#do i want to rip my heart out or slap my knee in jest

[celestie0]

sighhj should i finish choso x reader punk rock au or should i finish gojo x reader babysitter au

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Alice part 2

@whumptywhumpdump @ashintheairlikesnow @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen

This takes place only hours before Alice get’s picked up by the lib people.

CW: panic attack, mentally ill and injured whumpee, partly made up mental illness (maladaptive daydreaming heavily exaggerated), hallucinations

„You know I can‘t- Could you just-“ Alice waved at the other man cramped into the toilet stall with him. Eyebrows raised in expectation.

„What?“

„Privacy?!“ Alice exclaimed, nearly dropping the toilet paper roll he‘d been fidgeting with. „I‘d like to take a piss in peace for once, you know? And I can‘t do that when those sparkling hungry eyes of yours are staring at my penis. It‘s shy.“

Five shock his head, white blonde hair flopping into blue eyes. His fine lips pulled down. „Remind me why we‘re friends again?“

„Because you,“ Alice turned his back to him, undoing his pant zipper.  „ apparently can‘t get enough of me peeing into hospital toilets, which hey, really no shame, but it‘s a pretty weird kink. And trust me, I know weird.“

Alice chuckle died in the silence between them. Five wasn‘t making any move to leave. The soft fabric of Alice pants tickled under his fingers. He sighed. „I won‘t pass out again ‚kay?“

„You sure ab-“

„You worry to much.“ Alice cut him of with a beaming grin. The scars intersecting his face stretched under the bandages.  „Just relax Five. I feel absolutely splen-.“ „-did.“ Five tuned in. A wry smile found its way onto his face. „Okay okay. But I‘ll wait at the door.“

Just as Alice flashed another smile over his shoulder, ready to finally blessedly pull his pants down and pee, did he hear it.

Clack, clack, clack.

This dreaded sound. Sharp metal tips clicking over tile floors. Creeping out of over-bright lights. Coming closer. Closer.

Clack, clack, clack.

Alice breath caught. Lungs simply refusing to work, to expand. Body frozen in cold terror. Afraid even the tiniest twitch of muscle would make a sound. Would be heard. By this- this thing. Entering the restrooms.

Clack, clack, clack.

BAM!

The last stall of the line slammed open. Alice hands flew to his mouth, fingers digging into scarred skin until it hurt, desperately trying to keep his whimpers from escaping. Tears stung in his eyes.

Clack, clack, clack.

BAM!

The first one fell, silent as a snowflake and Alice wanted to scream. Dark spots danced behind his eyes.

Clack, clack, clack.

BAM!

Five uncurled his fingers from the doorknob one by one, shifted, as quietly as possible and wrapped his arms around Alice trembling shoulders in a silent embrace.

Clack, clack, clack.

BAM!

Alice flinched violently, knocking his head against Fives narrow chin. Curling into the embrace, wide eyed. His vision swam. But both had remained silent. Silent. So very, very silent. If they were silent enough maybe IT would go away. Disappear back into the white cold fluorescent light.

Clack…

„Ssshh. Sssshhh.“ Five whispered, his warm breath ghosting over Alice sweat cold skin. His heart stuttered to a stop. Everything blurred and bled together in front of his eyes. The toilet bowl, the tiles, the cabin walls. melting into visual white noise.

Clack…

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupquietquietquietbequietshutupshutu-

„Breath.“ Warm arms tightened around his fear frozen body. „Remember what the doctor said. It‘s not real Alice. It‘s just a spill.“

Clack…

Tears rolled over his cheeks. Burned hot paths down his skin, soaked into his bandages. He shock his head, knees buckling under the wave of nausea following the motion.

Five pulled at his hands. Tried to pry them from his mouth as gently as possible. „Alice. Alice you need to breath. Breath and remember. You know were that thing came from.“

Alice shuddered. Oh yes he did know. How could he ever not know.

„It‘s not real.“

Notrealnotrealnotreal Things without faces don‘t exists.

He dared the smallest, most tentative breath. Sucked it through the gaps between his fingers. Tasting panic and sweat on his tongue.

„Good. You‘re such a good boy, Alice.“

Clack. BAM!

The stall next to him got kicked open and Alice shrieked so loud his own ears rang.

There were different sounds in the hallway now. The hectic slap slap slap of soft soled shoes hurrying over linoleum floors. The bathroom door getting wedged open. A concerned: „Honey, everything all right in here?“

The lights seemed dimmer, all of a sudden.

“Darlin‘.“ The sweet nurse who had taken care of him in those last two weeks knocked at his stall door. „Please open up for me, will you.“

Alice ripped some toilet paper from the roll, wiped hastily over his face and opened the door the tiniest bit. Peeking trough the gap with a forced smile.

„Perfectly alright Miss.“

Warm eyes narrowed in disbelieve. Her lashes stuck together with to much mascara and Alice couldn‘t help but find it charming.

„Suspicion suits you really well, has anyone ever told you that? Brings out the green little speckles in your eyes.“

A small snort escaped her, lips quirking into a half smile. „Aren‘t we a lil charm today?“

„That‘s what you love about me.“ He shot a finger-gun, thin wrist sticking out from behind the small gap. If she noticed how much it still shook, than she graciously ignored it.

„Alright honey. I‘ll let you finish your business, than.“

Watchful eyes caught the faltering of his smile, the twitch of tear bright eyes flitting from her round face to the other restroom stalls and back.

„Would you mind if I wait in front of your stall door honey?“ She gave him a conspiratorial wink. Brown curls bouncing with the dip of her head. „I could really use a break from that wretched head nurse breathing down my neck for a second.“

„My pleasure to assist you.“ Alice whispered shakily. The jest absent from his voice. „Please.“

The stall door closed with a soft click and the only sound he heard this time were the nurses even breaths.

[xhanisai]

Asexual ask anon and honestly I'm not sure why I asked that thing..... I'd like to read some thing about it tho

Lel have no worries~ Here’s a little drabble!

