#bellyache canon

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

Warnings - Mentions of SA, child on child violence, graphic description, fatherlessness, Aemond gets fucked up, morally grey slay, questionable fathering, where are their parents?

Author's note ● Well, this is it. This is the last 124 AC chapter before we pick up six years later. Thank god, lets get to the SMASHING already!!! I just want to also state, that yes Visenya has raging father issues and yes that absolutely is going to evolve into something more disturbing, this may turn into a dead dove fic, purely because of the psychological fuckery I am about to pull. But hey, that's canon for ya. My girl has major problems. She IS going to make Aemond worse. Oh and this isn't edited, sorry for typos. I'll get to it later.

Word Count ~ 3.5k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi ● vii ● viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

vi ~ 'An Eye'

123 AC

They charged through the rock pools, making their way to the alcove which contained the lower passage into High Tide. Visenya had let go of his hand by now, she hadn’t muttered a word, too fuelled by adrenaline and disgust, but mainly shame. Shame for what Aegon did to her, shame she was too fearful to stop him.

As they came to the darkened impasse, Aemond’s hand reached to grasp her wrist, and Visenya’s eyes widened as she felt the warmth of his hand coil gently, a poor attempt at affection. She looked to him, her gaze one of shock… her heart swelled at the action, a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes, though his beamed with uncertainty.

Aemond's gazed sternly at the Princess, her silver hair glimmering under the torch light. No one had ever retaliated against Aegon, especially not for him...no one had ever bothered – not even his father. Aemond’s gaze softened as he glared at her, he felt shame rear its biting head in him as he recalled how little he had done to do the same for her. His grip upon her wrist slid down slightly, until his hand met the palm of hers, enclosing like a shell, as if done in thanks. Though Aemond did not know how to say such things, how to express it. Even this felt terribly odd, his brow furrowed.

Stillness settled, and the two young Targaryen’s stood face to face, their hands intertwined. The princess was in shock, her eyes gleamed with a slight affection for a moment – something warm tugging at her chest before she met the hard and dour gaze of his. She felt herself grow disturbed by the action, suddenly snapping out of the moment and ripping her hand away.

“What do you think you are doing?” She whispered intensely, her expression darkening before she could gauge why. Visenya wasn’t even sure why she pulled away.

Aemond looked down at his empty hand and then, met her gaze, “You defended me.” His voice plain, clinical.

“No one will believe you.” She gritted her teeth, her eyes beaming with tears as she went to turn. Fear and guilt overcame her, she couldn’t let him see how such affection warmed her heart for she could barely admit it herself.

The young prince scoffed, “I did not intend to speak of it.”

Suddenly Visenya whipped around fiercely, her gaze mad, as though his actions upon her were cruel. Aemond grew confused as she stepped towards him once more.

“Do not do that again!” Her voice a harsh whisper.

“What?” The boy shook his head, watching as she narrowed her eyes.

“Did you think we were friends? I took pity upon you! Pity, because you are but a dragonless bellyacher who was made to fuck an old whore.”  The words fell from her mouth before she could stop herself. She was livid and terrified of herself, she felt like a dragon gnawing at old bones. Visenya turned again as silence dropped quickly between the two.

As the princess turned, Aemond felt his heart shatter. He wasn’t sure what he felt for Visenya, what spurred him on to hold her hand, but her words confirmed everything he had already thought. Vain, spoiled, evil little… “Bastard.” He spat.

Visenya took a breath as the word rang, her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest, as she turned her head to gaze upon his stiff and arrogant expression, “What did you say?”

“You are a bastard-“ Aemond’s brow flickered, tilting his head in a smug, flat gaze.

Visenya felt her rage pierce through her, her hands suddenly meeting his chest as she shoved him straight to the floor. Her gaze unrelenting, brutal as he looked up to her with a wrath so apparent his very face heated. Aemond rose to his feet, fists clenched as he grasped her arm with all his might, The Princess winced, his grip tight and unyielding.

Aemond felt something beyond his understanding burn through him, his gaze no longer cold, but heated by years of pent up fury, his words like knives as he twisted her wrist, “You and your pitiful brothers may shove or taunt me all you like. It changes nothing, Visenya! You are bastards born of your mother’s whoring.”

Visenya winced again, finding the strength in her to rip herself away as angry tears fell. She clutched the tender flesh of her wrist before her words came out with a desperate intent to hurt him, “And you are a dragonless, second son, who despite being a boy grown likely still wishes he could suck at his mother’s tit!”

“I care not for what the likes of a spineless slut calls me.” His voice cold as his demeanour was composed rapidly.

“Slut? You… did you just?” The princess coughed out, stuttering in disbelief as she clambered back.

“Indeed. Your behaviour is far suited to Flea Bottom than the Red Keep. You did not protest my brother’s leering upon you until he acted upon it. You weeped out of fear, once his attentions transcended your liking. However, any honourable woman would have refuted his comments in the beginning. Not you though, for you are vain and indulgent, so it is no wonder Aegon took a liking to you, he only pursues those who he knows shan’t say no.”  Aemond’s voice matter-of-factly.

She nearly jumped upon him again, though his words made her ache beyond what she had ever felt. Shame beckoning through her like dragonfire, “You blame me?”

“Yes.” The prince nodded.

Visenya roared, lunched forward as she raised her voice, though Aemond did not flinch, “Your brother is a rotten degenerate, would you say the same if it were to happen to Helaena?”

The prince gave her a judgement look before speaking with arrogant clarity again, “It would not. My sister would not engage with such attention.  Perhaps you should take after her beh- “

“Your sister is a witless doll!” She raged forward, tears streaming as she clenched her fist.

Aemond’s expression flickered with anger once again at her cruel words of his sister, his tone warning, “Do not speak against her.” 

The young princess scoffed and laughed harshly, her tone outraged and contrasting his cool composure, “You have spoken far worse about my brothers and my mother! In fact, there are many things I might say, Uncle. Your brother is a lecherous craven, your grandfather a scheming traitor and your mother is a treacherous…. viperous cunt!”

Aemond felt his cheeks burn brighter, he wished to strike her… no to grab her by her hair and smash her pretty face against the rocks, watch it splatter upon the rocks. She was nothing, a bastard. A cruel girl with a wicked tongue; a whorish mother and a lech for a father. Before he knew what had happened he felt the harsh sting of his hand after it made contact with her damp cheek.

Visenya’s face turned, her hand clutching her cheek as tears fell. The Princess winced, his hand had whipped across her face so swiftly, leaving her no time to react. Slowly, her eyes met his and a long, bitter silence was exchanged before a familiar dark voice rang.

“Visenya?” Prince Daemon stood, cooly observing the two young Targaryen’s, his eyes glazing with a slight rage as it was clear he had seen the tail end of the events unfold. In fact, he had heard the bitter words of his daughter and nephew echoing throughout the impasse. His face stern as he looked upon his Visenya, then flickering to Aemond with a cold, warning glare. The young Prince took a step back, his eyes coming to the ground as he felt his uncle’s glare bore into him. Not him. Aemond thought.

Her eyes widened upon seeing Prince Daemon, his demeanour calm, unaffected as he extended a hand. “Come. Your mother sends for you, Princess.” Daemon’s voice carried softly throughout the cove, and Visenya said not another word before walking to him, gripping his hand as he led her away.

He brought her through the door leading into High Tide, she looked up, terrified. His gaze seemed familiarly dark as he dragged her along. Visenya whimpered, begging for him to look down upon her, to soothe her as tears fell, her heart filled with dread before she pleaded, “Please, do not tell mother… I.”

With a sudden grunt Daemon turned and forced them both into a shadowy nook within the hall, his hands forcing her shoulders into the wall as he looked down, he muttered lowly, “I care not for your murmuring Visenya. Not today. You swore you would cease this endless trouble making, and now I come to witness the Hightower boy provoked to the point of putting his hand upon you!”

