#he can write incredible things under supervision

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Two: The Gods' Light

IAemond Targaryen x Strong! Readerl

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Writing a child's inner dialogue was interesting. Besides being very plain and blunt, I didn't know how to write it. Writing for a child will be challenging, but I'm more than up for it. Enjoy reading! :)

Chapter Warnings: Aegon is psychotic, animal cruelty, just sibling things, Alicent being dululu.

As you hurried through the echoing halls of the Red Keep, your swift strides outpacing those of your brothers, you clutched a dragon egg close to your chest. You could feel its smooth, warm surface drumming with growing life beneath your fingers, determined not to let it slip from your grasp. The moment’s thrill spurred you on as you raced through the ancient corridors.

Moments ago, as you sat with Jace and Luke, enjoying a midday meal of goat cheese and dried meats, Ser Harwin suddenly appeared in the garden, out of breath from his hurried journey from Maegor’s Holdfast. He excitedly conveyed the news that your mother had just given birth. The announcement filled you with anticipation, eager to visit the Dragonpit and choose an egg from Syrax’s clutch for the new arrival.

You were restricted from visiting your dragon whenever you desired, making each visit to the Pit a momentous occasion. Gaelithox, your loyal mount, was only accessible during carefully organized training sessions under the vigilant supervision of the Keepers and your trusted protector. While you had made remarkable progress with your affectionate dragon, the Keepers could not trust you with it alone. 

Jace was still grappling with getting Vermax to heed simple commands. The memory of the Keepers urging your younger brother to stand firm and not yield to fear remained vivid. However, when the volatile olive-scaled juvenile lunged forward, Jace faltered and tumbled onto his back, leaving a lasting impression as Aegon and Aemond teased him for days. Unlike Aegon, whose voice echoed like a cackling witch from the tales your maids told before bed, you stifled laughter. Later that evening, your mother reprimanded you when Jace told the incident during supper, silently mouthing the words ‘tattletale’ to your slightly younger brother.

But none of that mattered now. Mother had a babe, and you desperately wished for a sister. It wasn’t that you disliked your brothers; it was just lonely. Jace and Luke shared their Septon with Aegon and Aemond, and you had Septa Marlow, your mother’s former teacher. It was so incredibly boring to sit there in silence with the old crone droning on and on about the duty of a high-born lady, different types of needlework, dances, manners, other Houses, and the importance of virtue, a word you had yet to understand the meaning of.

You asked your mother on more than one occasion to allow you to learn with Helaena, but she said no, saying something about how she was an odd girl with a fascination for unusual things. You didn’t understand why that was a bad trait. You liked how Helaena played with bugs, recalling the many times you counted the legs of crickets you found underneath rocks in the gardens for her. 

When the flowers of King’s Landing had blossomed in the spring, you pleaded with your mother to allow you to spend a day with Helaena in the Godswood. Spring brought out all the little creatures, and your Aunt was always chatty during this time. You fondly remember spending hours capturing beetles, crickets, dragonflies, grasshoppers, and numerous moths and butterflies. You ended up with so many of them that you barely had enough jars to take to your Aunt’s room.

The atmosphere was filled with joy until Aegon arrived. His usual confident stride was noticeably absent, and it was clear that he was not in good spirits. This was unusual, as Aegon was typically the epitome of happiness, and his distress weighed heavily on you. Acting on impulse, you beckoned him over. As he stood before you and his sister, his hands tucked in his pockets, you tried to cheer him up by sharing the day’s events with a hopeful smile. When you suggested showing him a butterfly, he nodded in agreement. You retrieved one carefully, handing it as gently as Helaena had taught you, being mindful not to harm its delicate wings.

You opened your palms slowly to show him. It was bright yellow with black markings, fluttering softly in your grasp. You told him to be careful as you tenderly placed it in Aegon’s hands and told him about the multiflora rose bush you found it from. Turning your head to show him where it was, Aegon crushed the butterfly in his fist, smashing the thinly winged insect as the off-white guts splattered across his palms. You couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing to something you and Helaena took great pride in, never mind that the creature was innocent of whatever hateful reasoning he had behind this. 

You recalled how Aegon wiped the remnants of the butterfly across your shocked face in finality and smiled the smile you hoped for, showing the crumpled, wiry black legs and torn shreds of paper-thin wings on his palm.

Helaena screamed. You can still remember the sound of it, piercing your ears and making them feel as if they bled. Aegon rubbed the tiny leftover specs of the carcass onto her head to get her to quiet, bellowing the same cackle he always did. After that, you couldn’t recall much, only a sudden anger you had never felt before, blurry vision, and being pulled off Aegon’s whimpering form. You were still unsure about how you found yourself pummeling your uncle’s face in the same way he did the bug. 

The Queen, accompanied by Ser Criston, discovered you trying to embrace Helaena. However, the young girl shied away, retreating into a crouched position, her knees to her chest and her face buried between them. Overwhelmed with emotion, you sought solace in Queen Alicent’s arms, burying your head in her skirts. As she inquired about the events, she tenderly ran her jeweled hands over your messy hair while you struggled to say your feelings, too choked up to speak coherently. She lifted you into her arms in a comforting gesture, providing security and reassurance.

You remembered how her scent lingered in the air—frankincense mixed with something more worldly, a delicate aroma that clung to her soft skin and auburn hair. With a determined expression, she assured you that Aegon would be punished for his actions, a look of resolve you had never seen on her before. She then gently carried you over to her eldest son, who was still visibly upset, wiping at his eyes and tending to his busted lip.

Alicent ordered him to apologize, you still in her arms, your face hidden within her neck as your crying turned to sniffles. Aegon did it begrudgingly, and you could tell he did not mean it, but it was enough to appease the Queen as she carried you to her chambers, commanding a maid to bring a fresh bowl of warm water and lemon tarts, though you much-preferred orange, with some floral smelling tea. 

With the tenderness reminiscent of your mother, she gently wiped away the tears and butterfly guts from your face, reassuring you that you were a radiant embodiment of the Seven’s divine light, as lovely as the Maiden herself, and expressed her pride in having someone with a sense of justice akin to the Father’s at her side.

You never understood why your mother didn’t want you to be around the Queen. She was lovely and kind and always had the tastiest snacks at her disposal. You remembered wishing one night after she had yelled at you for running away from your Septa that Queen Alicent was your mother. She would never hurt your feelings as your birth mother had. 

“I want to show Mother the egg!” Luke whined at you as you reached her bed chamber doors. 

“No, I’m going to,” you tell Luke, keeping the egg closer. 

“But why?” he asked, sounding on the verge of tears, petulantly stomping his tiny foot. 

“Because I’m the eldest,” you quipped as you kept the egg out of his grasp.

“Luke was the one who chose it! You just picked it up,” Jace countered, sounding way too smart for his good. 

You started to voice your objections once more, but just then, Ser Harwin turned the corner and caught up with the group of you. Anticipating that Luke would inform Harwin about your refusal to give him the egg, you let out an exaggerated groan, rolled your eyes, and reluctantly handed it to your younger brother.

“Little Princes and Princess, you know better than to run away from me. I should tell your mother about this.” For a moment, you were worried that Ser Harwin might be serious, but then you saw his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

“We won’t do it again, Ser Harwin,” Jace answered. You knew he was lying; your mother’s sworn protector seemed to think that, too. 

“We will be calm when we enter, yes?” Ser Harwin commanded rather than asked. 

You all nod, not saying a peep as he opens the door to your Mother’s chambers, though the sound of three pairs of little feet running across the stone floor defeats Harwin Strong’s fleeting hope. 

“Look what we brought, mother!” Jacaerys exclaimed, showing her the near-black-scaled egg in his grasp. “We chose the egg for the babe!” 

The Princess sat in a cushioned chair, her arms cradling a small bundle wrapped in intricately sewn brown and gold fabric. From within the bundle, tiny grunts were heard, adding to the air of anticipation and curiosity in the room.

“That looks like the perfect one,” she kindly replied, grunting as she shifted in her seat.

Your mother smiled at the three of you, leaning forward in her cushioned armchair to show her newest addition to her pride and joy. Pulling the fabric that obscured your sibling’s face away, you stared, a coo of awe filling the air as your brothers placed the dragon egg into the warming pot. He didn’t look much of anything right now, save for the same brown eyes the three of you shared. Your brother’s skin flushed peachy as he opened his toothless mouth to yawn. 

“I let Luke choose,” you added, tugging the fabric as you poked his plump cheek. It was soft and warm under your finger, smoother than anything you had ever felt.

Your mother placed a hand on the crown of your brown hair, a stark contrast to the white of hers and your father’s as she caressed the silky strands. “Thank you, my darling. That was very kind.”

“It is not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, Princess,” Ser Harwin spoke, a pride you didn’t have to look to see heard within his voice. “I thought it best to escort the lads and lady.”

“Laenor and I thank you, Commander,” she nodded gratefully, the tips of her teeth showing between her pink lips. 

The adults continued to converse, but you and your siblings were too concerned with the new addition to pay any attention. Jace and Luke soon found their way to your side, Ser Harwin standing behind your mother with a gentle smile as they peered into the fabric. 

“Why doesn’t he have any teeth?” Luke questioned, his dark brows drawn together in confusion. Your mother chuckled and glanced at her sworn protector above as you answered.

“He was born a few hours ago, Luke. Of course he doesn’t have teeth,” you jeered, staring incredulously at him. 

“Now, be nice, dear heart,” Rhaenyra scolded. “He has never seen a babe before. You asked the same questions when he was born.”

You scowled with sealed lips, returning your vision to the bundle in her arms. He was cute, but when your mother told you his name and that you were waiting for your father to come, you sighed, plopping onto a plush settee. 

“Joffrey?” Jace asked, ignoring a begging Luke pleading to hold his brother. 

“Joffrey,” she answered gracefully. “A name your father and I chose together like all of you.” She stroked the lanugo hair on your brother’s head, bringing her lips to his crown.

You stared at your mother with scrunched brows, confused about why they picked such a non-Targaryen and Velaryon name. She indeed named her children in Laenor’s absence, but you knew she did not name you. 

“Queen Alicent named me mother. Not you. She said you weren’t expecting a girl, so you had her decide.” Rhaenyra’s violet eyes flicked to you, a look you could only understand as restrained annoyance on her chiseled face. You did not mean to upset her, your head lowering in embarrassment. You were only telling the truth. 

“And what an honor it is to be named by the Queen Consort,” she expressed, a slight smile on her rosy lips. Her strained voice betrayed any tenderness she attempted to show, furthering your shame in displeasing her for only saying what you believed was fact. 

The embarrassment did not last long. Your father barreled through the door with the sound of boisterous laughter. You shot out of your seat, your brothers hollering in greeting as your father swooped you into his strong arms without warning. You squealed. You kicked your feet with joy as Laenor Velaryon held you within his warm embrace, a smile gracing his features as he swung your wiggling form back and forth. 

Rhaenyra smiled gracefully, still holding your younger brother in her tired arms. She observed the three of you clinging to your father as his companion stood a respectable distance away. Her heart felt complete at the sight, and her exhausted gaze traveled to Ser Harwin, a soft grin squinting her eyes. 

“Father, what stories of your travels do you have?” Jace asked, eager, a grin pulling his cherubic cheeks as you flung over Laenor’s shoulder with a giggle.

You waved to Ser Qarl, his chiseled face offering a teasing look as you giggled. Luke’s mop of brown curls barely reached your father’s waist as he hugged him, peering up. His dark eyes were wide with excitement as you waited for the exciting tales he would undoubtedly have for you three. 

Before your father could answer, your mother spoke, her maternal presence reasoning like a cloud covering the scorching sun, her voice firm but gentle. She commanded you to leave with the squire and your father. Each of you attempted to argue with her, groaning that you hadn’t seen him for a moon and wanted to hear what he had to say. 

“Mother, it’s been forever since we last saw Father!” Jace complained, his tone so whiney and spoiled that it had Ser Harwin chuckling.

“You will give me no lip, you three,” she commanded sternly, her face glistening with sweat. “You shall hear all your father has to say and more once you finish your lessons in the Pit.” 

Rhaenyra nodded to her husband as she placed your new brother into Ser Harwin’s arms, observing for a long moment as her lithe fingers stroked the silky skin of the babe’s temple. With a grunt, Laenor placed you back onto the ground, bestowing each of you a kiss on your dark crowns before the squire and Laenor led the trio of you out. 

The air was always thick within the Dragonpit, blankets of smoke from torches and incense permeating the cavernous expanse of the halls as it struggled to cover the scent of dragon. When you entered, it nearly choked your lungs, constantly rubbing at your watery eyes as the Dragonkeepers brought forth your little dragon from the deep with rattling chains.

Your uncles, Aemond and Aegon, stood beside you and your brothers in green garments. The younger’s freckled face was sullen as he watched your juvenile dragon flap its viridian wings, kicking its chained legs impatiently. Aegon appeared bored, sputtering his lips and rolling his violet eyes with annoyance. 

You ignored the eldest prince, giggling at your mount’s antics, and took a step forward, reaching an unguarded palm out before a Keeper abruptly smacked it away. Gaelithox released a loud hiss at the Elder’s action, strings of saliva splattering on the stone floor as his blood-red eyes bulged out of their sockets, jerking his chains. Scowling, you crossed your arms, waiting for their instructions as you quelled the ire that began to rise at their scolding.