~(x)~

For the umpteenth time, Ladybug wrinkled her nose as she observed the rich view from the top of the eiffel tower- more like glared. She was so deep into her thoughts that she didn’t even acknowledge her partner’s presence when he dropped by, performing a new aerobatic trick that went unseen much to his dismay.

It took him three weeks to perfect that move...

“Don’t mind me. Just a lonely cat stalking by...��� Chat Noir teased out loud, snapping the heroine out of her daze. His smirk grew as she fumbled with her words and hands before settling on an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, Chaton.” She took his outstretched hand and allowed the boy to lift her up to her feet till they were both standing side by side. 

“No big deal, I’ll just have to find another purrrfect meowment before showing you the cool trick I did. Maybe the next akuma attack?” Ladybug couldn’t help but slap his shoulder playfully as he waggled his eyebrows, trying her best to not giggle.

He so knew she was laughing internally anyways, feeding his already larger than life ego.

“Go on, I dare you, and then you better run afterwards because I will throttle you with that belt tail of yours.” She retorted back with jest.

“Meowch! How kinky~” 

His response didn’t receive the usual snort or groan. Much to the feline hero’s surprise, a deeper grimace was written on his partner’s face. 

“Ladybug? Is something wrong? Did I go too far-”

“Ah! No, no. It’s not you at all Chat.” 

Noir only raised a brow at her flustered response.

“You better not hit me with the ‘Oh no, it’s not you, it’s me!’ crap.” He gestured dramatically, pretending to swoon on the spot and proceeding to fan himself. That got Ladybug giggling this time and the lovesick boy inside of him pumped his fist up with joy.

“But it is! Really,” 

“Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know...I don’t want to seem weird...”

“Well, you’d have to be weird enough to tolerate me for a start.”

“Chat Noir! I’m trying to be serious here!” Ladybug laughed again, leaning against his shoulder this time. 

The duo chuckled and joked back and forth a few more times before sitting down on one of the tower’s many beams.

“Okay, now we got that out of our system, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” His attempt at poking her forehead ended with a swat on his hand. “Hey- rude! Hmmph. What got you thinking so hard that you ended up missing my fabulous entry~?”

Silence showed its face in the atmosphere afresh but only for a moment. Ladybug fiddled with her fingers, exhaling, only to find her fidgeting hands grasped by a larger pair in a soothing grip. 

She felt the tension escape her shoulders as his thumb rubbed circles on her hands and his non-judging smile never left his lips.

“I...What do you think about...sex?” 

Comically, Chat Noir’s face flushed redder than a tomato at sonic speed and his faux ears and tail struck up like a scaredy cat. If he had fur, it would have bristled up too. His Lady almost laughed. Almost.

“Wha- Ah- ERM...WHAT!?” Sweat started to accumulate on his forehead and the boy couldn’t do anything but turn his face to the side with an awkward laugh, ripping one of his hands away from hers to itch his nose nervously.

“Keep your fur on, Chat. It’s just a simple question.” Ladybug rolled her eyes fondly, squashing down a giggle at his protesting squacks. 

“My Lady! Stop teasing me...” His pout prompted her to finally laugh out loud, hand now covering his embarassed face. “And...regarding your...question?” Her laugh died down.

Ladybug cleared her throat and nodded, beckoning the boy to carry on along with a supportive squeeze on his hand.

“I won’t lie- I am a typical teen under the mask. I...ehem...I do find the idea appealing and...would like to try it one day with someone I love and cherish,” Ladybug gulped at his soft answer, her eyes able to glimpse the hidden words behind his eyes.

‘With you...’

She peered down with a grimace, tightening her hold on his hand. The way she darkened didn’t go unnoticed to the boy clad in black.

“I-I-Is that so? You don’t find it...strange?” Her voice wavered towards the end of the sentence that Chat couldn’t help but lay a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“My Lady, what do you think about it?” He felt the way her muscles tensed under his hold and the way her eyes darted around anywhere but at him.

“Well, just like you, I’m curious too.”

The silence that followed afterwards bordered on tense and awkward before the taller of the two decided to break it.

“The truth, please. I’m your partner, you can trust me with anything. Unless you pour in milk before the cereal, I won’t judge you for anything- cat’s honour,” The scoff he got from her warmed up the atmosphere once more, much to their delight.

With another deep sigh, Ladybug proceeded.

“Ever since...from the beginning...I’ve never really found it appealing? To me, it’s just...baby-making!” Her last word caused Chat to bark out laughing, nodding his head to her in agreement.

“Oh my God you’re absolutely right! Keep going!” He received a few more slaps on the shoulder from Ladybug till the mock scowl was wiped off her face.

“As I was saying, before somebody rudely laughed-” Another playful slap. “It’s just nothing special to me. My friends would always talk about boobs, butts, chests, and so on but I just never cared? Also, the idea of other people’s genitals coming anywhere near me just grosses me out. What if they don’t clean up properly after leaving the bathroom? What if they have STDs?” 

It took everything for Chat to stifle down his laughter as he nodded along, finding himself agreeing with her moreso. 

“You’re absolutely right, sex is gross. Everything about it is gross, we’re all gross. But I find myself liking it despite all that,” Chat added as Ladybug pinched his nose. 

“Like the true alley cat you are,” She let go, smiling brighter than she has been for days when the dilemma struck her. “I don’t judge anyone for liking it. I’ve heard about how good it supposedly feels and that it’s the epitome of love itself...but I feel like I’d be judged for not being interested in it. That I’ll be seen as that one weird girl with no sex drive and squander any hopes I had for dating.” 

Ah, so that’s the problem.

Time to solve it~

With a loving gaze, Chat kissed the back of her hand sweetly, catching the swift blush that met his Lady’s cheeks before she turned her head away to avoid looking at him. 

“Say Bugaboo, how would you describe love?” This time, it was her turn for her face to flare up like his did a while ago, sneaking her hand away from his smiling lips and hugging her knees to herself.