Visenya shook her head, disarmed by him once again, “He-“

Daemon grabbed her chin, shaking his head as his words grew firmer, “Enough! Do you understand the difficulty that comes with me refraining from intervening? Nyke care daor qilōni fucking rhēdan ziry, nyke care bona ziry keliton lēda zȳhon ondos striking ñuha tala's laehurlion!” I care not who fucking started, I care that it ended with his hand striking my daughter’s face!

As he looked upon her frightened gaze, how the tears fell down his daughter’s sweet face, the grip upon her chin loosened as it came to cupping her cheek gently. Visenya continued to look up at him with simpering eyes, she understood her father’s wrath. This was his wife’s funeral after all, and here she was again causing more trouble than need be. Making matters worse within their House.

Daemon’s tone softened further, he sighed and regained a sense of authority, “So yes, I shall tell your mother, and yes you shall deal with the consequences, as shall the Hightower boy. I want justice and if I cannot seek it, Rhaneyra shall.”

The princess merely nodded at her father’s words, she watched his expression unfolded before her, feeling the warmth of his hands wipe her tears from her cheek. Daemon gripped her chin again, forcing her head to side so the light would catch upon her face, revealing what that little Hightower swine had done. He stroked the tender flesh as whispered cooingly, noticing reddening bloom upon her pale skin.

“Issi ao ōdrikagon?” Are you hurt?  He crooned gently, still examining her face before pulling it to centre.

Visenya shook her head, her gaze and tone fierce, “Daor” No.

A wry smile came to the Rouge Prince’s face before he chuckled lowly, amused by his daughter’s stern front, “Nēdenka zaldrītsos.” Brave little dragon.

His gaze lowered again as he spoke more sternly, rage coiling within him as he thought to what his nephew had done to her, Daemon’s eyes met hers, “Se hembar jēda ziry raises iā ondos naejot ao, kessa sagon se mōrī ēza ondos.” The next time he raises a hand to you, shall be the last he has hands.

Visenya shook her head, a need to admit the truth of it; that it was she who incited the fight once again, “Nyke inditan zirȳla, kepa.” I pushed him, Father.

Daemon’s brow flickered in surprise, not of his daughter initiating the trouble – but for the odd look of shame within her eyes about it. He grunted lowly and scoffed before speaking, “I’d imagine he deserved it, dōna riña” Sweet girl.

Her gaze weakened, she knew the truth of it, and this time; no, Aemond didn’t deserve it. She was the one who was cruel to him. He had tried to reach out, tried to find some sense to her actions, letting himself display the faintest hint of vulnerability and she punished him for it. If Daemon knew… knew that she had let Aemond’s hand linger upon hers, felt such warmth in her chest, such overwhelming affection– he would surely look at her with disgrace.

Visenya leaned in as her father’s hand brushed against her face softly, before pulling her in to a swift embrace. The small affection he could only give to her when none other might be watching. She let him believe her to be innocent, to have been justified in her actions against Aemond. Just for the simple fact, it would keep this brief moment of shared love going. Just so she would not have to watch as his doting eyes hardened. Yet, there was a dull ache that settled in her chest, a pulling familiar to her. Guilt.

How could she admit that her own pride, was wounded so easily that she was able to use her tongue as though it were a blade. That she was able to shove him without remorse. Visenya locked away those threads of thought, locked them away so she did not have to face the truth. It was her who ached, not him. Not Aemond. No, she only meant to inflict her own pain back upon him, and did so, so that she might close her eyes at night peacefully.

●

Upon that very night, in the early hours of the mourn, Visenya laid in her chamber, sleeping soundly. She felt soft hands gripping her arm shaking her to wake. The muffled whispers, like gossamer in the air as the Princess groaned softly. Her eyes opening dazedly, seeing a glimpse of moonlight locks atop a small frame. Baela.

“Sister… sister wake up…” Her light voice fluttered as she shook Visenya further.

The elder princess stirred properly, slowly sitting up, “Baela…?” She yawned lazily and leaned back, noticing her youngest sister, Rhaena standing aside – the young girls expression frazzled.

Visenya felt herself shift upwards at her sister’s worried look, concern coiled as she whispered, “Sisters, has something happened?”

Baela nodded, “You must come… somebody stole Vhagar!” She exclaimed softly.

Before Visenya knew what had happened, she had haphazardly thrown on her night robe as her siblings dragged her out from her chamber. Her eyes widened further as the sight of her two brothers, stood in the hall.

“Jace? Luke? What are you-“The princess furrowed her brows, panic ensuing within her as her eyes flickered between the dark haired boys. The halls of High Tide were deathly quiet, with only the sound of the low rumbling tide to cover their whispers.

“Come sister, we must go! Somebody has- “Jace whispered softly in the darkened hall, before he could continue, Visenya stepped forward and shook her head.

“Yes I know, somebody stole Vhagar. I suggest we all go inform the Sea Snake.” Her voice firm as she looked upon her array of siblings. Their faces coiling in protest.

Jace gritted his teeth, challenging her, “No! We shall go ourselves.”

The princess swiftly leaned forward, gripping her young brother’s arm, she felt frustration burn through her, “I am in enough trouble as is, if something happens it shall be who is blamed for not putting a stop to this!”

Jace, with all his strength pushed at Visenya’s chest, forcing her away from him. The two exchanged a startled look before he cleared his throat and spoke again, “We are going sister. Come or don’t.”

Visenya simply stood in the hall as she watched her siblings disappear into the night, her gaze wide, shocked by Jace’s actions against her. Fine, if he were to treat her in such a way, let them go get themselves harmed! She thought, though as more time passed she could not help but feel that familiar pull of regret stirring. No, she couldn’t let them go by their lonesome.

Without another thought, she ran after them, looking around to see where they may had gone too. The Princess crept around the main halls of High Tide, peering to try and find her siblings. Logically, they likely went the route of the alcove leading out to the shore, she crept down the passages, hearing familiar voices echo.

“It’s him.” Rhaena proclaimed.

“It’s me.” A deeper one responded; the haughty spite rife on their tongue.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!” She retorted back.

Her heart thundered as saw the warm glow of the opened door to the alcove, she knew it was her siblings in there, and the other voice, well, how could she not recognise his… Aemond.

“Your mother’s dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now…” Aemond beckoned.

Rhaena’s tone fierce, “She was mine to claim.”

As Visenya approached the door, her wide eyes were met with the scene. Her four siblings all opposed a smug Aemond, she peered through, wanting desperately to join in the confrontation, though she knew she couldn’t. Not with what had already happened today, not with her mother’s reputation already waning.

The silver haired prince raised his brow smugly, and sneered as he stepped forward, “Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.”

Just as the words left his lips, Visenya’s eyes met his and for a brief moment she saw the anger increase tenfold as he noticed her gaze, so much so in the split second he had been distracted, Rhaena charged, growling at Aemond, instantly being thrown to the floor by him. Baela charged, punching him squarely across his pale face and he fell to the sand a low grunt leaving him.

Just as he had fallen he rose, with swiftly precision striking Baela, knocking her to the ground leaving her wincing. Aemond snarled, leaning over the young girl as she clutched her cheek, shuffling away from his hammering voice, “Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!”

In response, Jace charged but Aemond evaded his throws before the silver haired boy threw Jace to the ground – a sudden cry of Luke rang in Visenya’s ears as she watched with horror as her small brother lunged upon Aemond and his fist ram straight into Luke’s small face, forcing him too, to the ground.  Luke’s cry filled the alcove before Aemond looked up again, scoffing as he saw Visenya peering once more. Suddenly, Jace lunched once more, pushing Aemond to the floor and one by one her siblings descended upon him.

