#but just imagine her dumping him leaves him so broken that he just decides if he’s gonna give his heart to anyone

[xbomboi]

i know there’s a case to be made for daring suffering some character flanderization in his later appearances, but i like to think the break up with lizzie was just THAT bad.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Can you do a Yan! Burning Spice x Golden Cheese one-shot?

It's okay if you don't want to.

I was going to save this for a later date (and also direct you to my fics on AO3, there's plenty of Yandere Spice in those lol)... BUT SINCE DEVSISTERS DECIDED TO JUST GO AHEAD AND DUMP SOME QUALITY MATERIAL INTO MY LAP, I'LL TAKE THE COSMIC HINT AND DO IT TODAY! This one's for you, Anon! You can thank that extremely suspicious trailer for this!

"Mine Forever More" - BurningCheese Short Story #5

WARNING: This is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice, with Obsessive, Possessive, Yandere-esque Burning Spice. This is not like the other wholesome shorts with the budding romance and cute bickering, Burning Spice is a sick and dangerous man in this one. I politely demand that only adults read this one, please and thank you.

Cold... Why is it cold...? Cold and damp... Where...?

Both light and shadow flickered and danced across Golden Cheese's vision as she struggled to remain conscious. She was... being carried. Someone had peeled her off of the ground, plucked her from the blood-soaked dirt in which she lay beaten and broken, and cradled her in their arms as they ventured away from the cliff and off... somewhere. Somewhere... dark. Dark and cold and damp. A far cry from what she'd come to understand this strange place to be.

Someone... No. She knew who it was. She recognized the strong chest her head was being held against. The thick, powerful, tattooed arms enveloping her body, holding her close to his own. Though she couldn't see his face, she nevertheless sensed his fiery eyes staring down at her. Devouring her. Swallowing her whole.

"You disappoint me, little thief," Burning Spice told her. He spoke quietly, with chilling calm; his words were meant for her and no one else. "I expected better from you."

She did not respond. She wouldn't, even if she could. Even if that wretched taste of iron didn't fill her mouth so completely and the skin and flesh of her back weren't on fire.

"I waited for this. For you. For such a long time... You are not weak. You know this, and so do I. Destiny finally arrives for us both... and you choose to turn it away. You devastate me, little thief. Truly."

There was less vitriol in his voice than she imagined there would be. From screaming bloody murder right into her face as she dangled from a cliff, to... murmuring to her with such... disappointment, for lack of a better term. Sadness, even, if she dared to read into it any further. Perhaps she'd underestimated his... investment in their duel, after all.

"You're lucky..." he told her. "You are very lucky I care for you. You were wise to have stolen my heart as well as my Soul Jam all those eons ago. I would have drawn and quartered you otherwise."

"Care... for me?" Her voice came as a pained rasp, rising from an aching throat and forcing itself through bloodied lips. "Stolen... your... what...?"

"Of course I do," Burning Spice said - so simply, as if it was a fundamental truth of the world. "Would I have dedicated so much of myself to you if I did not? To hunting you? To our battle? Do you think you would be here now, safe in my arms as I carry you to your shelter, if I did not care for you?"

"Shelter...?"

At the cost of a worsened migraine, Golden Cheese opened her eyes wider and focused, scanning her surroundings the best she could. Torches hanging on the walls - the only true sources of light, as far as she could tell. A long, dark corridor. Walls of cool, jagged rock, all dyed deep blues and purples and reds. Dark. Cold. Damp.

A cave... No. Worse. A dungeon.

"Of course," Burning Spice said again. "It wouldn't do to leave you by the cliff, now would it?"

"But-" She coughed harshly. Little droplets of blood splattered onto Burning Spice's chest. She felt him tense instantly, his grip on her tightening. He held her up higher, bringer her head closer to his face... and she felt him lean down and... nuzzle his face into her hair...?

"Hush," he murmured. "We're almost there."

She did not hush. "Why..." Another harsh cough. Another tight, instinctive squeeze that accidentally (or was it?) agitated her aching wounds. Something wet and surprisingly soft pressing into her forehead. A gesture she knew of, one meant to be comforting... but how could he give this to her? Why?

"W-why... why didn't you kill me?" she finally managed to get out. "I don't... understand... Not... like you."

"'Not like you'? You claim to know me so well, pretty bird? I'm flattered." She could hear the teasing smile he wore as he spoke. It made her head ache more. "But if that was true, then you would know why I didn't kill you."

She shook her head weakly. He chuckled.

"What would I get out of killing my beloved?" he told her. "You are the woman I've been waiting for. It was you and your image that kept me alive and sane in that prison. That unspoken promise of a great duel, a struggle for power between me and my other half... I am sorely disappointed in your embarrassing loss, my little thief, but not even that is enough to make me want to kill you."

Beloved? Other half? What in the world?

"No... I simply want you, little thief. I wanted our battle. I wanted your eventual defeat. I wanted my Soul Jam... but I want you, too. Desperately."

He was smiling at her. Grinning. Sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. A starving predator, ogling his captured prey.

"I hunger for you, Golden Cheese," he whispered to her. "I craved you from the moment I laid my eyes upon this pretty face of yours. I waited ages for this moment... for the day we could be together at last." He brought a hand to her pretty face, caressing her cheek with startling gentleness. "And you look so beautiful," he purred. "So stunning, even like this... I can see why they called you 'Your Radiance'."

The words 'Your Radiance' made her suddenly jerk up, eyes wide. "M-my treasures," she stuttered. "My kingdom, my- my p-people- I- I must-"

"Ah ah." The loving hand on her cheek quickly morphed into a punishing one, reaching up and yanking hard on her hair, earning Burning Spice a wince and a soft cry of pain. "No more of that," he growled. "No more of them. No more of your so-called treasures. They're gone. Crumbled to dust. It's time you make peace with that, little bird."

"N-no," she said, turning her head just enough to be able to shoot him a weak glare. "Nonsense. They... they're here. They're mine. I... I'll never let you..."

She paused. Suddenly, her eyes widened again. "Smoked Cheese," she said, her face now frantic. "W-where is he? What did you do- mmph!"

Now that hand was clasped over her mouth, silencing her. Squeezing her face, digging its sharp nails into her cheeks.

"Be quiet," Burning Spice hissed at her. "Your precious little pet is following along behind us, chained up by the spice warriors."

He saw her gaze soften. Felt her shoulders sag, if only the slightest bit. She was relieved.

He hated it.

"Why do you still cling to your little possessions?" he asked. "To these worthless creatures? Those hero friends of yours, where are they now? Where were they, when I took your wings from you? Where were they when your precious kingdom fell? Hm?"

She couldn't answer; not with that large hand still covering her mouth. But the pain and sorrow that briefly flashed in her eyes was answer enough for him.

"I am here," he told her. "I have always been here. Through our Soul Jam in the past, and now standing beside you in the present. In the aftermath of your near-death. Is Smoked Cheese cradling you in his arms while you can't stand on your own? Is Smoked Cheese graciously taking you into his house and home? Is Smoked Cheese willing to look past this act of grand larceny and keep you by his side, for he's come to value you just as much as what you stole from him?"

The visceral hatred that dripped from Smoked Cheese's name made her wince. She tried to lift her head again, aiming to peek over Burning Spice's shoulder and at her old friend - but that hand forced her head back down the moment she did so.

"I will make you see," Burning Spice said. "You're a clever woman. You will understand eventually. None of this matters. None of it! My way is the only way that's fair. That's interesting! You will see it, when I raze this miserable world to the ground."

He stopped walking. He finally pulled his hand away, letting her suck in a breath. The air tasted slightly less stale in this spot. A pale light shone in the corner of her eye- from a hole in the ceiling far above, she eventually saw.

This one beam of light, trapped behind thick, iron bars.

Burning Spice stepped aside and allowed the soldiers behind him to take his place before the cell door. It was open with the swift insertion of a key; the loud, shrill screech that came as it scraped along the ground rang in her ears. She saw Smoked Cheese - hurt, but still alive - being ushered into the cell and forced to the ground wordlessly. His eyes were downcast, his mouth set in a deep, tired frown.

"You look displeased," Burning Spice cooed. "I'm well aware of your high standards, greedy bird, but this nest will have to do for now."

She shot another glare at him. Stronger than the last. Had the sight of her friend invigorated her?

"Don't fret, though," he continued. The corners of his lips curled into a sultry, sinister smile. "It won't always be this way."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. What he said next nearly stopped her heart.

"When you recover," he whispered, "I'll bring you to my bed."

So hard and frantic was the roar of her pulse in her ears that she hardly even registered when Burning Spice commanded the soldiers to leave. They did so with a bow; and as they disappeared into the shadows, Burning Spice stepped into the cell and knelt down, holding Golden Cheese in his lap.

"Look at me. Hear my words."

Against her better judgment, she did just that.

"When I'm done with you," he said, "I will wipe everything you ever held dear off the face of the earth."

At this, she tensed up (how enticing to his senses it was, to feel her muscles clench in his grasp). She gave him the harshest look she could muster - and he let her do so, offering a look of smug endearment in return.

"You... will not crush MY treasures," she spat out.

He chuckled. "We'll see about that." Then he leaned down and crushed their lips together.

Burning Spice heard a sharp gasp off somewhere beside him; he looked up and saw Smoked Cheese watching them, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Frozen in place, powerless to save his beloved queen. With or without the chains binding him.

Good.

The corners of Burning Spice's mouth once again curled into a dark smile, and he stared right back at the hooded prisoner as he deepened his and Golden Cheese's kiss. The only resistance she offered came in the form of nails digging into his arm and a gasp as he lapped up the blood on her lips and forced his tongue past them, into her warm, sweet mouth. She tasted delicious. Just as he always knew she would.

When he eventually pulled back, a thin rope of bloody saliva still tethered his tongue to hers. How he hated seeing it break when he put enough distance between them... but it was alright. There will be more opportunities. They had so much lost time to make up for, after all.

"Consider that my payment for allowing this worm to live," he said to her, gesturing dismissively at Smoked Cheese. "And know that I will keep tally of every single day that he continues to do so, and celebrate when he no longer does."

At last, he laid her onto the ground. Slowly. Gently. His final act of mercy on her. On his beaten, broken, beloved Soul Jam thief.

"Sleep well, birdie," he said as he rose to his feet. With a quick heel-turn, he was out of the cell and slamming the door shut. Back to the darkness he returned, out of sight of them both.

"Your Majesty!" Smoked Cheese called to her frantically, finally regaining some of his dignity and willpower and rushing towards her. He knelt down beside her, trembling hands hovering just above her shoulders. "Your Majesty, speak to me!"

She did not. She was beginning to struggle to even parse his words. Exhaustion was taking hold of her at long last.

"What was that?! Why- why did he do that to you?! What nonsense is all of this?!"

She used the last of her strength to grasp at her headdress - at her Soul Jam. Gone. The headdress felt dull and cold. The socket was long empty. When had Burning Spice taken it? How could she have not noticed?

"Your Majesty, you must stay awake. We need to plan our escape. The Beast has gotten hold of the Soul Jam, we must take it back immediately!"

The room looked foggy. Smoked Cheese's features blurred. The light shining down on them began to dim.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty! Golden Cheese!"

The pain and exhaustion became too much, and Golden Cheese's eyes closed, her mind giving way to dizzying blackness.

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

Burning Spice threatened to kill Golden Cheese in front of him if Smoked Cheese made the slightest noise while they journeyed to the prison cell. He was bluffing, of course; he'd never allow his precious golden thief to die. But Smoked Cheese didn't know that. Nor did he need to.

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️ Fifth Course: Watching his delish life in pictures comes with a sense of dread. Isn't it vexing that he's living the life while you're out there vomiting in pungent public restrooms? 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Good 4 U

wc: 543

genre & warnings: angst like yn is really mad lmao, nonidol!san, yn is drunk af, mentions of alcohol and drinking, cursing, lovers to exes, betrayal, mentions of vomit etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

"Y/N, you really should stop drinking excessively y-"

"Shut the fuck up!" you slurred, slumping on the wall of your bathroom and glaring at your ex whom your friends did the honor of calling to get you home safely.

San sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he's had enough of your childish antics. You two have already broken up a few months ago so really, you are not supposed to be his responsibility.

Still, he's not that merciless. He can't just allow you to go home by yourself where potential danger could get you killed. Unless your liver suddenly decides to give up on you.

His kindness does nothing but to further aggregate you, though.

No, not kindness. Consideration.

Yes, that's the right word.

It infuriates you to no end that even in the middle of the night, he comes running to the bar and picks you up to get you to your apartment in one piece.

But what you hated more is seeing him in a state of good life.

After all the shit he's put you through. You're here still suffering the repercussions of his actions while he's out there being happy and lovey-dovey with your former best friend.

Truly a vomit-inducing situation even without the help of alcohol.

Imagine, back then, if you would have known that they'd get together after he dumped you for no reason then you wouldn't have trusted them.

Fucking hell.

It did you no good to remember that shitty place that you promised not to visit ever again. But life ain't that easy, because if it is, then you'd be rich and happily married to the love of your life.

You were snapped out of your maddening stupor when his phone rang, not paying attention as he excused himself and chose to fixate your gaze on the crack of your bathroom floor.

Then again, sometimes, you hear bullshit when you don't need it the most.

He's talking to her. In your house. In a very loving voice. The same tone that he used to utilize whenever he speaks with you, now reserved for someone else.

"Yes baby, I'll be home in a while, okay? Okay. I'll see you later. I love you so much."

Disgusting, vile creatures that are incapable of feeling guilt. Oh, how you wish you could just strike them with thunder so they can finally go to hell, where they can burn together.

"Y/N I will h-"

"Get out here." you mumble lowly, standing up from your position and he frowns.

"What's your problem?" he asks, confused as to why you're acting sober and gloomy.

You laugh weakly, coming closer to him only to push him out of the bathroom, "My problem is none of your business. So, get the hell out of my apartment and do not ever, fucking ever show your face to me again."

You did not give him the chance to reply as you shut the door on his face, your whole body flopping on the cold tiles.

Soon enough, you heard the main door of your apartment close and you can't help but chuckle despite the tears streaming down your face.

It really is not difficult for him to leave you after all.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @xdannix @nsixns @heartssol @vixensss @shakalakaboomboo

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Revelations

Summary: You come back home to a surprising sight.

Pairing: Dave York x fem. Nanny reader / Dave York x his gardener's son

Wordcount: 2.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: infidelity (kind of, Dave and Carol are only married on paper and Carol knows), smut (Oral f + m receiving), m/m bj, m/f, voyeurism, semi public Oral Sex, kitchen sex, some feelings but just a little

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You released your breath with a long sigh, letting you head fall back against the seat of the car that had been provided for you when you had started working for the York household almost eight months ago.

What had started out as a temporary job three times a week to get back on your feet after having been dumped by you boyfriend of six years for his co worker, turned into a full time job you genuinely enjoyed.

It came with all kinds of benefits. 

The car you were currently sitting in, A/C fully on to fight the heatwave currently making the outside into what you imagined hell would feel like. 

A big room with an ensuite bathroom and a walk in closet that was bigger than anything you could have afforded on your own. 

Two adorable kids who made it easy to take care of them. 

Carol, their mother, who had turned more into a friend than a boss. 

And Dave, the father of the kids, husband of Carol. 

The man you had been fucking for almost four months now. 

Now you knew how this would sound for people on the outside. Typical cliché. Starting an affair with the dad. What a cheating slut you are. 

But was it an affair if his wife gave her blessing?

It was almost two months into you working for them that Carol talked to you.

You had just moved into their house after accepting the full time position they had offered you. Carol would be going back to work full time which mean she would travel more, leaving Dave to need more help with the children when he was home. 

It was on the evening before she had to leave for a three day trip that she took you aside and told you about their arrangement. She told you that Dave and her while being high school sweethearts, haven’t been in love for a long time. They were already broken up when Carol found out that she was pregnant and her family, being super traditional demanded for her to either get married or she would be cast out. When Dave found out they had a long talk and decided to get married. After a couple of years they both decided to have another child. But ever since then they were only staying married for the kids and the trust fund of her father she would only get access to if she stayed married. 