“W-Why would you ask something like that?”

“Just answer the question, Little Bug~” 

“Ugh! Fine,” Slapping her cheeks lightly- Which Noir found utterly adorable- Ladybug faced him. “Love, to me, is warm, makes your heart race, makes you do the most stupidest things, risk everything and make your insides go to mush.” 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You disagree?”

“Nope, as a matter of fact, I agree. However, I personally find love quite freeing, like a fire set ablaze in my heart-”

“Pfft what are? A poet-”

“-LIKE, electricity running through my veins, like home...” The way his eyes glistened tenderly made Ladybug’s heart skip a beat or two, much to her dismay.

“O-oh. Okay. So what was the point of that?”

“The point is, love is subjective. Like art.” His answer started to make sense to her. “Some people would find lovemaking as the peak of love. But, others may find that simply watching the way the sun brings out the eyes of their lover’s as the peak instead. I won’t sugarcoat it, there will always be judgemental people out there in the world but as long as you don’t let it get to you, everything should be fine. I definitely don’t judge you.”

A beautiful smile took place on Ladybug’s lips and her eyes shimmered with happiness. The acceptance and sweet words did well to alleviate her early concerns.

“So you don’t think I have to have experience before making a decision about whether or not I like sex?” 

“I don’t have experience and I supposedly like it.” Chat winked. “It’s a matter of bumping uglies- I think you’re rather sane for staying away from that.” The duo dissolved into giggles. 

“You flatter me, pfft!” 

“Ooh and also! I have a few older friends in my civilian life who are experienced. They all told me that apparently, sex isn’t all that,” The cat boy let his thoughts drift back to Luka and his friends from the nearby Lycee. “It’s over romanticised, short and pretty awkward as hell. Some even regret rushing into it and I think one of them described it as ‘false advertising’.”

“Really? Wow...I never realised that I’m not alone as I thought...” 

“Duh? You can’t get rid of me even if you resort to murder.” Chat flopped on her lap like his namesakes, face now peering up at hers and his cheeky smile only broadened when Ladybug sighed in mock defeat, digging her fingers through his soft tendrils. 

“Plus, you gotta speak up more instead of moping in the corner. You can’t know for sure if you’re alone if you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling.” This time, they both exchanged a true, soft smile. 

“Thank you, Chaton. You really do know how to make my day,” Ladybug dipped down to kiss his forehead, mouth quirking up into a smile as she felt him jolt before pulling away. 

“I-I-It’s just the truth...” Chat stammered, a lovesick smile draped on his face. “You’re valid and amazing and beautiful, just t-t-the way you are...don’t ever change for the sake of others,” 

“And same for you,”

~(x)~

I hope you enjoyed! I myself am not ace so I hope I’ve managed to write down the community’s feelings correctly. I have a couple of friends who are though and their reasonings behind it revolved around what I’ve written? Regardless, have a nice day!

[iwriterpstarters]

200 sentence starters

part 5

“I gave them the city, and most of them were too frightened to take it.”

“I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me.”

“Woman, you bray like an ass, and make no more sense.”  

“Woman? Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man.”

“I say, you are mad.”  

“To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?”  

“I would call that proof of his sincerity.”

“All loyalties are uncertain in such times as these.”

“And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love.”

“But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!”

“Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed.”

“How could he do that? Did his wife treat him so ill?”  

“It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother’s heart, Your Grace.”

“The Princess was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate.”

“But I am not certain it was in him to be happy.”  

“You make him sound so sour.”

“Not sour, no, but... there was a melancholy to the Prince, a sense...”

“A sense... of doom.”

“He/She was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him/her all life.”  

“It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?”  

“And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best.”

“He/She would go there from time to time, with only a harp for company.”

“Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him/her there.”

“He/She liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he/she came back it was with a song.”

“It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means ‘Mother.’”

“Fire consumes.”

“It consumes, and when it is done there is nothing left. Nothing.”  

“Sweet friend. What are you saying?”  

“Nothing I have not said before.”

“Six times, ___? Six times is too many.”

“I dreamt a wolf howling in the rain, but no one heard his grief.”

“I dreamt such a clangor I thought my head might burst, drums and horns and pipes and screams, but the saddest sound was the little bells.”

“I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs.”

“I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow.”[<- probably sansa] She turned her head sharply and smiled through the gloom, right at Arya.

“You cannot hide from me, child. Come closer, now.”

“I see you, wolf child. Blood child. I thought it was the lord who smelled of death...”

“You are cruel to come to my hill, cruel.”

“I gorged on grief at Summerhall, I need none of yours. Begone from here, dark heart!”  

“My lady? You have a baseborn brother... ”  

“He’s with the Night’s Watch on the Wall.”

“Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun.”

“___ wouldn’t care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair...”

“___ looks like me, even though he’s bastard-born.”

“He used to muss my hair and call me ‘little sister.’”

“Just saying his name makes me sad.”

“I wanted to be alone, away from all the voices, away from their hollow words and broken promises.”

“Once, at the Citadel, I came into an empty room and saw an empty chair.”

“Yet I knew a woman had been there, only a moment before.”

“If we leave our smells behind us when we leave a room, surely something of our souls must remain when we leave this life?”

“There’s the wench I remember.”

“You gave her a tourney sword.”  

“I’ll pay her bloody ransom. Gold, sapphires, whatever you want. Pull her out of there.”  

“You want her? Go get her.”  

“Well, what in seven hells do I do now?”

“I ought to lop my left hand off as well, for all the good it does me.”  

“And I’ll serve you the same if you give me trouble.”

“We’re taking the wench.”  

“Her name is ___.”

“I am grateful, but... you were well away. Why come back?”  

“I dreamed of you.”

“First I anger Brother, and now my son, but all I have done is speak the truth.”

“Are men so fragile they cannot bear to hear it?”

“My lord husband is dead, as is my father.”