She didn’t know what to do, nor why she couldn’t move or speak. It was like one of those horrid nightmares where she found herself unable to scream or unable to run – just awaiting doom to befall her. Her eyes locked on the sight, her four siblings kicked and punching at Aemond as he writhed upon the ground whining. Baela’s fist repeatedly struck him in the chest over and over again until Aemond managed to shove Jacaerys to the floor, then Baela.

As Luke raised his fist in anger, Visenya all but gasped as Aemond gripped her younger brother’s small neck she nearly stumbled down as she saw Aemond’s blooded face sneer.

His hand rising up with a large rock gripped, ready to strike Lucerys head. “You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond proclaimed, his voice gritted and wrathful before he looked up once more, the word practically spat from his mouth, “Bastards.”

Lucerys weeped, struggling against his much older Uncle as he choked for the slightest full breath, his voice simpering “My father’s still alive.”

Just like that, a wry haughty expression came upon Aemond’s face, as he looked to Jace letting his hand fall to his side, “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?” The silver haired boy flashed a satisfied scoff before the sharp sound of an unsheathed dagger rang.

Visenya’s heart nearly dropped as she found herself finally able to move, her feet forcing her down the few steps as she looked upon the sight of her brother pointing a dagger to Aemond, she cried, “Jace!” Her feet soon reached the sand as she stopped herself, Baela and Rhaena looking over their shoulder in fear, cowering backwards as Visenya reached for them, swiftly forcing them away. The boys began fighting once more and Jace was back upon the sand whimpering when she turned her head.

As she did so, the princess stepped in front of her half-sisters and slowly moved towards Jace as he clambered on the floor. Aemond stumbled back for a moment, regaining his footing before raising the rock up over Jace, Visenya’s eyes widened in fear as she froze, unsure of what to do.

Her gaze came to Aemond’s pleading for him to stop and as he looked at her, her chest nearly caved in upon itself as nothing, but a breathy snicker left his mouth. He was taunting her, enjoying the look of fear and helplessness upon her face as he dangled the rock over Jacaerys’ head.

Neither he nor Visenya noticed as Luke picked up Jace’s dagger and suddenly a throw of sand made its way into Aemond’s eyes causing him to break the contact with Visenya and wince in pain. As he looked back, there Luke was her small, harmless little brother clutching the blade, standing before Aemond and with a fierce pained cry, Luke slashed the blade across Aemond’s face.

It happened in seconds, before she could even register the violence before her, she only saw how Aemond had toppled to the ground, the blood splattering upon Luke’s face. Their Uncle’s unfamiliar cries of pain filling the space as he clutched his face. She hadn’t seen what was truly done, but she did see the blood pool from beneath him, tainting the white sand below.

As the Ser Harold came thundering in, she felt the small body of Luke lunge into hers, his arms wrapped around her tightly, the stench of Aemond’s blood now staining her nightrobe. She slowly embraced her little brother, pulling him tightly against her, tucking him away as she watched the writhing Aemond.

For a brief moment the silver haired boy’s wide eye met hers and princess turned away from him, shielding Lucerys from the mess he had made.

○vii○

[balioc]

I've said it before, I'm just repeating myself at this point, but my cries have been swallowed by the winds of discourse and so I feel compelled to try once more --

The tests that get used in the US to measure "student achievement," and thereby "school effectiveness," are close to 100% worthless for the purpose.

I say this as someone who is

(a) very much in favor of using other tests to measure student achievement and thereby school effectiveness, and also

(b) very much in favor of using those tests for other purposes.

Close to 100% of the big-stakes tests, across the country, from kindergarten up through the end of high school, are either timed reading-comprehension exercises or timed basic math exercises. Which is to say: they are barely-disguised IQ tests. They do not demand any particular corpus of knowledge, or for that matter any kind of cultivated skill, beyond the absolute baseline universal standards of "can read and understand written English" and "can execute the most fundamental algebraic and geometric operations." They give points for being quick and accurate, and sometimes for being able to see through simple tricks. You do well on those tests by having a fast, agile, precise, unclouded mind and a capacious working memory.

That is not a thing that any teacher can teach.

It's an important thing. There are all sorts of circumstances where it really matters whether you have a fast, agile, precise, unclouded mind and a capacious working memory. But measuring that, and then using the results to determine whether or not a school has done its job, is pants-on-head insane.

...the trick, of course, is that -- for all the bellyaching and caterwauling about intelligence measurement -- we can all pretty much agree that, wherever they come from, reading comprehension and basic math skills are things that matter. In order to have a sane measurement system for schools, we'd have to come to a similar agreement about anything that a school could reasonably be expected to teach.

This is one reason, of many, that it is good to have an acknowledged cultural canon. But we could at least start with dropping the reading and math, and testing basic scientific and historical knowledge instead.

[mike-wheeler-hater]

Songs i want to see Byler edits to when they’re canon

The Great War - Taylor Swift

Flawless - The Neigbourhood ( use the bridge it’s the best part of the song)

Don’t Blame Me - Taylor Swift

Set Fire To The Rain - Adele

Softcore - The Neigbourhood

Seven - Taylor Swift

Back To The Old House - The Smiths

Yellow - Coldplay

Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift

You And I - One Direction (lmao)

The Beach - The Neigbourhood (love this one)

Baby Come Home 2 / Valentines - The Neigbourhood (was once my favorite song)

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey

This Love - Taylor Swift

Somewhere Only We Know - Keane

Midnight Rain - Taylor Swift

Mistakes Like This - Prelow

We Fell In Love In October- Girl In Red

Baby I’m Jealous - Bebe Rexha ( ~I stole your man~ idk it would be funny but mean )

Bellyache- Billie Eilish

Me And Micheal - MGMT

The Most Beautiful Boy In The World -The Irrepressibles ( requested by @jazz-penguin 🫶)

Sweet Disposition- Temper Trap ( requested by @are-friends-electric-7 🫶)

Forever & Always - Taylor Swift

Style - Taylor Swift

I’ll call you mine - Girl In Red

Heroes - David Bowie ( requested by @themidnightpoetsociety 🫶 thank u , I can’t believe that I forgot )

The Story - Conan Gray

Everything Has Changed- Taylor Swift ( requested by @byler-solos 🫶)

You Get Me So High - The Neigbourhood ( ~you’re my best friend I’ll love you forever~ fits them somehow)

Heather - Conan Gray ( requested by @violetbaudelaire15 🫶)

Video Games - Lana Del Rey ( requested by @ilsrj 🫶)

Everlong - Foo Fighters ( requested by @daydreams-in-the-moonlight 🫶)

Wicked Game- Chris Isaak

Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division

Just Like Heaven - The Cure

Lovesong - The Cure

Never Let Me Down Again - Depeche Mode

Are ’Friends‘ Electric ? - Tubeway Army

Apocalypse- Cigarettes after sex

Starlight - Muse

Enjoy The Silence - Depeche Mode

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - The smiths

Ordinary World - Duran Duran

Supercut - Lorde

When We Were Young - Adele

After Dark - Mr Kitty

You Are In Love - Taylor Swift

Daylight - Taylor Swift

It’s Nice To Have A Friend - Taylor Swift

Out Of The Woods - Taylor Swift

Afterglow - Taylor Swift

Still Into You - Paramore

The Only Exception- Paramore

All I wanted - Paramore

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

Head Over Heels- Tears for fears

Sparks - Coldplay

Fix You - Coldplay

New Person , Same Old Mistakes- Tame Impala

Die For You - The Weekend

Breakdown - Tom Petty and the heartbreakers

About You - The 1975

Wonderland - Taylor Swift

Lover - Taylor Swift

Long Long Time - Linda Ronstadt

I Love You - Billie Eilish

I Want To Know What Love Is - Foreigner

Can’t Fight This Feeling - REO Speedwagon

Keep On Loving You - REO Speedwagon

Crazy Little Thing Called Love- Queen

Who Wants To Live Forever - Queen

Time After Time - Cindy Lauper

True Colors - Cindy Lauper

Take On Me - A-Ha

True Love - P!nk

Who Knew - P!nk

Someone To You - BANNERS

Someone To Stay - Vamcouver Sleep Clinic

Don’t You ( Forget About Me ) - Simple Minds

Reflections - The Neigbourhood

Compass - The Neigbourhood

Stuck With Me - The Neigbourhood

Scary Love - The Neigbourhood

Void - The Neigbourhood

Nervous - The Neigbourhood

Honest - The Neigbourhood

Sunsetz - Cigarettes After Sex

505 - Artic Monkeys

I Wanna Be Yours - Artic Monkeys

Wonderwall - Oasis

Don’t Look Back In Anger - Oasis

Dandelions - Ruth B

I Follow Rivers - Lykke Li

Don’t Speak - No Doubt

Listen To Your Heart - Roxette

Right Now - 1D

Infinity- James Young

It’s My Life - Talk Talk

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Open Your Eyes - Snow Patrol