Aegon released a chuckle from behind, swaying on his feet as you turned, fixing him and Aemond, who mirrored his expressions with a fiery glare. You had always felt that your uncles disliked you, and even though they were of a similar age, you did not feel comfortable in their company, a constant bubbly sensation that felt like a beast was attempting to claw out of your stomach whenever Aegon or Aemond was near. Yet a part of you still craved their attention, their acceptance, feeling that if you did whatever one of them wanted, finally, they would like you. 

It never worked, at least not truly. 

Eventually, you found that if you could not receive the validation from both, one would do. 

When Aemond and Aegon followed you to the gardens one summer afternoon, both intent on harping about your “insulting appearance to the eyes,” you snapped. It was the first time you heard the word bastard hurled towards you. You were five years of age and had yet to understand.

Your mother always told you to treat your uncles kindly even when they did not do the same. The goodness in you did not want to hurt them, whether it be physically or their feelings, but with no brothers to defend you and no guards around to escort you away, you were left with no choice after Aemond yanked a piece of your dark hair so hard it came out of your scalp. 

“I am more of a Targaryen than you, Aemond! I have a dragon!” 

You turned to Aegon next, ready to scream that even though he was born a male, your mother remained the Iron Throne’s heir, but the words stayed inside you. The king’s eldest son stopped you with a boisterous laugh, placing a gangly arm on your shoulder as he praised you for your immature insults. 

Something shifted in the dynamic between the five of you that day. No longer were you and your brothers the dirt underneath your uncle’s shoes. Now, the four of you were comrades. The relationship was still tense, but you had found the secret to redirecting your torment. 

“Princess,” the Dragonkeeper translated the other, “you have excelled in your bonding with Gaelithox, but he is still young and unpredictable.” You looked into the man’s eyes, anxious to hear what the next task for you to master would be. 

Yes, Gaeli was still a juvenile, not yet grown into his leafy-colored body, the red scales lining his sides and wings placed with a lighter yellow-green, but he was bound to you. That was the most crucial part. There could be no command of an animal if it did not trust you and you, them. It took everything within not to roll your eyes. 

“Ivestragī zirȳla jikagon,” (Let him go) the Elder Keeper nodded, having the others release the chains of your dragon. 

Gaeli stalked forward, his clawed legs slapping on the stone floor as he hissed, his arrowhead swaying and observing the people before him. You could hear the panicked whispers of the men, demanding you tell your dragon to stop as he continued his swift march forward. You understood that his intent was the Elder who chastised you and had half a mind to allow Gaeli to scare him, his crimson orbs set on the man who did not falter.

Jace grabbed the hem of your matching navy skirt in anxiety and attempted to pull you back, fearing what the dragon might do, but you held steadfast, a self-assured smirk gracing your features. 

“Kelīs!” (Halt) you commanded confidently with your chest, beaming once your dragon ceased its pursuit with the tilt of its triangle-shaped head. 

Aegon appeared bored with the ordeal, exaggerating a yawn as he flipped his frizzy blonde hair from his face. You could not ignore the pang of hurt at his disinterest, seeking more validation and praise from him that you would not get unless at someone’s expense. Aemond had hidden his face from your view behind his older brother, his sun-spotted cheeks dusted pink as you peered around to make eye contact, only for him to sneer and turn away. 

Twat.

“Pay close attention, Uncle Aemond. Mayhaps one day you will be in this position, but I do believe it won’t be for a very long, long time,” you snickered, the sensation of less than leaving as you noticed Aegon’s smirk. Facing the Keeper and his translator, you could never remember the name of once more, you spoke. “When will I be able to fly Gaeli? I am able to control him well enough.”

The older man grimaced, wiping the sweat across his ebony brow as he gave an unconvincing expression. “Gaelithox is not yet riding age, and there is still much for you to learn, your highness, before you are ready to make such feats,” the translator expressed.

A pout formed on your plush lips, looking to Gaeli and back to the half a dozen Keepers and Wards. It was as if your dragon could sense your annoyance, releasing a deep hiss within the back of his throat and unhinging his jaw as he lunged at the Elder, swiftly jerked by the chains at his ankles. You could not hide your amusement at the adolescent and earned a scolding in High Valyrian that you could not comprehend nor care about.

“Gaelithox kostagon botta aōha botagon. Pōnta issi vēdros. Istia gūrēñagon naejot control zirȳ gō kostā kipagon.” (Gaelithox can sense your emotions. They are volatile, but you must learn to control them before you can ride.)

A grin spread across your plump cheeks, a mischievous thought coming to mind as you turned to look at Aegon, who was still quite bored. The hurt did not lessen, and quickly, you glanced at the Keepers out of the corner of your eye as you took a few paces back, ensuring your brothers were behind you as you inhaled and spoke the few words you knew of High Valyrian off your pink tongue.

“Sōvēs!” (fly) 

Gaelithox didn’t hesitate for a moment. With a mighty leap, he soared into the air, his shimmering emerald wings creating a whirlwind of dirt and debris that engulfed the Keepers. His joyful songs filled the air as he gracefully flew above you, the chains on his legs and torso barely out of the reach of the Dragonwards. You watched in wonder as your dragonling glided effortlessly across the ceiling of the Pit, moving above each of you with the grace and agility of a bird. The men in their gray and crimson garb scattered around the cave’s entrance like ants whose hill had been disturbed, desperately trying to seize Gaeli’s chains.

As you turned to look behind, you bloomed, a smile so bright on your countenance that you felt it would burn all who witnessed it. Jace and Luke stared at you proudly, the youngest trying to run to you but was held back by a Kingsguard. Luke still had much to learn with Arrax. For one, your little brother was deathly afraid of him despite his denial, an emotion the dragon could sense during the training sessions. 

A surge of relief washed over you as you looked at Aegon, whose laughter filled the air in response to your impish choices. He warmly placed his pale, sinewy hand on your shoulder in approval while his younger brother Aemond remained concealed behind him. Despite the Dragonkeepers’ urgent calls for Gaelithox to land, you couldn’t help but savor the feeling of self-satisfaction that his gesture brought.

“Ao dovodedha riña! Aōha giēñilaros hen bisa ozletti kessa sagon se morghon hen sȳz vali! Aōha muña kessa rȳbagon hen bisa,” (You ignorant girl! Your misuse of this bond will be the death of good men! Your mother will hear of this) the Elder shouted, grabbing your shoulders as if his ire could force sense into you.

Once you decided that you had tortured the handlers enough, you told Gaeli to land, which he did so with low, begrudging noises, the vibration of his weight rattling your bones. The rest of the training session went uneventful as you commanded your mount to stay, lay down, and heel, the usual tricks that you and Gaeli had long grown bored of after the first successful attempts. 

When your dragon was tired, nipping at the Keepers who tried to redirect him back to the task, they called an end, bringing forth a white and brown goat as a reward for Gaeli’s patience, a bell jingling around its neck. His scaly, clawed feet tapped against the floor with an excited rhythm, evoking the image of a pup eagerly anticipating its meal. He suddenly lunged towards it but halted abruptly in response to your brief noise.

“Lykirī. Where are your manners, Gaeli?” (Be calm), you teased, earning a quick reprimand from the Head Dragonkeeper for your childishness.

“You must treat these beasts with caution and respect, Princess, lest you get burned. They are wild, barely tamed creatures. They allow you this bond,” the translator conveyed, his accent thick and worry etched in his tone.

You groaned, interrupted by an impatient screech from your dragon as a line of drool dropped from in between his finger-length fangs. After a quick apology, you allowed Gaelithox to feast, commanding with a decisive “dracarys.” The red eyes of your dragon shone like rubies in his orange flames. His obsidian pupils slit as he burned the goat to a charred crisp, tearing at its flesh into chunks. 

After begrudging praise from the Keepers as they led Gaeli back into his nest, it was now Jace’s turn to repeat the same routine, although much less eventful. He was anxious to train Vermax, barely containing his excitement as his dragon whistled. His mount approached him with purpose, olive and scarlet toned body thumping with each step as the younger Keeper translated the Elder’s words. 

“Call Vermax to heel Prince Jacaerys.”

Jace looked to the dark-skinned man who scolded you for your arrogance earlier, scars across his skin and listened. 

“Dohaerās.” (Serve) And Vermax obeyed, stopping a few paces before your barely younger brother, horned head tilting in interest. 

The Elder looked down at your brother, a proud smile on his bearded mouth, and nodded in approval. You should have felt the same that Jace was advancing in his sessions and closely catching up to you, but all you felt was the burning sensation of envy in your stomach, which you buried with an encouraging expression to your brother. You did not understand why you felt such a thing as he was urged back to his dragon, who had taken notice of a snow-white sheep belting in the distance. 

He was your brother, your twin, as close to the same as one could be. It would be best if you were ecstatic that Jace was blossoming into a fine dragon knight. Still, you did not, and guilt and jealousy overwhelmed you as he waited for the instructions, an overeager Vermax ready to devour the unaware sheep.

Just as quickly as the feeling came, it went as you watched how Vermax disobeyed Jace’s commands to halt his pursuit of the animal. The only thing holding the young dragon back was the Warders’ staff. 

“You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young prince,” the translator spoke, “as Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre.” High Valyrian rolled off the Elder’s tongue with deep rumbles as he talked to an embarrassed Jace. “Once they are fully bound to you, they will refuse to take instruction from any other, much like your older sister.”

Vermax released an ear-piercing screech of frustration as his yellow eyes bore into the roped sheep, belting in primal terror as it attempted to escape a fate over which it had no control. Jace nodded to the older man, shame replaced with excitement coursing through his veins as he hopped from foot to foot. 

“Can I say it?” he asked anxiously, brown eyes wide with a youthful glow that reflected your own with your dragonling. The Elder nodded in affirmation as Jace glanced back to you and where you stood in front of Aegon, the man swiftly pushing your brother forward in admonishment for his brief action of immature reassurance.

Your brother turned with a broad smile you feared would split his face in two as you heard the shuffle of shoes behind you. Aemond found himself peering over your shorter form as he studied the dragon, slinking closer and closer to its prey, screeches of a predator ready to pounce echoing off the caverns. You looked at your younger uncle with confusion. Your eyebrows scrunched together as he paid you no mind. Unsure of why you did so, you took a step to the side, allowing him more room to observe as your brother shouted gleefully. 

“Dracarys, Vermax!” 

Perhaps a subconscious part of you felt bad for your dragonless uncle, hoping to give him at least a taste of what power one felt when in command of a beast such as this. Besides, it was the right thing to do. You knew he would not notice such kindness from you and did not expect anything in return, nor did you want it, as Vermax’s orange flames charred the flesh of the snow-white sheep. 

You approached Jace once the lesson ended, giving him an encouraging hug from behind. You knew this was a remarkable feat for him. Jace and you were the same, a sentiment shared by both and your family on countless occasions. Spending every waking moment with someone, sharing the same bed, meals, toys, and friends, it was no surprise that you confided in one another and shared affections that traditional siblings did not have. You tended to mother your brother, a flaw that your natural mother had scolded you on, but that did not stop you as you kissed Jace on his warm, smooth cheek, whispering what he could do better with his dragon the next time. 

You only wanted the best for your brother, and you desperately wanted to share your triumphs with the person you spent all your days with, even if it was selfish. 

Chattering behind you caught your attention, seeing Aegon approach his younger brother as he flippantly stroked a piece of unruly frizz from his face. 

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you,” he confided, placing an encouraging hand at his brother’s mid-back. 

The youngest prince of King Viserys looked skeptically at his kin, gaze downcast. “What is it?” he asked warily, shoulders hunched. Luke gave a cheeky grin and kicked the dirt with his toes. 

“Something very special,” your brother answered as you watched him scamper off into the darkness of the Pit. 

You and Jace gazed at your uncles, confused, a twinge of hurt poking at your chest at having been left out of the “surprise” as you grabbed his hand for support. Subconsciously, you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, feeling uneasy in your heart as Jace looked eagerly to where his brother went.

“You’re the only one of us without a dragon,” Aegon began, escorting Aemond to his intended destination, waiting for his response. 

“Indeed,” the young prince answered curtly. Aemond still lowered his head, silver hair tied back as he followed his older sibling blindly.

You could tell Aegon was holding a barely restrained smile, gesturing with his pale hands and continuing. “And we felt badly about it, so we found one for you.” 

You cocked your head as you followed at a distance. A part of you was anxious to see what Aegon planned, knowing from his history in the back of your mind that it would not be as kind as he was making it out to be. Nonetheless, you intently listened as Aemond protested with suspicion. 

“A dragon? How?” 

Your uncle smirked, stopping just before the ramp of the Dragonpit sloped down to where the Keepers held the animals. You heard the squeals of a creature you could not recognize due to the echoes bouncing off the stone walls. It sent an ominous, almost eerie feeling through your bones.

“The Gods provide,” Aegon answered alisively. 

Moments later, your younger brother led a plump, pink pig with wooden wings strapped to its hairy pot belly up to the four of you. 

“Behold! The Pink Dread,” Luke and Aegon announced simultaneously, cheering as if this was the most fantastic find in the history of Westeros. 

“Be sure to mount her carefully. The first flight is always rough.” 

This was hideous. This was horrendous. This was a terrible, awful, no-good deed that would surely wind up with all of you receiving a reprimand from your parents. But why... why was it so funny? 

You released a noise akin to a gag, a failed attempt to stifle a laugh as your brothers and elder uncle snorted in unison. Unable to control your giggles, you covered your mouth, releasing Jace’s hand as you ran over to Aemond, nudging his side. 

“Don’t be so rude, Uncle! She is a very fine creature, worthy of having such a noble rider,” you teased, but he gave no reaction, only staring at the winged pig with a sullen, dejected expression on his freckled countenance. 

