#but the ghost of my dead brother possessed me so i had to

[syndrossi]

Restoration AU: Jon I

Previous part, Ned I, here.

x~x~x

Jon knew where Robb would go next, and that his presence would be more unwelcome than ever, so it was the solitude of the godswood he sought instead. Better than roaming the castle halls or grounds, where he could already feel stares following him, and hear whispers falling to silence in his wake. Theon’s handiwork, no doubt.

Brothers. Jon stared into the dark pool at the base of the heart tree, feeling as though he might wake up from a dream at any moment. He had always longed to know more about his mother, and it was plain as day that those boys were kin. With the other Jon—my name, why would she give him the same name?—it had been like staring into a mirror. They looked even more alike to him than Arya, which surely meant they shared a mother too.

Why is she not here with them?

Jon burned with questions. He had been since Jory had helped the boys up onto the horses, the one named Jon with the captain, and the other with Robb. The choice had felt deliberate on Jory’s part, as deliberate as their return by the Hunter’s Gate, bearing further shame for Lord Stark.

Had he loved his mother, then? Jon knew that it did not take love to sire children, that base lust would suffice, but his father was no Theon. If he had gone back to her, that meant he had missed her.

He took me from her, but not my brothers. Had he known about them? There had been a wide-eyed recognition in his father’s eyes when he beheld them, but Jon did not know if that was because he had not expected them, or because he had not known of their birth.

They had been abandoned in the wolfswood, too, at risk of freezing in the cold. Two children who could not be older than Arya.

She is dead. Jon knew it in his heart. If she had kept his little brothers for this long without telling his father, then she would not have easily parted with them, and certainly not in such a way as to endanger them. She is dead and I will never know her.

But his brothers had, and he could not help the ache of jealousy in his heart. They had not known their father, he reminded himself. Each of them had grown up half-orphaned, mistrusted for their very nature.

And it was plain to see that they had grown up in a lord’s household as well. Their dress was fine, and they had been comfortable speaking to Robb. Despite their shivering, they had walked confidently through the halls of Winterfell. That sense of belonging was not one that a baseborn bastard would possess.

Had she been highborn herself then? There was so much he longed to ask his father, questions he had not dared before. If he will answer, even now.

Motion flickered in the periphery of his vision, and he turned his head to see his father approaching as though summoned by his thoughts. His little brothers were at his side, and they had been changed into warmer clothing that Jon recognized as belonging to him and Robb when they were younger.

I looked like that once, he thought as he watched the other Jon. There would be no confusing his other brother, Raymar, for Robb of course. Their mother must have had uncommonly fair hair, more silver than golden. It was a color Jon had not seen in the north. The closest he could recall was a blond-haired whore who Theon had favored for a time, and the memory of it brought a clench to his stomach. He could already hear Theon’s voice drawing the comparison.

“Jon,” his father called in quiet greeting once they had reached him. His face, which could be by turns stern or gentle, was neither. It was almost uneasy, as it had been when they had come upon Ghost’s mother, dead in the snow.

“Which one?” Jon asked.

His counterpart did not react to the bite in his question, though their father grimaced. “I am Willam now.”

Lord Stark put a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders. “These are your twin brothers, Willam and Raymar.” He glanced down at the boys, taking in a breath. “And this is your brother Jon.”

Jon had stolen sidelong glances at the boys on their way to his father’s solar. Now that they were right before him, no longer shivering with cold, he took his time in study. He and the other Jon—Willam—were not exactly alike, he could see now. His own face was slightly longer, his hair and eyes a shade darker. There were subtle differences in the shape of their eyes and mouth, though they were close enough that Jon felt like he was looking into a mirror some five years before.

He could easily see himself in Raymar as well, though his coloring made the differences more dramatic, the boy’s eyes a striking purple. Jon struggled to find their father in him, however. He must favor our mother, the way Robb does Lady Stark. Jon had been teased before for his own locks, which he wore longer than Robb’s or Theon’s, but Raymar’s were far longer, giving him an exotic look that did not match his name.

Both children were subdued, as though numbed by the shock of the day’s events, and there was a tension to either of grief held in check. Jon, who had been ready to demand answers of their father, felt some of his hurt-fueled anger falter.

They had been alone, abandoned, their lives upended. Winterfell was at least Jon’s home, and the Starks his family. But to his little brothers, they were all strangers. Jon tried to imagine someone setting Bran or Arya loose to wander alone in a cold summer snow, far from home, and his blood flared hot.

“Hello,” Jon said, softening his voice. “I am glad to meet you.”

Willam approached first, gaze solemn with understanding, and Jon hugged him. His brother did not relax, though he returned the hug. Raymar was next, his violet eyes taking in Jon’s features with the same intensity as his own study, shifting between him and Willam. His upset seemed to grow, and Jon could feel the shake of it in his limbs as Jon pulled him into an embrace.

I have true brothers and I never knew. But on the heels of that anger came guilt. Robb is no less my brother, nor are any of my siblings.

“What happened?” Jon asked, meeting his father’s gaze. “Why were they abandoned in the snow? Where is—”

Where is our mother?

“Come,” Lord Stark said. “Such matters must be discussed in the privacy of my solar.”

Jon felt his eyes narrow. “First I would have you stand before the heart tree and tell me of my mother.”

Lord Stark’s discomfort seemed to grow, only confirming Jon’s suspicions. He wishes to continue to withhold the truth.

It was Willam who spoke, moving to press his hand against the weeping face of the weirwood tree. “Our mother’s name was Rhea. She died two years ago.”

Jon had been expecting it, but still the blow caught him in the chest. Rhea. He knew his mother’s name at last, and she was dead. He could not help the sagging of his shoulders, or the sudden ache of his throat.

“Did you love her?”

His question was for his father, who stepped before the tree as well, his sorrow plain as he placed his hands on Jon’s shoulders. “I loved your mother, yes.”

Jon had dreamt of hearing his father say those words for most of his life, but they left him hollow now. He had been a product of love, born of a woman his father had perhaps wished he could marry instead, and yet it did not matter. She was dead, and the legacy she had left was one of regret.

“Come,” Lord Stark repeated, hand squeezing his shoulder.

The stares were even worse in Lord Stark’s presence, his father’s face a stony mask as he led his three bastard sons through the halls of Winterfell and into his solar. Jon sat down by the hearth, half-numb, while his brothers settled on the couch. He should have sat with them; they looked overwhelmed, but he could not bring himself to.

“Who was she?” he asked, knowing that he should be asking what had happened to his brothers instead. “What was her house?”

His father had chosen to stand by the fire, his back to it, shrouding his face in shadow, but it could not hide the tension in his frame at the question. Even now, with her two years dead, he does not wish to speak of her. Perhaps it was love or guilt or grief—or perhaps it was regret that the evidence of greater dishonor still had come knocking upon his door.

“Her family was from Lys,” Raymar said, answering the question instead. “House Perzane. We grew up in Gulltown, but were sent to live with kin there, after her death.”

House Perzane. Jon did not know much about the houses of the Free City of Lys, but it explained both Raymar’s odd coloring and the twins’ noble upbringing. He had never considered that his mother might not even be of the Seven Kingdoms.

“What did she look like?” Jon asked.

Raymar’s gaze dropped. “Me,” he said, his voice small. “She looked like me.”

And now he was surrounded by kin who looked nothing like her. Willam reached for his brother’s hand, but he snatched it away, angling away from his twin. Jon leveled a look at their father, whose fists had clenched but otherwise made no move to comfort his own child.

Jon stood then and joined them on the couch, squeezing in next to Raymar to gather him in for a hug. “I am sorry,” he told the boy. “I wish I had known her.”

“They were taken from their mother’s kin,” Lord Stark said stiffly. “I assume their abductors had learned of their relation to me and sought ransom.”

Or perhaps blackmail, Jon thought cynically. How much would Lord Stark have paid to keep their existence a secret, had they not been found wandering alone?

“How did you come to be on the edge of the wolfswood?” Jon asked, turning to the twins.

“Jon—Willam stabbed that man who took us,” Raymar said, still staring into his own lap. “We ran into the wood.”

“We were close,” Willam added. “We could see smoke from the castle rising into the sky.”

Jon wondered what their captor’s plan had been. To march them directly to the gates of Winterfell? Perhaps he had thought that Lord Stark would want his bastard sons, since he had taken Jon in as a babe, and had instead sought a reward.

“He did not hurt you, did he?” Jon asked, looking them over for signs of injury.

They shook their heads in unison, and it was his father who spoke. “They were dosed with dreamwine to keep them docile.”

A wise measure, given that little Willam had managed to wound their captor gravely enough for them to escape. “Has their captor been found?”

“I have sent men in search,” Lord Stark said grimly. “If he yet lives, I doubt he will come here.”

Jon frowned at the thought of the man escaping. “Let me join them.”

“No. Your brothers will need your strength.”

His meaning was plain. “You spoke with Lady Stark.”

His father grimaced. “I have not. Once your brothers are settled, I shall go to her.”

Who will she hate more? The bastard she knows, or the two that are proof that she comes second in his heart? Jon looked down at the dark and light-haired heads of his brothers, feeling a surge of pity. They do not deserve her scorn.

“Take them to your chamber,” his father continued. “They will stay with you for now.”

For now. “Do you mean to be rid of them?” Jon demanded.

“No,” Lord Stark said with a quiet sigh. His gaze swept the three of them, and Jon caught another glimpse of that unease. He is worried. Did he fear reprisal from House Tully? Unrest amongst his bannermen? Jon was unsure why. He would hardly be the first lord to sire three bastards. “You do not shame me, Jon, nor do they. The shame is mine alone.”

Only it wasn’t. A lord was untouchable to most, above jeers and japes. A lord’s bastard sons, however, were not. And it was not Lord Stark who had borne Lady Stark’s jealousy.

“When do you mean to introduce them to the rest of their siblings?”

Jon had shied away from thinking about them, especially Robb and Sansa. Robb had always admired their father, and held him as a man of upstanding character. It had been easy for his brother to dismiss his infidelity before as a young husband at war who had not yet had enough time with his new wife. He had not blamed Jon, but now—

And Sansa had never viewed Jon with particular kindness, preferring to keep a distance. It did not bother him too greatly these days, since she was just a girl while Jon was near a man, but his little brothers would not have the same armor if they had grown up with their mother’s family. 

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” his father said after a long moment in thought. “I need to speak with their mother first. It would be best if you took supper with your brothers in your chamber tonight.”

Jon smiled without humor. “But we do not shame you, of course.”

“Jon—”

“I will take them there,” Jon interrupted, not caring that their father looked sad and tired. He sprang to his feet, and held out a hand to his newfound brothers, forcing warmth into his smile. “Come along.”

x~x~x

They did not go directly to Jon’s chamber. He did not care if it was a bad idea to venture out, there was one thing capable of cheering him and comforting young boys, and he was currently nursing in the kennels, which were at least mostly out of the way of any would-be gawkers.

“Wait out here,” Jon bade them before slipping into the building.

Ghost was curled up next to his direwolf littermates, as well as their adoptive hound siblings, dozing lightly. He wriggled with excitement as Jon picked him up and tucked him into his shirt, and his smile felt like his first true one since finding the twins shivering in the snow.

It instantly faded as he stepped out to find Theon outside the kennels, leaning on the fence as he looked the twins over.

“I heard we had some fresh snow,” Theon said with a smirk. “I did not take the honorable Lord Stark for a man who would keep a mistress. Some pretty thing from Lys, maybe, with a bush as white as her hair.” He thrust a hand out, ruffling Raymar’s hair for a second before the boy ducked out of his reach. “Where did he find the time?”

“It must have been when he was on the way to crush the Greyjoy Rebellion,” Willam said, his voice cold as ice. “He made quite a few widows there before your father begged for peace.”

Theon’s mirth disappeared, hand twitching at his side as though he wished to cuff the boy, and Jon immediately stepped between them, fists balling. He was hungry for a fight, and he did not care that Theon was larger and close to full-grown. “Try it, Greyjoy.”

His father’s ward backed down after a moment. “They’re as mouthy as you, Snow. You would do well to teach them what a bastard’s place is in the world.”

With that, Theon shoved off, disappearing through the gate into the castle’s courtyard. Jon took a few breaths to reclaim his composure, not wanting to walk into the yard looking upset. Willam was glaring after Theon with a dark fury that surprised him, leaving him to wonder if bastards were treated differently in Lys. Perhaps it was more like Dorne, where it was said a man’s bastards were held as equal to his trueborn children.

The quiet shock that had yet to leave Raymar seemed to tell a similar story. Jon put a hand on his back. “Let’s go.”

Jon did not relax until they had successfully navigated the halls without running into Lady Stark. He did not want his little brothers to face her venom just yet, not without warning. Once they were safely in his chamber, he dragged his chair from the hearth over to his bed, and gestured for his brothers to take the bed.

“Here,” Jon said. He reached into his shirt and withdrew a sleepy Ghost, setting him gently on the bed between them. “This is Ghost.”

Their eyes went wide, both children extending a hand to the direwolf pup, which he happily nosed and then licked. But before Jon could feel any triumph at managing to comfort them, he realized that Willam was crying. He could tell the boy was trying to hold it in, but the bed practically shook under the force of his quiet sobs.

“It’s all right,” Jon assured him, though the words felt empty. 

His brother’s tears seemed to unleash a similar flood in Raymar, and Jon was faced with two silently crying children on his bed, their pain reaching deep into Jon as well. There was something hauntingly familiar about strangling the hurt until you choked, knowing that it was not your place to burden others with it.

If their birth came from the Greyjoy Rebellion, they cannot be older than Bran. They looked closer to Arya’s age, but it was said that bastards grew faster than trueborn sons. Jon abandoned his chair, clambering up onto the bed with them to pull them into a hug, one in each arm. Just because he had been alone with his pain in this room, it did not mean they need be.

“I want to go home,” Raymar said, the words half-mumbled into Jon’s chest.

“All will be well,” Jon promised. “I will look after you, and so will Ghost.”

He helped them out of their boots and their borrowed cloaks, noting their exhaustion through the tears, and tucked them in beneath the furs of his bed. Ghost licked worriedly at their faces, until the heartbreak on Willam’s face turned to a tremulous smile, his fingers burying into the pup’s fur with each stroke.

“Take some rest with Ghost,” Jon said. “I will wake you when it is supper, and I can tell you all about Winterfell.”

[tangledinink]

[crabs-nonsense]

You are bullied by ghosts: time loop edition

‘You are trying to slap some sense into your ex-boyfriend, while he does not let you sleep.’

[starry-bi-sky]

Out of Context Stuff for a Danyal Al Ghul au i haven't posted - Pit Beast Danyal

Damian, 13: Look, Danyal, -- I am so sorry for everything that happened between us in the League, I hope you can forgive me.

Danny, 10 (allegedly): (has been secretly plotting to murder Damian this whole time, is still gonna do it obvs, but is going to make it significantly less painful now)

Danny: I-- of course, older brother. :]

--------

Bruce: what do you have there, Damian?

Damian:

Danny: (a hulking 10ft pit beast standing beside him, growling idly with ram horns gouging out his eyes and a second set of horns jutting into the air, spines down his back, and a long, spiked tail with an animalistic, skull-like face)

Damian, who smuggled him in (they've made amends): a smoothie, father

----------

Damian: this is my little brother Danyal, i murdered him when he was five. He festered in rage for the last half-a decade, took over a League mountain base in Switzerland, murdered everyone inside and then tried to murder me when I went to investigate with Drake.

Danny: hello!

Damian: we're cool now

----------

Damian: thoughts on resurrection

Danny, (a full ghost): i will succeed in murdering you if you try it

Damian: we'll put a pin in it then

----------

Danny (still instilled with League values): why don't we just murder him??

Damian, on patrol (Danny followed him): we don't murder people, Danyal

Danyal:,,,,are you sick, Dami?? Have you been possessed? Why not!?