“Two of my sons have been murdered, my daughter has been given to a faithless dwarf to bear his vile children, my other daughter is vanished and likely dead, and my last son and my only brother are both angry with me.”

“My children sons are dead and daughters lost. What could possibly be amiss?”

“She-bears, aye. We have needed to be.”

“The men would be off fishing, like as not. The wives they left behind had to defend themselves and their children, or else be carried off.”  

“Is this my punishment for opposing him about his brother? Or for being a woman, and worse, a mother?”

“I left my wife at Riverrun. I want my mother elsewhere.”

“If you keep all your treasures in one purse, you only make it easier for those who would rob you.”

“After the wedding, you shall go to Seagard, that is my royal command.”

“That had ended when father decided it was making me soft as a girl.”

“But if you’re stupid enough to try again, I’ll hurt you.”  

“Why don’t you just kill me like you did Mycah?”

“The next time you say that name I’ll beat you so bad you’ll wish I killed you.”  

“Even a fish might have trouble in this river.”

“Still, drowning might be better than King’s Landing.”

“Don’t even think about it.”  

“Then I’ll take as much gold as I can carry, laugh in his face, and ride off.”

“If he doesn’t take me, he’d be wise to kill me, but he won’t.”

“Too much his father’s son, from what I hear.”

“Fine with me. Either way I win.”

“So stop whimpering and snapping at me, I’m sick of it.”

“Keep your mouth shut and do as I tell you, and maybe we’ll even be in time for your uncle’s bloody wedding.”

“Be gentle with yourself.”

“It is good that you have woken, but you must give yourself time to heal.”

“We drowned the wound with boiling wine, and closed you up with a poultice of nettle, mustard seed and moldy bread, but unless you rest...”

“If we are offered refreshment when we arrive, on no account refuse.”

“Take what is offered, and eat and drink where all can see. If nothing is offered, ask for bread and cheese and a cup of wine.”  

“I’m more wet than hungry...”  

“Listen to me. Once you have eaten of his bread and salt, you have the guest right, and the laws of hospitality protect you beneath his roof.”  

“I have an army to protect me, Mother, I don’t need to trust in bread and salt.”

“But if it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, I’ll eat it and ask for a second bowl.”  

“Keep your eyes down and your tone respectful and say ser a lot, and most knights will never see you.”

“They pay more mind to horses than to smallfolk.”

“He might have known Stranger if he’d ever seen me ride him.”

“No one sang the words, but I knew ‘The Rains of Castamere’ when I heard it.”

“I will kill the old man, I can do that much at least.”  

“It hurts so much. Our children, all our sweet babes.”

“Please, make it stop, make it stop hurting...”

“Mad. She’s lost her wits.”

“No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, ___loves my hair.”

“Come with me. We have to get away from here, and now.”

“We have to go get my mother.”

“I am sorry, my lord.”  

“Why? Some cook should be sorry. Not you. The pease are not your province.”

“They are green and round, what more can one expect of pease? Here, I’ll have another serving, if it please my lady.”

“That was stupid. Now I have to eat them all, or she’ll be sorry all over again.”

“I won’t intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there.”

“Kings are falling like leaves this autumn.” “

“It would seem our little war is winning itself.”  

“Write to Lord Frey and tell him. The king commands. I’m going to have it served to ___ at my wedding feast.”  

“Sire, the lady is now your aunt by marriage.”  

“A jest. He did not mean it.”  

“He was a traitor, and I want his stupid head. I’m going to make Sansa kiss it.”

“She/He is no longer yours to torment. Understand that, monster.”  

“You’re the monster, Uncle.”  

“Perhaps you should speak more softly to me, then.”

“Monsters are dangerous beasts, and just now kings seem to be dying like flies.”

“Aerys also felt the need to remind men that he was king. And he was passing fond of ripping tongues out as well.”

“When your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet.”

“And any man who must say ‘I am the king’ is no true king at all.”

“When I’ve won your war for you, we will restore the king’s peace and the king’s justice.”

“Oh, my, hasn’t this gotten interesting?”

“___, apologize to your grandfather.”

“Why should I? Everyone knows it’s true.”

“My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock.”

“A strong king acts boldly, he doesn’t just talk.”  

“Thank you for that wisdom, Your Grace.”

“I don’t want any dreamwine.”

“Father, I am sorry. Joff has always been willful, I did warn you...”  

“There is a long league’s worth of difference between willful and stupid.”

“‘A strong king acts boldly?’ Who told him that?”  

“Not me, I promise you.”

“The part about you hiding under Casterly Rock does sound like ___.”

“And what were you telling him, pray? I did not fight a war to seat Robert the Second on the Iron Throne.”

“You gave me to understand the boy cared nothing for his father.”  

“Why would he? Robert ignored him.”

“He would have beat him if I’d allowed it.”

“That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat.”

“I told him I’d kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things...”  

“It appears things needed to be said.”

“Not Robert the Second. Aerys the Third.”  

“The boy is thirteen. There is time yet.”

“That’s unlike him; he’s more upset than he wishes to show.”

“He requires a sharp lesson.”  

“Wars are won with quills and ravens, wasn’t that what you said?”

“I must congratulate you. How long have you and Walder Frey been plotting this?”  

“I mislike that word.”

“And I mislike being left in the dark.”  

“There was no reason to tell you. You had no part in this.”

“No one was told, save those who had a part to play.”

“And they were only told as much as they needed to know.”

“You ought to know that there is no other way to keep a secret - here, especially.”

“My object was to rid us of a dangerous enemy as cheaply as I could, not to indulge your curiosity or make your sister feel important.”

“You have a certain cunning, but the plain truth is you talk too much.”

“That loose tongue of yours will be your undoing.”  

“You should have let Joff tear it out.”  

“You would do well not to tempt me.”

“Oh? Is this something I’m allowed to know, or should I leave so you can discuss it with yourself?”

“A tool for every task, isn’t that how it works? My tool is yours, Father.”

“Never let it be said that my House blew its trumpets and I did not respond.”