It only made you feel slightly wrong… slightly. 

When Aegon decided the fun had outstayed its welcome, he walked away, laughter fading as the three of you followed his coattails like ducklings to their mother out of the Dragonpit, leaving a dejected Aemond to stare at his new gift.

You spared a glance back to your uncle as the yellow sun peeked into the expanse of the Pit. Guilt crawled up your back like dark clouds before a storm, hesitating your exit as he became aware of your gaze. Aemond still stood where the four of you left him, radiating an aura of hurt, apathy, and anger. Flames lit your cheeks in shame as you stepped back towards your younger uncle, only to be swiftly stopped by the other, Aegon’s larger hand placing itself on your crown as he forced you to follow his march out of the Dragonpit.

There was no reason for this guilt. Aemond would undoubtedly hurt you or your feelings regardless of the jokes your siblings and Aegon played on him. It was only a matter of time until the word bastard spewed from his chapped lips.

The sun felt warm on your skin as you were helped into the carriage, awaiting the return of the five of you home, though you missed one. Judging by the bright orb's position, it would soon be time for your daily lessons with Septa Marlow. The woman was so old that she often fell asleep during your embroidery lessons, an easy chance for you to escape the crone’s torture that she called learning. 

The ride to the Red Keep was quick, and the amount of time it took your Septa to fall asleep was even faster, much to your delight. You found yourself wandering the halls, staring at the paintings depicting great battles with dragons and portraits of your ancestors, unsure what would peak your fancy and seeking anything to entertain you. Your brothers were in their lessons that were undoubtedly more enticing than yours, and your father would most likely be with your mother, seeing as there was a new addition to the family. 

“What are you doing wandering about the halls, Princess?” the velvet voice of Queen Alicent rang out. 

Finally, your musings were answered. 

You demurely smiled at the Queen, giving her a short curtsy in your Velaryon blue gown, tiny silver seahorses embroidered into the bodice. “Septa Marlow fell asleep again, and she looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake her,” you answered with a childish coyness that never failed to endear Alicent. You were her shining light, after all. 

The Queen chuckled, a noise you heard few and far between as she offered you a delicate palm, accepting it without hesitation. Your mother never approved of you spending time unchaperoned with her for reasons you could never comprehend. She was family, your grandmother, to be precise, and she was the one who gave you a name. It should be more than natural to accompany her on outings and luncheons.

“You should not be alone, Princess. ’Tis unsafe for a girl of your age to be unaccompanied in the Keep. I am going to Helaena’s room to pay her a visit. Come,” Alicent stated without so much as a sliver of space for protests. 

“Why is it unsafe, your majesty?” you questioned with a raised brow, curious who or what would try to hurt you. “It’s my home and I’m a princess. No one would try to hurt me.” 

The Queen stopped her movements, glancing down at your much shorter form as a sigh escaped her mouth. “You are still a child, my light, and many people would love to snatch it away and keep it for themselves. Those even close to you could wish you harm.” 

Your head whipped up towards Alicent faster than humanly possible, a horrified look on your visage. People close to you? What could she mean? Could it be your maids? The servants who changed your sheets, washed your clothes, or made your food? Could your mother wish to hurt you? Your brother? Your hair prickled at the thought, causing your skin to itch and become uncomfortable. You could not say anything in response.

You followed the Queen to your Aunt’s quarters without strife, a sinking feeling in your gut as her ringed hand enveloped yours in a blanket of maternal security. Alicent would never hurt you… would she? 

The same scent of frankincense wafted into your nose as the Queen led you. It sent pleasant shivers down your spine, making you forget the discontent as you passed lords and ladies of the court, a warm sense of joy tickling your stomach. You looked at Queen Alicent, the natural light filtering through the windows, to see specks of dust dancing in the air behind her auburn hair. 

Admiration washed over you as you studied her, a crown of weaved golden threads resting atop her curled updo. She wore earrings of silver metal intricately smelted together, an emerald gem placed in the center with droplets of pearl glinting in the sun. Her gown was green, a usual statement color of her House, and she had a modest cloak covering her shoulders and cut sleeves. She was so beautiful, more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen besides your mother, and it filled you with a sense of deep admiration that nearly overwhelmed you. 

Cackles echoed in the distance of the red rock walls of the Keep, a group of ladies adorned in extravagant garbs striding in the opposite direction of the pair of you. Their piercing laughter abruptly ended as they spotted you hand in hand with the Queen, appearing as if they saw a ghost. They stood there, still, unmoving, their eyes following you, despite the impropriety of gawking at the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms and a daughter of the heir, whispering words of gossip. 

Your adoration of Alicent was forgotten about as a sinking feeling of inadequacy hollowed your chest, somehow knowing they were speaking of you. The Queen felt hesitation in your steps as you passed by the women, uncertainty causing you to squeeze her golden-ringed fingers tighter. 

“Pay no mind to them, my light,” Alicent encouraged, rubbing a comforting thumb over your knuckles as you did with Jace. You tried to listen to her words and disregard the judgmental stares of the ladies, but you could not and heard one whispering. 

“Seven! She looks more like the Queen than her mother!”

The laughter soon carried on as a lump formed in your throat. Your arms felt prickly again, as if the hair got stuck between the threads of your clothes, pulling and tugging uncomfortably as you attempted to scratch the sensation. Queen Alicent glanced down at the sudden clawing at your limbs. Her plush lips pouted in a curious expression, recognition flashing in her amber eyes as she smoothed the stray hairs of your braid, kissing the top of your head in comfort.

Soon, you entered Helaena’s chambers, her Septa dressed in humble charcoal gray clothing, sitting next to your Aunt as she hunched over an ancient tome. The modestly dressed woman stood and bowed at the arrival of the Queen, exiting without words as you sat on a Myrish rug. A glass case filled with different types of insects rested on the delicate fabric, taking note of a giant dead obsidian scorpion in it. You could not hide the shudder the creature brought as your Aunt found her place next to you, bringing out another small casing. 

“What is in that one, Helaena?” you asked, peering curiously over her shoulder. She recoiled at your sudden presence, slightly shifting away from you as a pang of hurt hit your core at the action. She disregarded your question and focused on her hidden creature, but you paid no attention to it, happy to be by her side. 

Alicent sat on the opposite side of her daughter, crossing one leg and bending the other to get into a comfortable position. Though the rug was lavish, it did not provide much cushioning for larger bodies. As your Aunt opened the wooden box, a creature you had never seen crawled along the side, with what seemed to be a thousand tiny legs hidden underneath a shiny black body. You tried to hide your shock as Helaena picked it up, allowing it to crawl along her pale, dainty fingers. Another shudder of disgust came over you as you watched the bug’s legs move too quickly to be something of this world, nausea bubbling in your stomach. 

“This one has sixty rings. Two pairs of legs on each. That’s two-hundred and forty,” Helaena stated, her violet gaze trained on the creature. She seemed as if in another world as she spoke, talking to those around her but not registering your presence. 

You intently observed as she allowed the bug to crawl up her satin dress sleeve before placing it back into her palm to study it more. You never understood Helaena’s fascination with the things, but you didn’t deter her from it, even when she brought out creatures such as this. It was never something you were interested in yourself, as you would much prefer to spend time plucking flowers like other girls your age. However, you respected them nonetheless. 

“Yes, it is,” the Queen agreed, her facial expressions showing exasperation despite her encouraging words. You moved closer to Helaena with a morbid fascination to see the thing, though you still felt repulsed. 

Your Aunt was silent for a beat, entranced with the new addition to her collection, seeming as if she forgot your and Alicent’s existence. Her voice was the only thing that indicated recognition. “Would you like to hold it?” she asked airily. 

Unsure if she was speaking to you, you did not respond. Only when Helaena turned her pale face to you did you respond with a swift shake of your head. Your Aunt took no offense to the refusal, continuing to examine it. “It has eyes, though I did not believe it can see.”

Alicent released a noiseless sigh. She seemed tired of her child’s interests since they were not ordinary, making you feel bad for Helaena. Though people believed she did not perceive the world for what it was, she wasn’t blind. Your Aunt felt and understood emotions like the rest of you, but she did not act like everyone else. It did not mean she was not human. 

“And why is that so, do you think?” the Queen asked, her velvet voice bland with feigned interest.

“It is beyond our understanding,” Helaena plainly answered, allowing the quiet to resonate as your eyes flicked between them.

“I suppose you’re right,” Alicent replied, placing what was intended to be a comforting hand onto Helaena’s elbow. Your Aunt flinched, trying to free herself from her mother’s touch but knowing she could not force a guardian to listen to their child. “Some things are just beyond our understanding,” she finished, begrudgingly letting go. 

You observed the exchange with critical eyes. Your brow scrunched in the offense for Helaena and confusion. The Queen knew her daughter did not like touch unless she was the one to initiate it, but she still insisted on invading her space with the ignorant hope that Helaena would one day accept her affections. You supposed that was why the Queen liked spending time with you, as you were a more typical child, embracing any affection.

Suddenly, the door to Helaena’s chambers opened with a clanking of metal and squeal of hinges as a Kingsguard gripping harshly onto Aemond’s arm entered. The three of you turned to face the noise, confusion mixed with surprise matching each of your faces.

“Your grace,” the Kingsguard announced as Aemond struggled in his grasp. Questions etched your brows as she stood and went to her son. You understood he had done something wrong by the shame covering his face like the ash dusting it.

“Aemond!” she exclaimed. “What have you done?” She took her son by his shoulders, palpating his soot-covered visage to ensure there were no wounds. 

“He did it again,” Helaena answered for the guard as you glanced at her for an explanation. 

Aemond being covered in ash and escorted by a guard seemed a common occurrence for the three of them, and it needed no explanation. Aemond smelled of smoke and incense, a scent you recognized from that of the Dragonpit. Had he still been in there this whole time? 

“After how many times you’ve been warned? Must I have you confined to your chambers?” Alicent interrogated, exasperation evident in her tone. She stared at him with words ready to scold before her son interrupted with a protest.

“They made me do it!” 

They? Was he referring to you, Aegon, and your brothers? You didn’t coerce Aemond into the depths of the Dragonpit, where he likely encountered a dragon that wasn’t his own. How could he hold you responsible for his own choices?

“As if you needed encouragement! Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding,” she admonished with a shake of her head. 

Aemond’s eyes widened with tears as he tried to comprehend his mother’s lack of understanding. He felt a profound sense of hopelessness and powerlessness in the situation, believing that he had no alternative but to respond in the manner he did, his blonde hair in disarray. It was evident that you hadn’t realized the extent of the pain you caused him. What you perceived as a simple jest had deeply wounded him.

“They gave me a pig!” He shrieked, tears finally falling from his violet eyes as you looked anywhere but at the mother and son before you. “They gave me a pig,” he admitted softer this time, sniffling with chagrin.

Guilt overcame you at the hurt your uncle displayed, emotions gathering in your throat as your digits went under your sleeves, tugging at the hair that had been bothering you all day. You didn’t realize the joke had wounded Aemond as profoundly as it had, shame rising and covering your heart. 

“They said they had a dragon for me,” your uncle confessed, gaze downcast as Helaena began to lose interest in the conversation before her. 

“The last ring has no legs at all,” she said as if you should also share her nonchalant sentiment and fall into her world. You ignored her; all your attention focused on the impending storm unleashed upon you once Aemond told Alicent what the four of you did. 

“But it was a pig,” your uncle declared, a scornful gaze directed at you as Alicent turned to face your shrunken form. 

“Is this true?” she interrogated, ire directed at you instead of her son as you hesitated. “Is it true?” 

The Queen had never crossed with you before, and it caused an unwelcome sensation in your stomach. “I didn’t know they were going to do it!” you exclaimed, shame heating your cheeks. “I wouldn’t have let them if I knew!”

“Liar! You laughed!” Aemond protested, hurt evident in his voice as he pointed an accusing digit. “You and Aegon love to torment me!” 

“Only because you do it first! You call me a bastard and pull my hair! I’m not a bastard!” you argued, tears wetting your cheeks at the intensity of your sudden anger. 

The Queen’s disappointment abruptly left at your words, swiftly turning to Aemond as her face blanched. “Aemond, she is your kin. You mustn’t call her such things,” she implored, eyes wide with a meaning behind them you couldn’t place. 

“But mother, you–” 

“No, Aemond,” she interrupted urgently, stopping your uncle from saying something that would cause another uproar from you and find its way to Rhaenyra. “You must apologize. Both of you. You are family and need to be kind to one another even when they have upset you.” Alicent turned and extended a palm out, encouraging you to make the first step of amends for your participation in the cruel joke you played on Aemond.

You knew he would not accept your apology, though it was sincere. There was no intended malice with your laughter toward Aemond in the Pit. It was what was expected of you to do. You would have become his brother’s next victim if you hadn’t gone along with Aegon when Luke brought out the pig. 

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you confessed, plucking at the hairs on your forearms to ease the discontent in your heart. He refused to reply with an apology of his own, glaring down at you with such a fierceness you feared that you would wilt. “You will have a dragon one day, uncle. There are many still unclaimed at Dragonstone, and wild ones too! Perhaps you could come with us when we visit in the summer?”

“You laughed,” Aemond glowered, voice cracking. The pain he disguised as anger slipped through his scornful mask, causing your mouth to be thick. 

