#and was very attentive to her needs so that she wouldn’t grow up with terrible health issues

[plusdanshii]

im going to ramble in the tags about baby care for a little just a little.

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 7: STEPCEST Urahara Kisuke 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: Anon ➡ For your event fem reader, stepcest with Urahara Kisuke tw: mdni. STEPcest, there are no blood ties. please, if you don't like, don't read. thigh fucking. vag unprotected sex. usage of sister and brother during the act. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It’s bad. you can’t keep dreaming of him. With him. Of the things you want him to do to you.

“He is my brother” you repeat, knowing very well that he really isn’t. But to the rest of the world, he is like it. To you, even. And every night, since he moved back home, you’ve been dealing with your unacceptable needs…

Kisuke needed to come back home, he had had a serious fight with Yoruichi, and she had enough of him. In fact, you took her side, but you couldn’t let him sleep on a hotel. He can sometimes be… annoying, and a bad boyfriend. But he is not a bad person; Kisuke loses track of time when working at the lab and puts almost everything into one investigation…

Your throat feels dry. Your body sweated. It’s a hot night, summer should have left the town, but it seems to be reluctant to do so. With a silky white sleep gown, you go downstairs for a cup of water. However, you knew too well the thirst wouldn’t be satisfied this way.

Everything seems silent, Kisuke should be sleeping in the couch -or that’s what it seems to you –. But it turned it was just the sheets he never tents.

You hurry up, chugging the glass of cold water to cool your heat quickly. Yet, the moon outside catches your attention and you begin to day dream of those times where both of you were younger and met for the first time…

His father and your mother had married, and both being almost adults didn’t find it too terrible. As college represented a higher worry in your lives you simply accepted the new assembled family, discovering a high connection in between you and him. Kisuke soon left home for uni and some years after he started working at a laboratory he is now closer to preside.

And all throughout those years, and from the very first time you saw his face, you accepted loving him was off limits, even if your heart ached for him…

You sighed, with blurred eyes fixed on the argentum shine of the moon outside the window. But a pair of hands suddenly surrounded your waist from behind.

“Wha-?” you asked, scared. “Daydreaming? You look sad, (Name)-san… what happened?” Kisuke asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His messy blonde hair grazing your cheek and neck, his sweet perfume reaching you, the warmth of his embrace feeling so holy and so terrible at the same time.

You take some seconds to answer. Growing up, Kisuke has always been very physically close to you and your family members. You couldn’t say it was just because he enjoyed touching you. You couldn’t simply push him away.

“I am ok, I was just remembering old times. That’s it. You should go back to sleep… or go to sleep for once. I know you are investigating something important, but your health should matter a little bit more, Kisuke” you scold him, as you’ve always done.

“Aaaa~ah… my older sister will always do this, huh? Not even the years that have passed changed you, huh?” he jokes, hugging you so tight, pulling you so close to his body that your breathing cuts short.

Your eyes open wide, when you can clearly feel the whole entirety of his flesh against yours. From his chest on your back, to his hipbones on the small of your back.

“Wh- stop it, for real. Go to sleep. I am tired too…” you stutter; the trembling in your voice can’t be hide, the anxiety rising inside you either.

“You are clearly sad, let’s go” he chimes, turning you around and lifting you up in his arms. He is quite tall and despite not having a huge frame, he is very strong. And no matter how much you could kick and hit his back with your fists, he isn’t letting you go. Instead, Kisuke laughs happily.

When he gets to your room, he throws you on the bed. Your heart pumps faster, and you can only repeat for yourself  “he is playing, he is your brother”.

“Make some space, I won’t go away until either you tell me what is going on or you fall asleep” he says, snuggling right by your side.

You are still unable to speak and can barely blink. You fix your gaze on the ceiling of your room; a soft blueish light kisses the walls and your skins. Kisuke hugs you, and your senses intensify. The sound of your breathing, the sound of his reverberates in your mind. Your heart pumps more and more blood and all of it seems to be going to one place only; your core.

He hugs you closer, turning you to side so that your nose ends up being inches from his chest. Kisuke is someone who finds trouble with keeping basic hygiene, but tonight his skin smells deliciously tempting.

You feel your head spinning, like your soul is about to leave your body. This is not ok. This is wrong. This is bad. He is your brother… he is not.

“Kisuke… can you go sleep in the couch?” you ask, painfully. The tone in your voice holds the aching need of a beast inside you. Your hands are sweaty, you are drowning in guilt but also in lust… if you move a single muscle more, it will be to kiss him.

“Why- I even bathe. Why I can’t sleep with my older sister??” he asks, and it seems to you that he knows exactly what he is doing. Urahara Kisuke is a genius, he probably knows… in fact, he always has.

“STOP CALLING ME OLDER SISTER. I AM NOT YOUR SISTER!” You snap, pushing him away and turning around. It’s either mistreating him or ruining your family. But when did Kisuke ever cared about morals?

He comes closer, this time spooning you. His hands so shamefully passing around your waist and landing down your belly button. The warmth of his breathe reaches your nape, while his nose buries in between your hair.

“You are my sister… and I don’t care…” the scientist whispers, torturing you with his lips lingering over your skin.

It all turns bumpy, and your muscles stiffen. You need him, you want him. Your body succumbs to the most depraved lust ever existing. Your back arches just enough for your buttocks to graze his now growing hardness.

“Kisuke… don’t do this” you beg, as his hands slide down your waist towards your hips. He pulls you against his crotch, this time with no absolute delicacy, to make sure you feel he is as horny as you are.

His hardness feels sinfully exquisite, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your ass from side to side; you want him desperate, so fucking needy. You want him to be even able to feel the wetness pulling in between your legs and perhaps even dampening your inner thighs.

And oh, he notices immediately after his pants are down. Enough of the smooth player, he can’t wait to taste you no more.

Your thighs receive his warm sex right in between them, closer to your now dripping panties but not enough to touch your labia. You squeeze your legs to trap him, as his hands now free your breasts from above your night gown. Kisuke’s fingers feel wonderfully pinching your nipples.

“Should I continue, my sweet sister ~?” he asks, rejoicing in the word sister because it is as sick and depraved, and it is also turning you on more than what you could ever expect.

Oh, the guilt, what a big kink.

“Fuck me… brother” “With great pleasure”

Kisuke immediately turns you around, topping you with no shame. His hand landing on your cheek, his lips approaching yours. Crossing any line ever traced, two mouths crashing in total concupiscence; two tongues dancing in pure sin.

Your step brother pulls your panties down, as both kiss with total passion. His fingers quickly reach for your wet flower, it even surprises that you are dripping so much.

“You are so incredible wet, how needy are you?” he asks, in between lip bites. “I need you inside of me, now. Now, please” you moan, leaving any reason behind, allowing your desires to take full control of your consciousness.

Kisuke doesn’t really need to finger you nor prepare your entrance, your walls are desperately hungry to feel stretch by him. He smirks, the strings of his precum that were forming on his tip and pooling on your belly button are the sweet show of how much he needs you too.

The blonde guides his hardness to your entrance, he doesn’t even need to move further as it slides so perfectly inside. He stays, for some seconds, right by your entrance making you curl your back and turn your eyes white from pleasure. He knows, he perfectly understands how your body works and how to make you pull from the bedsheets.

And right before he goes deep, with a ram than feels like breaking you in half, your eyes fix into each other’s.

His hips begin to move, but your eyes couldn’t. There was a feeling of deep connection and also intense regret in them. But most importantly, and despite all guilt, both felt like there wasn’t a safest place than each other’s embrace.

Kisuke goes deep as much as you buck up your hips, joining your cores almost inevitably willing to melt into one. He lets himself fall on top of you, while you hug his waist to keep him trapped inside of you. Kissing desperately, breathing moaning, drinking the other’s grunts and little “nhngs” and “fucks”.

Climax coming. Climax taking over. His flesh slapping yours, both sweating but never letting go. Your nails leaving the trace of their path engraved in his pale back.

Kisuke believes is not enough deepness and pulls you up to finally sit on his lap still penetrating you. Your legs around his waist, his nesting you around. His hands pressing on the small of your back and yours on his nape.

Explosively finishing in heaven, two sinful souls that have just condemned themselves to the infinite void of hell…  

“I wanted you since the day I met you” ; “I wanted you too… but this is wrong…” “Wrong would be not doing it, sister ~”

taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon 💖

[ruanbaijie]

During the Republican Era, Shen Zhiheng, a member of the Tianjin gentry who happened to be a vampire, offended the Japanese and became the target of an assassination attempt. He was saved by a blind young lady, Mi Lan, and his best friend Situ Weilian. When he went to repay Mi Lan for saving him, he discovered the terrible family situation that Mi Lan was in, and so began to pay more attention to her. Meanwhile, Shen Zhiheng’s plan to take revenge on Li Yingliang, the mastermind behind his assassination, fell short of success thanks to Li Yingliang’s Japanese superior, raising suspicions about his identity. Since then, Li Yingliang and the Japanese were in hot pursuit of Shen Zhiheng, determined to dig out the truth about his secret.

Please do not repost this anywhere else or retranslate it!

MAIN DIRECTORY ☾ READ ON AO3 ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Li Yingliang was, in fact, worrying too much.

Shen Zhiheng was very busy today, and completely did not have any time to go and pay Li Yingliang a visit, because Situ Weilian had shown up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, making an unexpected comeback.

He familiarly strode through the front door, and saw Mi Lan in the parlour. Mi Lan was standing alone, with her head lowered as she looked at the wound on her knee. And just as he said hello to Mi Lan, Shen Zhiheng also entered, with a bottle of medicine in his hand.

Situ Weilian temporarily did not bother about Shen Zhiheng, first questioning Mi Lan, “Mi Lan, you’re really capable, I saved your life, and not only did you not repay me, you even beat my girlfriend.”

Mi Lan lowered her head, evidently quite guilty, “I’m sorry.”

Shen Zhiheng walked over, handing that bottle of medicine over to her as he made a hand gesture for her to leave. After she lowered her head and left, he finally turned to Situ Weilian, “Why are you here? To collect your promissory note?”

Situ Weilian pointed at the tip of his nose, “Shen Zhiheng, you’ve really got guts as well, beating your biological younger brother so viciously.”

Shen Zhiheng had just washed his face, but had not yet changed into a new set of clothes, and so flecks of blood still dotted the collar of his shirt. Turning around, he walked to the sofa and sat down, saying, “I don’t acknowledge you as my younger brother.”

“After looking for me for so many years, you don’t want me now?”

Shen Zhiheng raised his eyes and gazed at him, “So you do know too, that I’ve been looking for you for so many years.”

Situ Weilian sighed, raising his voice, “Stop going on and on about this!”

Shen Zhiheng shifted his gaze, scoffing.

Situ Weilian frowned and glared at him, annoyance growing in his heart. This older brother of his viewed himself too highly, always thinking of himself as a giant among men. Alas, fate did not favour him, and he was dirtied by the word “vampire”. Actually, in his opinion, this older brother was just so-so, and was pretty much just a wealthy man who was disgruntled and complained all the time. If he had a better brother - or servant - whom he could depend on, then he wouldn’t have to keep shamelessly returning to coax him.

He had come carrying a canvas satchel. He stretched his hand into the satchel, pulling out a large glass bottle that he slowly handed over to Shen Zhiheng. Dark red blood rippled in the glass bottle, and Shen Zhiheng’s eyes flashed, his gaze instantly glued onto that glass bottle.

Situ Weilian laughed to himself, yet his tone was earnest, “A gift for you, you don’t need to pay for it. I just request that you help me out, of course, whether you help or not is up to you, I won’t force you.”

Shen Zhiheng was a little annoyed, not at Situ Weilian, but at himself. He realised that he was becoming increasingly like an animal, and the most urgent thing in his life was eating. This glass of bottle before his eyes was enough to fill his mouth with saliva, and he actually had to focus on keeping his mouth shut to prevent his saliva from flowing out from the corners of his lips.

What an unbecoming sight!

He wanted to kick Situ Weilian out, but, instead, he opened his mouth, mumbling, “Speak.”

“Can you let Li Yingliang go? Don’t hide from me. Although Jin Jingxue has a bad temper, she is not muddleheaded. That she is willing to come and find you proves that she has evidence. I guess, is Li Yingliang locked in that empty warehouse at the pier? Actually, I’m all for killing Li Yingliang or cutting off his flesh, I’m all for it, after all, he has kidnapped me before. But Jin Jingxue simply cares too much about him, and if she doesn’t find him soon, she might fall in love with him.”

Shen Zhiheng swallowed his saliva, “What logic is that?”

Situ Weilian laughed, “I say, have you lived for so many years without once falling in love before?”

Shen Zhiheng did not answer.

“If Li Yingliang is safe and sound, then Jin Jingxue won’t know how much she cares about him. If she doesn’t know, then her heart won’t be moved by him. But now that Li Yingliang is missing, Jin Jingxue worries about him all day long. Over time, she will realise her feelings for him, and as a person who dares to love and dares to hate, once she realises that, it’s unavoidable that she might even seek death for Li Yingliang, and an admirer like me will be completely out of the game.”

“Then aren’t you deceiving yourself?” 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Shen Zhiheng suddenly smiled, “There’s a simpler solution. You turn her into a vampire, and she naturally won’t leave you. Aren’t you always trying to make me your servant? Second Young Mistress Jin is exceptionally beautiful and is the person you love, with her to wait on you for your entire life, you no longer have to bother me.”

“I said you’ve never fallen in love before, you’re truly inexperienced. I only love her, what do you mean my entire life?”

Shen Zhiheng raised an eyebrow at him, his expression one of surprise.

Situ Weilian felt that Shen Zhiheng’s line of thinking was simply ridiculous. “There are times that I love her, naturally, there will also be times in the future that I don’t love her. If I no longer love her, and yet we still have to be together day and night, wouldn’t that make me uncomfortable, and also make her uncomfortable? Wouldn’t that be harming others and myself? I wouldn’t do such an immoral thing.”

Shen Zhiheng said, “I still thought you had really fallen in love with her…”

“You still don’t understand. I’ve truly fallen in love with her. A true love, stemming from my soul, with a history, with a path, with growth, with maturity, with withering, with an end. True love is not necessarily staying together until the end, for an entire lifetime. To follow one’s heart and to treat each other with sincerity, that, is true love. Love is not something that can be measured with time.”

Shen Zhiheng nodded, “Thank you for your teachings.”

“Ultimately, you’re still unable to escape from the worldliness of humans, unlike me, pure and innocent.”

Shen Zhiheng continued nodding, “So you’re pure and innocent, pardon, I’ve disrespected you.”

Situ Weilian extended his arm, forcefully pulling out the rubber stopper at the mouth of the glass bottle. “Then are you willing to help me and let Li Yingliang go or not?”

The cold scent of blood wafted out, making Shen Zhiheng’s nostrils quiver. After improvising for so many days, he had yet to have a full meal. Animal blood always made him feel dirty, besides, even if it was dirty fresh blood, he still had to share some of it with Mi Lan. His head had yet to make up its mind, but his hand had already extended forward.

His palm wrapped around both the bottle and Situ Weilian’s hand, and with a light shining in his gaze, he said in a trembling voice, “Let go.”

Situ Weilian stumbled forward, as his hand and the glass bottle were raised up together by Shen Zhiheng to his lips. Shen Zhiheng raised his head, drinking quickly and in large, audible gulps. Watching him, Situ Weilian found it a little funny. Shen Zhiheng was an addict, while he was an opium merchant. How could Shen Zhiheng not realise such an obvious reality?

When Shen Zhiheng finished the glass bottle, he drew his hand back, patting the canvas satchel beside him, “There’s another one, you can put it in your refrigerator and drink it slowly. You’ll let Li Yingliang go tomorrow, okay?”

Shen Zhiheng sprawled onto the sofa, his eyes half shut. “Mm.”

Situ Weilian sent him a British army salute. “Thank you.”

Shen Zhiheng spat out a sigh, “Get lost.”

Shen Zhiheng was not a man of his word; he did not leave the house at all the next day. Meanwhile, neither did Situ Weilian come over again to create more trouble for him. In the afternoon, Situ Weilian brought a huge bag of medicine to visit Jin Jingxue, however, the main doors of the Jin mansion were shut tight, and a maidservant told him from behind the gate that the second young mistress had rushed to board a train that morning to return to her family home in Chahar [1] .

Upon hearing this, Situ Weilian felt as if he had been dropped into an ice cellar. When he asked the maidservant for the address of the Jin family home, that maidservant shook her head, replying “I don’t know” to all of his questions.