“I was made to suffer my father’s follies. I will not suffer yours. Enough.”

“Very well, as you ask so pleasantly.”

“It might serve, but the Snake will not be happy.”

“Far be it from me to question your cunning, father, but in your place I do believe I’d have let Robert Baratheon bloody his own hands.”

“I grant you, it was done too brutally.”

“The Princess need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”  

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?”  

“Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all.”

“I had more pressing concerns.”

“That was the thing I feared most.”

“Nor did I yet grasp what I had in The Mountain, only that he was huge and terrible in battle.”

“If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.”

“So Lord Walder slew him under his own roof, at his own table?”

“Slain as well, I’d say. A pair of wolfskins.”

“Frey had intended to keep her captive, but perhaps something went awry.”  

“So much for guest right.”  

“The blood is on his hands, not mine.”

“Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner.”

“I had not forgotten, though I’d hoped you had.”

“I am not seeing the body, no, Your Kingliness.”

“Yet in the city, the lions prance and dance.”

“The Red Wedding, the smallfolk are calling it.”

“I was sick unto death of this wretched boy before he was even born.”

“His very name is a roaring in my ears and a dark cloud upon my soul.”

“He is mine own blood. Stop clutching me, woman.”

“And small men curse what they cannot understand.”  

“So tell me why you need this boy to wake your great stone dragon, my lady.”

“Only death can pay for life, my lord.”

“A great gift requires a great sacrifice.”

“Even an onion smuggler knows two onions from three. You are short a king, my lady/lord.”  

“He/She has you there, my lady. Two is not three.”

“A certain Lysene pirate once told me that a good smuggler stays out of sight.”

“Black sails, muffled oars, and a crew that knows how to hold their tongues.”  

“A crew with no tongues is even better. Big strong mutes who cannot read or write.”

“But I am glad to know that someone watches your back, old friend.”

“Will the king give the boy to the red priestess, do you think?”

“One little dragon could end this great big war.”

[puthyflapps]

NFWMB chapter three

TW: This chapter has graphic mentions of violence. Read at your own risk.

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Clarke watches on wide-eyed as the angry man grasps his injured forearm. She can hear him mumbling expletives under his breath as blood gushes out of the fresh cut. The blonde turns her terrified gaze to the woman locked away in the cage with her, “Raven!” She chastises. She shouldn’t have done that, it’ll only make him angrier. The Latina should’ve just let him take Clarke. There’s no telling what he’ll do now. 

The two omegas watch as the enraged alpha quickly rips at the material of his shirt fabricating a tourniquet for his wound. Clarke can hardly breathe with the amount of angry pheromones rolling off the man. It's taking everything in her not to crawl to one of the four corners of the cage and submit. She had certainly not expected this turn of events when the alpha had first appeared.

The man had shown up at their enclosure with fire in his eyes and flung the makeshift door open almost taking it off the hinges. Clarke had prepared herself for the onslaught of abuse coming her way when she felt him fist a clump of her hair but, the abuse never came. The next thing she remembers is the grip on her blonde locks quickly loosening and the smell of iron permeating the air around her.

The pale omega had whipped her head around to find Raven with a white-knuckle grip on a piece of jagged, bloody shrapnel. Clarke had no idea where exactly the Latina had gotten the metal from or how she’d managed to conceal it for so long. She had felt grateful at first for the caramel-skinned girl’s quick thinking but now, sitting there petrified of what the alpha may do next, she regrets her friend’s rash decision to attack him. The omegas watch carefully as the man retreats out of the pen, making sure he locks it so they can’t escape, before pausing to mumble menacingly, “You're gonna pay for this.”

———————————————————————————————————

Night falls on the girls as they find themselves huddled together in an effort to conserve their warmth. The day had been a long and strenuous one and after the earlier events all the omegas wanted to do was rest. They’d had quite the argument after the alpha made his exit. Clarke had chewed Raven out for her stupid act of bravery and Raven had argued back that something had been different this time. The Latina had gone on and on about the look in his eyes and the way he smelled, citing it was like nothing she’d experienced before. The thought made Clarke uneasy so she had settled for just reminding the other omega that they were all each other had and they couldn’t risk that by starting fights with hardheaded alphas.

It was hard to explain but Clarke felt connected to Raven in a way. It was like they shared a bond all their own and perhaps that came from their situation or maybe they were always meant to find their way into each other’s lives. The blonde had never really had friends on the ark. If people didn’t want to be her friend because of her mother’s station then it was because she was an omega. The young woman had spent years wondering what it would be like to have a friend and now she finally knows albeit the circumstances aren’t the best. However, she truly believes that if it weren’t for Raven she would’ve lost her mind by now.

“Princess, you’re thinking so hard I can smell the smoke coming out of your ears,” the small, tan woman says before rolling over so the two are face to face. Clarke can’t help the tears that well up in her cerulean eyes, “I’m sorry…I’m just…thank you for saving me earlier.”

“It’s what friends do, Clarke. Besides, he was off his rocker more than usual and there was no way I was gonna let him touch either of us,” Raven says reaching up to wipe a lone tear from the blonde’s cheek.

“You’re my best friend, Raven.”

“I’m your only friend, Princess,” the omega jests. The two share a laugh despite the circumstances surrounding the day before snuggling further into each other to conserve body heat as the temperature around them slowly drops. Clarke can feel small pieces of gravel digging into her side as she tries to rest. The blonde is just on the cusp of sleep when she hears metal rattling in the distance. She’s so exhausted that she can’t even manage to crack a single eyelid open to see where the noise came from. Tightening her grip on her fellow omega Clarke attempts to block out any and all sounds.

The tired girl manages to get a minute or two of sleep before she’s startled awake by a sudden jerk and the sound of screams. Her eyes shoot open and lock on the large form of the alpha from earlier. He has a strong and most certainly, painful grip on one of Raven’s ankles as he attempts to drag her out of the cage. The Latina flails around desperately trying to get ahold of something, anything that would provide her some kind of leverage to escape. She tries to dig her fingers into the earth beneath her but the man is so strong that it barely slows him down. 