You could tell he wanted to hit you as he usually would in these situations; his hands balled into fists at his sides, but suddenly, they became limp, and a wave of affection and comfort for your uncle pulled you towards him. You wrapped your arms around Aemond, hugging him so tightly you were unsure if he could breathe, burying your face in his neck. After a long day outside, he smelled of sweat and dragon smoke, a hint of expensive amber-scented soap on his skin. Aemond did not return the action, but you sensed he no longer wanted to hurt you as much.

“I love you, uncle, and I know we’ll fly together on dragonback someday,” you encouraged, holding him impossibly tighter. Partly to distract yourself from your guilt and partly because you knew that despite his cold, sullen demeanor, he too enjoyed the rare warmth of embrace even though it was by the one he despised. 

Human touch was still touch.

Alicent smiled, a joy welling inside her chest that she had not felt in decades. This was the start of something new, a seed planted in the first rays of spring with the hopes of a bountiful harvest in autumn, but Aemond refused to give it thought, focused only on the ridicule you, Aegon, and your brothers caused him.

You were not like Rhaenyra in more ways than the Queen initially thought. You were Alicent’s child, not in this life, but another where she was not a queen and was not a game piece her father moved about how he pleased. She could bring a proposal to match the one she rejected from Princess Rhaenyra with one of her sons. At least in that way, she could ensure your bright mind would not become tainted by Rhaenyra’s blackened rot. 

The Queen gently stroked your and Aemond’s hair, a tender smile on her plump lips, and pressed a kiss atop both your crowns—so different yet so intertwined in ways children could not comprehend. 

Alicent’s shining light, her dream. A dream that never was indeed hers.

“He will have to close an eye.”

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

The reader’s dragon is based on a snake that caught my eye while watching a Nat Geo documentary. It’s called Pope’s Green Pit Viper and is native to Southeast Asia. I initially didn’t think it was a real snake because it looked so cool! They are also the only snakes to give birth to live young, like mammals, and have heat vision.

Also, for those who don't know, Gaelithox is part of the Fourteen Flames, the Gods of Old Valyria. He's the god of fire, stars, moon, sun, and dawn, the rival of Meraxes. Pretty on the nose there, huh?

Thank you so much for reading! I’m so excited to have y’all see what I’ve been cooking up, and I look forward to hearing y’all’s thoughts!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager

[callsign-rogueone]

under the weather

fourth wing boys* x gn!partner!reader *Aaric, Bodhi, Brennan, Dain, Garrick, Liam, Ridoc, Sawyer, Xaden! y'all seemed to like excuses, excuses, so here’s something in that style because I don’t feel good rn, but I want to write :( and I added Aaric this time too!  words: 645 🏷: no spoilers. just some thoughts on ways our boys would take care of you when you’re sick 🥰 descriptions of sickness (cough, fever, dizziness, etc.) doctors visits, medication. I've been ripping shots of nyquil all day and I’m not all there rn so I really hope these make sense lol 

Aaric lets you rest your head in his lap while he reads to you, either from a textbook (the grind never stops with this one) or whatever fiction novel he’s reading. the words go in one ear and out the other in your soft delirium, but it’s still nice to hear his voice and feel him stroking your hair as he reads. if you fall asleep on him, he won’t move until you wake up, or unless he absolutely has to — but heaven help the person who makes him move.

Bodhi insists on cuddling you back to health, curling up with you and letting you rest your aching body against his while you settle in for a long afternoon nap, because sleep is the best medicine. he completely ignores your protests that you’ll get him sick too (you do, and then it’s your turn to play nurse next week, but he swears it was worth it). 

Brennan spends as much time with you as he can, bringing his paperwork and things to your shared room so that he can be there when you need him, while still tending to his duties as a leader of the revolution. he checks your temperature and pulse etc. every hour, monitoring you carefully, but he’ll make up for it with lots of forehead kisses. 

Dain excuses you from training until you’re better, insisting that you stay in bed and devote all your energy to recovering. he frequently comes to check on you throughout the day, and you better still be in bed when he does, or you’ll be getting a gentle lecture about the importance of your caring for yourself and how much you mean to him — he needs you to be healthy, okay?

Garrick carries you around whenever you need to go somewhere, because he doesn’t want you collapsing after that dizzy spell you had. he doesn’t care if it’s only twenty feet to the showers and back; he’s scooping you up and walking over himself. he also insists on supervising your shower, but no funny business — you’re sick. once you’ve recovered, however…

Liam draws you a warm bath, letting you soothe your aching muscles for a while before washes your hair and your back for you, being incredibly gentle all the while. he’ll dry you off afterward, letting you pick any of his clothes to wear to sleep if you want, and helping you through the steps of your nightly routine — brushing your teeth, etc., before giving you your medicine and letting you fall asleep on his chest.

Ridoc goes with you to the healers, rubbing your back and making soft jokes all the while to distract you from the discomfort — apologizing when your laughs turn into a coughing fit. he also tries to make you feel normal / less gross when you’re stuck in bed, helping you with basic self-care: brushing and braiding your hair, taking your makeup off if you wear it, helping you do your skincare… 

Sawyer does all the things that you can’t do while you’re sick — goes to class and copies an extra set of notes for you, does your laundry, straightens up your room, etc. that way you can focus on recovering, but also, once you’re back on your feet, you won’t have a huge mess to deal with and you won’t be behind on your studies. he’ll help you review what you missed, as well. 

Xaden is protective to a fault, but when you’re sick, it’s a whole new level. he doesn’t leave your side unless absolutely necessary, ignoring any form of protest. follows the healer’s instructions to the letter — antibiotics every four hours? he’s waking you up at two am, glass of water in hand, helping you sit up so you can take them. he’ll also use his shadows to dim the room so you can sleep through the day. 

[selfish-thunder]

I’ve got another idea.

Okay, so I love those fics that have Harry trying to use his Parselmouth on either (or both) the basilisk and the dragon in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, with varying degrees of success. And a lot of the time, talking to the dragon kinda works, right? Like, it’s not direct communication, more like two people who are just above beginner’s level in learning the other’s language, and both languages are derivative of another one, so even if they don’t fully understand they can kinda piece together what the other is saying?

So, let’s say it’s like that. And of course, dragons aren’t born like squishy humans who take forever to learn to even roll over; they immediately start walking, flapping their wings, and hiccupping sparks, right?

AU

FIRST YEAR Harry, of course, doesn’t realize yet that he’s a Parselmouth–he doesn’t even know what Parseltongue is and just assumed being able to talk to that snake in the zoo was just a wizard thing.

So, they’re in Hagrid’s hut, Norbert(a) is born, and Harry hears something that sounds an awful lot like, “Food? Hungry? Momma?” or whatever a newborn dragon would try to communicate.

Harry tries to tell Hagrid he thinks the dragon is hungry, he might want to feed it, but the others are confused because it sounds to them like Harry is hiss-cooing or something to the dragon. (Hagrid thinks it’s adorable.) But anyway, however it comes about, it becomes obvious in the time between the dragon being born and Charlie’s friends coming to get them, that Harry can, in fact, understand the dragon and speak to it.

It’s not perfect, but he’s able to communicate to the dragon not to set something on fire or that they need to try to eat the rats as they’re being weaned off the whiskey/blood mix thing. No one thinks it’s a perk of Parseltongue because hello, he’s talking to a dragon, and isn’t this incredible? It must be some kind of ancient inheritance thing.

So, when they write to Charlie, they naturally have to ask him if he’s ever heard anything like that, so instead of just coming to collect the dragon, Charlie comes, too, and they witness this incredible thing. (So does Draco, in the shadows, of course.)

Charlie is super excited and reaches out to every expert he can, and he convinces McG to let him bring Harry out to a dragon range to be evaluated, and they try to keep this new, rare ability under wraps, but some of the assessors blab, and Draco wrote to complain to his father who goes on his own investigation, etc. At any rate, it becomes A Thing.

While Dumbledore steps in to ensure Harry goes back to the Dursleys, the obsessed dragon crowd refuse to be refused outright and secures Harry a camp-like thing at a dragon resort (because they think it’s clearly Harry’s destiny to become, like, the Ultimate Dragon Trainer, and Harry thinks dragons are cool and likes the sound of getting away from the Dursleys for a few weeks).

Their letters don’t get through that summer, though, and Charlie hears from his brothers that they haven’t heard from Harry either, so it’s Charlie who goes to check on him and finds him locked up with bars on his windows. Unlike Ron, Fred, and Geroge, Charlie is a grown-ass adult with his own connections now, which go beyond Dumbledore’ reach because the wealthy dragon resort that’s so interested in Harry is in a goddamn different country with a whole different magical government, and also, ain’t nobody wants to get on the bad side of a self-sufficient DRAGON RESORT that has a ton of dragons that aren’t just roaming their countryside thanks to them.

So, a new arrangement is made. Harry will return to the Dursleys, under strict Romania supervision (I imagine it's some seasoned, scary-looking dragon tamer who demands to stay in the house with them, taking over the guest room, like… ahhhh chef’s kiss) just long enough to satisfy the protection spell, but for the rest of the summer, Harry stays at the resort. Charlie becomes his unofficial guardian, kinda, and: enter, a bunch of OC dragon tamers who are awesome and very protective of their little dragon-speaker.

Second year goes a little differently. First there’s Draco, who hates Harry more than ever over this, but while he knows he’ll never get a dragon-in with the Weasleys, there’s still a slight chance with Harry (and goddamnit, dragons are his NAME’S SAKE, if anyone deserves free access to any dragon they want, it’s HIM), so he tries to become less of a bother. Harry’s still outed talking a different language during duel club, and some people are still suspicious, but most people know about his dragon-ability and wrongly assume the opposite of what it actually is (ie, he can kinda talk to snakes because he can talk to dragons), and Harry only tells Ron and Hermione that the snake was actually a lot easier to understand.

Go to next summer, when his new dragon-tamer-family learn about the events of second year, they firstly, throw a fit because they should have been informed their charge was in danger, and secondly, go and collect the basilisk because like hell are they going to let something like that just rot somewhere. So, figuring out how to destroy Horcruxes later becomes, like, SUPER easy and accessible.

Charlie’s the one who tells Harry about Sirius Black when he escapes, and he straight up tells Harry everything, about Black being his godfather and betraying his parents, all of it, so Harry goes into third year fully informed. He, of course, does not see the grim that summer. But he doesn't spent the year an emotional wreck, just getting a little bit of the info at a time, do with that as you will.

Harry arrives to school with a signed permission slip for Hogsmeade, and even though McGonagall still wants to refuse him because of Black, members of his dragon-tamer family just happen to be in the area for that year for ‘business’ or whatever (aka, protect Harry because ain't nobody said shit to them last year) and escort him to Hogsmeade anyway.

(“With all due respect, Professor, I once had a Peruvian Vipertooth grab my leg and toss me over a hill, and I still got back up and got the collar on her. You think Black scares me?”)

Most of their patronuses are dragons, except for one tamer whose patronus is a chipmunk, and funnily enough, it’s the most powerful patronus of all of them.

Draco doesn’t insult Buckbeak because he wants to prove to the tamers and probably Potter that he can, in fact, handle himself with larger magical creatures. He becomes Hagrid's best, most dedicated student.

I mean, COME ON,  imagine how the whole series can go differently.

Maybe the tamers get hilariously invested in the Scabbers/Crookshanks feud. It's the tamers, maybe, that figure out Scabbers fucking Pettigrew.

Different dragons have to be imported for the first task because Romania would be too biased - or they change the first task altogether because Harry's a known dragon-speaker.

They would DESTROY Umbridge.

Death Eaters vs Dragon Tamers. Dragon Tamers in the Order. Sirius lives because a Tamer was there in the Department of Mysteries to save him. Sirius not going out of his mind being stuck at Grimmauld because he can go to the resort where no one outside the Order recognizes him/cares.

Draco not becoming a Death Eater because he wants to become a Dragon Tamer.

DRAGONS AT THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS. USING THE GRINGOTTS DRAGON INSTEAD OF GRIPHOOK TO BREAK INTO (AND OUT OF) GRINGOTTS.

THE POSSIBILITIES

[tiannasfanfic]

Jackass

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

| Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: When the cast of a popular reality tv stunt show is hired to perform in Corroded Coffin’s new video, Eddie Munson finds himself an unwilling participant, as well as a new love interest.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns, no Y/N. Strangers to lovers, Rockstar!Eddie x Jackass!Reader, early 2000’s setting. I’d like to give a huge shoutout to the Eddie’s Sluts Discord Server, particularly @strangerxperv and @kleenexwoman for their encouragement to turn this very stupid idea of mine into a fic. 🖤💜

CW: Slight Fuckboy!Eddie x Fuckgirl!Reader in the beginning; allusions of hooking up; surprise tazing; mention of a ankle injury (no details).

Word Count: 1,539

WARNING! The following show features stunts performed either by professionals or under the supervision of professionals. Accordingly, MTV and the producers must insist that no one attempt to recreate or re-enact any stunt or activity performed on this show.

One of the songs on Corroded Coffin’s latest album is a fun, upbeat rock song about doing stupid shit when you’re young. All four members contributed stories for it, as well as some of their friends, but while it was extremely fun to write, everyone just assumed it would fly under the radar.

We all know what they say about assuming.

The song quickly blew up upon the album’s release with audiences finding it funny and extremely relatable. The label quickly began promoting it as a single and a music video was ordered to be made.

While the guys had the initial idea of the video, which was to show each one of them taking turns doing the stupid stuff Eddie was singing about, the director took it a step further. The crew of MTV’s hit show Jackass are brought in both to ramp the situations up to ridiculous levels and execute them while Corroded Coffin performs in the background just slightly out of harm’s way.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant are all hyped since they are big fans of the show, but it isn’t all that exciting for Eddie. He’s never seen it. The whole concept has always sounded stupid as hell to him, which is only reinforced every time someone makes him watch clips from it.