(There is raucous laughing through the comms)

----------

Danny, five, pre-death: Dami! :D

Danny, dead, vengeful: Older brother (:

Danny, post-forgiveness: Dami! :]

-------

For some actual context: Danny is fully dead in this au, its a result of the classic DPxDC Demon Twins "death duel" trope but instead of Danny getting revived, he stays fully dead. Danny was five, Damian was seven. His ghost lingered though, and due to the proximity of the pits his ghost steadily absorbed the ambient energy it was letting off. The pits are not corrupted ectoplasm in this au, it's just liquid ecto.

Which means Danny's corruption from an angry and hurt little ghost boy to an unrecognizable monster is from his own doing. It's a result of him stewing in his hurt and anger for years, it physically warped him. He's very powerful. Danny can travel between League Bases but chose a small, out-of-the-way base in the Swiss mountains to fester in and then just. Never Left.

His influence steeped into the very foundations of the building, allowing him to transform and warp the rooms and hallways for his own bidding, Meaning he could turn it into a seemingly unending labyrinth if he so wished to, and block the entrance.

Eventually, blinded (both metaphorically and physically) by his own rage, Danny grew powerful enough to appear physically in the living realm and attacked everyone in the base, slaughtering them all and leaving the base abandoned. He attacks anyone who dares enter -- whether that be other league members, or the unfortunate hiker who stumbled across the base. His conscious is steeped into every nook and cranny of the building, there is nowhere you can hide where he can't find. Nobody leaves without his explicit say so. Nobody ever does.

Him appearing as ten years old before Damian in the skits above is his own physical doing. First it was to prevent Damian from being suspicious of him. Damian initially thought Danny was revived with the pits, he was too busy with his own training afterwards to notice that Danny never showed up again, and when he did notice, he assumed it was because Danny was too ashamed of his loss to face him. He'd always forget to ask about him.

Then it becomes a personal choice to appear as ten. It's how old he would've been had he been alive.

danny forgiving Damian is kinda for an offshoot branch of the main au. Whereas the main au takes the form of a ps4 first person horror game where Damian and Tim are investigating the Base for Plot Reasons. There's no sign of the rumored "monster" living inside until the end, where Danny, who was found inside the Base and has been happily "helping" them look around, manages to persuade Damian into splitting off from Tim in order to "show him something."

This something turns out to be Danny revealing that he never really forgave Damian for that fight, and he reveals through a horrifying transformation, that he was the monster the whole time. Which the game subtly hints at throughout as Danny's strange behavior becomes harder to ignore.

First from his insistence to only refer to Damian as "older brother" (when before the duel he always called him Damian or Dami), to him right off the bat denying the existence of a monster when questioned. ("There's no monster here, older brother. It's just me.") To other various things, like his knowledge of the outside world not matching up to modern times or things going on with the league outside of the base, or what happened to the other league members.

This whole idea was inspired by the song "Scylla" from Epic the Musical, with Danyal being the voice of Scylla as well as Odysseus, while Damian stands as Eurylochus. The instrumentals after Scylla says "hello" is him turning into the pit beast, and Scylla's "drown in your sorrow and fears" part is danny, as the pit beast, snarling at Damian while he attacks him.

There's a Good Ending, a Bad Ending, and a True Ending. The Bad Ending results in Damian being killed by Danny, it happens when Damian decides not to question or suspect Danny and treats him kindly. The Bad Ending is a cutscene, where Danny kills Damian quick and painlessly.

Meanwhile the Good Ending is Damian killing Danny. This is a boss fight, and it happens when Damian treats Danny coldly and suspiciously the whole time. Danny as a result, decides to make Damian's death painful as he had planned to, which is why it's a boss fight because it only causes him to double down on his anger.

The True Ending is Damian escapes with Tim. It happens when you treat Danny warmly up until the last minute, where when Danny proposes to Damian that he wants to show him something, Damian goes to talk to Tim and finally, reluctantly agrees that something is off with Danny, and that he'll be careful going in. It starts off with the boss fight until a third through, where it then changes to a cutscene where Tim manages to get the door open and Damian escapes out. It's then a chase scene down a never-ending hallway as the building actively works to keep you trapped inside. But you eventually make it to the exit so long as you avoid all the projectiles and doors.

Remember when I mentioned that Danny only lets people leave when he wants them to? That's where the treating Danny kindly throughout the game comes into play. It causes him to second guess himself and, eventually, reawaken and strengthen the love and admiration he had for Damian prior to his murder. It's why in the Bad Ending he kills Damian quickly -- because by then, he loves him enough that he doesn't want him to suffer, but is still so consumed by his rage and need for vengeance that he kills him anyways. That quiet part is what allows Damian (and Tim) to find the exit, because some part of Danny still loves Damian enough that he wants him to live.

The True Ending ends with a cutscene of Damian and Tim tumbling out into the snow/grass outside of the base. Damian looks up back to the entrance to see Danny standing there. But rather than a ten year old boy, there's a little five year old Danyal Al Ghul instead. He stares at Damian emotionlessly, blood seeping from his chest, staining his clothes, and little, bloody sword in his hands and tearstains on his cheeks, before he turns away and disappears back into the building.

[obxsummer]

wave of you // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: more treasure hunting continues but your group takes time to enjoy the perfect surf day. it was perfect, that is until topper’s girlfriend becomes unhinged and you find yourself in the middle of an argument with… rafe cameron coming to your defense?

warnings: the usual obx angst, anxiety attacks, mentions of PTSD, cursing, crying. yeah.

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

Sarah and John B had beat your half of the group back to the house, Kiara having been running the shop in the unexpected absences. After taking a shower to scrub the hospital off of you and changing into the comfiest clothes you could find, you joined everyone in the living area where everyone was sharing their half of the past few hours. 

John B and Sarah had taken the amulet to get an inscription translated into what you found out said Where the living and dead collide, the gatekeeper will guide the way, whatever that meant. They were kicked out shortly after revealing where the object was from, the individual telling them it was cursed. 

“Genrette was obsessed with Blackbeard, so maybe directions to his treasure?” John B theorized as he handed the amulet over to JJ.

“So, what is this treasure?” Cleo continued, “Gold?”

Pope shook his head. “No, I remember hearing something about like a… a crown, blue crown?”

His suggestion was immediately vetoed by Cleo and Kiara, neither girl believing a word he offered. You sighed and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around you as you listened to them bicker. 

“Apparently, it is the most sought out artifact in the ancient world,” John B read off a page of a book he’d grabbed from the shelf. You squinted at the object in his hand, quietly asking yourself when your brother of all people read a book. “The blue crown was created for Darius the Great of Persia over 3,000 years ago.”

“That’s worth more than 50k.”

John B ignored JJ’s comment and continued, “It was said to possess the blessing of the gods themselves, granting the wearer immense favor and rare invincibility. Holy shit, look at this. Xerxes, the son of Darius the Great, he was a badass. He’s wearing it. Uh, Alexander the Great, beat the shit out of everybody. He’s wearing it. Julius Caesar, also a badass, murdered a bunch of people.”

“Dad told you all of this?” You asked him as he read the names off the pages. Pushing yourself to your feet, you moved to stand behind JJ and rested your chin on his shoulder as you looked over at what they were reading. He moved you into his side, thumb brushing your hip bone as he tugged you close.

John B shook his head at your question, glancing up at you. “No, no. I don’t remember any of this, I just know it granted wishes.”

“Like a genie?”

“Hold on, it says right here the crown was lost sometime in the 1700s, but it was rumored to be hunted down by… Blackbeard.”

There was no argument that the direction of the treasure hunt had been changed when it came to a priceless item versus 50k. The whole night shifted, turning into a bonfire and celebration between the group that brought everyone’s spirits back up.

“Oh, come on!” You complained as Pope smacked your burnt marshmallow from his face, sending the treat into the grass a few feet away. “Pope, that was my fuckin’ marshmallow!”

“I’ll make you a different one! The burnt ones are ass!”

You groaned in response and fake pouted before shaking the can of beer in your hand to find it empty. The six of you had been out here since sundown, embracing the thrill of the evening and what lay ahead. Despite hating the danger your group always seemed to head into, you missed this feeling of nostalgia and anticipation. 

JJ’s hands grabbed your hips as you got up from your folding chair, bumping into him as you did so. You covered his hand in the one that didn’t have an empty can and smiled at him. “My knight in shining armor.”

“At your service, baby,” He replied instantly, trading your empty can for the fresh one he had next to him. Once it was securely in your hand, he tugged on your waist until you fell into his lap, a squeal escaping your lips before the two of you lost balance with the momentum and tumbled backward into the grass. 

You screamed in shock, your beer flying away in the chaos as you rolled off JJ who was high off his ass and giggling loudly at the fall. You couldn’t stop the laughter escaping your lips and dropped into the grass completely, overwhelmed with happiness for the first time in what felt like forever. “You dumbass!” 

“C’mere!” 

Another yelp escaped you as JJ swooped you off the lawn and over his shoulder, hauling your ass toward the house with no explanation. 

“Oh come on!” John B groaned and covered his eyes with his hand as JJ carried you out of view, various whistles from the ground following. “Fuckin’ hate you, JJ!”

JJ flipped your brother off with his free hand and walked into the house, closing the door with his shoe before he gently placed your feet on the ground. You grinned up at him, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. 

“Did you need something?” You teased and faked innocence as you fluttered your eyelashes to drive the effect home.

JJ tsked his tongue, his fingers cupping your neck before he kissed you roughly, moaning at the way your body fell into him without hesitation. You knew he wasn’t going to hold back very long and there was a 100% chance your friends could walk in at any moment.

“Upstairs,” You rushed out as his lips dropped to your neck, nipping softly at your skin to make your knees even weaker. “Jay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled, his kisses stopping long enough for him to crouch and loop his arms around your ass and waist and pick you up, your ankles crossing behind his back, supported by his strong grip. “Lemme love on you.”

You hummed, kissing him again and biting gently on his bottom lip in response to his request. “You can love on me as much as you went when it’s not somewhere John B can see it.”

JJ groaned and shook his head. “Please stop bringing up your brother when we’re making out.”

You laughed loudly as he started walking up the stairs to your room, his kisses lingering on your collarbone and his grip tight as he did. The lack of light was welcomed as you landed on the bed with a laugh, barely having a second to pull your shirt off and drop your shoes before JJ was hovering over you with a hungry desire in his eyes and a whole night to make you his, again and again, just as he intended to.

--

The next morning was a haze of blissful kisses and a warm shower between you and JJ, the house still silent as everyone slept. Your boyfriend wrapped you in a soft towel, pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you he was going to check on the shack. It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes before he was running through the house, waking everyone up and telling them about the swell.

The warm sunlight was shining through the window as you slipped on a swimsuit for the day, taking the time to brush your skin with sunscreen and grabbing one of John B’s lightweight shirts to slip on over your shoulders. The boys were already down prepping the boards with Kiara as you and Sarah took the time to make breakfast for everyone, knowing food would easily be forgotten in the excitement of the day.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you guys are seriously surfing today?” Pope walked across the screened-in porch while shoving his backpack on his shoulders.

You frowned at the sight of him in everyday clothes and not swimwear, “And you aren’t?”

Ever since you were little, you’d spent every surf day with the boys and Kiara. It was like the second the news of a perfect swell hit town, all bets were off and the beach was calling your name. Pope was usually the one to drag you out of bed for it, so to see him walking away was a surprise.

“Well, I don’t want to sell the million dollars I have in my hand for 50k so, I’m gonna look into this.” He held up the amulet for emphasis.

JJ looked just as confused as you did. “Wait, Pope. Didn’t you hear me? It’s a perfect swell day.”

“Yeah, and there will be other swell days.”

Low whistles and ‘ooohs’ followed his statement, the group collectively disagreeing with his mindset. John B turned to Sarah from his spot where he was waxing your board. “You wanna maximize beach day?”

Sarah pursed her lips. “I wanna maximize this tan.”

You bit into your toast and pushed at her with your toes. “Sarah Cameron, I know you used to be a Kook but you’ll learn how to surf the Pogue way today.”

She rolled her eyes in fake annoyance before pushing at your foot, sending you off balance from your stool as you yelped before laughing. 

“Well, everyone have fun maximizing.” 

“Wait!” You called out to Pope as he turned on his heels to leave. “Where’s Cleo? I have to see her on a board. She’s gotta be insane with it.”

Pope shrugged, “She texted me, said she’s looking for bait in The Cut.”

“Lame, tell her we’re closed!” Kie argued back.

JJ continued to try and convince Pope to join you all on the beach, but the boy wasn’t having it, his mind stubborn on exploring more info on the amulet for the day. He informed you all he texted Cleo to meet up before hopping on his bike and disappearing from view. 

You weren’t sure how the boys managed to get all the boards on the Twinkie, or honestly, you didn’t want to know, but the second the sand was in between your toes, you didn’t have a care in the world. Surfing was always one of your favorite pastimes. The sunshine, the water, and the feeling of landing a good wave were so rewarding. 

John B had managed to find the group an open spot on the beach to set up chairs and the umbrella he almost took JJ’s eye out with. You took off in the sand and dove headfirst into the water, relishing in the refresh it gave you as the water crossed over. It had been so long since you had nothing to do besides lay in the salty water.

The peace didn’t last long, of course. Topper and his rowdy group pulled up in their newer vehicles, purposely parking close to your group as if it would make a point. You rolled your eyes at the sight of them, knowing this wouldn’t end well because it just never really did. 

JJ met you in the water with both of your boards in hand, but your focus wasn’t on him. It was on the group piling out of the cars which happened to include Rafe Cameron.  

“I won’t let anything happen,” JJ attempted to reassure you as he stopped to kiss your temple, sliding your board into your hands. You gave him a weak nod but didn’t move your gaze as you watched Topper move closer to your setup where he intercepted John B. 

Your hands moved to give JJ the board back as you walked out of the water to approach the two boys. You didn’t need John B doing anything irrational, especially if Topper pushed his buttons the way he normally did.

“Nice of you to join the party,” Topper acknowledged as you came to stand next to your brother with crossed arms. 

“Top.” You nodded in his direction, not backing down in your defensive approach.

Topper motioned toward John B, “I was just hashing things out, you know. Friendly banter to get things even.”

“Do you really think it’s even, Topper?” You asked him as the list began to run through your head. Every time you guys got the slight upper hand, the Kooks took you down two pegs.

Topper pursed his lips and looked away from you. “Uh, let’s go down the list. You guys sunk my boat.”

“Allegedly.”

“Then you cold-cocked me and put me in the ER, remember?” He looked at John B pointedly like it was the worst thing ever.

“You beat the shit out of Pope,” You reminded him. “Or, how about pushing John B off a two-story building, hmm?”

Topper rolled his eyes and pointed behind John B. “Look, I was with her first, bro. If your girl comes to me, if she can’t resist….” 

“Real mature of you, Topper. Oh, by the way, thanks for burning our house down,” John B replied, his fingers twitching to throw the first punch, but he wouldn’t with you standing next to him.

You sneered at Topper’s attitude and stepped forward to block John B in case the emotions got the best of either boy. “Just here to surf, Top. Unless you had more to say?”

Topper’s eyes glanced behind you before he cleared his throat and refocused with no further argument. “No, no. Just here to surf.”

You hummed in agreement as he turned to walk away, mumbling something about having a good chat. Waiting until he was far enough on his side, you shifted back around to see JJ standing a few feet behind you, glare sharp enough to kill the Kook. No wonder Topper about shit his pants.

“C’mon.” John B grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the scene. You didn’t miss the way Rafe stared at you the entire time despite the new brunette he seemed to have attached to his hip. It took one glance to know she wasn’t a Kook, especially with the obvious discomfort she held around the group. 

Pushing their presence to the back of your mind, you allowed John B and JJ to tug you out into the warm sea, Kiara and Sarah following behind the three of you as the waves started to kick up. It became a routine of swapping waves, dropping in amongst your friends’ cheers and applause. Even Sarah managed to grab a couple and remain on her feet for the course into shore, which had all of you celebrating.

