#but what the fuck was even going on in the shattered castle. truly WHAT was going on in that book i actually don’t know

[bevinconner]

honestly conner was such a load bearing character in the series bc after he died and no longer had a direct hand in the ongoing conflict the story fell apart

[farfromstrange]

Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness. 

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally. 

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by. 

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth. 

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.  

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you. 

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him. 

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave. 

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you. 

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again. 

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself. 

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive. 

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to. 

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure. 

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.  

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you. 

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you. 

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands. 

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts. 

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you. 

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop. 

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper. 

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you. 

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart. 

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again. 

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all. 

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start? 

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say. 

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him. 

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.” 

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same. 

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back. 

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

[kingofthecotas]

ivy

post-aragón, vale & pecco & the ever-present spectre of marc | ~900 words

hi hello i write things sometimes

———

Valentino doesn’t call until Monday, when the heat of anger has faded and the dust has been washed from his hair, seven hours behind and six hours spent on track—one of Marc’s tracks, irony of ironies.

(Sometimes he wonders if he can ever extricate himself from this, from them, from the noxious tendrils that have wound themselves into the sport’s neurones and synapses, an incurable infection of the central nervous system.)

Pecco almost hesitates to answer—still afraid of disappointing him, even after all this time—but his shoulder throbs when he reaches out to pick up his phone and he suddenly wants the sound of Valentino’s voice, even if it carries judgment.

“Hello?” he says, cautious.

“Are you okay?”

“Sore. Will bruise, but fine. I’ll be okay for Misano.”

Valentino hums. “Good.”

Pecco searches for something, anything, that doesn’t remind him of gravel crunching, his head snapping forwards as one hundred and fifty kilos of aluminium and rubber collided with the back of his helmet. “Sorry about your race. It was going well.”

“It was. It was fun.” He can almost see Vale waving his hand. “I have already complained to Maro. I want to make sure you are okay.”

“Fine.”

There’s a pause, silence loaded with something Pecco can’t quite identify. “And Álex?”

Ah. “Fine as well. We both got checked over.” Pecco swallows. “I, ah, spoke to him. Or—he asked to speak to me, in private, so we did. I—I am still pissed off, but it was not deliberate. I know that now.”

Valentino hums again. “But you said it.”

So this is what he really called to talk about.

“I was pissed off. Martín—”

“I know,” Valentino says, and there’s something there, not quite the disappointment Pecco feared but something like it. “Be—just be careful, Pecco, yes? If you are going to start this, be ready for where it might take you.”

“I am not starting anything.”

Again, it’s, “I know.” Then, “I know it is hard when you are hurt and angry, and there are points slipping through your fingers. But think about what you are saying.”

“Yeah.” Pecco would be more annoyed if this wasn’t coming from experience.

“Ah, maybe you do not need my advice anymore—”

“Of course I do,” Pecco interrupts, chest fluttering at the mere idea of Valentino ever becoming superfluous to him.

“Get into it with Marc all you want. He is expecting this. The team are expecting this. He will give it back to you, and somehow, he will be ready to forgive.” Valentino pauses. “Do not make his brother part of it. That—that is where there was no coming back for us, truly.”

Pecco’s breath catches, because Vale sounds—unsettled. Sad, even. “I—”

“Do you understand?”

He does. “Fucking—the week before Misano, as well. It will be messy.”

“Not too messy. Not yet.” Still fixable, is what Vale doesn’t say, but they both know anyway. “But—you can handle it. You will do better than I did.”

Quietly, Pecco thinks there couldn’t have been many worse ways to handle it all. There are certainly better ones. He can’t remember when that thought first came to him: maybe when he’d won, that first time, Aragón of all places, the king of Marc’s castle, and Marc had been—disappointed, yes, but still there with a smile and a congratulatory word. Not what Pecco had been expecting, from everything Vale had said. Maybe Vale had been wrong.

Marc has done many things to Pecco since then, but that first doubt, the first fallacy of his god, was the most earth-shattering.

“I should speak to Marc—”

“Don’t make it about him.”

“I already have.” It’s like pulling a barbed thread out through his throat, admitting that, reminding himself what he said to the cameras and microphones when he was aching and exhausted and too hot with it all to think about the consequences. “They already have, because if it is me and Álex then it is you and him.”

The silence is long this time, presses in, a storm cloud rolling over before the heavens open and lightning shatters the sky. Pecco almost stutters out an apology, except Valentino must know, because he was the one who wanted to talk about it in the first place.

When Valentino sighs, it hisses in Pecco’s ear. “It will always be about us somehow, Pecco. You will have to hold it.”

And here is what Vale did not tell them when they vowed to carry his legacy, unmistakable yellow in their young faithful hands: it would always be entwined with the ivy-choke of Marc.

Us, Valentino still says, not me and him. If he has still not managed to free himself, what hope does Pecco have?

(He knows the answer. He never will. But he can hold it, can hold the vine-twisted history alongside the bright yellow heritage.)

There’s a lot he could say. He swallows it down, sits on it all. “Are you coming on Wednesday?”

“Of course.”

“See you then. Put the weekend behind us.”

“Get ready for Misano,” Vale agrees. “One of your favourites, and you have raced there already this year. Maybe you do not even need to train, hm?” A laugh, so Pecco knows he’s only joking. So Pecco knows Valentino believes in him. “Ah, they are calling for the plane. I will speak to you soon.”

Pecco doesn’t say so you still think he is forgiving. You still think he can forgive you. He doesn’t say he’ll be in a good mood today, if you called. He closes his eyes, says, “Safe flight. See you on Wednesday.”

[fumifooms]

Marchil crumbs Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - part 3 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

Broskis remember when while madly blushing Chilchuck said he’d introduce his family to Marcille, and she madly blushed back thinking she really really wanted to meet them. Marchil W today

Dreams do come true girl!!

The full double page spread has the rest of the Laios party at the table too but i think having the whole picture distracts from the one just this section tells. Marcille is so happy to finally meet them!! Flushing with joy and awe! And chilchuck flushing right back with self-consciousness!!! Desperately trying to keep it casual. Tsundere man probably going "Ok so... This is Marcille my ex-coworker, and here are my daughters... She was really looking forward to meeting you guys but don’t read too much into it girls". The daughters being all dressed up and Puckpatti even bringing flowers and correcting Meijack hehe <3 I know it's because they're at the castle but omg, meeting the extended family energy. You knowww Marcille is gonna ask them so many questions, and try and get to know them…

Also I have remembered TODAY that Marcille has a stepdad… She prob has so many thoughts on being a stepmom then. Leaving it open as to what that could mean for marchil. She certainly acts enthusiastic about families and kids so doesn’t seem like there’s a complex there at least~

How it all started… Not very shippy I just think it’s funny and easy to miss. Her curiosity is PIQUED and what she thought she knew about Chilchuck is shattered. The bicorn chapter is really not long after this one so she must have thought so hard about how his home dynamic was like if she cooked up that ‘if I was Chilchuck’s wife’ rp so soon after & so effortlessly

Hm, you know how snooping into ppl’s personal lives is Marcille’s thing?? Isn’t that like… Not that true outside of Chilchuck though? Like, she never asked about Senshi’s backstory or really asked much of Laios either. We do see her asking their types in romance for example, but from remembrance that’s sort of where it ends. So she concentrates her focus on the nut toughest to crack, the most private and mysterious party member huh (no not Senshi obviously, Chilchuck!!)… Little ‘puzzle to crack’ guy, ‘resistant to being known deeper’ guy. I’m not over how she was salty that he opened up to Senshi more than with her lol

I think I’ve talked about it in the previous crumbs part but I think the bircorn chapter truly is the marchil chapter, and I wanna point out how Chilchuck reallyyyy fell from her esteem because "he cheated on his wife", leading to her being snippy with him during the chapter, BUT when push comes to shove she still hurried to his aid and worried for him and all. This might sound surprising, but I really like this! I think it’s great that Marcille wouldn’t coddle him if he fucked up and showed him a taste of consequences™️, but also not dropping him fully y’know, sticking through thick and thin even if she would not let shit fly. Seems like a healthy sort of devotion or companionship to me! Also her arc through the manga with Chilchuck is warping who he really is with idealization or preconceived notions mostly with his age and whatnot, so this feels like an important turning point of assessing him coldly as an adult who is not innocent at all… Before going right back to seeing him favorably and idealizing him as a great virtuous husband heh. It’s ok he’s harsh on himself he needs at least one person that believes in him hardcore let’s go <3 I’m going into really debatable grounds about morality and healthy vs unhealthy behavior lmao but yeah!! He recovered in her esteem, but she will not just give up on and leave behind this cringefail ass of a man even if he digs his hole so deep and so hard. He already got divorced once his partner would need some… Strong determination~ More on that right away

Which, what is this "I don’t want to look incompetent and I’ll even claim I’ve done things that make me look terrible to avoid it" because uuuuh, they both do it

Let's finally dig into the shapeshifters chapter! Lots of fun stuff to observe in there. Let's start with Marcille's side. There’s how, of course, Chilchuck's shapeshifter of her has her with sparkly hair with detailled shading, and how the reason she got eleminated was because of the spells in her spellbook don't match at all; Which means that personality wise, she was pretty convincing! We don't see just how well Chilchuck's vision of her match though since it didn't get much far. As we see with Laios’ shapeshifter clones, having an accurate shapeshifter is harder than one could think!

Easier to miss and more interesting though!! "It seems like Marcille B has awfully weak determination hmmm" implying Chilchuck thinks Marcille has a strong will. I think it’s especially telling when hand in hand with Chilchuck in an early chapter going "Oops not good I missed [that taking dead Kabru’s party’s wet food wasn’t the best moral decision], that’s Marcille for you." and such, where it seems like Chil sees her as someone who has strong convictions and admires/relies on her for it in some ways.

Funnily enough Chilchuck’s not the only one being flattering about the other's hair, because Marcille's shapeshifter of him's hair is... Fluffier? Throughout the whole chapter too so not just a one-off or a coincidence. Tempting to pat and carress perhaps? It's confirmed to be her shapeshifter of him with the page about it in the adventurer's bible, and it's the one that gets the furthest in the elimination! The lockpicking tools are, surprisingly, convincing enough, and the attitude is also convincing if not for the true Chilchuck being "nastier" lmao. It's idealization due to the fact she has a hard time stopping thinking of him as young, but in a way she both knows him well enough to be very convincing and idealizes him as being nicer than he actually is, not the worst I’ll take it. "Our Chilchuck is a lot nicer! 🥰" help

Have some more of Marcille praising Chilchuck

Defending her honor part 2

Ok now look at the Nightmares extra… Chilchuck would watch her series with her!! He enjoys her type of stories!! They’re on the same page even about plot points and the emotions each scenes inspire!! They would chat during watch parties!! Also this is something Marcille conjured up in her dreams so like, tbh very impressive. Chilchuck enjoying Marcille’s dream fiction isn’t something I ever expected but it sure happened

This is what a movie date would look like

I now declare lasagna the marchil dish. Seriously though I’m so curious as to what else Chilchuck’s pastas could be here. She’s fantasy italian it works out

What is that look Chilchuck… Is this life advice, love advice or what. Like it’s not just me he’s being a little suggestive right, he’s drawing a comparison to womanizers right- Okok so you, Chilchuck, say exactly what reward you want, so that makes you trustworthy ok got it. Lesson learned and she respects his professional boundaries & reassures him so he doesn’t feel as self-conscious/judged from then on.

Being on the same page and acting in perfect synchrony part 566

Looking out for the other part 307, featuring them panicking out of their minds lol (Chil is better at stress management it seems)

& Keeping the other in check part 255

I truly love how casually they treat dungeon lord Marcille. You may be under mind corruption magic and a boundless beacon of destruction at your whims right not but you’re still our cringefail Marcille and we need to look after you

Look at his smug-ass face at having successfully comforted and soothed her in the team effort

What’chu looking at loverboy. What’s up, is her face too close to you for your comfort?

Alright part 5 presumably NOT coming soon, i finally ran out of stuff to put on these hehe. Maybe the anime is gonna change that though

… And then the anime arrived and I already have stuff for a part 5. See you soon!!

part 5 is here broskis

[inkyclive]

no but wait let me add. can you imagine being cid’s spoiled little brat at the hideout. like after he saved you, he always took a particular liking to you and it went to your stupid little head. he made you feel like his little princess, always showering you with attention and molding you into this devoted little thing to the point where you’re always ready to greet him on your knees in his office when he returns from a mission, head empty and eyes wide and bright for everything little command that falls from his lips.

and it’s almost funny bc like everyone else is so sick of you calling yourself his little wife. and maybe while you don’t explicitly say it you imply it so loud with your actions. especially when cid is away. it’s the way you put yourself in charge of maintaining his study and keeping his belonging fresh for his arrival. you’re always making sure everyone stays in line or else ‘cid won’t be happy when he gets back’. you 💯 call him daddy in some occasions and tarja is ready to strangle you. it doesn’t help that gav is just as delulu and follows you around like a little puppy.

and oh when cid here’s about this he just gets this smug little look. tells everyone he’ll deal with you before bringing you to his study. there he picks you apart, teasing you by calling you his little brat, his little wife who can’t keep his name out of your mouth. so he spends all night making you say it until your voice is hoarse 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

clari you are single handling fueling my unhinged behavior for this ff series ( once again sorry for the spam pls tell me if it’s too much ~)

omg anon what a fucking DREAM

warnings: female reader, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, extremely bratty reader, morally ambiguous cid, a lil bit of degradation words: 1.2k

okayokayokay so the thing(s) i’m writing for him (one is completely focused on him and pure filth like i mentioned, the other he’s a main character but he isn’t the focus) kiiiinda touches a similar idea because i just think cid would LOVE being with a brat. a playful brat; someone who provides a bit of a challenge without it feeling like any sort of tedious work, someone who keeps him on his toes and is FUN without truly acting out (those genuine tantrums seldom but fierce, only occurring when you don’t get something you desperately wanted, and that’s when he gets to go really Daddy on you, all strict and stern and steely eyes; but he can’t quite quell the self-satisfied little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, threatening to shatter his entire act to bits).  