Even though you had consulted on a few technical aspects for the stunt choreography, you hadn’t been needed for the video initially. A frantic phone call from one of your producers changed that thought when they realized you had some of the safety gear they needed. Since this was vital equipment, the shoot had to be put on hold, so you quickly loaded it all up and high tailed it down there. You decided to stick around to help since they were a couple hours behind by the time you arrived.

Since you weren’t at the morning meeting when all the Jackass crew members were formally introduced to everyone on set, Eddie doesn’t recognize you and assumes you are just one of the few extras that recently arrived on set. But, regardless of who you are, he thinks you’re hot, and since performing always makes him horny, he decides you should be given the opportunity to help him relieve it.

But while Eddie doesn’t recognize you, you instantly recognize him as soon as he approaches you. You can hardly believe it when he immediately starts flirting with you. Though, calling it flirting is putting it mildly. Even though he’s being incredibly smooth about it, it’s obvious he has only one thing on his mind right now. You are perfectly okay with this, however. You weren’t about to turn down the opportunity to get railed by the lead singer of a band you really like, and so you return his advances. Once lunch is called, it doesn’t take long before the inevitable invitation slides from Eddie’s lips when you ask what his plans were.

“I usually go back to my trailer to eat,” he says, licking his lips at that last word as he lets his gaze slowly wander down your body again. “Care to keep me company?”

His voice dripped with honey, his tone making the warmth between your legs grow. You smiled, opened your mouth to accept his offer…

And then your friends struck.

It all happened extremely fast, and with all of Eddie’s attention on you, all he knew was, one minute, you were looking at him with the sort of bedroom eyes that had the blood flowing to his cock already, and then then next, your body lurched forward into his arms as you let out a bloodcurdling scream.

You immediately jumped away from the now stunned Eddie and whirled around. That’s when he saw a man running away from you both while laughing his ass off.

“Ryan, you motherfucker!” you roared before taking off after the man. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

Confused, Eddie watched you running away until some wild, boisterous cheering caught his attention. He looked over to see a small group watching the whole fiasco that consisted of the other members of Corroded Coffin and a few of the guys from Jackass. They had a video camera out and were all roaring with laughter as they recorded you chasing the guy named Ryan around the video set.

“Sorry Eddie!” called Gareth through his laughter.

This drew everyone else’s attention to Eddie. The camera pivoted towards him as one of the guys, a man named Johnny, jogged over to him with a good natured, but cocky grin on his face.

“Yeah, sorry about cockblocking you back there, Eddie,” Johnny said, his voice sounding anything but sorry. “But, man, we owe you a big one for that, we’ve been trying to get them with the Taser Cam for MONTHS.”

The Taser Cam, as it turns out, was your idea initially and you oversaw the planning and execution. It was one of the most popular skits on the show and that’s because you were a sneaky little shit with it. Even though they all knew you could be packing a taser at any given moment, they all had a bad habit of letting their guard down around you.

Even though they’d been gunning for revenge for a while, all attempts to tase you in return had failed miserably. This wasn’t entirely a problem since you all had a healthy level of paranoia and distrust for each other by now, it was just highly annoying for them all. You always managed to work out when they were trying to set you up, even if it was at the last second.

So, when Gareth made an offhand comment to Jeff about Eddie trying to get his dick wet at work again, and drew Johnny’s attention, he saw how engrossed you were in the man, he couldn’t resist. This really was the perfect opportunity, your attention had been entirely on Eddie, and Johnny recognized this as their big chance.

Eddie was so dumbfounded by the whole thing, he wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or impressed.

In the end, he does get you stretched out on the couch of his trailer just like he wanted, only not in the way he expected. It was the closest place to lay you down at so the onsite EMTS could look at you. While you were perfectly fine from the tasing, you had tripped while running after Ryan and now you couldn’t put any weight on one of your feet.

“It doesn’t look like a break,” said one of the paramedics as she finished looking you over. “Probably just a bad sprain, but you should have some x-rays taken to be sure. Need us to take you?”

“Nah,” you said, shaking your head. “Tremaine will strangle me if I take an ambulance for a non-emergency again.”

Eddie blinked a few times in surprise while Johnny and Ryan laughed.

“Yeah, he’s already gonna explode when he hears about this,” Johnny said, taking off his sunglasses to wipe tears from his eyes. “You just got released yesterday.”

“Right?” you sighed as the paramedics let themselves out. “Wonder how much longer this is going to put me down for.”

The whole situation was so ridiculous that it had rendered Eddie speechless, thus he had been uncharacteristically quiet since your tasing. But the current conversation piqued his curiosity.

“Released?” he asked looking over at you.

“Yeah, by my doctor,” you said, nodding. “I’ve been off work for, what?” You looked over at Johnny. “Two months now?”

“Almost, yeah,” he said, nodding, then burst out laughing. “Man, Ehren’s gonna be pissed. This means you and Bam can’t do the boarding segment next week.”

You looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Why would Ehren be pissed?” you asked, confused. “He’s not in that one.”

“No, he’s not,” said Johnny, and then a grin spread across his face that gave Eddie goosebumps. “But I think you being off with another injury is a good reason for all of us to be a little more safety conscious, wouldn’t you all agree?”

You and Ryan burst out laughing.

“Safety First!” the two of you then cried out in unison and Johnny clapped.

As badly as Eddie hated to admit it, you now fascinated him. Granted, he thought you were batshit insane at this point, but that only piqued his interest more. He ended up being thankful for the interruption.

With as thankful as he was for that, it didn’t compare to how thankful he was later when he found out exactly how close he came to getting tazed instead of you. Since they had to be so sneaky and quick about the whole thing, Ryan almost missed. One inch to the left and it would’ve been Eddie who received the jolt of electricity.

A few weeks later when Uncle Wayne found out who his nephew was dating now, he started going back to church.

Unlike Eddie, he actually does watch the show.

[meabh-mcinness]

In Sickness

Humans do not have 'Evil Cycles' it's true. However, they can bend under stress in other ways. Some lose their minds and others present more physical symptoms. With all the stress of parenting, working as a teacher, and doing your best to make sure no one figures out either your or Iruma's rather human status, it's no wonder you fall victim to a stress fever. Luckily for you, the resident gargoyle demon is more than happy to help nurse you back to health once he discovers your ill state.

This was originally created/inspired for @snippychicke because I love their Balam x reader story "For Sake of a Smile". While not finished yet it's incredibly well written and I would highly recommend it, also for Sleepylilacfox who writes "New Start: The Beginning of a Beautiful Life" on AO3 and wattpad which is a well-written FemIruma x Everyone story I highly recommend!

No TriggerWarnings! I think.

Main Masterlist

You quietly groaned at the massive headache that had made itself known to you the moment you had woken from your alarm. Head pounding, all you could do was curl into yourself just that much tighter. Pulling your blankets up further to block the almost nonexistent light from daybreak, you did your best to give the impression that you did not exist. If you did it well enough, perhaps you wouldn't, and then all your pain, physical or mental, would be gone as well.

Of course, you knew you couldn't. There were people who depended on you, Iruma depended on you. Never mind the entire school body of both students and teachers who needed you to do your job. And yet you just couldn't make yourself move, your brain just felt so slow and your body so heavy. Perhaps one day off wouldn't be so bad.

Right?

No, you needed to get up. There was paperwork to be done, you were supposed to supervise that new library project for Professor Farbas, and Professor Stolas was expecting your help with the greenhouse as they deconstructed the Harvest Festival. Slowly you started to undo your burrito wrap, mind racing with both nothing and everything you needed to do; like your classes needed teaching (who would have thought you'd be such a natural at your field) and you needed to –

"Fall back asleep, my lady." An even voice broke through the fog, and a cool hand placed itself gently onto your forehead, startling you. Red and yellow eyes stared unwaveringly into your hazy ones, slowly getting further away as you were gently pressed back down. When did they get here? There couldn't have been that much time spent after your alarm, and you hadn't even heard your door open, much less seen them come in.

"But Opera, I need to-" You started to get out and tried to push back up but were quickly silenced when they easily overpowered you despite still feeling like they were only barely touching you. Seriously, were you just that weak, or was the Cat demon just the embodiment of excessive strength?

"While I am not often in the business of disobeying my masters," that was a straight-up lie, they disobeyed Sullivan all the time, "it is my belief that what you need is a couple of days rest. You have been overworking yourself, the same as Master Iruma does. Had you been a demon, you would have already entered an Evil cycle, even now I worry you still will." Opera stated while fixing your blankets to lay over you properly again.

"Humans don' evil cycle," you tried to protest, slurring the sentence out. They only had mental breakdowns, and you did far more things at once in a shorter amount of time in the human world than here while staying completely sane. Honestly, you felt as if you had barely any work here and were taking advantage of Sullivan's kindness. For the most part you just spent your days reading, keeping an eye on the school library, and teaching classes. And when you weren't working you were hanging out with your family or the other teachers. You did occasionally (often) help others out as well, but not enough that you felt you had taken on to much.

"Royal one." They rebutted easily, cutting through your thoughts, causing you to flinch.

Iruma's overnight personality change had thrown you all for a loop. Though you had come out of your shock far quicker than anyone else seemed to; you were certain Sullivan was still traumatized. After all, Iruma was a teenager and more than deserved a rebellion or two after the life he had!

You also may or may not have let slip to the janitors that you were worried Iruma wouldn't know Kalego meant all the faculty employed at the school and not just the teachers.  Your own personal rebellion against Kalego when he tried to bully you into not helping the misfit class, but that was another story, and therefore another thought that needed burying at the moment.

After all, you had a feline to bargain with right now. Or make that felines, when you barely made out the faint pitter-patters of small feet coming into your room. The resident hellcats making their way in to back up their leader.

Before you could even open your mouth and try, though, Opera successfully managed to wrap you up in a sheet under the comforter so that you couldn't even try to get up. And on top of that, the two resident hellcats have decided to jump up and lay on top of you. You blinked in confusion, you hadn't been that deep in thought, had you? Still, you were determined to try, even if the blankets were so warm and heavy with the hellcats' weight, and you could just make out a light circling pressure on the edges of both sides of your temporal.

You tried to struggle but you barely even wiggled and succeeded only in making one of the hellcats readjust itself with a yawn and close its eyes again.  You were close to joining it, but still, you tried to hang on.

"O-per-a," you slurred out slowly before your traitorous body gave in to the persistent demon. Your eyes closed and you knew no more.

**********

You were quite rudely awoken by a quiet knocking sound later.

At first, you weren't even sure you had heard knocking or if it was the hellcats moving on. Still feeling the warmth but lacking a good amount of pressure made you decide it was simply them leaving and curled back up under the blanket. Until the sound returned, rousing you slightly more.

Groggily, you poked your head out of your blanket-made cocoon. You fully expected to have to shield away from the daylight, only to find the room pleasantly dark, curtains drawn shut.

You vaguely remembered Opera coming in and putting you back to sleep; one turn of the head confirmed that it wasn't a dream. A small tray with a kettle, two different-sized glasses, and what appeared to be a note sat on the bedside table. You would bet your life that the kettle and smaller cup were filled with steaming hot 

Hell-gray tea (Opera's specialty, for they never seemed to make anything else, though to be fair you wouldn't know what to ask for), and the taller of the two glasses with cold water. They must have closed the curtains as well on their way out. You would have to thank them later for their thoughtfulness, though you still felt this was all quite unnecessary.

You were drawn out of your thoughts once again by a third knocking. Still faint and barely there, though more easily heard now that you were more awake. You were tempted to drink some tea and bury your head, never to be seen again, but the knocker seemed quite persistent. Steadily getting louder and faster with each repetition. So, with a tired sigh and great effort, you heaved yourself out of your comfy bed, only to flinch at the cold floorboards.

'Whoever was at the door better have a good reason for being here,' you thought as you made your way out of your room towards the front door with heavy steps.  It surprised you, how slow you were moving. It was as if every muscle in your body had been replaced with lead and were still expected to move.

'Was the front door always this far away?' Perhaps it was a good idea you stayed home. If you were this slow and a student got into some kind of trouble, you would never be fast enough to help them in this condition. And after all, Opera hadn't said you couldn't do paperwork from home.

But first to deal with this intruder.

You swore, as you opened the massive front doors, that if this was some delivery Sullivan ordered for the nth time since you and Iruma came, you were going to tear him-

"Balam-sensei!" you choked out, surprised at the massive demon standing on the other side. This was most definitely not who you were expecting as your bleary eyes did their best to make out his pale skin and white hair from the blinding noon sun. If it wasn't for his recognizable dark clothes and eyes, your blurred vision might not have noticed him at all.

Squinting, you tried to look him in the eyes as best as you could, but the shine of his metal mask reflecting the already bright sun made it hard to look even close to his face, much less that high up it. You ended up settling on staring at his fur collar, watching it sway in the slight breeze. Just high enough to see his face in your preferential vision but low enough for his own body to block a majority of the rays.

To be honest, you did expect a delivery demon or even Kalego to drag you to work as one of the few people the misfit class voluntarily listened to. Not the resident biologist, whose happiness for the two humans' existence in the Netherworld could probably rival Sullivan's. Considering his rather high paranoia of discovery where you and Iruma were concerned, though, maybe this shouldn't have been such a shock.

And, oh, his eyes were crinkling with furrowed brows. At least you thought they were, it was hard to see the white eyebrows against his skin on your best days. Oh no, had he been talking this whole time?