Situ Weilian was heartbroken, disappearing from then on. He no longer went to the hospital nor cared about anything else, and no one looked for him.

Shen Zhiheng spent the next two weeks in peace, safe and sound in his home, but war was raging in the city outside. The citizens, while angry and anxious on one hand, always thought that the flames of war would not burn into the bustling city on the other. Mi Lan listened to the radio broadcast daily and knew the matters of the war like the back of her hand, but she also always felt that the war was something faraway, and had nothing to do with her bright and shining world. Weren’t the restaurants and foreign firms in the English and French concession zones still open for business as usual? Weren’t people coming and going on the little street behind the Shen mansion as usual?

However, early one morning, she heard a piece of bad news: the Japanese army had started to attack Beiping [2] .

She wanted to tell Shen Zhiheng this piece of news, and Shen Zhiheng so happened to return home from outside.

As the warehouse rental was about to expire, he had left the house at dawn, intending to take care of Li Yingliang’s body. He really did not want to go, he didn’t know how to describe the feelings he had for this person. In any case, he neither wanted to see him alive, nor did he want to see him dead. This man was diabolical and harboured a deep hatred, and it seemed as if he was always bothered by affairs that filled his entire body with heart-wrenching pain. Whenever Shen Zhiheng thought of him, he would frown as if he was suffering in silence. If he was not even willing to think of him, what more see him? And so he kept on dragging it, and upon seeing the calendar this morning, he had realised that he could no longer drag it on, and had bitten the bullet and headed to the warehouse. Li Yingliang had been dead for so long, and his body should long have gone smelly; how was he supposed to take care of a heap of rotten meat? Even thinking about it had made his head hurt.

However, when he had held his breath and entered the warehouse, he had realised that Li Yingliang had long escaped.

He had stared at the small hole at the base of the wall, unable to imagine how Li Yingliang had squeezed out. This menace had quite the ability, and was even more capable than a typical rat at digging holes. If he had known earlier, he should have taken care of him on the spot. However, time cannot flow backwards, and since he had already escaped, Shen Zhiheng had no other choice.

As the saying went, “disasters live for thousands of years”; this was really accurate.

As if nothing had happened, he had locked the main gate and left the warehouse, returning home in his car. On the way, he had seen large numbers of citizens dragging their family and belongings with them as they headed for the concession zone.

It was only when he had entered the house and listened to Mi Lan’s report, when he became a little nervous, “The concession zone should be safe. Is there still rice in the kitchen?”

Mi Lan immediately jumped to check on the rice.

This panic lasted until the evening, when news came from the outside, that the Japanese army was about to send planes to bomb Tianjin. Once bombing really started, since bombs did not kill discriminately, who cared whether they were in the concession zone or not? So, all the lights in the surrounding area were turned off, and every house only dared to turn on a small dim lamp to light up the darkness. And right at this moment when everyone was panicky, Situ Weilian, who had disappeared for half a month, returned. 

Holding his canvas satchel, he boldly told Shen Zhiheng, “I’m here to seek refuge.”

Shen Zhiheng was quite surprised, “I was still under the impression that at a moment like this, you would be accompanying Jin Jingxue.”

Upon hearing this, Situ Weilian looked like he was about to cry. “Jingxue has returned to her family home and has gone back for a while. When she left, she didn’t inform me at all, she definitely doesn’t want me anymore! Da-ge, can you help me look for her? Without her, I can’t continue living, I’m even thinking of killing myself.”

Shen Zhiheng replied, “Our country is in crisis, and I don’t even have the time to take care of myself, how will I have any strength left to help you find your girlfriend?”

“What do you mean our country is in crisis, we’re not even human, what does the country in crisis have got to do with us?”

“I am human, so is Mi Lan.”

“Stubborn bastard [3] ,” Situ Weilian mumbled, but could not think of any other idea for the time being. Now, the outside was in chaos, and he had neither power nor connections; how could he look for Jin Jingxue all by himself?

Therefore, he realised that he truly still could not be apart from Shen Zhiheng. He only wanted to indulge as much as he could, only wanted to play and love to his heart’s content. As for every single matter apart from this, these were detestable, worldly affairs that he should leave to Shen Zhiheng to take care of.

The three of them made do in the parlour for a night.

Situ Weilian missed Jin Jingxue terribly and did not sleep for the entire night; Shen Zhiheng feared terribly that the Japanese army would bomb Tianjin and did not sleep for the entire night; Mi Lan hugged her knees and curled up in one corner of the sofa, terribly calm, and although she too did not sleep for the entire night, this was because she was full of energy and simply not sleepy.

At the same time, two other people who did not sleep were Jin Jingxue and Li Yingliang.

Jin Jingxue had claimed half a month ago that she was going home and had given her servants leave, only leaving behind her two closest maidservants. When everyone else had left, she had told the two maidservants the truth: Young Master Liang had offended a powerful figure, and had come to her mansion last night to seek refuge. In order to protect Young Master Liang, they had to make the house seem as if it had no master for the next few days, in case his enemies chased him all the way there.

And then, she had closed and locked up her door, tending to her wounds and recuperating together with Li Yingliang. Li Yingliang had been mentally deranged, startled by every little thing, for the first few days, and it was only after nearly a week, when he had been finally able to sleep deeply at night. And another week later, he had pretty much regained the reason and appearance of a person.

Just like any normal person, he was also worried about the bombs, and would let Jin Jingxue and the two maidservants sleep at night, while he stayed up to keep watch with a small lamp. Jin Jingxue did not sleep, sitting in a corner as she knitted a sweater with two long bamboo needles. Everything she did in her life was for fun, and even this sweater was knitted perfunctorily.

Sitting by the desk, Li Yingliang folded a piece of cardboard into a lampshade, and he placed it over the lightbulb. 

Then, he said to Jin Jingxue who was beside the table, “Stop knitting, it’s too dark. Your eyes will get tired.”

Jin Jingxue looked at him in surprise. He was sitting with his waist and back ramrod straight, and when the light shone up at him from below, it strongly accentuated his face. His dark eyebrows were slanted diagonally and the corners of his eyes lifted up along the same path, like a famous actor in a photograph.

After looking at him, she displayed that small product in her hands, “Make a guess, what am I knitting?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. If I’m lazy, it’s a scarf. If I’m diligent, perhaps it will become a sweater. Whether it’s a scarf or a sweater, it will depend on your luck.”

Li Yingliang looked at her. “It’s for me?”

She raised her thin eyebrows, continuing to knit. “It’s for the dog.”

Li Yingliang extended his arm and gently took her needle and thread. “Stop knitting, it’s too troublesome. If I want to wear one, I’ll just buy a ready-made one.”

Jin Jingxue asked, “Are you really concerned about me? Or do you not want to owe me a favour? If it’s for the former, I thank you. If it’s the latter, then if you’re so capable, don’t stay in my house, you can leave now.”

Li Yingliang arranged the bamboo needles and thread for a while, and then he looked at the lamp and sighed, “Of course I can’t stay here forever.”

“Then where do you want to go? Leave, I won’t make you stay.”

Li Yingliang suddenly asked, “Second Young Mistress, you said you’ve seen Yokoyama Akira in my house before, and that he seemed to be sympathetic to me?”

“Ah? You aren’t thinking of defecting to the Japanese devils again, are you? They’re even already opening fire on us, and yet you still want to continue being a Chinese traitor? Besides, you caused those secret documents or whatever to be leaked onto the newspapers, will they spare you? If you go to see the Japanese, isn’t that the same as courting death?”

“Yokoyama Akira and I have the same interests. He won’t kill me easily.”

“Forget it! Follow me home after a few days, you’re always welcome there.”

Li Yingliang shook his head, “Escaping is useless. You truly don’t know how powerful the Japanese are. Sooner or later, they will occupy the whole China, and no matter where you run to, the result will be the same. In any case, if we’re going to be slaves of a defeated nation anyway, I might as well just strike first. Besides, I’ve already sold so many years of my life for the Japanese and Yokoyama Akira also appreciates me a lot, I have a foundation. As long as Yokoyama Akira is willing to give me a chance, I can immediately make a comeback.”

“Why do you want to make a comeback? If you want money, I can give it to you. You don’t have to make a comeback!”

“It’s not a matter of money, I want power.” He lowered his voice, “I must make a comeback, if not, the Japanese want to kill me, Shen Zhiheng wants to kill me, I can’t hide together with you forever.”

Jin Jingxue completely could not understand Li Yingliang’s thinking, and was also too lazy to argue with him. Picking up her tools, she continued knitting, but was unable to knit stably, as the sound of gunfire still echoed in the distance from time to time, causing her to be terror-stricken.

After that night, Beiping fell, and the Japanese warplanes started bombing Tianjin [4] .

------------------------------------------------------------

A province of the Republic of China that is now part of Inner Mongolia, Hebei, and Beijing.

This puts the date at around 25 July 1937.

The phrase used here is 死鸭子嘴硬 (sǐ yā zi zuǐ yìng) which can be literally translated as “dead duck, hard mouth”, which figuratively refers to someone being very stubborn.

According to this Wikipedia page (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Beiping%E2%80%93Tianjin), the Japanese actually started attacking Tianjin on 29 July at dawn, and Tianjin fell to the Japanese the night of 30 July. Meanwhile, Beiping (i.e. Beijing) was only fully captured by the Japanese on 8 August. I’m not sure if this is an intentional twist of events on the author’s part to fit the narrative, if it really happened this way, or if I interpreted wrongly (heh).

[slowardblonkey]

This is based on a true story. Since it was years ago, I had to sort of fabricate some of the fine details and dialogue, but for all intents and purposes, you can consider this a true story.

Feedback welcome ?

Some years ago, I had an online omo friend, who took joy from making me hold for her, so I told her that she could control what I drink, and when I would be allowed to release it. I would come to find out, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

At the time, I had been doing quite a bit of holding, and had developed a rather large bladder from it. I believe at the time I could hold somewhere around 1700 ml.

The morning we began, I was allowed to pee at 11 a.m. and told only to drink if I was thirsty. Now, this struck me as rather odd, since I was expecting her to want me desperate that night, after my parents went to bed. (I was in college, but staying with them for the summer)

They day carried on as normal, with me drinking fairly little. (which is about normal for me. Terrible, I know.) I had a glass of water with my lunch, and sipped down another over the course of the afternoon. What also surprised me was how little I heard from the girl in charge of my bladder. It was getting close to dinner time when I got the text: “Have an extra glass of water with dinner ? ” and of course my response was “yes ma'am” as always. For the time being, it had to be. I wasn’t worried about the extra glass, I barely felt anything in my bladder at all at this point.

So, as 7:00 approached, dinner came, and as instructed, I had my glass of water, finished it as I ate, and had another before it was over. By 8, dinner was done and cleaned up, so I texted her again, asking if I had any more instructions. No reply. The next few hours went by without much excitement. I watched some tv, and felt the water from dinner make its way into my bladder. By 10:00 I was feeling those little bladder twinges, hinting at me to go to the bathroom. Not anything I would call urgent, though.

By 11, I was growing tired, and a little impatient. I was ready to give up this game and go to bed, since it wasn’t really turning out to be that exciting.

“Hey, I’m getting ready to go to bed pretty soon… Can I go pee now?”

Finally! A response.

“No, you can hold it. Goodnight ;* ”

Oh.

Well that’s not how I thought that would go…

Usually that’s when these things end..

It’s a little concerning, but at least it’s interesting now.

So I head to bed. For someone that usually pees right before bed every night, going to bed with a slight urge to pee was a very strange feeling, and so it took a good while for me to finally drift off to sleep.

7:00- I wake up, and the very first thing I notice is my bladder, now with 20 hours of urine collected inside it. It was full. Not bursting, but definitely uncomfortable. I could definitely do with some relief at this point, so I text her.

“Good morning”

“Good morning! How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well. It took a little while to get there though. But um… I kinda need to pee.. pretty badly now.. Can I go please? I haven’t since yesterday morning”

“Aw, does someone need a potty break? How bad is it?”

“Well, it definitely wants out, although the urge has died back a little since I first woke up. It’s under control. It feels full and heavy, like there’s a canteloupe in my stomach.”

“So it’s under control? Good! Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go. If I did, then you wouldn’t be full for tonight ? ”

“TONIGHT?! I can’t wait that long! I already really need to go!”

“I think you can do it ?

Oh, and make sure you have a glass of water with lunch ;* check in with me after that. TTYL”

I really had no idea how I was going to wait that long.. But I had my orders.

So I went about my morning as usual, doing some chores and working on a couple little projects I had going on. As I got used to the fullness in my bladder, it became slightly less distracting, but it was always there, and it would always catch my attention again sooner or later. All I could do was bounce my knees a little and try to push it to the back of my mind.

The morning dragged on, but eventually lunchtime came. I just made myself a sandwich, nothing fancy, and the obligatory glass of water to wash it down. My bladder was not happy about the water. Every drink seemed to go straight into it, even though I knew better. I spent much of lunch bouncing my knees under the table to cope with the water I had to drink, but nobody was around too close, so I could get away with it. And as instructed, when I finished my lunch, I texted her an update on my condition.

Afterwards, I took to some reading, hoping that getting lost in a book would help take my mind off my bladder. And after 30 minutes of trying to get focused on it, it did start to work. Unfortunately, it was short lived, as right about then, my phone buzzed.

“Glad to hear you’re holding up so well. I think now would be a perfect time for you to do the dishes, since you’ll need to anyway, and your bladder isn’t going to get any better, don’t you think? ? ”

*Oh no.. dishes.. Just what I need. *

I get up, and notice that while I was reading, the water from lunch had made its way to my bladder, which had now reached the next level of fullness. I felt like I had a large water balloon in my stomach. It was so full that it made me want to bend forward slightly, and I had to put extra effort into standing up straight and not drawing attention to myself.

*Oh no, this isn’t good… It’s only 1:30.. I still have at least 9 hours until everyone else goes to sleep… I don’t know if I can do this..*

So I go downstairs and start on the dishes. Ohhh dishes on a full bladder is not fun.. It took everything I had not to squirm around while the water was running. Even worse when my hands were in the water. I’ve never done dishes faster in my life. I just wanted to be done with them.

After what felt like 2 hours, and was really probably only 20 minutes, I was finally finished with the dishes, and ohh boy my bladder was not happy.. As soon as I dried my hands, I retreated to my room so I could make a private show of squirming around and grabbing myself to try and get the urge back under control. After several minutes of this, my bladder started to calm down a bit, and reverted to the (mostly) dull fullness that I had been getting used to. Although, it still felt fuller this time… so full..

“Hey.. doing the dishes with my bladder like this was really hard! I really don’t know if I can make it to tonight.. it’s so full.. I’ve never even held it this long before! Are you sure I can’t go pee? Pleasseee?"

After a few minutes with no reply, I decide to go back to reading again. It’s even tougher to get into this time. I can’t even find a comfortable position to sit with my full bladder being unhappy with even the slightest pressure on it. But I keep trying, because I’m sure that being totally distracted by a book is the only way I’m going to make it through the many hours that I have left to hold.

Eventually, I do get into the groove with reading, despite being interrupted by a strong urge from my bladder every ten minutes or so. Read, squeeze, read, don’t pee, read, just hold it, read, don’t look at the clock, read, squirm, read. Amazingly, I was able to get invested in the story, and not realize that hours had passed while I was reading.

When I came to, it was close to 6:00, and my bladder was making itself known, constantly. It had become too distracting to read. There was a constant urge to squirm. I needed something more engaging than a book now.. I noticed I’d missed a message:

"Aw, but you’re doing so well so far! I know you can do it, just hang in there ? Oh, and don’t forget to drink a glass of water with dinner ? AND fill up a glass to take back to your room afterwards. I’ll talk to you then ;* ”

Aghh even the thought of having to drink more water made me squirm again.. I really didn’t know how I was going to keep this up. I was getting depserate and I still had something like 4 hours to go. So I fired up the gamecube to try and get distracted. Legend of Zelda usually keeps me pretty occupied, so I give that a shot. And it works. Sort of. It does take my mind off of my bladder, but it doesn’t stop me from bouncing my legs and shifting around almost the whole time I’m playing.

Next thing I know it’s 7:15, and I’m being called downstairs for dinner. Or rather, to help get dinner on the table. When I stood up, the new fullness in my bladder hit me hard. I couldn’t believe how full it was. I had to bend over and squirm for a minute before I could go down there. At this point, I was worried.. I really didn’t know how I was going to hide it while I was down there with everyone else..