You were confused as to why she told you all about this before she said that she had seen you look at Dave and that if something happened between the two of you, your job would not be at stake. She even told you about the man she was seeing for the last couple of months, while you both emptied a bottle of wine. 

It was like a switch had been flipped the next time you saw Dave. 

He had asked you in a minute the two of you had alone if Carol had talked to you and answered every question you had for him about the whole thing. 

It was only two days later that you found yourself pinned against the door of the laundry room, the kids making their homework upstairs as Dave fucked you for the first time. 

There were still times where you felt like this was too good to be true. 

A good paying job you loved, a family that had become yours in the last months and the best sex you ever had in your life all under the same roof. 

You turned off the engine of your car before you got out, taking the groceries you had bought for the rest of the week from the trunk. Alice and Molly were at school and would spend the afternoon at a friends birthday, so you had time off until around 6pm where you had to pick them up. 

Carol was visiting her sister out of state until the end of the following week and Dave was supposed to be back from his work trip tomorrow. 

Which left you with a lot of free time to yourself today, time you intended to use by finally finishing the book you had been reading for the last week and ordering junk food Carol did not want the girls to have. 

Humming to yourself you walked into the house, unloading the groceries on the big kitchen island. You were putting stuff away into the fridge when you noticed the travel mug Dave always took with him standing in the sink. 

You made quick work with putting the rest of the groceries away before you made your way through the house to search for him. His usually locked office door was opened when you walked down the hallway, and you found his laptop bag lying on his desk. 

You chose to ignore the way your heart started beating faster with the promise of seeing Dave being back home sooner than you thought you would. And you definitely chose to ignore the butterflies in your belly as you walked towards his bedroom, only to pout when you found it empty. 

Where was he?

You took a little detour into your room, changing out of your jeans and top into a loose yellow summer dress that almost went down to the floor, intentionally not wearing anything underneath before you continued with your search for the man of the house. 

You checked the living room next, finding it empty too, but the door to the backyard was half open. Remembering that Jackson, the son of the gardener who usually took care of the garden, was here today you thought that maybe Dave got outside to say Hello to him. 

Intending to continue your search outside you walked towards the half opened door when you heard a moan that made you steps falter. 

And it wasn’t a moan out of pain. No. You had heard that moan before. It was Dave and he only ever moaned like that when he had his cock so deep down your throat he was close to cumming. 

Tiptoeing towards the door your eyes widened as you saw Dave standing on the patio with his pants down to his ankles. 

And Jackson, the son of the gardener kneeling in front of him with Dave’s cock in his mouth. You had talked to Jackson the week before when his father brought him with him. He was visiting during his summer break of studying Law at Yale, having just turned 21 and decided to spend his summer break on helping his father out.

You lips parted in surprise, your hands gripping the frame of the patio door as you tried to hide your body inside while your eyes were fixed on the picture in front of you. 

Dave had his hand buried in the young mans hair, his hips slowly thrusting into the gardeners mouth. 

„Relax your throat,“ Dave hummed and you shivered, remembering how he hat uttered the same words to you not too long ago. You heard Jackson gagging as Dave pushed deeper into his mouth, praising the man in front of him with his deep voice. 

Fuck. 

You squeezed your legs together, your pussy already slick with need.

You watched Dave pull his cock out of Jackson mouth, his hand almost gently on his cheek as he rubbed the tip of his cock against the young mans lips. 

„Really wanna cum down your throat. You gonna let me?“ Dave asked and you had to stop yourself from moaning. 

„Yes Mr. York,“ he nodded up at him and Dave smirked darkly before he bend down and kissed him quickly. 

Interesting. Maybe you should try to call him Mr. York too from time to time.

„Oh fuck,“ you whispered, one of your hands running down your body, pulling up your skirt so you could touch yourself. 

You pushed a finger inside of you when Dave’s cock filled the gardener’s mouth. He began to thrust into his mouth, the noises of him fucking himself down his throat pornographic. 

You knew from experience that Dave liked to get messy so it didn’t surprise you when he pulled his cock out to spit into Jackson’s mouth. 

„Buy a plug. Next time you gonna let me fuck your ass,“ Dave said, earning a nod from the man before he pumped his cock back into Jackson’s mouth, now fucking his face. 

You played with your pussy watching him use the man. For some reason you would have never though Dave could also be into men. Then again you didn’t really give much thought to anyones sexual orientation. 

Dave moaned and you knew he was about to cum, seeing him grip Jackson's hair tightly as he thrust his cock down the mans throat. 

Shit, you were about to cum too. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, letting your head fall against the door frame, your eyes closing as you focused on making yourself cum. 

Your eyes opened when Dave groaned, finding him looking at you. He raised his left eyebrow as he looked at you, before he slowly shook his head and you froze, pulling your hand from between your legs immediately at being caught. 

Dave continued to look at you as he came down Jackson’t throat with a low groan, his whole body shuddering. 

„Show me,“ Dave said, his eyes parting from yours to look at the man kneeling in front of him. You couldn’t see him but in the little smirk you saw on Dave’s lips you knew he just showed Dave his cum. 

„Good boy. Now swallow,“ he hummed.

„Perfect. Now I think you have some gardening to finish huh?“ He asked and helped Jackson up. 

You turned away from the door quickly to walk inside before the gardener could catch you standing there. You were sweating, your pussy wet and so damn horny. 

Walking into the kitchen you leaned with your hands resting on the cool marble of the kitchen island, your eyes closed, grounding yourself.  

You heard footsteps behind you, before arms wrapped around you from behind, lips kissing up from your shoulder to your neck. 

„Didn’t think you were into watching,“ Dave hummed and you let your head fall to the side as his lips wandered up your neck. 

„Didn’t think you were into men,“ you smiled and felt him smile against your skin. 

„I’m into anything really as long as it can make me cum,“ he shrugged and you rolled your eyes. 

„Enjoyed the little show?“ He asked. You could only manage a small nod. Dave pulled you up against his chest, both of his hands now squeezing your tits. He pulled at the front of your dress until your tits fell out, his hands immediately back to holding them, his fingers playing with your nipples. 

„Mhhh. Wanted to cum,“ you whimpered, turning your head so you could look at him. 

He continued to play with your tits as he looked down at you. 

„I could see that,“ he grinned before he kissed you. You moaned against his mouth. 

„Want me to eat this little pussy?“ He said and you shook your head. 

„No?“ He asked, surprised 

„Want you to fuck me. Waited two weeks for you Dave,“ you whimpered. 

„Did your little pussy miss me?“ He asked and you nodded. He pouted. 

„Show me,“ he smirked. You turned around as he took a step back, before you grabbed the fabric of your dress, pulling it up. 

„Take it off,“ he said, his dark eyes on you and you did, pulling the dress over your head, leaving you standing completely naked in the kitchen.

„Such an obedient girl for me,“ he praised before he twirled his finger. You understood, slowly twirling your body for him so he could look at you. He stopped you when you were standing with your back to him again, his hands on your hips. Looking over your shoulder you saw him lean down, one of his hand on your back, pushing you down so you leaned with your elbows on the kitchen Island. 

 The next think your felt were his fingers parting your folds. 

„Bet I could just push my cock inside this pussy and she’d take me, huh?“ He asked and you whined. 

„Yes, Dave. Please fuck me,“ you pleaded desperate. 

„I will. But I just came. Gonna need a while,“ he said and you sighed disappointed .

„Doesn’t mean I can’t make this little pussy cum now, does it?“ He said before you felt his tongue lick a strip from your clit up to your ass, making you moan.

„Please Dave,“ you whimpered. 

„Best fucking pussy I ever had,“ he hummed before he got to work. Playing with you like he was born for it, humming against you like you were the most delicious meal he ever had. He flicked his tongue over your clit before he pushed his tongue as deep inside of you as he could, his hands pulling you open for him.

„Shit, Dave…“ you moaned and he slapped your ass. 

He had you back close to an orgasm in no time, your legs shaking as he devoured you from behind. 

„Thought about this the whole time I was away. Perfect fucking pussy,“ he hummed, two of his fingers entering you without any resistance, Dave’s fingertips immediately finding that spot inside of you that made you see stars, playing with it. 

„You gonna cum for me?“ He asked and you only cried out a weak yes before you came, your pussy clenching his fingers as you rode out your orgasm. 

You moaned when his fingers pulled out and his tongue coming back to clean you up. He helped you up once he was finished, turning you around, his arms pulling you against his chest as he held you. 

Smiling dreamily and satisfied up at him you crossed your hands behind his neck, pulling him down towards you so you could kiss him. 

„I did miss more than just your pussy for the record,“ he said and you smiled. 

„I’m glad it’s not just my pussy then,“ you winked and he chuckled. 

You felt his cock twitch against you and you sucked your bottom lip in. 

„I have a question,“ you said and he nodded. 

„Before outside…. You liked when he called you Mr. York,“ you began and you saw his jaw twitch. 

„Yeah,“ he said and you nodded. 

„Do you want me to call you that too sometimes?“ You asked. 

„If you want to…“ he said and you nodded as if in deep thought before you grinned up at him. 

„Do you…. Do you wanna cum in my pussy next, Mr. York?“

[zeep-xanflorp]

rambling about the rick-unity-wong talk bc i'm upset about it

r: look, it's clear you weren't lying when you said you could've taken over earth because your finger just took over america. i need you to help me fix that.

u: oh, it took that to make you believe me?

r: why should i believe you? you show up unannounced and hijack a state.

u: i called you! multiple times! you ghosted me.

so there are two ways i think you can read rick not believing unity. one is that he believed it was trying anything to stay in proximity to rick even though he was asserting boundaries, or two, he did actually believe it but wanted to deal with the situation on his own or just wanted it gone. either way, he didn't want to be around it.

then there's the part about rick ghosting it. like okay yes. unity tried giving rick a heads up but the fact is that it knew rick wasn't answering its calls. it Knew rick wouldn't know it was there unless it made a big deal about it being there and that's what it did. it literally showed up without permission and assimilated a whole state on rick's home planet, in rick's country. just to get his attention.

w: rick, is that true?

r: she dumped me. why would i answer her calls?

and now we get a blatant explanation for why rick was ignoring unity. i imagine it would've been clear enough anyway without this explanation but rick is still upset from being broken up with. so he decided to ghost it with no explanation, cutting it off entirely.

w: alright, i'm going to commit a cardinal sin in couples therapy here, but rick, i think you're wrong. [..] you had an outer-space lady who was worried for your life and your response was hostile enough to cause a huge problem.

u: thank you.

w: now you're asking her to both forgive you and solve it?

now, the mistake wong makes here is assuming she knows the full story. obviously she's smart and i think she gave her best analysis based on what she knows of the situation, but in her ignorance she fails to listen to rick, her patient.

the whole theme of this episode is rick asserting his boundaries. he doesn't want to see unity because last time he did it ended catastrophically for him. he's not ignoring it out of pettiness but as a defence mechanism. a coping strategy. and when it decided to follow through with its plan of coming to america anyway, destroying the boundaries rick had in place, it made him lash out.

rick also has a tendency to self sabotage when things are going well for him, whether he realises it or not. he abuses morty when they get too close. he made unity party with him instead of doing its duties. his actions push people away, keeping them at arms length.

i believe his boundaries are in place to prevent these episodes of self sabotage. so when they get ignored and discarded, he goes back into that mindset.

and wong, who would be aware of this at least vaguely, blames unity's actions on rick ignoring it which is not fair in the slightest imo.

w: unity, i think the reason rick brought me here is that he doesn't know how to indicate to you he's changed. because he's changing very slowly. but he is.

now this is something i had trouble understanding bc i am a shameful rick apologist at the best of times and couldn't remember what he actually did wrong. his crime in this instance was when he was distracting unity from its work, influencing it to drink and party all the time and avoid its responsibilities. this became too much for it, especially when it saw how rick used the same methods to detach himself from his family.

so it broke up with him, leaving him to spiral into the worst mental state we as the audience have personally seen him in in present day - his suicide attempt. unity doesn't know about that, and i'm guessing wong doesn't either, because all rick needed to say to wong was that their breakup ended horribly for him so being around it is difficult for him and maybe she would've understood more. but no that's too much vulnerability for old man sanchez.

rick has changed since then. i imagine he better understands why unity left him. i also think he knows that it wants the best for him but struggles with accepting that. that's what led to this mess of a situation.

he feels hurt from being abandoned. it feels hurt that rick couldn't understand why it left. and all of this culminated in a messy situation where unity acted drastically to get rick's attention, and rick in his stubbornness and pain refused to accept it.

and so. i think wong spoke too quickly. i think she definitely knows rick's patterns and is right to call him out but made an unfair judgement on only him because even she expects the worst from him. he is changing, but she is encouraging unity not to give him a second chance because he's not there yet. when really that decision should be up to unity.

even though it does take agency at the end. after unity releases america from its hold, we get this absolutely heartbreaking scene between it and rick.

r: i trust you now.

u: that's nice. but i don't trust you.

unity turns rick's lack of trust in it back at him, and it's telling the truth. it feels betrayed by rick's actions in this episode because it only wanted to make sure rick was alright. to it, rick seems to be punishing unity for caring about him.

anyway in conclusion. rick is mentally ill, wong was a little too harsh on him in this episode bc it's a complex situation, and unity will act drastically if it can't get rick's attention. it's unfair to blame it all on rick in this case (even though things are normally his fault) bc while he did act immaturely in response, he wasn't the only one that escalated the conflict so drastically.

this is not a refined analysis. i might fix it later but no promises.

[mamiya-a]

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 8: Puppet

Summary:

Wrong person - right affection.

You no longer dream. 

The lucid images and scenes that appear in your mind every night cannot be described as such things. Dreams are meant to be a fantasy, fiction, something so unreal - it's only possible to happen inside someone's imagination. 

Dreams do have meanings , however they are not a life changing matter. They shouldn't be. 

You've gone through a lot of different scenarios, masked as at first sight insignificant looking events, during your stay in the mansion. You quickly got used to nightmares, to weird points of views that changed along with the inexplicable cases in your head , featuring memories and people you have long forgotten about.

 You even adapted to your imaginary Miranda panting under you right before her strong, clawled hands decide they are too bored to just hold onto you, a little cut here and there merging with the smell of your crimson blood excited them. Whenever she appears in your dreams - she always kills you , switching the enjoyable experience to a nightmare. 

The realness of those 'dreams' is way too great to be called fiction. All those faces , places , animals , gestures , bodies , sounds ,everything feels like a completely different universe. One that it's only yours to command, as it happens within your head. 

Manipulation it for your benefits might break this strange world. That's why you gave up the first time you tried to control it. 

Slowly you got used to everything - from pain to pleasure, from blood to tears , from fear to tranquility. There's one thing that started to appear more often recently, and it confuses you, but you can't say you're triggered by its presence. It's bizarre, yet amiable. 

The deer. 

Everytime it shows up, even during your current dream, it's always the same scenario - you stare at it , and the animal does not move , its eyes remaining fixed on you. Those dark, blue eyes with the little hint of golden yellow and furious red shining in them. 

They say universes can change when eyes meet up, worlds can break. Mind , sanity and soul can disappear, leaving only a fragile body on the empty road. 

You know the deer is harmless, but you fear it. Yet still you take a step closer , feeling its attraction fall upon you. You admire it , you desire it. 

You chase after it , in search for desperate comfort. Especially now that you're left with a heart, broken and wounded , crying with bloody tears of jealousy. 

You curl up in front of the animal that kindly welcomes you. It doesn't take you long to completely lay down on the pavement , feeling its shadow hoovering over you. 

Deers are a symbol of gentleness, safety, wisdom , innocence and protection. You can't help but seek all of that at such vulnerable moment for you. And your desires are fulfilled, for a while. 

But then comes the loud screeching of tires and the car that kills all of your peace.

***** 

Philip is a long lost cause. Your breakup was expected. Maybe the only surprising part about what happened is that you dumped him , and not the opposite way around. 

He has always been more controlling, mean and unbothered. From time to time you felt like a puppet in his hands. But fooled by old , happy memories from when you were young and in love, you never actually dared to leave him. Until now. 

For you, him cheating again was the last straw. 

However you don't feel sadness. In fact, this new kind of feeling fills your soul with heavenly comfort. Freedom, of him , of this awful relationship. 