Duvet - Bôa

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

You’re My Best Friend - Queen

Clocks - Coldplay

Till Forever Falls Apart - Ashe

Cherry- Lana Del Rey

Say Yes To Heaven- Lana Del Rey

Without You - Lana Del Rey

If I Lose Myself - One Republic

Secrets - One Republic

What You Wanted - One Republic

Electric Touch - Taylor Swift ( requested by @cultofsheep 🫶)

I Think We’re Alone Now - Tiffany

Fuck It I Love You - Lana Del Rey

American Money - BØRNS

Message In A Bottle - Taylor Swift

Boys & Girls - Conan Gray

Now That We Don’t talk - Taylor Swift

You’re On Your Own Kid- Taylor Swift

( all 4 recent song requested by @martyconansversion 🫶)

( thank you @toria-hanny for all your requests 💗💗💗. I’ll make sure to find them all once Byler is canon . And btw your music taste is awesome 🫶)

I’ll keep updating this because I want to 👍🏻😀 If you have any ideas or something feel free to tell me please !

[rosethornewrites]

NR, E, & M reading since 7/25

Finished

Not Rated:

thought that I'd feel better, but now I got a bellyache, by Buttercup_ghost

The ghost fire flickered. Slow, faded flickering, as if it was dwindling. Indeed, it shouldn't be a thing, due to the soul calming rituals it experienced in its youth, but there is something that cultivators don't know, a secret that allows our humble ghost fire to persist after death: not all ghosts are formed out of resentment.

No, some are formed from love.

"A-Xian?" The ghost fires voice wavered. "A-Cheng?"

But, no one answered it. The words were barely there, whispered into the wind and drowned out by it.

The ghost fire trembled. Where were its brothers? Where was its son? Where, if it was indeed dead, was its husband, who it was sure was waiting for it in the afterlife?

"A-Xuan?" It tries again, when none of the living answer. Perhaps the dead will, it thinks, if it—she—is dead as well. But it's no use. Her husband does not answer either.

Jiang Yanli, ghost fire barely holding onto existence, is completely alone.

divulgences, by ataraxistence

In the midst of an embrace with Wei Wuxian on the floor of the Library Pavilion, Lan Wangji senses that someone's spying on them. In the ensuing confrontation, both he and Wei Wuxian (shockingly enough) use their words.

Canon divergence, in which they basically realise their affection for each other way early on, while Wei Wuxian is still studying at the Cloud Recesses.

counting crows, by cloudyrobinwrites (jwyoomi)

Wei Wuxian received the news of his first death a little bit too late.

Explicit:

love; it will not betray you, by vespertineflora

When Wei Wuxian realizes how strange it is that Lan Wangji is the only disciple from his sect at the Wen Sect's indoctrination, he puts together a haphazard plan to get punished with him and get some time alone to talk to him--only to get punished again when Wen Chao catches him mid-conversation attempt. At first, Wei Wuxian laughs off getting shoved into the empty dungeon, but he soon notices that some strange scent in the room is making him go into heat, which is a twist that Wei Wuxian doesn't understand. It's only when a rutting Lan Wangji gets shoved into the room with him that Wei Wuxian realizes Wen Chao's idea for punishing him is far more demented than he could have imagined. (canon divergent from The Untamed, episode 12)

love; it will set you free, by vespertineflora (2 chapters, 2nd in a series)

(A sequel to "love; it will not betray you.") Lan Wangji hadn't been prepared for the punishment Wen Chao had had in mind--and he certainly hadn't been prepared for how it would play out, from Wei Wuxian's suggested solution, to the claiming bite and resulting bond that revealed deeper emotions than Lan Wangji could ever have anticipated from Wei Wuxian. Surviving the indoctrination camp is only the first step down a long road towards the life he's desperate to have with his new mate.

Mature:

Thunderstorm in the Library Pavilion, by ZamaShines (5 chapters)

“Wei Ying, please,” he pleaded, desperation making his hand hover around Wei Wuxian’s shoulder for a second time.

The image of Wei Wuxian, breathing hard and uneven, his face drawn and his body taut with constant shivers, was a sharp contrast to his typically radiant and carefree appearance. Lan Wangji was struck by the sight, frozen in place, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. He didn’t know what to do, how to help him.

(Or, Wei Wuxian is afraid of thunderstorms and Lan Wangji wants to help, but don’t know how.)

Just go forward like you mean it, by tawaen (10 chapters)

Before Wei Wuxian can say he will join Jiang Cheng and attend the Wen indoctrination, a letter describing the burning of the Cloud Recesses reaches Lotus Pier.

Realizing the danger to the Jiang sect, he decides to stay behind to help with the defenses and keep his sect safe. While he agonizes over the fate of the disciples sent as little more than hostages, he upgrades the wards of the Jiang sect to stand against the inevitable Wen army.

Lotus Pier will survive, and Wei Wuxian changes his own fate and the fate of the Sunshot Campaign.

Unfinished

Not Rated:

Disclosed Regrets, by HuaisangsIntellect

One typical, ordinary morning, the entirety of the cultivation world awaken in a strange room resembling that of the Burial Mounds. Wei Wuxian, as usual, is the prime suspect for their mysterious appearance. Although...

"Shijie...?"

"A-Xian!" "Wei Ying!" "Wei Wuxian!"

What entity transported them into that strange room, and for what purpose? And someone PLEASE explain to Jiang Wanyin why Wen Ruohan is having the time of his life right now..!!

And most importantly, why are both Wei Wuxian's past AND thoughts being broadcasted to everyone? And why, for the last time, are all of the supposedly-dead people (including the bad guys) alive again?

(Or: The characters of Mo Dao Zu Shi watch Mo Dao Zu Shi)

In the End, by Sciatic_Nerd

What if, when Jiang Cheng felt he was forced to choose between protecting his beloved older sister or his loyal brother he remembered that Wei Wuxian always found the worst trouble and he never, ever remembered to guard his back.

Or, what if Jin Guangshan never managed to tear the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng apart.

Explicit:

Only with Time, by adrian_kres (🔒)

Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were arranged to be married as is tradition. Throughout their thirteen-year-long "courtship," things were not always as they seemed. Now, newly married, old secrets have ripped open wounds they thought were closed, and they must work together to rebuild a trust they never had and a love they always did but couldn't see.

Told from alternating points of view between LWJ and WWX with frequent flashbacks to memories of their "courtship".

Heavenly ribbon, by RebelPirate1765

Wen Qing's scattered soul found it's way back to being whole, no longer attached to the same worldly morals as before, she returns to her 21 year old self. She picks up a sword to stand in the way of her clan's destruction. But standing against Wen Ruohan is no easy feat when he has your whole clan as hostage.

She leaves for Gusu to begin her quests to gather allies, her dept to Wei-Wuxian not forgotten either.