Downstairs helping get the food ready, it was difficult to stay stood up straight, and stay still, and don’t pee. Hold it, hold it, hold it. After a few agonizing minutes on my feet, I finally got to sit down again. But the struggle wasn’t over yet. Did I mention we have a glass table? Which means no cover for me. So I spend the next 45 minutes sitting there, surrounded by family, doing everything I can not to fidget and squirm with 33 hours of pee trying to burst out, all the while adding to it by drinking the glass I had been instructed to have, every drink feeling like a whole glass being poured into my bladder, all while trying to stay in conversation and seem like a normal person who hadn’t been holding their pee for over a day.

Finally, dinner was over. But this didn’t mean relief. No, instead it meant that it was time for me to help clean up. Which was absolute torture. It was just like getting ready for dinner all over again, but this time with the added torture of the water I drank with dinner gradually filtering into my bladder. I rushed to get everything cleaned up as quickly as possible, because my bladder was filling, I was already close to my limit, and it showed no signs of slowing down. As soon as I figured it was acceptable to do so, I retreated to my room once more, this time to make an even bigger spectacle for whatever ghosts were watching, doing a full on pee dance and holding myself, so glad to finally be alone again so I can tend to my ever-fuller bladder.

*Ok, it’s 8:45.. they usually go to bed around 10 or 10:30.. So.. an hour and a half? Can I hold it for an hour and a half? nghhh I don’t knowwww*

“Hey.. that water from dinner is setting in.. I’m getting really desperate now.. please, I really really gotta go ? ”

“Aw, you poor thing.. you must be so desperate by now! But you haven’t leaked yet, have you?”

“Miraculously, I haven’t… but I probably will soon! Please let me go”

“I’m glad to hear you haven’t leaked yet! I think you’re gonna be okay. You’re just gonna have to hold it a little longer, okay? At least until everyone is in bed. Let me know when that happens, then we’ll discuss getting you some relief. No leaks! good luck ? ”

*aghh nghh fuck.. I don’t think I can do this *

9:00- At this point, my bladder was so full, I was constantly putting forth effort just to keep the pee from spurting out, squirming, grabbing myself, I couldn’t even think straight. I thought about reading, but I couldn’t possibly concentrate on it, being so desperate. I thought about trying to play LoZ again, but I felt the need to hold myself about 1/3 of the time, and I knew I was gonna need to hold myself as much as possible if I was going to make it for another hour or more. I finally settled on getting on youtube to try and pass the time. So there I sat for the next 30 minutes, holding myself, squirming, fidgeting, and doing everything I possibly can to alleviate the urge even just a little bit. Then my phone buzzed.

“Oh, and that last glass of water you were supposed to bring to your room after dinner? I want that finished before you text me again ? ”

FUCK

I really wished she would have just forgotten about that glass.. just like I had… Dammit. Now I had to go back downstairs and get that glass.

I stood up and gave the pee dance everything I had for a minute, just to try and get it all out of my system for the 2 minutes it would take to go down and get that glass. I took everything I had to stand up straight, keep my legs still, and go downstairs. I had to keep my composure solid as I walked through the living room to the kitchen (where I was still in view). I started pouring the water. I really thought that was going to break me. My breathing all but stopped while the water was flowing, and the stress that seeing it put on my bladder caused me to leak just one tiny little spurt.

*Shit shit shit! I’m leaking, standing 30 feet from my parents! *

I made a beeline back to my room, luckily without any more incidents. This was getting out of hand, I was so desperate. Once in private again, I did a full on pee dance.

After I had managed to calm my bladder down just a little (LITTLE) bit, I went back to watching youtube, this time with more squirming than last time, and a constant grip on myself, just to make sure there were no leaks.

*9:45… okay, just keep holding it, you can do it.. just don’t pee.. hold it, hold it, hold it*

*10:00.. okay, 1/3 of my glass is gone, so that’s good, and hopefully it won’t be too long until everyone’s in bed.. *

At about 10:10, I had to stand up and pace around the room, doing a pee dance and squirming and holding myself, I just needed to move around to take the edge off. 10:20 I sit down again.

*10:25 gotta pee gotta pee gotta pee aghh fuck I’m so desperate I have to pee NOW nghh…

Wait… no, they can’t.. are they watching a movie?? fuck I’m gonna piss myself *

*10:30 shit, I have to drink that water too nghhhh *

At this point, I finished off another 1/3 of my glass, and my bladder revolted. It cramped and squeezed and forced another spurt out before I could even reach down to stop it.

*10:40 Dammit! when are they gonna go to bed! I’m pissing myself over here! *

At 10:45 I finally heard them turn off the tv and start heading to bed. Meanwhile, I’m pacing around my room, bent over, squirming all over the place, holding myself with two hands, doing everything I can to hold onto just under 36 hours of boiling piss that’s just ready to explode.

With great effort, I pull one hand away to text her.

“Okay, they’re going to bed now, and I’m holding with two hands just to not piss myself! Please, I need to pee, now!”

10:50, I heard them close their door. Now I had the freedom to move about the house, as long as I was quiet, but that didn’t help me much, because I still didn’t have permission to pee!

*aghh fuck, the water *

So I finished my glass of water. This time I drank with one hand and held myself tightly with the other, and fortunately I was able to prevent any leaks, but not for a lack of trying on my bladder’s part. I was fit to burst, any moment now.

10:55: “Aw, someone really really needs a potty break now, huh? You poor thing.. but you can hold a little more for me, can’t you? You can ? ”

“No, I really can’t, I’m about to burst, please let me go!”

“Hmm I guess we’ll just see about that… Go downstairs bathroom and get on skype with me”

11:00- We started the skype call. These never end well for me..

H: aw, look at you, so desperate, squirming around.. you really need to go, don’t you?

M: Yes, I really do, please let me go

-At this point, I’m holding myself, my knees pressed tight together, bobbing up and down, breathing heavily

H: mmm not yet, I’m just starting to have fun. You can hold it for me a little longer, can’t you? 5 minutes?

M: i..I’m sorry, but n.no, I don’t think I can hold it another minute..

H: What’s that? Are you telling me no?

M: Agh.. i..I’m sorry, I mean.. Y..Yes ma'am, I’ll hold as l.long as you say..

-Trembling at this point, leaks threatening to burst through my fingers

H: That’s more like it ? Now, let’s try taking those hands away..

M: I ccan’t.. please.. I’ll pee..I..

H: Do it.

M: Y..yes ma'am..

-As soon as I release my grip, a large spurt bursts out, and I have to squirm and dance like crazy just to reduce it to a light drip

H: Stop that!

M: I’m t..trying

-I barely manage to gasp out. I’m so desperate I can barely breathe. With 36 hours of hot piss in my bladder, some of it keeps dribbling out, and all the squirming and dancing I can do can’t stop it

And that’s when I feel it.. that last drink I took from my glass of water.. It was choosing this moment to enter my bladder, and that was it. That was all I could take. I felt my already watermelon-sized bladder expand a bit more for just a second, I felt fuller than I had previously thought possible, and then the leaky dam burst. The dribble turned into spurts, into a stream, into a torrent, and next thing I know, I’m soaking from the waist down, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. After 36 hours, my bladder finally won.

H: Aw, you’re having an accident? You really did have to go didn’t you? tsk tsk.. It looks like you’re going to need some more practice controlling your bladder…

Via Kenn on Omorashi.org

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I Am Blackened Bones (Part 10)

The fire spirit watches the angry man go. And good riddance to he and his selfish nature and his unpredictable, albeit, short lived bouts of anger. At least she will no longer have to worry about he and his moods. She only has to fret over the man that they call Sokka. She supposes that she would rather tiptoe around Sokka, at least he is comical when he snaps at her. She senses more stress and trepidation than outright hatred and annoyance from him anyhow. She doesn’t think that he hates her, mostly he wants her to stop tinkering with his belongings. 

The humans seem very fussy over what belongs to them. And maybe she doesn’t understand because she doesn’t have anything to call her own to be fussy over. 

No, nothing at all unless her own body is to be counted. But even that doesn’t feel like it is hers most of the time. The things that happen to it are controlled by things that she can’t understand. Things that she suspects she doesn’t want to understand. 

What she does know is that it is better if she doesn’t know.

If she doesn’t know the things that she doesn’t know, then she can’t be distraught over not knowing them. The desire to know won’t nag at her.

And yet it seems to be nagging at her right now. 

Wouldn’t it be nice to know why she is on fire? And why the fire never goes out. She could possibly stop it if she knew why it is happening—what is causing it. 

Perhaps that is precisely why she doesn’t know; she is meant to burn and the forces that scorch her want to keep up the smoldering. 

There are, however, other forces at work. Those forces have blue and gray eyes. Those forces have big ears and arrowed hands. Those forces also have waterbending and a soothing voice. To the side, Sokka and Toph go about their own business; mostly picking up the things that Zuko has left behind.

He will be back sooner rather than later, the fire spirit deduces. 

“Are you listening to us?” Katara bites her lip.

Truth be told, she hadn’t been. The spirit finds it hard to pay attention—the world around her is so vivid and so busy. There is alway something or another going on; the canopy is always rustling, some critter is always snapping twigs, the light always filters through in different ways, sunrays always dance differently…

“Hey!” the fire spirit jerks at the sound of her voice. “Aang and I want to try something. It’s going to hurt a little bit, but we need to test a theory so that we can help you.” The fire spirit senses that Katara hopes that she understands what she is saying. She clenches her twiggy fingers and that is answer enough for Katara who tells Aang, “Alright, Aang. Firebend. Just a little.”

The spirit fire squirms.

She doesn’t want them to go through with this little trial; whether the flame is the size of a tea light or the size of a bonfire it all sears her the same. But Katara has mistaken her fearful clenching for bracing herself and, by extension, permission.

Heedless and unaware of her unease, the Avatar calls fire to his fingertips. Just two tiny little dots of glowing orange but her own fire reacts with just as much fury as it usually does. It retracts from the surface and sinks deeper and the twitches begin. They are mostly involuntary, a series of jerks and jolts that she doesn’t want to resist anyhow. For as much as it hurts, there is not enough fire to bring the twitches to full on spasms. They do, however, leave her pacing and agitated. 

“Hold still.” Katara instructs.

The spirit is keen on continuing to pace until the irritation subsides to a more manageable level. 

“Please sit still so I can…” She holds up a flimsy square of water. 

The fire spirit does not cease her pacing and so Katara puts herself in the spirit’s path. She seems to inspect her, look her over until she grows terribly uncomfortable. The spirit does not like being observed. She enjoys doing the observing. 

“Well?” Aang asks. 

“The fire is definitely inside of her now.” Katara confirms. 

The chatter, she realizes too late, has rendered her careless. The fire spirit, also much too late, realizes that she had let her guard down and now she is dripping wet. She half-screech, half-hisses at the waterbender. 

For some reason the waterbender is laughing at her vicious outburst. 

Steam ripples off of her arms and probably her head too. It outlines the entirety of her body and curls through the space between her ribcage. Her heart, still glowing a dull orange, constricts. They have put her fire out.

They have…

What have they done?

The fire spirit trembles. Have they killed her? They must have because she doesn’t feel anything…

She doesn’t feel anything. 

She doesn’t feel pain.

“It’s alright.” The Avatar smiles. The fire spirit holds her arm out in front of her. “See, no more fire.” 

And that is exactly what she fears. It will come soon, she is certain of that. That fire was her lifeforce…wasn’t it?

Katara takes her hand. “That feels better, doesn’t it?” 

The no-longer-on-fire spirit eyes the hand that strokes the back of hers as she mulls the question over. It doesn’t feel better…it doesn’t feel at all. Is that how not being in pain is supposed to feel? Like nothing at all? Feeling better is not the presence of something but an absence. This absence feels much different than the absence that comes when she tries to recall what her old mantra had meant. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

At the shake of the spirit’s head, Katara is grinning. 

“Great! That’s amazing news!” And she wraps her arms around the spirit. And the spirit is confused. But she feels something. Two things; relief and…something light and spinning. Something like feathers and nervous jitters. 

The spirit concludes that she is, in fact, not dying.

She is just wet. 

Wet and a touch sad because she is wet.

.oOo.

The fire stays out for a while but then bursts back and the spirit is whimpering again. Katara could be imagining it but it seems as though the spirit is whimpering more than ever, having experienced a window of peace only for it to be taken from her. 

“Should we do more waterbending?” Aang asks. 

Katara bites the inside of her cheek. “Aang, we’d have to do it every hour. And a good portion of the water evaporates as soon as it hits her skin…we can’t waste water like that. I mean it’s not a waste, it’s for an important cause but we also need enough water to drink…”

“I don’t know, she seemed dripping wet to me.” Aang replies.

“Yeah, kind of like a sad polar bear dog.” Toph remarks. 

“I don’t know.” Katara murmurs. “It might be better to just let her stay used to the pain—so that its more tolerable for her—until we find a more long term solution. What if we are just making it worse.”

“We can travel close to the river.” Sokka suggests. 

“Great idea, Sokka, lets just chuck the spirit into the river whenever she gets all fired up.” Toph laughs.

“Th-that’s not what I mean and you know it!” He exclaims. 

“Man, I love it when your voice does that thing where it gets several pitches higher.” Toph wipes a tear from her eye. “You’re a real riot, Sokka.”

Katara glances at the spirit who has taken to pacing around again. She has been wandering in circles for at least fifteen minutes now. And she has taken to doing it on all fours. Katara speculates that the spirit’s legs are too shaky to carry her on their own. If not…

Katara’s stomach tickles. 

If not, the spirit might be regressing? Devolving? Can that happen; can a humanoid spirit become less human over time? Is it a choice?

She hopes that she is just reading too much into it. That the pain is simply making the spirit less social and less rational. 

“We could stick close to the river.” Aang agrees. “And that could help us with our search for Azula, she’d be smart enough to stick close to a source of water.” 

“Wait, we’re still doing that?” Sokka asks. “I thought that we’d give it a rest now that Zuko is off doing…”

“Impulsive, stupid shit?” Toph fills in.

Sokka nods. “I thought that we were just going to focus on…” he gestures to the spirit with his head. 

“We can manage two things at once.” Katara replies. “Alright, we’ll try sticking to the river for a few days and see how it goes. But we have to find a better way.” She turns to Aang. “Do you know anything about what kind of spirit that is?”

He shakes his head. “If we can keep that fire out for a while and get the spirit to focus I might be able to talk to her and get some answers.”

“What if she doesn’t want to or can’t communicate?” Sokka asks. 

“I…I guess that I could try energybending. I don’t like it but…” He frowns. “In this case it might be worse to not try.”

“Think it over, Aang. I know that you’re afraid to energybend. In the meantime, I’ll try to comfort the spirit.” Katara takes a deep breath and pulls some water from the river. She hovers it over the antsy spirit and lets it drop. 

There is a horrible hiss as the fire douses and the steam begins to rise, blanketing the spirit entirely. And when the steam lets up Katara is granted a view of the poor spirit bunched in on herself, legs drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them. Thick wisps of steam still roll gently off of her body. 

Katara wraps her arms around herself. The spirit looks so small and vulnerable. She is shaking.

Katara isn’t sure how many times she can do this. She doesn’t think that the spirit understands that they are trying to help. For all she knows, the spirit probably thinks that they enjoy pestering her with water. 

And so she kneels down by the spirit. “Hey. Come on, lets…” lets what? There is nothing to do really. Nothing but lift the spirit into her arms. It is a risk when the spirit can burst back into flames at any time. But she decides that she is willing to accept that risk when the spirit nuzzles herself into the embrace.

[shadowstarion]

strangers • pregame shadowstarion

i am a sucker for the “we met once and had an impact on one another but neither of us remembered it” trope and i need them crossing paths at least once. this is just some thoughts/concepts for a fic featuring baby sharran shadowheart and rookie vamp spawn astarion

++ warning for mentions of trauma & abuse

Novice Shadowheart being the honeypot piece for an investigation on disappearances near her House. She’s sheltered and awkward, not yet confident in herself, and the idea of going to seedier hangouts in town makes her very uncomfortable, which is 75% of the reason this task gets assigned to her. Her sitting nervously in a tavern bar, feeling overexposed in that leather getup and nursing a drink.

Astarion approaches her and she’s smitten in an instant— there’s no way that this is the creep her superiors are after, right? He’d walked right up to her in plain view, his flirtation is polite and respectful even. All of his words and touches are sweet ones, compliments and chaste caresses. She realizes it feels nice to be just a girl in a bar, batting her eyelashes and enjoying the attention of a stranger. No obligations, no pressure to be perfect, no standards for her to meet other than simply existing as she is.