“Clarke, help me, please!” she screams in an effort to shock the pale omega back into reality. He’s almost made it to the door of the enclosure before Clarke shakes herself out of her entranced state. She springs to her feet before taking off in the alpha’s direction. She slams her tiny body against his and its enough to temporarily knock him off balance and allow her to grab ahold of her friend’s hands. The blonde is able to drag Raven a few feet back into the pen. The amount and intensity of the pheromones make Clarke want to drop to her knees and submit. It takes everything in the omega not to release her grip on the tan omega and bare her neck.

The powerful alpha stalks toward the omegas like they were prey and him, the predator. She can hear him growling louder and louder with each heavy step he takes. She has nowhere to go, her back to the chainlink of the cage. Her hands begin to sweat and her mouth goes dry. He rears back his fist before sending it crashing towards her face. Clarke can feel her nose crack on impact and she can taste iron as blood pours down into her mouth. He sends another punch plummeting towards her. This time it connects with her jaw and God, she thinks it might be broken. The Omega can feel the metal of the fencing cutting into her back as her knees go weak and she slides to the hard ground.

Clarke is fighting a losing battle with her mind. Her head feels like its swimming and everything sounds far away. She can just barely feel the calloused skin of Raven’s palm leave her hand as the alpha tears the two apart. Blackness starts to creep its way into her vision and she can’t tell up from down. He leans in close to her face and whispers menacingly, “Learn your place, omega.” The alpha casts a harsh slap across her face, busting the blonde’s thin lip open before returning his attention to the other woman. The last thing she can hear before darkness consumes her and she slips into unconsciousness is Raven’s screams as the man drags her out of the pen.  

———————————————————————————————————————

Clarke jolts awake causing pain to shoot through her injured ribs at the sudden movement. Her breathing is heavy as she looks around trying to figure out where she is. The last thing she remembers is staring into green eyes before passing out in that man’s tent. Her heart begins to race as she looks around the enormous tent she now lays in. How did I get here she asks to herself as she takes in the details of the pseudo bedroom. In the corner sits a wooden table with several maps covering the face of it, along with what appears to be weapons — swords mainly.

She smells her before she sees her. The scent of pine and something else she just can’t put her finger on fills her nostrils. She turns to see the female alpha from earlier entering through the flaps of the tent with what looks to be a platter of food. The blonde feels her mouth watering at the sight of the meats and cheeses but she knows better than to expect the alpha to even think about sharing with her. The Omega watches as the brunette sets the platter down before turning her attention to the woman resting in her bed.

“How long have you been awake?” She asks curiously.

“Not long,” the omega answers quietly. Lexa smiles kindly at her before taking careful steps toward the bed. She stops when she notices Clarke’s body seize up in fear at being in such close proximity to her. The alpha nervously shifts her weight between her two feet before speaking up, “You fell asleep in Niko’s tent so I brought you back to mine so no one would bother you. I hope that is okay.” She receives no answer from the small woman so she tries again, “Anya retrieved some clothes for you. Would you like to change into them?” A few moments pass before Lexa receives her answer in the form of a curt nod.

Lexa moves to the foot of the large bed where an intricately carved, wood chest resides. Picking up the articles of clothing her General brought her, she resumes her slow walk towards the skittish woman. The green-eyed woman places them gently in front of the omega and takes a seat on the bed with her back facing the other woman to offer her some privacy. Clarke makes no moves to get dressed, instead choosing to shift her glance between the outfit and the alpha who gave it to her. She can’t help but think it is a test of some kind. That as soon as she reaches out to touch the material the alpha will punish her. She casts another wary look at the alpha’s back prompting Lexa to turn around and speak up, “Would you like some help, Klark?”

Silence falls between them as Clarke contemplates her answer. Deciding that nothing worse could happen to her today, she throws caution to the wind and nods her head at the alpha. Lexa smiles sheepishly at the blonde as she nervously wipes her palms against the rough material of her pants. Tan hands reach out to push away the jacket they’d wrapped around the pale body earlier in the day. Lexa has to stop herself from running her fingertips over the exposed skin of the girl’s shoulders. She swallows harshly, casting her emerald eyes up to watch the woman���s face as she asks if she can remove her top. 

“…Yes,” Clarke replies meekly. The omega feels strong hands take hold of the tattered material of what was left of her shirt and begin to tug it over her head. The blonde can't help the hiss that escapes her lips at the strain put on her ribs.

“Moba,” Lexa whispers apologetically as she tosses the discarded material on the bed. She tries her best to keep the blush from rising to her face at the sight of the omega’s chest. Her breasts are concealed by bindings but it's enough to make the alpha’s mouth run dry. Clarke reaches out to grab the new shirt and hands it to a flustered Lexa. Reaching out the alpha takes the shirt from the omega and proceeds to slip the material over the blonde’s head. The brunette smiles when she sees blue eyes pop through the head hole of the shirt.

“Hei,” Lexa greets when the rest of Clarke’s head comes through the fabric. The omega giggles at the soft alpha before replying, hi, and slipping the rest of her torso into the garment. 

The blonde is so malnourished that the shirt appears extremely oversized on her body. The material comes all the way down to rest above her knees so Lexa foregoes removing the omega’s shorts (it might also have something to do with the fact that being that having her hands that close to the omega’s sex might send her into cardiac arrest).

“Thank you,” Clarke mumbles.

“You are welcome. I had some food prepared for us, would you like some?” The Commander receives her answer when she hears the girl’s stomach rumble at the mention of a meal. The tan woman reaches out her arms to help the omega out of the bed but settles for just carrying her to the table once she sees how unsteady her legs are. Lexa gently lowers the petite omega onto a chair at the table and moves the platter of food in front of her before taking a seat beside her. Several minutes of silence pass between them as Clarke makes no move to eat any of the offered food causing Lexa to speak up, “Do you not like this food? I can send for someone to get you something else, fruit perhaps-”

“No! I mean…I like it, I just…omegas aren’t supposed to eat first. We’re not even supposed to sit at the table. I am so sorry,” she rushes out trying to get to her feet and take her place on the ground by the alpha’s feet. God, how stupid could she be to forget such a simple rule. She’s lucky the alpha didn’t strike her down where she sat for being so arrogant. 