An actor in her own life, she can no longer tell, who she is, nor who she really loves. All she knows is that she can not let her brother die again.

Set before the Sunshot campaign, during and after.

Mature:

Army Dreamers, by Forever_Marie

Lan Wangji finds Wei Wuxian in the field with strangle marks and other horrible injuries after Lotus Pier falls.

He takes him back to Gusu.

I’ll grow you a garden (in my fortress of stone), by Lyna_Mei

Wei Wuxian finds himself in the Unclean Realm. Nie Mingjue finds himself wanting to keep him. The world around them finds the situation strange but it doesn't really matter.

Or

Everything could be completely different if Wei Wuxian's intelligence and skills were recognised and valued. Well, not absolutely everything, but most things certainly could.

(一日三秋) One day (seems like) three autumns, by SpicyRamen_10969

13 Years ago, Wei Ying disappeared.

13 years later, two teenage boys find a man collapsed and bleeding on the side of the road.

This is the story of how Wei Ying finds himself going from homeless to living with his childhood best friend, Lan Wangji, and finally getting the help and love he needs and deserves.

Fool Me Once, by bnonsensical

It’s the guilt that eats away at him. He has so many regrets and he is just...so tired.

But when Lan Xichen finds himself reliving a nightmare, he does what he is always prone to do: push aside his own concerns to ensure that history doesn’t repeat itself.

[kirchefuchs]

(BACK AT IT AGAIN, PEOPLE!)

So earlier I was listening to No Surprises by Radiohead.

Listen to it right now and tell me that it's not Stanley-coded, I freaking dare you–

I AM NOT JOKING HERE, IT IS THE MOST PERFECT SONG FOR HIM AND LET ME GO ON A LONG EXPLANATION AS TO WHY I CLAIM SUCH THING

aHem now let's get to the lyrics 💯

"A heart that's filled up like a landfill

A job that slowly kills you

Bruises that won't heal"

(Already. I bet you can already see what I mean by this–)

Imagine being Stanley for a second. Dude is literally stuck in a parable all his life (I mean, if the one he has right now still counts) with a narrator who is only coded to care about him when Stanley's actions directly affect either it or the story (I love The Narrator with all my life I swear but he's a bit of a jerk in the canon so <//3).

And Stanley has a job. Every single day (reset), he's always sent back to the very beginning. As the hours go by, every little detail that he's slowly grown to despise torments him — it's slowly killing him and the only thing he can do is suck it up and move on. He's essentially "working" in a soulless ghost of a company with no way out and is forced to live every single waking moment of his life with The Narrator, listening to his voice drone on and on and on and on until Stanley's sick of it but can only wish that he could die permanently without the curse of coming back at the end (is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never th...) of each path.

Who wouldn't hate it?

He's living in his own, personal hell, with no way to just stop and breathe and relax without The Narrator just deciding to come along and ruin it all. No matter how many bruises, none of them will heal.

Let's move on to the next part, shall we?

"You look so tired, unhappy

Bring down the government

They don't, they don't speak for us"

You can imagine "the government" as "The Narrator" in this. With every loop coming full circle, who wouldn't feel tired? Who wouldn't feel exhausted, even if your physical stamina has been reset? Who wouldn't feel unhappy?

Who wouldn't, other than The Narrator?

He only wants Stanley to continue with the story. He only wants Stanley to just get along with it and give him an ending instead of just standing around because how dare he take a break– how dare he actually try to relax and heal for once. How dare he be human. How dare he try to prove he's in control. How dare he wave off The Narrator's obvious power. How dare he claim that he doesn't speak for him. How dare he. How dare he.

"I'll take the quiet life

A handshake of carbon monoxide

And no alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises

Silent. Silent."

This. This. I think this speaks for itself but I'll proceed to go on a super long tangent anyway.

Quiet. Quiet is all he'll ever want. In every single moment of his life, The-freaking-Narrator is always there to screw him up one way or another, with the only exception being The Skip Button Ending. While I'm at it, I like to think that the Stanley Button in the epilogue didn't give him the reaction we've all absolutely loved (and also wanted) him to have. Instead, a sort of nostalgic and post-anger relief is all he'll ever feel towards it, knowing that this is most-likely the last time he'll ever have to hear The Narrator call him Stanley.

Finally, finally — there's silence. It's only him and the bucket. Only him and the rustling sounds of his shoes dragging against the sand. Only him and the occasional, howling wind. Only him and the relief of the end (was never the end was never the end was never the end was never th...). Only him and the quiet life. Only him. No longer does he need to be controlled. No more. None of that. No more alarms, no more surprises, just silence.

(THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS LOADING...)

No.. Why?..

"This is my final fit

My final bellyache with

No alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises, please"

Oh.

I lied.

Of course he can't be free! Of course, of course, of course. How dare he actually want to be free. How dare he assume something as childish and as naïve as freedom. Tsk tsk, Stanley; I ought to bring back what you should have expected in the first place.

This is your story and I am your narrator. For all I know, you can't leave without me. You can't leave. You, can't, leave.

Oh, you're begging? Go on, beg. More fun that way, after all! Now get along with the story. Move your pathetic butt out of your office door. Good.

All of his co-workers were gone, what could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room; perhaps he had simply missed a memo.

(...Ahem, sorry, a cruel Narrator is just really fun to roleplay as, haha– Anyway, if you actually listen to the song and head to that part of the lyrics, the "this is my final fit, my final bellyache (with)" is calmer in comparison to the sudden thud– the sharp turn to the chorus ("no alarms and no surprises³/please"). That's what I basically wanted to convey while I was being weird (aka, going full-blown Narrator lmfao 💀); Stanley was taken back when he finally thought he was free.)

"Such a pretty house

And such a pretty garden

No alarms and no surprises (get me out of here)

No alarms and no surprises (get me out of here)

No alarms and no surprises, please (get me out of here)"

Oh, if only.

If only.

If only he had the choice.

(ahem anyway, holy cuh-raP this is long asf– anyway local 🅰️non Notes: I would like to apologize to Pollux for making you super mean here 😞 But in all fairness, this isn't you. ...quite literally, lmfao–)

(Anyway!! hope you liked this one lolz– this is the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never th– oopsie! what I meant to say was– this is the end of today's ramble 💯)

— 🅰️non :D || 07/02/2023

I don't think I have much to add onto you're rant here. This was all very fun to read honestly. And don't worry about Pollux, lol.

He may be a squishy little cinnamon roll now. But back in hl2 he was very similar to how you portrayed him.

He was a lot meaner back then. It can be hard to be considerate of people's feelings when you can't feel them yourself. He's still cute tho ♡

[bonefall]

I applaud you for having the patience to make family trees because I've seen the ones you've made for canon and I don't think I have your strength. What even is canon's family trees oh my gosh

They don't have SIMPLE rules in place for their sprawling family trees, despite the fact that family, inheritance, and legacy have been major themes of this godforsaken series since the first series

And it's snowballing into a worse and worse problem since they very obviously want to explore the implications of descendants feeling like they have to live up to ancestors they've never met... but they make pairings brainlessly, and accidentally wind up with the entire Clan having the exact same ancestors.

And yet they don't care about non-Firestar lineages. No one comments on how nearly all of ThunderClan comes directly from the Frostfour.

I can fix it though, but I do reserve the right to bellyache about it the whole way down

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

"A lot of the voice actors and a few of the writers ship Zvtara!!!!"

.............And? This is another reason for me to roll my eyes. With Zvtara shippers thinking Bryke are creeps for shipping Kataang and yet there are plenty of grown ass adults who still bellyache over Zuko and Katara not fricking each other!

I even heard one of the people who worked on The Owl House is an Aang Anti and a Zvtara stan and I was initially pissed but then I just laughed because they worked on the gayest Disney Channel cartoon ever and yet they also simp over Zoootara. Probably another person who thinks ZK is the "Straight ship for the gays!" when Zvtara fanfiction is riddled with hetero-normalic tropes.