Hours passed between the sun and waves before you flopped on a towel and treated yourself to a midday nap. Sarah had the right idea when she said she would maximize her tan, the warm rays lulling you to sleep before you knew it.

JJ pulled himself out of the water, brushing as much from his hair as possible so he didn’t look like a wet dog. He didn’t feel half bad dropping in on a wave that Topper supposedly thought he could claim. JJ laughed to himself; the damn Kook should know better than to try to out-surf a Pogue. 

His eyes caught sight of you sound asleep and cuddled up on the oversized towel you insisted on grabbing for yourself at the thrift store. It was rare nowadays for you to sleep without someone by your side, especially at night. There were too many times when you’d crash on the hammock before the group came in and you woke someone up with a heavy scream. 

In the years JJ had known you, he’d never considered you to be weak or broken. You’d always been an example of strength in his eyes, someone who could persevere even the toughest of challenges. He knew it took a little bit of support now and then, but you were healing, and he was so, so proud of you. You’d shared such vulnerable moments with him, and though he wished he could take the pain away, he knew it was a process. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to share about his dad with you, so he understood the hesitancy you had when it came to unpacking what occurred while John B was gone. 

Usually, when you caught sight of Rafe, you shut down completely. JJ didn’t pry to ask what all happened when you were stuck with him, trusting that in time you would open up and share when you were comfortable. He was grateful that you felt comfortable enough with them around to sleep even though the person who’d taken so much from you was so close by. 

“Guys, there’s a turtle hatch!”

Kiara’s excitement woke you up from the warmth of the sand, your eyes blinking in an attempt to adjust to the sunlight. You shifted to see where she was pointing, noticing the little movements of sand and the dark figures poking out. Pushing yourself to your feet, your friends scurried around to make a path in hopes of guiding the baby turtles safely toward the water.

You quickly tossed John B your towel to drag out the terrain evenly before taking a closer look at the small creatures, wishing you could pick one up but knowing better. “They’re so cute, what the fuck!”

“Make a turtle highway,” Sarah laughed beside you, the two of soaking up the once-in-a-lifetime event as Kie continued to build a path with the boys. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a few photos of the event, including one of Sarah pointing at the little turtles as they cruised by.

The sound of a revving engine pulled your attention away and toward where Topper’s supped-up Jeep was approaching. You frowned at the sight, not sure what his intentions were before you noticed Topper wasn’t even driving, Ruthie was.

“Hey!” Kiara stood up and waved her hands in the air, “Stop! There’s a hatch!”

“Topper, stop!” You yelled next, trying to point around the current path of the turtles who were moving as fast as their little bodies could take them. “Move!”

There was barely enough time for JJ and Kiara to throw themselves out of the way of the oncoming Jeep, thankfully missing the turtles and the near-death of the duo. You could hear Ruthie’s obnoxious laugh behind you as you faced the Kook group who apparently, found attempted murder funny.

“Hey!” You were shouting before you had a chance to think it through, feet stomping through the sand to carry you closer to where Kelce and his friends found it hysterical. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”

Kelce continued to laugh as Topper’s Jeep revved once more, coming to a stop next to you. “Maybe next time don’t drop in on our surf,” Kelce’s voice dropped deeper as he approached you, gaze darkening when he was eye to eye with you.

“Fuck you, Kelce. Whatever ego you all have that you think entitles you to run over baby turtles is sick,” You spat, pushing against his chest causing his friends to ‘ooh’ at your action. Not only did they almost ruin the hatch, but Kie and JJ were inches from getting run over because of their stupidity.

“Turtles?” A voice next to you stopped you from spitting another nasty curse at the group now that Topper and Ruthie had rejoined. You looked over to see the brunette girl looking back at you, her gaze familiar before you caught Rafe watching over her shoulder. “There were turtles?”

The heartbreak in her voice surprised you. You figured anyone following Rafe around would have the same cruel attitude he did, but the empathy you weren’t expecting. 

“Go back to The Cut,” Ruthie interrupted whatever explanation you were considering giving. 

You turned to glare at her, closing the distance between the two of you as you poked at her chest. “You have five seconds before JJ gets over here and loses his shit on all of you, so, I’d watch your words, Ruthie, before they bite you in the ass. You’re a pathetic excuse for a human, and I hope you’re fucking ashamed of your actions.”

The group clearly hadn’t expected you, of all people, to come mouth off about their actions. Silence filled the group, the girl in front of you at a loss of words that someone actually dared put her in her place. 

“Look, we didn’t mean to-“

“Shut the fuck up, Topper!” You snapped at him, sick of his attempts to appear innocent despite all the damage he caused. “What happened to just here to surf, huh? Or is attempted murder always in the back of your mind?”

“Hey watch it-“

“Fucking leave, Pogue!”

“Get the hell out of here!”

“Hey, hey! Enough!” It was Rafe who put himself between you and Ruthie’s incoming hands. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or terrified and took a step back, feet stumbling as you did so. You stared at him, horrified as his gaze met yours and stole all the air from your lungs. 

“Bitch can barely look him in the eye,” Ruthie laughed behind Rafe, but you made no move to correct her, terrified that even a breath in the wrong way would end your life. Rafe Cameron, of all people, to be the one to stop someone from harming you was a sick joke.

“Rafe?” The brunette girl next to him grabbed his arm, her eyes taking in your terrified expression. It was then that you recognized her. Sofia, the girl who you’d unfortunately come to know too well in the therapy sessions John B had forced you to attempt. The two of you had shared so much with each other but never once had you run into her since you stopped going months ago. She seemed to process who you were then too, a silent conversation running through her head as she mouthed your name. 

At that moment, someone ran up behind you, hands landing on your hips before you were moved into another set of arms. You caught sight of JJ stepping closer to Rafe, likely starting an argument that you could only hope didn’t end with a fight. 

“You’re okay, I’ve got ya.” John B turned you around to redirect your gaze, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he started walking back toward the Twinkie. Everything turned to a haze, the adrenaline wearing off enough that you were heading into the inevitable anxiety attack. 

“If you come near her, or any one of us, ever again, I’ll come back and kill every single one of you.” JJ’s threat wasn’t a light one, and you were certain it would come back to bite him in the ass considering the Kooks would take it and run with it. 

Your heart was beating rapidly in your ears as John B pushed you into the passenger seat of the Twinkie, his hands grabbing both of your cheeks as you closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breath. Sarah’s grip on your hand was light as she climbed in the driver’s seat to sit on your other side. 

“What the hell was that?” Kiara’s shout echoed through the van, ringing in your ears and causing you to squeeze your eyes closed even harder. “What did you say to them?”

“Kie, shut up!” Sarah was yelling back at her, their voices blending together as you tucked your knees to your chest and curled into a ball. The shakiness was setting in and all you could do was beg your body to calm down and catch up to your actions.  

You forced your eyes to open, blinking as you managed to catch Sofia’s gaze across the sand. How you didn’t put the pieces together that’s who she was, you weren’t sure, but a pit grew in your stomach when you realized you’d spilled so much in those sessions that she was present for. Most, if not all of it, about Rafe. 

Air choked in your lungs, and aggressive coughs followed before JJ’s hand was against your chest to keep you upright. His fingers were gently against your jawline as he kept your head up in an attempt to help you breathe correctly.

“You’re alright, baby. Just keep breathing, yeah?”

John B had left your vision, same with Sarah, leaving you face to face with your boyfriend. He climbed over you to sit in the seat Sarah had once occupied and pulled your legs out to rest over his. The desire to curl up and cramp your muscles happened more than often and he’d picked up on that after a few anxiety attacks, recognizing your patterns and habits. 

JJ forced his hands in yours, keeping your fingers from stabbing your palms as you fought to take deep breaths, your body still on high alert even though your mind was coming back down. 

“There you go, good girl,” His encouragement made you smile slightly, knowing he was messing with you on purpose. Moving forward, you puddled into his lap without a word, and he welcomed you with open arms. Physical contact helped more in the recent moments, something you never expected considering you used to be so fearful of someone’s touch. 

JJ shuffled with you in his grasp, tugging the door closed to prevent unwelcome eyes from seeing you in such a vulnerable moment. John B was climbing in the driver seat shortly after, Sarah joining in the back before all doors were closed. Your breathing was slowing, muscles finding the forgiveness to loosen up on you but refused to move from JJ’s lap until your head was back in one piece.

“Kie?” You mumbled into his shoulder. The girl was clearly upset with you, but you didn’t have the capacity to question why.

“Walking,” John B replied simply as he started the old van. “Needs to clear her fuckin’ head.”

Sarah shushed him and you could hear her hand connect with his body gently, a grumbled protest coming from your brother in response. A comfortable silence filled the vehicle as John B drove away from the beach and started his course back home.

--

Exhaustion had set in on the drive, your body heavy in JJ’s hold as you listened to the occupants other than yourself share small chatter. Words weren’t enough to describe how grateful you were to your friends and brother for always supporting you no matter what. You knew it was a handful, hell, it wasn’t easy yourself, but the fact that they showed up time and time again said everything.

“Sorry about everything,” You apologized as John B parked the van in front of the house, ending your adventure for the day. “I’m trying to fix it and it just-”

“Hey,” Sarah interrupted your explanation as she popped her head over the seat. “No apologies. We’ve talked about that. Don’t apologize, ever.”

She left no room for argument and opened the back door to slide out. You looked at JJ and John B, both boys shrugged in agreement with her, making you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe we could rethink therapy?” John B suggested as he watched you rub your face to rid yourself of tear marks. You shook your head, giving no verbal answer.

Therapy had been shit for you. When you first came back from El Dorado, the hospital had taken one look at you, post-gunshot stitches, and deemed you unsound. You went with it for a while, going to the group sessions and spilling stories without any names. Then you realized how cruel people were when they started comparing trauma and you never went back again.

JJ’s grip loosened so you could climb out of the van, arm slinging over your shoulder to keep you close as he followed you. Sarah joined your side, pulling your hand in hers to swing back and forth as the four of you started heading toward the house where Pope had come out the side door.

“Yo!” JJ called in greeting. “What’d you find?”

Silence followed the question, shifting your attention to Pope instead of the ground. The shock on his face was evident and your gaze immediately dropped to the dark red smears on his shirt and hands. 

“Oh, shit.” Sarah was turning you into her instantly, both JJ and John B getting closer to Pope with an onslaught of questions. You kept your eyes on her, squeezing her hand tightly in attempt to keep your mind from getting involved.

“What happened?”

“Where’s Cleo?”

“She’s inside.” It was the only answer Pope had to give, and it sent JJ inside scrambling for the girl in question, fearing what he would find. John B grabbed ahold of Pope, steering him back to the house without any further questions before Sarah started to guide you along with the fresh blood out of view. 

Sarah looked at you expectantly as you made your way through the door into whatever chaos you’d subjected yourself to. The girl next to you stopped short and shifted your path into the kitchen, rerouting you from whatever she’d caught sight of before you could. JJ was already in there, pushing a water into your hand and lifting you onto the kitchen counter without another word.

To your relief, Cleo moved in shortly after, her expression stoic and unreadable before Sarah left your side and you could barely hear Kiara’s voice joining whatever conversation was happening a room over.

JJ placed his hands on each side of your body before kissing you softly, pulling your mind to him and only him. You hummed quietly, fingers tangling in his hair for a moment before he shifted away.

“Can you tell me?” You asked quietly, not wanted to push too far if Cleo was clearly so upset. 

He glanced at the girl behind you before answering, “Terrance’s body is in the other room.” 

JJ watched you as you processed the information, a million questions running through your mind that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Apparently, there was no time to, as JJ’s eyes caught on to something out the window behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder revealed the all too familiar Kildare County Sheriff’s Office truck, and your heart sank to your ass.

“J-“

“Upstairs,” He replied with no room for disagreement. “Our room or balcony, kay? I’ll send Sarah.”

You nodded, doing what he said without another question and bolted up the stairs with your heart pounding in your chest. Sarah’s footsteps were behind you moments later, the two of you finding sanctuary on the balcony outside your shared room with JJ. 

The sun was beginning to set and cast an orange lighting over the two of you as you piled into the hammock. Sarah leaned her head against yours just as another figure joined your group. Cleo fell on top of the two of you with a huff, both you and Sarah wrapping her up tightly into your cuddle puddle. 

And suddenly, all you could hear, was silence.

How the fuck did the cards fall this way every single time?

--

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

[justanotherhh]

some trailer things:

big fight around lust/ozzie's place that involves m&m and loona + we know fizzarolli is going to make another appearance, so i wonder how that'll connect potentially. also, new villain?

obvs the whole section of CHERUB working with DHORKS and this massive thing/portal:

john waters big villain episode???? (ghostfuckers from the looks of things)

also more crossdressing in that same episode + millie vs possessed blitz? both millie and blitz giving some evil dead type vibes?

more on stolas' whole social sphere and potential judgement and hell's class politics related to his dating blitz + p much confirmed that blitz will not take stolas' gift in the spirit it was intended

also, "you fucks think you can do this every time-" feels not just like it's about the wider class issues in hell, but maybe like it's personal (potentially with verosika? although it does seem like it's canon that he had more than a little bit of a hand in ending that relationship, so could just be him echoing everything he's been seeing in the treatment of imps and putting that onto stolas in this moment)

and then "thank you blitz, for making me so happy, even for a little while" is during this moment too. lot of teasers for how this is gonna go down (badly, upsettingly, emotionally)

the whole "do you feel any remorse for what you do" feels like a misdirect -- that is, it's edited to look like it's about blitz, but i feel like it's directed at stella or her brother

generally a lot of fun stolas visuals that i won't get into here, but am excited to see more contexts for

also this isn't new, but im always interested in blitz's heart/broken-heart forehead marking

blitz and tilla moment! generally more flashbacks (in the shape of blitz seeming to be almost at the movies, watching his own "failures") around the time of the fire! i didn't see any barbie stuff, alas, but the rest of it looks !!! also lowkey confirmed it was cash who stopped blitz from seeing fizz in hospital

who's this?

another sin? maybe related to ozzie and/or stolas and that judgement of the kinds of people they love?

blitz protecting stolas - maybe from the above, considering the hand motif of it all... stolas really living the life of blitz as a romantic hero, while blitz is barely holding it together as a person the whole time. different genres, my guys. different genres (that's their real communication issue)

this fuck-you-blitz cake looks like a verosika thing to do, esp considering it's her calling him shitty in the VO -- but yay, maybe giving that verosika catharsis, but also generally just verosika!

also the VO part where he says he doesn't want to be this way, he's wearing the same shroud as during his confrontation with verosika. idk, im just. contexts for things. i am curious

is the below also the same episode? I'd think so. it's set during halloween (?) and blitz is then maybe in the blood-covered shroud (costume? undercover? going undercover as a ghost? post-breakup stalking undercover ghost costume?)

MAMMON! and he looks pleased. oh dear.

this blitz + fizz moment

it kinda looks like blitz is wearing the same tee as when he and stolas have their moment + a horse bag + fizz casual wear. fizz generally in this trailer seems to be having the best time (outside the flashbacks). everything makes me suspicious all the time

(also generally hello all the different outfits coming up!!)

fascinated by this:

is that millie?

things we didn't see:

no barbie, no striker, no crimson, no asmodeus (directly, although his imagery is everywhere + fizz and mammon appear), no paimon -- this not to say none of them will show up, but am enjoying that a lot of this is clearly pulling from s1, with the focus on verosika, DHORKS, and CHERUB -- potentially a lot of the s2 villains need some time to lick their wounds a bit (and paimon was never a Villain, just a terrible parent... if he ever returns though...)

and barbie... i do want to see barbie again soonish ngl, she needs some proper introducing, but this is already giving so much callback and continuation of immediate plot-threads, very excited

[mybabysittersnotavampire]

My *made up* season 3 episode list and what each episode would be about and a quote from each episode

1 • Dusker Back From the Dead

(The title is a mix of both the season 1 and season 2 first episodes) Ethan and Benny use the Cubile Animus to bring Sarah back from the dead using Vice principal Stern as their sacrifice.