She takes a seat on the ground and waits for the alpha to begin eating and hopes there will be scraps left over that she can munch on. She doesn’t expect for the alpha to place the platter on the ground in front of her and she surely doesn’t expect the brunette to take a seat across from her.

“Why do your people believe that alphas should eat first, Clarke?” Lexa asks as she picks up a piece of dried meat and tops it with cheese before handing it to the blonde, signaling for her to eat it.

“I don’t know…those are the rules. Omegas eat last. If you eat before the alphas you’re punished,” Clarke answers before biting into the food at Lexa’s urging. The delicious flavors enveloping her mouth make her eyes roll back in her head and a moan escapes her lips. 

“And how were you punished?” The alpha asks fixing the blonde another piece of food. Lexa is trying her best to remain calm and not release a growl at the thought of alphas refusing omegas food.

“Raven and I-” 

“Reivon? Is that your friend?”

“Yes,…we were…we were um…I shouldn’t tell you. If he finds out I told you anything, he’ll hurt you too,” the omega croaks out. Lexa pumps out soothing pheromones, handing her a piece of bread to eat this time.

“Who is ‘he’?”

———————————————————————————————————————

“Bellamy! Please, stop! PLEASE!” The Latina screams as the alpha drags her through the forest. They must’ve been walking for an hour at least and the burning pain in her leg has only gotten worse with every step. The omega’s wrists are bound and the rope is tied so tight that it cuts into her skin. Her screams do nothing but anger him even more. He yanks on the rope sending her unsteady body crashing to the ground. She can feel her forehead connect with a rock causing the thin skin of her head to split.

The golden-skinned woman can feel herself being dragged along the forest floor when she doesn’t get up. Rocks, sticks, and thorns slice into her skin as the man pulls her along. She has no idea where he’s taking her but she’s sure when they get there she won't survive whatever it is he is going to do to her. Bellamy had been nothing but a ball of rage since Clarke had managed to escape earlier in the day. He had been on a warpath since returning to their campsite and finding the other omega missing. The alpha had grabbed Raven by the throat and thrown her up against the cage wall stating he was going to make an example of her.

The omega feels the man beginning to slow down and she’s thankful for the slightest pause. She has no idea where she is, they’re so deep into the woods that its impossible to tell left from right. Her head is throbbing and the shooting pain in her leg is almost unbearable. She can feel herself getting so close to unconsciousness but its overshadowed by the feeling of being dragged again. This time he only pulls her a couple feet before stopping. 

“Please, Bellamy,” she whispers as her eyes barely manage to focus on the man as he throws the rope binding her wrists together over a tree branch. He begins to pull, using the branch as leverage to raise the omega up until they’re just about eye level with one another. The position puts so much strain on her shoulders that she’s sure the extremities are close to dislocating. She can feel her body suspended in the air, floating between life and death as the alpha begins to cut away at what little material she has left of her clothes. With her naked form exposed to him, she pleads one more time, “…Please.”

The blood from her forehead runs down her face and mixes with tears as she sobs. He places his large hand around her throat giving it a squeeze as he leans in to whisper, “I am going to break you.”

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Trigedasleng translations

Moba: sorry

Hei: hi

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[anxious-patton]

A Grand Gesture

This was based off of a prompt from @sandersandthesides

Summary: "Virgil just had a panic attack and Princey attempts a joking insult but accidentally makes it worse so he does everything he can to make up for it?”

Word Count: 1605

Pairing: Virgil / Roman (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Trigger Warnings: anxiety attacks, a lot of self deprecation, cycling thoughts

Tag List: @jiyudreamer @justanotherpurplebutterfly @artistictaurean @didsomeonesayprince let me know if you would like to be added!

Half an hour. Half an hour it had taken to regulate his breathing, to stop the heart palpitations and remind himself that he wasn’t going to die, that he couldn’t die. And still after a further half hour, his body was tense, movements jittery and sharp, his hands still trembled. It was all just so aggravating after a point. What Virgil wouldn’t give for the attacks to stop. To never feel that hot, numbing dread fill him again. It had been made worse this time by the fact that his phone lay forgotten in the kitchen, and he had been paralysed and unable to move for the best part of an hour with no distractions and nothing to help calm him save for his own grounding techniques. And sometimes they could only do so much.

Finally, Virgil managed to uncurl himself, stiff and sore from tension, and take a few shaky steps to the door of his room. He pulled his hoodie strings tight, gripping them so hard that his knuckles turned white. He didn’t want them to see him like this, to realise how pathetic and weak he truly was. And if they did notice him, he didn’t particularly want to see their reactions.

Creeping down the hallway, the anxious trait could hear their voices from the commons. Patton playfully teasing Logan with science puns, the latter varying between groaning and trying to explain why the jokes were entirely illogical. And Roman, of course, was singing. Judging by the way his voice faded slightly then increased in volume again, he was dancing too. And in the background, Moana was playing. The noises muddled with Virgil’s own thoughts, grating on his already heightened nerves. Not that he minded Patton and Logan’s playful arguments or Roman’s singing. And Moana was a fantastic film with some really cool, dark theories at its core. But right now he just needed calm and quiet, and time to stop the vicious cycling his own head was already putting him through.

Just a few more steps and he would have his phone. He could blast his music and try to tune out entirely. He was so focused on his mission, in fact, that he didn’t even notice that Roman’s singing was suddenly very close. That is, until he collided with Roman himself, crashing against his chest, bringing his dramatic rendition of ‘How Far I’ll Go’ to an abrupt end.