Yeah, they have no self-awareness. Adults shipping Kataang is bad and creepy, but adults shipping Zutara is good. Writers/actors liking Zutara is a "victory", but these same writers/actors saying they also like the canon pairings is irrelevant or makes them problematic. One rule for them, another rule for everybody else.

"Straight ship for the gays despite hetero-normative tropes" Alright, can we just not do this? The problem with calling Zutara "the straight ship for the gays" is not that they're "too hetero" to fit the role - the problem is that said role is stupid in the first place.

You don't automatically become the perfect ally/proudest gay person ever if you like every gay ship ever, and you don't "lose gay points" if you like a straight ship, even one between a very feminine girl and a typically masculine guy and with fanfics all about them getting married and having babies - much like Zutara is not the "feminist ship" or "the female gaze" like they claim to be just because plenty of the shippers are women. Being part of the same demographic doesn't mean you're guaranteed to have the same taste in fiction.

Zutara could have been super gay, and have both characters be completely uninterested in marriage and having kids, and it'd still suck as a ship because the characters are clearly wrong for each other.

Are plenty of zutarians sexist, racist and even homophobic? Yes. But the ship by itself isn't, because Zuko and Katara as just toys for people to play with, so a woman, people of color, or gay people liking Zutara is not a contradiction, and straight white guys liking it is not proof that they're awful people.

Bad taste in fictional/fanon romances and bad media literacy is not the same as bigotry.

[breadbasketandbutter]

Mmkay, ya know what? I'm gonna go ahead and indulge myself a little, so voila - belly HCs for P//ain and P//anic.

P//ain

His belly noises are louder than P//anic's, but less frequent.

Is completely unashamed when his tummy growls (practically canon, as he outright announced that his tummy was "all grumbly" out of hunger with no hesitation or shame about it halfway through the stage show "V//illains T//onight!").

*GUUUUURGLE!* "Whoa, is it lunchtime already? Man, all this U//nderworld business is hungry work! Guess I better go put somethin' in ya, huh big guy?" (rubs his tummy with anticipation)

Is also unashamed of patting/rubbing his tummy. If something tasty catches his attention, he will pat/rub his tummy with enthusiasm, regardless of if anyone is around or not.

Most certainly engages in tummy talking, but only when he knows he's alone.

Loves receiving belly rubs, but would sooner die than let anyone know. He's got a reputation as an U//nderworld imp to keep up, and damn it, he is not going to let people think he's a softie in the least.

Despite his name, bellyaches don't usually occur to him when he stuffs himself. He does have a limit, though, and once it is passed, P//ain will go on to do what he does best - experience pain. Moaning, groaning, complaining, holding of his too-full belly in hopes of easing his inner turmoil, etc. ensue.

P//anic

His belly noises are quieter than P//ain's, but more frequent. This is often a point of embarrassment for him.

Becomes a totally embarrassed mess when his tummy growls (horns down, hands behind back, bashful grin, comically quiet voice, beet red face, the whole nine yards).

*Gluuuurg... squirk!* (swallows nervously and blushes like mad) "Oops... heh heh heh... 'scuse me... (bashfully pats his tummy)

Frequently suffers from a nervous stomach, which entails noises that are louder and longer than at any other time. It also brings about frequent butterflies, shakiness, queasiness, cramps and other not-so-fun surprises.

Also engages in tummy talking, but no louder than harsh whispers.

Also loves receiving belly rubs, but is far too nervous to tell anyone. Can't have people thinking he's a touch-starved weirdo now, can he?

His signature potbelly is a result of frequent stress eating.

Also doesn't usually experience bellyaches when he overeats, but once his limit is passed, there will be a lot of whimpering, whining, bracing, and curling up involved.

[silversiren1101]

Well I'm sure you can guess I'm going to ask you about Mino Woljif Dance (please I have to know)

Hehe of course! This is a fun lil drabble/ficlet I was working on for a post-game canon story, when everyone is at the victory gala in Nerosyan put on for them!

I was skimming through it this morning and still liked it so I might touch it up and post!

Here's the first part of it!

Minovae laughed, breathless and downright exuberant for the first time in some many, many months. She wiped a hand across her damp brow, and tucked strands of her hair that had come loose from her up-do behind her ears.

“You’ve improved so much! Remember when I first started teaching you?”

The purple hand locked with hers pulled her back in from where she’d been spun out in the middle of their dance. She came back up close to her dance partner, and the two of them effortlessly shifted to a promenade position as they advanced across the dancefloor. The pairs of other dancers flowed with them and around them in their own matched strides. Everyone moved in time with the typical Mendevian waltz the music called for, but for them two of them, though? Something about their presence made them cut through the others as if they were a blade through water.

Not terribly surprising, though.  This insufferable party was in celebration of their impossible triumph, and they were the guests of honor, after all—the Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade and her staunchest friends and allies.

“How could I not, chief! It was—” Woljif snickered as he turned them both in a well-controlled spin upon reaching the edge of the dance floor. “—right when we picked up Reggie. I nearly lost my arm to those gargoyles and you lashed our tails together, punishing me for getting hurt!”

She knew he was just being dramatic as usual, drawing his perspective out of proportion for the sake of humor and pity points. Teaching him to dance had been a punishment, yes, but for disobeying her orders rather than suffering injury. She could never be so cruel as to what he was—jokingly—suggesting, and he knew it.

Woljif had been such a terrified young man back then, at the start of the Crusade. He’d been more lost than the rest of them in the horrors of actual battle rather than the back alley trickery he’d been more used to at the time. Minovae’s orders had seemed so daunting to him—‘Stay right behind me and Seelah, strike when I leave you an opening!’—with his inexperience. Fighting right on the front line? Taking advantage of breaks in their shield wall that would put him most at risk as well? He’d subsequently been mauled by a gargoyle that cornered him after he’d decided to follow his own plans, instead.

Teaching him to dance, even going so far as to tie their tails together to do so, had been just as much a punishment as it was intended to get him more comfortable with fighting in tight and intimate quarters. 

And so Minovae merely clicked her tongue at his bellyaching, tsking up at the tiefling, who stood at least a foot in height over her. “Alas, poor Woljif. Taught to dance in the middle of a war. So sorry for making you irresistible to the number of eyes I’ve seen upon you here tonight.”

He faltered at that. An excited flush tinted those purple cheeks slightly red as he looked up from their movements and scanned the crowd for any of those implied admirers. Minovae, meanwhile, carried on exactly as he should have been. She drew her foot backwards and began to step, transitioning from promenade and fallaway so as to return to the center of the floor along with the other dancers who were, in fact, still in time with the music. 

When Woljif didn’t budge, as expected, she deftly scooted his foot along with the heel or her other, and he promptly had to correct in a rather ungraceful flail to keep from falling face first.

She laughed, rather impishly. “Oh, well. Maybe not anymore, what with that blunder.”

[thekimspoblog]

The reason I haven't written "My final fight, my final bellyache" yet is because (horniness aside) I just think the tone would be very hard to capture.

"Sheepdog" spent a lot of time with Kim shocked and confused to learn she was a fictional character, and I don't want to retread the same concepts.

Even if Kim doesn't always retain the specifics of what her dreams are telling her, in my cannon she has a growing awareness of something beyond the realm of her perceived reality. Something watching her that has been uniquely fascinated with her sexuality.

So with this chapter, things would have to come full circle: Kim knows there have been forces manipulating her choices, but those were her choices nonetheless and she's sticking to them. She knows she's a character, but what do you even do with that information? It doesn't change what she wants. She loves Jimmy, but at the end of the day, the birth of their daughter was never going to be about the relationship between he and she; today is about her relationship with her own spirituality.