“Can you two stop referencing stupid movies and figure out how to get me out of here!” -Sarah

2 • The Date to (re)Start all Dates

Ethan struggles to plan out the perfect date for him and Sarah, afraid to mess it up he tries to make contact with Jesse to give him advice, but things take a turn for the worse when he finds himself stuck in the limbo dimension.

“Doesn’t feel so great to be trapped in limbo now does it.” -Jesse

3 • Della’s Vengeance

(idea partially by @comicbookddr)

When Della finds Benny’s missing spellbook she decides to use it against him as revenge. Making Benny discover she is also a spellmaster.

“Looks like you’re not the only spellmaster at our school” -Ethan

“…well this is just great..” -Benny

4 • Out of this World (inspired by alien candy)

When a new club forms at Whitechapel High, Rory and Benny find the members suspicious and begin to investigate them, nobody believes them until Ethan has an encounter with the club’s leader and finds out that the club is made up of aliens planning on invading their school.

“Rory stop worrying, they are not going to probe you.” -Ethan

5 • Sleepover Seance

When Jane is hosting a sleepover, the girls venture into the basement after watching a scary movie, wanting to have fun of their own they bring out 'Spirit Speaker'. But it isn't a ghost this time, a sleep demon comes out to play.

"How are they all asleep already?" -Rory

6 • Down the Wishing Well

Sarah discovers the local legend that there is an enchanted wishing well in Whitechapel that grants any wish, but at a cost. When she wishes to be human again, the evil spirits of the well possess her.

“I call on the spirits of this wishing well, I wish to be human again.” -Sarah

7 • Jedi’s Anonymous

When Erica finds herself going back to her old geek self, she joins an online chat room anonymously and starts flirting with another user, she decides to meet up with him in real life and discovers she had been talking to Benny the entire time.

“I’ve been talking to you idiot the entire time?!” -Erica

8 • Living Dead Girl

Rory falls six feet deep for the new girl in town. Although the boys quickly realize something isn’t as it seems when she appears in a yearbook over decades old.

“Well if she’s looking for brains, she definitely chose the wrong one..” -Ethan

9 • The Return of Betty & Veronica

Stephanie creates a golem to go to Whitechapel for junior year seeking vengeance. Betty and Veronica are back on the scene, Rory finds out the truth about Betty.

“These underwear are riding up my butt again” -Ethan

10 • Knights of Ninjitsu

Ethan is having trouble writing a fanfiction to send into his favorite game company as part of a contest. When he runs out of ideas he asks Benny to use a spell that gives him more ideas, Benny accidentally uses the wrong spell, trapping Ethan inside of a video game/his computer.

"Benny, do NOT open zombie stomper." -Ethan

11 • Jane’s Vision

When Jane snoops through her brother’s closet she discovers Ethan’s stash of items from their past enemies. The supernatural power radiating from it all makes Jane develop visions early.

12 • The Princess Leia to my Han Solo

Erica realizes that she has feelings for Benny but on her way to tell him she realizes he’s on a date with another girl. He soon finds out his new date isn’t what she seems.. (he finds out she’s a gorgon)

“That should be my geek out there!” -Erica

13 • The Fog is Coming

Grandma Weir senses another dark force coming and warns the boys, while doing so Ethan’s parents overhear, discovering all of him and his friend’s supernatural secrets, trying to keep Ethan from getting hurt they ground him from leaving the house. Will they stop the evil force coming to Whitechapel?

****************************************************

Anyways thanks for reading I know a lot of the titles probably sucked but they were so hard to come up with ok so go cry to your mother if you don’t like them

[itshype]

How I Met Your Brother (DC x DP)

Dan joins the Justice League - not as part of his rehabilitation, but as a reward for doing so well.

Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning Dan in front of Jazz. And as an eldest sister myself I would not be happy about an alternate version of my sibling being left completely alone in the world, no support, no family to then be turned into a psychopath. And I would be furious for them to then be imprisoned - not for life but for all time?

However, unlike me, Jazz is the world's foremost authority on ghost psychology. She has Dan out of his Thermos and in a larger enclosure within the week.

Now, a lot of fics have Jazz as a magical therapist who can say a few sentences and make any bad guy cry. Sorry, not today though.

First, they resocialise Dan like a feral cat (solitary confinement does make people get loopy), sitting outside his enclosure and hanging out, doing homework etc. This sort of gets him to figure out emotionally that he's no longer in the timeline where everyone he ever cared about died.

Danny discusses with him how many nightmares he's had over just the idea of losing his entire support network the way Dan did and he can't imagine what he's been through. But no emotions are not, in fact superior to having negative emotions.

After a few months, he decides that he does in fact want to actively try and get better. He goes to a therapist (because family members can't do therapy!!!) who's just unhinged enough to get a kick out of counselling a ghost from an alternate timeline.

There's only one relapse. Clockwork fixed it and they don't talk about it.

A month or so later they let him out of the enclosure for good. They offer to symbolically destroy it but Dan thinks they should keep it just in case.

While Dan's humanity has returned, his actual human half is gone forever. But he's interested in doing something with himself. He can't get a GED, or a degree, or be an astronaut. Maybe something in entertainment?

Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning that the Justice League headquarters are in space. Dan isn't as powerful anymore now he's no longer a halfa, but he knows he's handy in a fight. He loves space and due to having them repeatedly and ineffectively implemented against himself - a deep knowledge of international war tactics.

NGL, this isn't where I thought this story was going. But Dan is now an international politics, war policy and foreign affairs expert, I guess.

He helps a fair bit on the team, but his key contributions are his encyclopaedic predictions of how different international communities will react to events. If an out of control meta in Paris takes down the Eiffel Tower, he predicts which countries will immediately 'crack down' on their superpowered citizens - that sort of thing. It's invaluable for their PR team and young meta safety.

He's a friendly guy, doesn't judge anyone for losing control of their powers or going 'too far' on a villain who hurt their friends and family. And he never shuts up about his kid brother who is apparently also his best friend. He briefly mentions a baby sister he's never met and that makes everyone pretty sad.

He doesn't consider this Jazz his sister. He's already had a sister named Jazz and isn't looking for a 1:1 replacement. This Jazz is more like a mum-friend. However, he never had a Danny or an Ellie in his last life.

"My little brother told me about the trick to this level in Doomed 17, want me to explain what you're missing?"

"Sorry, I really can't possess you, even for 'anti mind-control' training. That isn't how overshadowing works, you can't become immune without exposure to ectoplasm in dangerous doses. No, I can't get you some pure ecto, my baby brother would kick my ass to hell."

"Yeah, my baby bro and I both wanted to be astronauts, I died so it's not in the cards for me anymore, but he has a real shot still, we're all rooting for him!"

Most Justice League members think he's a dead eldest brother with living siblings he's still in close contact with.

It's all fun and games until he tries to take a bullet for Batman during an ambush and it's actually an amnesia ray designed to make Batman forget about a specific case until the bad guy can complete his plan.

"I killed you all before, and I will do it again."

[bae04xx]

Omg would you write a yandere tsukasa x reader please

i’m actually bare sorry i never check tumblr and when i saw this i was sooo excited so i hope you like it xx

this has not been proof read and i cba sorry

as the winter closed in, there was a chilling presence in the air. i stepped back into the school, noticing the frost that had settled gently against the glass panes of the windows, i tugged my woollen hat down my head further in order to keep the heat in. while strolling through the barren halls i took notice of the oddly quiet atmosphere, sure it had been an hour or so since school ended but usually i could hear some clubs closing up, or at least hanako and yashiro. i made a mental notice of the abnormality, but continued my way to the broadcasting room.

i wonder to myself if i took too long, i had tried to be on time, considering i had to be finished with my homework in an hour- despite being forced to deal with a whole weeks worth in such a small amount of time i was expected to do it all. thanks to tsukasa. according to him if i spaced it out evenly i did it in small parts every day that was “too much time wasted that i could be spent with him” although he’s happy with putting my education on the line…

well at least that’s the only thing he’s endangering- id it were up to him i’d be 6 feet under, my ghost being tormented by his antics constantly.

but like i was going allow that, i’d been firm with him since the day i met him, no matter what happens between us- i am not bound to him and i am not dying for him. sure i loved him..

i loved him more than anything. even if i acted like i hated him, and he got on my nerves like mad, and he was a terrible person, i still loved him. and he loved me. he made it very obvious what he wanted out of me- for me to belong to him. tsukasa was very possessive, especially if he owned an object, but even if it wasn’t his- he would do anything to keep it. and that’s what i hated, i am not an object and i am not something to be kept, or protected; i don’t belong to anyone! his whole ideology goes against everything i stand for, but he just doesn’t listen.

it’s constant affection, constant attention, constant interrogations, he has to know where i am, what i’m doing, who i’m with always. but i’m not a child, fucks sake i am my own person. yet he’s always going on at me how i need to be bound to him, he’ll give me whatever i want as long as i belong to him, he can kill me and we’ll be together forever, i’ll be his princess. but i want to live. i want to make a life for myself, make my family proud, have my own family one day. but yet i love him with every atom in my being..

gosh life is confusing, why can’t it just be simple? i doubt anyone else has these problems.

i stopped dead in my tracks, as i heard hanako’s boyish laugh, my eyebrows knitted as i realised i missed the last flight of stairs, too absorbed in my own thoughts.

“y/n? what’re you doing down here?” i heard him call over from the toilets, of he knew i was here.

“y/n? hey!” yashiro rushed towards me and brought me into a soft hug, she was very warm, the complete opposite to my shivering form.

“hanako- she’s freezing!”

“what’re you doing here? aren’t you meant to be with tsukasa already?” he questioned, ignoring yashiro’s worries in order for his question to be answered.

“i’m fine,” i sighed, “i’m not meant to be anywhere, we aren’t bound.” i stated calmly as he chuckled.

“aren’t bound but you’re wrapped around his finger aren’t you?” he said, his cheeky smile adorning his face.

i huffed, preparing myself reply to his quip before i was interrupted by a cold, ghostly figuring wrapping itself around my back.

“y/n! what’re you doing here? you were meant to be in the broadcasting room ages ago!” he whined in my ear, his grip around my waist tightening, his sinister grip on my contrasted against his childish words.

“amane! i see you found y/n!” his face brightened as he saw his brother, while hanako stood his ground, yet uncomfortably. yashiro backed away from me towards him.

“she found me, i’m guessing looking for you,” he said coldly, as tsukasa craned his neck.

“well she was going the wrong way! c’mon y/n, i’ve got some much stuff to show you!” he smiled, grabbing my hand and leading the way, i sent a weary glance to yashiro, who just stood still, unsure of what to do.

…

“why were you there.” there was a bite in this voice, it was just me and him in the far part of the room, closed off from the 2 other members.

“i don’t know, i was just wondering and was thinking about some… stuff and didn’t even have where i was going on my mind,” i spoke softly, noticing his tense tone and his blank face- he exhibited no emotion.

“i’m not looking for excuses.” he spoke, his dark eyes barring holes into my e/c ones.

“i was on my way to you tsukasa, i promise,” i tried to reason with him, evidently hating the atmosphere.

“when how did you get there y/n, how did to get to amane when you were on your way to the basement?”

“i.. don’t know. i’m just stressed, ok? i’ve got a lot on my mind right now,” i was so close to giving up, walking out of this stupid club and going home to get the first good nights sleep i would get in months. he has me constantly cooped up here until the late evenings. just because he “can’t dread the afterlife with out me.”

“you’re not going home anymore.” he stated, his face still unchanged as mine blew up before him.

“i need to do my homework- my parents will kill me tsukasa! i can’t do this to myself, i need to finish my studies, i can’t always be here with you! my education matters, i put up with you all in my face while i am meant to be learning, set aside my home work to be with you, walk home in the dark all on my own and get god knows how many hours of sleep all for you!” i screamed, i was tired, and the bags under my eyes said that for me. just as i stood up to leave and turned my back on him, he grabbed me from behind.

“you won’t have to worry about any of that anymore, now be a good girl and sit back down for me,” i heard him whisper in my ear, as i tried to break out of his grip i left something sharp and cold appear next to my neck.

he had a knife against my throat.

“now are you going to listen to me?” he grinned.

i silently sat opposite to him, as we had been previously, he could feel the fear aching off me, he was basking in this work, his face staring lovingly yet proudly at my trembling body.

“you really should’ve told me this sooner,” he sighed, playing with the silver knife, spinning it between his fingers.

i said nothing, unsure of what would be the right response.

“are you gonna reply or just sit there shaking like a leaf?” he giggled, before he patted his lap, indicating for me to sit.

i slowly get steadily sat on his lap, as he cuddled into me, taking a deep breathe from his noise while his hands were feeling every inch of me.

“i’m going to miss you being so warm,” he said to himself, i shiver went down my spine.

“what.. do you mean?” my voice was so quiet, i couldn’t manage to speak above a whisper’s volume.

“i’m doing you a favour, i’m going to take away all these bad feelings from my baby, how does that sound?” he teased me with his fingers, sensually moving them against my thighs, i melted into his touch.

“yeah.. that sounds good,”

“so, you want me to take all these bad feelings away from you? no matter what the consequences are?”

“mhm..” i mumbled, too tired and my feelings being all over the place to speak.

“i’m gonna need a yes y/n,” he chuckled.

“yes tsukasa,” i said wearily, before i felt it.

his knife went through my heart, i sprung up as a i felt an animalistic scream emerge from my throat. as the blood spewed out of my i felt my lover’s chest rising to the beat of his uncontrollable laughter. i watched as he floated above me, his hands gripping my cheeks as he giggled and stared at his masterpiece, i felt my body dying and the blood rushing around me- only to leave me. my eyes slowly started drooping, until all i saw was black, and i felt myself slip away, finally at peace.

“y/n! you’re finally awake! gosh, you couldn’t of taken longer, could ya?”

“wh-what’s going on? i thought i was dead..”

“sakura! she’s awake! y/n is finally awake!”

“very nice tsukasa.”

“you’re finally mine, all mine. we can be together forever now!” he giggled, before planting a kiss on my forehead.

[asumofwords]

So I see you’re going to open up requests soon??? 👀

Lemme just put this one there to marinate because some of the asks have really put the thought in my head with no sign of it leaving me be.

Spooky season is coming!!!!

I rewatch the Haunting series on Netflix every October so I’m kinda feeling a Bly Manor type possession fic. SFA one shot or not, but Aemond’s dead and they were definitely in love. When reader moves on after his death and eventually meets someone she can fall in love with again, maybe she brings him home and Aemond possesses her new man just so he can fuck her again. Bonus points if she doesn’t know the first few times but keeps wondering how her new boo knows exactly what she likes before Aemond finally reveals himself and ultimately, she lets it continue because she gets her Aemond again.

Just some thots

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: Death, murder, sadness, depression, thoughts of suicide, talks of blood and gore, moving on, haunted estate, possession, fear, anger, smut, chasing, blood, choking, slapping, fucking, creampie, degradation, rough sex, angry sex, dub-con, slight non-con, confusion, grief, Cregan being possessed by your late husband, spooky vibes.

Pairings: Ghost!Aemond x Reader / Aemond Targaryen Possession Fic, Cregan Stark x Reader, Possessed!Cregan x reader

Notes: Look.... I'm such a Cregan Stark slut, I'm gonna throw him in wherever I can... Hope you enjoy!!!! Hehehe, I hope I have done your request some justice!!! I really enjoyed writing this <3

Aemond Targaryen was a man that could not be summarised by mere words. You didn’t believe that you could ever find enough of them to describe him, if any could come close to it. He was kind, quiet at times, calculating, but passionate. And that was why you had married him. His passion for you was so strong it almost burnt, the flames of it constantly flickering over you like fire. 