You can't say you're happy neither. Relieved for sure but not entirely pleased. You're neutral, for now. Yet, as days go on and on more thoughts about him begin to wander in your head and you start to wonder if you have made a mistake. 

You truly need a distraction.

.

.

.

You don't know which god exactly heard your silent prayers for something different from the boring mansion, but you're happy your needs have been answered. 

You can't even hide your smile as Miranda walks down the stairs, fully dressed in her formal clothing. A fine , tight , black dress , aesthetically decorated with feathers around the shoulders, golden jewelry illuminating her tender skin around the neck , wrists, fingers and ears. 

Her heels drag along the floor , making light tapping noises with every step , with such shoes she stans even taller than she already is. She runs her fingers through her hair , which is carefully swiped back , leaving only a few golden strings to wander in front of her face , as she takes her place right next to you. 

Miranda going out for work always means a bit calmer house to work with as the kids tend to listen to you more when their mother isn't around and they don't have someone to complain to. 

But tonight is different. Even her daughters won't be home. Which means you'll have the whole mansion for yourself. Finally a break , alone with yourself yet again. 

"Where exactly am i supposed to take them to again?" - you ask , a smile still very visible on your face, while you extend a hand for Miranda to hold onto as she bends down to fix her heel. The action happens fast and surprisingly casual. 

"To their aunt's house" - she explains , huffing annoyingly when a big portion of her hair falls around her shoulder, limiting a part of her vision in the process. Looking closely you notice how long and beautiful her hair looks, you even start to wonder if it will be as soft to the touch as you Imagen it to be. 

In the distance, the two girls giggle together, too exited they are going to the said place. You find yourself eager to go as well. 

"You have a sister?" - Miranda has never mentioned any family members before. It's always she and her daughters.

"No. We're not related" - she's finally done with her heels , the grip on your hand disappears as she straightenes her back , fixing her hair in the process - "i just call her that , she's more of a... friend" 

"Like a best friend, perhaps?" - it's kind of weird imagining Miranda being social, but hey everybody can find their platonic soulmate out there. She laughs in return. 

"She's a mother herself , that's why i trust her enough to send my daughters to her" - she fixes the bracelets around her wrists - "however our kids can be portrayed as good friends, indeed" 

"I'm assuming you often allow them to have sleepovers ,then?" - it's nice knowing those poor kinds still manage to get out of the mansion at least for a while. 

"When I'm busy, yes" - Miranda isn't very talkative before going out for her work duties, as if the whole world is forcing her to do so , so you don't get as offended as you once did over her slightly colder tone. 

"Is her house far or...?" - the realisation that you have no idea where exactly you're supposed to take the kids to hits your hard just as the girls enter the room , already dressed to go , with theirs needed stuff carefully put in their little backpacks.

Miranda also acknowledges that you're not a mage and you can't read minds, plus she never actually told you where you need to drive the kids to. She silence her inner voices who try to snap at you for asking her this ridiculous question. Instead she turns to you with a forced smile. 

"I'll make sure to send you a location" - she tugs on her sleeve , unsurely looking around, as if she's trying to think of something to say, finally she returns her attention back to you- "remember to lock the doors when you return."

"I know what to do , I'm not-"

"Bye bye, mommy!" - Eva interrupts you, impatient to finally leave. Miranda has to physically pull the back of her collar just to bring the girl back to her. She only manages to blink before finding herself in her mother's embrace. 

"Send greetings from me to Alcina, will you?" - Eva quickly nods , moving fast to escape Miranda's grip. She laughs, then turns to her other daughter, gently caressing her soft, black hair. 

"Take care of your sister, Evie" - the older girl assures her she will, winning a truthful smile from her mother. Then they both run outside, eagerly waiting in front of your car , leaving you alone with Miranda. 

"I'll be back late , don't wait for me" - you don't have time to wish her a good evening or say anything at all in return as the blonde woman leaves the mansion with rapid steps , waves goodbye to her children and gets in her own car, before driving far away. 

***** 

The car trip isn't long , though you can't exactly say you didn't get tired of driving. The old roads always exhausted you. But the location Miranda sent you is even worse because judging by the online map - the place you needed to be is high in the mountains. So naturally the path to it is more than shitty. 

The girls adore music, that's a thing you discovered while driving with them on the backseat. And strange enough they very much liked almost each one of your favourite songs. 

A little bonding session with them is something you'd never want to miss , especially with Eva. So you enjoyed the time you spent together in poorly singing lyrics along with the tempo of the music. 

Now that you've had entered a thich forest at the base of the mountains the day changes to mid afternoon, the weather is naturally colder while the sky is a bit darker. You try your best to follow the narrow roads up fast enough before any of the girls with you decide to take a little nap in your car. Your plan is to drop them off and return back to the mansion as fast as possible.

"Are we there yet?" - Eveline asks , maybe for the hundredth time. 

"Almost there, sweetie, be patient."

"I can't wait to see the sisters!" - Eva exclaims , visibly excited - "you know that Dani promised me tons of chocolate last time?" 

"Will her mother allow it?" - the black haired girl raises an eyebrow. 

"She doesn't have to know, silly!" 

You smile while listening to their conversations, deciding it's not the time or place to join into them. Currently your job required you to safely deliver them into this Alcina's person hands. 

"Is this the place?" - you ask them unsurely, after a right turn that reveals an enormous looking estate, that is just ...wow. 

You know Miranda is filthy rich but her so called friend is on a whole other level. In front of you stays not an ordinary house, or a mansion close to Miranda's, no. This woman's home is a whole, medieval looking castle. 

It’s large ,devine , even a little ominous, but the main word you would use to described is is definitely powerful. Its walls stand tall, grey, covered in limestones. Roof black as the night, illuminated by the silver moon and topped with a set of towering chimneys and spires.

There are many vines and thorn bushes growing in and around the foundation of the castle, making it look uninhabitable. The land that surrounds the castle is covered in a dense forest, mostly conifers and dark trees , on the ground around it you can still spot petite stacks of snow, as the castle is standing on a top of a mountain after all. 

"Yes!" - one of the girls answers your long forgotten question - "we're finally here , let's go!" 

The backdoors of the car open before you can realise the girls are already running to the castle and you're forced to quickly follow after them, not forgetting to grad their luggage in the process, though it makes it harder for you to catch up with them. 

The entrance doors are from heavy wrought iron, covered in various rust designs and symbols. Tall ,old and heavy they look like they’ve been there through centuries, the cold from outside seeping into the front hall when they’re opened, as a few visible damage defects are sure to catch the eye. Overall the doors surely add to the castle aesthetic. 

Especially when they open on their own. Creepy. The scratchy sound makes your ears itch and your body immediately tenses. The girls , on the other hand, seem unbothered. They've been here countless of times, of course. 

They run inside, easily making their way in the labyrinth of rooms while you nervously chase after them. For a moment you loose them and you begin to spin , wondering in which direction they exactly went. And then you spot them in the room right in from of you. 

You dash forward, past the doorframe, urging to get to them. Without realising you bump into something hard , not something but someone. Not an ordinary person on top of that. 

"I'm so sorry, i-" - the words die in your throat as you look up , finding it difficult to keep your mouth from opening, from both suprise and excitement. 

And you thought Miranda is tall. The woman in front of you stands one ot two head taller than the her , a ridiculous height. The black dress she's wearing fits her body perfectly while at the same time it matches with her raven hair , carefully styled in large curls , hidden beneath a fashionable hat. A few strings of white shine between her dark hair , adding to her middle aged looking face. She might be old but by all means she's eternally beautiful. 

"Already feeling intimidated, aren't you?" - her voice is deep , strong and demanding. You can't help but clench your jaw. 

"You're just a little" - you clear your throat, your hand resting on top of your chest - "...a little tall, that's it" 

"I've been taller, I've been scarier, I've been more powerful..." - she whispers the last bit while her eyebrows furrow , her expression of anger is rather unsettling , especially when part of her sharp teeth shime beneath her forced smile - "who might you be , girl?" 

"Miranda's new babysitter" - you present yourself, offering your hand for her to shake. You are surprised when she actually does it , as you're used to that gesture of yours to be ignored. 

"The name's Alcina Dimitrescu" - everything about her screams 'power' , starting with her large , strong arms that could completely devour yours and ending with the volume of her voice as she pronounces her name out loud - "I'm The Lady of this castle." 

.

.

.

Three daughters. Bela , Cassandra and Daniela. At first sight they look very similar, like twins. But a closer observation in their features , bodies and mostly different hair colours hints that they are probably sisters , not related by blood. 

That's not a thing that bothers you though. As long as they keep Miranda's daughters entertained and safe in their shared games. You find it amusing how despite the difference in their age, the ground of girls still manage to find a common way of interacting with each other. 

As by doing so , they left you alone with their mother. Alcina is a calm woman , yet something in the way she measures you up and down with her burning gaze makes your body tense. 

"I find it interesting how and why Miranda decided to hire you" - she begins to rant , bringing one of the two cups , filled with warm tea , she played on the table in front of you not so long ago - "she's not the type of woman to willingly search for help" 

"Well i-"

"Especially when it comes to her children" - she lifts a finger to show you she's not finished, silencing you completely - "so why now?" 

"Her job keeps her busy" - you quickly answer, pulling on the fabric of your jeans. 

"She's always busy" - she scoffs - "however I'm certain that wasn't much of a problem for her , until now , of course. Why?" 

"I have no idea" - you tend to talk rapidly when you're nervous, it's a normal thing for you but for the formal lady it's something ill mannered. 

Alcina hums , then lifts a hand to fix her hair. 

"Miranda has grown to be more tolerant with people around her" - she speaks as if the blonde woman is someone she knows by heart, judging by what you know about their relationship - you trust her - "but i haven't. Dare you harm her or her daughters in any way , I'm make sure you deeply regret it" 

Your tea has gone cold because you refuse to drink it, afraid to accept something offered by the woman who so openly threatens you. 

"Are you close with her?" - your curiosity makes her tilt her head to a side with a lifted eyebrow - "if you defend her so intensely?" 

"I owe her a lot" - simple said , but not enough to unravel the truth you seek. 

"How come?" 

"Mother Miranda has done countless of helpful things for me and my daughters , I can't help but...admire her , strongly." 

You nod your head , hearing a somehow decent answer. Then your eyebrows furrow , at the exact moment as the woman's mouth opens wide , shock trembling in both your eyes. 

"Excuse me?" - you succeed to talk first - "did you say 'mother'?"

Miranda said they aren't related and you're sure their ages can't be placed in a timeline where Alcina is another daughter of hers. It's impossible. 

"I do apologise" - the older woman stands up and pats the fabric of her dress - "it's an old habit of mine to call her that" 

In what way is this normal? You know very well Miranda is not a saint, especially after going through her chats with Mia but her relationship with the lady of the castle can't be another one of her playful roleplays now , can't it? 

If anything it's awfully weird and fucked up. 

"I don't seem to get your point here" - you choke out a laugh - "what do you mean by old habit?" 

"Curious, little thing" - Alcina whispers before slowly walking to a close by cabinet, with its doors opened the inside reveals to be filled with large bottles of wine - "it's not my right to tell you" 

"Tell me what?" - you try your best to be respectful but she makes it hard to do so - "Explain!" 

She blinks once after your shouting over her , then again, as her lips form a smile. 

"I really have no idea how she deals with that attitude" - Alcina shoves a heavy bottle of wine in your hands , while gently grabbing your shoulder, which allows her to guide or more like force you out of the room - "however i know it has no place in my home" 

"What?" - cold air hits your face and you realise you're currently standing at the main entrance of the castle. 

"Leave , now" - she's finally done pushing you out of the door , and you turn to her , awfully confused, yet still holding the bottle in your hands like a baby - "make sure to deliver the wine to Miranda in perfect condition, she loves that sort" 

With that the doors shuts closed right in front of your face. The fast clicking sounds behind it confirm that it now locked , which means you have no way in going into the castle again. 

With nothing left to do anymore, you turn around and start walking to your car. 

You've felt rage before, but not as strongly as you're currently experiencing it. It builds within your body with every step. And it stays as you start driving or even after you find yourself in Miranda's mansion again , alone. 

***** 

Two whole cups from the wine Alcina gave you are enough to make you lay down on the comfortable sofa in the living room. Your back presses to the soft pillows behind you and you allow yourself to relax. 

To sleep. You desire to sleep forever. 

You groan as you push yourself up again, heading to pour another glass of the delicious red wine. Like hell you're giving it to Miranda. 

You're so sick of the unhinged bullshit going on around you. No wonder Alcina is Miranda's friends. Both of these women are not sane in the head. And it seems like they are trying to drag you down into their madness as well. You will not allow such thing. 

Maybe a third cup is a bit much for you. Dizziness begins to travel through your veins, making its way up to your already foggy mind. Left alone with your thoughts you have no choice but to loose yourself into them. 

And just like that your now ex boyfriend hops into your head. He's not there not be missed, though. 

You were never very keen on kissing with Philip. He was always too rough when you needed him to be gentle and always too soft when you needed him badly. He was never enough. 

In your imagination he is a good kisser. And he knows exactly how you like to be touched, where you like his hands to be and in what kind of way he should talk. In your head he's perfect. 

You think of him guiding your hands down your body with his own , past your stomach, beneath your jeans and later on underwear. 

Real or made up , Philip was never able to make your heart beat as fast as it's currently going. That's because you're not imagining Philip at all. 

You don't feel embarrassed when Miranda's face appears in front of you. It's not the first time she's to show up in your head anyway. She's a local guest in your dreams after all. 

Emotionless and casual, there's no shame in you imagining her. If she can get you off , she's more than welcome. You decide to start the scenario like usual. 

As your hand starts to pull the strings of pleasure from between your legs ,you close your eyes and get comfortable on the sofa. 

Your imaginary Miranda is suddenly flipped on her bare back under you. She has that playful smile glued on her face like always. You claim her lips like they belong to you. 

It's fun to position her like that because in reality you know she's a very dominant woman so you'll never actually get the chance to be on top of her like that. 

Your hips rolls against hers and she lets out the same low pitched volume moan as you heard her do in that dark video from her shared chat with the mysterious woman. You're enchanted by that sound. You want to hear more. So you grind even harder against her , too mad to admit you'd love to hear her scream. 

The wine is showing it's effect as your real hands begin to move faster, busy rubbing circles on your clit , while your imaginary ones wrap around the base of Miranda's neck , following her own suggestion - for you to choke her with your bare hands. To death.

Even though you can't stand her awful staring her eyes stay fixed on you. That kind of behaviour has no place in your scenario. 

The familiar rage from earlier overfills your veins, mainly triggered by the alcohol, and you squeeze her neck impossible tight , making her gag. 

"You vile woman" - you groan, leaning closer and dragging your tongue on her sensitive skin , starting from between her breasts and ending somewhere in the middle of her exposed throat.

Her head tilts backwards at the same time as yours, as you both hiss from the build up pleasure. 

"Forsaken, little deer" - you clench your jaw in annoyance. This is definitely not the type of response you'd like to get from her. Doesn't matter, as long as you can change what she says and do. 

"You - I'm going to ruin you" - the red marks from the angry fingers you drag along her stomach confirm your words - "i hate you" 

"You've grown horns, sharp teeth and claws" - her voice is close to a whisper, you try to silence her with forced kisses, but she manages to speak again - "poor girl, you can't handle yourself like that" - a pause - "let alone handle me." 

Having death under you is fun, playing with it even funnier. But you cannot kill death , her cunning nature is too great. You squeeze Miranda's neck tightly, threatening to do serious damage. She laughs, her body begins to break , turning into dark liquid, staining your skin in the process. She's out of your reach in the blink of an eye. She disappeared from your own imagination, leaving you more than confused. 

One dark chuckle is enough to send shivers down your spine. 

"Fascinating" - the stirring sound of heels dragging on the floor echoes close to your ears - "the things we do when we think nobody is watching us" 

You didn't acknowledge embarrassed before but now not only that , but full of shame mask find its please on your visage. 

"I'm ugh-" - your words tangle together with the excuses you try to form in your head , in the end making an unclear sentence. 