There’s no moment of “she’s the love of my life i must spare her from certain death” where Astarion consciously refuses to lure her home, he just… doesn’t. They end their night together with an almost-kiss after she’d insisted on bidding him farewell, sounding almost pained. He’d leaned in for it, to give her that mesmerizing kiss that would linger in her mind and draw her back here some other night, but she’d winced and flinched away at the last second before hastily leaving. And Astarion would let it happen. With his skill set and the clientele of the tavern, he’ll have plenty more options to bring home for his master’s dinner. Maybe some part of him just wanted to be an interested suitor chatting up a shy but beautiful maiden, not a hunter in pursuit of prey.

The whole time they’re talking, Shadowheart is growing more convinced that this stranger was not the one she was meant to seduce and interrogate, but she just can’t tear herself away from him. Shar is punishing her for it, her brand flaring up once or twice throughout. Of course her patron would protest at this, her wasting her time flirting around instead of pursuing the objective, the way her smiles and laughs are growing much too genuine. So she rushes back to the cloister, repents for her failures, and has the mission wiped entirely from her memories.

Astarion forgets because he hadn’t been able to bring home supper that night. Entertaining that pretty girl at the bar bleeds into a tick in the endless tally of tortures, no different from any other evening he’d come home to a punishment. Faces and names are hard to recall, everything stained by Cazador’s cruelty.

When they meet again, neither of them have any idea they’d ever met before. That entire day’s worth of time was erased from her mind, she couldn’t possibly remember him. Even if Astarion might have remembered Girl At The Tavern #147 for some reason, he wouldn’t recognize her immediately— her hair is much longer now, she’s slimmed down a bit, and her personality is forcibly cold and prickly.

Regardless of how their story ends, I don’t think they’d ever even know. If Shadowheart did recognize him via Selune returning her memories, she wouldn’t tell him. Knowing she’d been one of his failed targets in that time would only make him feel terrible, and what’s the use in dredging up old wounds now when they’re finally free from abuse? She’ll just keep how he made her feel close to her chest as a cherished memory.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I'm sorry can I be weird about platonic Yandere watchmen on main rn? I just think they would be so complicated and toxic and shit but they would tear each other apart for their kids attention. Rorschach would stalk and hunt down anyone who would hurt you. Dan would try so hard to be a normal father figure but he's just so paranoid all of the time? Laurie would try to get you out of being a hero so bad. Adrian would try his hardest to be a beacon of normalcy from the rest. Dr. Manhattan is y'know

I want to say that the Watchmen would be much more toxic towards each other but try for the most part to be pretty good for their kiddo. Neither party thinks the others are anywhere capable of being what their kid needs, each member being a hypocrite in their own right. At first, I could see Dan being the one to persuade everyone to come together and be a family that their darling needs only for that to really be what tears the group apart. It’s Dan, Laurie and Adrian who are the ones who really try and even then Adrian isn’t completely trying. To be honest he would much rather prefer not having this little so called family dynamic thing going on and has his own plans to help make it come to an end. Eventually it’s pretty glaringly obvious that this just isn’t going to work. Everyone has such different ways they want to go about bringing their bby up and their own version of what a family should or shouldn’t be that they all come to a begrudging agreement to co-parent individually, resulting in their obsession being pulled every which way like a crude game of tug of war.

Daniel especially seems to be the one who is really honestly trying to be a typical father figure. He really wants to give his bby the best, not just that but he wants to be the best for them. But he can’t turn off his paranoia, he can’t help but be overwhelmed by the many terrible thoughts and worries that cloud his mind when it comes to his bby’s safety and overall wellbeing. With his constant paranoia and need to protect his bby at all costs, Dan would grow to become smothering towards his darling. He knows they need their space, he knows he shouldn’t be hovering over them as much as he does but he can’t help it. He’s well aware that his actions could very well push his bby away from him and that thought alone scares the hell out of him but he can’t say he doesn’t understand it. Dan wouldn’t blame his kid for wanting some space and as much as he wants to give it to them he can’t bring himself to. At least not completely.

Rorschach comes off more as not being too involved, he’s more hands off than the others but that doesn’t mean he does know what’s going on with their darling. On the contrary, Rorschach is very much aware of everything going on with and around his kid. He keeps a very close eye on them, watching and taking notes of everything happening. It isn’t too often that Rorschach actually physically interacts with his kid but he does keep an excruciatingly close eye on them and protects them from anything he views as a threat. The most interaction Rorschach has with his kiddo is if they were a hero or trying to take on becoming a vigilante, then he would be more inclined to take on more of a mentor role for them in his own way.

Laurie, similar to Dan, tries hard to be the epitome of a good/perfect parent. She wants to be the one her bby can depend on for anything, the first person they run to when they need absolutely anything. She wants to be the one to comfort and love them, she knows she’s the only one who can truly give them that. She wouldn’t be nearly as paranoid as Dan is but she is very much worried about her darling’s safety. Especially if they were in fact a hero/vigilante themself. She would be extremely incessant when it came to trying to get her darling to give it up. She can’t fathom anything happening to them, especially without her being there to prevent it. She would of course seek advice from her own mother about what to do and how to go about things without causing her darling to pull away from her. Of course her greatest fear is anything happening to her darling at all but her second biggest fear was having her darling hate her. She didn’t want that, she couldn’t possibly bear it.

Adrian would try to give their darling more of a semblance of normalcy to a degree but he mostly just spoils the absolute hell out of them. He wants to make it very clear who the better parent is out of the Watchmen and it’s him. He proves just how much he can give and provide his bby. Anything they wanted, Adrian could give them easily. Out of all the Watchmen, Adrian is the most cunning and willing to sabotage his fellow Watchmen when it comes to gaining the favor of their darling. He’s not nearly as fearful of having his darling hate him, of course it would bother him but he knows he’s doing what’s best for them. Even if that means keeping them locked up against their will in his own personal oasis. But that wouldn’t be the first thing he does, no, he would work up to that later on. Baby steps after all. Adrian wouldn’t necessarily be accepting of his darling being a hero/vigilante but he would come off far more supportive and encouraging of it then he actually is. He’d even go as far as to give his bby the best tech needed to ensure their safety and help them with their heroic endeavors. But really, Adrian wants nothing more than for his bby to not be involved with crime fighting whatsoever. Maybe it’s him using reverse psychology on them or just him biding his time and trying to play himself off as such so that he’s seen as the more accepting and better Watchmen in his bby’s eyes because of it. Either way, Adrian would devise a plan to get his darling to stop crime fighting one way or another, whether by their own accord or he has to force their hand into doing so. Adrian wouldn’t be too opposed to formulating a plan to do just that even if it meant traumatizing and even scarring his darling in the process so long as it worked out in his favor. And of course he would come to save the day at just the right moment, further proving to the Reader just who exactly is the most dependable and caring parent out of the Watchmen.

Jon could very easily take the darling away from the other Watchmen members if he so wanted and he would. In the beginning he decides to go along with the whole family dynamic thing and sharing of their darling. For a while it’s alright and he could tolerate the others being so involved with his kid but when everything falls apart and the fighting starts up even worse then before, Jon would feel the need to take the darling away from the situation. When the prospect of co-parenting comes up, Jon doesn’t really want to take part in it. He knows a repeat of before is bound to happen and he doesn’t want his darling forced into the middle of it all. But reluctantly he would agree if only to oversee the other members’ interactions with his bby. It doesn’t take long for him to regret having not taken his darling after the first time. Sure things aren’t necessarily bad but they aren’t what their kid deserves either. It isn’t until the other Watchmen are at each other’s throats again when Jon decides enough is enough and takes the darling away right before everyone’s eyes. And he takes them far, far away. From everything unworthy of so much as being near his bby. He knows the others will come looking for them, they already started the second he up and left with their kid but he also knows it’ll take them awhile to find exactly where they are. Until then he has plenty of time with his bby all to himself.

[the-nocturnal-writer]

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

I could've sat there and wrote this forever, but losing one save has scared me into posting it, plus it's late pffft. They were a little longer but I've been trying to hold back from spoiling too much stuff lately (I'm terrible for it). Thank you for the question, Anon!!

-

Ashborn

Very noticeable. She is much less sporadic with her actions and words, being more careful with what they say and do since they tend to be impulsive without regard for others feelings, so when around someone they love, Ash will be more gentle with their words and appear way more enthralled in the conversation she has with them. It all in her eyes, Ashborn can’t hide how infatuated she is from the start. This is what makes them one of the healthier romance options.

Constantin

Constantin isn’t obvious, in the way he has no clue what he’s feeling, just a shocking realisation that they managed to make him feel pleasant in his desensitised state. The more notable things that change are the fact he becomes a little less tense and tries to speak more with them, makes an effort to seek them out just to continue feeling genuine happiness with them, and as much as he’ll hate to admit it, he immediately goes back to feeling a dull numbness when they’re not around… probably why he makes them a lot of bone trinkets. Overall, Constantin just gives off a more peaceful presence when around them. 

Crowley

He’s either going to be more loved or very hated with this one. At the first sign of him falling in love, Crow becomes a brick wall of emotions before bolting. He’s noticeable, in the sense he treats them like a giant asshole to push them away, nasty words, threatening to eat them, and being a pessimistic idiot to create distance. At the end of the day, Crow has to hope that’s enough, he needs love too much to avoid them forever.

Eden

Oh sweet snake lady, she’s so obvious when in love. Eden will be enthralled by them, constantly start up conversations only to fluster herself and duck behind whatever furniture is closest, recommend books they might enjoy or even randomly give them baked goodies, she won’t try to hide it, but she will be hesitant to admit it. Having Fern makes her want to confirm one thing before she acts on her feelings, and it’s making sure they understand being with her means watching over Fern. At the end of the day, Eden is a mother that puts her daughter before herself. 

Heka

Heka isn’t noticeable… sort of. Our dear devil is extremely well versed in hiding his thoughts and emotions, it’s easy when he’s a sweetheart to absolutely everybody. While it wouldn’t be completely clear just by looking at him, he would be one-hundred percent honest about it if asked. It’s not that Heka is trying to hide it, more hesitates to act on it. He needs a certain level of certainty before he’ll convince himself to open up a little, but when he does, Heka is more genuine and affectionate with them, if a little mischief. He does enjoy teasing his loved ones. 

Rowan

Rowan has perfected the craft of hiding their feelings, especially in matters of love, and if caught, they’ll deny it. The only sign of Rowan being in love, is how quick they are to contradict their own words. They say to stay away, yet seek them out themself. They’d say they like being alone, then run to find and hold their complete attention. They don’t make things easy for themself, desperately wanting to love but putting on a front that says otherwise.

Sonja

One of the tougher romance options, Sonja falls in love fast and hard, but she also keeps it to herself. She won’t make it obvious outside of longing stares, subconsciously seeking them out for conversation and to know they’re safe and sound. Even Sonja has a boiling point and when she reaches it, she’ll be screaming how much she loves them to the whole damn town. She has such a big heart and is so afraid to use it.

[izloveshorses]

before you came into my life, i missed you so bad

one | two |

Anya is the movie star the entire world is in love with. Dmitry is some broke owner of a dying bookshop in St. Petersburg. Her face is on every billboard, he couldn't care less about the latest blockbuster. But when their paths cross, somehow their differences-- nor half the globe separating them-- don't seem to matter.

Or a dimya Notting Hill au no one asked for.

chapter 1 under the cut, otherwise read the rest on ao3!

Anastasia Romanov may have been a graceful star on film, but she wished the paparazzi knew Anya was actually rather ordinary.

In the last week of filming, she managed to slip away out of the city center of St. Petersburg and into a more quaint residential area. She wanted to explore on her own for a bit after a rather grueling schedule, maybe get a pastry and some coffee, and otherwise just live anonymously for a few precious moments. The locals left her alone. But the paparazzi, somehow, always found her. She wondered if they had bloodhounds on leashes on their payroll.

Anya didn’t think much of it when she quietly slipped into this bookstore. Hadn’t paid attention to what kind of shop she was entering, just saw a door and a way to escape the parasites with their cameras for just a few moments of reprieve.

She hadn’t expected everything to change.

Once inside she beelined behind a shelf with her back to the door and the collar of her jacket pulled up even higher. It was overkill, she knew, with her black beret and sunglasses indoors, but she just. She just needed a break. Growing up in this industry made her a little more than paranoid, and lately they’ve been relentless.

“Is there anything you’re looking for?”

She hadn’t noticed the man until he spoke. He was sitting at the cash register, thumbing through stacks of papers and typing buttons on a calculator, using a friendly customer service voice but not really looking at her, his tone implying he hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe she hadn’t run out of luck today.

“Just browsing,” she said quickly. To prove it she made a show of brushing her fingers over the spines along the random shelf, ducking her head so he couldn’t get a good look at her if he decided to lift his head.

She finally allowed herself to really study the bookshop, and decided she liked it. There was a quiet charm about it that you just didn’t see very often anymore. Hollywood had all of those shops that were manufactured to look vintage and rustic and trendy— decorated with distressed furniture, selling new releases, hiring handsome men who also worked at the coffee shops that were just the same, in buildings that were torn down and rebuilt a year ago— but this place actually was old. The smell was musty and thick, it reminded her of her grandmother’s apartment in Paris and her father’s study all at once. There was a hush that suggested she was one of few, if not the only, customers in here at this hour.

An old clock ticked on the wall. Seven more minutes in here should be enough to throw the paparazzi off her trail. To keep up the pretenses, she selected the first random book her hand could grab and opened it without looking at the title.

“Oh, that book is terrible.”

The voice made her jump, eyes snapping up to him. He was still looking down at his paperwork but there was a teasing smile on his lips. “The author definitely has never been east of Strasbourg, let alone to Saint Petersburg,” he explained, looking up at her finally and his grin widening, dimples poking through his cheeks. Anya decided she liked his smile more than the bookshop.

Her eyebrows rose. He had surprised her, but she wouldn’t give him much more than that. And then, trying to understand what he was saying, she read the title. Travel Guide: Saint Petersburg, the Heart of Russia. Oh. He was making a joke.

In her silence he stood from the desk. It was a small bookshop so it only took two strides for him to join her in the aisle, reaching for a different title. He was tall. Like, really tall. Granted, everyone towered over her, especially when she was working with actors like Zachary Levi, but still. He was broad and carried himself with confidence that rivaled the men in Hollywood. In just a button up and a t-shirt and jeans, his presence would still command a room. She noticed he had a paperback folded in his back pocket. His dark hair flopped down into his eyes and curled behind his ears. She decided she liked that, too.

“If I may,” he started, casually, like he didn’t care about her opinion even though he was clearly working very hard to influence her purchase. “There’s a much better one… ah, here it is!” He hastily slid a different book from the shelf. “I can assure you this author has at least been to Russia. Definitely knows what he’s talking about.”

Without warning a smile tugged the corner of her mouth. She still couldn’t decide if he recognized her or not. But he was so charming that she felt comfortable humoring him, taking the book from his hand to examine it. It wasn’t part of a dull and surface-level series from a famous publishing company like the one she had inconsiderately chosen, but something lengthier, something more personal. “You care an awful lot about what kind of book I’m buying from you,” she finally said.

“Oh, you’ve got it wrong,” he said, his playful voice making her look back up at him, “I care because if you buy this and think, ‘this is the most god-awful book I’ve ever read,’ you’ll never want to come back to my bookshop. Or worse, you’ll think, ‘Saint Petersburg is the most god-awful place,’ and never want to return.”

“Hmm…” she couldn’t help it, her smile spread. “Well, I appreciate the commitment, then.”

“I’m just doing my duty as a bookseller, ma’am.”

She opened to the first page. “I see it’s signed by the author.”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

That did it— that made her laugh. It was just a short huff of air through her nose, but still, that didn’t happen very often anymore. Not with strangers or anyone outside of her family, anyway. She shook her head. When she looked up again he seemed pleased, not in a predatory way, not in a gotcha way either, but genuinely delighted by her, for her. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her like that.

His eyes found something behind her and his whole expression changed. “Ah, shit,” he muttered, “sorry— hang on.”

And he disappeared to the back section she didn’t even realize existed. Curiosity made her scoot down away from her hiding spot to watch what had soured this very nice and very normal man. There was another customer in here after all, an even more normal-looking guy. “Hey, man,” her new friend the bookseller said. “If you would like that book you stuffed into your shirt, you can buy it.”

The customer just stared. “I don’t have a book stuffed in my shirt.”

“You do. There’s a security camera back here and the monitor is behind my desk.”