You had been married for some time, meeting at University, Advanced History and the Politics of Old, and instantly falling for the quiet man who had sat up the back, hand constantly writing notes on paper. He had this charm that surrounded him, and the day you had gotten the courage to ask him out, pacing in front of your mirror all morning, practising the words over and over in your head and aloud, he beat you to it, seemingly having done the same thing. 

You were married a year later, a quick turn around, but happy with bliss and the love that you had for each other. Years flew by together and eventually you began to plan for a child, and Aemond in his excitement, invited his family over to announce this to them. His mother, unbeknownst to him, invited his half-sister Rhaenyra, her children, and her husband, Daemon; A man Aemond had once admired, but now despised. 

And because of this, tragedy struck.

At first the evening went well, but with the presence of his nephew, Lucerys, the boy who had taken his eye in an accident at a young age, Aemond’s anger simmered that night between him and his uncle, Daemon, and with the alcohol that flowed heavily from the table during your celebrations, a fight broke loose. 

You could still see it. Still see it move behind your eyelids like a film, slow motion, then quick, then slow again.

Aemond’s fist flying into Daemon’s cheek, a man much taller and broader than your husband. You had shot up from your chair to reach them, but Alicent had held you back whilst Rhaenyra tried to pull her husband away from her half-brother, who Daemon knelt over, fist after fist striking the younger mans face. You had screamed when Daemon was finally pulled up and away by his angry wife, concern thrown down to her estranged sibling, her violet eyes roaming him for injury. 

But your Aemond, your sweet, sweet Aemond, head strong and stubborn as he was, didn’t know when to stop, and so, jumping up from the ground, face bloodied and lips bleeding, Aemond’s hand had snatched a steak knife from the table, charging for Daemon, who pushed Rhaenyra out of the way. 

The next thing you knew, Aemond lay lifeless on the floor, knife in his unseeing eye, blood pooling on the floor around him. You had screamed and ran to him, sobbing over his corpse as Daemon stood in shock, looking at his now bloodied hand whilst Alicent blinked down at her son.

Daemon went to jail, a short term for murdering your husband, self defence they had said, since Aemond made the first move and grabbed the knife. And whilst Daemon sat in a cell, visited by his children and wife, you were left alone in the large estate that you had together, bereft with grief and uncertain if life would ever move on without him. 

You had thought about it, once or twice, grabbing a razor or taking one too many of the pills the doctors had prescribed for your debilitating depression, or perhaps reaching beneath the sink to grasp at Aemond’s old pain medication and taking the entire lot. But each time you thought of it, you just couldn’t do it. Too cowardly to go forward with it, which almost always ended with you on the floor where he had died, sobbing into the flagstones. 

It had been five years when you met him, five years when you decided to get back out into the world. Or not really decided, more like forced to by Helaena, Aemond’s older sister, who had been your life boat through grieving the loss of her brother. She had told you that Jacaerys, her nephew she had no qualms with despite the family tension, had a friend that you would get along with. Someone kind and gentle, and so far away from being anything like Aemond, that it was a safe bet.

And so one night of a blind date with Cregan Stark, Helaena and her girlfriend Cassandra joining as a buffer, turned into two, which then turned to three, then four, until soon enough, you were falling for the man. 

He was courteous. Tall and broad, with long, dark hair and a short beard, or more like stubble that had been left untouched for days on end. He had kind grey eyes, that looked like a winters storm that swirled each time he gazed at you. 

And he was different. That’s what you likened as to why you liked him. 

He was the complete opposite of Aemond. 

Where Aemond was fiery and warm, Cregan was cool and patient, always waiting for you to make the first step. Whenever you would fight, if at all you would manage to get him to react, it would always end with him apologising to you. 

Even when you were in the wrong. 

That was one thing you hated about it. 

He would never rise to your goading, never rise to the bait you would set for him to flare his temper. Sure, he would get angry, his wild grey eyes alight with something, but it would pass as soon as a storm, and he would leave to walk it out, or ask for space. 

You missed how it had been with Aemond. How you could goad him into anger, to have him fold you over any surface and have his way with you, rutting into you violently and cruelly, as he ripped peak, after peak from you, until you begged for mercy, tears falling down your cheeks. 

But Cregan was different, softer, sweeter, and not at all like your hot headed late husband. 

And this, you were thankful for. 

In some ways at least. 

It had been over a year of dating when you finally asked him to move into the estate with you. He lived awhile away, and you were alone in a house that had close to a hundred rooms and only memories to haunt you. It only felt right to fill it up with one more person. 

The estate was old, and although Aemond had died within its walls, you just couldn’t leave it. 

You were stuck. 

Feeling drawn to its stones and halls, and even the mere thought of parting with it made you breathless. 

Though, there was something about the old estate that made your skin crawl. 

It had always made you uncomfortable, and it was something that you had voiced to Aemond upon many a times, and he would always assure you, that they could not touch you, whoever they were.

But something was different.

Something had changed in the years past since Aemond had died.

Helaena had once come to the estate, months after the fact, and gone pale, looked right past you as though she was looking at someone there. But when you had turned, there was no-one. Not a soul, or wisp, or a particle. Just air.

But it was cold. And Helaena had told you, whilst staring behind, that Aemond would always be with you.

But you knew he would. You had his memories, his photos, his clothes that you had folded in trunks in the attic, or the blanket that still smelt very much like him that you would curl into on lonely nights and breathe in his scent. 

Of course he would always be with you. 

He was your first love.

But there was something about the estate.

You just didn’t know what.

It didn’t help that no matter what you did, you felt like you were being watched. But the building was as old as the hills, and your therapist had told you it was likely just your hyper observance and PTSD to blame. 

There were no ghosts in the house, no ghouls or monsters. It was just you. 

You and the empty walls, and halls that used to house his voice, and his smile, and his laughter. 

You were lonely, that much was sure, and although you loved Cregan, you truly did, it would just never match the love you and Aemond had. Not that you were comparing the two to each other in that way. Aemond was fire, Cregan was ice. They were both two very different people who loved in two very different ways. And you knew, much to your grief, that it was time to move on. 

Time to move forward with your life. 

And so you did. With Cregan. And that feeling of being watched only amplified. The feeling of heat on the back of you neck, being watched wherever you went, multiplying by tenfold with Cregan’s now permanent presence. 

The rooms would suddenly get cold, to the point that he had even noted it, but had explained it away; His home back in Winterfell was older than this estate, and it too had cold spots in it. 

It didn’t mean anything, it was just the old buildings, with old drafts, and terrible old insulation. 

But something felt off since he moved in. 

You always felt like you were being watched but it had changed to something more angry. Like something was always in the corner of your eye when with him, especially when intimate. But Cregan, with this kind eyes and unbendable patience, listened to your worries, and ensured you that it was fine, and even if there was an entity in the estate, it could not touch you, nor harm you, and probably didn’t even know you were there, lost in a world of its own. 

Yet, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of it. Maybe it was because you were moving on, and feeling guilty about doing so. 

You didn’t move into your old room that had been yours and Aemond’s. That was off limits. Closed for good, unless you wished to go in there and sit for a while. It had been over six years, six long years without him, but maybe, just maybe, Aemond would want you to move on. 

Yes, you were sure of it. 

He would want you to be happy, to move on. Not forget about him, but to continue on with your life without him, despite the feeling that your life had stopped with him the day he was killed. 

You still had night terrors about it, picturing his body on the floor, lifeless and cold, blood pooled beneath his head, seeing eye staring up unfocused. 

The terrors had gotten worse when Cregan had moved in. You would wake with a scream, and the vision and smell of blood before you, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, and the feeling as though something, or someone, had be pushing down on your chest. And each time, Cregan would be there for you, to ground you, to bring you back to the present and hold you as you sobbed in his arms, and eventually went back to sleep, skin tingling with the feeling of an extra eye on you.

But Cregan made you feel safe.

There were many things about Cregan that you adored. His loyalty to his friends and family, his smile when excited or pleased, the way he would hold you tightly against his chest, head tucked beneath his chin as you inhaled deeply. 

And to top it all off, he was an amazing lover.

Sleeping with Cregan was different to what it had been like with Aemond. He was gentler, softer, less rough and violent. Which was something you actually missed. When once you had asked Cregan to wrap his large hands around your throat, he had blushed and looked away, saying he needed time to work his way up to that. And so you dropped it, and respected that boundary. 

It wasn’t that the sex wasn’t good, it was. Cregan knew how to bring you to your peak with practised skill. It was just that it wasn’t what you needed. You needed a release. A cathartic bloom of pleasurable pain, submission and dominance, to not be in control, to let someone take the reins and bring you to a warm and fuzzy place that Aemond called ‘Sub Space’. You needed to feel the ache of being roughly handled, to see the bruises of Cregan’s love on your skin the next day or week after, but he was almost afraid of hurting you.

Gods bless that sweet man.

-

Footsteps clumped from down the hall as the tv softly played the previews of a new show on Netflix. You leant back against the couch, tucked under a thick blanket as you watched Cregan enter the lounge room with two bowls in hand. 

“What are we watching?” His deep voice curled around the room, eyes darting to the tv as you scrolled down, trying to find something the two of you could watch.

“I don’t know.” You flicked to the Recommended For You section, the couch dipping beside you as he sat, placing the steaming bowls of pasta in front of you, “Thanks.” You pecked his cheek lightly, before looking back at the screen.

“What are our options?” His fork clinked on the edge of his bowl as he twirled the long pasta up his fork, shoving it into his mouth beside you.

“Pride and Prejudice-“

“-2005 or BBC?” Cregan interrupted.

“2005 obviously.” You smirked, turning back to the tv, “Jurassic Park, Knives Out,” You flicked through the recommendation list, hearing a snicker beside you as you moved past 365 Days, “Gone Girl-“

“Gone Girl? What’s that?” Cregan asked between chews, large hand reaching to place your own bowl into your lap.

You grinned, “Only one of the best movies ever. Have you really not seen it?” You turned to face him, watching as he shook his head. “Gone Girl it is.”

The movie began to play as you settled in at his side, eating the dinner he had made you both. Cregan was engrossed in the film, and made you laugh as he screamed profanity at the tv, already hating Ben Affleck's character thinking he had killed his wife.

Towards the end of the movie however, Cregan was cheering Amy on, getting excited as it went through her step by step revenge plan. You were almost at the crescendo of the film when you felt Cregan shift beside you, his audible stream of consciousness suddenly stopped. 

You turned your head to look at him.

The large man was sitting stiff as a board beside you, grey eyes narrowed onto your face. It was as if all emotions had slid away, leaving a cool exterior. You frowned, turning your body to face him completely, watching as his eyes slid carefully over your body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, wondering what had changed his mood so suddenly.

Cregan’s eyes blinked slowly, lids half hooded as he peered at you.

There was something about it that was familiar.

Something about it that sent a shiver down your spine. 

And as if it didn’t happen, Cregan blinked again, shaking his head slightly, large hand coming to press at an eye as though in pain.

Your hand reached out to rest on his shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?” Concern written on your features.

Brows furrowed, he winced, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye, “Sorry.” He apologised through gritted teeth, “Migraine came out of nowhere.”

Sympathy rolled through you. Standing from the couch you clicked your tongue, “That’s no good. Let me get you some pain killers.” 

Your bare feet pressed into the cold flagstones as you headed to the large kitchen, bending at the waist to rifle in the small medicine box under the sink. 

The box was old, something left over from Aemond, with the painkillers still inside that he used for whenever his eye and scar was giving him bother. You spotted the small silver packet of pain killers beside Aemond’s old ones, out of date and not useful to anyone, and yet you still could never bring yourself to get rid of them, as though your brain worried that they would be needed out of habit despite him no longer being there anymore. 

Bypassing your late husbands medication, you pulled at the small packet of regular painkillers and made your way back to the lounge room, worrying over Cregan’s sudden pain. 

He never usually had migraines or headaches, but it had become something more frequent since he moved in. His doctor had said it could be allergies, or perhaps even the presence of black mould in the old estate, but you had hired mould cleaners, and even mould detecters who brought in an old dog to sniff about the property, and they, not once, found any sign of damp or growing fungus. 

Entering the lounge you spotted Cregan, sitting stiff backed on the couch, head immediately flicking to you.

“I got you some pain killers,” You walked towards him, popping two little pills out of the foil packet, “Is it bad?”

Cregan’s lips twitched slightly as he watched you, eyes narrowed, and yet he did not answer. 

Must be bad if he’s not talking. 

“Here.” You held your hand out, waiting to place the two painkillers into his palm. 

Cregan Stark watched you with hawklike eyes, not taking the pills from you. Suddenly he stood, large frame towering over you as he looked down his nose at you, face devoid of any emotion, and a certain strike of familiarity sparked inside your mind.

Why does this feel familiar?

A large hand struck out, grabbing you neck roughly, squeak falling from your lips as you were tugged towards Cregan, his lips finding yours in a rough and bruising kiss, his straight teeth nipping at your bottom lip roughly, tingles climbing up your spine. He kissed you until you were out of breath, hand not releasing itself from your neck, keeping you firmly to him until you parted bare centimetres away to catch your breath, lips brushing against each other as you heaved. 

“What's gotten into you?” You breathed heavily, want coursing through you.

The pink of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, though moving slower as though he was savouring the taste of you on him, “I’ve missed this.” Came a deep purr from within his chest.

A smirk pulled at your mouth, “You had me last night.” You teased, nibbling at your bottom lip, wondering where this sudden burst of lust had come from.

Cregan merely grunted as he crashes his lips back against yours, fingers tightening around your throat in a way that you had begged him to do for months, cutting the supply of blood flow making your head spin. You mewled as he broke the kiss, spinning you around to push you over the edge of the couch arm. 

Air was ripped from your lungs as he pushed his weight onto your lower back with his hand, fingers ripping at your clothes to reveal your slick folds to the room. 

There was no preparation, no warning, just the sudden and sharp bite of his length pushing into your walls. You cried out, hands grasping at the pillows as he set a rough pace, his length dragging in and out of you sharply as he grunted from behind. 

Cregan’s weight pushed into your spine as he continues to rut into you wildly, feet dangling uselessly as he fucking you over the arm of the couch, hands gripping the pillows tightly in your hands. It was the first time he had ever fucked you with such vigour, without care, and it set your nerves alight. 

You whined beneath him, feeling closer and closer to your peak, slick coating your thighs and his length, the wet sound of flesh against flesh behind you. 

“Always such a good little slut for me.” Cregan growled, and the sound sent tremors through you.

Your brows furrowed, a nagging sensation in the back of your mind telling you that something was not quite right. That Cregan would never call you that, had never called you that, and that it was something that Ae-

Blinding white pleasure burst through you as you came, Cregan moaning behind you as he felt your walls tighten around his length. You whined beneath him, body going slack as he sought out his own peak, rutting into you frantically until he came with a grunt, warmth filling your walls.

You slumped against the couch, mind hazy as your climax scrambled all thoughts. A kiss was pressed against your shoulder blade and a small hiss came from behind as your boyfriend pulled out of your core. Too tired to move, and the man clearly sensing that, you were scooped up into two large arms and carried off to your bedroom. 

The rest of the evening a blur of being cleaned, given water to drink, and then the soft sheets and warmth of a body pressed up against you in bed, large hand stroking over your hair lovingly as you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, it was to a grunt of pain and not pleasure. Cregan was laid on his back, hand once again pressed into his eye as his brows furrowed, desperate to alleviate the pain that settled behind it. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, turning to face him, watching as he tried to compose himself, a soft wince pulling at his features. 

“Migraine again.” Cregan whispered into the early morning air. 

Your hand out of habit, moved to soothe the hair at the top of his head on the side of the eye pain, in a way that was purely instinctual, in a way that you had for many years with Aemond whenever he would wake in pain, or lay in silence, biting roughly at his own lips to try and get through it alone.