i just feel like if you were his girl, you’d be spoiled fucking rotten, no matter how hard he tries not to. he just can’t say no to your pretty pout and your puppy dog eyes, and he LOVES the way you giggle and squeal his name or his title whenever he gives you something you want—it’s so goddamn precious and it makes him go all melty and starry-eyed for you <3 he’d treat you like such a little princess 97% of the time and i can totally see some people at the hideaway being a lil sour about it because you get special privileges, you don’t pull your weight, you’re protected by the boss and if anyone dares to say anything they will be respectfully but sternly told to cut it out. cid always has the perfect excuses, expertly crafted and readily on hand or in his back pocket, whipped out the moment anyone even attempts to criticize you for your lack of contribution and work. 

if anything, gav loves you so much that he’s even worse, snapping at anyone who dares to say a single bad thing in your name, effectively earning him the title of your lovesick guard dog; so even when Daddy’s gone, and you get to play queen of the castle, they can’t say—or do—anything at all. it’s rare that you’ll leave your cid’s chambers alone when he isn’t around, gav glued to your side, ever-protective and watchful, ready to bark and bite at anyone who even looks at you wrong.

you really are cid’s precious little princess, they spit between themselves in hushed tones, with screwed up faces and soured tongues, making the word sound like an insult. 

there are definitely moments where cid absolutely has to tell gav to tone it down or reign it in, because in gav’s eyes you can truly do no wrong, an angel among mere mortals, ready to bend over backwards, snap his fucking spine, to your every wish and whim and will. 

and it isn’t like cid doesn’t understand the other inhabitants frustrations, doesn’t listen to their complaints and criticisms—it’s just that he really, honestly, genuinely can’t help but give you every single thing your sugary sweet heart desires. that doesn’t mean he won’t scold you for your behaviour, of course, when you’re bent over his desk and sobbing into the wood, when he’s balls fucking deep inside of you, head pressed snugly to your cervix, his voice a peculiar mix of fond condescension. his reprimands almost come out as coos, almost come out as praises, as if he’s proud, as if he finds it all so fucking cute, because as much as he wishes he didn’t, he enjoys this sick little game just as much as you do. 

he calls you his spoiled little brat, his snobby little slut, his bratty little bitch as he pounds into you, thrusts so hard they send his heavy desk skidding across the floorboards, each ram of his hips shoving it another inch or so forward, wood scraping against wood.

he spits curses about how you’re so fucking pampered, how Daddy gives you too fucking much, is too fucking lenient with you, and now, what? you think you’re the boss all of a sudden? and oh, Daddy guesses he’ll just have to put you back in your place, remind you of who’s truly in charge, even though he knows his bad little girl will have slipped from her ‘proper place’ by morning time—an inevitable outcome, just like you always do, just like he always lets you, just like he always looks forward to. 

and he’s so big, his cock is so big, it routinely rips you apart no matter how much you’ve been prepped, and he just loves watching you take it, either down your throat or in your cunt, stuffing your orifices fucking full of him, until you’re bulging and gorging on him, and then he fucks himself into you some more <3 by the end you’re oozing with him—his cum and his sweat and his spit, a whole mess of Daddy, a masterpiece. 

and even though he knows he shouldn’t play favourites, knows it’s wrong and unfair and essentially goes against everything the hideaway is supposed to be, he just can’t help but get this rush of arrogant pride anytime you dote on him, just can’t help but mollify under your requests and demands, always dripping like syrup from the prettiest pout, smooth and sweet and slathered all over him. but everything you do is harmless anyway—it isn’t like you’re hurting anyone by being a brat, so what’s the big deal?  

so what if you prance around in those silly, slutty lil milkmaid dresses he buys for you—the ones that are an inch or two too short to be considered decent, the edges of your fluffy petticoat just barely visible from beneath layers of linen, the lacy trim of the pretty panties he always gives you (after he ruins yet another pair) teasingly peeking out from under the fluffy frills when you bend over?

so what if you get a little bossy in the name of your Daddy, voice ringing with the slightest implicit threats—a saccharine lil warning sewn into your words, ghosts of my Daddy will...! haunting each sentence—when the other bearers don’t do what you want? 

so what if you don’t exactly do anything, your job nothing more than to sit there and look pretty, Daddy’s perfect little trophy wife, ready to serve him whenever he needs it, wherever he wants it, however he wants it?

so what if your room sits empty and abandoned, reduced to nothing more than storage for the outrageous amount of dresses your Daddy gifts you, while you live it up and lounge around in his quarters? 

what’s it all matter? it’s just a bit of innocuous fun, isn’t it?

any sparks of guilt are immediately snuffed out as he sinks into your cunt or rams down your throat at the end of each day, silenced by your gentle lips pressing soft kisses to his slit, or your cute tongue wrapping around his shaft, or your precious little gags and sobs and coughs as he spurts load after load of thick, hot cum down your throat. 

because the way you look up at him, the way you admire him so much, makes him feel like king of the fucking world, your love and adoration rushing through his veins like a potent drug, endlessly reinvigorating him—and that, well, that makes it all worth it, sin and culpability and remorse instantly erased from his mind. 

and oh, god help them all when he puts a fucking baby in you. 

[beauregardlionett]

kintsugi kid (what is there between us if not a little annihilation)

AO3 Link

NOTE: updated this because i decided i wasn't satisfied with it

Lord de Rolo and Lady Allura were—understandably—pissed. As were the rest of the hells, but the fractured decorum on the Lord and Lady’s faces was much more distinctly out of place.

After Fearne kicked Ashton in the face, the hells reigned in their upset long enough to be led back upstairs to Whitestone castle and guided to their rooms. They made it clear that the hells were in no condition to go to Ruidus, and would spend one more night in the castle. Ashton didn’t give a shit either way.

Ashton dragged his weary limbs into the bedroom he was in the night before and collapsed on the edge of the bed. His limbs ached and burned in tandem, as if his nerves didn't know which sensation to address first, so they just threw everything at Ashton in one go. He stretched out his new arm, hoping to alleviate even a fraction of the pain, waiting for the group to unleash their rage on him.

He only realized he was in for a truly unpleasant conversation when Laudna shut the door behind a reluctant Imogen, leaving them alone in the room.

She turned to face Ashton and crossed her arms over her chest, dark eyes glaring at them from across the room. Ashton looked away, focusing instead on his hand as he extended and curled his new molten fingers repeatedly, testing the sensation and range of motion. The energy inside was a thrilling zing through their veins.

Without looking up from their hand, Ashton asked Laudna, “how long are you going to stand there before you lay into me?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Laudna asked with emphasis.

“You want the list in chronological order or alphabetical?”

“This is not funny!” Laudna all but screeched, throwing her hands in the air. “Is your life really that much of a joke to you?”

“Have you been paying attention to anything I’ve said about my life? I think you already know the answer to that.”

“No,” Laudna exhaled, harsh and upset. “I don’t think I do. You contradict yourself at every fucking turn, Ashton. You're such a hypocrite, how would any of us know what you really think?”

Ashton finally looked up at her, their anger a kindling ember beneath their sternum. It felt different than before, less like something they could control and more like something controlling them.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Laudna leveled an admittedly terrifying glare at Ashton, her lips pressed into a thin, upset line. “How many times are you going to literally shatter before you stop being so reckless?” “I wasn’t trying to die—” Ashton protested, shifting as if to get up and abandoned the idea halfway. He was still exhausted and aching, and moving didn't help. “I don’t believe you!” Laudna cut them off, the words exploding out of her with a fierce jerk of her arms. “Your words and your actions don’t line up, Ashton. You told F.C.G. no one wants a martyr, and then you pull this because you don’t want any of us to get hurt. You tell us you care about us, that you want to live, but you don’t trust us to have your back and you continuously pull reckless stunts. What is the truth, Ashton?”

Ashton clenched their teeth together, jaw cracking slightly with the force of it. He looked down at his lava rock arm again and figured the answer was pretty clear.

“I want to have a legacy. I want to be remembered for something—something I chose, instead of something that happened to me.”

“How were any of us supposed to know? You never said a damn thing to clue us into the fact we were supposed to care about this shard the way you do. We could have helped you, Ashton! And why does this legacy have to include risking your life alone? Are you that selfish? You didn’t tell us, and you had Fearne lie for you, too!”

“Don’t pretend like you all wouldn’t have tried to stop me,” Ashton scoffed.

“Of course we would have tried to stop you!” Laudna screamed, her eyes watering and furious. “The tree warned us about what would happen if you tried to take on that stupid shard. Is it so hard to believe we would have tried to stop you because we care about you? Because we don’t want you to die? For fuck’s sake, Ashton, why don’t you trust us?”

“I never said I didn’t trust you,” Ashton ground out, that burning ember growing hotter in their chest.

“You could have fooled me!” Laudna snapped. “Everything you do implies otherwise—you didn’t need to say anything. You said you wanted a family. Well, you have one here, trying to help you, but that means we have to trust each other—mutually. But you lied to us, Ashton. You took advantage of our trust to do this. You used Fearne's curiosity and her faith in you because you knew she wouldn't try to stop you—you took advantage of her. What if we hadn’t realized something was wrong?”

“I knew you would,” Ashton said casually, shrugging and trying to contain their anger for once. They were fine, so what did it matter how they got here? What did it matter that kissing Fearne only tasted like guilt? “I trusted you all to keep me alive. Besides, I’m fine. It worked.”

“You...” Laudna trailed off, voice faltering. Ashton looked up at her and blinked at the unadulterated rage he found there. “Your hubris almost got you killed, Ashton! And we had to stand by and watch that happen! You shattered—do you understand that? Ashton, you were gone—to where we would have had to ask someone else to bring you back.”

“We did that for you,” Ashton pointed out. They sat in the same castle they had brought Laudna back in. The irony was not lost on him.

“It’s different and you know it,” Laudna bit out. “I died in a battle by mistake, and I left a body behind. You were on the verge of dying because you think you’re better than the gods and the primordials—because you are convinced they owe you something. If you actually died the way you were about to down there...Ashton, there would have been nothing left of you.”

They stared at each other in the heavy silence left behind from Laudna’s rant. Ashton’s chest felt white hot, like they needed to cough around heartburn, like acid was pooling in their throat. He held it in stubbornly, determined to prove he could control this.

“I did this to take control of my situation,” Ashton ground out eventually. “You can’t tell me that if this was about Delilah, you would have done anything different.”

“I would have talked to you all,” Laudna said, unyielding. “I would have let everyone say their piece, and explained what I was doing and why. Maybe I would have ignored everyone and gone through with it, but at least I wouldn't have done it alone, or used someone's faith in me against them. That’s what I would have done differently.”

Ashton opened his mouth to argue, to tell Laudna she was wrong—that she was more like him than she thought. But one look at her expression and Ashton couldn’t find the words. This was where they diverged, where the line of distinction pulled them apart. Laudna knew her limitations, and Ashton refused to acknowledge his. She was figuring out how to be cared for, and Ashton assumed they were incapable of being loved in any way that mattered.

Ashton had never been cared for the way they wanted to be. No one ever stuck around long enough to do so. They didn't have a framework for accepting the simple fact that these assholes cared about him. So instead, Ashton held them at arms length and convinced himself he was unlovable—because it was easier to stay broken than it was to heal after decades of hurt.

He looked at Laudna across the room and stayed silent.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Laudna said, voice low and acidic. She stalked forward, approaching Ashton for the first time so she could glare down at them.

“How many more times are you going to shatter before you’re satisfied?”

Ashton stared up at her ink-colored eyes and smirked, small and self-deprecating.

“What if I said I’ll never be satisfied?”

Laudna’s face twisted, and for a long moment, Ashton thought she might hit them. But at the end of that moment, she took a step back and worked her jaw.

“If that’s the case,” she said, slow and measured. “Then don’t ask us to save you next time.”

Laudna turned away and went for the door. Ashton didn’t know how to call her back. This was expected, watching someone reach the threshold of how much they could care about him and his brokenness. It hurt more than he expected it to, because it was Laudna. They were supposed to be broken in the same ways. But Ashton never let his wounds heal, and Laudna had.

She opened the door and stopped halfway out.

“Apologize to Fearne,” Laudna said over her shoulder. "Or you're getting kicked again."

She started to shut the door behind her, and Ashton couldn't take it anymore.

"Fearne told me she didn't want it."

Laudna paused, turning back to look at him over her shoulder. Her brow was furrowed, but Ashton latched onto the fact that she was listening.

"I asked her if she wanted the shard, and she said that she thought it was meant for me," Ashton placed their lava rock hand over their chest and exhaled, weary. "Yes, I made her lie to all of you, and I scared her. But I don't regret it. I chose this."

Ashton lifted his new arm and stared at it, a mix of emotions swirling unpleasantly in his chest.

"I chose this. For once in my fucking life, I got to choose how I broke." Ashton's eyes slid from their fingers to Laudna's face. He wasn't sure what he was looking to find there, but he was desperate for someone—for her—to understand. "I did this."

Laudna didn't move for a long few moments. Ashton wondered if they really had exceeded the limits of Laudna's patience, if this was it. But then she sighed, long and weary, and shut the door. She walked over to Ashton and sat down on the bed beside them, reaching out for his new arm and hesitating, her fingers hovering over the lava rock. Ashton made no move to close the distance, waiting for Laudna to make that choice.

Eventually, she slid her fingers around Ashton's wrist, seeming surprised when the rock didn't immediately burn her.

"Does it still hurt?" Laudna asked, her voice warbled with emotion. Ashton was surprised at the sudden turned, but then realized he probably shouldn't be. He knew that she cared.

"You mean everything?" Ashton asked. Laudna nodded, her eyes stuck on his arm. "Not really, but I think it's because the new arm is so overwhelmed it's numb. Might change later."

"I..." Laudna paused, breath stuck audibly before she pushed out a heavy breath. "I didn't mean it, what I said. We're always going to try and save you—save each other. Unless you ask us not to. Even then, we'll probably fight you on it."

"I kind of deserved all that," Ashton laughed, curling his fingers again. "I could tell you were all pissed at me."