Anya found the camera he was pointing to. Impressive. She made her way to another aisle, still pretending to browse while she eavesdropped.

“Look, man, it’s embarrassing enough to steal from a bookstore. But stealing from a travel bookstore? Come on. I’m probably more broke than you are.”

His back was to her, but he had his hands on his hips, his tone more disappointed and annoyed than threatening. She wondered if he knew how far he could get with such powers of persuasion. How he would do wonders in the film industry.

They went back and forth a few more times before the bookseller guy won out. She was facing the register so he gave her an aggravated yet humored smile, an inside joke smile, as he walked behind the desk. She didn’t know why she was still lingering here, now that she had been inside long enough.

But maybe she had overstayed because on his way out, the wannabe thief muttered, “Can I have your autograph?”

She winced. She should’ve seen this coming, but a lot of what had happened today disarmed her. His expression was shy yet unblinking. Staring at her with that strange want. He was already holding out his new book for her to sign. Without her control her eyes glanced over at the cashier, trying to read him. His brows were pulled together in puzzlement. It was nice while it lasted, she thought.

She accepted the pen with a sigh. “To…”

“Peter.”

When she handed the receipt back to him she started walking toward the register so she could speed up this part a bit. But the guy still lingered. “What’s the note at the top?”

Her sigh was thin. She looked up at him. Her handwriting was perfect, there was no way he couldn’t read it, but maybe he didn’t believe it. “It says, ‘To the shitty book thief, Peter’.”

Poor Peter’s face flushed red. “Thank you,” he muttered before nearly running outside.

The cashier’s smile was wide, surprised, his eyebrows high. But he moved slower now, more cautious, like he was trying to decipher the interaction that was daily for her and bizarre to him. “Just the one?” he asked gingerly as he scanned the barcode of the book and hit a few numbers on the register.

She fumbled in her purse for some cash, but she must’ve left all of that back in her hotel. Debit card it was, then.

Up until then she wasn’t sure, but now she definitely knew he wasn’t playing dumb at all when he acted like he hadn’t recognized her. Because he didn’t until now. As the receipt printed his eyes widened and he did a double take, up to her face and then down at the name printed out, the nearly imperceptible intake of breath making his chest expand. Almost reflexively his hand came up to push his bangs away from his face.

“Uh… I just need you to sign…”

She grabbed a little pen from the cup in front of the register and carefully signed her name above where it was printed. And then he surprised her again.

“This isn’t some gimmick to get your autograph, though, I promise.”

She smiled up at him, almost apologetic. “Thank you for your devoted assistance.”

She thought the joke fell a little flat but he still smiled, though she couldn’t tell if he was just in shock or was embarrassed he didn’t recognize her sooner or if he was genuinely laughing. She made sure to pick up a business card on her way out.

She didn’t look at the card until she was outside again, a bell ringing as the door shut behind her. Dmitry Sudayev, the card said.