Pressing a kiss to the side of Cregan’s face you crawled out of bed, “You didn’t take the painkillers last night that’s why. I’ll go get you some more.”

You had brought him the painkillers and forced him to take them with a whole glass of water, before settling back into the covers with him, soothing his long brown hair away from his face as the pain slowly dissipated away from his features. 

-

The next week, it happened again. 

The headache. 

The cool half lidded gaze.

The sudden change in demeanour.

The things that he did and said reminded you so much of Aemond, that you felt immediate guilt for thinking of your late husband whilst in the throws of a rough fuck with your new boyfriend. But this time you took the reins, and told him to slow down, told him that you wanted it softer, more loving, more him. 

“Sl-slow down.” You pleaded from below, thighs pressed against your chest as Cregan pushed his whole length inside of you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix.

His eyes narrowed on you as he grunted, fucking into you harder instead, “No.” He growled, and a small spark of fear sparked up your spine. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you pushed at his chest, “S-stop. Cregan, stop.” Your nails dug into his chest as you tried to push him off of you, yet his pace didn’t falter. 

Your brain in its confusion pushed out a word you hadn’t used in years, a word that was reserved for you and Aemond only, a word that was to be used if you wanted all things to end. 

“Perzys.”

Fire.

Cregan immediately stopped, eyes blinking suddenly as he looked down at you in a moment of confusion, and then concern. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him, your own confusion and sorrow swirling inside of you. 

How did he-

“What’s wrong?” 

A tear slid down your cheek as you felt him looking over you, blinking again as though trying to rise from a fog, and yet he had stopped. He stopped with a word that he shouldn’t have even known. 

Or maybe you had told him. Maybe you had, a long time ago? Maybe he was confused by your sudden use of the foreign word? Maybe-

“You’re scaring me.” Your words came out breathlessly, all desire having leaked from your body and replaced with a myriad of others. 

Guilt.

Fear.

Confusion.

Grief.

It was too real.

It was too familiar.

It was-

“I thought this was what you wanted, ñuha-“ Cregan’s hand flew to his eye, pressing into it roughly as he gasped out in pain. 

You scrambled to sit up, pulling his length from inside of you as you held onto his face, soothing his hair away, fear replaced with worry. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” You asked in concern, watching as Cregan’s teeth ground down on each other, low grunt of agony passing through his clenched teeth.

“Let me see.” You begged, mind going into autopilot as you gently grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from his eye as he blinked down at you in surprise for a moment, a multitude of emotions flashing across his face before his hand rose, and then his face crumpled once again, and the heel of his hand pushed back into his eye. 

You sprung into action, body already taking you immediately to get painkillers for him, hand reaching for the little yellow pill container before having to grab the others. 

Eventually you got him to settle into bed, begging him to see a doctor, before the two of you finally agreed to see one later that week. 

And what an uneventful doctors visit that was. 

Two MRI’s, CT scans, and blood tests later, the doctor gave him the all clear. No growths to be seen, or unusual brain activity, not even a simple vitamin deficiency; Cregan was the pinnacle of health. The Stark came out of the doctors office with reassurance that there was no malignant growth or anything to be worried about, but a warning that perhaps stress was the causation for his sudden pains. He was given instructions to rest, and so Cregan took sick leave for the rest of the month. 

-

Two weeks into Cregan’s rest, and the both of you were pleased to find that Cregan didn’t have another migraine attack. Nor did his demeanour suddenly change like the last time, much to your relief. 

Winter had begun to roll into the realm, and the estate, being as old as it was, became far colder at times, inside than out. The fires were constantly lit to keep you both warm, and it made for a rather romantic setting for the two of you. 

That morning you had gone out to get a nice bottle of wine to bring home. You were going to surprise Cregan with a home cooked meal, a nice bottle of red, and then after, if you were both feeling inclined, which you knew you would be, a slow and gentle fuck in front of the fireplace.

You had gone out of your way to avoid him that day, going to the shops to buy ingredients, prepping the dinner as quietly and quickly as you could, lighting candles in the casual lounge room for the two of you, and placing some fluffed pillows before the hearth to lounge in.

It was perfect. 

Your dinner was cooked, and you were ready for the evening and with good timing. You heard Cregan walking through the hall as you put his bowl next to yours on the coffee table, placing the nice bottle of wine in the centre as you brushed down the sides of your dress and made sure your hair was perfect. 

The dress you wore was tight and black, and although you had thought of wearing heels, there was no need to in your own home, so you went bare foot. Beneath your dress lay a lacy surprise. You waited to see Cregan enter the room, to see his smiling eyes and warm grin at you, but he kept on. Walking straight past the lounge, his footsteps disappearing down the vast hall. 

You stood in confusion for a moment.

Maybe he was going to the bathroom.

Maybe he didn’t know you were there or that you had cooked dinner. 

But he would have smelt it. 

And he would have known. 

You waited for a while longer, hoping he was making his way back, but when he didn’t, you began to grow impatient, leaving your steaming dinner behind to go in search for him. In that moment you cursed the vastness of the estate, but knew that Cregan wasn't really one to explore it. He kept to what he knew, and so you went to those spaces.

He wasn’t in your shared room.

Or the dining hall.

Or one of the many bathrooms. 

Nor was he in the kitchen.

The estate was cold, and dark, and the coolness of the home creeped up your bare feet and into your spine, sending shivers running down it. You called out his name, hoping he would come to you so that you would eat.

But no response came. 

It wasn’t until you were climbing the stairs back to your bedroom that you noticed a light on in a distant room. 

A room far down the end of the east wing. A room in which Cregan knew he wasn’t allowed inside. A room in which you had not been inside of for a long, long time. 

A pang of hurt and anger rose inside of you as you went towards it, feet slapping against the stones as you got closer and closer, unready and unwilling to be reasonable for such a boundary being crossed.

This was not what you had planned for the evening.

The hallway became shorter, as you got closer, and the air in the hall changed. It became colder. Sharper. More charged. And the anger that you had within you, slowly began to crackle as you came to a stop, spotting Cregan standing in Aemond’s study, his large back to you.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, hurt rising within as he stood in front of Aemond’s old desk. 

There was the smallest of whispers of something not being right that began to grow in the back of your mind. 

But Cregan did not answer you, nor did he turn to look at you when he would have no doubt heard you enter. 

The room opened a wound you thought had been closed.

And Cregan had done that.

You stepped towards him again, no answer still from his lips. 

You thought he was better than this.

You thought that he respected this boundary.

What did he want from coming into this room?

Why would he be in here?

You looked at his posture. 

Bone straight.

His large hands clenching and unclenching at his side as his head stayed straight on.

Something wasn’t right.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” You told him, voice wary as you stopped yourself mere feet away from him. 

Again, no answer.

Did something happen?

Was this a test?

“Cregan?”

And then you heard it.

A low chuckle.

A sound that in your years of dating Cregan, you had not heard once.

And in your years of his absence, you had missed.

It was a chuckle that sent ice running down your spine. 

And yet, your feet took you forward anyway.

“Cregan?” You asked again, wariness in your voice as you tried to peer around his side and look at his face.

Was this a dream?

A nightmare?

A hum. All that came from his chest, was a deep and oh too familiar hum.

“Hm.”

Your spine stiffened, and it felt as though the air in the room turned to ice, goosebumps rising on your skin. 

“This isn’t funny, Cregan. Get out.” One last attempt of courage, one last attempt of standing your ground, or at least your first attempt, which came and flew and crashed to the ground in flames. 

Cregan finally shifted, turning to face you, and although it was the face of your boyfriend, it was the mannerisms of your late husband which caused you to gasp out in fear. On Cregan’s soft lips, was the sharp pull of a smirk that Aemond almost always reserved for you.

“I’ve missed you zaldrītsos.” Little dragon.

Horror flooded you.

“Cregan.” You warned in clenched teeth, afraid that if they were open, they’d chatter, “This isn’t funny.” 

Growling, a tear fell down your cheek, your hands clenched into fists as you looked at him.

He had no right to be in this room.

He had no right to call you that name.

To act as he did.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Another smirk, and a step towards you, “Cregan is indisposed.”

Another tear fell down your cheek as you took a step backwards and away, watching as his eyes roamed down your body, “Cut it out, Creg. I’m serious.”

Brown hair cascaded over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you, clicking his tongue, “Oh, I'm deathly serious.” Came his purr-like response.

Your heart raced against your ribcage, blood rushing into your ears as you stared at him in shock and fear.

This-

It couldn’t-

It wasn’t-

“Aemond?” You breathed.

And it was the smile that did it for you. The smile you had prayed and hoped and dreamed to see every day for the years without it, yet now, seeing it up close on the face of your boyfriend scared the living wits from you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted lightly on his feet, not at all in the clunky manner that Cregan would have, but it in a smooth, calculated way that was every movement Aemond would make, “Have you missed me?”

You couldn’t move. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

You couldn’t speak, even if you dared to. 

It must be a dream. 

A cruel dream.

A nightmare in which you would wake from soon. 

But it felt too real.

It felt too sure. 

He was here. 

There, right in front of you. But it wasn’t him.

It wasn’t his body, his face, his voice.

But it was him.

He took another step towards you, and your stumbled backwards, mouth agape as you looked at him, the shadows of the dark lit room falling across his face. 

And then there it was. 

That Cheshire Cat smile.

“Run."

Your feet bound on the flagstones as you fled in terror, racing down the stairs to try and escape, to leave the estate, to get to your car and go, or your phone, or anywhere that wasn’t near him. To get away from him. It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t him.

It was.

It was him. 

Air struggled to get into your lungs as you ran as fast as you could, hands catching themselves on the stone walls, nails biting into them as you caught yourself taking sharp corners, the dark halls and stairways causing your heart to race faster, feeling as though they were closing in on you. 

You didn’t dare look back. 

You knew he was there. 

You knew he was chasing you. 

Something you had done together for fun, for pleasure, but now, you were struck with terror.

But there it was, sweet salvation. 

The floor crashed up towards you as you landed heavily on your knees, tripping on the last step, not wasting anytime to check for injury nor even feel the blood that dripped down your legs, knees skinned from landing on the ancient stone floors. 

But there it was. 

The main hall. 

And there at the end, your way out. 

Your escape. 

The front doors of the estate.

You raced for it, heart in your throat, air barely in your lungs as they screamed for a reprieve, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you got closer and closer, fear still crawling up your throat, threatening to break through as a scream. 

And scream you did as your body was hauled off of your feet and into the air by a pair of large arms, wrapped around your centre. You kicked and clawed as you tried to get away from him, mind racing a million miles an hour, unsure of what was happening, and if it was even possible, but desperate to get away.

Not a sound, nor a jeer, nor a tease came from the man behind you. Not even a word to reassure you that this was a game, that it was Cregan, that you were safe, that this was just a long planned part of a fantasy you had expressed you wanted and he had denied. 

There was no reassurance. 

There was no check in. 

Because it wasn’t Cregan. 

It was Aemond. 

And as he hauled you back down the hall and up the stairs, kicking and screaming, back to his study, tears falling from your cheeks, you knew that it was him. You knew that it had been the slightest glimmers of him in Cregan the past month. Those migraines were more, those changes were more, and you had ignored them. 

Your hips collided with the desk of Aemond's study as he threw you into it, hands desperate to catch your fall, spreading across the desk knocking over items that had not been touched nor moved for years.

“I’ve had to watch him fuck you, every night.” He growled from behind, as you tried to push yourself up, his body caging you into his desk. There was a flicker of familiarity of the times you had once found yourself in a similar predicament.

“I’ve had to hear your moans and whines, knowing they were for someone else.” He said angrily, pulling at your dress, ripping it upwards as you tried to pull it back down, hands clawing backwards at his arms.

“You’re insane!” You screamed at him, “Get off me, Cregan!”

Aemond chuckled from behind, “You know it’s me. You always did like it rough,” His hands smacked yours away from him, shoving your face down on the desk again, “And poor Cregan just couldn’t do that for you, could he?”

Tears fell onto the desk below you, brain short circuiting as you didn’t know what to do or how to react, “Cregan, this isn’t funny.” You tried one last time, hoping his name would reach him, to snap him out of whatever this was, “Please, stop.”

Two large hands wrapped themselves around your wrists, bringing them both into one as he squeezed, face coming to the side of yours as he growled deeply, “Stop. Calling. Me. That.”

Aemond’s free hand ripped at your lace panties that you had worn for Cregan, tearing them to shreds from your body, the burn of the material hot against your skin. His hips pressed into you from behind roughly, and you stifled a confused and frightened sob.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy like I’ve wanted to for years.” He emphasised with a grind against your backside, “I’ve had to watch you cry over me, my sweet byka mēre.” Little one, You sobbed loudly at the name, “Ao sagon ñuhon. Iksan dōrī ivestragī jā.” You’re mine. I am never letting you go.

It was him.

It was truly him.

Cregan couldn’t speak Aemond’s native tongue. 

Cregan didn’t know the names your late husband had called you.

It was him. 

It was Aemond.

You sobbed beneath him, you didn’t know if it was in relief, in horror, or in fear. 

You were so confused. 

“Valzȳrys?” Husband, You cried, trying to turn your head, but knowing that you would be met with a face that didn’t match.

Long fingers brushed through your folds, finding them slick already, “Shhh.” Aemond quietened you, “Let me take care of my ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

Aemond smeared your slick through your folds with the tip of his cock as he brushed against your bud and then pushed inside of you. A long groan fluttered through his chest, vibrating against your back.

He set a brutal pace immediately, the old, heavy, wooden desk jutting with each thrust, your hips no doubt bruised from the force. Tears still fell from your eyes as you cried out, feeling him pull you by your hair, causing your back to arch up against his front as he fucked into you harder, hot pants in your ear. 

Aemond fucked you in a way that only he knew how, pulling mewl after mewl from you with every stroke, large palm squeezing at your throat whilst the other moved to grasp at your hip, pulling you back onto his cock roughly, slick dripping down your thighs as the coil within you began to tighten.

“So fucking tight for me.” He grunted from behind, hand coming to your front to gather some slick from your folds as he parted them further, his cock plunging inside of you from between them, “So fucking wet. I have missed this little pussy.”

His fingers pressed against your bud, swirling in time with his thrusts, causing your pleasure to mount faster and faster, the tears having stopped falling from your eyes as you moaned loudly, head thrown back against his shoulder. 

Your release was bounding towards you rapidly, and Aemond felt it. 

“Squeezing me so good, you gonna cum for me already?”

You nodded, feeling a smirk beside your cheek as he pressed harder against your bud, “Cum for me.”

The coil snapped, and warmth flooded over your body as your writhed in his grip, walls gripping his cock as you came hard. Aemond increased his pace, fucking into you harder as he squeezed your neck roughly, mind spinning and vision going black in the corners. 

You felt like you were floating. 

You hadn’t felt like this in years.

Aemond moaned from behind you as your walls clamped down on him, “Such a perfect little pussy.” He thrusted deeply into you, grinding the air out of your lungs as your mouth dropped open, “Made me for me. Only me.”

You body began to feel heavy as he continued to squeeze your throat, mind going fuzzy as you floated in bliss, his cock drilling into your walls, the sound of your slick release obscene in the room as he clapped his hips against yours. 

“You’re mine.” Came a growl that sounded just like Aemond’s voice and not Cregan’s, tip of his cock jutting into your cervix painfully, “Forever.”

You nodded weakly and whined, “Yours. Only yours.” 

Tears began to spring into your eyes again, knowing that this was Aemond. Knowing that this was him, but also knowing that you could never have him truly. Knowing he was gone, and never coming back, and although you had tried, although you did love Cregan, you would never truly move on from Aemond. 

You would always be his.

The grip around your neck pulled away and blood rushed to your head, strange euphoria taking over as you felt his pull out of you from behind. You stumbled forward slightly before he caught you, turning you around and lifting you onto the desk. And although you were staring at Cregan’s face, with his stormy grey eyes and his brown hair, you could tell just by the way his features contorted, by the way he moved or talked or fucked you, that it was Aemond. 