"We want to support you, Ashton," Laudna said with emphasis. "We know how important this is to you, figuring out who you are. But you have to understand how scary that was, and how much it hurt to realize you lied to us. Yes, we would have tried to stop you from doing something so reckless. But maybe we could have found another way, one that wouldn't have put your life at so much risk. You said yourself that we're supposed to be a family, right? So, include us. We want to help you."

Ashton clenched their jaw, trying to find the words to tell Laudna that the last time they had a family, it was the Nobodies. And they all knew how that had ended. As much as Ashton wanted a family again, it was terrifying.

"Ashton," Laudna said, tone firm. He looked up at her, surprised that his eyes were misty.

"We care about you. You know that, right?"

Ashton stared at her, and she held his gaze in return, unflinching. He wasn't sure how to accept this, but he knew better than to turn her away.

"Yeah," Ashton said, voice wobbling. "I do."

[jimblejamblewritings]

The Dragon Heir | part 3.

Summary: What happens when King Viserys' only current heir is a choice between his twin daughters? The realm will not accept a woman but you have no care for what the realm thinks it won't accept.

Warnings: it's the game of thrones realm, and obviously incest comes with the Targaryen package but it still deserves a second warning

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x black!reader, Daemon Targaryen x targaryen!reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

A/N: Italics dialogue is them speaking in High Valyrian

You gladly went to the Godswood to see Alicent after stopping by the kitchen for some breakfast for the two of you. She would be excited to hear of your adventure. You entered the Godswood, happy to see Alicent. Her expression didn’t match yours. You lowered your extended hand of bread. 

“What did you do?” she asked you. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“My father has made some worrying allegations about you.” She continued when you were still confused. “Were you with your uncle last night?” 

“Oh, yes. I was just about to tell you of it. Daemon showed Rhaenyra and I the city.”

“Rhaenyra was with you?” 

“Yes. It was thrilling. Well, except for the pleasure house.” 

“So you were there?” 

“Unfortunately. I could have done without seeing that part of the ci— I’m sorry, did you say worrying allegations? What, that we left the castle? Who hasn’t done that before? And it was my fir—” 

“That you fucked Daemon in a pleasure house.” 

The bread dropped from your hand. “How dare you accuse me something so serious? Do you know what that could do to me?” 

“Do you know what you’ve done to yourself?” 

You got closer to her. “Do you want me to bend over right here and prove to you that I’m a virgin? Would that make you happy? Debasing your Princess even further. How could you even believe such gossip?” 

“My father is not a gossip.”��

“Then he has been misled, I don’t care. But it was impossible for him to witness such a thing.” 

“Why is that?” 

“Because it didn’t happen!” 

“He was told th—”

“Told? So someone made these claims and your father gladly believed them? You believed them?” 

“I only want to help you, Laelara.” 

“By lying about me? Letting your father lie about me? Alright, yes, maybe it was a mistake to follow him into a brothel but neither Rhaenyra or I ever expected to go there. I could never get home without my escort so we followed him. Is it a crime to follow someone?” 

“So you did not?” 

“Must I truly refute that? Where is my father?” 

You wiped at tears as you started to leave the Godswood. Alicent was on your heels, watching every move. Her face wrinkled when a maester stopped you to give you a tea they freshly prepared. You took the mug and marched straight to your father’s chamber. He jumped when you threw open the doors, walking right up to your father. You threw the cup down, shattering it. 

“How dare you?” 

“Laelara…” 

“No! How dare you listen to that snake and let him accuse me of losing my virtue instead of coming to me first. I confided in Daemon that I was scared about Rhaenyra’s marriage and my eventual own. He took us to a whorehouse so I could watch freaks and forget my concerns for a single night. I saw a show to get over you murdering my mother! How could you think he would do that me, that I would do that to myself knowing the consequences?” 

Viserys bowed his head. “I never doubted you would spoil your virtue before marriage. And I already asked Daemon. He was the most serious I’d ever seen him in his life as he told me the truth.” 

“Then why would give me a tea?” 

“It wasn’t meant for you,” he whispered. “The castle will talk whether they believe you or not. I’ve already discussed it with Rhaenyra. If the rumor spreads past us, you cannot be suspected. Otto only heard word of a princess, not the princess. The Grand Maester must have given the task to someone else.” 

“Rhaenyra would never do such a thing.” 

“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter. Everything is about perception and this is the choice I’m making. Daemon will be gone for a while and your sister is getting married before the season’s end. If I don’t, people will begin to realize your fertility complications aren’t real. And they will think it’s because you wanted freedom to fuck anyone. This is the only way to see the end of this matter.” 

“You know what needs to be done about who started these lies, don’t you?” 

You didn’t wait for your father’s response, simply leaving instead. Alicent tried to hug you, apologizing for the doubt and stress. You barely patted her back. It was easier to drop the matter than stay mad. Besides, her father was being fired. You had something to celebrate. 

A part of you felt bad that it was at the expense of your sister who confessed in private to you that she did, in fact, have sex with Ser Criston. You didn’t feel as bad after hearing that but you still felt strange as you family traveled to Driftmark. Rhaenyra was to marry Laenor Velaryon. You remembered the last time you visited your cousin. You were pretty sure he had an affinity for men. 

Although, you supposed that if he did it would make him more tolerable to Rhaenyra’s idea of sleeping with other people. Maybe he was the best option for everyone. He and Rhaenyra got along well enough. The two of them had been at the beach all day with each other. 

At least that was what you were told. You weren’t with them. You were home in the Keep. You were happy to be away from everyone for a little bit. After what you were accused of, you were still bothered. Not at the notion of Daemon but at the notion of what you were thought to have done. 

Even though she apologized, Alicent was distant. You figured as much. Her father did get fired. He was at fault but you expected her to still feel some sort of way. However, being at the Keep because you were sick was not how you wanted to be away from everyone.

You had been confined to your room by the Septa and brought tea every few hours. From your room, you could see Alicent in the Godswood. She was talking to that one man with the bad foot. It took you a minute to remember Larys Strong’s name. 

Eventually, looking at Larys and Alicent chat became boring. You went back to your bed and waited for another raven from your family. Another raven never came. Your family came back with good news. Good news and the very fast notion of a wedding. It was going to be a seven-day feast. Despite the excitement and happiness, Alicent was still a bit cold. Every time you tried to talk with Ser Criston, she was watching. 

You just needed a moment alone with your sister’s lover. Everyone needed to be on the same page but the knight seemed to avoid you like the plague. You didn’t get a moment alone with Criston before the first day of the wedding celebrations. You sat at the family table in the back of the hall, bored out of your mind. 

Suitors kept congratulating Rhaenyra on her marriage all while looking at you. It wasn’t going to happen. It was enjoyable to see Laenor and Rhaenyra get along. The plan was brilliant and Laenor was all for it. You gladly switched seats so he could be closer to Rhaenyra and you could speak to his lover, Joffrey. He gave you a smile. 

“Do you see that man over there?” You pointed him towards Ser Criston’s direction. 

“Rhaenyra’s?” he whispered. 

You nodded. If you couldn’t talk to Ser Criston then maybe Joffrey could. When the dancing started, he could go talk to the knight. Joffrey left the table when Daemon appeared. You both didn’t look at each other, choosing to reach for cups instead. It was almost time for the celebration. Your father stood up to start the welcome speech. 

“...with House Targaryen and Hous—” 

You followed your father’s gaze, trying to figure out why he stopped. Alicent was announced. Your eyes squinted at her choice of gown. Since she joined with your House there was one color Alicent never really wore anymore. But there she was, walking down the steps in a gown of green. The color of the Hightower beacon when their banners go to war.

She didn’t tear her gaze away from you. You didn’t know what happened this time. But you were done with the misunderstandings, the lack of respect, and the confusion. If Alicent Hightower wanted a war, you would give her one. 

Viserys’ speech ended, signalling the start of the dance. Laenor and Rhaenyra were to dance first because it was their wedding. Since you were the heir, you were to dance second. Naturally, you took Joffrey as your partner. He left you the minute others started to dance so he could find Ser Criston. You looked around in pursuit of a different partner. Daemon stopped dancing with Laena Velaryon to dance with you. While you smiled, he just looked somber. 

“Causing you discomfort was not my intention.” 

“I never suspected such, Daemon.” 

The two of you talked and danced as if no one else existed. He was a very good dancer, light on his feet. You were actually enjoying yourself. Daemon put his hands on your waist to lift you for the jump. You landed on the ground without a sound at all. 

“I’m going to marry Lady Laena,” Daemon said. 

“That is good, Uncle. I would apologize for Lady Rhea’s death but we both know your feelings. Is Laena for love or political arrangement?” 

“We all must play politics if you are to marry for love.” 

“You would help me, Daemon?” 

“Why does everyone seem to doubt how much I care for my family? I kneeled to you, my Queen. I reluctantly kneel to my brother despite his refusal to make me his Hand. I suggested the marriage to Laenor for my niece’s sake, knowing the boy’s nature. I’d do anything for you all.” 

“I hope to meet a man like you someday.” 

“I will pray for quicker than someday.” 

“Do you think I can actually fi—” 

You were pushed into Daemon, hands squished between his chest and your body. He was quick to protect you. Everyone was moving away from a fight happening in the middle of the dance floor. You gasped when you turned around. Ser Criston was beating Joffrey. 

“No, Laenor, don’t,” you said a moment too late after you cousin was backhanded by Ser Criston. 

You screamed as some of the crowd ran. Daemon picked you up, handing you to Ser Harwin Strong who carried you out of the crowd like you were merely a sack of potatoes. At least you knew his last name rang true. No one could stop Criston as he continued to beat Joffrey until he was dead. 

The feast was called off. The celebration wasn’t happening anymore. Rhaenyra and Laenor got married that night with only the family to witness it. You apologized over and over again to Laenor, knowing how much it hurt to witness a loved one die. 

The years went by, relatively calmly. Laenor was around enough to keep up appearances. Rhaenyra had children to act as potential heirs. Daemon was watching over Pentos with Laena and their two daughters. You… You had no husband, still. You had to admit that with the birth of Alicent’s third child, Aemond, you stopped being so excited in your search.

It became something that was always pushed off for other duties. You couldn’t think much about that now. You were in the room with Rhaenyra as she gave birth to her third child. After your mother, you refused to leave your sister alone for all of her births. The entire castle joked that for roughly nine months you were more midwife than future queen. 

You sighed as you handed a freshly cleaned baby to your sister. “It’s a good thing I am heir.” 

Rhaenyra hung her head down. That had become a code. Once again, the fine hair on the baby’s head was black instead of white. Just like Jacaerys and Lucerys. You knew that your sister and Laenor had tried to have a single child to keep up appearance but it never worked. You rolled your eyes when your cousin stepped into the room. 

“Where are you going, Princess?” he asked as you took off your apron and readied yourself to leave. 

“To prepare a tour for myself since you two seem so hellbent on m— I’m going on a walk, Laenor. I just want fresh air. This was Rhae’s longest birth. Besides, Jace and Luke picked a dragon’s egg for the baby. I should check it for them.” 

You met your nephews coming back from the dragon pit. They smiled when you nodded in approval at their choice. You patted your nephews’ heads. 

“Go give it to your baby brother and then go play with your uncles. Aegon an—” 

“We know, Aunt Laelara. Aegon already told us to go back to the dragon pit.” 

You stopped them before they could fully run off. “Boys, be sensitive. Aemond is still struggling with dragons.” 

“What is the issue? You don’t have a dragon and it does not bother you.”

“We are all born different, Luke. It does not bother me but it might bother him. Just be sensitive.” 

They reluctantly agreed and ran off. You prayed to the Old Gods and New that your children wouldn’t be nearly as crazy as those two boys. But still, you loved your nephews. The same way you loved your cousins turned nieces since Laenor was married to Rhaenyra. You’d have to write to Laena and Daemon. Laena was due to give birth any day now. Just as you had sent a congratulatory letter and egg with the births of Baela and Rhaena, you needed to send another for the new baby. 

~~

Laena Targaryen was not having an easy birth. Daemon was in the room, watching everything with concern. The midwives had turned Laena on all fours like he suggested. It did aid in the process but it was still difficult. He might not have loved Laena but Daemon did care for her. Seeing her in pain brought him no bit of comfort. 

Daemon remembered the book. You had sent the midwife book with the first birth but it wasn’t necessary. Rhaena and Baela had no complications. He must have put the book somewhere. Perhaps the library. He brushed off the main physician coming to talk to him so he could go find that dumb book. Daemon paused seeing Rhaena and Baela at the doorway. He took both of their shoulders. 

“You girls shouldn’t be seeing this. Bed, let’s go. It’ll be fine in the morning.” 

Daemon made sure they were in their rooms before going to get the book. His eyes widened when he returned. Where was Laena?

(part 4)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

[swiftie-erin]

Here's my first-listen review of TTPD and TTPD: The Anthology!

disclaimer: i broke down the rankings per album because trying to do them all together would've been a hell of a journey and would've taken more than one day / been more than just a "first listen." and per usual, take the songs at the bottom with a grain of salt because all of them are so close and even the ones at the bottom feel like they should be in the top ten

Overall review: wow, this was a lot to process. I keep trying to think about whether I like TTPD or TTPD: The Anthology better, but honestly I can't choose. so much heart-wrenching pain, such beautiful lyrics, and incredible reflections on love, loss, inner turmoil, what-ifs, and using writing as an outlet. this is absolutely going to be on repeat through spring and summer!

1. Fortnight - lowkey would've loved more Post Malone on this song but this is one of my faves!!

2. TTPD - I love the storytelling and I love the way Taylor says "TTPD" and "nofuckingbody" hehe

3. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - the imagery?? "queen of sand castles he destroys"??? omg this is one of my faves.

4. Down Bad - Love this song sonically and love hearing Taylor say fuck LOL. this is my fave song i think!

5. So Long, London - 🥺🥺 "i'm pissed off that you let me give you all that youth for free" gives me goosebumps, i love this song

6. But Daddy I Love Him - tbh good for you taylor, get em. your life is your own and only you get to tell yourself what you can or can't do, or who you can or can't love!

