happily married, is that an atrocity ?”

"Yes."

“But what if I asked you to find me someone ?” Y/N said with a smile, rubbing his back tenderly.

"If there was someone who deserved you, then I would accept. But that's not the case. So you will stay with me, I will become emperor, and you will rule by my side."

"It's not very conventional. And bad for the future of our house."

"The witches will do what is necessary for this. I will take the hand of one of the Emperor's daughters to ensure my power, I will give her a son, then I will not see her again. Maybe I will even kill her, since she will no longer be useful."

"You're so mean. Would you be happy if people talked about me like that ?"

“I will kill anyone who dares.” he grunted, while purring under her hands.

When the Emperor ordered Arakkis to be given to the Atreides, Piter suggested an alliance, before moving on to assassination.

Not that he wanted the Atreides to live, but it was obvious that their deaths were even more desired by the Emperor because of their popularity, who would later seek to attack the Harkonnens because of their wealth.

"The Duke should have had a daughter, who would have married the Na Baron. Since he had a son, it would be possible for us to propose a marriage between him and…"

“Finish this sentence and lose your tongue.” Feyd hissed, never taking his eyes off him, his blade dancing between his fingers, ready to strike.

"I appreciate this proposal, but as you can see, this idea is not a good one. My dear nephew is right to oppose it. The Atreides do not deserve to be linked to any member of our family, nor to have any power over my Dune. We will take it back from them, then we will deal with the Emperor."

Politics had no interest for Y/N. She heard nothing of the plans of the Baron, the Bene Gesserit, or the Imperium. It didn't matter to her in the slightest.

She was only happy with her brother, and it was the same for him. An inseparable pair.

So there was a moment of hesitation when their uncle decided to entrust Arrakis to Feyd. An immense honor, which he had been waiting for for a long time, in addition to which would allow him to further secure his future as ruler of the galaxy.

But Dune was dangerous, so it was obvious that it wasn't a good idea for Y/N to accompany him.

None of them liked the idea, but for once the Na Baron couldn't deny that he shared his uncle's worries. No one would be stupid enough to hurt his sister if she was on Giedi Prime, but she was a target on Arrakis.

"I'll be back soon. Or you'll join me when we've eliminated the Fremen rebels."

"… I have a bad feeling. Stay."

"My sister. My sweet sister." he whispered, kissing her cheek. "You have nothing to fear. You know I am a well trained warrior."

"I don't doubt your abilities. I doubt that these savages are as honorable as you. Can you promise to come back to me ?"

“I have never broken my word, much less the word I give you. We will not be separated, Y/N.”

News of the Baron's death came first.

Then the commander announced to her with a small voice that Glossus had also succumbed.

He was silent for a moment, giving her time to process what he had just said, but Y/N already knew he wasn’t finished.

As she had predicted, young Paul Atreides had not fought by the rules. He should have lost, according to witnesses, but he played dirty, and he stabbed the Na Baron instead of accepting his defeat.

While demanding the hand of the emperor's daughter, he had ordered that a message be sent to the last of the Harkonnens, the only heiress. If she were smarter than the rest of her family, she would be willing to bow to him.

“What should I answer ?”

“Leave me.” Y/N only said without looking at him.

"But he's waiting for an answer… They're going…"

“Leave me.”

"Sorry, Baroness. Call me when you have made a decision."

There was no decision. No word. No Harkonnen bowed their head to an Atreides.

Refusing to be separated, and since he won't come back like he promised, Y/N decided to join her twin where he was. Even though he refused to admit it since they were children, he had never liked being alone in the dark, waiting for her to sneak in his room.

Her planet, her people, their fate didn't matter to her. In this moment, as cruel as the rest of her family, her heart was only for Feyd, and it had no reason to beat anymore.