And at this, more tears came.

Aemond sucked his tongue at you, wiping away a tear roughly as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and without waiting another second, slid back inside of your walls, a needy moan falling from your lips as you continued to cry.

Aemond began to rub at your clit again, sending blinding pleasure back up your spine. It was almost too much, too intense, added with everything else, your mind was running in circles.

You whimpered and tried to run away from his fingers, which only served to anger him. 

“Stop crying.” He ordered, hand slapping at your clit in warning causing you to yelp.

You hiccuped and sniffled, body jolting with every thrust as he pushed you backwards to lay down on the desk, hovering over you, one hand gripping your shoulder to pull you back down on him, the other pressed onto your swollen bud, “You like when I fuck this little pussy?” He grunted, and you closed your eyes, trying to imagine his face instead of seeing Cregan’s.

“You’ve been thinking of me, haven’t you?” He chastised you, tutting meanly as you nodded your head with a suppressed sob, “He could never fuck you the way I can.”

Pleasure mounting within you again, all you could do was nod and babble yes.

This seemed to both please and anger Aemond, his thrusts speeding up as your spine rubbed painfully into the hard wooden surface, “Cregan could never give you what you want. What you need. He’s useless.” A tear tracked down your cheek as you turned your head away, looking at the far wall as he ploughed into your cunt, “It’s only me. Only I can make you feel this good.”

You moaned beneath him as you felt your second peak rising just as rapidly as the first, his hand not once relenting. But your non-answer came at a cost. Pain bloomed in the side of your cheek as you squeaked, slap having caught your attention as Aemond pinched your jaw in his hand to look up into eyes that weren’t his.

“Say it.” He thrust into you sharply and as deep as he could go, sparks of pain rippling through your cervix in a haze of confusing pleasure.

“Only you,” You whined, “Always you, Aemond.”

“Good girl.”

Aemond’s pace increased, determined to bring you to your end as well as reach his, each thrust jolting the desk against the floor and punching the air from your lungs. You knew that by morning you’d be an aching and bruised mess, but that thought only brought you closer to your peak.

Loving kisses were dotted against your cheeks as Aemond soothed the tracks of tears away with his lips. Your hands reaching up to wrap themselves around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him in closer.

“Please.” You whimpered, but you didn’t know what for.

Aemond’s arms scooped under your back and pulled you closer to him, changing the angle so that his cock pressed deeper and at a higher angle, one that he knew you loved the most.

And it was all that you needed before you fell of the edge with him, head tossed back in ecstasy as you came for the second time, Aemond following you with a long moan, pressing as deep as he could inside of you. 

“I love you.” You whispered into his neck, feeling his cock pulse inside of you, cum filling up your walls.

Your hands soothed the hair at the front of his face in a way you knew he liked, and you felt him shudder from above, kisses pressed into the crux of your shoulder and neck as he whispered into the skin. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

I love you.

All too soon, the high of your ecstasy fizzled away, and reality came crashing down around you. Your arms and legs tightened around him, small hiss coming through his teeth as your walls clamped around him. 

The stinging prickle of tears filled your eyes again, “Please don’t leave me.” You cried, heart beginning to feel as though it was breaking all over again. 

Aemond pulled away from you, though not without a struggle, a different face looking down at you with a familiar sign of love. His hand came to brush the tears away from your cheek slowly, before he leant down to pull you into a kiss, your lips shuddering as you poorly contained a sob, “I will never leave you.” He whispered against your lips, “Not now, not ever. I am always here.” He pulled away, soothing your hair from your face as his brows pulled together in a way that you knew pain was coming. 

You tried to sit up, to try and soothe his pain, to instinctually run for the medication you had kept all these years, but he stopped you, cupping your cheek with his large hand as he looked down at you, eyes now full of determination, “I am always watching you. And one day, Cregan won’t be a problem anymore.” 

You blinked in confusion as you looked at him, your own brows furrowing, but before you could even respond, his eyes shut in pain and a groan whittled through his lips, heel of his hand pressed into the side of his face where Aemond had lost his eye. 

“Aemond?” You whispered quietly, unsure what was happening.

Grey eyes opened slightly, looking at you in confusion as he blinked a couple of times, “Huh?” A low groan came from deep within his chest as he clutched the side of his head, “Wha- Wher-“

“Cregan?”

His eyes opened at you again, and then did a sweep of you and the position you were in. You looked no doubt a mess, hair tousled, neck red from where Aemond’s- Cregan’s hands had squeezed, down to your ripped dress, to finally where you were still connected, your combined releases leaking onto the old wooden desk.

Blinking rapidly he noticed the tear tracks staining your cheeks, and suddenly the pain was pushed away by concern. Cregan’s hand came to touch your neck tentatively, fear rising on his features, "Are you okay?” His voice was rushed, “Are you hurt? Did I- Did I hurt you?”

Guilt and pain struck in your chest. 

He thought you were hurt. 

He thought he hurt you. 

You shook your head rapidly, clutching the sides of his face in your hands, “No, no. You didn’t hurt me. Not at all.”

Cregan seemed to relax at this, though there was still confusion as he looked at you, forehead pulled in pain as he tried to piece everything together.

“Did we…”

You bit at your lip, worrying it between your teeth, “Are you okay? Do you remember anything?”

The man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think, “I remember smelling food, and then I had this urge to go somewhere.“

Your heart began to race in your chest as you looked at him. You wet your lips with your tongue, eyes searching his face for any sign of Aemond left. 

What had just happened?

Was any of that real?

What was happening to you?

What was happening to Cregan?

“Hey.” Cregan caught your attention again, lowering his face to your height, “Are you okay?”

Your mouth was dry. 

Were you okay?

No.

Yes.

You didn’t know.

“I’m okay.” You lied.

Cregan frowned at your obvious avoidance, “You sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Positive.” You reassured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, your stomach turning. 

When you pulled away, Cregan was watching you with caution again.

“What?” You asked quietly, fear beginning to rise inside of you. 

Did he remember?

Does he know?

Did he-

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You couldn’t help it. 

You couldn’t stop it if you tried. 

A broken sob fell through your lips like a half laugh.

Had you?

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know on the general taglist post here :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[olderthannetfic]

Have you ever had a kink awakening that was completely ruined by someone who would never know that they ruined it for you cos they’re a dead historical person?

Yeah, so when I was 9-11 y/o my favourite trope are cold CEO tropes. You know, slightly emotionally abusive, overly possessive, ultra-dominant, maybe a bit physically forceful, super rich, eventually fell madly in love with you.

THEN I decided to read up on psychology. AT 12. Cos I was a kid and I want to be crime-drama writer. (slightly concerning ages to read these things, but that’s not the point, dw abt it)

Sadly, I read about Freud’s ‘a man will eventually marry his own mother’ and the consequential ppl’s opinion the ‘a woman is attracted to a man like her own father’.

My dad is a distant patriarch with white-collar job, and that’s too close of a read. So for a few years I can’t look straight at cold CEO type characters properly and had to avoid them because of damned Sigismund Schlomo.

In this chance I would like to air out some funfacts about Sigmund Freud because digging up his grave and telling his dead skeleton that he ruined a lot of smut for me will get me diagnosed with hysteria by his ghost.

His birth name was Sigismund Schlomo, but he ended up using the name Sigmund for most of his life because his actual name isn’t catching on

Sigmund’s 40y/o dad kinda mail-order-bride-ed a 20 year old woman from Vienna as his third wife. They had a daughter—Sigmund’s little sister—and Sigmund just kinda headcanon-ed that his sister is the child of his step-mom with his older brother because they looked like a better fit together since his own dad looked too old for his step-mom.

Sigmund’s dad (a jewish man who escaped to the east bc of the nazi) once said that he was pushed to the curb while walking in the sidewalk and his hat was stepped on. Freud was like ‘so did you do anything to them? fight back, spit on them or something?’ and his dad was like, ‘uh, no, i took my hat and walk home’. Then Freud thought to himself like ‘YOU ARE SO FUCKING WEAK, FATHER!’.

Tangentially related to this, not long after, in class, Sigmund performed a monologue of Brutus from The Robbers where a character wanted to kill his own dad.

Sigmund, as a young teenage boy, once urinated in his parents bedroom IN FRONT OF his parents. So his dad was like “You’ll never amount to anything” (mind you, he was usually his parents’ golden child). So everytime he recounted this story he always followed it up with his achievements.

As part of research into what is now psychoanalysis, he attempted to dig up his childhood memories, and apparently the earliest memory he could remember is seeing his own mom naked.

He had a crush on a girl when he was a teenager, but as an adult he said that he probably actually love her mom, but projected his feelings on to her daughter.

He wanted to become a natural scientist for a sec, but through his own reflection he said its probably bcs he read an article that kinda hone in on the ‘maternality’ of mother nature

source: Freud by Peter Gay

--

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 17

Use the ghost of a dead character

This was actually the first entry I wrote for the event. It was like I got possessed by something. You could even say I was possessed by the ghost of someone. Just kidding.

Anyway, for day 17 you get more Toki trauma. Can be sort of read as a follow-up of yesterday's entry though it's not necessary to read that one beforehand.

Toki opened his eyes and he was in that goddamn basement again. He couldn’t count the days he had been stuck in there. At some point, they had started merging into each other. It was like it was one, huge, never-ending day. 

And he was chained, and he was bleeding. And his whole body hurt so much but Magnus’ words hurt even more.

“Nobody is coming for you. Nobody cares about you, Toki.”

“Dat amsnt true!” Toki protested and the glint of Magnus’ eyes was so scary that he could only look down. 

“Dethklok isn’t coming because they don’t love you, they never did. They just used you because it was convenient. You’re just like me, Toki.”

“No, dey ams my brothers! Dey loves me!”

“That’s what you’ve been telling yourself this whole time. That’s what you wanted to believe. But they’re selfish assholes that only think about themselves.”

“Noes!”

“Accept it, Toki! Nobody has ever wanted you, not even your parents! You’re gonna die alone…” Suddenly, the skin of Magnus’ face melted away, revealing the bones of his rotting skull. “You’re gonna die like me!”

“Noes! Noes!” Toki shut his eyes…

And opened them in his room. “Noes!” He screamed again, struggling with a chain that wasn’t there anymore.

“Toki!” Skwisgaar’s voice came into his auditory field and he was wrapped between slim yet firm arms. “Ams you okeys?”

He was gasping for air and he could feel his heart pounding on his ear. “It ams…he says…”

“Shhh…” Skwisgaar rubbed the side of his face against the top of Toki’s head. “It amsn’t real. Just a dumb, dildoes, nights mairs.”

Toki’s eyes welled with tears, well-aware that was only half of the truth. “He says dats to me…all de times…” He sniffed softly. “Whens I…”

“...Ja?”

“He says dats…nobodies loves me…” As he talked, the sob was creeping up his throat. “Dats I…woulds dies alones…dats you didnts…”

The grasp Skwisgaar had on him suddenly released and Toki looked up in fear, only to be faced with Skwisgaar’s deep blue eyes. “You ams not deres anymores. You ams here.” After a pause, he added. “Wif mes.”

Toki’s breath hitched, fighting the urge not to sob, but when Skwisgaar’s arms wrapped around his waist, his soft golden mane nuzzling against Toki’s jaw so gently, the tears started to flow. He gazed at his warmly-lit room, the plane model that he had been teaching Skwisgaar to build earlier, the guitar resting against his night stand. And the sob inside him started to soothe.

Skwisgaar pulled back a little and watched his face. He had that severe look in his face, the same one he directed to him when he didn’t practice, but instead he leaned in and kissed Toki’s forehead. So sweetly, that Toki could’ve started crying again. 

Or, he could cup Skwisgaar’s face and kiss him on the lips. So, that’s what he did. And when Skwisgaar kissed him back, he couldn’t help shedding one last tear. 

Except this one was of happiness.

“Thank yous.” He whispered against Skwisgaar’s mouth. 

“Pfft, this amsn’t no charities.” Skwisgaar said, with his usual arrogant tone, though when their eyes met, he smiled. “Feels bettors now?”

Toki nodded and nestled against him on the bed. They just stared at each other for a really long time.

It was hard to believe sometimes. Even though it’s what he had always wanted. Growing up in a loveless family made him feel like maybe he didn’t deserve any type of love. That even though he had done nothing wrong, maybe he shouldn’t have been born. That he’d die as lonely as he felt every single day he spent in that cold and cruel house. And so many things that happened to him after he escaped did nothing but reconfirm that fear. 

If he were to be honest, Toki wasn’t even sure anymore if Magnus had actually told him those things, or if it was just his deepest fears talking back to him while he was on the brink of death.  

He stretched his hand to stroke Skwisgaar’s cheek. And Skwisgaar leaned into the touch, like a cat welcoming his owner back home. “Whats you thinkingks?” He asked.

Toki smiled. “Nothings.”

It was really hard to believe sometimes. 

That he wasn’t alone anymore. 

[goodnightmemes]

TIKTOK STARTERS PART 8

❛ I think we were a little too Shania Twain about the situation…As in ‘that don’t impress me much’, you know what I’m saying. ❜

❛ Sometimes if you just trust in the universe it will take you to the most unexpected places…LIKE THE I-95! ❜

❛ If you’re wondering what I’m doing here - me too. ❜

❛ If she’s your girl then why is she under my bridge answering my riddles? And you know that she not gonna get any of them right and that means I’m taking her. You’re losing your girl to me, the troll! ❜

❛ Thank god that thing doesn’t have emotions because it would be shitting itself. ❜

❛ I must ask you through my bitter tears though they fall upon the ground, do you think the floral pattern swim trunks or the solid color? ❜

❛ What if that would have happened to me? I’m so glad that happened to you! ❜

❛ The only arresting this guy will be doing is a restin’ on this soft soft bed. ❜

❛ If that makes me filled with misery well then call me Kathy Bates. ❜

❛ Poor guy doesn’t even have a co-host. ❜

❛ This is personal to me because…I lost my brother to podcasting. ❜

❛ That is so unrelated to what I just asked. ❜

❛ Have you ever wondered how many houses in your lifetime you’ve driven by that have people locked up in the basement? ❜

❛ Look what I got for my funeral! A ouija board! That way I can go to the funeral too. I don’t want to miss the party of the year. ❜

❛ You’re the orangest…crap nothing rhymes with orange.  ❜

❛ Life is a journey. Life is a highway, if you will, and I’m hydroplaning violently into the cement divider. ❜

❛ Ever since I started dressing like a mob wife babies have been waving at me a lot more. ❜

❛ Dude, we have so much in common. We both love shapes and chocolate milk. ❜

❛ You just saying that created so much paperwork for me. ❜

❛ That’s basically kidnapping. I mean, some would call it kidnapping. I would also call it kidnapping. ❜

❛ Don’t go around introducing yourself as a rogue criminal, cause now I have to call someone. ❜

❛ I don’t like who I become on Carnival cruises.  ❜

❛ I’m gonna wake up dead because I didn’t pay my dues to the wasps. ❜

❛ You’re going down Tom and Jerry style you fucking muppet. ❜

❛ I may not have a doctor but I have the palette of a little French boy. I’m gonna live forever. ❜

❛ You can’t light a candle when the Devil’s outside! ❜

❛ I don’t respect ghosts. Like what you mean you possessed a child? You could have possessed Patrick Mahomes and played his superbowl but you possessed a child with a peanut allergy?  ❜

❛ That’s why you’re not in heaven, cause you’re kind of a douchebag. ❜

❛ Oohh paranormal activity this, paranormal activity that - get a pair of bitches bro.❜

❛ We’ve only tripped about seven times. That’s barely any. ❜

❛ The Department of Hoes and Insecurity - it’s the thot patrol! ❜

❛ You remember when society peaked and we had Optimus Prime doing a monologue over Linkin Park? Nothing’s been the same ever since. ❜

❛ So the pettiness gods are having their way with me. ❜

❛ I believe in holding grudges. I’ll heal in hell. ❜

[zebaji]

Every word that falls from his lips is a lie.