Even though she knew she’d never see him again, somehow she found she had already memorized the shape of his name without trying.

~~~

Dmitry was an idiot. 

No, worse than an idiot. Dumbass wasn’t even strong enough of a word for someone who met Anastasia Romanov in his own bookshop and didn’t even recognize her. For god’s sake, he flirted with her! Right to her face! 

Not that he wanted her autograph or anything. He just… probably would have behaved more appropriately. And not pretend that a girl like that would ever give him a chance. Vlad had warned him his lack of pop culture engagement would bite him in the ass one day. Maybe this was it. Karma or something in the universe was laughing at him. Her face was plastered on every billboard and film poster and TV commercial and Oscars recap footage and he was so out of touch with the world he didn’t even realize one of the most famous Hollywood actresses in the world was standing right in front of him. She probably thought he was some loser.

Then again, she had smiled up at him, and it seemed so genuine… 

The door chimed. “So sorry I’m late!” Vlad whistled his way through the shop, some tune Dmitry recognized from the radio. “The metro workers were on strike again, so the line was down.”

He looked up from his desk, where he’d been staring at his pile of paperwork in misery, hands folded in his own hair. 

Vlad hung up his coat on the rack. “Did I miss anything?”

Usually, the mornings at work were so uneventful that this was their joke— that they would miss something exciting if one of them was late. But Dmitry didn’t know how to answer that in a way his coworker would believe him. 

He stood from his desk, the chair nearly tipping over from the force of it. “I— need coffee,” he explained, shrugging on his own jacket. “Want anything?” 

Vlad didn’t seem to notice Dmitry’s odd behavior and happily requested a latte— unless he was going to that place around the block, then he would rather have the tea, since their lattes sucked. 

On the way back, drink carrier in hand, Dmitry was so lost in thought he wasn’t paying attention as he turned the corner and literally collided with someone.

“Oh my god— sorry—” he fumbled, and then his heart stopped when he realized who was now wearing his drink. She had her sunglasses on, but there was no mistaking it. It was her. “Shit— I’m so sorry, can I—”

“Don’t,” she said when he reached for her. Right. Fair. He uselessly handed her a paper napkin. 

God. Could this day get any worse? 

“Look— don’t take this the wrong way, but my flat is nearby if you want to change.”

She leveled a glare at him. How starkly different this was than their meeting this morning. Well, he would glare too, if their roles were reversed. “How near are we talking? Give me a numerical distance.”

He had to fight a smile. “Literally across the street. Look,” he pointed to the door of his townhouse. “See that maroon door? That one’s mine. My roommate isn’t home.” 

Her expression remained the same. “If this is a trick—”

“No tricks,” he held up both of his hands. “Scout’s honor.” 

She pursed her lips, looking left and right, then down at her stained top, weighing her options. “Don’t let anyone see.”

“Got it.”

They crossed the street when traffic broke, and he fumbled with his keys before pushing the door open, letting her walk inside first. He hoped she knew this wasn’t some play, he just wanted to make up for being so clumsy this morning. 

“Bathroom is just up the stairs,” he said, locking the door behind them. “Take as long as you need. The sink works, but you need to turn on the hot and cold at the same time…”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she said, brushing past him up the stairs. 

“Do you need— clothes? Or something?”

“I’ve got some,” she dismissed. “I was going to change eventually anyway. To ditch the photographers.”

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling more and more idiotic by the second. When he heard the door shut he scrambled to straighten up. 

His flat wasn’t a mess, exactly. His roommate was tidy. Dmitry was tidy too, but the space felt a little too lived-in for company. He couldn’t remember the last time a guest stepped foot inside. His bike was by the door instead of in the closet, the throw blankets hadn’t been folded, a handful of dishes sat in the drying rack. He stopped racing around when he heard her quiet tread on the steps and he tried to lean as casually as possible against the counter. 

Anastasia had changed from her black ensemble to something brown and patterned, still too stylish to blend in, in his opinion, but appropriate for the October weather. With her sunglasses off her eyes were the bluest thing in the room. 

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, then cleared his throat because his voice was strangely out of tune. 

“No, thank you,” she answered. Her annoyance with him had dissipated a little, thankfully. 

And then the lock of his door was turning and he bit back a groan. “That’s— my roommate,” he explained, “he’s harmless but— there’s no excuse for him, I’m so sorry.”

She raised her eyebrows, confused, before the door swung open. Gleb Vaganov had moved in about a year ago— there was no way Dmitry could afford the place without him— and could not have been stranger. He walked in without so much as a glance up from his phone. He literally walked between Dmitry and Anastasia, opening the fridge, like he didn’t notice either of them. 

“I think the lady next door has stolen my package again,” he finally said, opening a bottle of kombucha. 

Dmitry rolled his eyes. “Did you remember to check the tracking info?”

“Yes, it says it arrived this morning.”

“Sometimes they’re wrong. Or they dropped it off at the other neighbor’s again.”

“Hmm.” Gleb’s frown deepened, and he literally had to step around Anastasia to go back outside. Her smile was widening. Like she was biting back a laugh. The feeling was contagious. 

“He seems nice,” she said. 

Dmitry scratched the back of his neck. “He at least keeps things clean.”

“Important.”

“Right.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, unsure what to do now. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? I have tea, I think, and…” he opened the fridge. “The kombucha is off limits, I’m afraid, but we’ve got… uh, orange juice? Or leftover stroganoff if you’re hungry, or some peaches— no, those are rotten, actually— umm—”

“I’m really okay,” she insisted, her hand on his shoulder sending electricity through his body down to his toes. 

He met her eyes and shut the fridge. “You sure? I feel like I’ve been a complete jackass to you today.”

“Hmm,” she stepped closer. “Other than dumping your coffee on me,” she started, and he laughed, ducking his head, embarrassed, “you’ve been quite lovely.” 

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “You’ve been too. Lovely, I mean.” What was happening to him? Even as a teenager he didn’t bumble around this much. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

She tilted her head. “You as well.”

Still, she made no move to leave, and he made no move to show her the way out. A clock ticked. 

“If…” he searched for something to say, groping for a chance to keep her here, just a second more. “If you ever need a travel book again, you know where to go.”

She gave him a smile. “I appreciate it.”

For a moment neither said a word. And then Anastasia rose up on her toes to press her lips to his. 

He froze, eyes wide, gasping through his nose, completely surprised. It was quick, but his skin burned at the invisible mark she’d left, his cheeks undoubtedly red. When she dropped back down to her heels she was flushed too, perhaps just as surprised by her own actions as he was.

Well. 

He tried saying something cool and funny, like, Is this how you say goodbye to everyone you meet? But all that came out of his mouth was, “Uhhhhmm…” 

She took a wide step back, like stepping out of a trance. She tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “Thanks again, for the… Bathroom.” 

Somehow he found his voice. “Anytime.” He blinked. “See you around?”

She gave him an odd look, and then he remembered he would probably never see her again. “Have a nice life, Dmitry,” she said instead. And then let herself out. 

Dmitry didn’t know how long he stood there in the middle of his kitchen. A clock ticked. His fingers rose up to trace his bottom lip, feeling stupid and oh so giddy. 

Gleb came back in with a box. “It was on the wrong doorstep!” He stomped through the kitchen with a satisfied smile. “We really ought to repaint the number on our door, that may prevent this mistake from happening again…”

Dmitry, understandably, didn’t return the enthusiasm. 

He walked back to the shop in a daze, not even realizing his jacket fell in a limp pile on the floor when he tried to hang it on the wobbly rack. 

Vlad frowned from behind the register. “Hey, where’s the coffee?”

[gudvina]

The things I do to keep you near.

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Chapter 3: Reaping day (or trying for a child)

Can also be read on AO3!

74th Hunger Games, part one.

The potential tributes were lined up in rows taking up the Square, the stage was ready, and the Mayor was already making his speech, but Effie couldn’t stop looking at the empty seat beside her.

Being late really hadn’t been her plan. She scheduled everything to the last millisecond, but a hovercraft malfunction came up. When she arrived in Twelve she was told there wasn’t time for her to retrieve her Victor, Peacekeepers were going to deal with that, because she needed to greet the Mayor. She’d tried to reason with the Head Peacekeeper to no avail. It was too late.

She didn’t trust others with him. Very well acquainted with his nightmares, the idea of him drunk and terrified as armed men barged into his house made her nauseous. What if he, in a drunken episode, became violent? She knew how to behave in such cases; get far away from him, let him gain consciousness of his surroundings, and never touch him.  

But the Peacekeepers weren’t her. They wouldn’t know. They would arrest him, and she’d-

The Mayor finished his speech and suddenly Haymitch appeared, staggering onto the stage. He wobbled to the chair close to her, and the smell of liquor filled her nostrils. It was a terrible entrance, but better than him being arrested. She paled when his arms rose to hold her, almost knocking down her wig.

“This is very inappropriate, Haymitch” she muttered, escort smile still tight on her lips.

He mumbled something under his breath about marriage, but the Mayor called her name, and there was nothing she could do but walk up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour! Oh, I love this! It’s such an honour being here, on this fine day.” she beamed at the crowd and met grey faces everywhere. Admittedly, the clouds in the sky made her statement a little dishonest. It wasn’t a fine day.

The moment of the drawing came, and she sauntered to the bowls. She did this every year. She pulled a slip of paper and walked back to the podium, already opening the slip.  

“Oh, our first tribute has a beautiful name! Primrose Everdeen!”.

She meant it. It was a beautiful, delicate, sweet name, and when she saw a tiny girl come forth, her hair styled in two braids, wearing a dress too big for her, she thought it fit her. She was pretty. So, so pretty.

“Prim!” a voice bellowed from the crowds. It was one of the older girls, quickly making her way into the crowd to reach for Primrose. With a sweeping motion, she pushed the child behind her.

“I volunteer!” the girl repeated twice more.

A volunteer in District Twelve? It was unheard of, probably the first time in decades, and she looked at the Mayor. The man’s eyes were fixed on the scene in front of them, Haymitch was out of it, and she realized it would fall on her to answer.

“Lovely! But I believe there is a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” what was the procedure again? Why did nobody explain it to her?

“Why does it matter?... Why does it matter? Let her come forward” the Mayor’s expression was agonizing, and the urge to storm off was growing on her. This was why she was never late; everything went terribly when she did!

Her eyes fell on the Square again, and she saw small Primrose hold onto the older girl. She couldn’t hear what they said, and soon one of the boys ended up carrying the child away. The lady climbed up the stage, determined if a little stiff. Her hair was dark, her face angular, but what caught her attention were her grey eyes. They were a lighter shade than Haymitch’s, but resembled his enough that for a moment she was transfixed. As soon as she was on the podium, she snapped out of it.

Chin up!

The rest of Katniss’ introduction passed in a frenzy, the crowd raised their three fingers in a strange salute and Haymitch taunted the cameras, before falling off stage. He didn’t get up. Haymitch was unconscious and she couldn’t even check on him. The reaping couldn’t be stopped.

When the Peacekeepers took him away on a stretcher, she couldn’t wait to get over with it.

“What an exciting day!” she fixed her wig, still sporting her grin “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!”.

Effie marched back to the bowl trying to hold her wig in place, picked a slip of paper, and quickly retraced her steps. All she could think about was Haymitch on the floor, unconscious. It made her heart hurt worse than her face was.

“Peeta Mellark!”

From the crowd, a boy came forward. His hair was an ashy blonde colour, soft waves framing his forehead. His soft traits were tainted by a panicked expression he struggled to contain, and when he was close to the podium, she found herself touching his shoulder to guide him close to Katniss. He was very pretty and looked strong, and well-fed. Despite the disaster of a Reaping she had just presided, she thought that maybe this year Twelve might finally have a winner.

The Mayor finished his speech, and the Anthem finally ended, taking away with it her tributes.

“Well, Miss Trinket, I take you will move on to the train station?” asked the Mayor. It was polite small talk she would have usually indulged, but her nerves were frayed.

“No, I… do you have any idea where they took Mr Abernathy?”

“The clinic, I think”.

“How do I get there?”

“Well, it’s not too far. If you want, I can have my daughter walk you there”.

Not too far turned out to be, in fact, farther than she was comfortable to walk in her heels. Madge Undersee was nice company, though a bit reserved, but keeping a conversation was her forte so she managed. When they reached the clinic, she even kissed her goodbye Capitol-style, thanking her for the courtesy.

When inside everybody’s eyes were on her. She was received in a cold, stand-offish manner, and taken swiftly to Haymitch’s room. Twelve’s manners were atrocious, and if this had been another occasion, she would have reprimanded everyone in the hall. She didn’t have it in her, though. Her thoughts were filled with an unconscious Haymitch being taken away by Peacekeepers.

When she entered he was awake and lying in a bed, clearly annoyed by his situation. Seeing him relieved her immediately, and when she felt the nurse leave her relief was replaced with anger.

“Do you realise what you did in front of all Panem?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

“Well hello, princess, where the fuck were you?! Weren’t you supposed to be here in the morning?”

“I have nothing to justify myself for, but for your information, we had a hovercraft malfunction that delayed my departure. When I was here it was already too late. I didn’t enjoy it any more than you did. In addition, I will not tolerate this language from you. We’ve not had a Reaping this bad since the 63rd edition!”

“Don’t get your wig in a twist, princess, it’s not like I was dying to have you here. You can go back where you came from.” he cut her off, sulking in his bed.

She sighed and sat on the visitor’s chair. The room was small, the paint was faded or in certain areas even cracked. She let her anger steam away, and she could see him do the same. His head wasn’t bleeding. He seemed alright.

“I think this year we might have a chance” she offered.

“Told you to stop getting your hopes up years ago” his voice was softer, and she relaxed.

“I know, but I have a feeling-“

“Usually it takes you a day to get attached, can’t believe you’re already doing this. I’m not drunk enough”.

“Oh, no, you have been drunk enough already! Don’t you dare touch another drink, Panem knows how your body might react after your concussion”.

“Not a concussion, sweetheart”.

“Whatever it was, not under my watch, Haymitch Abernathy!”

“Did you come just to shrill in my ear?” he asked nonchalantly.

“No, we have to go to the train station at once, and I will personally make sure you are tucked into bed when we get there”. She felt her blood rush to her face and was thankful for the white powder on it, she sounded awfully domestic. His smirk didn’t help.

“See, Effie, now I like the sound of that”.

“Don’t you get funny ideas; you were drunk and unconscious just thirty minutes ago and I’m still angry. I will not have sex with you”.

“That’s what you always say” he smirked, getting up with her help. Maybe she always said that, but this time she meant it.

“Only not to us” the boy lashed at his drink, flinging it on the floor where it shattered, wasting perfectly good liquor. His name was Peeta, or so he thought. Peeta stared at him with a stern look, and the girl beside him, Katniss?, was mirroring him.

He’d told them to stay alive and laughed, not expecting them to retaliate. But retaliate they did.

He’d needed that drink. It was the day after the Reaping and Effie was still avoiding him like the plague. Angry at his drunken acts and worried for his health she left him to the boy’s care. It brought him back to the 70th edition when she’d disappeared. He’d even tried to sneak into her bed, but she thought he was hoping for some action, so she kicked him out.

He needed her. What wife kicked her husband out when sick, anyway? Was this a Capitol thing?

Haymitch took a good look at the two in front of him and decided the best course of action was to remind them who he was. A drunkard? Maybe. But a Victor still.

He punched the boy’s jaw, knocking him from his chair, and turned to reach for another bottle. The girl took the occasion to drive her knife between his hands and the bottle, lodging it successfully in the mahogany table. Effie’s words made their way back into his mind. This was the first time any of the tributes showed anything more than a meagre will to survive, and maybe he could work with them. Maybe.

“Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?” he snorted, and saw the boy pick himself up from the floor.

Despite his usual reticence, he found himself assessing the kids. A minute later, in an uncharacteristic bout of hopefulness, he decided to promise them his help. All they had to do was not interfere with his drinking, and he’d stay sober enough to do what he could for them.

When the kids left the car he stayed there, musing. The boy was good-looking and charismatic but didn’t have the fire in him. The girl, instead, looked ready to fight. He could already spin a narrative, there, but decided against any more thinking. He got up and walked through the carts.

He knocked at her door, like he’d done a thousand times before, and heard some shuffling behind it before it opened. She was still in her pink satin gown, the one that stopped at her thighs, and her face was slightly flushed, if a little irritated.

“What is it, Haymitch?” she asked, only opening the door enough for her to peek at him.

“I promised the children I’ll stay sober to help them, maybe you weren’t wrong”.

“Told you so! And good for you, now go back to your compartment” she moved to close the door, but he put his foot down to stop her, a smug smirk on his face.

“You know, sweetheart, I am not drunk, I don’t have a concussion, and I’m sure I can do much better than your fingers, here” he pushed the panel open and made his way into the compartment, sitting on her bed. The sheets exuded her smell, and he was tempted to lean down to smell them.

Effe sighed and finally closed the door, turning towards him. Her golden, shoulder-length hair framed her face, accentuating the blue of her eyes, and her lips were pursed in worry. She was scanning him for any sign of ill health, but he was as well as ever and she seemed convinced.

She walked towards him and moved to sit on his lap, her legs falling on either side of his waist. He sighed and inhaled her scent, while her hands smoothed his hair, humming softly. It was a washed-out blonde colour, and she loved its length. Men in the Capitol wore wigs, and she’d never seen anyone’s real hair before Haymitch. Not even her own father’s. It felt different.

“I truly think this year we might have a winner” she whispered with her usual sing-song tone, softly pushing a few strands away from his face.

“I don’t know, but this is the first time I’m sure they might survive the bloodbath, and that’s… new”.

“New is good. Will you truly drink less?”

“I mean, it’s either that or a bunch of kids will try to kill me, and your fingers will melt off, so I gotta do something!” he smirked and heard her gasp. He earned a slap on his arm, but otherwise, she didn’t try to deny what she was doing.

“Well, you were sick, what was I supposed to do?” she pouted, softly grinding on him. The little minx.

“You know damn well I wasn’t sick” he grumbled, but the way she looked at him told him she wasn’t convinced.

“Sure, but I am not going to do this until we get to the penthouse. I don’t trust the children not to wander around”.

Haymitch sighed. He knew she was right. Peeta and Katniss seemed bent on sneaking around. Her usage of the word children worried him, it was something she used to do when she got attached; for some reason this year it started right after the Reaping, and he didn’t know how far she might take it.

“I’m already here, now, am I not?” he tried, his hand trailing up the hem of her skirt, hoping she’d relent.

“I said not until the penthouse, Haymitch” her voice was breathy, he could see her fight his pull, and it took all his restraint not to flip her on the bed and have his way with her.

“God, you’ll be the death of me”.

“Try not to die, I am willing to wait another few hours, not more than that. Anyways this year we also get a new pair of stylists!” she lit up, dispersing some of the tension between them.

“Yeah? No more Chip and Chop? What do we get this year?”

“Oh, you’re going to like them. Cinna and Portia are quite the novelty, you’ll see”.

“The only thing I want to see now is your naked ass, sweetheart”.

“Haymitch!” she reprimanded him, but laughed heartily and he delighted in the sound. It did things, to him, her laugh. It was a sound he heard rarely, and when he did it ripped a piece of him in smithereens and rebuilt it, making it new.

He smirked and let his hand wander over her body, noticing the way her breath quickened. It would have taken him very little to work her up and make her forget her resolve, but he saw her point, so he stopped at a little groping here and there. He could wait until they’d get to the penthouse.

And if he kissed her again, he figured he could not be blamed. She was his wife, after all.

[columbocorners]

Spoliers for episode 6

Spoliers for episode 6

Spoliers for episode 6

Spoliers for episode 6

What do you think of the counsellor? Have your opinions on him changed?

He is such an interesting character. I love him, but I hate him. I loathe him. He is terrible, despicable, but I can recognize his actions were out of grief and trauma.

“Please, I need to see my Sissy again.”

“I was only a boy”

“Do not go without me”

“Not again”

“She abandoned me, she wanted to get away from me. No, sissy did you abandoned me too? No, of course not, you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have! How could you leave your little brother behind? No, no, you wouldn’t have.”

That’s a very common theme in the series, how the adults constantly hurt the kids around them. Then how these kids grow up and hurt the kids, repeating the same cycles of their predecessors. I feel terrible for Noone, she was yet another victim in that terrible cycle, in that terrible world.

And this is super, super unlikely and I know many will disagree with me and I may be completely wrong, but I still think there’s still this very small possibility that The Counsellor may be Mono.

Noone: A yellow raincoat.

The Counsellor: Yellow? Was anyone around?

Interesting how the Yellow raincoat immediately picked his attention. Who was his sister, RCG? One of the ladies? Six? Someone we haven’t encountered yet? Who knows.

In the end I liked how they left the ending open (where did Noone go? Will we ever see her again?) and The counsellor’s identity ambiguous.

I hope you know I had so many thoughts I needed to make a document /lh /gen

but here you go !! I hope this is something people can understand because I'm working on a fast pace with my writing at the moment so some typos or grammar errors, and any clarification, you can give me a soft lil' ask on it ! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1M41vWw3GWgsVhK2PEMDSrZss9rjhieDjEbHozyhhYgM/edit?usp=sharing