7. Fresh Out the Slammer - the lyrics are so good and the bridge transition is so beautiful!!!

8. Florida!!! - same bbg, we all need a dose of escapism once in a while (also i love the 🍃 mention hehe). fuck me up florida!!!

9. Guilty as Sin? - this is the song I pre-claimed and tbh it does not disappoint at all!

10. Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - the guitar, so good omg. the emotion in taylor's voice is raw and the female rage is palpable, love this song.

11. I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - love the ending and love the chorus!!

12. loml - ouchie. the lyricism and that last chorus, wow.

13. I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - we love a good depressive pop song!! "all of the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting 'more!'" and the click track!!

14. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - men ain't shit, taylor. what'd he do? I'll deliver your message LET ME AT EM-

15. The Alchemy - i'm so glad taylor is in a better place 🥹 it truly gives "karma is the guy on the chiefs coming straight home to me"

16. Clara Bow - such a beautiful song sonically, shows both the hope and hardships of wanting to be in the spotlight

17. The Black Dog - the second verse, OUCHIE. the bridge? i've died. i love this song more than i expected to.

18. imgonnagetyouback - i love the chorus and actually the entire song tbh

19. The Albatross - i'm very intrigued with the tale we're being told. people truly will read something about you, believe it, then crucify you for it.

20. Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus - such a beautiful, sad song. what-ifs (especially for people like taylor and i who have anxiety) can be so, so much more heart-wrenching than knowing

21. How Did It End? - the lyrics. the sound. everything unspoken. how everyone wants to know what happened but she's not even sure herself.

22. So High School - so goddamn cute!!! i couldn't be happier that taylor is happy and thriving with trav 🥹🫶

23. I Hate It Here - "when they found a better planet, only the gentle survived" BESTIE i wish. i'm there right with you, girl. the world is awful and living in your mind often is easier and better. also, i too read the secret garden as a child hehe

24. thanK you alMee - omg, this song. taylor is truly coming to terms with what gave her scars and acknowledging it and moving forward. i'm so fuckin proud of her.

25. I Look In People's Windows - "i'm afflicted by the not knowing" ugh me too girlie. the anxiety, the contemplation, the fantasies; i'm glad neither of us are alone in knowing these feelings all too well

26. The Prophecy - i love this song 🥺 it's one of my faves. it reminds me of Foolish One, it's so desperate and hopeful at the same time.

27. Cassandra - i'm a greek/roman history slut so i love this already. i love the intertwined story that she creates, it's powerful.

28. Peter - bruh this song makes me want to cry. Betty has turned off her porch light 🥺

29. The Bolter - I love the way this song sounds! the first chorus sets the stage so well and the chorus is lowkey catchy

30. Robin - precious lyrics about keeping children innocent so they can enjoy their childhood while they have it 💗

31. The Manuscript - as a poet and writer myself, i relate to this song so much. writing truly is an outlet for processing emotions and at the end of it, all of those feelings are part of the writing and no longer yours. you're free.

[zero-insignificance]

DND Recap: The Last Noise Complaint

Cast includes: Rose the DM, Alfie (yours truly), Rayna, Patrick, Truk, and Bob (spilt custody between yours truly and Rose)

At the beginning of the session, Patrick's player makes this:

So, the session opens up with Truk waking up in his room, chained to his bed. He can hear the clattering of armor hitting the floor cuz Alfie has the zoomies from a realization. Patrick has a regular sized whoopee cushion marked "Extra Strength" He leaves it on the throne.

We were all given one objective: Be as loud as possible.

Truk tries to wrap the chains tight around his wrist and break them. Rose: Roll a strength check. Truk's player: *rolls* Fuck. 8? Rose: ... Patrick's player: Say goodbye to your wrist. Rose: You do break free of the chain. Truk's player: Really? Rose: Because your wrist is broken, and it just slinks out of it. Truk: *lets of a 100-decibel scream* Patrick: *slides a foot into Truk's room and slingshots his body into it* Somewhere in the castle you just hear the clattering of a bunch of armor. Patrick: Sup. Truk just snaps the bone back into place. Rose: You hear a loud grumble. Truk: OH FUCK- Help me get the chains off! Patrick: Don't worry *pulls out an eraser* I HAVE AN ERASER. Patrick's player: He starts erasing the chains Me: Like doodle bob. Truk: *panics in Russian* NO DON'T ERASE MY HAND-

There's something about Alfonse that nobody in the party knows. Not even Mark knows. Alfie is a trans man. Alfie has realized that he doesn't need hormone therapy. He doesn't need bottom surgery. He already got top surgery. He can shapeshift on a full biological level.

He is tracking down Bob cuz Bob is a he/they femboy and would probably be the only one who understands.

Alfie finds Bob in the dining hall and climbs up his chest, gripping onto his shoulders and is vibrating from excitement.

Bob: Hello, my fine feathered friend! What has you all like this? Alfie: You don't understand, Bob. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! Bob: What? What is it? Alfie: I don't need to take testosterone shots anymore! Bob: Testosterone shots? Alfie: I'M TRANS. I'M A TRANS MAN. Bob: *mouth drops open* You're trans? What are you gonna do? Alfie: Shapeshift on a full biological level~

And Alfie snaps his fingers and lets himself fall down to the ground and lets out a loud squeal of happiness.

Rose: Is this squeal high enough to break glass? Me: Definitely. Rose: Every single one of the wine glasses in the dining hall shatters. Bob: *british* OH FUCK- Truk and Patrick hear a loud squeal. Rose: You hear a loud growl. Alfie sits up and says "We should probably free Truk." And Bob and Alfie head off to free Truk

Rose: Can Alfie get rid of his top surgery scars? Me: Yes, but he thinks they're pretty. They manifest as black through his feathers, and they look like black lightening. Rose: Oooo!

Back with Truk and Patrick:

Truk: OH NO- *rips through the chains on his legs* Alfie walks in looking very chipper. Alfie: Oh. You're already free. Truk: WE HAVE TO GO! Alfie: What? Why? Rose you hear a loud annoyed but distant voice. Voice: How... many times. Do I have to tell you. TO KEEP THE NOISE DOWN? Zariel: Oh no, which one of you woke up Terry? Alfie: Who? Zariel: Terry. The dragon.

Truk runs outside and shouts to the mountain. Truk: I'm sorry! Alfie: I would also like to apologize but in my defense, I only just now realized that I don't need to seek out gender affirming care! Terry: I've had enough of you bipeds being so annoying. Truk: Your fight is with us! Terry basically goes: I DON'T FUCKIN CARE. Truk: Maybe you shouldn't be living next to a CAPITOL CITY. Alfie: How long have you lived here? You could move. Terry: I was here before the kingdom was here. Why should I leave? Truk: Oh. That makes sense. Patrick: Did you not make your presence known? Terry: .... I'm torching this kingdom.

The top of that mountain rumbles and a massive fucking dragon reveals itself as the snow covering it shifts.

It's bigger than the Cologne Cathedral. "I am going to kill you all."

Patrick has a look of terror spreading over his face. This is an Ancient Death Bringer Dragon. Patrick is allowed to tell us each one thing about the dragon. It can frighten and you need an immunity to cold damage to not take cold damage. A resistance won't cut it.

Bob skips towards us with his staff in hand. "Wait for me! I don't want you guys to get killed!" For the session I am playing Bob and Alfie in this fight.

Truk summons Brick. Truk: Dad. I'm going to ask you something. It's going to be a big ask. Brick: Yes? Truk: Can you teleport the dragon somewhere else? Brick: I can't use it on creatures of the void. Alfie: Interesting. Truk: Can you teleport us to the dragon? Brick: *yoinks and plops us under the dragon*

We are under the dragon who is currently on route to the Capitol of Russia. Alfie: OVER HERE! Truk: DOWN HERE YOU DUSTY BITCH! Terry: *evil laugh*

And Terry opens his mouth and what looks like a super nova comes out.

Everyone makes a dex save. Bob succeeds, Truk did terribly. Patrick and Alfie failed. Alfie uses shield as a reaction. Truk was going to use shield of faith but Patrick steps in front of him and uses shield to protect him and for a brief moment he looks like the Goliath we saw in his flashback.

The damage is halved for everyone.

Rene pops out of the nap sack and goes; "WHAT THE FUCK?"

Then the dragon lands before us.

"Roll Initiative."

Ancient Death Bringer Dragon 25 Patrick 23 Rene 21 Bob 15 Alfie 14 Truk 6

The way our campaign works is that we are allowed to go in whatever order we want to strategize the best.

Patrick: Can I talk with my compatriots? Terry: Sure. I'm going to kill you so might as well let you say your farewells. Alfie: *pulls out Hank the orb* Hank? Hank: What is it? Alfie: What's the weakness of this dragon? Hank: It's undead. Alfie: So... Radiant damage? Hank: Radiant damage. See you around! Rose: The blue color of the orb fades. Hank has dipped. Alfie: You better come back when I survive this. Bob: Hank is a coward, but he'll be back.

The dragon makes an attack on Truk, nipping him with his maw.

Patrick sends of a guiding bolt giving Truk advantage on his next attack. Truk cast a divine spell I forgot about. Rene: Does a double attack with her axes. Alfonse sends of a mind spike and fires two angelic steel feathers. Bob fires a witch bolt.

We did 715 damage on our first turns.

This pisses off the dragon who pulls out a massive sword saying that it's time to go full Dark souls on us.

Alfie: That's a cool sword! Who made it?

The Dragon doesn't answer us. Just points the sword at his chest and drives it into his chest.

And Patrick just shouts "RUN." and Alfie tries to grab on to everyone and teleport us away, but it doesn't work. There is a dispel magic field.

We might be #screwed.

Truk tries to call on Brick to teleport his friends out of here but there is no response.

Patrick's Player: Can I parry the nuke? Rose: You need to get 3 nat 20s in a row. Patrick: *rolls* Fuck. Me: Can Alfie try parrying the nuke? Rose: Sure. Me: *sound of rolling dice* Guys... Everyone: *Assumes we're screwed* Me: Guys. Truk's player: What is it? Me: I will never be this lucky again. Rose: What? Me: *still shocked* I got triple 20s. Rose: *shook* I need proof.

Rose: You've parried the nuke. But only for yourself. I need all other characters to roll Constitution, Wisdom, and Dexterity saving throws. Rayna is the only one who succeeds all the saves.

Alfie and Rayna are the only ones left standing.

218 points of damage for those who failed.

Truk drops to zero, but pops back up to one through resilience.

Patrick is dead.

Bob had exactly 219 hit points left so he is down to 1 hp.

Truk gets up, uses revivify and a bunch of lay on hands to bring Patrick back. Truk uses one lay on hands on himself.

Bob is in rough shape. He needs a healing potion. Rayna tosses Alfie one and Patrick uses spell I can't remember to make it more effective healing 36 points of damage.

Everyone is alive, somehow.

We see the dragon's body disintegrate into dust and be blown away by the wind revealing a single egg.

Alfie goes full brood mode brushing off the fact that he just experienced something that would resurface a bunch of traumas.

This egg is the size of a minivan, and Alfonse, who is 5'7" is on top of it, wrapping his wings around it in bird mode and Rayna has wrapped her tail around it. They are keeping it warm

Truk is like "We're not keeping it" and Alfie is like "Yes we are. I am father now." and Rayna gets out this massive blanket/robe made of animal furs and tosses it over Alfie and the egg covering them and Truk is like "it's a dragon egg!" and Alfie is like "I want to give it a chance to live. I am dad. It's done nothing wrong." cuz Alfie is the dad friend. He was meant to be a father. And Truk is like "You won't be able to keep it warm enough!" and Azathoth is like "Actually dude, that egg is close to hatching." and Alfie is like "Azathoth, you're going to be a great great grandpa." And Azathoth is just casually looking through time and is like "But I already am." cuz he's seeing into the future and can see Alfie's future kids and Alfie's like "Azathoth that hasn't happened yet."

Bob: *runs up to Alfie beaming* Alfie! Alfie! I helped! Alfie: *patting him on the head* That you did! I'm proud of you!

Bob has a smile that lights up a room.

Truk is trying to get into contact with Brick, but Brick isn't responding. So, he projects his mind and looks through Brick's eyes and he sees a face that looks like his own. But cruel. The room is covered in symbols meant to trap and contain a God. "Someone has kidnapped the God of Gods."

And Brick lets out a loud howl of rage.

It shakes what is left of the mountain (there isn't much of a mountain now, it got fockin' leveled by the nuke).

They start the travel back the Capitol city of Russia which is 5 miles away.

We FINALLY leveled up to 14. This campaign started in January. We've been level 13 since February. Rene Evolved to this

Lu had a gay panic cuz she taller now. Her mouth dropped open and she was like "That's my wife"

Alfonse is floating on his back with the dragon egg.

Alfie: Truk I can heal you a bit? Truk: *at 15 hit points* I'm fine. Alfie: Bullshit. I'm going to heal you *goes to do a medicine check* Truk: NO *starts booking it* Rayna: *has dash speed of 80* Nope *tackles him* Truk: Ow.... Alfie: *floats on over and gives Truk a double boop healing 16 damage* Bob: Can I have a boop? Alfie: Of course! *boops healing 8 damage*

At some point Alfonse mentions that he doesn't like women. Only men and enbies and it starts raining. Truk: The gods of gods like you. Alfie: I'd hope so. Truk: I mean like like. Alfie: *goes pale* You mean... like like? In that way? Truk: *nods* Alfie: *goes over to a bush and hurls in taken demiromantic asexual* Somewhere in the pantheon of pantheons there is a Goddess that really wanted a chance with Alfie.

Zariel shows up and is probably concussed cuz she's very out of it. Alfie: Zariel, are you concussed? Zariel: ... yes ... Alfie: Why are you out and about with a concussion? Zariel: I answer to no boy. Sea Biscuit: *concerned in British horse bf* There you are! I was so worried! *Helps Zariel onto his back* Truk: Zariel. Someone has kidnapped my father. He looks like me. Zariel: That would be Thorzal. He's the banished prince. He did the spell that brought Betty White Truk: WHAT? I have another half sibling??? Zariel: On your mom's side. He was banished. Truk: He kidnapped Brick. Zariel: what?