[deripmaver]

one thing that berserk fans more or less universally agree is done well is its portrayal of characters' trauma. from griffith clawing at his arms and saying he's dirty, to guts' breakdown during "wounds," to the corridor of dreams for casca, and of course the lost children arc - a lot of people find this writing very personally meaningful.

that being said, a lot of the actual depiction of rape and sexual violence exists in a kind of total fantasy land despite it supposedly being a part of the manga's "gritty realism". i mean this both in the overtly negative way (panels that look straight out of a hentai, rape somehow only happening to beautiful slender young women, the protagonists finding dens of beautiful, naked young rape victims who never once feel the need to cover their bare breasts as they're rescued) but also in an interesting... not quite negative way?

one thing i've praised the manga for is that, despite what its worst fans say, it never once victim blames casca. it's never "her fault" for staying with griffith after he is disabled, or with having a crush on him. weird kentaro miura quote aside (if you don't know what i'm talking about don't ask lol) and the ethics of possibly including a victim climaxing during a rape scene, casca is only ever seen as a character that needs to be cared for. guts becoming frustrated with her continued trauma is portrayed explicitly as a bad thing, and its consequences continue to this day in the manga.

the thing is though... that's just not realistic LOL.

i got the idea to write this post because of a series of tweets about revolutionary girl utena, which is such a brutally realistic portrayal of rape culture. even utena herself, once she finds out that anthy is being abused by akio, and despite being abused by akio herself, says she can't forgive anthy. you rarely see stuff like that in berserk. the closest you get is during the lost children arc, where rosine's mother was impregnated due to rape, and whose father abused both her and rosine because of his "shame." otherwise, women are always rescued by kind, sympathetic knights (ie the women from midland taken by the kushan empire), and are happily-ish reunited with their families (ie after the trolls), and other women at least are always kind, unfailing sources of support for casca, and they rarely get frustrated or angry that she's just not getting any better.

and while this is something i actually kind of like about berserk (at least that last thing), it's pure fantasy. irl, people treat rape victims absolutely terribly, they treat them like the characters in revolutionary girl utena treat anthy, with disgust and horror not at the rape itself but at the victim. i try (and probably fail lol) not to exposit too much about what kentaro miura thought on a personal level, bc i will never know for sure. i wonder though if the thought of drawing victim blaming was a bridge too far for him after drawing all those explicit panels of violence of abuse, that at least the women shouldn't have a "grim ending," or maybe he just didn't quite understand rape culture. who knows.

but "gritty realism" when it comes to sexual violence somehow only seems to mean explicit, on page abuse, with nothing to say about rape culture on the whole.

[missheavenfield1215]

I think taking the relationship between Beetlejuice and Lydia for granted in the new film is too hasty to say.

I know it's hard to tell them not to be hopeful when they've already released this kind of official material. I mean, have you seen this?!

Or the certainty that Lydia accepted without hesitation Beetlejuice's proposal to look for her daughter. (although it is more than obvious why she accepted it) min: 3:57

Or even this video... Are you really saying that a relationship is very difficult when you talk about his "relationship" with Lydia??

And let's also talk about this face... Jesus... It seems that Beetlejuice has found the love of his life when he sees Lydia. (Personally I think in the second GIF Beetlejuice is looking at his wedding cake or something else, because it seems that he is still with his back to her)

But I think there's something they're forgetting.

This has also come out and is behind the scenes.

You can use the ending of the musical (although I doubt it very much, Tim and Michael refuse to see the musical). Here I believe that Beetlejuice will choose Astrid or she herself will offer to marry him to save her mother and so they would kill Beetlejuice, staining her dress with his blood.

I'm not a person who gets excited when I see some romantic approach, I expect it to really happen.

Have they forgotten the unfinished ship ReyLo?? Zutara's discarded idea?? The bland romance between Lucy and Raoul? The main couple of Wish with Asha and Starboy who they discarded because #feminism?

I think this could be the same...

I feel like they're not really going to pair Lydia and Beetlejuice. Because even though their deal is transactional, (he helps her find her daughter and she marries him to bring him back to life and get him away from his ex-wife, Delores).

I feel like all these "shows of affection" are a farce... This comes across as:

-"Like why do you say you can't marry me?" "You say it's because you don't love me and I don't either?" "So here, take (literally) my heart and shut up."

I don't like to be so pessimistic, I really wish they stayed together, because for God's sake, they are an iconic couple in gothic horror and black comedy movies even though they have never really been a couple (plus ALL if not most Tim Burton movies have romance or proof that there was going to be a romance (like an unfinished pairing). As in Alice in Wonderland, Edward Scissorhands, Corpse Bride etc).

If the Beetlebabes is canonized, Tim Burton risks waves and a HUGE amount of hate for "pairing a girl with a disgusting adult" (even though in the movie Lydia is already an adult).