"What if one of my daughters were to find you like this" - Miranda tries to contain her bullying smile as she watches you struggle to pull out your hand from beneath your jeans - "you're not giving them a good example at all." 

"Your children are not at home" - you hiss at her. 

"But i am." 

She's capable of silence you with only a few words and she's damn good at it. You follow her with your eyes while she moves past and ignores the sofa , instead taking a sit on the wooden table in front of you. 

She picks up the cup and the bottle of wine. She knows the sort, she knows it's from Alcina, for her. She's unbothered that there's only one cup on the table, and she doesn't care that it's yours. The only problem she finds is an empty glass. The wine pours lile a thick, crimson blood from the bottle into the cup. 

"Show me" - she says , dipping her full lips into the red wine , tasting it. 

"What?" - you hate how the fabric of her dress is slightly pulled up as she sits down, exposing parts of her bare thighs , not a good sight for your already full of lewd thoughts head. 

"Show me" - she repeats herself, allowing yet another cunning smile to occupy her lips - "spreads those pretty legs for me and show me. Give me a reason not to throw you out of here immediately."

Oh, she wants to watch. Or to humiliate you. Maybe both. Your cheeks burn in red flames as you try your best to ignore her gaze. 

"You can't be serious" 

"Don't make me repeat myself" - a fare warning. 

"You can't just-"- you scoff - "this is not-"

"Quit your barking already" - her voice changes as she decides to use a slightly harsher tone on you - "and show me what i wish to see." 

"I won't." 

"Now" - she commands , awaking goosebumps from beneath your skin. She lifts a hand to point at your jeans , her intension is clear yet you decide to play it stupid, in one last attempt to force her to change her mind - "and i said i want to see , take these off."

As if pulled by invisible strings, like a puppet, your hands obey her. Your body moves on its own, stripping  your lower part naked until you find yourself on the sofa again, with your jeans and underwear on a pile of clothes next to your now spread legs. 

One of your hands slips down between your thighs , fingers ready to bring you pleasure again. But this time it's different. Real Miranda is much more scarier than your imaginary one. And more thrilling. 

"Tell me , darling" - she starts quietly, eyes locked on your working hand , as she crosses her own legs , taking her usual body pose - "what do you think about while you touch yourself?" - she lifts a finger , nail strictly pointed to your crouch - "faster." 

The circle you've been rubbing around your clit immediately pick up a more swift tempo and you find it difficult not to hiss in response. Though you wish to save your pride for as long as you can. 

"I think of..." - Of her? Like hell you're telling her that - "...women.." 

"Women, really?" - she exclaims while straightening her back , a giant, mocking grin on her lips. She leans forward, placing her chin into a soft palm in the process - "how... unexpected" - she makes a circle motion with her wrist, making the bracelets on it let out a ringing sound - "think you can put your fingers to a better use , darling?" 

You nod your head nervously the same time as one of your fingers burry itself deep inside of you. You groan at the feeling, wishing the sound wasn't too loud , and that it didn't end up close to Miranda's ears. 

"What type of women?" - she questions, tapping the floor a few times with her heel - "describe one for me"

Your hips buckle up instead of you giving her a response. And you bite your lips , looking up from beneath your eyelashes you spot Miranda's bottom lip also locked between her teeth. Perhaps she's enjoying the show you're putting for her a little bit too much. 

"Let's start with her hair." - she gently speaks - "what colour is her hair?"

"Golden" - your swift response surprises both of you, in a good way. 

"And her eyes?" - she continues to question. 

"Blue..." - you hiss out - "so blue..." 

"Can you add another?" - she doesn't have to clarify what she demands of you. A second finger is already on it's way to your opening. Giving the fact that you're awfully wet it slips in easily, staring its pumping motion immediately in the same tempo as the other one. This makes you moan out loudly.  

"Her skin..." - you continue to describe your dream woman without Miranda encouraging you, which makes her awfully pleased - "So pale , flawless..."

"Soft?"

"Incredibly soft, yes" - you moan again, as you circle your fingers inside of you together, managing to find a good spot to drive the knot in your abdomen to a higher level - "every time i see her showing it , even just the slightest, i have the desire to-"

"To touch?" - she guesses for you, correctly on top of that , and you have no choice but to nod your head for confirmation - "i bet she would love that" 

"Miranda..." - you weakly groan out , feeling your toes curling on the floor. 

"No , don't moan my name" - she corrects you - "moan hers" 

"Miranda." - the smile that appears on her face is way too great. You wish to kiss it away. The cup , still half full of wine, is long forgetting on the the wooden surface of the table. The sofa shifts and creaks under the newly placed weight on it. Miranda takes a seat next you. With her being so close the stimulation in your lower belly grows stronger. 

"I'm... going to..." - you're completely out of breath while you try to warn her how close to the edge you are. The only thing stopping you from completely throwing yourself in the depths of pleasure is actually her. 

"Not yet." - her first command of the night that genuinely makes you weak , even gathering tears in the corners of your eyes - "patience, darling, patience."

"But i- ,i can't-" - there's no mercy in her eyes , not even when your hips rock against the sofa violently , desperately. 

"Then stop." - she has a solution for everything. You're not a big fan of this one , though. And still your fingers slowly decrease their tempo until they are no longer moving inside of you, leaving you needy and ruining your build up orgasm. 

"It's you who needs to stop" - you find energy to snap at her - "you're the reason I'm in such a condition." 

"I'm not even touching you" - she defends herself while you purse your lips. She chuckles and soon enough the sudden force she uses on your chin in order to guide your attention back to her works perfectly and you find yourself dangerously close to her. It takes a lot of self control not to claim the lips that begin to ghost over yours as she whispers - "would you like me to touch you, darling?" 

There's no need for you to confirm it with words as the answer of that question is visible as day for both of you. You've never seen the blonde woman this happy. 

Miranda leans closer to you, shoving her head at the side of your neck. While she slips one of her careful hands down your body until her palm takes a place on top of your own hand , which is still pretty much buried between your legs. Her slender fingers push on yours , urging them to start their movements again. And exactly that they do. The euphoria from the moment is much greater like that , especially when her hand makes the heel of your palm firmly press onto your clit. 

You hiss out of both pleasure and pain while her tongue begins to trail along your neck. Saliva drips from her mouth onto your heated skin , as if she has been purposely gathering it inside. Her lips move smoothly around the more pointy areas around your neck , like your collerbone for example, where her teeth specifically stop to scratch. 

"Look at you" - she whispers just below your ear, her hot breath forces your back to arch. You don't know where she has been till know, or what she has been doing but Miranda also smells of alcohol, and it's not only because of the wine from earlier. The strong hint of nicotine also dances around your nose , mixing with the sweet aroma of her perfume - "dripping on my couch like a needy slut." 

Your hate towards her , in reality, might be an obsession. Because you absolutely detest how correct she is. You are ,in fact dripping, on her couch, around her fingers. And all of that is because of her. 

You notice that Miranda is keen on the idea of her name being moaned out loud. Her body practically vibrates in excitement next to you. So you continue to roll the sound of her name on your tongue, as if it's the only word you know. 

"What a fool that boy is , to abandon such a treasure" - she murmurs, chin placed comfortably on your shoulder as she observes up close the clenching of your jaw, you can feel her free hand moving behind your arched back , in order to wrap itself around your waist - "He does not deserve you." - her lips place a tender kiss on your temple - "repeat it." 

"He doesn't-" - oh her teeth are sharp. The piercing feeling of them breaking the skin barrier of your right shoulder stimulates your eyes to roll backwards. 

"His affection is not equal to love" - she continues to enchant you with her words, forcing you to believe in everything she says - "say it louder, darling, come on" 

"He doesn't deserve me!" - you half scream at her, she slips her own thin fingers under your palm to stimulated your swollen clit , filthy moans caused by that friction mix with your heavy breathing and you squeeze your eyes shut, so close to release - "nor does he love me." 

You finally reach your final peak of euphoria. Your orgasm rips through your whole body , threatening to break you in half. Miranda holds you tight as you ride off the what seems like endless waves of pleasure. 

"Good girl" - she praises you, her gentle palm petting the side of your face - "such a good girl" 

"Kiss me... please..." - even with your mouth dry as a dessert you still follow your primal needs , which just happen to be the desire for her lips on yours - "please Miranda, please..." 

She leans closer , that look of unsurenes appears on her face. And she hesitates. You feel a pressure on your bottom lip, following the demand of her thumb resting there - you open your mouth. And her nose wrinkles. 

"You're drunk." - a statement. The smell of the wine must have gotten to her nose. You refuse to let that ruin your chances. 

"I'm not!" - you exclaim, placing your hand on top of her shoulders as any area bellow them is too risky to touch right now - "please Miranda, let me have this , just.... One kiss." 

Her eyes darken , yet the unfamiliar expression on her face stays. She's considering it. You know you look absolutely pathetic right now - begging the woman that just made you see starts for kisses , as if that's your only desire in the world. The blonde woman shifts in her place and you turn to her , ready to unravel her taken decision. 

Miranda is perfect in every aspect Philip couldn't be. Her lips brush against yours, just to test the waters , then she claims you in a tender kiss. To think this is everything she's going to give you is a joke. Aiming to keep you entertained, she pushes her tongue roughly into your mouth, ready to explore the inside of it. You mimic her movements right after she does it. 

A moan urges to escape from your throat, however it comes out murmured between your shared , heated kiss. You tremble as Miranda lets out a similar sound, meanwhile her hands start to wander around your neck and neck, only to finally cup your cheeks with loving palms 

She pulls away, a string of saliva connecting both of you. Heavy breathing fills the air , which is not definitely not enough, judging by how yours and the chest of the woman in front of you lifts rapidly up and down. She glares at you from beneath her eyelashes for just a second before making up her mind and leaning back to your sweet lips. As if she can't get enough. 

Unfortunately you make the mistake to shift your hands down, fingers shaking in desire to touch her, and you gently caress the exposed skin of her thighs. That forces her to stop , for real this time. 

"No, please.." - you're quick to beg her for more , arms tangling at the back of her neck in a weak attempt to keep her this close for as long as possible. 

"One kiss" - she reminds you. Miranda easily slips out of your grasp. She stands up, while fixing her dress , which one hand she gesture to your shaking legs , while with the other she begins to fidget with her necklace - "i expect you to get rid of the mess you've done before i force you to lick it clean." 

You might actually do it , if it's for her. But no , that isn't important right now. You need her , it's a tragedy she's standing so far from you. Yes, because currently, two steps to the side seem like an endless journey for you.

"Don't leave me like this" - you feel boneless, arms unable to lift and drag her on top of you yet again - "you can't." 

She laughs, the sound like silk on your skin , it makes you shiver. 

"I do whatever i desire to" - she assures you - "perhaps you should consider this a punishment, for going through my personal matters." - she stops to think for a moment - "without my permission." 

She knows. Of course she knows. It's enough to guess she's not talking about documents and useless paperwork by the way her tongue roll the word 'personal'. She's talking about what you saw in the chat with that mysterious woman. 

"How?" - your confusion is genuine. 

"It's not important" - her chuckle follows her body while it turns in the opposite direction, her back now facing you - "what you should know and remember is that you can't hide anything from me , no matter how hard you try." 

With that Miranda leaves alone, half naked and still incredibly turned on in the middle of the living room. With more mixed feelings than you're in condition to deal with. 

Death was right. You truly cannot handle her. 

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vincent buys a really expensive horse he can’t quite ride…maybe he can sort of ride but this horse is too spirited for him, or maybe he’s never actually ridden and thinks it looks easier than it actually is. Maybe he has a really fancy competitive riding outfit that he puts on for his first ride. The horse dumps his ass and Chidi naturally has to pick him up and comfort him. Probably Chidi would want to shoot the horse right there, not because he’s an awful guy who hates animals or anything, but just because it hurt Vincent. (Vincent stops him though!) Maybe then he decides to get actual riding lessons, or hire a professional rider for the horse, or something.

Aaaaaaaa I really love this ask, thank you anon!!! I went with the idea that this horse is too spirited. Of course he’d think that he has what it takes to tame a horse like that even when he doesn’t. And I headcanon that animals are initially quite suspicious of him because he's not good at taking their feelings into account and tends to do things that leaves a bad first impression. The yak and Dog in Beyond Judgement were both that way. So an already free-spirited horse could definitely be spooked by Vincent...although I think they would form a deep bond in the end ^_^

-⚜- Pure of Heart -⚜-

TW: threatened animal death (but it doesn't happen), possible concussion

Disclaimer: I don't ride horses so this is just based on what I've been told by a family member who does ride.

Image Sources: One (screenshot) | Two (this was from Google Images but it linked to the Tumblr @b-skarsgard in general rather than the post, so I couldn't find the particular post link. You can message that link to me if you want it added!) | Three | Borders

“They call her ‘Golden Unicorn.’ That’s ‘Licorne Dorée’ for you, I believe.” The trader ran a hand along the shimmering, silky neck of his latest offering for the Marquis de Gramont. She looked truly metallic, glittering almost as much as his suit. “’Course, the horn is an accessory added by our effects artists. But she does have quite a prominent forehead, almost a vestigial horn if you use your imagination.”

The Marquis smiled, humoring him, though he was genuinely intrigued. “A cute touch. What is she really?”

“An Akhal-teke. One of the shiniest of all horse breeds, and she’s the daughter of two winning show horses. Her pedigree goes back five generations, in fact.” He handed over a certificate boasting of a long line of dressage winners on both the father and mother’s lineage. “Her sister is showing next week before Queen Elizabeth.”

He glanced up from the paper, suspicious of a deal too good to be true. “Why is this one for sale, then?”

“Well…” the trader chuckled nervously. “She lives up to her name, you see. I’m sure you’ve heard myths about the free-spirited unicorn? Won’t let anyone but the pure of heart ride her?”

Ah. So that explained the charade with the horn. Though he had to admit, it was working on him. “You’re saying she’s green-broke.”

“…That’s…about right.” So not even fully green-broke, then.

The Marquis eyed the animal, who seemed to feel his gaze. She tossed her head against the lead rope. Even beneath the trader’s familiar hand, her muscles were trembling. “I’ve broken a horse before.”

The trader sighed dramatically. “Not like this one. I’ll be honest with you, Marquis, for liability’s sake: she may be a five-year-old mare but she acts like a two-year-old intact stallion. And she’s nervous as hell. I know what she could be, with the right training – you’ve seen how gracefully she moves. But it takes a very special touch to even get into the saddle with this one.” In a silent challenge, his eyes lingered meaningfully on Vincent’s horse show awards lining the far wall of the stable. Are you that special?

Vincent knew exactly what this man was doing, but he was already too sold to care. “I’ll take her.”

-⚜-

“En êtes-vous sûr, monsieur? Il serait peut-être plus sûr de demander à l'un de vos entraîneurs de la tester d'abord. [Are you sure about this, sir? It might be safer to get one of your trainers to test ride her first.]” Chidi was tightening the chinstrap of his master’s riding helmet, inlaid with gold pinstripes under the clearcoat. He was in one of his finer outfits, with polished black boots trimmed in gold, spotless white chaps, white gloves, and a black, double-breasted coat.

“Je peux la gérer. [I can handle her.]” Chidi knew better than to say anything further, and Vincent strode confidently towards his “Licorne,” who waited in the corral, already saddled and held in place by a stable hand. It was a perfect day for riding, with the late morning sun casting sheens across her withers and a light breeze lifting her mane. She was really an elegant thing. Even as she took two hasty steps back from him, there was a dancerly quality to the motion. Vincent admired her for a long moment and finally deigned to stretch out a gloved hand to her nose in a gesture of goodwill.

If he had expected her to be instantly soothed by his presence as she had never been for anyone else (which was in fact exactly what he had expected), he was to be disappointed. She shied away again and only allowed herself to be touched when she realized she was at the end of her lead rope. But god, she was soft as silk. Up close, she was an unearthly, angelic conglomeration of velvet wrinkles, soft pink nostrils in a complexity of folds and fine eyelashes spraying as starbursts from those cold yet honeyed eyes that regarded him so suspiciously. He trailed his hand down her cheek and then her neck as he made his way to the saddle, over delicate veins and twitching muscles, enjoying the texture.