They make it back to the castle and Alfie is like "I need all the pillows and blankets." cuz he's in nesting mode. He gets so many pillows and blankets and makes a nest which Rene helps with.

Truk heads to bed. Truk has a package from Thorzal “See you soon, brother.” and there are crumbles of orange brick in the box.

[factorydefaultlu]

Hiii

could you write to dark yandere daemon❤ aemond❤ aegon❤ let them know that her dear and beloved wife is drinking moon tea to avoid getting pregnant 😖❤ thank you ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ take care 🐞🐞🐞

Hiii

Conent warning: Dark Themes.

Aemond was ecstatic about his betrothel to his wife. He could finally keep what was his to himself.

You however were less than pleased. You knew your days of walking the castle and city alone were over. He would hardly leave your side, and when he did you were locked away tightly in your shared chambers.

Aemond bedded you often, focusing all his attention on you and basking in the sounds you made just for him.

A baby would only hold you to him tighter. You knew you could never bare him a child, or else your last hope of freedom would be stripped away.

You passed a note to a servant, weeks after your marriage. You had asked her to discreetly bring you moon tea once a week.

Aemond luckily did not notice this, the tea was creatively placed on the platter with the rest of the ensemble everytime. You always knew what cup was yours and you were quick to grab it everytime.

Unfortunately for you, the tea arrived early one night. You had just sunk yourself into the bath when you heard glass shattering.

You sat up quickly, and Aemond came storming into the bathroom. He was seething with rage.

"Why? Why would you poison yourself with that shit?!" the prince grabbed your arm and pulled you from the bath.

You gasped at his rough tug and how the cold air hit your wet body. Aemond began dragging you to the bedroom.

"I'm going to put a baby in you and you will give me a son."

Aegon knew he wasn't the best husband, so why would he want to add a child in the mix. He was perfectly happy being with his wife, fucking her as much as he wanted and being completely childless.

Or so he thought.

There was hardly a night when he didn't fuck you, so why was your belly not swelling? Were you infertile? Was he infertile?

No he can't be many servant girls had been impregnated by him, they always drank moon tea to get rid of it though.

Moon tea.

Aegon was mad, did his wife think him so unfit to be a father that she'd terminate her pregnancies without even consulting him?

He rushed to his chambers, startling his wife. "What is it you need?" you ask

"You. You have been drinking moon tea haven't you." he was breathless.

"Yes, you don't want children."

"You never asked me."

"I didn't know I had to."

Aegon would grab your jaw tightly, and drug you into a kiss.

"You're having my baby, I'll make sure of it."

You were married to Daemon on an arrangement. A marriage of politics and not love.

He still bedded you when he would come back from his battles and political meetings.

You were glad he was gone for weeks at a time, it was easy to drink the moon tea and let it take affect.

This did not slip Daemon's mind however. He noticed that even when he would stay with her for months, fucking her nightly, that she never swelled.

Daemon immediately knew what was going on.

"Do you think I'm a bad man?"

He asked you one night while laying in bed.

"No, why would you ask that?"

"Do you think I'm deserving of a child?" he looked at you sternly.

"Of course, where is this coming from?"

"Why is it that you deprive me of one then?" he didn't answer you, continuing his interrogation.

You finally understood what he meant.

"You're never around, the child would never truly know their father." you felt guilty telling him this.

"Then I will stay, I won't ever leave your side unless I absolutely have to. I want you to have my children, and I want those children to know me and love me as much as they love you."

Daemon would start kissing at your neck. You smiled at his adament promise.

"Let's make that baby then."

[pawsthec]

Mother figure

Can you imagine a maid being motherly to the daughters and they just kind of accept it?

Bela gets someone who she can gossip about her sisters with and confide in when pressures are a little too much.

Cassandra gets someone who'll listen to her ramble about killing and torture while also asking questions because she is genuinely interested.

Daniela gets a reading buddy who helps her play pranks on the maids and get away with it.

Then, one day, a group of very well trained hunters enters the castle and manage to corner the girls in the dining room before shattering the windows. This leaves the girls struggling to fight back and slowly breaking apart when they're hit.

That's until a gun is knocked out of a hunters hands and lands at the feet of the maid who is currently staring wondering how to help. When she picks it a hunter is going for the kill but a gunshot rings out as a hunter is shot in the heart.

Maid: *angrily staring at the them* get the fuck away from my girls!

Girls: *happy but also worried for their favourite maid*

Hunters: *confused anger*

So, once there is only one left thanks to team work the just looks him in the eyes and is just like:

Maid: we killed your little group, do you really think my girls won't kill you?

Hunter: *lowers gun and looks at the daughters confused* I thought Lady Dimitrescu was your mother?

Daniela: *swarms over to maid and picks her up to hug her* yeah, well now we have two!

Hunter: *watching* I'm sorry for what I tried to do, just kill me

Cassandra: with pleasure. Mother dearest, how should I do this?

Maid: stab through the chest, he's clearly guilty, there's no need for torture

Bela: I quiet like the sound of calling you Mother but we need a different name

Maid: mam?

Daniela: perfect!

Once word gets round to Lady D that evening of what happens she goes to find one of her daughters and looks everywhere before going to the library.

She finds the maid sat on the couch led down with Bela behind her, Daniela on her stomach and Cassandra lounging across the top of the couch while holding the maids hand. They're all fast asleep.

Lady D just walks over to them before giving the girls kisses on the foreheads, she pulls back and looks at the maid.

Alcina: I am aware that you can't hear me, but I need to get this off of my chest. Thank you for saving them today, Mother Miranda knows what would of happened if you hadn't of been there, I truly appreciate it. I heard that they've taken to calling you mam now. Cute. I've always felt that they could use another parental figure as my knowledge only reaches so far in terms of regular human behaviours. I am very glad that it is you that they have chosen; you have caught my eye in many ways than one. With this new development in your relationship with my daughters, or ours should I now say, I hope to start a positive one with you if you will allow me to. However, I must warn you about my temper, I can get very heated. I must go, I am expecting a call from Mother Miranda, I hope to see you at dinner, goodbye

Alcina goes to leave through the library doors when she hears the almost silent voice of the maid.

Maid: you would have done the same

When Alci turns around she finds the maids eyes still closed but now there's a smoke on her face, she smiles herself before leaving with happiness flowing through her.

[dracosathenaeum]

Great Love Story | D.M.

Summary: Half requested by @dray-cookies !! You and Draco were the couple everyone expected to never break up, so why were you watching Draco look at Pansy the way he use to look at you? As if she were his world.

Warnings: smut, food, violence and swearing

Word Count: 2,241

#A/N: AU, sometime in 7th year. I don't want to solidify any details in case I ever decide to write a part 2

You watched with green in your eyes as Draco brushed Pansy’s soft strands of hair from her face before bringing his hand to rest back on the small of her back. You could still feel the weight of his hand on your back, warm and reassuring. It was almost as if you were seeing the whole scene from an outside perspective, that Pansy wasn’t real, and it was you there.

But you weren’t.

Pansy was sat in what had been your seat just the month before. You heard the whispers that followed you down every hallway and into each room, but you were just as in the dark as they were. “They would’ve never lasted” from bitter Slytherins, or “He seemed happy, they both did I wonder what went wrong.” You had wondered the same thing.

You had never thought you’d break up; you were sure you would make it til the end, that he was the one for you. Call it naïve but you had known each other longer than anyone else; you had been inseparable despite being in different houses and everyone knew how Slytherins felt about interhouse relations. He had quite literally brought you out of your shell and gave you confidence you might’ve never found yourself.

It was only natural that the two of you started dating; natural that one of those long nights studying and just enjoying each other’s company had ended in rushed and desperate kisses; as if you didn’t have all the time in the world. The school had practically fallen over their own feet talking about the two of you. You were the couple that were the centre of attention at the yule ball, the textbook couple that all others compared to, the couple that no one had ever expected to break up.

Yet it happened. 

Sneaking into Draco’s room like you had done so countless times before, you hadn’t expected for him to break up with you. No warnings. No explanation.

You had left his room in a daze; your feet bringing you back to your dorm room through muscle memory alone. You allowed yourself to collapse into your friends arms the second you stepped into the room, watched as theirs mirrored the shock yours contained.  

Everything had been perfect as far as you knew. You were both so happy or so you had thought. Since then he had avoided you at all costs, and the times you did see him, he’d wouldn’t even spare you a glance before turning in the other direction.

//

Draco was looking at Pansy with stars in his eyes, and of course he would. She was everything he could ever want. Her hair that always fell perfectly around her face, never owing a bad hair day; her make up that was light because she never needed to cover up imperfections, just enhance what she already had. And her laugh, the way she tilted her head back, hand covering her mouth as she laughed at something Draco had said, the way he stopped laughing to just admire her. That was what had well and truly broken your heart.

You had never been on bad terms with Pansy; you had a mutual friendship when you had been with Draco; in fact, she had been the one to help sneak you into the Slytherin rooms more often than not. But looking at them together you realised it was never your place to be with him, not when Pansy looked like she was made to be where she was.

You watched him look at her eat and talk to Blaise with the same eyes he used to look at you with. You were split in two; you just didn’t understand how his heart could have changed so quickly, how it was possible for someone who had spent years calling you his world to simply move on before you had even had a chance to realise what had happened. 

Yet the other half knew. Pansy was everything you were but so much more. Why settle for you when he could have her?

“I still can’t believe he and y/n broke up; I mean they were the great love story, if they can’t stay together what hope do the rest of us have?” They thought you couldn’t hear; thought you were too busy talking with your friends to notice the conversations happening literally 2 seats away from you. Or perhaps they were just cruel and wanted to rub salt in the wound hoping for an explanation you couldn’t give.

“I mean he seems happy with Pansy, but it just never occurred to me he’d be with anyone else you know? I thought they were happy together, but I guess we’ll never find out since neither of them talk about it.” Grace bless her soul, threw a pumpkin pasty at the two of them. You watched as the orange coloured filling burst across their uniform staining their shirts and skin. Their heads turned towards you, mouths open ready to argue when they saw Grace with another in her hand. You simply picked up one in your own hand and shared a look with Grace before throwing it.

//

You found yourself in the astronomy tower most nights, after the castle had gone to sleep, when the only thing you had to worry about was being caught by Filch. You’d sit and wait for Draco to show up like he always had, waited for him to tell you it was all one big joke or misunderstanding. But he never did.

You couldn’t stop your brain whirling at 100 miles an hour whenever you were in the tower, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop going, you had spent so long in here with him; before you had even started dating. You hadn’t just lost a boyfriend but a best friend.

"If you could be reborn as anything, what would it be?"

You could still remember the feel of his calloused in your hair go still as he gave thought to what you asked. “I don’t care what I’m reborn as, as long as I have you, I could be reborn as a fucking pebble for all I care "

His voice and words were rough, but you knew his heart was soft, knew it beat and belonged to you.

So why was it that you were sat there alone at 2am whilst he was probably curled around another girls body.

Shaking your stiff limbs, you made your way back to your dorms not ready to spend yet another night alone, but you’d just have to get used to it. You couldn’t stop your mind as memories played out in your brain, memories of kissing Draco as he dragged you back to the Dungeons, the both of you stumbling over each other, giggling into the night as you tried to make it back to his rooms but instead crashing in the room of requirement once you realised you wouldn’t make it back.

A door appeared to your left, the sight of the heavy wood causing your heart to catch in your throat. You didn’t think it would appear from you reminiscing yet here it was.

Your hands tentatively pushed open the doors, knowing exactly what you find but your eyes still filled with tears when you saw the room look exactly as it had done all those times you stumbled into it.

A master bedroom, books lining the wall of the furthest wall and a window seat, one you had spent so many nights curled up with Draco reading at. You could hear the whispered proclamations of love as the wind from the window whipped around you, you could feel Draco's lips against your neck as you giggled and told him to stop distracting you from reading.

You would sit between his legs, your back to his chest and every time you had finished a page you would tilt your head, wait for him to kiss you as indication to turn the page. It was the comfortable stolen moments like that you had missed the most. If you had known, you would’ve made the most of them, treasured your time with him more; but that was why you were here wasn’t it? There was no way you could’ve known; he played the part of being in love with you too well after all.

You couldn’t stop your memories unravelling as you continued to look around; you remember the feeling of his fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt- his shirt, he had always loved seeing you in his clothes and you loved the comfort they bought you, so you found yourself in them often. You remembered the way your breath used to hitch as his fingers found their goal, rough fingers pulling flimsy lace to the side so they could reach the throbbing heat that waited for him and only him.

You remember him telling you to keep reading, to read aloud to him. So, you did, about the protagonist who was pressed against a male’s front being utterly wrecked by his fingers alone. Draco had followed your every word, his fingers mimicking the actions in the book you read until you could see stars, until you felt like you were drowning in him. You had twisted your body, trying to reach any part of him but he had kept you pressed against him to be fucked by his fingers alone; just the same as the character in the book.

You had barely been able to read the words in front of your eyes, eyes hazy with pleasure; your mind focused only on the way Draco’s fingers felt inside of you. You still remembered the line that made him still, that almost had him loose control and take you there and then. “His eyes held mine as he brought those fingers to his mouth and sucked on them. On the taste of me.” His thumb had immediately reached for your swollen clit, taking him less than three strokes for you to fall apart.

You remembered what it was like in the aftermath; remembered the way he used to hold you tight, murmuring encouragements in your ears as you shook with overstimulation. You remember the haze you felt, his lips bringing you back to reality as you had almost blacked out. You remembered the earth-shattering pleasure that you had never been able to find with your own fingers, but he had learnt to all too easily.

Your eyes caught your own reflection, pupils blown wide open with lust.

It was an oh so familiar sight for you.

Draco had loved taking you in front of mirrors, the way he could see all of you and you could see yourself fall apart on him, loved the power behind it. 

Was he now doing the same to Pansy?

You shook the thoughts from your mind and turned to leave, the memories baring too much for you.