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" you croaked out, wincing at the way your voice cracked. You had to focus! What if he was here to report a serious issue, and you were just standing there zoning out?

"Ah, I was just saying hello and how I noticed you weren't here today. Opera told the staff you were on the verge of an evil cycle," he started to fidget here, one hand raising to rub at his no longer shaved neck. You blinked, was it just you, or was his hair several inches longer than when you last saw him a few days ago?

"But when Iruma stopped by during lunch, he mentioned that humans just didn't have those." He eyed you questionably as if asking if his information was correct as he continued. You nodded in confirmation; it was true after all.

"We don't," you added verbally to his unasked question, "even if Opera is entirely convinced otherwise." You tilted your head to the side in confusion. You may have been a bit slow today, but "that doesn't explain why you're here, though?" The words slipped out before you could stop them. Never mind, you were slow today.

A matching set of flushed skin appeared on both of your faces, though for different reasons. Yours was for embarrassment for not being able to keep control of your own mouth, his for being called out. It was true, when you later thought about it, he could have simply phoned or even just asked Opera or Sullivan privately.  The hand rubbing his neck pulled away before awkwardly pushing his two index fingers together, eyes staring down at them as they pushed against each other repeatedly.

"I... may have gotten a bit anxious that it was something more serious and decidedly human, so others couldn't know. With my classes done for the day, I rushed over after Iruma left, to make sure you were okay."

You felt your heart clench a bit at his words. Seriously, how did this being exist? He was the literal embodiment of a giant teddy bear, and quite honestly, you wanted to give in and squeeze him in a hug. Thankfully, though, your brain hadn't left you behind that much, not yet at least. The longer you stood here though the more certain you were that it would.

"Thank you for rushing over to see me, but I can assure you I'm fine. I'm sorry for worrying you. The only reason I skipped today is that Opera trapped me in bed and lulled me back to sleep." You spoke nonchalantly, despite being slightly irritated at the whole thing. You were determined to get on Opera about this. Even if they were slowly being proven right, it didn't mean you were happy to admit it.

Some clouds flew overhead blocking the sun, leaving you in the blissful shade, almost as if the Netherworld itself could feel your frustration at the feline demon. Sighing in relief for your poor eyes you looked up at Balam properly and froze. Or, perhaps, the clouds had been a warning.

His entire body was tensed up and his eyes were zeroed in on you with such focus you honestly felt a bit like prey, much like the first time you encountered him. It took everything in you to not slam the door and hide in the deepest darkest corner you could find until safety arrived, or the threat left. You mentally shook yourself; this was Balam, he would never hurt you. Even if he could be intense at times, he never meant harm from it, often seeking the opposite result even.

"Ba-"

"You lied." He stated bluntly. Huh?

"I-Wha?" You were so startled by what he said you couldn't even form a sentence. Lied? When? Everything you stated was the truth as far as you knew. Opera had essentially trapped you; they had made it quite clear that you would not be leaving that bed even if they had to tie you down. While they hadn't physically said it, you could just tell that they would.

"You lied," Balam repeated, "Just now."

You shoved yourself off the door-frame you were leaning on (when had you leaned on it in the first place?) and stared indignantly at him. "What part of what I just said was a lie? I would expect you of all demons to understand Opera's strength especially compared to a normal demon much less-"

"Not that part." Balam interrupted, short-circuiting your brain. Not that part? But what other part was there? "When you said you were fine, you were lying," He took a step closer to you, hands reaching out to grasp your shoulders so lightly that if you didn't see them, you wouldn't have known they were there. "Where are you hurt? Was Opera too rough? Do you need medical attention?"

"I'm not injured though?" You blinked incredulously at him. You were certain you were not lying about that. Sure, you may still have a crazy strong headache and you felt dizzy just standing here, and your muscles did still feel like lead. Or maybe concrete the longer you stood here, or was it the other way around? It had been so long since your physic class days and your head was getting fuzzier by the minute. Regardless you were fine. You've experienced far worse things and still worked; this was nothing new.

His head tilted slightly and moved closer to your own. So close, in fact, that you could see that what you once thought were tiny irises were actually pupils, surrounded by incredibly light grey rings that made up his actual irises. To be honest you thought it was very pretty and slightly memorizing, especially in your current non-focusable state. So memorizing in fact that even though you watched them move back and forth across your face as if searching for something, you barely processed it.

"That's good, I believe you" You let out a sigh of relief at that, "however."

However?

Eh?

"Ehhh!? Balam-sensei!" you couldn't help but shout in surprise at suddenly being lifted into his arms. Your legs were thrown over one of his arms and his other arm supported your back easily, even lightly pressing you to lean against his chest. You gripped his tank top right under the fur collar tightly and closed your eyes in both shock and to protect yourself against sudden vertigo that plagued you from the unexpected fast movement. A furious blush spread across your face as you tried to comprehend what exactly was happening.

"Sorry, but you're swaying as if you're about to fall over. Even if you're not physically injured, you're clearly not fine." He apologized while walking into the mansion and shutting the door behind him with one of his feet. "Not to mention your eyes are glazed over and your face has been getting paler and paler since we've started talking. Where's your bedroom? I can't believe Opera left you alone in this state, I can feel the heat radiating from you more than normal and it's upstairs, is it?" Balam continued without stopping for breath even once, barely even acknowledging when you weakly pointed towards the large staircase in the center of the room, still dazed and flustered from your sudden position in his arms. If he was worried about you being pale, that problem had been fixed with the searing hot blush that covered your entire face to your ears and refused to leave.

Ah, you suddenly realized. This must be one of those famous Balam scoldings Iruma warned you about. You buried your face in his chest, silky fur collar tickling the top of your head like the feathers you saw in those ear-cleaning videos back in the human world. Briefly, you wondered if they had the same practices here. (Later you would find out that they did in fact do them and that Opera was trained in it. You obviously did not put this knowledge to use later on. Not at all.)

Pressed against Balam like this you could feel, more than hear him lecture. A low rumble in his body worked in tandem with the strong beat of his heart and gentle steps. Despite his grumblings, he was extremely delicate with you, with barely enough pressure from his arms to keep you in place and slow methodical movements as he made his way upstairs without jostling you. You could feel yourself starting to relax and zone out again as he continued to berate both you and the absent Opera. Who knew being chastised could be so relaxing?

He found your room rather easily, despite your lack of help after your initial point. While it wasn't the only, nor the first, room open on the second floor, it was the only one with both a strong smell of fresh tea and something undeniably you. Entering it almost cautiously, Balam gave it a cursory once over, unable to deny this small piece of instinct in unfamiliar territory while holding precious cargo. Deeming it safe he quickly laid you back in your bed and moved to pull your blankets back over you, fussing to get them just right. Once he deemed it good enough, he kneeled by your side and brushed some loose hair from your face, before settling his hand on your forehead.

Despite the mask covering half his face, you could tell there was a huge frown marring it. You wanted desperately to wipe it away. He had become too precious to you to have anything other than a smile.

"You're so warm," he mumbled, seeming to have stopped his tirade for now. That was nothing new. As a human, you had discovered that both your and Iruma's bodies ran hotter than the average demon's. To the point that you had even been mistaken as a fire-based demon by multiple others, which you had found quite funny considering your affinity for water and ice runes. You even laughingly reminded him of such before dissolving into a fit of coughs, body curling in on its side.

Oh. Oh no. No, you refused to believe it. You weren't sick, you simply must have choked on some air when laughing.

.....

That sounded weak even to your addled brain. Especially since the longer you laid here the more you could feel just how off you were. Seriously how did you not notice? Was the Netherworld so much better that you had forgotten what it felt like to be sick? The resounding yes in your mind was very loud and you chose to ignore it.

Well, you counseled yourself, at least you could tell Opera that they were wrong about the possible evil cycle. It was simply your body betraying you to whatever was infecting it. And oh, you were not looking forward to the simply insane fest that was going to occur when Sullivan found out you were sick. You mournfully resigned yourself to his hysterics already.

When the last cough rattled out of your chest you breathed harshly while unfurling your body again. Bleary eyes focused on the sudden appearance of a glass in front of your face as you recognized a sensation fluttering in circles on your back. You gave the panicked-looking gargoyle in front of you a grateful smile as you carefully leaned up, grasped the drink, and took a sip.

Cold water traveled pleasantly down your throat, spreading its soothingly frosty touch throughout your chest. Once you had your fill you handed back the glass and flumped fully down again. The pressure on your back never lets up once and you take a minute to fully savor the feeling. How long had it been since you enjoyed the touch of another like this?

The longer you laid here, focusing on feeling the ministrations on your back and just trying to breathe, the hazier you could feel your mind becoming again. Almost as if a fog was just rolling through your mind, blowing away any conscious thoughts and leaving only a mess behind. While you heavily disliked not being all there, never truly feeling safe enough to zone out, you much preferred it to the pain of the migraine you had woken up with.

Sullivan's desire for you to have the best of the best meant the fluffy bed you were laying on took away the weighted feeling of your lead filled limbs. Combined with your increasingly hazy mind meant you felt something similar as to floating in space kept grounded only by the feeling of the gargoyle's hand and the itchiness slowly growing in your throat. 

You could feel sleep trying to claim you again and you were honestly more than willing to answer its call. Now that you acknowledged you were sick it was easy to want to stay in bed and just sleep through it all. You were well acquainted with what would happen next and had no desire to actually be awake for it. As much as a tiny voice in the back of your head yelled that you should push through it, it was just as it easy to squish it when your brain went all fuzzy.

Until it abruptly stopped as Shichirou pulled away and said something. You didn't even bother trying to understand him and simply whined at the loss of contact, reaching out blindly towards where you thought he was. Briefly you wondered when you closed your eyes but just as quickly threw the thought out. It wasn't needed. What was needed you had decided, making grabby motions at him, was for the contact to continue.

One eye squinting open you found, quite frustratingly, he wasn't even looking at you. Instead he was moving things about on the tray as a sudden vine reached across the wall from your bedroom holding a small container. You watched him screw up the container and shake a small amount into the tea cup. Swirling the cup to mix the powdery mess with the tea Opera had left behind, he eyed it critically before nodding to himself and turning back to you.

Finally you had his attention, making another whining sound and reaching out for him again you ignored the cup and grabbed the outer part of his hand instead. A low chuckling sound hit your ears as his other arm wrapped under your side and gently hauled you up. With the cup now close to your face you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose at the off putting scent rising from it.

"Just drink this darling and I promise you can go back to sleep." You threw him your best (most pitiful) dubious glare before relenting and opening your lips just a bit. The slightly thick liquid that poured into your mouth reminded you of pepto bismal, if pepto tasted like oranges that was. When the cup was drained, he carefully laid you back down again, smoothing your hair out of your face.

"As promised I'll leave you be to sleep," he pushed b back one last stand and started to rise to leave. Leave? Well that certainly wouldn't do. You hand lashed out faster than it had any right to and gripped his again. Eyes widened in surprise as he looked at your combined hands before locking with yours with a question already on his lips.

"Stay?" You asked, a pout already forming on your lips at his possible refusal. "Please? Just till I fall asleep at least." His face softened immediately and nodded his consent.

Tugging his hand closer to you, so that his knuckles were tucked directly under your chin and the length of his arm ran down your body. Legs pulling up so his elbow was just barely locked in between your knees. You never fully realized how tiny you were in comparison before. The length of his forearm alone was the same as your torso's. Logically, in a different situation such a size difference would frighten you. But here and now, curled around something that could easily harm you brought only the feeling of safety.

It was rather easy to drift off to sleep in that position as his other hand came up and started petting your head, rubbing away any potential headaches before they could even start. When you were better again you might regret this (highly unlikely, you were going to treasure this feeling forever) but for now you would fully relax and just drift off.

**********

A shuffling followed by a quiet chuckling-like noise drew you out of your sleep. Groaning you opened your eyes to try to find the source of the disturbance in your sleep yet again. You were facing the wall with your vanity against it and able to, rather blearily, see your room door through it. 

Through the mirror, you could see a pair of bright red ear-like horns poking through a crack in your vine-covered door along with a blue scythe-like antenna just underneath it. Opera and Iruma your mind supplied and judging by the pale clawed hand far higher up the door, Sullivan was there too. But that wasn't what caught your mind addled attention.

Just behind you was an incredibly large moving lump sharing your blankets. It was only then that you realized that you were not only laying on something long and hard but that something of the same shape and size was carelessly tossed over your middle as well. Arms. You were being held by someone. That woke you up quite a bit. As your mind frantically raced to remember what happened before you fell back asleep again you felt said arms tighten around you fractionally as a muffled groan came from behind you. A groan that you were quite familiar with, even in its sleepy form.  

Balam Shichirou.

Was in your bed.

You were almost positive your head was going to explode from how hard you were blushing. Your hands drew up and covered your face as you fought the squeal demanding to escape your throat. As your memories came back, you vaguely recalled grabbing him and asking him to stay, but you didn't think he would join you in bed too! 

As if sensing your plight in his sleep, his large arms drew you further into his embrace, nose nuzzling into your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn't want to admit how much it made your body relax to feel it but as the tension left, you could feel sleep calling you again. Resolving not to deal with this when you were still in the throes of whatever sickness had claimed you, you resolutely turned away from the mirror and into the safety of the wall of flesh and feathers behind you.

"愛してる Shichirou...." You whispered as you fell back asleep, nuzzling back up against his warm chest as his arms unconsciously wrapped around you even tighter.