She realized how close he was getting to the saddle and flattened her ears. He mounted anyway. She stumbled forward and backward, uneasy, while he “woa-ed” for her to stop.

He couldn’t deny at this point that she disliked him, and it irritated him a little. “Pourquoi tu ne me fais pas confiance, hmm ? Ne suis-je pas « pur de cœur » ? Je ne t'ai rien fait. [Why don’t you trust me, hmm? Am I not ‘pure of heart’? I haven’t done anything to you.]” As if in answer, she snorted, but even that was done delicately. “Vos formateurs ont-ils parlé français avec vous? [Did your trainers speak French with you?]”

The stable hand answered for her. “Les papiers indiquaient qu'elle avait été formée en anglais, monsieur. [The paperwork said she was trained in English, sir.]”

“Ah, c'est ça le problème alors. Eh bien, elle saura ce que cela signifie. [Ah, that’s the problem then. Well, she’ll know what this means.]” And he clicked his tongue at her to begin walking.

She set off around the perimeter of the fence, but her eyes were wide and her ears were still down. Chidi was watching from the gate, completely tense. Vincent couldn’t understand why he was being so uptight about this. “Tu vois, Chidi? Elle m'aime bien. [You see, Chidi? She likes me.]”

He clicked again and squeezed at her sides, urging her into a trot.

That was all it took. She’d had it, and bucked. Vincent dug in stubbornly – he had indeed broken horses before, and he knew how to hang on – but she was of another sort entirely. She did a kind of sideways leap, at once violent and fluid in its motion, and he felt the sharp rush of air from his lungs as the ground knocked the wind from him. It didn’t seem possible to get air back inside his body, and only after a moment of gasping did he register intense pain in his head. Licorne, meanwhile, was making screeching, wild whinnies, and he could tell by the sound that she was running circles around the corral in search of escape.

Her commotion was matched only by Chidi. He had rushed into the corral immediately, ignoring the danger she posed, and pulled Vincent into his lap, cradling his head. “Marquis! Es-tu blessé? [Marquis! Are you hurt?]”

“…Je ne sais pas. […I don’t know.]” He felt terribly dazed. He should be protesting, but instead he found himself leaning into Chidi’s shoulder as he was lifted and carried out through the gate, the stable hand making way for them. Chidi sat him gently onto a bench and started shouting at the stable hand to get a doctor.

“Je vais bien. Je vais bien, j'ai juste besoin d'air… [I’m alright. I’m alright, I just need air…]” Oh. He seemed to be hugging Chidi rather desperately. At least the man was hugging him back, thank goodness for that.

Chidi, for his part, was fuming. The second that Vincent’s grip started to loosen, he was on his feet with his gun drawn on the horse, over the fence. She seemed to sense what that meant and reared in panic.

“NON! Ne le faites pas! [NO! Don’t!]” Vincent came between them in an instant.

“Cet animal est dangereux, monsieur. Ça t'a fait mal. Il faut qu'il meure. [This animal is dangerous, sir. It hurt you. It needs to die.]”

“Ne lui tirez pas dessus ! Elle me fera confiance, je sais qu'elle le fera… [Don’t shoot her! She’ll trust me, I know she will…]”

Chidi reluctantly lowered his gun and moved to steady Vincent instead, who had stood up much too quickly after all that. He leaned back against the fence, deflated and holding onto Chidi’s hand. “Ce n'est pas sa faute. C'est tellement frustrant… les animaux ne m'aiment jamais, Chidi. Je ne comprends pas pourquoi. [It’s not her fault. It’s just so frustrating…animals never like me, Chidi. I don’t understand why.]”

“Vos autres chevaux vous aiment très bien, monsieur. Je pense qu'il y a quelque chose qui ne va pas avec celui-ci. [Your other horses like you just fine, sir. I think there’s something wrong with this one.]”

“Non,” he said quietly. “Finalement, ils le font, mais ils mettent toujours plus de temps à me faire confiance qu'à quiconque. [Eventually they do, but they always take longer to trust me than anyone else.]” He pulled off his helmet and rubbed at his head, wondering if he had a concussion. He wished he didn’t feel so much like crying all of a sudden, all over being thrown from some stupid horse.

But Chidi was looking at something behind him.

He glanced behind him to see that Licorne Dorée had approached the fence. She was sniffing cautiously at his shoulder, as if in apology.

“Ne bouge pas, Chidi. [Don’t move, Chidi],” he whispered. “Peut-être que si nous ne lui faisons pas peur... [Maybe if we don’t scare her…]” Neither of them moved at all until, very slowly, Vincent opened his hand for her to sniff. This time, she nuzzled into it, and let Vincent start stroking the bridge of her nose. His heart absolutely melted. “Tellement adorable, regarde ça. Quel bon cheval. [So adorable, look at this. What a good horse.]”

Chidi smiled at the pair of them, finally relaxing. “Elle a dû te voir me rabaisser. [She must have seen you talk me down.]”

“Fille intelligente. Elle sait que dans ce monde, on ne peut vraiment faire confiance qu’à ceux qui sont allés jusqu’à nous sauver de la mort. [Clever girl. She knows that in this world, only those who’ve gone as far as saving us from death can truly be trusted.]” He looked at Chidi meaningfully, and saw the same knowing tenderness answering his own.

“Pensez-vous que j'ai le cœur pur, Chidi? [Do you think I am pure of heart, Chidi?]” His tone was playful, but he still felt something sorrowful nagging at him from within.

“Oui Monsieur. Pure quoi, je ne sais pas, mais je n’ai jamais rencontré quelqu’un d’aussi pur que toi. [Yes, sir. Pure what, I don’t know, but I’ve never met anyone as pure as you.]” Licorne Dorée nosed at his cheek, and if she was trying to cheer him up, it worked. He knew then that he was going to love this horse…whether he ever rode her or not.

[eadanga]

The Press Secretary Part 16

Summary: Chris the mayor of town is married to his wife Becca. When he hires a new press secretary who happens to be his lost love old feelings resurface and Chris finds it hard to resist the desire he once had for her

Parings: ChrisxMC

Chris sits at his desk looking through some papers when he gets a text message from Emily

Hi Chris

Hey baby what’s up

You should check the news

Oh no did the idiots do something again

Just check Chris

Chris sighs as he looks at the news and sees a conference held by Becca’s father

One reporter holds a microphone out “Mr. Davenport did your daughter’s recent divorce with Mayor Powell have anything to do with you backing up Sen Jamerson

Mr. Davenport waves a dismissive hand “Davenport industries choose the most qualified person to win the upcoming election I mean what has Chris Powell done for you as mayor? Absolutely nothing his policies all broken promises Sen Jamerson will bring this state into the future”

Chris rolls his eyes as he turns it off “Stupid” He grunted “I’ve done so many things they’re just petty people” He squares his shoulders “I’ll show them who has empty promises”

****

Becca walked out the bedroom doo as she watched Sen Jamerson leaving the house “Thank you so much for your help”

“It’s our pleasure” He waves and walks out the door

“Hi daddy how was your meeting?”

“Went well just introducing him to some stuff that’ll help him” He smirks “You’ll see Chris’s foolish campaign burn to ashes”

Becca nods “Yes we will” She sighs then smiles “We should also include his little whore too”

“Oh yes that’ll really bring it down good idea”

“But daddy don’t do it yet can I handle this”

“Of course”

****

Chris walks into the office his phone buzzes with a text message

Hi there

Chris grits his teeth

What do you want Becca

Oh don’t be like that I just wanna chat say café around 3pm

Why would I go anywhere with you

You will if you care about your precious little Emily

Don’t you dare do anything to her

Then meet me at the café

Chris’s nostrils fare as he stuffs his phone in his pocket Emily walks up to him concern in her face “What’s wrong?”

“Becca wants to meet at a café I don’t want to but she threatened you”

Emily frowns “What’s wrong with her? I’m coming with you”

“No Em I really don’t want anything to happen to you”

“Nothing will I’ll come in disguise and record everything that way if she tries anything we got her red handed”

Chris smiles “Ok detective but so up a little bit after I come in so she doesn’t see you”

“Of course Chris”

They down to the café and Emily immediately spots Becca “Ok Chris you go in you’re all wired up just in case she spots me”

“Thanks Em I love you”

“I love you too now go get her”

Chris walks into the café and Emily waits a bit before she heads in making sure she covers her face

“Chris baby”

“Cut the chit chat and tell me why I’m here we settled everything in our divorce peacefully so why are you so hell bent on bothering me?”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t cheated on me”

“Yes and I own up to that mistake I shouldn’t have done in while we were married”

“You’re damn right now I’ll keep all that and Emily out of the news if you do one thing for me”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to dump her publicly and make sure everyone sees it then you can tell everyone that we got back together and that we’re trying for a baby”

“There’s no way I’m doing that”

“You can and you will I have pictures from your little affair that I’ll release imagine everything worked on crumble such a shame”

Chris clenches his fists “I can’t believe I got married to you biggest mistake of my life”

“No Chris you’re biggest mistake was leaving me and now I’m gonna make you regret it I’m not gonna let you two live happily ever after” She stands “Just think about my offer Chris and let me know what you decided and make it fast I don’t want to wait long” She flips her hair and struts out the café

Chris leans against his chair as he sighs “Did you get all that?”

“I did but does she really have pictures?”

“I wouldn’t put it pass her”

“Well we can’t release this audio without those pictures she can still spread them around and ruin our reputation”

“You’re right we’re gonna need some help to see if she’s lying or not”

Tags: @indiacater @mfackenthal @choicesgodfanatic @the-soot-sprite @darley1101 @jared2612

[sil-and-seals-blog-something]

I have DND in like, an hour and a half, so I gotta make this prompt/idea dump quick.

DPxDC ideas to dump on anyone who wants to hear!

This one is focus on a little piece of Jason and Danny’s revivals.

So, first, Jason. Jason has had multiple things attributed to his revival, so I gotta clarify his first. For this idea, I wanna focus on the one that is basically this; Superboy-Prime (alternate version of Superman from Earth-Prime, which is a world devoid of any superhumans. Superheroes are comic book characters there. He gets the powers of Superman and, over time, his morals twist into much darker and villain-like morals. There’s more to him, but I won’t get into that) basically punched reality hard enough (at some point) that a lot of things happened as a result, including Jason reviving, but the panel that shows this stuff makes it look like reality broke like glass. So, I imagine that that leaves some sort of mark of Jason. He’s alive because of reality literally getting broken. (Like, don’t get me wrong, I love the Lazarus Pits stuff and all, but I wanna see more about the reality shenanigans of Jason’s revival)

Danny is kinda in a similar boat of having a funky relationship with the fabric of reality. He died and revived WITHIN A HOLE IN REALITY OPENING UP INTO ANOTHER REALITY. That’s gotta have some funkier side effects than just being a powerful halfa. Vlad is a powerful halfa and he only had a blast of ectoplasm thrown at him. Danny had reality tear open on him.

(I only brought Danny up because this thought process technically counts for him as well. But, he actually has this used much more than Jason.)

I’d love to see these details used more. Like, are they walking tears or breaks in reality? Can anyone tell that they have funky reality stuff going on? Are they a danger to reality? Is the reality stuff a danger to them? Is it like an open wound? Can it be worsened? Can it be treated? Would they die (or worse, stop existing) from it being treated? Do they get anything from the funky reality stuff going on with them? Does it fade without causing problems? Or does it remain in the background in a way that they don’t even realize that something is off about them until something happens and now it’s this big thing they have to deal with? Would their reality funkiness be the same or different?

And for DPxDC? Jason could be a halfa or he could just be some undead (maybe not even a specific type of undead beyond having been revived) that feels funky, funky in a way similar to Danny that gets Danny’s rogue gallery thinking that Jason is like Danny and either decides to mess with him (like they would with Danny) or try to get him to meet Danny (whether that’s to make them friends or otherwise is up to the writer)

Why don’t we jump on other places in the DC universe as having high ectoplasmic levels? Like, (in some stories, like, I’m not sure if this applies to the common consensus honestly) Central City had that wave of energy from the particle accelerator that activated a bunch of peoples’ metagenes, and I’m pretty sure that it also killed some people. There’s also the Black Flash, who is basically a grim reaper for the speedforce, who’ll appear in Central Coty (due to the multitude of speedsters there). Central City can be reasonably stated to have, at least, rising ectoplasmic levels. The cities that face alien invasions would reasonably have a lot of deaths and therefore a lot of ectoplasm. We can use a lot of other cities as settings. Also, I’d love to imagine the different possible city spirits people could come up with? Like, I’ve seen Metropolis done a few time, but besides Metropolis and Gotham? No other location spirits. Like:

Themyscira: Probably an old/wise warrior. She’d be set in her ways (considering how Themyscira is), but like, who knows?

Central City: Probably a young one if existent (at least, younger than Lady Gotham)? I imagine this one changing to be like the Flash family or scientific because the two notable things about Central City, that I remember, is science stuff and the Flash family.

Metropolis AND Smallville: So, I’ve seen some people play with the idea of the spirit of Krypton going and becoming Metropolis’s, but like, what if they became Smallville’s instead? Since, that’s where the Last Son of Krypton was raised and all, and where Kryptonians go as a safe space, and the spirit of Krypton probably needs the retirement to a small town. Metropolis could probably get a city spirit that reflects both Superman and Lex Luthor (Superman and Lex are the big names for Metropolis and both shape Metropolis in different ways. Yeah, Lex isn’t the best person, but he does cause some good things to happen for Metropolis. I imagine that the two are equally defining characters for Metropolis) instead.

I just, enjoy the concept of city spirits and spirits that embody a place.

This idea here is less of a prompt and more of a thought. What if Boston Deadman had no idea about ectoplasmic ghosts? Like, imagine having to need someone to magically make you visible, and then finding out about a whole other sect of ghosts that can be both visible AND tangible that can also have the same powers as you, just as a common baseline. It’s just hilarious to me to imagine how vindicated Deadman would probably feel to find out that he could’ve become that type of ghost instead, but no, he just had to be a magically bound one instead!

Idea for those who don’t like Jason just casually being cured of Pit Madness. Genuine attempt to heal him leads to Jason going catatonic again. Play with that as you will.

Hope y’all have fun with these. Feel free to mix and match, or recommend pieces of work that already have these or something similar.

[theladyofdeath]

The Holiday {9}

Ships: Nesta x Cassian / Aelin x Rowan

Written alongside @snelbz

Trope(s): Christmas, fluff, love at first sight, enemies to lovers, New Year's

Summary: Nesta has just been dumped. Aelin hates her job. Both women need an escape from reality and with Christmas quickly approaching, it's the perfect time for a getaway. After discovering a trend where people can swap houses for a non-traditional vacation experience, these two women decide to spend the holidays in each other's homes. With their houses comes a series of unique experiences and a couple of handsome suitors. It's time to see just how much a change of scenery and two weeks of Christmas solitude and romance can change a person.

A/N: One more chapter! x

Rating: M for mature - language, smut, substance use, etc. 18+.

Inspired by The Holiday (2006).

It was Christmas and Nesta sat alone on a stranger’s couch, drinking wine.

Well, she wanted to be drinking wine. She had a glass full of wine. Yet, her heart wasn’t really in it. Since Cassian disappeared that morning, leaving her on the stairs, Nesta felt…off. 

Yes, she had gone on vacation to get away from everyone — men especially. Her intention was to spend her vacation in solitude, having some sort of peaceful womanhood journey, but she found some hot guitar player that knew his way around a mattress instead. 

Worst of all? He was a good guy.

The words he spoke before he disappeared had been running through her mind all day. 

It wasn’t just meaningless sex.

I like you, Nesta.

She had no idea what he saw in her, considering she had been a bitch to him for a week then kicked him out after their night of mind-blowing sex, but he saw something.

And she didn’t deserve that.

She didn’t deserve his kindness, not after the words she had spat at him. Yet, she couldn’t help those words. She felt the way she felt, and after all that she had been through in the last year, she had a right to her feelings.

Even if those feelings were guarded. 