"Watch where you're going." it was as if the universe was truly against you; you had bumped straight into Draco, his arms instinctively reaching out to steady you. You didn’t waste a second to jump out of his arms, caught between wanting to jump back into them and wanting to push him down all the flights of stairs you could.

His voice has lost the natural soft tone that he had always used around you; you instead got the same sour Draco everyone else got; he was no longer yours after all.

You saw a flash of recognition in his eyes as you debated with yourself. Recognition of the way your pupils were the same as they would be all of those times he'd fucked you until you'd forgotten your own name, his own being the only word your mind was capable of remembering.

"Were you in there with someone?" It was calm. His anger. Not the rage that he'd throw at Potter or Weasley often, no this was the calm before the storm. A storm that he himself had caused.

"Would it matter if I was?" you controlled your breathing, your eyes holding steady against his though you knew he could still see in your eyes how affected you still were.

"Of course it matters. I-" he had stopped himself, chest heaving, fingernails leaving crescents in his palm.

"I'm not yours anymore Draco, you made that clear.” He said nothing but the blood dripping from his own lip as he tore the skin was indication enough, he still cared.

“I thought you were happy with me. I- I thought you loved me. What changed?" You couldn't help it as your feelings came tumbling out of your mouth. Your heart raced, this was it, he would explain himself and you could act as if the past torturous month hadn’t happened.

"Fuck whoever you want, whore yourself out for all I care. Just stay out of my way." It was like the guillotine had dropped, your emotions and expression changing instantaneously. You couldn't hide the heartbreak from your eyes, and you knew he could see it.

Your palm met his cheek harder than you thought you were capable of, "Fuck you Malfoy." You saw as his eyes flashed with something, something you didn’t recognise. But then again you didn’t recognise who stood before you now and perhaps he had seen that when you had used his given name and simply walked away.

PART 2 | PART 3

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[cobble-stone]

i can't believe i chose the mountains every time you chose the sea

*unfounds your found family* team BEST angst because well. as much as i love them i don't think there's gonna be a team BEST for much longer. enjoy.

i am not a writer why did i make this

ao3 link

Four stand in the walls of a castle built of snow, painted more of a pinkish hue in the sunrise. They are teammates, but they do not stand together.

Two stand side by side, arms resting on eachother's shoulders, using eachother as support. One of those two have danced with death twice too many.

One stands alone, he had fallen from practically unkillable all due to the others. Three lives lost saving so-called teammates. It wasn't worth it.

And the final stands alone, furthest from the rest, across a rocky line drawn ages before. Hair the same color of the blood that had spilled on the ground of where he died before.

"Give him a life, Etho." Tango had been used for his lives for weeks, demands of handing out fractions of his soul like candy. It was about time that someone else was the one to give up a piece of themselves instead.

Etho saw differently. Did his loyalty lie in a team that was starting to fracture at the seams, or in himself? He would answer himself, but his loyalty truly lied in neither. It lied in the metal band kept safe on a necklace, in the mossy scarf gifted to him by his closest friend. He would never admit to it, though. "No, not doing it."

"What do you mean- I gave up so many of my lives for Bdubs, and you won't even give up one for Skizz." How could Etho be so selfish. Tango had lost nearly every life he held last session- due to fucking Bdubs. Oh, how he wanted to throw his fists into that man's jaw until he looked like he had been dropped off the nether fortress ten times over.

"Hey, now don't bring me into this- this is your problem, not mine." He had done nothing but switch between red and yellow for the past two weeks, and he was tired. Tired of dealing with this bullshit, tired of the relentless anger that once flowed through his veins, and just straight up drained. The last thing that Bdubs wanted was to be dragged into the drama between his teammates.

Etho sighed, breath visible in the early morning fog. "I'm not doing it. We can get him a life from someone else, like I did with Scar that one time. But I need my life." A truth, but not the full extent. There was already countless targets on the back of the person next to him. His green name was insurance, a safety net to prevent the inevitable death of his best friend- his husband- for as long as possible.

"And we need Skizz back on this team- Do you even hear yourself right now Etho? You're being so fucking selfish." An ultimatum had to be made "If you don't give up a life, Skizz will be out of BEST, and so will I."

Silence, as the four stand together, waiting for a decision to be made.

And Etho would lie if he said the decision was instant. This team had grown to be something of a family, but last session the flaws had started to shine through. Was he really going to give up one of his few lives for a team that was so close to shattering? Especially if they may end up having to fight to the death regardless? A shield placed into the snow in front of him, one with a red painted E. "It was inevitable, this was always going to come to an end. Alliances don't last on this kind of server."

"What- Etho. Just give Skizz the goddamn life-" Bdubs protested.

"I've made my decision. I'm sorry Skizz." Etho looked over to him, whose face looked torn between anger and heartbreak.

And oh, how Skizz was. Team BEST was his team, these people were his family. How had it had all fallen apart so quickly? He trusted these people, it was supposed to be the four of them against the world, until the very end. And yet, the illusion of this so-called family unwound in front of his very eyes.

Tango blinked, but held back his rage. "Fine. Come on Skizz, they're not worth it." He looks over to Skizz, still frozen in place. He really was the glue that held us together, Tango thought. Without another word, Tango turned around and left, never even considering looking back.

Skizz did look back. Almost as if he was hopeful for a second chance, one that everyone knew he wouldn't receive. If he was any stronger he would have thrown his blade straight into Etho's chest, into Bdubs' as well for good measure, but he would never win against both at once.

"Why did you do that," in a voice even colder than the frigid air surrounding their home.

Etho didn't have an answer, not one he could bring himself to say, at least. It was leaving him on red or not being able to save you. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it fucking does, Etho. You just threw away everything because what- you didn't want to give up a life? Tango had a point- what if it was me? Huh? Would you have given it up for me?"

Etho was barely audible, despite the dead silence, "I would. That's why I didn't."

Silence sat between the two, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. "I'm going to the nether, we need more blaze rods," and before Bdubs could say another word, Etho had left. The blaze rods were a lie, all he wanted was a place to be left alone. The burning flames and the stench of death was more peaceful than the deafening silence the two would have shared.

Bdubs stayed behind. How could one man be so smart yet so stupid, to not see how much he destroyed in one choice. He didn't need protecting, he didn't need Etho to stockpile lives for him in case he died and went back to red. He needed Etho to have reunited the team. Bdubs twisted the ring sat on his finger, debating taking it off for good. He didn't.

Across the world, another joined the group of red lives who resided on a bridge near a cliffside. They welcomed Skizz with open arms, but he didn't want to feel welcomed.

Elsewhere, a yellow name sits in the forest, having left the snowy walls far off in the distance. Shards of a broken shield burning made for better warmth than that so-called team ever did. He frowned at seeing the blue text of the hand-painted T burning away into smoke.

Four once stood in the snowy walls of a castle, four once called eachother teammates, friends, family, in a twisted sense of kinship was doomed from the start.

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 3

We’re back to MC’s perspective with this one, and prepare for feels!

Fun fact, as someone who rarely writes xreader stuff, the sheer amount of times I write you or your is driving me crazy because I legit cannot replace them with some other descriptor like I would in third person to break things up XD

As always, mind the tags, you never know what I get up to when I’m writing angst :)

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Blinding pain was all you could recall as your mind drifted towards consciousness, hazy memories mingling with your dreams. You could hear Nightmare calling to you, his voice raw with so many emotions that it was almost overwhelming. The others could be heard too, though most of their voices had a somber note to them. Yet as you tried to recall what you could see, the only thing that came to you was the colour red.

With no means of making sense of the fragmented memories, your mind let them go only to be replaced with new sensations as you truly started to wake. Every little shift brought pain, your face feeling like it was still being burned by Ink. Your limbs felt stiff, like there was something restraining them, though at least your surroundings were soft. It felt like your bed, the same soft sheets and blankets that Nightmare had gotten for you. But as you thought of the dark god, you were made acutely aware of just how dark it was right now.

Nothing you did could alleviate the darkness; it was the same whether your eyes were open or closed. Considering how even your eyes ached and burned, it felt better to keep them closed for now since nothing could fix the crushing darkness. As panic set in, your movements became more erratic. Even if you knew you were safe within your room in the castle, that fear still gripped your soul with relentless strength. Blankets were nearly ripped off in your efforts to escape, and as you sat up in bed you hoped that your negativity would be a beacon to Nightmare.

The feeling of cool, slippery bones sliding against your cheek served to snap you out of your hysteria, your hopes answered in the familiarity of Nightmare’s presence. With his touch, you felt him steal away the negativity within you, leaving you calm if feeling a bit empty. He only absorbed your emotions whenever they were clearly out of control, so you were never too mad at him for doing so since they would come back after a while. And it served this time to calm you down from the panic that had consumed you, allowing you to relax as you leaned into the hand still resting against your cheek.

“There we go, little moon, you’re alright,” Nightmare cooed, his thumb rubbing against your face while his tentacles all moved to ensure you remained calm. While you couldn’t see them, they remained close enough that you could feel them crawling along, finding different places to rub against in a petting motion. “Just relax for me, okay?”

“A-Alright,” you stuttered out, melting under his precise touches. A sigh left your mouth as the previous tension within you let go, leaving you feeling truly relaxed. As much as you wanted to simply stay in the peaceful moment though, a thought kept nagging at you as you turned your head in the direction of his voice. “Night… why can’t I see you? E-Even if I open my eyes, it’s… just black. T-There’s nothing.”

The appendages currently touching you froze for just a second, and even as they continued their comforting motions, there was a stiffness to them that wasn’t present before. Silence filled the room for quite a time, all the while you waited with growing dread. Eventually, your partner spoke up, but his words weren’t what you were expecting. “What do you remember happening on our little outing to Outertale?”

“Outertale?” You echoed, thinking back on what you could recall. The two of you had been watching the stars, enjoying a moment of peace away from the crew. But that peace was shattered by the Star Sanses ambushing you, attacking Nightmare while he had nobody to fight alongside. You could recall Ink pursuing you despite Nightmare’s efforts to keep the Stars focused solely on him, and you remembered the joint attack that you saw coming from Dream and Ink. That attack would’ve crippled Nightmare if it didn’t kill him, and you clearly remembered your last-minute decision to save him despite the risk. Beyond that though, everything was a blur. “I… I remember the fight, and… I remember how the Stars were teaming up to take you down. I know I tried to save you, but… I don’t remember what happened after that…”

You trailed off, frowning at the gap in your memory that stopped you from answering any questions you may have had. The frown was quickly swept away though as you felt a gentle ‘kiss’ placed against the back of your hand, Nightmare’s teeth mimicking the affectionate gesture as they pressed against your skin. “Yes, you saved me, little moon. You saw right through my brother’s trickery, and you risked your own life to save mine. Part of me wishes to berate your foolishness for rushing into such danger, but… I’m more angry at myself for being unable to save you in turn.” The hand rubbing against your cheek shifted up to your temple, gently brushing against the underside of your eye. Yet you couldn’t feel his bones directly, merely the pressure indicating the presence.

Something was in the way, preventing him from touching you directly at that spot. Before his tentacles could stop you, your free hand reached up only to freeze at the far too familiar feeling. “B-Bandages? Night, w-why are my eyes covered in bandages?”

Your trembling hand was gently coaxed away from your face, a soft tentacle wrapping around the limb and pulling it back down. While you now knew why the world was dark for you, it only brought up so many more questions, and from the sound of Nightmare’s sigh, he didn’t want to tell you. “MC, you… Dream- ugh, this is harder to say delicately than I expected.”

“Then spit it out!” You almost growled, panic and desperation clawing at your soul. Until you had an answer, the feeling wouldn’t go away, even if your partner tried to force apathy upon you.

Thankfully, the dark god hadn’t resorted to attempting such, a groan of displeasure leaving him. You tightened your grip on his hand, silently begging him to simply be blunt if stepping around the issue was too difficult. Any answer would be better than nothing at this point… at least that’s what you thought.

Your opinion on the matter very quickly changed as Nightmare spoke up. “When Dream fired his arrow, you pushed me out of the way of his strike. Your actions spared me, but… his arrow damaged your eyes. That alone wouldn’t have been so difficult to deal with, however Ink, that chaotic little devil… his paint hit both of us. It did little to hurt me since my brother’s attack missed, but…” The dark skeleton trailed off, and you could’ve sworn that you heard him sniffle a bit. Such a “weak” display of emotion was uncharacteristic of him, even in front of you. “I’m so sorry little moon, but his paint got into your eyes. It burned them, and… we couldn’t undo the damage. You… I’m afraid you’re blind.”

“W-What?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper as you processed his words, finding yourself riddled with disbelief. There’s no way you could be blind, there’s no way the guys failed to heal you. Cross and Pyre had both taken care of your injuries in the past, and you knew that Nightmare’s preferential treatment of you made them too scared to fail for fear of his wrath. “You… you have to be wrong… t-there’s no way I’m suddenly blind!”

“MC, please calm down. You’re still recovering from your injuries, you could hurt yourself-”

“I’m already hurt, Nightmare! You told me I’m fucking blind!” You screamed, your eyes stinging as if they were trying to produce tears. Yet you couldn’t feel anything, not even the damn bandages growing damp. Growing furious, your hand shot up to rip them away, your arm pulling out of the tentacle’s lax grip with ease. The bandages had to be the reason you couldn’t see, it wasn’t that you were blinded!

Just as your hand managed to touch the soft fabric, the tentacle returned to grappling your limb with renewed vigor. “MC, stop this foolishness! You’ll only hurt yourself further!” Nightmare snapped, the tentacle continuing to wind its way around your arm and pull with increasing strength. Gritting your teeth, you dug your fingers into the bandages, determined to pull them away, and simply stopped fighting against the tentacle.

Your arm was yanked from your head, tearing bandages and damaging the still-healing flesh beneath. But despite the pain, you opened your now uncovered eye only for despair to hit you. “I… I-I’m blind,” you mumbled, feeling a sob build in the back of your throat even as your eyes refused to let you cry. They only continued to burn, the sensation growing worse the longer you held your eye open for. “I-I’m blind… I’m blind... I-”

Several tentacles wrapped tightly around you, bringing you closer to Nightmare as he hugged you to his chest. It managed to stop your spiralling thoughts, your hands digging into his jacket as you tried to come to terms with reality. Nightmare wasn’t lying; you really had been blinded by the Stars.