I don't think it's a radical reinterpretation of the character to say Kim has never been particularly religious up til this point. Canonically, the vibe I get is strongly secular/skeptical, like even identifying as an "atheist" would be too much of an investment in the debate. For most of her life, Kim had been a passive agnostic. But the truth is, when she joined RUIC, it wasn't a simple alliance of convenience to get Jimmy sprung. She'd already seen things she couldn't explain. As Pink Floyd put it, "a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye". So we're in this weird triangle now, where Kim has a relationship with the church congregation, and she has a relationship with this abstract feeling of doom/objectification she can only call God, and arguably this god is what the Church believes in too... but as far as Kim is concerned, God and the Church are two entirely different things to her.

Mostly I'm just not sure how to write Jimmy caught in the middle of all this. He's looked for a sense of magic and control his whole life, and he's finally found it in his wife. But it must be terrifying feeling left out, if there really are forces out there beyond his comprehension and he has to rely on a translator. And the alternative possibility is even worse; that the things Kim is saying she's experiencing aren't real, and he's landed himself with another person who's too smart to be reasoned out of their own paranoid delusions.

@2entangledworms @richeeduvie

[boytumms]

YOOOOO me and some discord buddies created a whole tummy pain AU for our blorbos this weekend! We decided one has ulcerative colitis (UC) and the other just has tons of food sensitivities but they both get nervous bellyaches. We went through different canon situations talking about how their tummies would react. It was fire, 10000/10, do recommend!!

Ohhhh my god that sounds like so much fun I wish I was you ajdnkandnandns

I’m not very good at talking about kinks with other people outside of answering asks, but I wish I was. I am in a belly kind discord but I’m hardly active, this makes me wanna try and be more active again lol

[roguetelepaths]

Okay, FINE. I'll replay the Gamma Quadrant content in STO.

But that doesn't mean I have to LIKE it.

The first time I did this I made a Jem'Hadar for the purpose of playing through it, but this time, I'm going to be playing on my Bajoran, Anaru Elen. If you know anything about her, you know she worked closely with/was mentored by Odo for a while on DS9. So uh. She's gonna have Opinions. And I might try to do a fanfic thing in which I write up some of the events from her point of view, because even though STO isn't her main canon, I think it'll be fascinating to see.

Look forward to bellyaching, irrational anger at things that don't line up with my very specific Dominion headcanons, and most importantly, Suffering (both mine and Anaru's.)

It'll be tagged #victory is liveblogging. If you want to follow it, or you know, block it. Whatever you choose.

[characternerdocs]

What do Vincent and Umoriti fight about? o:

Vincent and Umoriti's fights ||| @icybreaths

Oh nothing serious, Umoriti is just a sassy piece of shit, particularly to Vincent. Despite the fact Umoriti doesn't talk, both Vincent and Heather understand every whiny and snort Umoriti utters (or engine rev and signal flash if he's in car form)

Their "fights" are usually Umoriti calling Vincent out on his over-the-top edgelord dramatics or Vincent just finding Umoriti's attitude disrespectful. essentially they just squabble like dysfunctional siblings.

It's actually canon that after getting a little intimate with Heather one night, Vincent spent the whole following day venting to Umoriti in the privacy of Izloirn about how royally he screwed up, cause Heather didn't know yet that Vincent wasn't exactly human. Vincent was going on and on about how if Heather knew the truth about what he really was, she would not be so favorable to him and appalled with what they let happen the previous night. Until Umoriti, over all of Vincent's "woe is me" bellyaching, let it slip that Heather probably wouldn't care that Vincent was a living shadow as she already knew Umoriti was not only a sentient car but an undead hell horse, and, at first, Heather chalked it up to that fact Glenbrooke had relieved her of any good sense and Umoriti had to prove to her he wasn't some mad figment of her imagination.

This didn't stop Vincent's worries, but it did provide a detour from that as he reamed Umoriti out for being so stupid to have told Heather about himself. But really it wasn't Umoriti's fault, nobody besides Vincent had understood his sounds before, why should he have expected this random little chaos gremlin to?

However, Umoriti will blatantly let Logan see him change from horse to car in the book. So when she sees Vincent later in Umoriti's car form she does joke with Vincent that it appears that they both have Broncos, (as Logan's car is a Ford Bronco, and honestly the joke was right there), and that one is a little less excusable

[aurabear2001]

Echoes From The Past

Echoes From The Past - Preface

"All Aboard"

Kid x OC

Warnings: Swearing - Word Count: 1169

 Author's Note: Hello, everybody! My name is Aura, and this is my first time writing here on Tumblr. I've been writing fanfiction on and off for about 15 years now, but I rarely have the courage to actually post it.

This fic is a Kid x OC fanfiction. It takes place post-timeskip and a after the events of Sabaody Archipelago. I really can't say much else about the fic without giving everything away, so you'll just have to read it for yourself!

This fic is also kind of an informal introduction to my OC, Bellatrix. I made her wayyy back when I was a sophomore in high school so she's been around for a while.

There's no warnings in these first few chapters, aside from swearing and canon-typical violence, but we're dealing with Kid and his crew, so that should just be a given...

Anyway! Enjoy the first chapter of this fic and let me know what you think!

Synopsis: The Kid Pirates are preparing to dock on an island and "greet" the locals. Little do they know; they'll get more than they bargained for.

The Kid Pirates--A notorious crew of pirates known for their violence and infamy. On this ship, there’s no time for bitching and bellyaching. This crew of pirates, led by the ever violent and bloodthirsty Eustass “Captain” Kid, didn’t take just anyone on board with them. To hang with these guys, you had to be tough. In fact, tougher than tough. Thankfully, that’s no problem for me.

I’m Bellatrix Quinn, but I go by Bella. I'm one of the few people bold enough to board the Victoria Punk and survive. I make the majority of the weaponry Kid and the crew use. I make guns, knives, swords, and gauntlets to name a few. The only disadvantage of my job is that I'm always up to my ears in repairs. If not one thing, then another.

But that's to be expected. This crew is largely made up of men, but there are a few women on it. Hip, Hop, House, Dive, Quincy, Emma and I are the only girls on this sausage fest of a ship. I love them all to death, but if Quincy doesn't give my bra back-- Okay, I'm off topic.

Anyway, I don't want anyone to think I'm ungrateful. I'm damn grateful to the crew, especially Kid, for taking me in. He didn't have to save my ass like that. I'll be the first to admit that I was in pretty bad shape when they found me. If they hadn’t taken me in, then…

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Ayo! Bella!” The loud gruff voice of my captain broke me from my thoughts. “You in there?”

“Yeah.” I hollered back, putting my wrench down on the table. 

The door opened and a fiery red-haired man with a large imposing stature and a large metal arm walked up to the work bench.

“Arm giving you fits again?” He said, looking down at my smaller metal arm.

“Nah, a screw or bolt or something is loose.” I said squinting as I aimed the wrench at my arm. “I just can’t find which one it is.”

“Lemme see it.” He crouched beside me and took my wrench. “While I’m fixing you up again, I’ll let ya know what’s going down.” He took my arm and sat it on his lap. “We’re stopping at an island a little North of here. Killer says there’s a family there rich beyond your wildest belief.” He examined my arm and began to tighten a screw. “We’ll stop by, rob ‘em blind, and be outta there by morning.” He let go of my arm. “How does that feel?”

I move my fingers and nod. “Feels good as new. How much supply do you reckon we’ll need?”

Kid shrugged and gestured with his hand. “At least one sword and one gun for everyone here. Wouldn’t hurt to have backups, but your shit don’t break easily.”

I smirk. “They’d hold up a lot better if ya’ll weren’t hell on them.”

Kid raises an eyebrow at me. “Watch it, Bell. Mouth off again and I’ll throw you back in the sea.”

“Oooo, I love a good swim.” I smirk wickedly at him and giggle. “How far are we from the island?”