[spectralquartzafterdark]

👀👀 okay that was Jules??? Holy scrap im excited!! Now Rosie whatcha got cooking?!

Sure, this one needs a smidgen of context though. My brother told me what the original ending was going to be for Bayverse Dark of the Moon and it's been on my mind a lot lately. Imagine that Megatron having to atone for his war crimes. And then getting stuck with a powderpuff of a mechanic (My self insert Rosie) 😂 Call it a midlife crisis. It's uh gotten out of hand so here's a chunk of it. Heck I don't even know if it'll get posted. Also, mention of Noah because I'm mushing continuities together!

Something in him hated this. It hated her kindness. And he hated her not because he was cruel, but because he was starting to understand why the bots trusted her. He hated that he felt an attachment forming. He hated that a thought of staying in this place crossed his mind. He hated that even with his records she never treated him as an enemy. He hated everything about her and this situation and yet the moment the others left he tried to keep her attention for awhile longer. He needed it.

“How… did you learn to repair Cybertronians?” he asked wanting to learn more about her despite the dark energy in his Spark screaming at him to leave it.

“Well, for the minor stuff I learned from Ratchet initially. Basic biology and terminology and the like. It’s very similar to things we have here so it wasn’t too terrible. Especially considering my father taught me to repair automotive vehicles.” Rosie said as she began to clean up the workshop so she could work on his right hydraulic tomorrow, “Then Noah taught me to sew bots back together. So, long as we can get parts from their chosen earth altmode it seems to be an easy task.”

“And reviving bots?” Megatron seemed almost cautious with this question as he carefully sat back down on the concrete floor of the hangar.

“As Jazz said, it was an accident.” she chuckled, “When he was brought to us his Spark was in one piece, just dormant. And one day while Noah and I were stitching him together I had a brilliant idea. What if your Sparks needed the same electrical pulses it took to revive our hearts? And well, I took my taser and just shoved it to the Sparks case holding and there he was. Dazed and confused, but alive. It wasn’t planned just a stroke of luck.”

“A risk… one that worked out in your favor. Interesting…” he said watching as she hopped onto a lift to get to his level.

“Mmhmm. And besides, he was thought to be dead. So, if it failed it wouldn’t matter. It was worth the risk.” she explained coming to level with his optics, “I can also repair aesthetic injuries like your helm with steel. So, long as I treat it like a transplant your energon, blood… or well the equivalent seems to grow over it and make it apart of you. Jazz? That panel on his abdomen that you tore in two? That is a steel replacement I did.”

Megatron recoiled at the mention of the war crime he had committed. Not only had she definitely been told about his past, but it was absolutely eerie how she spoke about it so calmly. But, beneath that was relief. She didn’t seem to judge him for his poor decisions made from being power hungry and filled with a rage that he still fought with despite the truce.

“I see why Sam trusts your work.” He said.

“I wouldn’t say that exactly, I think he trusts Noah more than me. But, only because he’s been doing it longer. Mirage isn’t going to believe me when I tell him I got to help repair you.” she snorted leaning on the rail, “Listen, I am highly aware of the circumstances between you and the other bots. But, I’m also highly aware of how and why it happened.”

“Then why are you helping me?” his voice was low as if he was a dog ready to bite.

“Sometimes, kindness is enough.” She responded.

Something inside of him clicked. Though he couldn’t quite place what it was. He watched as she lowered the lift. He gritted his dentae as his mind whirred with what that meant. Kindness was still a concept he had issues with. He couldn’t fully grasp it. Yet. So, he decided to leave it. It was a sentiment he could live with.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” she said, “If the others give you trouble let me know.”

With that she left and all he could do is sit and stare into the wall in front of him. He didn’t even notice the others coming in. He was ruminating about what was said. What it meant. Why would anyone give him kindness? He was aware of what he did and clearly this human was to. So, why? Enough? What was that supposed to mean?

[creppersfunpalooza]

hi can u tell me more about Koi and ur ocs i think they’re really cool !!

yeah absolutely!! now that u have background knowledge i can tell you more about his backstory.

Koi is not a human. he thought he was, as did most people around him. the only people who really knew was his mom (Clarissa Riverson), his dad (Samuel Riverson, he’s dead now but we’ll get into that later), a private medical staff (to be fair they never knew much about it, they just knew he definitely wasn’t normal), and the D.A. later on. also Astir Bettencourt (i’ll talk abt him some other time if someone asks) but that was his own personal conspiracy theory and he told himself that there was no way that was even plausible (it was!)

koi’s actually a dreamwalker (don’t know if i’ll keep the name, but that’s what it’s been for years so), which is basically a shapeshifting being able to see into and alter the dreams and thoughts of others. in the beta version they could also take over someone’s body and possess it (with the drawback being that their natural form would be asleep while doing this), but i don’t know if i’ll keep that. if i do, it’ll only be for much more experienced ones. Dreamwalkers come from the Void and have very specific and strict customs and practices and have a very spiritual culture, considering themselves descended directly from their gods. Among one of these customs is letting their young develop their own forms free from anything else’s influence by keeping them in isolation for a number of years until they’re fully developed. somewhere along the timeline there was a massive doomsday event which lead to a mass extinction or something i don’t know the dreamwalkers have had a ton of rewrites i kind of lost track of what exactly happened. i need to rewrite them again too so a lot of this is bound to change. but yeah, most of them are dead. somehow koi’s bio. parents managed to like toss him out of the dimension or something seriously i don’t know i need to rewrite stuff desperately but i’m doing things in chunks and that’s not what i’m worried abt rn.

so yeah, koi’s form original is basically an amalgamation of random things he saw as a tiny guy, resulting in a primarily humanoid form. this has some interesting results though when you take into account that these were mainly just outside appearances with makeup and such, not to mention the fact that there were no internal organs that made sense with the regular human’s anatomy because, well, he didn’t ever see anything like that.

Along comes Clarissa, a wealthy businesswoman/CEO of a quickly growing tech company. She sees a random kiddo who seems to look less human the more she looks at it? that’s her son now. yeah no questions asked. that’s clarissa for you. she doesn’t question the strange or abnormal and welcomes it with open arms. For his own safety, she raised him as a normal kid and put in an effort to help keep his form consistent enough that it wouldn’t be questioned. before she knew for sure that he was, well, abnormal, he still had normal public healthcare. this turned out to be a terrible idea. fortunately, most people are very susceptible to hush money!

Koi’s dad, Samuel, was a pretty generic guy. i don’t know how else to describe him. Koi didn’t ever know him that well, but he worked with Clarissa under her company. One night during a fundraiser she was hosting, he had to leave early for whatever reason. He didn’t return home. A few days later, his car and body was found in the woods, heavily damaged. Many of the wounds he suffered didn’t quite make sense, but nothing came of it during investigation. After that, Clarissa became much more protective of Koi. She never really had him in the public eye to begin with, but after that, she was even more careful about it. In the following years after her husband’s death, she gave him a lot of attention. Unfortunately, work picked up again and she was forced to focus more on her career than him, pretty much removing her from his life with the exception of a few occasional visits and check ins.

Koi grew up pretty lonely. his personality was considered overwhelming to a lot of people and he had a tendency to ramble about stuff nobody seemed to ever care about. He did, however, manage to make one notable friend. Juniper. Juniper’s mainly rewritten already so most of this is up to date. She also struggled a lot with making friends and had very overbearing parents who barley even let her leave the house other than for school. The two quickly became inseparable and started dating in their freshman year of high school. In their junior year (maybe sophomore, haven’t decided yet), Juniper became friends with a girl named Eshima, who quickly joined their little friend group. Eshima’s got her own silly plot line and had a major crush on Juniper in high school, but that fizzled out over time (mostly!). Koi barely graduated, considering the fact that he struggled to ever pay attention or understand what was being taught and even ditched class pretty often. Juniper on the other hand was kind of known to be a straight A student due to a lot of academic pressure from her parents. She helped him a bit (a lot). Juniper was looking yo go to a college for astrophysics and managed to get a pretty good scholarship, Eshima attended law school because her dad wanted her to (but dropped out after a few years, which stirred up a bit of family drama), and Koi… Well, considering everything, it was obvious he wouldn’t get a scholarship or anything. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even get accepted into a college.

until that letter showed up. it advertised a new experience, one that would be far more interactive and still provide a proper education. it sounded perfect.

you know what happens from there! ish.

anyways here’s some general facts about him!!

- he was 17 when he graduated and just about 18 when he joined the D.A.

- clarissa used to take him literally everywhere with her. like he was not allowed to leave her side.

- he really likes the super sugary smoothies and energy drinks. he just has a major sweet tooth in general

- He was ~22 when he got out of the D.A. and is 23-24 in present time (this may change)

- I don’t know how this works considering species but he may have ADHD and obviously CPTSD

- He’s pansexual

- technically, he doesn’t have a gender assigned from birth. whether that makes him trans or not is up for interpretation imo because dreamwalkers don’t really have genders. bliss just goes by she/her because it works better for communication but she’s agender

- While he’s not polyam himself, he’s alright with open relationships

- He’s a big sci-fi nerd and before the D.A. was absolutely obsessed with Star Wars and Star Trek too. i like to think that he and Juniper would just hang out and watch stuff together. He’d reference it to no end. He also probably collected dvds and such.

- Due to the burn marks on his arms, he always either wears arm warmers, thick bracelets, or long sleeved shirts and hoodies.

- In beta, he had a much more feminine fashion style. i decided it doesn’t fit his character though. i mainly just did it because it was easiest for royale high which is where i used him a lot LOL

- His canonical friends include Kate (somehow. i don’t know how yet. in fact there’s no reason they should be friends.), Ophelia (surprisingly), Eshima (it’s a bit complicated. eshima thinks he just cut them off completely and he’s not ready to tell her what happened yet.), and That One Guy Who I’m Not Sure If I Should Re-name Or Not Because Of Silly Stuff

if u want me to go into depth for any other characters just lmk i love talking about these silly guys

[rxdhairxdsirxns]

DIVINITY'S FAVOR || drabble for: @kaiju-crimson-storyandask and @general-kalani

----- THE line was very blurry between being a divine’s favorite and being their most hated, and the line was growing ever more blurry the longer Taryn’s torture endured.

Kissing had now become something much more intimate, with both divinities finally having revealed themselves to the woman only to do this to her. Chaos has easily swooped in behind the redhead, scooping her up with inhuman strength, her back against their chest, and legs held wide by the backs of her knees. Voice had taken place before the woman, grinning terribly and simply snapping their fingers to remove every inch of the woman’s clothing before dropping to the floor before her. It seemed it was their time to worship on their knees.

Voice wasted no time in diving in for the warm, syrupy center that was the prize of Taryn, their hands pressed to her thighs as they indulged with long, languid swipes of their tongue and satisfied little sounds that drew pleasured shivers down Taryn’s spine. Chaos watched from over her shoulder, rumbling and crooning to her in that deep voice that made her feel like she was sucking down molasses. Her legs trembled, unconsciously trying to quick out a leg and yelp each time Voice’s nose brushed against her poor, swollen pearl.

Something told her that their two could have gone on like this for as long as they pleased, perhaps even switching positions without having to do more than snap their fingers, maybe just leaving her as is to the mercy of Voice’s mouth. Yet, it seemed they had other plans in mind as the warmth of Voice’s hungry mouth withdrew as the being stood fully before Taryn, Chaos still holding her wide open. Instead of their mouth, now greedy fingers dove into Taryn’s core, curling and scissoring her open until she keened and begged and nearly shed tears at how desperately she needed release.

Her head fell back against the cool shoulder of the embodiment of Chaos, not at all noting the look exchanged between the pair before she was gasping out loud at a new sensation. Betwixt her thighs, two throbbing cocks now stood at prominent attention, pressed hotly against her inner thigh and quivering cunt.

“Oh, yes… please. I want both of you. I can take it.”

She couldn’t imagine making one of them wait and watch the other fuck her. She wouldn’t dare. She desired both beings and had earned their attention, and she wanted to pay that back in full. Reaching between her legs, she whimpered softly as she helped the pair adjust themselves to line up against her, finally pushing in when she nodded in confirmation.

Oh, the delight. The burning, aching pleasure of being so full. Moans and groans were drawn from each of the trio, even more so when one finally began to move, spurring on the other to move in rhythm. Delicious, unrivaled fullness and friction rendered Taryn to a keening, trembling mess in Chaos’s hold, her face flushed down to her neck and her hands scrabbling to feel and caress both godlike beings in equal. But her mind was so scrambled, so overwhelmed with pleasure it was hard to focus, and soon enough she was falling over the precipice, thighs quaking and her stomach full of iron butterflies as she squirted on Voice’s torso. The sight only drew delighted grins from both figures, who took it upon themselves to go about fucking their treasure even more thoroughly.

It seemed she would be done when they said she was done.

[cepetriwrites]

Into the Storm - Chapter 13 - Helaena III

Read on AO3

Helaena always found her sister Rhaenyra and brother-in-law Laenor more attentive to her than her own parents. As a young child she hopes to marry Jace in order to join gain them as parents. As she grows older she realizes a dark truth, there is a storm coming. With two rising factions threatening to tear apart her family and homeland, she comes up with a solution that can ensure everyone's survival. A marriage between her and Jace, but is such a union even possible with her grandfather's power grab and mother's hatred?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helaena felt responsible for the funeral. She had prayed to the gods to be reunited with Laenor again, and she was about to get her wish, at his beloved sister’s funeral. She did not sail on the ship with her mother, but rode on dragonback. Dreamfyre had a habit of following Helaena wherever she traveled far, she did not need to fight with her mother much on the issue. Her mind was a storm of guilt-ridden thoughts. This was a somber moment, someone was dead, yet she was so elated to be seeing her brother-in-law and nephews again. I must be a terrible person, she thought somberly to herself.

She had no memories of Laena, she had been on an extended honeymoon with her uncle Daemon for most of Helaena’s life. Her mother was not thrilled to be near him. She had heard some stories of the black sheep of the family growing up. She did not know much, he had been dismissed from court by her father at least twice. Helaena did not know everything he had done, she heard he was skilled in battle, war hungry, her mother called him. The Queen had ordered her to keep her distance, “He has a tendency for nieces.” Another statement she refused to elaborate, lanced with bitterness. She wanted desperately to ask Rhaenyra want that meant, but she suspected she would not receive an answer. Helaena wondered how old you had to be before the adults deemed you worthy of the truth.

“This is the perfect time for a fight,” Aegon whispered conspiratorially before the ceremony began.

Helaena faced him with wide eyes, “Aegon no! This is a funeral!”

“Exactly, it breaks social decorum, it’d be like killing someone at a wedding. Think how easier it will be to prevent our betrothal.”

“I am not doing this to Laenor Aegon,” she hissed back with a rare venom.

Her brother rolled his eyes, “Of course, you can’t hurt your chances to marry your precious Jace. Tell me, what about the idea of being bedded by a fumbling virgin excites you so?” Helaena balled up her fist so tight she feared her nails were cutting into her palm. Was Aegon being his usual tactless self, or trying to goad her into a fight? It was hard to tell now. “I pity you, the only man you’re allowed to bed, and he won’t know how to please you.”

Helaena looked at the goblet he was holding, “What are you drinking?”

He didn’t answer her, instead placing a hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry dear sister, I’ll look after you, I’ll take him on a stroll down silk street before you’re wed. Make sure he gets his wick wet.”

Helaena felt her ears grow hot, Aegon never knew when to stop, he found himself too amusing.  If he was not a prince he would’ve been in half a dozen fights by now, at least. She wanted so badly to punch him, she nearly forgot herself, until they were interrupted by Aemond. “Aegon do you ever take a break from bothering her?”

“I’m not bothering her Aemond, I’m trying to offer some… assistance.”

Her face was getting too hot, “I am going to stand with mother, try to behave yourself.” She directed to Aegon.

She was glad for her time spent with the dragon keepers, the funeral eulogy was being given in High Valyrian by Ser Vaemond Velaryon, Laena’s uncle.  While she was not very familiar with funerals, she thought everything was very traditional, until he began to talk about blood. It’s strength, it’s purity… how it wouldn’t be diluted. She glanced at Rhaenyra, holding her two oldest boys close, keeping a still face while Vaemond continued. Helaena tried not to react, she focused on staring at Laena’s coffin. Wasn’t this disrespectful? To be insulting the parentage of one at another’s funeral? Helaena wondered how long he would go on, until Daemon started… giggling, as he walked away, stopping Ser Vaemond’s. She had not expected that from her somber, stern-looking uncle.

The reception after the wake was tense and irritating, she had thought to approach Prince Daemon to offer proper condolences. A stare from his cold violet eyes made her think better of it and she retreated. Was he like this with Rhaenyra as a child? No wonder she never talked about him. Her brother, on what was easily his second drink mocking her when she inspected a spider. And even though she spoke, she could hear him call her stupid and weird, a part of the act, she told herself, while Aemond remarked how he wished mother had betrothed them. Helaena had never considered Aemond for a husband, she supposed he was not a bad choice, they got along well enough. But he would never be an option for her, not because she loved Jace, but because he had what she wanted more than anything in the world.

She searched the gathered mourners for Laenor, she saw Rhaenyra mingling with mourners, Luke was playing with figurines, Jace was standing with the twins. Rhaena, or Baela was holding his hand. Helaena felt a pang of jealously, not from romantic want, but because she could not imagine her own brothers sharing such a moment with their nephews.  

Helaena was not sure where to go or who to talk to, why did she feel like such a stranger amongst her own people and family? She had seen Laenor leave the balcony, he had not returned, Helaena decided to follow where he went. She had not had the time to speak to him since arrival.

Laenor stood chest deep, swaying in the sea, clutching a waterskin in hand. Helaena knew it contained anything but water. She stepped into the sea, soaking her dress as she walked out to him. The waves were splashing against her chest. She had to plant her feet to avoid being pushed down, grateful the undertow was not strong. Her mother would not be happy with her, “Brother Laenor?” 

He did not acknowledge her, his eyes fixed ahead, staring into the distance.  His eyes were reddened, she did not know how long he had cried for. She had never felt awkward talking to Laenor before, now she found herself speechless. What could she possibly say? “Let’s go back to dry land,” she said, “I don’t want you to catch a cold.” She placed a hand on his arm and tried to guide him back to shore, Laenor did not budge.

“I should have been there,” he said, bringing the skin to his lips and taking a long swig. Helaena cringed, between Aegon and Laenor, she was not sure who would be drunker at the end of the night.

“Perhaps you’ve had enough,” she reached to take the waterskin from him, Laenor jerked it away from her hand. Helaena shrank back, she had never seen Laenor like this, she felt so out of her depth. He was always jovial, warm, kind, nothing like the somber, prickly man that was attempting to drown himself in wine.

“I was off, jousting, partying, while my sister was dying…” He took another drink, Helaena nervously twisted the skirt of her dress. Laenor shouldn’t keep drinking, he shouldn’t be standing in the water with the tide coming in and dark clouds forming. She looked back at the terrace, wondering no one was leering at Laenor in his grief. She saw Lord Corlys, the Sea Snake, Laenor’s father, staring down at them. He did not look pleased. She knew Laenor wasn’t behaving with composure, but he had just lost his sister. Though he had told her his father was a disciplined and rigid man.

Helaena could not think of anything left to do except to wrap her arms around his waist in a tight hug and say, “I’m sorry your sister died.” He put an arm around her and patted her shoulder a few times in response.  If he insisted on standing in the ocean, she supposed all she could do was be here with him. “What was she like?”

“Spirited,” Laenor said, after a pause, “and determined, if she wanted something, no one would stop her. She claimed Vhagar when she was barely thirteen. The largest dragon in Westeros and when she found where she was nesting she snuck off to find the she-dragon. She came riding back on her, nearly killed our septa in shock.” He smiled at the memory of his departed sister, slightly laughing, still staring out into the sea. Helaena felt some relief, at being able to make him remember a happy moment. He gave her shoulder a squeeze, “She was fearless.”

“Why did she marry Daemon? He seems so…” She trailed off, not sure how to describe him.

“She liked a challenge,” Laenor said.

“Why did Daemon marry her?”

“He also liked a challenge,” Laenor said almost wistfully, this was the first nice thing she had heard said about Daemon this week. “She was betrothed when she met Daemon, to some son of a Sealord of Braavos. When the Sealord died he squandered his father’s fortune. Father could not find a way to end the betrothal so he kept on delaying. Daemon danced with Laena once and then goaded him into a duel and killed him. They were wed shortly after.” He told the story with such amusement, Helaena was not sure where the humor was, but he was behaving more like himself.

She patted him on the back. “Tell me more about her.”

“She loved to dance, you should have seen her on Vhagar, they were so connected, like you and Dreamfyre. She was kind, and clever, and fearless, you remind me of her.”

Helaena looked up shocked, “Why? I’m not brave or smart.”