Some of your negativity was siphoned off, but most of it remained so that you could process your emotions and not simply run from them. Part of you wished to ask for the same emotionless bliss that Killer enjoyed, even if temporary, but you knew that your partner wouldn’t oblige. Still, he at least made the swirling negativity within you easier to handle, allowing you to have your moment with the god’s silent support.

It was only when the maelstrom within you calmed that he pulled away, his fingers brushing against the tender, burnt skin on your face. You couldn’t help the flinch, now keenly aware of the pain that your actions caused. The skeleton said nothing as he shifted, rustling being heard from what you assumed was the nightstand. It wasn’t much longer before the rest of the ripped bandages were stripped away, the air stinging your face until they were replaced with fresh ones that hid your injuries from the world once again.

“There, I’ll have to apply a cream to your facial burns a bit later, it seems you managed to rip open some of the blisters so I’ll wait until Cross can heal them.” More rustling could be heard from around the nightstand again, and you so desperately wished that you could simply see what was going on rather than trying to guess. “In the meantime, you should eat something now that you’re awake.”

One thing you were at least acutely aware of was Nightmare’s presence; the air around him was always a degree or two cooler, and there was a faint aura of dread that emanated from him. In your time together, you’d grown so used to his aura that it no longer bothered you. What did bother you was when you felt that aura pull away, your panic surging at the thought of being left alone. Without thought, you blindly reached out for him, managing to grab one of his slippery tentacles despite his movements. “P-Please! Don’t go! I... I-I don’t want to be alone…”

“MC, I’m just going to the kitchen to have Pyre prepare you something to eat,” he argued. Despite the fact that your eyes were hidden by bandages, you immediately tried to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, the one look that you knew he couldn’t resist. If it was from an actual puppy, Nightmare might’ve kicked the thing away out of annoyance, but you’d worn him down to where he caved to your begging almost every time.

This time was no exception, the god of negativity sighing as his tentacle wrapped around your arm and his presence returned to your side. “Alright, I’ll remain here for now. When one of the others comes to check in, I’ll send them to get your meal. Will that appease you?”

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, following the tentacle back to Nightmare’s chest where you proceeded to snuggle into it. He might’ve been seen as cold and cruel to everyone else, but he was nothing but a source of comfort for you. It would take quite a bit of adjustment and probably a few more meltdowns before you properly came to terms with your newfound blindness, but for now you felt surprisingly calm as you simply enjoyed the moment of rare peace in the castle.

“Hey Night, do they know we’re a couple yet?”

Just as your partner went to answer, the door to your room slammed open, causing you to jolt and pull back.

“Woah, not what I was expecting to walk into!” Killer’s voice echoed throughout the room, your face heating up despite your best efforts. “Didn’t know that you were into cuddles, boss! Guess it takes a certain special someone to make ya all soft~”

A groan left Nightmare’s mouth, and you could practically envision him pinching the bridge of nose at Killer’s words. “If they didn’t before, then they definitely know now.”

The two of you didn’t hear the end of it from Killer until Nightmare slammed the door in his face, though he could be heard loudly blabbing about what he’d seen to everyone in the castle. Yelling would be a more apt word. Still, it at least brought some of the others to check on you now that you were awake. Cross tended to your burns with some healing magic, dulling the pain and taking care of the blisters that you broke open in your earlier hysteria. Pyre rambled off something about cooking from the great Papyrus before darting off as quick as he came, returning with a bowl of soup that honestly smelled delicious right around the time Cross left. Nightmare never left your side the entire time, treating your wounds alongside Cross while one of his tentacles almost never broke contact with you. It was more reassuring than you would’ve thought it would be, allowing you to physically feel that he was staying with you just as he said he would.

It was strange having everyone fuss over you so much, though you guessed that might’ve been the fact that your relationship with Nightmare was now out in the open. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be though, as everyone except for Killer was respectful. Killer… well, there was only so much you could expect from someone who insulted others for the fun of it, so it wasn’t too surprising nor hard to deal with. It was almost… easier now that you didn’t have to hide your feelings for the lord of the castle, and it might’ve been your imagination but the others almost seemed to be treating you better than before. Pyre was always kind to you, and Cross was never difficult, but they seemed to be treating you a bit more carefully now than before. It was likely all in your head though, merely some of the castle’s nicer residents showing compassion to you in one of your times of weakness. Killer certainly wasn’t acting any differently. Regardless, the biggest source of comfort was your boyfriend sitting next to you, never leaving your side even as the warm meal, healing magic, and sheer emotional drain left you nodding off and relaxing back into the covers of your bed.

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[effei-s]

What shatter-me Warner would do.

The fastest character assassination I’ve ever seen.

Here’s the thing: Warner from original trilogy had character arch. More important: he was a character.

He was mean, villainous, cold, cruel murderer, with daddy who basically bought him regency (like come on, if it wasn’t for Anderson no one would even think about giving him that position; n for nepotism), but he also was deeply traumatized and abused his whole life and had little to none normal human interactions. I loved that fact that the only good thing he did (killing Fletcher because he was abusing his family) resolved into a complete catastrophe (Anderson killing children and wife) because Warner didn’t think it through. He tried to do the right thing and failed miserably, because he was more concerned with making a spectacle for Juliette. And after that he still had the audacity to paint himself as a hero who saved poor family from terrible tyrant in Ignite me.

I didn’t expect him to act and think like a human being. He didn’t need to act like a normal human. Warner gas lighting Juliette in the first third of ignite me is Warner’s thing to do. Him yelling and throwing tantrums and making scenes in Unravel me is Warner’s thing to do. Him forcing Juliette to do things she doesn’t want and traumatizing her in the process in Shatter me is Warner’s thing to do. Him wanting to torture Adam to death is Warner’s thing to want.

There’s a few reasons for this:

a) he doesn’t know how to communicate with people other than giving them orders or making threats;

b) he truly believes that he’s in the right here (he doesn’t see himself as a bad guy in Juliette story, more like a knight on a white horse);

c) he’s physically unable to be honest with himself and always has someone to blame for his own mistakes and failures;

d) he’s ‘results justify the means’ kind of guy.

Changes for good, with trauma that deep, when you basically don’t have a moral compass, don’t happen over night.

Was his ignite-me arch made sloppy? Yes. Everything was too info-dumpy and too convenient (Juliette forgetting that Warner was going to torture Adam to death; Juliette feeling that she’s the one who needs to apologize; Leila’s entire character used only for a sob story; Adam turned into a douchebag so Warner would look a more suitable love interest, etc). But it still was an arch. And the finale of ignite me was so open I really could imagine that, little by little, in the future, he will start to trust people more and really gonna help Juliette and co to make the world a better place. And his redemption arch wasn’t finished in the slightest, and I would even say that it was only the beginning of it, but it was implied that things will get better from there (the most important part of that being him genuinely wanting to make things right with Adam and James; he’s the one who makes the first step and initiate the bond).

So what went wrong in new three books? Ehm… everything, to be honest. Instead of developing a character that was already there, she decided to give him a new personality. Actually it can be said about every single one of characters, but Warner just happened to be the biggest victim of them all.

Let’s look at Restore me.

Okay, we have his pov, and I never thought I would say it but… Warner is kinda dumb. He’s supposed to be this military strategy genius, someone who knows how RE works from within and… it turns out that he just as clueless as Juliette. More than this, we never actually see him do ANYTHING except fucking Juliette. And for some reasons he never helps Juliette with her work??? There’s so much paperwork and instead of helping her to sort though it he’s… just not there???

Those stupid long monologues about how she’s capable to do anything mean nothing if he doesn’t actually help (as we can see at the end of restore me, when Juliette gets captured).

That fact that he doesn’t immediately check if Castle’s words are true? And instead of helping Juliette with Haider (telling everything he knows about him and his family, preparing her for the dinner) he fucks her??? This is a dumb bitch shit. And maybe you didn’t noticed but Shatter-me Warner wasn’t a dumb bitch.

After all, there’s a simple reason I never wanted the job of supreme commander myself—

I never wanted the responsibility.

It’s a tremendous amount of work with far less freedom than one might expect; worse, it’s a position that requires a great deal of people skills. The kind of people skills that include both killing and charming a person at a moment’s notice. Two things I detest.

Remember shatter-me Warner who wanted power because power meant that he could have control over his life? Remember shatter-me Warner who wanted to work with Juliette as a team to change the world? Yeah that’s him now.

No personal ambitions allowed when you’re a walking dildo, I guess.

Off the topic, but Mafi really enjoys making Juliette stupid as fuck:

“Oh, yes, of course,” she says, remembering. “I’ve gotten a bunch of letters about that. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal.”

Let's continue.

Hurting Haider would be enough to start a world war.

Warner says and then Juliette threatens Haider, a foreign official on a diplomatic mission, and instead of being even a little bit worried and think about possible consequences, Warner thinks this:

But I can only smile at her. I want to scoop her up and carry her away. Take her somewhere quiet and lose myself in her.

Okay, I guess it’s official, there’s sperm inside of his head instead of brain cells. I can’t find any other explanation for this clownery.

Shatter-me Warner would… Shatter-me Warner won’t be in this situation in the first place.

Someone tries to kill Juliette and Warner does… nothing about it. He never goes to check the body of the assassin himself. He thinks that Nazeera hides something and he still allows her to go around and doesn’t even interrogate her when Juliette says that Nazeera was there at the moment of the attack. He doesn’t find it even a little bit suspicious? That guy who had tremendous trust issues in the original trilogy? Remember him? Yeah, that guy. Shatter-me Warner would lock Nazeera and Haider up and demanded answers. Shatter-me Warner would be angry as fuck, and would try to kill Kenji with his bare hands, because Kenji was stupid enough to leave Juliette alone. Shatter-me Warner wouldn’t stop until he had answers (and the head of a person who wanted to kill Juliette on a plate).

New Warner is too busy feeling sorry for himself to actually do anything about it. And after one chapter it’s completely forgotten, like that fact that someone tried to kill her is not important at all.

And then Castle enters the picture with his stupid and sloppy info-dumping (I guess Mafi never heard of ‘show don’t tell’ rule). And says this:

“She can’t lead this resistance,” he says, squinting at something in the distance. “She’s too young. Too inexperienced. Too angry. You know that, don’t you?”

and if that wasn’t enough he also says this:

“It should’ve been you,” Castle says. “I always secretly hoped—from the day you showed up at Omega Point—that it would’ve been you. That you would join us. And lead us.” He shakes his head. “You were born for this. You would’ve managed it all beautifully.”

AND HE’S STILL ALIVE AFTER?

This is a fucking treason right there. And Warner A-OKAY with this.

Shatter-me Warner would strangle him right there. Or better yet, he would go along with this until he has 100% evidences of Castle’s betrayal and then he would kill him. Or he would kill him simply because Castle was withholding important information and earlier in books he put Juliette in a great danger by sending her to Anderson without telling her the truth (unravel me).

But not this Warner. New Warner is far more concerned with fucking Juliette then helping her or looking for a way out of this situation (because now he has dick instead of a brain).

After my father’s revelation, my thirst for information became suddenly insatiable. I needed to know more—who these people were, where they’d come from, how much we’d known—

WHERE AND WHEN DID WARNER IN PREVIOUS BOOKS DISPLAY THIS?

When I say that Mafi simply forgot her own characters this is what I mean. Warner from original trilogy didn’t give a flying fuck about them. He thought that they were weak and stupid.

I will lose her.

And it will kill me.

He said this shit and after he nearly had a panic attack because he imagined her dating someone else? Oh, come on, how more pathetic can he get?

There are words for this kind of behavior: toxic codependency.

Oh wait wait! I know! This is not Warner! This is Edward Cullen disguised as Warner! The mystery is solved!

Oh, he fucks her again. Apparently it’s the only thing he’s good at. What a character! The layers! The complexity!

And then Lena came into the picture.

Until that moment I was more or less okay with Warner. Yes, I was very confused, but I was ready to give Mafi benefit of the doubt. He lost his father and was dealing with grieve. We all can act out of character in the face of a tragedy or drastic changes.

“Why do you keep pressing this? Who cares if I’ve been with other women? They meant nothing to me—”

And there I felt in my guts, I’m not gonna like what next to come.

Haider was exhibiting suicidal tendencies. Self-harming. And I got really scared. I called Warner because I knew Haider would listen to him.” She shakes her head. “Warner didn’t say a word. He just got on a plane. And he stayed with us for a couple of weeks. I don’t know what he said to Haider,” she says. “I don’t know what he did or how he got him through it, but”—she looks off into the distance, shrugs—“it’s hard to forget something like that.

Oh, so Warner's words about how he never had any real interactions with anyone before Juliette were bullshit. About how he doesn’t understand people were also bullshit. About how Juliette was the first person who was not afraid to speak with him freely were also bullshit. Because all of the sudden he can help someone heavily depressed. Someone with suicide tendencies? Someone who harms himself? And now he has an ex-girlfriend who’s ready to beat the fuck out of him and calls him mean words (she clearly doesn’t fear him)?

Now his entire character in the first trilogy doesn’t make any sense. And his excuses don’t make any sense.

Bravo, Mafi! Bravo! This was the fastest character assassination I’ve ever seen.

She says that Lena was in love with him—really in love with him—but that Warner broke her heart, that he never treated her with any real affection and she’s hated him for it.

Oh, so he’s not only stupid and absolutely useless, he’s a fuckboy. And if there’s one thing I HATE, it’s fuckboys.

There’s a big-big-big difference between someone who has one-night-stands and THIS SHIT:

“You’re upset, I understand. But it’s not my fault you feel this way. I don’t love you. I never have. And I never led you to believe I did.”

“She and I,” he says, “it was—we were nothing. It was a relationship of convenience and basic companionship. It meant nothing to me. Truly,” he says, “you have to know—if I never said anything about her it was only because I never thought about her long enough to even consider mentioning it.”