Kid scoffs at me. “We’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I go over to the weapons closet. “See ya on the deck!”

After getting a box of firearms and swords, I make my way up to the deck of the Victoria Punk. I set the boxes down, crawl up onto one, and sit down. I scan the crew, looking for House, Emma, or one of the girls. I mostly see the guys sitting around playing cards or chatting away. Where the hell are they, dammit? I look across the deck and see Kid standing at the ship's bow. I imagine he's sporting that devilish grin of his.

I feel someone tap on my shoulder. I turn over and smile. “Oh, hey Killer.” 

"Hey Bella, how's your eye?"  He gestures to his left eye. I gently touch my right eye. I went a little crazy during a fight with another crew. To put it simply, I am nearly blind in one eye and had to cut my hair off to save my skin.

“It’s fine. It’s healing pretty well, actually.”

"Good to hear. Take care of yourself today." Killer said and began to walk away. He's a pretty nice guy. He makes sure we all keep our shit straight. He's even pretty good at keeping the captain reigned in. He's kept Kid from dragging us into the belly of the beast more times than one. I'm glad he's here, because God knows he won't listen to any of us!  

“Bella! Shit, there you are!” A girl with silver-blue hair came trotting up to me. 

I turned around, hopped down from the boxes, and grinned at her. “There I am? House, I’ve been looking for you for the past 30 minutes!”

“Oh, lay off, Bella Quinn,” House rolled her eyes. “I had to get the sick bay ready and it’s not my fault you practically live in that stupid workshop!”

“I don’t live in the workroom!” Well...she’s kinda right. I'm always behind on repairs, trying to finish weapon blueprints, or designing new ones. I barely leave the workshop to eat, let alone sleep!  Luckily, Kid has a trundle bed in the shop, so I'm not sleeping on the floor.

House crossed her arms at me. “Oh yeah? I bet 50 berri you won’t be in your own bed tonight.”

I chuckle deeply. “That’s all I have to do? Sleep in my own bed? That’s easy!”

“Yeah, in your own bed and not someone else’s…” House smirked at me wickedly, glancing over towards the bow of the ship.

I blush darkly. "That was one time, and nothing happened!" I might as well tell you my dirty little secret. I was up late, playing poker with Killer, Kid, and some of the other crew. I was on a losing streak and drank entirely too much. The next morning, I woke up in Kid's bed, with him snoring in my ear and nearly shoving me against the wall. Quincy, I swear to God, your ass is grass!

“Alright, listen up!” 

Speak of the Devil. 

House and I turn around to see Kid standing in the middle of a small crowd that’s begun to form around him. It’s go time.

“This job should be simple for you bunch of idiots. If you need a new weapon, go get one from Bella. She’s got a whole box of ‘em over there! Now, I don’t want any damn excuses! Let’s go in there and kick their asses!”

The crew cheers, and I smirk slightly. Sailing on the open sea is nice, but I've been itching for a good fight. It's been a long time since I've fought someone worth a shit. It'll feel great to get out there and start raising hell again!

The ship docks at the harbor, and we all start filing off. I can feel adrenaline rushing through my veins. 

Let’s kick some ass!

Thank you for reading! Please let know what you think and leave any comments or questions you may have!

[hms-tardimpala]

So now that I'm reading spn fic regularly, I have spotted my characterization pet peeves, and they are sadly very common:

Apologetic pathetic sad wet little meow meow Cas. Look, I know he has pathetic moments and he's apologetic sometimes in canon but come on. He's not human! He's an immense being of pure power shoehorn-squashed into a human enveloppe. He's a cunt to Sam (and pretty much anyone besides Dean), he doesn't ask for permission before cutting his friend's palm open for a blood spell, he has a thousand things going on at all times, he ghosts his friends for months, he resorts to torture easily. He's a war criminal! He's interesting.

Frantic gay panic Dean. Internal monologues of Dean freaking out and bellyaching about his feelings. I know a lot of the fandom has fallen for the front the character puts up in this case, but Dean's been shown to be very in touch with his feelings from the get-go. He knows himself through and through. He may not be comfortable with what he thinks or what he feels sometimes, but he's able to either talk about it or file it away and be functional when it happens. He doesn't bemoan and wring his hands.

One-dimensional sassy self-satisfied prim and proper Sam. I'm not saying he can't be the comic relief, but come on, the guy has grit. He's a blood addict, a power junkie, he's prideful, he hates himself so much he tried to purify himself (via self-harm) for a whole season and still didn't feel clean by the end of it. He's a control freak. He's a bitch! He fucks monsters!

Rowena when she's just her accent.

Basically I don't like it when they're smoothed down and de-fanged.

[philosophicalparadox]

You know, being a Selective Shipper almost sucks sometimes.

Like, I can like or enjoy nearly any ship if it’s done in a certain way, dependent on the answer to these questions:

Do they make sense? As in, is their dynamic interesting? I honestly don’t care about compatibility, it ain’t about that, I want them to be interesting

What’s the context? AU can be done beautifully but I typically don’t like them because they like to throw context out the window. Which is fine if you’re just there for the ship. But I want to know how they happened too. It’s why I perpetually seem to write slow burns lol I gotta know the why with the what. (Horny self indulgent oneshots notwithstanding)

Could there be a canon-flavored explanation for this? Meaning, basically, does this work as a plausible canon divergence, or is it canon-AU? I can vibe with either if the writer is honest about it, but tend to favor divergence just because of ND brain inertia.

Is this ship going to put me in a bad emotional/mental place? Note, I do not one iota care whether a ship is “problematic”. But certain kinks are deeply Squick to me, (actual torture, as an example) and certain pairings are very not my cup of tea for dynamic or emotional reasons (parent/child pairings, for example, though incest in general does not deter me at all so antis take note)

Are they reasonably in character for the situation? THIS. It’s entirely personal to me, but unless the OOC is justified by circumstances presented in the fic or other medium, I find it really hard to hang on to the plot no matter how interesting. Now, as stated, if the OOC-ness is itself plot specific, that’s entirely different. I am all for “what would it take to get them to act like this?” Situations. They’re among my favorite. It’s when there’s no context for the weirdness that I get turned off to it.

Similar to that, and tying this all up, the question of “what would make them not work for each other”? I usually take this quibble with a pinch of salt, (see the “idc about problematic designations” above) BUT there are sometimes circumstances presented in canon that make particular characterizations off-putting or unrealistic but also certain ships or dynamics. Say character A has been traumatized by war. It makes total sense that they’d be drawn to character B who is a combat vet and would know some things. What ceases to make sense is to turn character A into a pro-war personality for the sake of that particular ship. Or, if character C was deeply and seriously traumatized by character D in canon, then I’m going to want some kind of explanation for why they’re working in your story despite everything to the contrary. Sometimes canon actually supplies answers to that question, in which case I have no problem. It’s when there’s an absence of any evidence that they’d ever even like each other that I kind of intellectually expect an explanation.

Now these are all just my opinions and the point I am making is that it almost does not matter what the ship is to me at all as long as it hits on at least most of the above points.

And that it actually really SUCKS because it strips away my enjoyment of a LOT of fan works in particular fandoms, especially big fandoms. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with making art however you like, and I am not saying that it is, thank you. Write that coffee shop AU. Make a high school or college or other AU. Write that weird crazy absolutely insane crackship with no canon bearing whatsoever. Write the things that help you heal, or make you squeal, whatever. I don’t really care. If I don’t like it I don’t read it (except in very rare circumstances where I’m trying to conquer an illogical aversion I have to the concept of something, but that’s a me thing and it’s never anyone else’s problem)

I’m only bellyaching and Le Sigh-ing about the fact I have to write/make more than I can read I guess. It’s exhausting in a way to have such niche yet broad interests at the exact same time. One shots are nice but they don’t fill the void in my fangirl soul the way a well structured narrative that addresses these questions does..

Le-sigh.