Beetlejuice has a picture of Lydia when she was a teenager, which means that he fell in love with her when she was an underage girl...

Even if he says that Beetlejuice and Lydia were created to be together (as some sort of "soulmates") and that at some point in a sequel they would make that a reality, there will be a lot of people who will be very angry about this.

I really don't think Tim Burton would risk all the criticism and hate...

Unless he makes the decision to defend this Ship openly, he will not do so without at least giving as an example the musical, whose directors ignored that detail (of the "soulmates", Perhaps because of the pressure to be politically correct by Broadway standards) because they did it at his expense and not with his help...

Let's remember that the musical and everything in it, is not from Tim Burton's own mind, but they did do what they wanted with his characters without consulting him first.

But I still thinking that claiming victory so hastily would be very bad for the whole Fandom.

I ask you not to celebrate such an abrupt "triumph"... The film has not yet been released.

I ask you to wait at least until the premiere of the film.

I ask you to wait until it is 100% confirmed.

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 9

Use someone's parents

I was initially not going to do today's entry but I realized couldn't miss the chance to address Skwisgaar's issues with Servetta. Or, well, one of many I suppose.

Thank you Servetta for helping create this deeply traumatized guitarist that I love!

Skwisgaar walked into the classroom. He could notice the eyes on him, and it made him apprehensive, but he didn’t want to show it. Instead, he just sat in his usual seat at the end of the left, right by the window. 

A group of girls whispered nearby him, and clearly they weren’t being quiet enough because he could still hear them. 

“My mom said his mom is…a disgusting person.” One of them said.

“Yeah, my parents told me not to talk to him.” Another replied.

“I think she tried to sleep with one of the teachers!” A third girl said. 

“No way!”

“Yeah, Ebba told me!”

“Ew, then he shouldn’t even be here!”

Skwisgaar glared at the girls and they stopped, pretending to look away. As soon as he laid his eyes off them they started whispering again, except this time he couldn’t hear them anymore.

He watched the snowfall out of the window, wiping his eyes before the tears had a chance to drop. He didn’t need to add ‘crybaby’ to the rumors about him and his mother. 

Not when so many of them were true, anyway.

–

A group of boys ran away when they saw Skwisgaar coming. Laughing and stealing glances at him, they disappeared into the crowd in the hallway. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, so when Skwisgaar reached his locker, he wasn’t exactly shocked.

There were scribbles all over it, insults to him, his mother, crass jokes, obscene drawings. Pretty much the usual stuff. He was a little surprised when a postcard came flying out when he opened his locker, though.

It was a picture of his mother from the 1956 Miss Sweden contest. Someone had drawn nipples and a bush over her bodysuit and written on the side: “I came to this picture 100 times last night. And you, Skwisgaar?”

“Oh, my God, that’s horrible!” A feminine voice said and Skwisgaar turned in her direction. 

It was Hilda, the appointed nice girl of her class. She had shoulder-length black hair and big auburn eyes and was staring at his locker with horror. Or, wait, was her name Helga?

“Eh, I’m used to it.” Skwisgaar said, tossing the postcard into the nearest trash can. 

“It’s still terrible.” Hilda or Helga replied with her arms crossed and a judgemental look. Skwisgaar noticed that there was a girl by her side. She was biting down her lip, like she wanted to say something.

Skwisgaar knew that look damn well.

“Is it true your mom slept with Erik from 9th grade?”

“Krista!” Her friend scolded her.

“What? You wanted to know too!”

“What are you-”

“Probably.” Skwisgaar closed his locker with a slam, startling the girls. “I don’t really care.” He turned his backs on them and walked away. 

It was always the same.

–

“Dude, Skwisgaar.” 

“Yeugh?” Skwisgaar raised his eyes from his guitar. He was tuning up by the ear.

“You told me you didn’t have a mom, dude.” Matthew said. He was the curly-haired vocalist of the American band Skwisgaar was currently part of  and he was a constantly smoking weed. 

“Uh, ja.” 

“Well, I looked you up last night, dude. Since you said you were famous in Sweden…why didn’t you tell me your mom was a total hottie? I would’ve so banged her!”

“What? Show me the pics!” Rick, the drummer, yelled from the other side of the room.

“I wanna see too!” The bassist, whose name was something like Ryan, joined Matthew on the couch. “Woah, no way!”