“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t two years of anything serious. It wasn’t even two years of continuous communication.” He sighs. “She lives in Europe, love. We saw each other briefly and infrequently. It was purely physical. It wasn’t a real relationship—”

So he despised her but used her for sex? WOW. Cool. He can go and trip over a fucking knife or fall out of the window for all I care.

“Everything in my life was different before I met you,” he says. “I was lost and all alone. I never cared for anyone. I never wanted to get close to anyone. I’ve never—you were the first person to ever—”

And how exactly he was able to help Haider with his self-harm then??? If he didn’t CaRe for anyone before Juliette?

This was the moment when Warner from original trilogy died in agony.

Okay, let’s see real quick what we have in Defy Me:

He thinks about escape but never really does anything to escape;

(anderson is the one who opens his cell;

he stands in front of a guy who murdered his mother and doesn’t even think about her, yeah I can see how important she was for him;

/again, shatter-me Warner would probably demanded answers, but not walking dildo, walking dildo cares only about Juliette. his excuse in ignite me 'i did it all for my mom' doesn't make any sense now, because he actually doesn't give a flying fuck about her/

he gets captures one minute after he “kills” Anderson;

nazeera is the one who gets him out of there;

super soldier taught his whole life how to survive, everyone. useless as fuck)

He doesn’t know anything about jewelry.

(super ooc, i know what Mafi was trying to do here: she tried ‘sherlock holmes doesn’t know that earth revolves around the sun’ thing Arthur Conan Doyle did, but the problem is WARNER IS A FASHIONISTA, or he was).

He wants to get married because…???

He sees a woman who tried to kill Juliette and he’s a-okay with staying at her place, because she said that it was actually a message (???).

Castle is still alive.

Nazeera who knew all this time about Anderson and was working for him is also alive and well.

Oh and he doesn’t care about Anderson being alive and being a real threat to Juliette (fucking her is more important for him, as usual).

His complete disregard for Juliette’s safety only makes me hate him more with every new book.

Imagine me.

First and foremost: don’t call imagine-me Warner shatter-me Warner. Don’t insult shatter-me Warner like that. With shatter-me Warner Anderson would have to try very hard to get to Juliette. It would be ‘Warner made 100 back-up plans, but Anderson knew him too well and created 101 plan and that’s how he managed to win’ kind of situations.

But walking dildo is too busy feeling sorry for himself (as usual), he just sits by her bed FOR TWO FUCKING DAYS, doing absolutely NOTHING to make sure she’ll be safe.

Nooira says that Juliette should be killed and she’s still alive for some reason.

He’s entire persona is that he’s rude to people (but not bbc’s sherlock holmes kind of rude, when he’s unbearable dick but he’s actually smart and really gets shit done, so we can tolerate him). He’s just rude.

He doesn't care about Adam or James's wellbeing (remember Ignite me Warner who really wanted a family? Yeah that's him now).

But he has gruppies now, because he’s hot and everyone in the sanctuary wants to fuck him.

Oh and he proposed to Juliette. HE PROPOSED. THEY ENGAGED! DO YOU HEAR ME??? THEY GONNA BE MARRIED! HE PROPOSED TO HER! AND SHE SAID YES! THEY GONNA MERRY!

Because god fucking forbid we forget about it.

(mafi really thinks that her readers have the mental capacity of a golden fish, huh?)

I lost count how many times walking dildo implies that he's gonna kill himself if Juliette is not with him (disgusting).

Then our walking dildo cures Juliette by the power of petting (it’s not power of love, lads and gents; you want to see love go watch defenders on netflix; mafi already copypasted elektra’s arch from that show into imagine-me Juliette, you can do yourself a favor and see how this trope can be executed without borderline on sexual assault petting scene).

18-old girl marries a fucking sociopath believing he’s actually a good person.

(we all know how shit like this ends, people like that don't change; and this 'he's different with me cuz i'm very special and i'm gonna teach him the right way' it's really harmful message considering that the audience of those books are mostly teenage girls).

Trust me, there's nothing revolutionary in this trope, it's tale as old as time.

Here's the thing, good written character always defined by connection to other people: friend, lovers, enemies, family, foes, acquaintances, even some random strangers. It's the easiest way to establish what kind of person they are.

Walking dildo doesn't have any of that because all of his "character" revolves around Juliette. He's not a person anymore. By the end of Imagine me he doesn't have friends (his relationships with Kenji or Haider non-existent), no family connections (no talks with Adam or James), even enemies or foes or even people that don't like him (because everyone wants to fuck him, because being hot is his only character trait).

His only family and friend is Juliette. And you know what? It's fucking boring, overdone and lazy as fuck. And insulting to the character he once was.

No redemption arch, no character arch at all.

Happy end.

[carelesscreativity]

NightKiller Broken Bones w/ Uncorrupted!Nightmare for LateNightBarista: Commission For Ko-Fi

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(SFW, Blood[?], Angst, Fluff)

It was worse than usual. Usually, when Nightmare had a bad day, the castle would feel electrified and tense. Going out into the hallway or to the kitchen was a risk. Nightmare would be near delirious and attacking anything that seemed even remotely threatening. The gang knew that Nightmare couldn't help it. When he was having a bad day, Nightmare's past memories were kicked into full gear and he would be drowning in old pain. Trying to talk to him was out of the question and trying to touch him was a suicide mission. They usually all just hid. But today seemed different.

The castle held the same charged feeling, but none of them had heard anything. There was no screaming. No breaking of furniture. No feverish rambling about not wanting to be touched or seen. Nightmare hadn't even left his room. It was quiet and there was a heavy aura of pain surrounding the castle like a thick smog, slightly choking each of them. Killer couldn't even focus on sharpening his knife in his own room. His hand wasn't steady enough and he had to give up before he permanently fucked up the blade.

It had been almost four hours since the feeling had settled over the castle. Nightmare usually started his reign of destruction and terror as soon as he woke up. Killer knew that, if he was wrong, he would be risking quite possibly all of his limbs. But he was the boss' right hand. So that meant he had to look out for him. Or something like that. He hopped down and teleported before his feet even hit the floor. He landed in the hallway right outside Nightmare's room. He paused. He couldn't hear anything from inside and it was still eerily quiet. He slipped his knife back up his sleeve and paused. He raised his hand and for once in his life, Killer actually knocked.

He waited a few moments. The aura wasn't becoming any more charged. His target soul gave an uneasy waver. Killer's brow furrowed and he knocked again, a little louder. "Boss??" He called, knowing he had a strong enough voice to carry through the door. There. He heard a small shuffle and the faintest hint of a sharp inhale. Killer furrowed his brow and moved a little closer to the door, listening. He could just barely hear raspy breathing. "Boss, I'm coming in." It was more of a warning than anything. It was also Killer signing off on his death wish if Nightmare decided to freak out.

He turned the knob, only to find it locked. He sighed and teleported inside, disregarding the door completely. The aura of pain was thick in the room. Every negative feeling was swirling around like fumes and Killer gave a momentary tremble. The breathing was louder. It was practically a death rattle, but it kept going and for a split second, Killer felt a small pinprick of fear that Nightmare really was dying. The thought made him ache in a way he couldn't describe. He had yet to turn around and face the bed, where he could hear the breathing coming from. "Boss. I'm gonna turn." He said, bracing himself.

He wasn't even sure what he was bracing himself for. He turned and the first thing he became aware of was the staining. Black stains were spattered across the walls and leaked into the carpet around the bed. And good stars, the bed. The bed was bleached black, all hints of the dark purple sheets gone. The thing on the bed caught Killer's attention and it shook him to his skeletal core. He managed to actually focus. The monster in the middle of the corruption was unmistakably a skeleton.

But the only parts that seemed to be connected were the head and the torso. The lower half had been broken off at the spine and all of their limbs were completely shattered off as well. The remains of a shredded purple tunic somewhat covered their upper half, but not enough since Killer could still see what was left of the ribcage. Any ribs that were still there were cracked or dangling. Regardless, the ribcage still moved up and down with each breath. There was a dented, stained and lopsided crown on their head that looked like it might've once been gold.

Black liquid was freely pouring out of every crack and orifice on their body, Killer able to tell how much of a struggle it was for them to breathe around it. The limbs were splayed around them and Killer could tell that some pieces were missing. A couple fingers and toes. He finally focused on their head. The entire left side of it was busted open in a wound that would put Horror's to shame. An eyelight was fixed on him in the other socket, muddled violet and cyan. The second Killer met their gaze, he felt a shockwave straight through his body to his soul.

His soul snapped into an inverted heart and his vision became crystal clear as his eyelights flared to life. He vaguely recalled hearing something about this form. Everyone knew the story of Dreamtale. He could still see bruises on those stained bones. He was snapped back out of his thought by a wheezing, violent cough. He winced as something snapped and he saw one of the other's ribs break off and fall, becoming dust against the bedsheets. Based on why he could barely see underneath the taters of the tunic, Killer didn't want to guess what the other's back looked like.

His eyelights moved up to the meet the other skeleton's once again. The corruption looked like it had unpeeled and melted around them. Killer didn't say anything at first because he needed a moment to piece everything together. It was a given that Nightmare was blind on his left side, but he hadn't quite realized the extent. Sometimes, he'd catch Nightmare stumble randomly while walking or in the middle of battle and, seeing his broken legs, it made sense to Killer.

The black-eyed skeleton could also see the way Nightmare's palms were cracked and he was simply missing quite a few fingers and the boss' occasional difficulty with physically grasping and holding things was so much clearer. Everything was so much clearer. Killer started to slowly move over. "Boss." The word alone seemed to make Nightmare flinch. He wasn't. He wasn't Boss. He couldn’t be. Not like this. Never like this. Everything hurt and his pain had amplified six times over once Killer had seen him. He hadn't wanted anyone to ever see him in this form. He could only breathe though, completely useless to speak. Killer's shoes squished along the carpet as he got closer, finally stopping next to the bed.

He was on his blind side, the bastard. Nightmare still remembered the origin of that wound like it was yesterday. He recalled vaguely the goop beginning to spill out of his eyesocket at a frightening rate. It hadn’t been too alarming at first. He hadn't been ready for the corruption to literally explode out the side of his skull in a way that felt like he'd been shot from the inside out. He was yanked out of his memories with a sharp inhale as he felt the slightest shift in the bed. He managed to turn his head, his neck creaking a little to see that Killer had picked and begun to fuse the broken pieces of his left arm back together. What was he doing??

Nightmare managed to make a questioning noises and Killer, forever on the same page as him, glanced up. "What's it look like? Putting you back together." He replied to Nightmare's unspoken question. Nightmare stared at him for another few moments. Killer kept glancing up at him before sighing. "No, I don't think any less of you, okay? You don't have to keep looking at me like that. I won't tell a soul." Killer was always so hard to read. His emotions were always so faded and while it helped in battle against Dream, it didn't help with complicated conversations like this.

But Killer's soul was inverted right now, which meant... Hesitantly and painfully, Nightmare probed at Killer's emotions. The slight brow raise signaled that Killer could tell was he was doing, but he wasn't going to stop him. Nightmare could sense truth. He could sense truth and trust and devotion and... Nightmare didn't realize he was shaking until he felt Killer's hand give the lightest touch over his sternum to still him. Nightmare was crying. It would be difficult to see his tears through the black liquid running down his face, but Killer had always been a perceptive son of a bitch.

Nightmare continued to stare at Killer as he worked on fusing his broken, battered body back together. Where was it? Where was the amusement? The disappointment?? The pity??? Every emotion Nightmare would've expected from Killer simply wasn't there and all he could sense was his devotion, his respect and his admiration for him. There was another feeling. One that Nightmare could barely recognize, but didn't want to acknowledge. Not yet, at least. He furrowed his brow, twitching slightly at the pain that it sent through his skull. He continued to stare before Killer glanced up. "Deep breath." Nightmare did so, but still whimpered as Killer popped his arm back into the socket. "There we go..." Nightmare could feel soft pulses as Killer sent soothing magic through it. "Boss."

The title made the invisible smog of pain in the room worse, so Killer took a breath and tried again. "Nightmare." The broken skeleton opened his eye and looked at him. "I don't know how you do it..." He moved to his other side and Nightmare felt a little more relaxed since he could see him better. He watched Killer pick up the other arm and get to work on it. "You... live like this... and still manage to be everything I admire. I've seen you fight amazing battles and this was the kind of body you were working with underneath?" He gave a soft scoff of amazement. "Unbelievable... You’re truly amazing.”

Nightmare really didn't know what to do for a moment. All he could sense was truth and it was overwhelming him. He wanted to cover his face and he managed to shift his reattached arm just a little. Killer seemed to notice immediately and reached over him, gently placing a hand on his arm as a gesture to keep it still. "You don't need to hide from me." He said softly. Nightmare made a weak noise. If he could blush, he would've. Killer finished with his other arm and stood up. "Deep breath." Nightmare did so, still unable to stop the sharp cry of pain as Killer reattached it.

Once again, he relaxed into the soothing pulses Killer gave. After another moment, Killer reached out and flicked the tatters of his tunic. “Probably can’t take this off of you all the way without fucking something up, but you mind if I start working on your ribs?” Nightmare didn’t answer for a moment and Killer blinked. “I could also start on your legs, but that would mean cutting open what’s left of your pants.” Nightmare gave a weak huff and Killer nodded. “Ribs it is, then.”

He pushed the fabric out of the way and Nightmare nearly started crying as he felt the pain slowly beginning to lift away into dull aching as Killer’s magic began to spread through him. He screwed his eye shut and kept his head turned away. He inhaled shakily as he felt a hand slip under his cheek and he managed to look back at the other. Killer had his other hand on his sternum. “I’ll fix you up. Nightmare... if you were able to do what you do with a broken body, imagine what you could do with a mended one? Stars, you’d be unstoppable.” Nightmare blinked before managing a very small, weak smile. He wanted to laugh, but he was sure that would fuck up whatever Killer was doing.

Killer chuckled, rubbing his thumb over his cheek bone at the sight of that little grin. “You can relax a little. It’ll be a while.” He watched as Nightmare closed his eye and tipped his head into his hand. Killer’s grin had already returned in response. He kept soothing and healing. It would take a bit, but for Nightmare, he had magic to spare and all the patience in the world.