Tomas had destroyed her. It was stupid, and she knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t help how she felt. She had given everything to him, had loved him unconditionally and wanted to build a life with him, but then she found him in bed with a girl that lived down the hall from them. Before him, she had never been cheated on. She had heard of people being cheated on and had seen it in the movies, but the reality of it was worse than she could have ever imagined. The second she had caught him in bed with someone else, her heart had broken. Shattered. She had never felt as lonely and unloved, uncherished, as she did in that moment. 

She never wanted to feel like that again. 

When Cassian had made his confession that morning, it had terrified her. When she woke up next to him still there, it had terrified her. Every time she had been mean to him and he didn’t disappear, it had terrified her.

Cassian scared the hell out of her. 

But what scared her more was how she felt when she was around him. Once she let her guard down, she could tell what a genuine person he was.

With a groan, Nesta fell back on the couch. She probably owed him an apology. No, she knew she owed him an apology. Did it really matter, though? Perhaps it was better this way. She would be gone in a day, and maybe it would be best if their last interaction was so heartbreakingly cruel on her part. Maybe it would be easier that way.

It would be better if he remembered her that way. She would remember him at his best, he would remember her at her worst.

A knock on the front door of the townhouse had Nesta sitting up, one hand braced on the back of the couch. There were still only a few people who knew where she was. Barring another inappropriate delivery from her sisters, there was only one person it could really be. As she looked towards the door, she could tell from the silhouette who it was.

For a moment, she hesitated, debating on answering it. Even with her doubts, she pulled herself up off the couch and meandered toward the door.

When she opened it, she was greeted by Cassian, who held up a series of plastic containers, filled with food.

“Before you say anything,” Cassian began, just as Nesta opened her mouth, “I promise not to intrude. I only wanted to bring some leftovers. We get a little excited on holidays and make way too much food.”

Nesta couldn’t help but chuckle as she observed everything in his arms. “I see that.”

He nodded, his eyes on hers as they softened. “Well, I just wanted to drop these off. Even if you don’t eat it, we still have enough to last all three of us at least a week, so don’t feel too bad about brushing it aside.”

He held out the containers and Nesta blinked at them.

“It’s just food,” Cassian said when she didn’t take it. “I promise I didn’t poison it.”

Nesta huffed a laugh again. He said the most ridiculous things. “Would you mind putting them on the table?”

She had barely gotten through the question when Cassian stepped inside and went to the kitchen, placing it all on the table. He unstacked them and laid them out before turning back to Nesta, hands in his pockets. “You leave tomorrow?”

Nesta nodded, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

“Well, travel safe,” he said, and she knew he meant it more than a simple pleasantry. 

They stared at each other for a minute before Cassian gave her an awkward nod and headed for the door.

“Do you want to stay?” Nesta blurted, staring at his back. Cassian stilled and slowly turned to face her. “I know you’re probably stuffed, but—“

“I could eat.” That cocky grin made its return.

His cocky grins and his smirks were so similar yet elicited such a different reaction in her. When he grinned at her like that, she wasn’t able to breathe properly. She forgot how to speak and couldn’t look away. When he smirked… Well, it was pretty much the same reaction, but it also irritated her in the best way.

She pulled out two plates and set them down at the table. While he started scooping and spooning foods onto their plates, Nesta retrieved her glass of wine and poured one for Cassian.

She smiled as she sat down across from him. This was an olive branch of sorts. It was nice. They had barely spoken yet, but there was something different in the atmosphere of the night. The sexual tension of the night before was gone, but there was also a somber note.

She would be leaving tomorrow, likely to never see him again.

They ate in a peaceful quiet, and Nesta had to admit that she liked it. She liked how casual it was, how the awkwardness faded. 

Cassian cleaned his plate quickly and leaned back, watching Nesta politely cut up her turkey. 

“Don’t watch me when I eat,” she murmured, taking a bite.

Cassian chuckled. “I want to look at you while I can.”

Nesta could feel her cheeks warm and she set down her fork. “Always the flirt.”

“Sorry,” he said, in a way that told her he was very much not sorry. 

Another moment of silence passed before Nesta said, “I’m sorry. About this morning.”

Cassian shook his head. “I’m sorry if I made it weird.”

“You didn’t,” she promised. “You just…surprised me.”

“Surprised you?”

“By being kind.” She shrugged. “By wanting to stay.”

Cassian studied her for a long moment. She hated the intensity of his gaze. She tried not to squirm beneath his stare. “I hate that there’s a guy out there that’s made you surprised by that.”

Although Tomas’s face flashed through her mind, Nesta had had plenty of one night stands with less than charming men who weren’t so kind, either. 

And none of them had ever wanted to stay in the morning.

Cassian had no idea how different he was, how good of a heart he had. 

Nesta thought she would meet him halfway. “Would you like to know why I came here?”

“I thought it was to be alone at Christmas,” Cassian said, prompting her further.

“Yes,” Nesta began, slowly, “but the reason that I wanted to be alone was because it was the first year in a long time that I wasn’t spending a holiday with my boyfriend. I’d been with a guy for a while and it ended…poorly earlier this year. Then the thought of being around my sisters, both who have more Christmas spirit than anyone I’ve ever met, just seemed overwhelming when I wasn’t feeling very cheery myself.”

Cassian sat patiently, listening. “What happened? With the guy.”

Nesta took a deep breath before meeting Cassian’s eye. “Found him in bed with someone else.” 

The townhouse was quiet around them, the sound of the fireplace crackling from the living room. She’d looked down at her plate as soon as she’d admitted the truth and she didn’t know what expression she’d find when she looked back up at him. She wasn’t expecting to see fire blazing in his hazel eyes. It was a different fire than that of last night. That was a low simmer, something that had been waiting under the surface. All it needed was a spark. This fire needed no spark to consume her.

“He was a fucking idiot.”

Nesta didn’t know why but his blunt words made her laugh out loud.

Cassian, clearly not expecting her fit of giggles, raised his eyebrows.

Once she regained her composure, dabbing under her eyes, she nodded. “He was a fucking idiot.”

A smile, genuine and sweet, broke across Cassian’s face. She hasn’t seen that smile often and if she had to choose between that, his cocky grin, and his smirk, there was no real decision.

She didn’t realize she was staring until his smile softened and he cocked his head. “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“Even after all I put you through?” She whispered.

“Because of all you put me through,” he said, and leaned across the table to take her hand. 

“Well,” Nesta said, weaving her fingers through his, “if you ever find yourself in the mountains of Terrasen, give me a call.”

That smile returned as he nodded. “Okay.”

They sat at the table, talking and laughing until late into the night. Their hands never left one another’s.

<.>.<.>.<.>

Rowan was spending the day with his daughter, which Aelin knew he would and expected nothing less. Still, when he had left early that morning before the sun rose, it was hard to see him go. Their night together had been nothing short of perfection and she would do anything to relive it.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t a possibility, so Aelin tossed a few logs in the stove and started her Christmas the way she did every year: a huge breakfast that she would never finish. Crispy bacon and cheesy eggs, fresh fruit and sweet yogurt, delicious sausage and fluffy biscuits. By the time Aelin had finished cooking, she was hungry enough to eat all of the bacon and most of the fruit. She was lounging on the couch with a mimosa in one hand and a romance novel by her favorite author in the other when her phone rang.

She held her breath as she reached toward where it sat on the coffee table. There was no denying that she wanted it to be Rowan and that only made her impending flight home tomorrow more harrowing. When she flipped the phone over and saw her best friend’s name, she released the breath in a whoosh of air.

“Merry Christmas, Lys,” she greeted, before the phone was even to her ear. It had been days since she’d spoken to her best friend and while she was enjoying her escape from reality, it didn’t mean she didn’t miss certain pieces of it.

“Merry Christmas,” she sang, and Aelin knew without even asking that her best friend had loved every second of her day.

Since Lysandra and Aedion had gotten married, they’d gone all out for Christmas. That only amplified when Lysandra got pregnant. Now, as Lysandra was seven months along, it was their last Christmas as a party of two.

“Was your holiday in solitude everything you hoped it would be?” She asked, as Aelin plopped back down on the couch.

With a sigh, Aelin said, “Yeah.” She wasn’t really sure how to answer that question. It was more loaded that Lysandra even realized.

On the other end, Lysandra snorted. “That sounded promising. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aelin said, a little too quickly. “Tell me about your day.”

Just to humor her, Lysandra went on and on about her Christmas with her husband. She was certain to be detailed so that Aelin wouldn’t have any follow up questions before she finished her story and said, “Tell me about yours.”

Aelin wasn’t sure where to begin. With Rowan making love to her in the middle of the night or with the breakfast that she made for herself that could have fed ten people?

“It was…good.”

Silence rang from the other end before Lysandra asked, “Good? That’s all I get?”

Sighing, Aelin decided she could only keep Lysandra in the dark for so long. “I haven’t exactly spent it in solitude.”

“What does that mean?” She could practically see Lysandra pacing. For someone who looked like she was smuggling a volleyball under her shirt, she was still getting around wonderfully. Aelin only hoped she’d be as graceful as Lysandra was when she was pregnant one day.

Rowan’s smiling face flashed in her mind unbidden and Aelin was momentarily stunned into silence at the direction of her own thoughts.

“I mean, I haven’t been alone all that often,” she admitted, taking a sip of her coffee, hiding behind her cup, despite the fact that her best friend was two-thousand miles away.

Lysandra’s reply was much louder than Aelin expected. “You hooked up with a hot, foreign dude?!”

“She what?!” Aedion’s voice was faint, but Aelin still let her head fall into her hand.

“Ignore him, he’s putting together a swing for the baby,” she went on. “I need details.”

Aelin heard Aedion say something that sounded a lot like I don’t.

With a groan, Aelin shook her head. “Go into a different room, please. My cousin doesn’t need to be scarred.”

Lysandra snorted but Aelin heard her panting as she hurried down the hall. “Fine. In my bedroom. Spill.”

Aelin sighed, eyes falling shut. Rowan’s face appeared in her mind once more. “Yeah…I met someone.”

“And?” Lysandra pushed.

Aelin didn’t know how to describe Rowan. He was indescribable. Perfection didn’t begin to cover it, and just when Aelin was about to start with their first awkward interaction, she smiled to herself. “His name is Rowan.”

“Rowan.” The way Lysandra said it was like a secret that was begging to be set free. “Okay. Tell me about Rowan.”

Aelin did.

She told Lysandra about his kindness and all he had done to help Aelin have a nice, warm stay. She told her about their dates at the diner, and about how Aelin showed up at his house, thinking he was on a date, only to find out that he had a super amazing kid. She told her about the tree lot, and about their night together, and the countless orgasms that followed.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” Aelin said, finishing up her story. “I came here for solitude, and now I’m…”

“Smitten?” Lysandra offered, and Aelin knew she was grinning.

She offered one more kernel of truth, one that even she was struggling to believe. “I’m more than smitten, Lys. The idea of coming home tomorrow, of never seeing him again… I don’t like it.”

“And what about him?” Lysandra asked, slipping into therapist mode. “Do you think he feels the same way?”

She recalled the reverent look he gave her after they’d finished the night before. Neither of them had said anything, but his eyes said what his lips couldn’t. “I think so.”

“Then I think you need to go tell him.”

Her voice was so matter of fact that Aelin’s eyebrows lowered and she pulled the phone away to look at it. Shaking her head, she fit the phone between her ear and shoulder again. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is if you let it be,” Lysandra explained. “Who cares if you’ve only known him for two weeks? Who cares if you live in different time zones? You deserve to be happy, Ace, and this is the happiest I’ve heard you in years.”

Aelin let her words sink in. This was the happiest she’d been in years and it wasn’t just because of Rowan. This was the longest she’d gone without hearing from Arrobyn in years and it was freeing. Her vision clouded as she blinked away tears.

Clearing her throat, Aelin said, “I can’t very well go bust in and interrupt Christmas morning with his daughter.”

“Maybe not,” Lysandra agreed, “but you do have plenty of day left. Let him have his time with the kid, then drive your pretty little ass on over and tell him how you feel. You can’t let a good one get away.” 

Aelin wiped a tear from her cheek. She felt ridiculous for crying but she couldn’t help it, didn’t want to help it. They were tears of joy, tears of longing. Tears of hope.

“And if he doesn’t feel the same?” Aelin asked, quietly.

“Then you went for it anyway,” Lysandra said, matching her tone. “But something tells me he feels the same way, babe. A man does not make love to you like that without feeling a certain sort of way.”

Aelin knew she was right.

She had no doubt how Rowan felt.

“I love you,” Aelin said, taking a deep breath.

“Love you more,” Lysandra promised. “Merry Christmas.”

After they hung up, Aelin spent some time cleaning the cottage and packing up her belongings. After an afternoon shower, she got ready and changed her outfit twice before deeming a pair of jeans and a sweater acceptable life-altering clothing.

One last time, just as the sun was starting to set over the Staghorn Mountains, she swiped the keys to Nesta’s little, blue car and blasted the heat before backing out of the drive and heading up the mountain. The sun had come out today and despite it still being colder than any Velaris winter she could remember, the road was finally clearing up. It only took her a few minutes before the rustic cabin was coming into view and Aelin parked next to the truck in the driveway. She sat in the car, debating if this was a bad idea, if she should put it in reverse, go back to the cottage and pretend she’d never met Rowan Whitethorn.

But then the door flung open and all Aelin could see was shining silver hair and an adorable grin. “Miss Aelin!”

Aelin smiled as she got out of the car and Sutton bounded down the stairs. She crashed into her, wrapping her arms around Aelin’s waist. She hadn't been expecting such a forceful greeting, but she wasn’t able to stop the smile from growing on her face or her arms from going around the girl before her.

“Merry Christmas,” Sutton said, beaming up at Aelin. “I asked daddy if you were going to come see us, but he said you were probably busy. He’s going to be so surprised you’re here.”

The girl began to pull Aelin towards the house and up the porch stairs, but Aelin hesitated only briefly before crossing the threshold. “You didn’t tell him I was here?”

She shrugged, little shoulders rising and falling beneath her silver locks. “I was too excited.”

Trying not to focus on the rush of nerves that had just flooded her body, Aelin let Sutton drag her inside and shut the door behind them.

“Daddy!”

A door upstairs opened and closed, and then Rowan was hurrying down the stairs, coming to a slow halt when he saw Aelin standing just inside the doorway. He wore sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Aelin decided that she liked him casual.

A light came into his eyes as he looked from Aelin to Sutton and crossed his arms. “What have I said about answering the door?”

“Not to,” Sutton muttered, looking at the floor.

“Next time you come get me,” he said, then looked back to Aelin. “Although I’m glad we have a guest.”

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced,” Aelin said, hurriedly. “I just…I leave tomorrow and was worried I wouldn’t be able to see you again before I go.”

Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but Sutton said, “Can Miss Aelin stay for Christmas movie night, daddy?”

Aelin hesitated but Rowan only smiled. “If she wants to.”

“Oh, please!” Sutton yelled, jumping up and down. “We’re watching the Grinch.”

Well, she couldn’t say no to that, even if she wanted to. “I’d love to.”

Sutton ran through the house excitedly as Rowan finally finished descending the stairs. He stepped closer to Aelin and said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Aelin whispered, as a cabinet in the kitchen slammed shut and the sound of out of tune Christmas carols carried to them.

Rowan tugged on her sleeve, closing the distance between them as he gave her a soft kiss. It was sweet and innocent and over as quickly as it began, yet it woke something up inside of Aelin. She couldn’t deny her feelings for him, couldn’t deny that she loved him.

They stepped apart as Sutton’s little footsteps hurried back down the hall. “Daddy, the soup is done!”

Rowan gestured towards the kitchen. “Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“We do this every year,” Sutton explained to Aelin, pushing her step stool around the kitchen and pulling out everything they would need for dinner. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Sounds delicious,” Aelin replied, sitting down in the spot she’d sat the night she’d joined them for pizza. As Sutton brought her a napkin and spoon, she asked, “What did Santa bring you, Sutton?”

Her eyes went wide and the entire time Rowan was making grilled cheese sandwiches, Sutton regaled Aelin with an in-depth breakdown of each and every present she received. It spilled over into dinner itself and Aelin couldn’t help but smile at the young girl as she tore off a chunk of her sandwich and dipped it into her soup.