Every sentence is a deception that knots against another previously told lie, fabricating a story that has the Ninja sympathetic and gullible towards him.

Gene has taught him well when it comes to using lies as truth, to believe something so false that it becomes real anyway. It is his only weapon that he can wield on a flying ship where every person here on board is his enemy, whether they realize it or not.

“You knew Sensei Garmadon?” Lloyd asks, his voice filled with confusion, distrust, and a tiny bit of awe, as he looks at the wall of pictures. He ignores the pictures of the other ninja, instead focusing on the one with Harumi and Garmadon, both smiling at the camera. He is very careful not to let the painful–angry– parts of him escape. Me, he wants to scream venomously at Harumi, who ducks her head and nods sadly. It should have been me with him, and you lost him.

He wasn’t yours to lose.

“Yeah,” She forces a smile onto her face. “He was my mentor, and I considered him to be like a father to me. He sacrificed himself after Chen released the Anacondrai Generals.”

Lloyd nods, pushing down an enraged scream as he tilts his head to look at her curiously. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard– especially with one of his daughters on your team.”

Harumi shrugs, “It’s not so bad. Nya regrets everything she did, and she’s constantly trying to make amends. I just wish that his sacrifice hadn’t resulted in the ghosts and the Preeminent.”

“I heard,” Lloyd hums, “Kai, right? He was the one who possessed Morro?”

“Yeah. Master Wu was inconsolable for months. His son possessed only a month after his brother died? It was a very bad time,” Harumi tells him, biting her lip and turning away to hide her watery eyes. Lloyd wants to grin, Good. Feel at least a fraction of my pain.

“He must have been glad for you,” Lloyd instead says, lightly and quietly. “The remaining piece of his family.”

Harumi chuckles slightly, “I’d like to think so. And now he’s gone too.”

Lloyd puts a hand on her shoulder. “I get it,” he says, and Harumi must think he means the dead Emperor and Empress that had been lost to the fires that he created– and not that he aches for her family that should be rightfully his. “I feel the same. But we can work together to make sure that we won’t lose our loved ones again.”

Harumi gives him a genuine smile, and Lloyd wants to tear it off of her face. Instead, he grins back, all innocent and trusting, and watches as she falls right into the palm of his hands.

[A continuation of this post]

[wisteriasymphony]

Pulcinelle - Fragmentation

“Victory is still within my grasp, Nathalie! I have no need for the minor miraculous! Victory is mine, victory is mine!” Gabriel shouted through his phone, tearing his atelier apart while he paced like a caged tiger. 

The man had not rested for the slightest moment since the Chinese Miracle Box had been stolen from him, and his face wore the exhaustion like a coat of warpaint. Silvery gray hair fell over his brows in the haphazard manner of a battle-torn settlement, white banners of surrender tainted with ash as his eyes burned with a conqueror’s fury. And yet, he had conquered nothing. Monarch had crowned himself king with a power he no longer possessed. 

Raising up a crumpled diagram to the air, Gabriel continued to roar and howl. “I know the frequencies of each Kwami’s power! With the traces of their energy recorded within me, I shall be able to replicate them!” The ruined king burst into a manic laughter, shaking the paper like an empty chalice as its brothers swirled across tables and laid in dead heaps on the floor. “With the immense power of Embodied Transmission, all of the minor miraculous will be recreated and under my control! Do you understand, Nathalie? I’ve won! I have won!” 

Monarch Renatus - Alliance Rings

Alliance Rings shall be constructed of an alloy (hereby designated Alliance Alloy) of 50% Silver, 39.9999% Lutetium, 10% Scandium, and 0.0001% Miraculum. Miraculum powder shall be harvested independently and combined with Lutetium before the Alliance Alloy is synthesized. Miraculum powder will display properties similar to mica, giving Alliance Rings a faint purple sparkle that may be used as a marketable feature. 

Miraculum charged Alliance Rings -> Instantaneous Akumatization -> Potent Transmission? 

“Gabriel.“ 

“All I need is to convince Tomoe of this plan, and I’ll be—“ 

“Gabriel!” Nathalie was pinching her nose so hard she was half worried she would snap it off. “You had the Rabbit Miraculous with you, the first thing you should’ve done is gone back to save Emilie. We can’t keep helping you if you can’t help yourself!” 

“This isn’t just about Emilie anymore!” 

Gabriel began to choke at the sound of his own words, letting the phone drop to the floor. All at once, the room began to spin, the papers and charts around him like a sea of parchment with an ever-shifting gravity, no up nor down. He had to grasp the edge of the table to prevent himself from collapsing and remember, remember that it was all about Emilie and it would only ever be about Emilie. He had to remember the ghost she had become, picture his love slipping away and resolve beyond all means and measure to bring her back. It was about Emilie, and ergo everything was justified, nothing was his fault! Gabriel could swear he had never been at fault!

“Yeah,” Nathalie barked back. “I can tell.” 

And so she ended the call. 

—— Hours later, in another office… ——

“Where are they?” 

Gabriel was not at all comfortable with the idea of admitting failure to Tsurugi Tomoe. “Where is what?” He stammered out, loosening his collar with a finger. 

“The collection of minor miraculous,” she repeated herself. “You said you had them.” 

“When did I ever say that? You must, uh… You must be mistaken, Tomoe.” 

“At 21:08 last night exactly, I was greeted with an email in my personal inbox. Its contents were:” 

Madam Tsurugi,

 I am pleased to inform you that I have acquired the possession of fifteen minor miraculous this evening. I feel as though this may be beneficial to our plans for the Perfect Alliance Initiative, and would like to discuss alterations to our plans in the morning. As you know, these artifacts are highly powerful (albeit not what I am currently searching for), and I believe you will know the best course of action moving forward. 

An earlier meeting later on this evening would also suit me, although I do plan on following this sudden turn of events up with a grand speech to Paris as a whole to highlight Ladybug’s catastrophic blunder. Please refrain from contacting me until after I have concluded this. 

Signed, Gabriel Agreste 

“…That must have been an automated message.” 

“Do you take me for an idiot, Agreste?” 

Gabriel swallowed hard, bringing his face into a taut closed smile that pushed his glasses further up his face. The cocktail of drugs he’d taken to restore himself was only making Tomoe’s face swim before him, her features blending into a blurry blobfish mush that he couldn’t stay still long enough to focus on. The sweat rolled down his face with the tempo of his twitching cheek. 

“I can say with utmost certainty that—“ 

“That you take me for an idiot?” 

“No!” Gabriel blurted out. “…That what transpired last night was due to circumstances beyond my control. I believe the culprit we should turn our attentions towards is my nephew, Felix.“ 

“The fourteen year old boy?” 

Gabriel swallowed again, following the action up with a quiet, nervous laughter. Of course it had to be the most ridiculous thing, for a boy less than a third Gabriel’s age to defeat him, but there was simply no other leads! Gabriel could picture that twerp now, cackling to himself as he sifted through the jewels rightfully stolen for Gabriel, crying to his mother about how innocent he was and how his uncle deserved to be robbed like this! But Gabriel Agreste would not take this slight standing down, not for a moment. Just as Tomoe had put it, Felix was but a small defenseless child. 

“…Yes.” 

“I see no reason in working with you any longer if teenagers can surpass you in competence,” Tomoe stated coldly, rising from her chair. 

Gabriel slammed his hand down on the desk, the sweat from his palm graying the slick white sheen on the white wood. 

“One last gamble, Tomoe. I have one last gamble.” 

Gabriel fished out his brooch from underneath his jacket lapel, holding it up to the light. To the untrained eye, the center of the brooch was a cabochon of charoite, dark streaks clouding the surface of the gem. From its back shot out four spokes, the top two longer than the bottom: Pearlescent, shimmering nacre reflecting tones of lilac and blush pink. Silver veins ran up each wing tenderly, so thin they were hard to even notice. Perfect, invisible segments, tapering off at the ends of each wing into immaculate points. 

“Feel its power, Tomoe,” Gabriel panted, leaning onto the desk. “This is all we have ever needed! Imagine even an ember of this power flowing through the alloy in every ring! Even the smallest pinch of this brooch as a component, and I will have every customer of yours as my minions.” 

Tomoe slowly sat herself back down, keeping a hand on the table to steady herself. 

“And how do you plan on accomplishing this?” 

Gabriel’s laugh was hoarse and already sickly, his grasp on the brooch so tight the lower wings began to poke into the flesh of his hand. 

“If there’s anything I know intimately, Tomoe, it is that a miraculous can break,” he replied. “And if I can even shatter a single wing of this brooch, I can redistribute its power as I see fit.” 

taglist: @notchocostrwberry @beezonia @silliersiluriforme @lemons-taste @pyrusinc @wuhuislandconspiracy

[butcherlarry]

Weekly Fic (and Meat) Recs 60

I'M BACK! I had a lovely time on PTO! I went home, visited with family, visited with the cattle, celebrated my birthday, attended a banquet, got a wicked sharp meat cleaver (very excited about this), visited a new arboretum, saw birds, took pictures of birds, and survived the solar eclipse! All and all, a good time all around :) Got some reading done too, so there are fic recs from what I read last week and this week on this list. Also, a meat 101 lesson at the end, USDA beef quality grades edition!

The Brothers Wayne by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) - Superbat, wip. An update to the Bruce and Wade Wilson are brothers fic. Some family bonding between the brothers, the only way siblings know how. Beating the shit out of each other :)

Fresh Wounds (Still Cut Deep) by Inkwell1013 - Batfam, complete. A fic inspired by this art from sully-s. Alfred taking care of a newly orphaned Bruce and having no clue what he's doing (except his best).

dead man's party by TheResurrectionist - Batfam, wip. An update to Jason sees ghosts fic (while being haunted by Martha Wayne)

Patroclus by widow_account - Superbat, complete. I shrieked when I saw this fic was completed! I need to go back and reread it again in it's completed glory. Clark is kidnapped and sent to War World to fight. Bruce saves him. Much feels are involved too.

They Also Serve by Ginevra_Benci - Batfam, complete. Alfred wakes up to a surprise, Bruce kidnapping adopting a small angry child (Dick).

Precedent by Cdephiki - Batfam, complete. Damian joins the family early AU! The second fic in the series. This story is about Jason joining the family.

Padam by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) - Superbat, wip. More of college Clark at a gay club. Bruce Wayne has entered the chat :)

Just A Little Bit... by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) - Superbat, wip. More of eldritch Bruce and alien Clark! A plan is in the making to infiltrate Cadmus. Jason and Dick visit Ivy to ask for help

Unreasonable Love by elizabethgee - Superbat, wip. Bruce and Clark start dating and it is found out by the media. This wouldn't be too much of a problem except the fact that this awakens something in Clark's Kryptonian brain and he gets a little possessive protective of his mate boyfriend :)

shiftwork by TheResurrectionist - Bruce Wayne, complete. A neat fic from an outsider's point of view! Bruce visits one of Wanye Enterprise's worksites.

Oh Can't You See What Love Has Done (What it's Doing to Me?) by dio_icaurtica - Superbat, complete. A fic inspired by this post from frownyalfred!

Patchwork Pod by Ktkat9 - Superbat, Batfam, Superfam, wip. More of the mer Bruce fic! Tim and Bruce are recovering from their injuries.

Azure Catching the Moonlight by RenaiRin - Superbat, wip. Superman gets hit with some pink kryptonite. Be sure to read the tags! :D

Show Me How to Lie (You're Getting Better All The Time) by BookwormByNight - Superbat, wip. A Superman from an other universe shows up in the watchtower. He doesn't want to leave and takes a special interest in Bruce for some reason :)

Bruce Doing Mundane Things by aesthetic_pleasure - Superbat, wip. Exactly what it says in the title. Bruce does mundane things and Clark enjoys watching him do them.

Happy reading!

And now, as promised above:

BEEF QUALITY GRADING 101!

Since I live in the USA, my experience with beef quality grading is with the USDA standards. But, most of these rules (kinda) apply to other countries, they might just have different standards of what carcasses make it into what quality grades (for fun, look up USDA beef marbling cards and then Japanese beef quality grading cards. Marbling that would be acceptable for high quality beef in the US would be considered lower quality in Japan!)

What are USDA beef quality grades? Have you ever been in the grocery store, looked at a package of beef steaks (ribeye, sirloin, strip loin, filets, etc.) and saw a sticker on the package that said "USDA PRIME" or "USDA CHOICE"? That's the beef's quality grade! It determines the worth of the carcass. That, in combination with the Yield Grade (how much sellable meat can a processor/retailer/etc. can get off the carcass) gives you the overall price of the carcass.

There are two major factors that go into determining the quality grade of a carcass, the marbling and the maturity. Marbling is the intramuscular fat (fat inside of the muscle). Since marbling contributes to flavor and tenderness, more marbling is better! Below are the USDA marbling standards for beef carcasses:

The other factor is the maturity of the carcass. This is determined by looking at the ossification (cartilage turning into bone) of the dorsal processes (the long spiny fingers along the back bone) along the spine of the carcass. Look at the cartilage caps in the green boxes in the picture below:

The one on the far left is very white. If you were to scratch it with your fingernail, it would feel smooth. This would be considered an young carcass, or "A" maturity. The more those caps fill with bone, the older the carcass. The one on the far right has those caps completely filled with bone, so that would be considered and older carcasses, or "D" maturity. When a carcass passes into "C" maturity (like the one in the middle), that carcass can no longer be graded in to the higher priced quality grades (USDA Standard to Prime).

The maturity matters because as the animal gets older, they develop more connective tissue in the muscles. This decreases the tenderness of the meat, and consumers don't want to pay more money for tough meat. This is also why meat coming out of the middle of the carcass (along the back, so ribeye and loin) are more expensive. Those muscles have less connective tissue, so they are more tender. The tenderloin (Impress your friends by calling it by it's scientific name, psoas major!) is the most tender muscle on the carcass, so that's why it tends to be the most expensive.

Below is a chart showing what maturities and marbling scores are needed to reach what quality grade. For example, a carcass with "B" maturity and "Modest" marbling would be graded as USDA Choice.

USDA Prime is the highest quality grade a carcass can receive (well, actually USDA High Prime, but I can go more into how that's determined if someone asks about it). The lowest qualty grade you see in a retail store would be USDA Standard. The USDA Commercal, Utility, Cutter, and in the verrrrryyyy tiny corner in the bottom right is Canner. These grades are given to older animals, like old cows and bulls. USDA Commercial might be sold whole muscle (boneless) in restaurants after it has been enhanced (pumped with water, salt, sugar brine to make the meat more flavorful and tender). Otherwise, these carcasses that are lower quality grades are ground up for ground beef! Nothing more tender than ground beef! They can also get canned for canned beef. I have had many delicious meals of beef and noodles from canned beef from my family's herd 😋

As I mentioned before, this quality grade, along with the yield grade, determines the price of the carcass. If you want to check those out, click the link below:

USDA AMS daily beef reports

The report for beef carcass price per hundred weight is the second link down, called "Beef Carcass Price Equivalent Index Value". The USDA Agricultural Marketing Service always has these reports and they are always updating them each day. You will see price fluctuations throughout the year. I looks like for April 12th, the most valuable carcass for that day is a carcass that grades USDA Prime, with a Yield Grade of 1-3, and a hcw (hot carcass weight) of 600-900 lbs. A carcass that hit those standards will get you $297.92 per hundred weight (every 100 lbs, you get that much amount of money). So, a 800 lb carcass that is USDA Prime, Yield Grade 3 is worth $2383.36. This would be considered very rare though. Most carcasses in the US are grading USDA Choice, Yield Grades 1-3.

Anyway! I hope you enjoyed that Beef Grading 101! If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask! I love discussing this!