“Yeah, dude…”

“That’s one hot slut!” Rick exclaimed, peeking at the phone from behind the other two.

As he watched his bandmates fawn over what were presumably pictures of his mother, Skwisgaar was reminded of a feeling he thought he had left behind just like his hometown. 

That ugly, ugly discomfort when people spoke about his mother. Made him feel so powerless and vulnerable, even though it wasn’t on him.

Even though none of it was on him.

–

“Yeah, I heard of you.” One greasy manager told him, slinging an arm around Skwisgaar’s shoulder. 

He was at the New Year party of a big label. He had been invited by one of his ex-bandmates because he briefly replaced the guitarist of one of the bands they represented and he would never turn down free alcohol and drugs. 

The only downside was the annoying people that acted familiar with him. Like this jack off.

“Skwisgaar Skwigelf, right?” He said, with a drunk breath. He was a middle aged man, his gray hair slicked back and wearing a couple of sunglasses even though it was night. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Eugh, rights…” Skwisgaar said, already annoyed by the proximity of the man. He hated when people got on his face like that. Unless they were floozies, of course.

“I actually worked in Sweden some years ago.” The man continued. “Your mom was a total sensation back then.” 

“Ja, she was a bits ofs a celekbrities…” Skwisgaar said with disinterest, mildly relieved the conversation was just boring, rather than uncomfortable. 

The man leaned in to whisper into Skwisgaar’s ear. “They say she slept her way to the top…” He placed his hand on Skwisgaar’s waist. “What about you?”

Infuriated, Skwisgaar shoved him away and left, gripping the drink in his hand.

“Hey!” He heard the man call him. “I was just joking, come back!”

There it was again.

That feeling he had worked so hard to abandon.

He hated it.

–

“What ams this?” Their latest addition, Toki, had been snooping around Skwisgaar’s stuff for a while. He was a bit like a child, excited over everything and constantly asking questions. He reminded Skwisgaar of an overstimulated dog. 

“Mmh?” Skwisgaar kept fretting mindlessly and Toki showed him a magazine with himself on the cover. “Oh, dat ams and olds thingks…when I was just gettingks starts…”

Toki paged through the magazine, searching for the Skwisgaar article. “Founds it! Buts I can’ts reads anyt’ings…” He sounded dejected.

“Dats woulds be because it ams in skwedish.” Skwisgaar said, still playing. 

“Waits! It shouldn’ts be thats hard…” Toki squinted at the text. “En…kommande…gita-gitarr? Gittartala- Oh, it ams too hards!” He started looking at the pictures instead. “Wowee! Why ams dat a pages rippeds of?”

Skwisgaar flinched unwillingly. “Eugh…it has somethingks I didn’ts wanna sees…ja.”

Toki tilted his head, awaiting more information and Skwisgaar swallowed heavily.

“It, was, eugh, my moms.” He tried to say casually.

“Oh…”

The pace of Skwisgaar’s playing increased unconsciously. He closed his eyes, feeling his body tense up, his heart rate picking up. 

…But nothing happened.

Confused, he glanced at Toki, who kept inspecting the magazine with curiosity. “So cool…” He whispered in awe at some picture of teenager Skwisgaar posing with a guitar.

“Yous not goignks to ask abouts dat?”

“Whys?” Toki turned the magazine upside down, confused. “I donts gets this…” There was a cryptic illustration on the page. 

“Because it ams my moms?!” Skwisgaar asked, in disbelief. 

Toki’s stupidly innocent eyes laid on Skwisgaar. “Buts you donts wants to talks about it.” He said as if it were obvious.

“W-Well, ja, buts everyones always-”

“Parents ams hard.” Toki said, and it was like the naivety had left his face suddenly. “And…we ams not thems.” His eyes were hard, as if he wasn’t just talking to Skwisgaar anymore.

Come to think of it, Toki hadn’t really talked about his parents either, had he?

And, instead of the discomfort Skwisgaar had grown used to over the years, he felt something different. Something he hadn’t felt since he was a child, since his mother cradled him in her arms and sang lullabies for him. 

He smiled, embracing the sentiment. “You ams wise for a littol snot-nosed brats, heuh?”

“Ams not a brats!”

Skwisgaar chuckled with fondness. “Thanks you, Toki.”

Toki blinked, scatterbrained as ever. “Whats for?”