*At a later date *

"Thanks for the book, Balam-sensei!" Iruma said, antenna wagging happily as he held the new book to his chest. Unlike the heavy textbooks the human boy usually got with his classes, he quite enjoyed the picture books he got from the gargoyle teacher.

Said teacher leaned forward and patted Iruma's head, ruffling the blue hair about as he smiled at him.

"It's my pleasure, really. I'm just glad that you enjoy them and that they're so helpful to you." Balam said as he drew his arm back. "How are your studies coming along by the way?"

Iruma's eyes sparkled in pride, "I've gotten far better! I'm getting an average of seventies thanks to everyone's help! You, Kalego-sensei, Mom, Azz-kun, Clara, and everyone else. You've all helped me come so far, and I can't wait to go further!" Iruma clenched one of his fists in determination.

Shichirou looked at the small human boy and felt something akin to parental pride. To a demon ambition was everything, and to see this child who had such a big disadvantage in the Netherworld giving his absolute all to see his goals through, and manage it. It was amazing and reminded him all the time why he found living things so beautiful.

Among other beings. Which reminded him...

"Hey Iruma-kun," Shichirou started, as he unconsciously drew the boy into his lap to pet him some more, "I have another human question if you don't mind?"

Iruma tilted his head in confusion, giving a rather devipup image in his mind, before nodding his head in consent.

"What does 愛してる mean in the human language?"

"....Eh? EHH!?!"

___________

*Fun fact; 愛してる (or ai shiteru in romaji) translates roughly to I love you and is only used when the person is absolutely certain in their romantic feelings for their partner. The meaning is so strong that it's actually very rarely used in real life, even between married partners!

Or at least that's what my studies say ^u^'/ If you're native Japanese please correct me if I'm wrong!

This turned out way longer than I expected it to, which is part of the reason it so long to get out(it was supposed to be out in Nov ಥ ͜ʖಥ). The other is that I actually fell into a stress cold, because of course I did, while in the middle of writing e.e and then life struck. But hey, it's out now!

Also I may or may not make Kalego and Opera versions of this

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie⁓

Brief intro 'cause I'm so late to do everything this monday, goddammit.

Or...

CoDdammit. Lol.

Sorry

That's a "dialogued chapter". I love dialogues.

I lllllove them.

Next time i'll give you some more action, i promise.

Maybe. I suck at scheduling things

DISCLAIMERS: GhostxYou yelling time; Price is so good at being a psychologist i don't even know why he's a soldier; Soap risking his life by being a little too funny; Gaz doesn't like coffee; dialogues that last halves of hours; roommates enjoyining their time alone; brain gets error 404 on how-to-behave correctly;

................................

Sixth part here:

................................

«I bet someone'd fought the other day»

Price appears behind you, and incredibly, it's not breakfast time: it's like 4pm, and you're not used to seeing him somewhere which is not Laswell's office.

You let the weight fall from your hand, breathing heavily; lately, gym is the only thing that allows you to not explode like a goddamn balloon in a cactus field.

You exhale: «…did he tell you?»

«Didn't need to tell me. We heard the yells»

«…ah»

He sighs, sitting on a bench. «Some things are better to be told under your breath. Particularly if they are personal. And above all, if they're the kinda things you were talking about-»

«You're telling me you've heard that i-!» You say almost in a hurry, immediately biting your lips. «…sorry Captain»

«You don't need to be sorry»

«No? And…what about being bewildered?»

He frowns. And you find the intimacy of the gym, combined with Price's soft eyes and his bear you're so tempted to pet, comfortable enough to open up a little.

As if you've not behaved like an open book since you'd made the first breakfast with the Task Force.

«Look» you preempt every possible objection about not being professional on a military base (since you know you're not) «I don't wanna be a burden, or cause problems. I-I know you've already got plenty of them…»

And he anticipates you with a sigh: «…but?», knowing so well you're about to stream out a flow of that sort of thing girls tell their besties at pajama party nights.

«But…but I don't know how to handle the Lt! I…just don't know. It seemed to me we got along well but, apparently, we weren't. We are not. I mean» your hands gesticulate above you to draw the speech in the air «one day he almost broke my arm, then he helped me get rid of some sort of stalker, but the day after he offended me and told me to shut my mouth. I don't know! I don't know how the hell I am supposed to-»

«Is this bothering you?»

«Yes!» You almost yell, emptying your lungs with a sigh.

Price's humming fills the silence for a while. «Ok. I'll make sure to put you under someone else's supervision-»

«No»

You bite your tongue again, and he smiles under the bear; you know he did. He was expecting your answer, but doesn't need to make you feel bad about how much of a childish behavior this is. He pats your shoulder: «Ghost speaks through sarcasm. Not that easy to handle. But if he doesn't ignore you, then he likes you. That's what we've learned 'bout him»

«What about him being touchy?»

Now you can add to your "goal list of the year" that you've made Price slightly blush; and he can't deny it, even if he hides the red under a bear scratching. He doesn't even ask you about the kind of "touchy" behavior you're speaking of, so you imagine that, somehow, he already knows…things.

«Again» he sighs. «Does this bother you?»

Fists are clenched around the thumbs, squeezing them hard, and your sight is focused on the weights abandoned on the floor. You feel some sort of heat climbing up your tights thinking about how much Ghost's touch did notbother you. But your brain doesn't allow you to admit it. 'Cause it bothers you not being able to find him bothering just enough to officially make him stop, and you're just hoping he'll quit somehow 'cause old memories and vices are frighteningly awakening in you. 

«It would be better» and saying this costs you a lot of swallowed cravings «if he stops»

«Mh» 

It doesn't seem like he is falling for it. But he doesn't ask further.

«I'll speak to him»

And you can just give your beautiful Captain the best smile you've got.

«I just can't believe that bloody woman is a…whatever»

«People in bed are different from people in war, Lt»

Ghost glares at Soap through his fifth coffee of the day.

«Why, thank you, Sergeant. I'll engrave your pearl of knowledge on my tombstone» 

«It'll be ma pleasure»

«What is it?»

Two pairs of eyes turn at Gaz, who's peeking from the opposite side of the table. None of them is a "snack" kinda guy, but this afternoon really calls for a break.

And Ghost's drinking coffee. Again.

The Lt. gazes back at Kyle.

«What?»

«You're not drinking tea anymore» he claims, suspicious.

«Are ya afraid I'll turn into a Scottish?»

Soap grins: «aha, not funny», as he rummages through the pile of recruits' tests that need to be checked. «Look, look at this, bloody Jesus, I-» He tooks away one sheet in particular, waving it around. «How the hell is she capable of runnin' like a-a...dunno!»

«Who're you talking about?»

«Our laddie» He spits out with a smirk. «Christ, she does have working lungs, look at her running test results!» 

«'Course she has, or she won't be able to yell like that»

The whole office turns silent around Price's words. He enters with a smirk, nodding at his desk full of plastic glasses.

«When did the tea party start?»

«Sorry Cap., promise we ain't eaten all the cupcakes»

He grunts, heavenly sliding on his goddamn chair (spared by the misappropriation). He waves his head at Ghost:

«I've got complaints»

That makes him say his second: «…what?» in, like, two minutes.

«Our little one» Price explains «is politely asking you to stop being…you know what»

«An asshole?» is Johnny's supposition.

«A shithead?» is Kyle's.

«Surely someone's gonna be bloody dead meat» is Ghost's ultimatum. 

«I've spoken» are Price's last words, before he stretches his limbs so hard his bones crack, making Gaz shiver with a: «damn Cap., go see a fucking osteopath»

Then a mumbling is heard from Ghost's mask, almost chomped in his teeth as he tried not to let his thoughts hiss out of his mouth. But he fails, and everyone can hear: «fucking child, not grown enough to tell me by herself»

It makes Soap almost burst into a laugh he chokes in his guts, exploding in a sudden cough. 

«Ya ok bud?»

«Aye, aye…'s just…» Johnny takes a breath, gaining some air. «'S funny to look at you two playing the “cordless phone” game»

Ghost doesn't like this. Not a bit, not a single word.

«What do you mean?» He snaps.

«Why don't you just talk frankly to her?»

«I've nothing to say»

«Bullshit. You've been yelling at each other for one week»

«You're a bloody blabbermouth»

«'M sorry, it was impossible not to hear you. Why are ye even so mean to her? You two started well»

«I'm not here to make friends»

«Maybe ye could get a girlfriend instead»

«Johnny»

Price intervenes before Ghost decides his knife fists better in Soap's throat than in his hand. Captain gives his boys one of his gazes. 

«That doesn't have anything to do with you, so, even if you know every crumb of this shit cake…shut your holes. 'K?»

And they do it. They shut up, since they neither want a telling-off from their Cap., nor Ghost's knife in their butt.

The day was kinda ruined, though. At least, Simon's day. And he spends the rest working hours glaring back at everyone, avoiding speaking and trying to shut the echo of Soap's voice in his head. 'Cause he hates to admit it (and he wouldn't do it even under torture) but that goddamn man was right: it was just a matter of speaking with her honestly. Without being a dick.

Fuck; that last part could have been a problem.

The fact is…problems that are killing his synapsis are actually two.  

Price managed to get one of them, and maybe it's pretty obvious even for the rest of the team. But the other mental pirouette is what is really eating him alive. And he doesn't have enough teeth to clench, cheeks to devour internally, fists to smash on the door to avoid thinking about it.

'Cause one thing is liking you.

One other is wanting you. In a bad, absolutely not polite and caring, incredibly violent way.

Abstinence surely is one of the worst tortures. He's used to it, though: both to abstinence and torture. So it shouldn't be a problem, but it is, and he can't deal with it, he can't accept it, it's just unbearable and…and…

And Ghost almost starts to think everything is so overwhelming at the point of giving him hallucinations, as he hears…something.

Something familiar.

He stops next to a door, and it takes him one second to realize what door it is, and who's behind that door.

And what sound he had just heard. 

And in that one second of chaotic information riddling his brain…he hears it again.

A moan. A cute one, so muffled and soft that it was almost inaudible.

His eyes slid to the room door. 

That's your room. 

And, if he remembers well, the big crazy woman of your roommate is currently out on a mission. Therefore, you're alone.

All alone.

Absolutely alone.

So alone that you're, evidently, enjoying your moment of privacy a little too much.

He's about to knock at your door, or to burst in, he doesn't know, he'll figure it out somehow, but as his hands brush against the door knob there's another moan, so soft, so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

«What are you…doing?»

He jumps, his heart skips a couple beats as he jerks alarmed eyes to look at who's just appeared next to him.

He almost faints when he sees you. Thank god the mask is covering his face, otherwise you would see a jubilance of embarrassment and fear, red and deathly white.

You're standing, a toothbrush in your hand and in your feet the insecurity of someone who doesn't know if to make an u-turn and pretend you've seen nobody, or stay and wait for an excuse.

Him too, he seems to choose the "excuse" kinda behavior: he coughs, straightening his spine at his limit to stand taller, more confident. 

And he talks, but words are not as dry as he would like: «I came to see y-TO» he suddenly withdraws «to make sure you're going to be at the meeting tomorrow mornin'» the last few words become a mutter.

Silence follows. Moments of strange silence, oddly, densely fluffy, as if you're looking at the scene from above a cloud.

W H A T 

That's what your mind is flashing while you're discharging your incredulity on the poor toothbrush.

«I…» You start, with the intention of saying something sensible, really, to make the most of this occasion and let him know how fucked it's his way to handle people, sarcasm or not. «We just-like-we've almost…in your…yesterday» you start all over again «you've treated me like a wannabe whore»

He immediately hurries: «Wasn't my intention to-»

«I'm sorry if it wasn't, you'd done it» You shut him. You shut your goddamn Lt., and this isn't even the first time. «I can't hold up with this anymore»

«With what?»

«You» You spit, clenching your fist around the toothbrush. «With you, ok? I-I-look, i know this couldn't-you're my superior, I'm sorry if I'm being…disrespectful? I'm sorry» words start to rush from your lips, eyes are wandering around, in search of a cute way to avoid yelling at him again. «But you're so…»

«…So?»

«Unreadable. Unbearable» adjectives slip through your mouth, sharpened and straight to his heart. Or at least you hope. «I can't work with nerves at a razor's edge»

«I supposed you already knew we've to work under all conditions»

«These are not normal conditions, don't just spit the whole thing out»

«Explain, than»

«You know!» You muffle the voice. «Stop teasing me, 's like you've got some sort of dual personality! Anyway, I've already spoken with Price and-»

«He'd told me» He cuts your speech. «But I'd rather your pretty voice gives me clarifications»

«We've already fought on this point, like, five times!»

«What point»

«You make fucking fun of me!». This time you yell, then immediately bite your lips. You feel like he's teasing you, and obviously the joke's always on you. «That's the point! And all 'cause-'cause I've moaned once, and somehow now you hate me because I've made you turned on!»

«I-»

«First you treat me like some kinda hoe, then you protect me from stalkers, but one minute later you make fun of-of-! Do you know» you're rushing disconnected words, and your toothbrush is pointed at his face threateningly «how fucking difficult it was for me to open up about my goddamn kink? Do you know??»

«Listen-»

«But I've done it! I've done it 'cause you're a superior of mine, and I want, I swear to god, I WANT to respect you, to-to trust you and be at ease with you like I used to till a bloody week ago!!»   

You're breathing so heavily your lungs' movements are making your whole body wave. Stern, ice-cold eyes are locked on him, and you don't even know how you've managed to gaze at his mask for so long.