Every few seconds, Aelin could feel Rowan’s eyes lingering on her and she would look up and share a secret moment with him. It felt right. All of it felt right, being there with Rowan, with Sutton, eating soup in the kitchen on a cold, snowy Christmas night.

After dinner, they all snuggled up on the couch to watch The Grinch. Rowan and Sutton knew nearly every word, which Aelin typically would find annoying but now found charming and cute as hell. They had almost made it to the end when Sutton fell asleep on the couch and Rowan carried her to bed.

He was only gone for about ten minutes but Aelin found those ten minutes daunting. When he came back, she would tell him, would confess her feelings before going back to Nesta’s and leaving in the morning.

When Rowan came back, he found Aelin frowning on the couch and his joyous demeanor faltered. “What’s wrong?”

Aelin blinked, not even realizing he had come back into the room. As he sat down next to her, she shook her head. “Just lost in thought. I had fun tonight.”

“I did, too,” he said, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I didn’t want to impose,” she admitted, settling closer to him. “But before I left, I had to…”

The words got stuck in her throat. I had to tell you that I love you. She hesitated for a second, not wanting him to notice her lapse and instead said, “I had to see you one last time.”

“I’m glad you did.” The movie played on in the background, the exciting conclusion to a heartwarming story, and as he leaned in to press his lips to hers, Aelin thought it was fitting. She’d come all this way to get away from her everyday life. She expected rest and relaxation and a chance to take a break. Falling in love hadn’t been in the plans.

Rowan pulled away, just enough to speak. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Nine,” she breathed. “I have to be at Orynth International at seven-thirty.”

That was pushing it, knowing she was far from the only one traveling after the holidays, but any earlier might kill her.

His eyes found the clock on the mantle. It was just after nine.

“Twelve hours,” he whispered, brushing hair off her face. “Twelve hours until you leave and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”

“I love you.”

The words burst out and for a second, Aelin wasn’t even sure she’d said them. As she took in the look on Rowan’s face, she knew she had.

For a moment, he said nothing. She couldn’t quite place the series of emotions that ran across his face. Her heart was racing and she had the sudden need to puke, but she would stand her ground. She said her piece, her truth. Swallowing, she watched and waited.

Until she couldn’t wait any longer.

“I know that’s sudden, and we haven’t known each other long.” She had a feeling this was the start to endless nervous rambling, but it couldn’t be stopped. “And I know we may never see each other again, but I have been happier in the last couple of weeks than I have been in a long, long time…and last night was perfect. I’m sorry if—”

“I love you too.” His words were soft, but there was a fierceness in his gaze that told Aelin the whole truth. He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. “All I’ve been able to think about is you leaving and it’s been tearing me apart.”

Dropping her forehead to his chest, Aelin tried to will the tears forming in her eyes away. “I didn’t mean to fall for you. I wasn’t even expecting you.”

“And you think I was?” Rowan’s voice was full of laughter. “I was very content to continue the single dad lifestyle for a few more years.” He tilted her face up to his again. “But then this headstrong, brash girl from the city shows up and turns my entire world on its axis. And I know I should be thinking of Sutton before all else, but all I can focus on is that I don’t want you to get on that plane tomorrow.”

Aelin closed her eyes, but not fast enough to stop those traitorous tears. “I don’t want to go,” she breathed. “But I have to.”

His thumbs swiped over her cheeks, catching the tears in their tracks. “I know you do. We’ll figure something out, even if it’s not the easiest solution.”

Her eyes opened and found his, even as his thumb traced her bottom lip. “We will? You don’t want to…let this go?”

Rowan leaned in, just barely brushing his lips over hers. “Now that I’ve found you, fireheart, I don’t ever want to let you go.”

He kissed her then and for just a little while, they pretended she wasn’t flying home tomorrow. That the perfect couple weeks they’d had together wasn't about to end and fling them both back into the real world.

But they still had tonight.

[fluffywings13]

So found out last night while late night insomnia induced Google searching that the butt stain who brutally murdered my Aunt Rose on November 13 1987, shooting her 3 times in the chest and 3 times in the head before leaving her in a shallow grave for dead.....was paroled in 2020.

Not many of my family members who were there for the crime itself are still alive today. And the very few that are I don't talk to anymore. so As most likely one of the very few people who still think about her on a regular basis. I can't imagine how anyone could look at this crime and think that somebody like that deserves to be out of prison.

He planned the murder of my aunt for weeks. this was no crime of passion. this was no spontaneous hormone fueled rage because she dared to break up with him.. This was premeditated murder that was planned for 3 weeks where he talked about killing her and even went so far as to ask a friend of his where he could get a gun after talking about killing my aunt rose.

Nobody took him seriously. And I can see why as a teenager making these statements. Because you know you just got broken up with and you know, you thought you'd loved this girl that people may hear you say these things and think "Oh, you know, he's just a scorned lover." You know. but that wasn't the case. I know hindsight is 20/20. And I hope those people who had the chance to at least put what he was saying on the radar of people who could do something about it are forever haunted for a murder that happened that they knew somebody was planning and could have been stopped or avoided before it even came to that tragic end, but they did nothing.

I'm sorry if the punctuation and grammar and everything in this is horrible. I'm using voice to text right now. Because I'm still trying to comprehend the fact that this man who thought that being dumped by a girlfriend was punishable by death for this innocent life Guilty of nothing but deciding to date him.

[starboy14176]

OKAY ok longer summary time song by song

The album opens with American Idiot and it's not necessarily part of the story but it describes/sets the baseline for what an American Idiot is. Basically it's being complicent to the government/a patriot and not being a critical thinker. Obviously written very soon after 9/11 as a commentary on the state of the country and newly censored media as a result. Instead of being an American Idiot you should try to find your identity and individualism instead

Jesus of Suburbia is the song that starts the story and introduces the protagonist. He's "the son of rage and love" both in the case of his father being Rage and his mother being Love (love and forgiveness for her abusive husband, but not love for her son Jesus) and a product of the divided community. He's not actually supposed to be like the Christian Jesus, he's portrayed as very opposite to him. The song discusses how he's struggling in his hometown/community because of the economy and hostility and his drug addiction. So he decides to run away.

Holiday is mostly an anti-war protest, but in regards to the story, it's about Jesus living on the streets in the city. At first he's having fun, but he's still subject to the community hostility and wartime policies except now he doesn't even have a home or any friends to rely on, so leading into Boulevard of Broken Dreams he starts to slip into his depression again. He realizes that he's in an unfamiliar place with nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to rely on. He's surrounded by strangers and has no friends or family, and he's so lonely that it pushes him to his mental breaking point.

Are We The Waiting further emphasis how broken Jesus is becoming in his loneliness and depression. He thought leaving home was the best option but his idea of the bright life in the city isn't coming true. He's losing his sense of punk and rebellious identity due to his depression and current living state. This is when he splits/St. Jimmy develops in the song... well, St. Jimmy. He's the rebellious and angry identity that Jesus lost but didn't want to lose, so it came to life in Jimmy. He's loud and angry so this is why these 2 songs have such juxtaposing sounds despite being a set. Jimmy is the Rage and Jesus is the Love, and Jimmy is pretty much keeping them alive now through that rebellious attitude.

But they're still struggling on the streets of the city and their drug addiction from even before running away. Give Me Novacaine goes through Jesus being so stressed and isolated that he wants to turn to drugs again to relieve the pain. Jimmy urges and encourages this, which is why Jesus begs him to reassure him and give him the drugs to numb the pain.

At some point, they meet a girl called Whatshername in the song She's A Rebel. They fall in love with her rebellious personality and free spirit and feminist ideals. She's fiery and loud and not afraid to fight for her beliefs, which is all Jesus wants to be and all that Jimmy is. Extraordinary Girl tells about them falling in love and showcases Whatshername's rebellious spirit vs Jesus's brittle and depressed personality. Jesus loves her for it, but unfortunately she only originally fell for Jimmy and because they clash so much, she eventually dumps them and leaves, though the song depicts how she herself has a sadder and more fragile side, just like Jimmy and Jesus.

So she writes him a letter in Letterbomb explaining why she left- that she doesn't like how Jesus "hid so much of his personality from her" and that she believes he's self-destructive. She claims that St. Jimmy is a figment of Jesus's imagination based on his father's rage. The song also reflects a bit of them rebelling and trying to stay alive because "it's not over until you're underground." Though they may not want to live, they must.

Finally, Homecoming ends the story with Jesus finally going home. It starts with him reflecting on how he still misses Whatshername and how he's still hopeless on the streets without even any drugs to get him by- only Jimmy by his side as the light and rebellious spirit he needs to keep going. Unfortunately, even Jimmy can't take it anymore and kills himself in their mind. (This is where I think he probably just goes dormant?) Leaving Jesus all on his own again. This leads him to finally give up, so to speak- if nobody cares about him, why should he?- and he gets a boring office job that pays the bills and keeps him alive, but ultimately makes him miserable. He misses living on the streets and doing drugs because while it may have been hard, he was still living more than he is now. He begs for someone, anyone, to get him the fuck out of here.

He still thinks and dreams of Whatshername. He's falling asleep watching TV and drinking coffee and wishing she would come back, but she never does. Her words from her letter consume his thoughts- nobody likes him, everyone left him. Finally, he decides to go home, but it's not a good thing. He's just so broken down that he's pulled back to his hometown that broke him in the first place. He also reflects one last time on Whatshername, how he still misses her. But it was so long ago that he can't even really remember her name, but he remembers the time, and though he's trying to forget her he's still trying to remember what they did and her effect on him.

:O that’s rlly interesting I’m gonna go listen to the album with that in mind

[saltysunflowersugar]

"What if Seymour discovered different sentient plants than Twoey?": An AU dump courtesy of my Notesapp:

Piranha plant (Mario series): Since it's not trying to hide it's sentience like Audrey 2 initially was, Seymour would probably recognize it as immediately dangerous and probably not bring it back to the shop (then again, these things can behave like normal plants, as shown in Super Mario Oddessy where Peach has a bouquet of them and they don't try to bite her)

🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴🪴

Flowey (Undertale): Flowey would never care to eat anyone, but he does still want to kill people just because he's bored and he can reset the timeline so life and death wouldn't really matter to Flowey anyway. I imagine he still would have the goal of absorbing 7 human souls in order to turn back into Asriel, but I don't know how well that would actually work without being capable of eating them.

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Cow Plant (the sims): Not really all that different from twoey, the only real differences would be that it can't talk and just moos and makes gross tounge noises, and also that the deaths caused by these things probably won't reach the apocalyptic scale that the Audrey II's reach in the musical (so this AU would basically play out a little closer to the 1960 version than the musical). And as a bonus, Mushnik can also sell the Anti-Aging milk that Cow Plants produce when they eat people

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Tama/Stray Cat (Jojo's Bizzarre Adventure): This one would start with Orin accidentally-on-purpose running over a stray Prussian Blue cat with his motorcycle, and I guess because he just wants to traumatize some random kids outside of just dental work, he throws the cat's body into some random park and drives off. The next day, a gray flower with eyes, a mouth, petals shaped like cat ears, and whisker-like pistons that it uses to shoot air bubbles at its enemies. Seymour finds the cat plant and decides to take it home and names it Paw-drey (a joke Audrey greatly apprecieates :D). No faustian power bargains occur here but there were probably some people who got broken fingers from Paw-drey shooting air bubbles at them. And it kinda goes without saying that it would absolutely despise Orin for, you know, killing it. I also feel like it wouldn't be too happy with Mushnik either, no real reason tho.

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The things from the Goosebumps episode "Stay Out Of The Basement": In this AU Seymour isn't just a florist, but also a full-on botanist who makes Hybrid his own Hybrid plants. One day Mushnik has to leave town and leaves Audrey in charge while he's gone (also, for the sake of this AU, we'll say that Audrey and Seymour are already dating and Orin doesn't have anything to do with this) Audrey has been noticing her boyfriend has been acting wierd these past few weeks, he stopped calling her by the pet name they always call each other and he keeps insisting that nobody goes in the basement. Audrey decides to see why Seymour insists she stays out of the basement, only to discover that he's got leaves growing out of his hair and his bed is full of worms. Seymour locks the basement door, but Audrey breaks in with a crowbar and finds Seymour tied up among the plants with no leaves in his hair. He explains to her that he was experimenting on some Venus fly traps when he cut himself on the slide and somehow his own DNA merged with it and became a half plant, half human copy of him. The other Seymour shows up and Audrey is prepared to shoot one of them with weed killer but she doesn't know which one is the real Seymour, that is until, the real one calls her by the nickname and she kills the plant Seymour. It ends with the reveal that one of the plants Audrey pricked her finger on in the basement has merged with her DNA and became another plant copy. TL;DR: the horror wouldn't be killing people to feed the plant, but instead, the plant commiting Identity Fraud

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Venus Mcflytrap (Monster High): I mean, she's basically a human but green and with the ability to make plants grow, so I imagine she and Seymour would be beasties (Pun sort of intended). I think it would be funny if the Original Audrey 2 still exists in this universe and Venus calls it Mom, bonus points, Seymour gets called Gramps as a result even though he's probably only 3 years older than her (we don't actually know his age and it kinda varies from production to production)

[luvvsoft]

I hope this message finds you before I do 💌

n e wais, my demands are as follows. (If you don't comply I will leak ur address on this god forsaken app. DONT MAKE ME DO IT u cacaracha de cocina económica)

I DEMAND a fic where reader is older than gojo & he does silly things like:

buy her VERY expensive gifts to earn her love (don't u dare go cheap on me. I wanna see Chanel and all that shit. Everyone knows Gojo is sugar daddy material)

learn what her favorite songs are so he can "unsuspectingly" play them during their car rides.

just basically the shit u be doing for ur men fr (being delusional)

But the catch is reader doesn't see him like that bc he's younger, yet, he keeps doing everything in his power to make her see him in a different light (as in, see him romantically and not just as her "little brother")

make it so fluffy my teeth rot and I have to get them extracted immediately fr

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

contains: tooth rooting fluff, age gap, lots of spoiling, some violence

word count: 2.1k

Sigh.

Gojo was at it again. You could tell as soon as you opened the door to your apartment.

One thing you didn’t expect to see when you got home was Sephora bags on your counter. You should have come to expect it though; that’s just how Gojo was. You show the slightest interest in a product and he immediately buys it, thinking it’ll somehow make you fall in love with him.

Another sigh escaped your lips.

How were you to deal with his non-stop barrage of affection and gifts?

You opted to set your work bag down and instead focused on the multitude of bags in front of you. Slightly peeking into them, you were greeted by Charlotte Tilbury products, specifically the blush you had been talking to Gojo about for weeks. Of course that wasn’t the only thing he bought. Gojo was anything but cheap.

He’d bought you every new cosmetic product in the store. The amount was absolutely ridiculous; there was no way you’d be able to use all of them before they expired.

Your phone ringed in your pocket, prompting you to pick it up. Of course Gojo was calling you after the stunt he pulled.

“What?” you answered.

“What’s with the hostility, sweetheart? I take it you saw the gifts I left you?” You weren’t face to face with the man, but you could vividly imagine the shit-eating grin on his face when he answered.

You leave his words hanging in the air, a deadpan expression on your face from how irritable he was being. The silence was comforting until it was broken by his vexing voice once more.

“Don’t I at least get a thank you?”

“You’re an idiot. Why would you spend so much money on stuff I’ll never get around to using?”

Gojo leaned back on his chair on the other side of the call, kicking his feet up on his desk as he reached out for the framed photograph he had of you. His thumb caressed your cheek — wishing it was the real thing instead.

“Hmm, I dunno,” He murmurs, setting the picture down. “Maybe I want you to use it for our date? If you’ll ever accept to one, that is.”

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache form. You hung up on him after turning down his date proposal for the thousandth time.

“Stupid Gojo with his stupid schemes,” you whispered. Despite your words, you couldn’t help but let a tiny smile pull at your lips.

“This is stupid,” you said as you got in Gojo’s car.

“Tell that to your broken down car,” said the man who you suspected was behind your slashed tires.

‘It wasn’t him though! he insisted.’ You didn’t trust that. How else would your tires end up slashed while you were in the middle of work?

You turned away from him, sighing and deciding to instead look out the window, “Whatever, just take me home.”