Without replying, Skwisgaar looked out of the window. The snowfall was inclement as ever.

But things weren't the same anymore.

[fleeglefazbeagle]

I made a poster for my Walten Files AU that centers around the holiday special antagonists today.

Yes, I based it off that concept poster for Shin Godzilla.

Here's the lore summarized the best way I can(trigger warning for murder, burning and mental breakdowns):

Basically, it involves the holiday special characters (Boozoo's Ghosts and The Mysterious House).

They basically came from an obscure restaurant/playhouse called "Prezzy's Wonderland"(Willy's Wonderland reference, lol).

The animatronics are:

Mortality(originally named Prezzy)

Jolly the Sheep

Sad the Clown

Pumpkin Rabbit

Witch Sheep(full name Willow the Witch Sheep)

TVA

Jonkler(this is just a placeholder name I recently made for Halloween Billy, so please don't get used to it just in case).

The animatronics, like in my FNAF AU, are sentient(think Security Breach) and have their own individual personalities. The restaurant is acknowledged by Jack Walten and Felix Kranken and even liked by them.

It was somewhat well known, so it had its reoccurring customers but the owners didn't mind. Two particular reoccurring customers were Lily Anderson and her mother Gloria, Lily often brought a plush bunny named Daisy (keep this in mind).

Things were going quite well until one day, on Lily's 12th birthday when she and Gloria were about to head home(it was kinda late and they were the last to leave), a man named Richard Winston murdered the both of them outside. Prezzy heard the commotion and rushed over to the door to unlock it but it was stuck and by the time he finally managed to get out to see what was happening, it was too late, Lily and Gloria were murdered and the man was running away from the scene.

This broke Prezzy mentally and emotionally, causing him to have a breakdown, a nightguard came out and saw the scene, also scared and decided to call the owners, the police and an ambulance.

They investigated the footage and saw the murderer and are willing to try and find him whilst Prezzy was just sitting down on the stage in silence whilst gently holding Daisy(the plushie) and meanwhile, the other animatronics tried to comfort him.

Two weeks have passed and Prezzy wasn't really doing well(grief is a real bitch), often mumbling to himself, standing by himself in darkness all the while holding the plushie in his hand. At some points, he'd either act manic under pressure or just sit there listening to random music boxes(mostly Lily's favorite song which was "Daisy Bell").

One night when it was around midnight, Pumpkin Rabbit was wondering around when he heard a strange noise in Parts and Service, he wandered in curiously when the door shut and barricaded behind him, startling him. The same man(Richard) from the incident from two weeks ago approached Pumpkin and then he set the rabbit ablaze. Pumpkin Rabbit was freaking out, gasping for air and straight up afraid whilst the man stood there and watched with a sinister grin. Willow heard the commotion and rushed over to Parts and Service and tried to open the door, calling out to Pumpkin, clearly fearing for him and eventually, she managed to open the door and when she saw the scene, she screamed in horror, grabbed a fire extinguisher and put out the flames.

She sat on the floor and held Pumpkin whose face was now melted(he's alive though, don't worry) and looked up at the man with horror and disgust.

The next day came and the employees were shocked and what made matters worse was that they ran out of the materials for Pumpkin's face and couldn't afford it but a employee made a mask(think of the one Pumpkin Rabbit had in the OG vid) and gave it to him but it just wasn't the same.

Pumpkin Rabbit had breathing problems and pyrophobia as a result of the incident. One day, the place was shut down which devastated folks especially since one of the owners who was the creator of the characters(in universe) was gravely ill and then died days later.

This left the employees unemployed and the animatronics pretty much have to live in the now abandoned restaurant. The incident with the fire and the creator's death was the final straw for Prezzy, these incidents made him go mad and hungry for revenge.

Three months have passed since the place closed, the animatronics end up gaining supernatural abilities(I'll think of an origin for that).

Prezzy decided to change his name to Mortality(he's still ok with being referred to as Prezzy from time to time).

As far as that plushie, Daisy is concerned, she's possessed by the spirits of Lily and Gloria(think of Rocket with Ed and Molly).

Lily's older cousin, James, who was also an employee at the restaurant, heard about the news and he was pissed and also vows revenge.

That's pretty much what I have so far.

(Boy, that was a long one.)

If you have any questions at all, don't be hesitant to pop into my asks about the AU.