“That’s not true Helaena, you may not always be in the moment, but you’re cleverer than you think.”

“Mother says I don’t understand how the world works, or the court.”

“You’re just kind, it’s not a flaw, you just need to learn who deserves it.”

It was Helaena’s turn to stare out at the sea, “I wish the gods had made me brave.”

“Bravery isn’t something you’re born with or without, it’s something you chose to be. It’s never too late to become brave.”

Helaena took a deep breath, maybe Laenor could help her with her nerves about standing up to her family. Even if he couldn’t, she was tired of keeping everything inside. “Laenor-” A wave came and went, the current pulled back, her legs that had been sinking into the sand, now buckled and her face hit the water. She popped back up spitting out the salty water. 

“Helaena! Are you alright?” She spit out more water, “Let’s get on dry land.” Helaena nodded.

Her skirts were now heavy and wet, clinging to her legs, making walking difficult. Even worse was the drunk Laenor leaning on her, her small body was not well equipped for the job of supporting a stumbling adult. She made it up the sand, to the stairs, which was worse than the unsteady ground. “I’ve got you Helaena,” Laenor said, slurring slightly. 

“Thank you, good brother,” Helaena said, pulling him up the stairs.

“Princess, Ser Laenor, may I be of assistance?” Ser Qarl, the close friend of Laenor, was on the steps. 

“I’m fine Qarl,” Laenor said, while Helaena emphatically nodded at Qarl. The knight slipped his arm around Laenor’s waist and took the weight off of Helaena.

He offered his cloak to Helaena, “So you don’t catch a chill, Princess.” Helaena wrapped the too big cloak around her body.

“Thank you, Ser Qarl,” she put Laenor’s arm around her shoulder and managed to get his waterskin, holding it under her cloak. She shared a look with Qarl, united in the goal to keep drink away from Laenor, and to get him up the stairs. 

She feared Corlys and Laenor were going to come to blows when they reached the terrace, before Vaemond stepped in. Crisis averted, until her mother approached her. “You are soaked.” She said, pulling her close.

Helaena pulled the cloak tighter, “I was helping Laenor.”

“Just because he is conducting himself without decorum, does not mean you do.”

Helaena was taken aback, “His sister is dead Mother, we should have more sympathy for him.”

Alicent sighed, “Go get cleaned up.” Helaena retreated to her quarters, grateful her mother did not continue to chastise her.

~*~*~*~

Helaena shed her soaked clothing and changed into a simple dress before deciding to check on Laenor. She found him flopped in his bed, miraculously in dry clothes. “Laenor? Are you awake?”

“Mhmm.”

Helaena pulled up a chair next to his bed, “My mother is going to announce my betrothal to Aegon. We have a plan to try and stop it, but now that Otto is the Hand. They’re more determined than ever. Sometimes I feel like there are chains weighing me down, dragging me under water.” She looked at her nails, she picked at them when she was nervous. “I’ve never stood up to my mother, I have a plan, but… I doubt myself.  I… you said I remind you of Laena. Do you really think I could be brave like her? She took her fate in her own hands, do you think I could do it too?” Laenor said nothing, she looked up confused, and then saw his eyes were closed and his breathing had slowed, he was snoring slightly. Helaena sighed, she would not be talking with him further tonight.

She leaned back in her chair, listening to the fire crackle. What should she do next? Helaena had wanted to be there for Laenor, but he would need no further comfort tonight. A door opened, Ser Qarl entered carrying a pitcher, “He is asleep,” Helaena said to the knight. He nodded, placing the pitcher on the nightstand.

“I brought a drink for when he wakes, he is going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow.” Helaena was not a total stranger to Qarl, he was a close companion of Laenor, but she felt a new closeness to him, as they took care of Laenor in his moment of need.

“You’re a good friend, Ser Qarl.”

“I can take care of him for the rest of the night, you are too young to be taking care of an old man.”

Helaena laughed softly, “He would not appreciate that.”

Ser Qarl whispered conspiratorially, “He can not hear me.” Helaena smiled at him, “You should go, spend time with others your age.”

She looked at Laenor’s sleeping form, “I don’t fit in with anyone else, the way I do with Laenor. I probably should not be saying this.” Indeed she shouldn’t, much less a lowly knight.

“I understand,” Ser Qarl replied with a warm look in his eyes, and something else Helaena was too young or too unready to acknowledge.

“Most of the mourners are my own family, or people of my station, yet I feel so alone. I’m… odd, I… thought I found my place with Laenor and my nephews but now they’re gone and I feel…”

“Lost?” Ser Qarl finished.

Helaena nodded, “Have you ever felt this way Ser Qarl?”

“Most of my life,” He admitted, it surprised Helaena, he was a good knight, friendly, not unattractive, yet he felt like an outsider too.

“How do you handle the loneliness?”

“It is hard, but the good news is, young princess, loneliness is not forever. Once you live long enough, you’ll find there are others who are different like you. There are people who will see you, and draw you tighter. No one is ever as alone as they think.” 

Helaena wished she had had more time to spend with Ser Qarl when he still resided in King’s Landing. He had a reassuring presence about him she had never discovered before. The young princess gave Laenor’s hand a final squeeze, “Thank you for your help Ser Qarl.” He nodded at the princess and she took her leave of Laenor’s chambers. She leaned against the door wondering where to go, were her nephews still on the terrace? Perhaps she should offer condolences to Laena’s daughters. Hopefully they were friendlier than their father.

She felt something tug at her skirt, looking down, she saw a familiar spiny triangular head staring up at her. “Tessa!” She picked up the spiny lizard and gave her chin a scratch. She had missed the little dragon, upon inspection, she found a ribbon wound around her neck with a scrap of parchment attached. Placing Tessa on her shoulder, Helaena unfurled the note, she recognized Jace’s handwriting.

“Hi Helaena, Luke bet Rhaena and Baela that Tessa could find you. We’re in the sitting room if you want to join us.”

Helaena looked at Tessa, “Do you think you could lead me there girl?” Tessa bobbed her head up and down and once Helaena put her down, went off scampering with the princess trailing her. The lizard led her through hallways and up some stairs, ducking into her skirts if she heard another person approaching, until they were outside the door of, what she presumed to be, the sitting room attached to the bedchambers Rhaena and Baela were staying in. 

Luke answered the door when she knocked, his face lighting up when he realized it was his aunt. “Helaena! Tessa found you!” He wrapped her in a tight hug, she had missed her little nephew. Jace gave her a hug as well, “How is father doing?” 

She gave his shoulder a squeeze, “He’s grieving, he’s sleeping in his chamber, it’s been a tiring day for him.” 

“Rhaena, Baela, this is our aunt Helaena,” Luke said, introducing her to the somber twins. They were sat around a table, Luke’s figurines, and Tessa’s cage laid out. She guessed Luke and Jace had been trying to cheer up the girls with Tessa. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Everyone is,” The girl Helaena thought was Rhaena muttered in High Valyrian.

Helaena sat down at the table, not sure how to respond, deciding to try another topic. She put Tessa down on the table, “Did the boys introduce you to Tessa?”

“She’s very sweet, Luke said you bought her in the market.” The other one, Baela, said, reaching out to stroke her head.

“Mhm, we took turns smuggling her between our rooms when they lived in King’s Landing.”

“How did you get Tessa from the market without anyone noticing?” Baela continued.

“We snuck out,” Helaena said in High Valyrian.

Rhaena’s eyes lit up, looking at Helaena, “You snuck out of the castle?” She responded in High Valyrian, “How did you not get caught?”

“I learned the guards’ and servants’ habits, but there was always a risk.” Helaena replied, not willing to give away the hidden passageways. Rhaena looked impressed, Helaena imagined if the twins had lived in King’s Landing, Rhaena would’ve loved joining Helaena during her nighttime adventures.

Helaena continued to entertain the twins with descriptions of the different crawling creatures she had as pets. Baela seemed to be the shyer one of the twins, though they remained mostly somber, still grieving. When the candles started to dim and septas started hunting down their charges, the princess knew it was time for her to retire. The castle was darker than it should be for the time of day, Helaena wondered when the storm would reach them. As she settled into bed, she felt a tinge of regret it had not reached Driftmark sooner, she liked the sound of raindrops outside her window while falling asleep.

A pain in her stomach woke her up, Helaena had not eaten much at the funeral. She rubbed her eyes and looked out the window, wondering what time it was. Outdoors she saw a giant shadow moving through the sky before it disappeared into the ground. It moved like a dragon, but none of their dragons were even close to the size of the figure she saw.  It had to be the mythic Vhagar, but what was she doing flying before a storm? She was riderless, she could be flying on her own, but Vhagar had been wild before Laena had claimed her. If she took off in the night, wouldn’t she just revert back to a solitary life instead of returning? Had Baela claimed her mother’s dragon? Why at night?

Helaena’s heart beat fast as slipped on a robe and slippers, taking a candle with to guide her way to the dragonpit she saw Vhagar land near. She descended down the steps, still trying to shrug off sleep, when she started to the sounds of shouting ecchoing towards her. Sprinting down the last few steps she found all the younger Targaryens in the midst of a fight. 

Aemond was pinned by the twins and Jace, all trying to pummel him. Helaena was frozen in shock, what had happened? She had never seen her nephews and Aemond come to such savage blows. Before she could recover enough to help her brother he threw all three children off of him. His age handing him a saving advantage. She needed to say something, she was the oldest here. Aemond grabbed Luke by the neck before he could launch himself on his uncle.

Helaena started to breathe normal, hoping the fight would wind down now Aemond was on his feet, then he picked up a rock. “You will die screaming in flames, like your father! You bastard!” He declared, what was he doing?!

“My father lives!” Sobbed little Luke. 

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Aemond smirked at Jace, who had pulled out a dagger. What was he doing!

“Aemond! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Screamed Helaena, the threat of the rock and knife finally releasing her from her paralysis. She ran between the boys and shoved Aemond away, sending him stumbling back a few steps. “He’s a child!”

Helaena faced her family, “What are you all doing?” There was a silence, all of them looking degrees of guilty and anger, everyone spotting cuts and blooming bruises. “I want answers. NOW!” Everyone flinched, Helaena had never been this angry.

“He stole Vhagar! She was my mother’s dragon! She was mine to claim!” Baela finally started, throwing an accusing finger.

Helaena looked at Aemond, he wiped his mouth, “Then she should’ve claimed her like a real rider the first chance she got.”

“Her mother just died,” Helaena responded in a disgusted tone.

“Her loss,” Aemond muttered, Helaena grabbed onto his shoulder, hand shaking with rage, she wanted to hit him. She didn’t know what to do, she wanted to run from this conflict, but Laenor had said bravery was a choice. Now was a test.

Helaena let out a shaky breath, “Go to your chambers Aemond, we’ll discuss this in the morning.” Hopefully everyone’s hot heads would be cooler. “All of you, back to your chambers. I don’t want any more fights tonight.” 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Aemond whined, feeling empowered with his new mount.

Helaena yanked him forward with both her hands, “Go to your chambers, or I will show you what a real beating looks like.” She drew him closer, “Remember who’s older and taller boy.” She released her brother, confident he wouldn’t try anything.

She turned to Luke, fussing over his injuries, checking his neck for bruises. “Are you okay?” Luke nodded, he had a busted lip, she was grateful it wasn’t his skull. 

“You’re defending them?” Asked an incredulous Aemond.

Helaena sighed, “Go to your room, Aemond.”

“I’m your brother!” Aemond snapped.

Helaena turned to face her brother, “And he is OUR NEPHEW!” Helaena screamed back, “Who’s skull you tried to cave in, for what ?”

Aemond did not reply, only glowered at them, Luke sank into Helaena, and she slipped an arm around the little boy. “You’re supposed to strengthen our bloodline.” He finally said after more silence, Helaena rolled her eyes, not understanding why her betrothal was relevant in this moment. “But you’d rather throw it in the mud.”

Her face started heating up, now she understood, “Aemond, go. ” Anger started brewing inside her, one reserved for older siblings dealing with rebelling younger siblings.

“Bastard lover,” Aemond spit at her as he started to leave. 

Helaena finally snapped, letting go of Luke and found herself shoving Aemond, he stumbled, barely catching himself, “Take it back.” She was fed up, Aemond had nearly killed Luke and instead of remorse he was hurling insults. Her brother stubbornly refused to speak. She shoved him again, “Take it back or I’ll have Father cut your tongue out!” And with that, Aemond’s breaking point had been found as well, and he punched his sister. 

Helaena was stunned, only for a moment, before launching herself onto her brother, knocking him to the ground and letting her fists fly. She punched his face, once, twice, three times. More blood appeared with each hit. Aemond grabbed her hair with one hand, while trying to buck her off, but she was heavier. She ripped his hand out, and slapped his face, then something crashed into the side of her head with a crack. The girl crumpled to the ground, stars bursting across her vision. 

A pounding headache had already formed and her temple felt warm. Someone was shaking her limp form. “Helaena? Helaena! Helaena!” Someone called her name, Aemond? Jace? Luke? Rhaena? Baela? All of them? The voices blurred.

“…I’m so sorry…”

“…get away from her…”

“…is she alive…”

“…wake up…”

There was more shouting, someone was fighting again. Helaena lifted her head, which now felt heavier than a boulder, trying to make sense of what was happening. The boys were fighting, she couldn’t pull herself up. Aemond still had the rock, “Stop!” She called out, flinching at the volume of her voice. Luke lunged at Aemond before he could strike Jace, there was a flash of silver. Aemond fell back, clutching his face, screaming in pain as blood seeped between his fingers. 

[frostfall-matches]

[ matchmaking... ]

@peachiekittie : [ match report ready ]

your romantic match is…

✦ Zen / Hyun Ryu

The way Virgo and Zen so deeply relate to each other on the idea of not being able to live authentically, not being able to live the life that they chose for themselves… It’s such a driving factor for both of them that once they learn about that aspect of each other, it all makes so much sense why they do what they do. Zen dropped out of high school and clings so tightly to trying to prove his worth through his skills rather than his looks. Virgo breaks away from her family and hometown in order to push herself out of her comfort zone and grow as a person. Once they learn that one of their main motivations is quite similar, it becomes one of the main points that connects them.

Speaking of which, they also relate to having strained relationships with their family members. It’s not often that anyone can say that they have great relationships with all the members in their family unit, and all too common to have a rough relationship with at least one person. Zen knows all too well the feeling of having a parent that is critical, a parent that doesn’t fully support their child as they grow and start navigating life. He hates that someone as sweet as Virgo had to go through something similar while she was growing up. But, the past can’t be changed - he’s fully supportive of Virgo’s endeavors and goals to learn and grow and flourish, and he’ll help her out to the best of his ability! If she would reciprocate that energy back to him, he would be endlessly grateful.

He finds Virgo’s conviction to hold to her ideals and morals very admirable. The way she sticks to her guns and always tries to back her words with her actions makes it clear that she’s someone who is very genuine to herself and won’t try to pander to other people just to get on their good side. That being said, he does worry for her sometimes, when she gets so stuck in this mindset of needing to be morally “good” all the time, being crushed under the all too high expectations she places on herself. Zen wouldn’t be surprised that she ends up breaking down from time to time, though he would feel bad that it got to such a point. He may try to gently persuade her not to keep the standard so high for herself, though he would make it a point to tell her that he still likes that she puts so much of a conscious effort into being a good person and doing the right thing.

Zen loves that she has an interest in theater! It was definitely one of their big talking points when they first started chatting, and he would be ecstatic to hear that she wants/plans to come to his performances. He will absolutely make sure to save a ticket for her! Through their conversations, he finds out that she had been really interested in going into theater productions, and he ends up being like but why didn’t you?? When he learns that she just wasn’t sure if she would be able to commit to it, he understands… And yet… He would definitely encourage her to try it out if she has any interest at all! Like, in his eyes, she could give it a shot once or twice and figure out if this is something she truly wants to do or has the time/energy/motivation to do it.

He doesn’t think much of her difficulty breaking bad habits. Hell, smoking is terrible and he knows it, but he still can’t quite kick it. And hey, what’s a few bad habits here and there if one is still working on keeping themselves happy and healthy? Zen can clearly see that Virgo is being mindful of her health. Still… when he sees her biting at her nails or picking at her scabs, he does gently try to redirect her attention elsewhere. He’s most worried about the scabs and will make sure that they’re still kept properly clean so they can heal without infection. He can be a bit of a mother hen at times - and he will ignore anyone who says it might be hypocritical considering some of his own dangerous or unhealthy habits (smoking, riding motorcycle, not keeping his fridge stocked, LOL).

Zen tends to be a bit mindful of his image in public if he feels like people recognize him, but that doesn’t stop him from going out on dates with Virgo to amusement parks or shopping malls. Her liking to get out and visit parks is easy enough to work with, at least! He loves the variety of dates, and it’s so easy to make them feel like those classic, cutesy romantic dates (Zen is very much a romantic at heart). Also - if she were comfortable with it, he would looove to see some of her pole dancing. He’d also be incredibly interested in trying it out himself, too, honestly. He’s always heard that it was good exercise, but he’s never really felt comfortable going out and getting lessons. But lessons from his partner?? It sounds perfect.

Zen can be handy to have around when Virgo gets stuck in a state of overthinking. He knows full well that he’s not perfect in this regard and is prone to spiraling when he feels like his career has taken a hit, but he also knows how important it is to get out of that rut (and how important it is to minimize how often one falls into that rut in the first place). Zen is quite good at getting Virgo to focus on the here and now, instead of worrying about what-ifs and the future that hasn’t even happened yet. He tries to give advice, which may be hit or miss depending on the particular concern Virgo is fussing over, but he has good intentions and he’s more than happy to help talk things through with her to get her calm and focused on the present and what she can realistically do to approach the issue.

your platonic match is…

✦ V / Kim Jihyun

V is the type of person that provides a solid, calming presence to Virgo. Virgo is prone to anxiousness, low self-esteem, and stress - while V has his own struggles and worries, he really tries to be that stable rock for other people. He’s a bit older than she is as well, so he falls into this mentor/protective brother figure role rather easily. He’s taken on a similar role with 707 and Yoosung, so Virgo really isn’t much different in this regard. V is a good listener and is really good about giving her the time and space to vent if she needs - but he also gives really thoughtful advice, and is happy to help her figure out a solution! He’s had some practice with this, and is good about providing guidance and support without being too overbearing.

V adores how affectionate and compassionate she is. Virgo is very sweet and supportive of those she cares about, and he really values people who are willing to be selfless and caring for those they meet. Virgo makes it a point to be kind to strangers and not just her loved ones, which is all the more important to V. And really, considering this huge mess surrounding Rika and the RFA… he’s in desperate need of some compassion himself. He keeps adding to the burden on his shoulders and doesn’t really let anyone see how much he’s struggling, he doesn’t let anyone help him out. And chances are, Virgo isn’t going to see the full depth of what he’s dealing with. Still, she can clearly see that something heavy weighs on him, and any bit of kindness and compassion she offers to him will be deeply appreciated.

V is someone who would (gently) challenge Virgo on her tendency to have this strict, black-and-white thinking. Not that her way of thinking is wrong; she has every right to her own perspective and preferred way of processing the world. He just has a very different perspective, and views most things as some shade of gray. All situations will have their nuances, their histories, their actors, and their future implications, and many times these are not clear-cut. V isn’t going to be the type to debate her perspective and try to change it, but he does like discussing their perspectives! He is interested in how she sees the world, but he also brings up how a black-and-white mentality can be detrimental - to both Virgo and to those she’s trying to connect with.

He encourages her to hold onto that optimism, that sense of justice, that belief that people are inherently good. There’s so much pessimism and negativity in the world - he’s all too familiar with that, himself. V knows what it’s like to fall into a too-cynical mindset. He makes sure Virgo knows that these bright, warm traits can be hard to hold onto in today’s world as it seems they get drowned out in all this hate and negativity, but that just means it’s all the more important that people hold onto that optimism and hope. If people lose hope, they’re less likely to try and bring a positive change to their community, to the world in general.

V is very supportive of Virgo’s goals and desire to grow as a person. As he learns her backstory little by little, he definitely thinks Virgo made a great decision by getting herself out of her bubble, out of her comfort zone, and thus experiencing life on her own terms. He is quite surprised that she made such a large change to her life by moving to a different country and studying abroad, but honestly? That’s just all the more admirable in his eyes. Travel and immersing yourself in a different culture can be incredibly enriching. Virgo has a good head on her shoulders and is determined to carve her own path, and he’s happy that she has the support of the other RFA members, too. He thinks that Virgo can really be a positive force on them, and vice versa.

He isn’t actually around too often, and only rarely responds to messages due to his circumstances… but when he is around, he enjoys being able to get out and enjoy nature. If Virgo wanted some company while heading out to a local park, he’d love to come with if he has the time! It’s really nice; nature is healing, after all, and getting to relax in a nice, shaded area of a park all while chatting and catching up with a friend makes it all the more enjoyable. His vision is no longer what it used to be, but he can still enjoy the warm breeze and the scent of the foliage and flowers; he’ll trust Virgo when she says that the park is beautiful at this time of the year.