Gojo could tell you were down in the dumps; he knew you had worked hard for that car, and it meant a lot to you, despite the fact that he was willing to buy you another one.

He frowned slightly before turning the radio on and connecting it to his phone.

The sudden noise startled you, “What are you doing?”

As he typed away on his phone, you assumed he was texting a girl, maybe his newest piece. It was typical behavior of someone his age. What you didn’t expect was for your favorite song to come on.

The melody lifted your mood a bit, it was relaxing. You even moved to the music. The lyrics resonated within you, pulling you out of your contemplation.

Gojo smiled at your mood changing — he could bear having to listen to your song choices, but he just couldn’t bear seeing your melancholic face as tears welled up in your starry eyes.

He was glad he had snooped through your spotify now.

Sundays were what you dubbed the “best day of the week.”

You finally had a chance to relax and unload from all your workload. Sundays were days you spent in bed just a little longer, only getting up around 10 am. They were also when you brewed a warm coffee and sat down near a candle while reading your newest favorite book.

Sundays felt homey, something that you didn’t feel throughout the week when you had to wake up early and work long hours.

You hummed as you took a sip of coffe — it was just perfect. Today was perfect: no work to do, no one to bother you, nothing to do.

You thought your day would be peaceful and quiet until you got a knock at the door. Getting up to answer, you already had a slight nklinginkling of who it was. Nevertheless, you found yourself opening the door and of course, it was Gojo Satoru in the flesh.

“Hell—“

You didnt give him a chance to finish and instead slammed the door in his face. ‘Not today,’ you thought as you closed your eyes and wished him being at your doorstep was a hallucination.

Instead of your wish being granted and you ending up drinking your coffee peacefully, you got another knock at the door.

You sighed, “Guess there’s no escaping this.”

Gojo wore a bright, blinding smile as you opened the door, “I knew you wouldn’t leave little old me at the door hanging!”

“Gojo, why are you at my door this early in the morning?”

“It’s,” he paused to take a look at his watch before continuing, “11:34 in the morning. I think I’m late, actually.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“Quite the lazy one aren’t you? Anyway, I brought peace offerings,” Gojo said as he held up the bags of takeout, IHop specifically; he knew it was your weakness. “I knew you wouldn’t let me in if I came empty handed.”

You smiled at the sight of food, ignoring how your mouth instantly watered, “Hm, I guess you can come in.” You pushed open your door wider, stepping to the side so he’d walk in.

Gojo donned his signature smile as he strutted into your place like he owned it. Even if he’d been here before, he could never stop admiring the place. It felt like home — a home he wished he shared with you.

“Don’t go snooping through my things again. I know you were looking for my family album last time,” you said with a glare as you walked towards the kitchen.

“Can’t a man be curious about his future in-laws?” The white-haired sorcerer sat down the food, quickly distracting you from his comment so you wouldn’t shut down his hopes and dreams. “Tada! I got you your favorite pancakes.”

“Thanks,” you said as you started digging in.

Gojo couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the way you hungrily wolfed down the pancakes — he almost felt bad for them.

“So, Yaga wants you to go on a mission with the new students.”

You stopped chewing midway at his words and sighed, “Is this why you came? To sweeten me up into accepting?” You muttered with half of your pancake sticking out of your mouth, your words almost incomprehensible to Gojo.

“Come on, do it for me?”

“Yeah, whatever,” you stood up and started walking away, “You can leave now.”

A frown pulled at Gojo’s pink lips, he knew you didn’t like the Jujutsu world and how unfair they were, but with the recent curse activity, he was needed elsewhere and you were the only one who he trusted to go with the students he cherished.

Nanami had already said no. Gojo feared you would too, but you loved the students too much to say no. He almost felt envious of how much you doted on them, wishing it was him instead.

He stood up, walking over to you. He tilted your chin upwards to look at him, even if he knew you didn’t want to. “I know you’re not too fond of our line of work, but you’re the only one I can trust.”

You had no choice but to look into his perfectly crafted blue eyes, how they were slowly but surely becoming your weakness. Stupid Gojo with his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid honey words.

Your resolve melted away almost instantly. “Fine.” You pulled away, “Just send over the details for the mission.”

You knew the mission was happening soon, just not this soon.

‘Curse you, Gojo,’ you thought as you looked at your text messages with him.

Pain in my ass: Just hang on, it’ll only be for a few hours >:)

He messaged you, while surely spending an absurd amount of money on sweets on the other side of the world.

“Should we be concerned for Gojo-sensei? She looks like she’s about to kill someone,” Yuji whispered to Megumi and Nobara.

He wasn’t joking. There was a deep scowl on your face while your eyes twitched at every message you got. Your pink nails dug into your palms as you got angrier and angrier. There was no doubt in Yuji’s mind that Gojo wouldn’t make it out alive when he came back.

“He brought it on himself, idiot,” Megumi said, snapping Yuji out of his thoughts.

“How?” Yuji responded.

“Gojo-sensei knows this is her only day off and specifically told us we should do this today without fail, probably just to piss her off more.”

“Hmph, Gojo has no respect for a lady’s personal time,” Nobara butted in, crossing her arms.

“Let’s go.” You had finally stopped fuming at your phone angrily.

The mission was actually quite simple — something Gojo neglected to tell you. All you had to do was watch over his students as they attempted to exorcize a curse, a test made to see if their abilities were up to par.

You could breathe a sigh of relief when they told you that. At least you wouldn’t have to use your cursed energy.

Well, you lied.

As it turns out, nobody bothered to check the curse’s grade (or the higher ups neglected to do so in order to get rid of Yuji). You were told it was a grade 3, something simple that the teenagers could handle. Now, the curse was a grade 1 that easily beat Yuji, Nobara and Megumi up.

Sigh.

You would definitely make Gojo pay for this, especially on your off day.

“Of course I have to clean up Gojo’s mess now.”

The curse easily towered over you, reaching at least 7 feet in height. It wasn’t humanoid like the other curses Gojo had encountered then told you about, though, instead, it donned a traditional Japanese yukata with the lower half of an octopus and a human torso accompanied by an ox head. Quite terrifying in your opinion — if you were a normal person, that is.

“You got this, sensei!” shouted Yuji who sat by a wall.

“Well, I’ve got students watching. Don’t disappoint me, little octopus.”

Disappoint you it didn’t. As a matter of fact, it left you stunned with its speed. It was faster than you, managing to land a strike near your ribs. That ought to cost you a pretty penny in the hospital later.

“Ohoho, I see a little octopus curse has already bruised up that pretty face of yours.”

There was that irritating voice of Gojo’s, narrating the battle as if he was actively fighting it and not you. Of course he’d come in right at the moment when you’re losing. You’d only managed to keep the curse’s limbs restricted with vines, but beyond that you couldn’t do anything. That was the curse of being a grade 3 sorcerer.

“Shut up and come help me, idiot!”

“Nah, I like seeing you put in the effort,” Gojo said as he stood around. You could see the bag of mochi he was holding, offering some to your students as a way of showing his unbothered nature by the situation.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You’re paying my hospital bill after this.”

“Say please.”

“YOU WANT ME TO BEG YOU TO HELP??” Disbelief coursed through your veins and was as clear as day on your face. There was no way you’d plead Gojo for help.

Well, yes there was.

“Please.”

You had no strength left to deal with a curse of that level; Gojo was now your only option. You knew how to pick your battles, after all (or so you’d like to think).

“Now, in exchange for a kiss on the cheek, I’ll definitely help.”

He had to be joking — there was absolutely no way that would be happening.

He wasn’t joking.

“You’re an idiot,” you whispered in Gojo’s ear as you pressed your lips to his cheek, sealing your fate.

“I can die happy now,” Gojo said as he made a stupidly in love face.

“CAN’T YOU TAKE CARE OF THE CURSE FIRST?!?”

[scorbleeo]

Book Chat: Tower of Dawn

Throne of Glass (Book 6) by Sarah J. Maas

Source: Google Images

Chaol Westfall has always defined himself by his unwavering loyalty, his strength, and his position as the Captain of the Guard. But all of that has changed since the glass castle shattered, since his men were slaughtered, since the King of Adarlan spared him from a killing blow, but left his body broken.

His only shot at recovery lies with the legendary healers of the Torre Cesme in Antica--the stronghold of the southern continent's mighty empire. And with war looming over Dorian and Aelin back home, their survival might lie with Chaol and Nesryn convincing its rulers to ally with them.

But what they discover in Antica will change them both--and be more vital to saving Erilea than they could have imagined.

ISBN: 9781681199221 (2018) | Source: Goodreads

Don't Skip This Book

Before I begin, Chaol ranks quite low in my list of heroes in the Throne of Glass series. For the longest time now, he annoys me. I don't actually hate him but I never understood why Maas liked him so much. You know what, I don't understand why anyone liked him as much as they did. Hated it when Celaena chose him over Dorian. Was extremely pissed off when Dorian pretty much sacrificed himself for him. And when Celaena made her return in I think Queen of Shadows(?), oh my god, Chaol's reaction to all that was so bullshit. This series went on and I found myself slowly loving all the heroes, then there's Chaol where he continued to piss me off as we went on. To say I was not looking forward to reading Tower of Dawn after seriously enjoying Empire of Storms is an understatement.

So, Tower of Dawn. I must admit, when I was into the first few chapters, I did not understand why couldn't this book be a novella as it was originally planned to be. Maas already did so much world building and reinforcing the foundations of this series, why did she suddenly in the second last book of this series, decide to bring in a whole new country, race, well...world? As I continued diving deeper into this book, I understood why this had to be a book itself. Should the world in Tower of Dawn be made aware earlier on in the series? Perhaps we could have done with more talks about Antica, the magical healers and definitely some sound on the Darghans or if not, the Rukhin???

Despite a bunch of new information being dumped onto me, Tower of Dawn was a pretty enjoyable read. The pacing was steadily fast, which I always appreciate. Though there was a whole lot of information dump, it was very easy to grasp what's new and what's going on with the new information. The newly added characters were hella easy to get acquainted with as well. You would think since we're already nearing the end of Throne of Glass, you wouldn't find a connection with a bunch with new characters but that would be inaccurate because Yrene or Sartaq? Hell, Hafiza, Hasar, Borte or even Falkan? I even found a connection with Shen and Kadja. Say what you like with Sarah J. Maas but she is extremely talented in creating some of the best side or minor characters that will leave you thinking about them despite their smaller roles.

I started this prefacing that Chaol's not a favourite but I find myself gravitating towards talking about his character development more than other characters in this book. As much as it was nice to finally understand just how broken Chaol is both mentally and physically, it does not justify him being an ass in the earlier books. However, I still very much appreciated seeing how guilty he was and how much shit he gave himself for everything that happened before. It helped me understand why he was the way he was although I will not let it slide that he annoys the hell out of me. The best thing Maas did for Chaol was make him Yrene's. Truly. And because this man literally survived two direct Valg attacks on his fragile human body, I will cut him some slack.

There. I think there is a group of readers out there that might consider skipping Tower of Dawn and heading straight to the final book. However, coming from someone who is not a Chaol fan, just read this book. It is, after all, not a novella or a companion novel. Tower of Dawn is an essential part of this series.

Rating: ★★★★☆

P.S.: This was such a small detail in Tower of Dawn but damn, I just love reading about Rowan from anyone's point of view except his freaking carranam. To everyone else, Rowan's this Fae that one should never pray on their worst enemies, like see, that Fae is one cool dude. Then in comes Aelin and he's just a simp, not that that's wrong but it's boring...

More on Sarah J. Maas's works here:

A Court of Frost and Starlight (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #3.5)

Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass, #5)

[bucknastysbabe]

Ser Criston Cole HC’s

So the uptight white knight himself. Criston Cole. I have thoughts. *rubs hands together* Let’s get into it.

Tags: SFW, Groomy behavior, Targaryen!reader, possessive behaviors, obsession, murder, attempted assault (not by Criston), religious fanaticism, MENTAL ILLNESS

Setting the scene- Aight let’s say the reader is a Targaryen. Alysanne and Jaehaerys last daughter, Gael almost had a child. In canon, she was seduced by a bard and impregnated. She committed suicide in 99AC. So in my version the child survived, Gael did not and the babe would be 2 years younger than Rhaenyra. Aemma and Viserys adopted her, kept it hush-hush.

She’s a sweet thing, overtly pious, definitely the crazy half of the Targ coin later on. The opposite of the willful and hot-headed Rhaenyra. Still Nyra drags her along into escapades. Even asks for her surrogate sister’s approval of picking Ser Criston as a Knight of the Kingsguard.

Rhaenyra and Criston still have their folly and she dumps him. Her sister watches from a distance, praying for the two to figure everything out. Alicent decides to swear Criston to the younger sister, thinking the other one’s piousness will make him feel better and secure. And at first he’s annoyed. He sees Rhaenyra in the other ones looks but nothing else— he’s trying to move on dammit!

Rhaenyra is hip to hip with Ser Harwin now, even if married. Criston is stewing in jealousy, even snapping at the poor younger sister. His chest twisted when she sniffled and asked to go to the sept. She stayed in her quarters for the rest of the day, then called Criston in before dinner.

She had made a fine needlepoint piece displaying the imagine of the warrior— but they bore the garb of his station. On that day Criston decided to leave his anger behind and treat his sworn princess how she should be treated. The girl is DELIGHTED. Even makes the Knight sit through her readings and ramblings about the Seven, he actually pays attention. The big man is often spotted next to the dainty Targaryen in the Godswood, being read to.

She turns 17 and Criston is having a Crisis. He knows they’re going to marry her off and scares off any lordling sniffing around the keep. The dreamy princess is hardly aware, just enjoys his company. She holds his hand once and asks him to pray with her. Criston Cole’s broken heart felt mended for a change. He would serve any man’s head on a platter for his princess.

Walking from the Great Sept, they get separated. The knight is frantic, shoving people aside and threatening lives. He chokes out a gold cloak until they spill of a raucous down a nearby alley. Criston sprints and finds his dear girl being stripped and groped by vagrants. His heart cracks and vision goes red at the sound of her tears and sobbing prayers.

The men are dead. Cut into pieces. One’s face is gone. The princess is alright though— just shaken and bruised. Criston holds her as she cries. He murmurs, “I can’t let you out of my sight, precious, I don’t know what I would do.” She pets his hair and whispers, “I won’t leave your sight anymore. The Father blessed you with me, my very own version of the Warrior.” She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, if tears mixed they didn’t make a comment.

Criston stands watch inside her quarters now. He likes to see her face smoothed in sleep. He will soothe her when she has nightmares and sit next to his princess in a sturdy chair, holding her delicate hand as she prays. Sleepily she sighs, “I wish vows weren’t so serious.” Criston blinks— he can’t do this again. But he could.

His docile dragon knows of his past, prayed for him, didn’t even judge. Criston rasps, “I’d give anything to steal you away.” She replies, “Just keep the unholy lords away from me and I’ll have you forever. The maiden and the warrior come again, we can’t ruin that.” The knight nodded along, sucking in every word. He slept next to her in his small clothes that night, holding her body chastely. He would bury himself in her body and live there if he could.

Every man that makes intentions to marry the second daughter of Viserys either runs off screaming or ends up dead in peculiar ways. Criston’s princess gave him a kiss or something more each time he committed an act to protect their divine love.

Rhaenyra is getting suspicious. Harwin even reports that her surrogate sister sits and watches Criston when he trains the boys. They’re practically inseparable, and when they are it’s a pain in the ass. He’s violent and short-tempered, her quiet and melancholy.

Rhaenyra goes to Viserys and points this out. Alicent, eager to rid of another Black and get the white knight back on task proposes the idea of letting the Princess become a Septa. Viserys shrugs and thinks it would be good for her since she can’t seem to get betrothed. So in the dark of the night she’s taken to Oldtown, crying and scratching. Three kingsguard and two gold cloaks hold back Cole.

They both cry for eachother. Criston grows even more bitter at Rhaenyra for taking his maiden away. The pious princess walks into the sea, praying to be reunited with her Warrior. Criston’s soul turns to stone when the raven arrives. He swears to take down the dragon cunt himself. He’s too broken to realize Alicent was a part of it. The knight never is the same again.