A moment of horrified silence, then:

“Hey, deep, dark, and depressing. You threw off my groove!”

Virgil gulped, instantly looking down at his feet, fists clenching, chest tightening, breath cutting short. Once again, he had ruined their fun. He had probably managed to ruin whatever friendship he was beginning to form with Roman, and the other side had been working so hard to make sure he felt welcome. This was how he repaid him? Ruining their movie night, smashing into him mid song. He felt Roman’s hand on his wrist. Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t bring himself to look up in order to find out. He was a bother. He was a nuisance, a pest, a disorder. And how could a disorder ever truly be accepted, be loved?

The movie played on in the background. Patton and Logan continued their debate, Logan talking over him from time to time and every noise, every line of dialogue, the chatter between his friends, and Roman was talking too but he couldn’t hear a word clearly. He just knew it was loud, loud, loud, and everything was just getting too much, too much, too MUCH!

Tearing his arm out of Princey’s grip, Virgil turned and did what he did best. He fled. Speeding down the hallway, slamming the door to his room shut behind him and sliding down the wall to settle in a corner of his room, tucked up in a tight ball, hands fisted in his hair, tugging harshly. 

Roman hated him. He had always hated him. Because anything good or happy or pure, he always managed to mess up. When had he started crying? He was used to this. Used to not being enough, used to being unloved and unwanted. So why was he crying now? Loud, horrible sobbing ripping from his throat, leaving it feeling raw and tight. He couldn’t breathe right. He tried counting, but he couldn’t focus on the numbers. All he could think about was every horrible thing he had ever said or done to one of his counterparts, especially Roman. How many times had he been blatantly mean to him, rejecting his ideas, pulling them apart, arguing over nothing just to spite him.

The shadows around Virgil seemed to deepen, his eyeshadow darkening as his room adjusted to and exacerbated his heightened state. Exactly what it had seemed to do to the others when they had come to retrieve him, honing in on their fears and insecurities and bringing them to the forefront of their minds. And for the literal embodiment of anxiety, that could be a dangerous thing.

  He leaned into the wall next to him, too shaky, too tense to keep himself supported upright. Having something to lean on gave him one less thing to worry about as his mind spiralled through every possible outcome of this situation. Roman would have told the others by now, they would know how much of a killjoy he was, how much of a freak. He would lose the friendships he had worked so hard for so long to make. He would—

A gentle knock, almost inaudible over his own rapid, shaky breathing, over his tiny whimpers and gasps and sobs. And then, “Virgil…? You know, my dark knight, you needn’t suffer alone anymore. May I come in?”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but no words would pass his lips, seeming to get caught in his throat. He gulped, resting his forehead against his knees and trying to regulate his breathing before trying again, managing nothing but a squeak. Roman wanted to help. He had made an effort to come to his rescue and he couldn’t even speak to answer him.

The door creaked open slightly, “Virge, I… I’m coming in anyway. I can’t help feeling that I am to blame for this, and it is my duty to right this wrong-” Roman cut himself off, taking in the sight of his friend, curled in so tightly on himself, tears staining his face, smearing his make up. He closed the door behind him, crossing the room and settling down a few feet from the anxious trait. He hesitated, unsure of what to do next, “I… Oh, Virgil. I’m so sorry. Do you… Mind if I touch you? Hold your hand, even?”

Virgil hesitated a moment, taking a few deep breaths and holding out a shaking hand, pulling back slightly a moment later, “Y-… You don’t… Hate me…?” He slapped a hand over his mouth. Damn that echo to heck.

Realisation dawned on Roman and he stared at Virgil, heart aching. He sighed softly, moving to sit in front of the other, trying to catch his gaze, “You’re having an attack, aren’t you? Is that why you didn’t join us for movie night?” A slight nod, more tears, “And I yelled at you. I… I meant it in jest, but I hurt you in doing so. I must learn to think before I act. Virgil, you know I could never hate you. None of us could. You are so important to all of us.”

Virgil glanced down as both of Roman’s hands cupped his free one, giving a slight squeeze. He didn’t meet his eyes again. Not yet. “But I ruined your fun. I probably killed the atmosphere in there.”

“It felt wrong without you anyway,” Roman smiled, moving one hand to give Virgil’s knee a gentle squeeze, noting how much the other was still shaking. The next moment he found himself almost knocked back by his counterpart launching into his arms, letting out what must have been months, if not years of pent-up emotion out in the form of full body sobs, face buried against his shoulder. He gently wrapped his arms around the other, holding him, rocking him gently until his body stopped convulsing, his breaths became more regular, less gasping and choked.

Ever so gently, Roman gripped Virgil’s shoulders, pushing him back so they finally locked eyes. He smiled slightly, cupping his cheeks, “You’ve messed up your raccoon shadow, emo nightmare,” he chuckled, gently wiping at the smeared dark tracks, clearing away the evidence that he had been crying. “That is next level edgy. I doubt even you could handle it.”

To his surprise, Virgil actually laughed, playfully swatting at his hands, though his own still trembled. He gripped Roman’s sash, trying to quell the shaking, “Thanks, Princey. For… All of that.”

“What kind of a prince would leave a damsel in distress?” He smirked, standing and extending a hand to Virgil to pull him up, “Come on. You’re staying in my room tonight. We’re having our own movie night. Your choice.”

“Can we binge watch all of Gravity Falls?”

“Virgil, you look exhausted. I bet you don’t make it through the first season.”

“A bet? I like it. Winner gets to send texts to Patton and Logan from the loser’s phone.”

“Deal.”

By the end of the third episode, Virgil had fallen asleep with his head on Roman’s chest, calmed by his heartbeat with one hand still gripping his sash. Roman carefully turned the TV off, then the lights, and pulled him close. He never did hold Virgil to his end of the bet.

A/N:  Thank you so much for reading this, and to anyone who supported my last fic, ‘Matricaria Recutita’. I really appreciate every single one of you. And if anyone wants to submit prompts to me, feel free!