There are times in which you need to make a choice in a matter of seconds. Simple ones: putting salt first in the pot, or going first with pasta when water boils; wait a little at the coffee machine to make the espresso a long one; going to the bathroom before putting nail polish; picking up the book you're supposed to study instead of the phone with you're gonna fuck around with for the rest of the day…

Simple things. Ordinary choices.

Like biting your tongue before talking shits (that's what you're not doing), or speaking before it's too late (that's what he's not doing).

And you two face each other in a silent sights fight, spiced with rage and frustration, every muscle tensed and every fist clenched, teeth tight and cheeks chomped from the inside.

You'd like to burst into tears.

He'd like not to be a dick. For once.

And the whole situation is unlocked by another sudden, soft moan from the room. 

You instantly get red in every inch of skin; he widens his eyes, just able to say:

«What the fuck-»

«Sorry» you're so fucking embarrassed you can't even stand his sight anymore. «Sorry, i-i've…i've given Bernie some "solo-time", and she…uhm…apparently-»

«Hold on». His tone changes so suddenly, turning into a hurried, awkward question: «Is Bernadette Kelly inside?»

«Y-yeah»

«Wasn't she supposed to be on a mission?»

«She was a substitute, in case Fisher couldn't do it. But he managed to go»

«…oh»

«…oh?»

He's lucky the black makeup disguises his redness so well, since he can feel how hot his face is under the mask, as he wonders how it could have ended if he had rushed inside the room to Bernadette touching herself.

«…ok. Well, no. But…ok, 's ok» He mumbles to himself, allowing his brain two seconds to readjust the thoughts's stream. 

«Ok?»

It pisses you off so much you don't know where to restart the angry mood. 

And you do it in the worst way possible, blowing out a mean: «you've thought it was me, didn't you? Were you ready to scold me again 'cause "I haven't got enough dignity to be a soldier", and then feel allowed to touch me?»

You're ready for everything, you're wearing armor in berserk mode: you can face him yelling at you, threatening, flirting, scolding, putting blame on you, taking you at gunpoint, punching you or throwing a burrito at you, you don't care.

You're ready. You're waiting.

Aaand waiting.

Aaaaaand waiting.

'Cause he's not moving, so frozen in place you're wondering if he's still breathing.

Ghost's not an evil man. He's not violent, he's not an asshole.

He's just having a metaphorical system error in his software that's reminding him he has not, in his goddamn entire life, dealt with such a duty. 

And he doesn't know how to: he doesn't know if it's better a silenced gun or a sniper, to do stealth or to burst in the house with a grenade; he doesn't know if it'll be a dangerous mission or a walk in the park kinda thing.

He doesn't' know, 'cause his only way to solve these problems is being a dick and waiting till the counterpart gets enough of him, and just leaves him alone.

But this time he doesn't even know if he wants to be left alone.

And so, with his mind blown up and just your toothbrush in his eyesight…

He left.

Without a word.

He turns his heels, leaving you in the corridor.

................................

[stoneagedevil]

Could you please write Hannibal x reader or Hannigram x reader where (fem or g/n) reader loves wholesome video games & don’t know how to dress themselves in any style besides comfy.

It’s up to you but maybe one where he doesn’t feel like he needs to “upgrade” or change them to have them fit into his life.

Not Like Them | Hannibal x Reader

TW/CW: Mention of insomnia, insecurity, nothing graphic.

When people first met you, their eyes never met yours directly, but instead the purple bags underneath them.

So, because of this track record, this is exactly what you expected was going to happen at dinner tonight. Dinner with Hannibal’s esteemed coworkers. People that Hannibal spent much of his time with. People that Hannibal spent much of his time fooling.

Of course, your cover was perfect - it was called “being yourself.” You were a detective who suffered from insomnia, constantly investigating under your alias until you couldn’t, and from there indulging in Animal Crossing: New Horizons on the exclusive Animal Crossing themed Nintendo Switch, something Hannibal insisted you have.

And goodness. How could you possibly resist? You were a sucker for adorable things.

Hannibal was too.

Cut to you now. Sitting on the edge on the master bed with your sweatpant-covered legs tucked up under your chin, ensuring the flowers on your island were perfect - only red ones as well. Despite the outward stillness of your body, your heart was racing, and Hannibal took notice.

“Y/N, my darling you’ve nothing to worry about. I can practically smell the worry seeping from you.” Hannibal mused, ironing a part of a three-piece for tonight’s dinner.

“I’m not like them, Hannibal. Not even like you - not completely. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you with my attendance.” You advised him, sadly. At those words he immediately stopped his task of pressing his dress pants, walking towards you and sitting with you on the edge of the bed.

You’d done your makeup very glamorously, your hair styled neatly, and you were pushing off putting on the outfit Hannibal picked out for you lest he changed his mind. You were sure it was a stunning dress, something that made you worry more. You constantly wore comfy clothing. You couldn’t possibly perch yourself in your seat in your workspace if you were wearing fancy clothing.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want to change you, Y/N. I picked out your outfit with you in mind. You can sit in that fascinatingly strange way you do.” He smiled as pushed himself off of the bed, going into your walk-in closet and pulling out a hanger dressed with a dress cover. When unzipped, you saw a black jumpsuit, elegant, but not overwhelmingly so.

“Do you really mean it Hannibal?” He’d gone through all of this trouble to ensure you were comfortable?

“Of course. I adore you. I adore your mind and they will too. You’re incredibly smart. How many criminals have you sent away? How many cold cases were solved under your supervision? You’re not like them because you’re smarter than them.” You smiled shyly, turning back to your perfect little garden.

It was your quirks and your ruthlessness to bring people to justice that Hannibal fell in love with, and he was sure that his coworkers would fall under the same spell.

—————-

Would you like a part 2 to this? I know it was short, but I thought it would be a good idea to cut it into 2 parts. Can you guess who I based the reader off of?

[devilsofficialfanfic]

The day you stop writing lodak is the day I die.

I don't know if you've done this yet but if you have the time, perhaps a story where sendak shyly asking lotor for a date and lotors like "we've been married for 2 years lol, sure"?

🥰

I don’t think I have done that yet, so here’s them being dorks:

Sendak was acting strangely, and Lotor wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t concerned about infidelity -he trusted Sendak more than anyone, and Sendak hardly so much as looked at anyone else -but he wasn’t sure what else it could be. Life was running very smoothly for them right now, smoother than ever, so…

He caught Sendak watching him, his ears fluttering back, in a way that indicated bashfulness. Lotor couldn’t remember Sendak ever being bashful, and anyway, it was out of character for him.

Everything else seemed normal. They slept in the same bed, woke up together, went about their days together, fucked most evenings (and sometimes throughout the day as well). Sendak still worshiped him, and Lotor reciprocated the best he could.

He was on the bridge, observing an exercise, when he figured out what was going on.

Mostly because Sendak revealed his hand, but-

Sendak came up to Lotor, looking incredibly nervous. “Sire,” he said, “could I have a moment of your time?”

”Of course,” Lotor said, confused. Sendak was rarely so formal with him, especially since the bridge crew was used to them. Maybe in a formal court setting, but here? During an exercise?

He followed Sendak to a semi-secluded alcove.

”Sendak,” Lotor asked, “is something wrong?”

”No,” Sendak said, still nervous, his ears bashfully twitching. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always,” Lotor said, only growing more concerned. This wasn’t normal behavior from Sendak.

“I was wondering,” Sendak began, his ears only pressing further and further back with each word, “if you might want to- Next time we go planetside, maybe you could come with me?”

“Like a date?” Lotor asked, wanting clarification.

“Yes,” Sendak said.

Lotor only barely stifled his laughter. “Darling,” he said, trying very hard not to laugh at Sendak, “darling, we’ve been married for two years. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.”

He leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss Sendak.

“Oh good,” Sendak murmured against Lotor’s lips, “I thought you might find it silly.”

“A little,” Lotor admitted, “but only because you thought you had to ask. I love spending time with you, my darling.”

”It’s just- things have been so…routine, since we got married,” Sendak said.

“You love routine,” Lotor said.

“Yes,” Sendak agreed, “but- I don’t want things to get stale between us. I love how unpredictable you can be. I love your passion and spontaneity.”

Lotor kissed him; his big scary Galra was such a romantic. “And I love how sweet and romantic you are,” Lotor said. “When is our date?”

Sendak’s nerves had completely vanished by this point, which made Lotor happy; his husband should feel safe enough with him to ask him anything. “Tomorrow night?”

“Sounds perfect,” Lotor said, wrapping his arms around Sendak’s shoulders; Sendak took this as a cue to pick him up, so Lotor also wrapped his legs around Sendak’s waist. “I think Haxus can supervise the rest of the exercise.”

Sendak hummed an agreement, and carried Lotor out of the alcove.

Lotor could practically feel the bridge’s collective exasperation. Galra were, in general, not a very demonstrative species, at least not in front of others, but that didn’t stop Lotor and Sendak from being all over each other.

“Commander Haxus,” Lotor said, as Sendak carried him off the bridge, “command of the rest of the exercise is yours. I’ll expect your report in the morning.”

“Yes, Sire,” Haxus said, studiously neutral. Lotor could still tell he was rolling his eyes.

He didn’t really care what anyone else thought about his relationship with Sendak, so it didn’t bother him.

“Take me home, darling,” he murmured to Sendak.

Sendak obliged.

-

I wrote this under the assumption that Sendak knew they were married. If you were envisioning a scenario where it’s like “actually, I thought we’ve been dating/married for two years” and there’s some miscommunication, I can definitely do that too 😉

[nelapanela94]

AGGHHH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU FOR THIS!! Congratulations on hitting 1k 🥹 you truly deserve it💜💜💜 your writing never fails to leave me and so many incredibly happy☺️🫂❤️‍🩹 or sad if it's angst hehe but overall everyone enjoys your writing :)

If you want to of course can you please consider prompts 1 and 28? IM SORRY IF THAT SOUNDED RUDE, I DONT KNOW HOW TO ASK THINGS LIKE THISS😭 BUT ONLY IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO OF COURSE

Thank you so much, Jasmine!!! Your words mean a lot to me <3 thank you thank you thank you!!!

WC: ~1k TW: fluff, enemies to lovers, ft. Hange-san. 1. “Are you blushing? Disgusting” 28.“When will you shut up and kiss me?”

With disdain, Levi’s eyes dawdle over you. Reeking of horse shit mingled with sweat, you shoot him a scornful glance, squeezing hard the sponge inside the bucket, counting to ten and refraining from tossing it at his crafted-by-angels face.

“What do you want?” You snap and groan to your feet. Your duties of the day roll down your face in the form of beads, your clothes speckled with patches of soapy water. You flick away a strand of shiny hair of your forehead and turn around; threads of sullied water fall on the muddy ground, your palms burning around the wringing sponge.

“I’m just supervising.” He nonchalantly says as he sweeps a finger on the railing of the barn doors and rubs it against his thumb. He tchs and swipes his gritty finger pads on his handkerchief. “You have to go through this again.”

“If you doubt my job, do it yourself then!”

“Can't. Paperwork.”

Smoke comes out from your ears as you spin on your heels; your gazes collide, your eyes warred a silent argument. His brows are puckered in a scowl, and you wish you could rub those wrinkles away with your thumb.

“Fucking go and leave me alone before smash a ball of horse shit on your face.” You jab a finger to his chest, his eyes flare, and a vein pops on his strained neck. What would it be like to pamper that curve with kisses?

Inwardly you smack your head for your weakness and call to mind why you hate him. Your fury, incandescent, blazes through your veins, swelling the tiny vessels under your cheeks.

He clasps his hand around your wrist, quivering, and a cold tingling creeps through your fingertips. Your trembling gaze scoots from his eyes to your hand back to his eyes; you pull to extricate from his grip, but he is unyielding.

He’s too close, too close, touching you, you’re afraid he might catch the erratic beating of your heart.

“Are you blushing? Disgusting.” He rucks up his face, as if he was touching dung, and hurls your hand away.

You blink twice, flummoxed as anger bubbles within you again. Your fists clench, and every inch of your tense.

Is he really that stupid, or is he only pretending?

“It’s sweltering and I’ve been raking the floor all morning!” You cry and push him off your way. “Asshole, asshole, asshole!” Your steps rumble as you storm out of the stables, tears peppering your eyelashes.

A horse neighs.

Levi’s eyes are hooked on your back until you disappear into the building.

He’s ruined it again, and now he’s certain you hate him.

Why is it so hard? Why does he have to make things so complicated? Why can’t he let things flow?

You sprinkled fairy dust on his heart and now it beats out of tune whenever you come around. And his brain, to protect him, must leash it back in place before he does something stupid. The only way he knows how is by being cold, tactless, and blunt.

He wants you; he’s never craved someone so fervently. He’s filled with a deep longing to coalesce with your skin, to feel your warmth wrapping him, shielding him from any harm. To find comfort in a late-night talk over a cup of tea; to cling to you; to feel your hands talking and manifest deep adoration. But like the tines of a rake, something scrapes and scrapes at his mind. Something that reminds him why he should keep people at an arm’s distance including you.

Especially you.

But if his brain and his heart don’t team up, he’ll lose his marbles.

His shoulders fall, and the thick defenses he has built over the years begin to crack.

“Don’t tell me you were your asshole self.”

An arm slings around his shoulders, and a frown mars his face.

Levi flinches away and folds his arms. “Asshole is a relative term.”

Hange sighs. Then a grin lights their face, eyes concealed behind the glint of their lenses. “How can you be so blind?” They pat his shoulder and trundles off before Levi gets the chance to ask what they’re talking about.

What is it that he cannot see. What is that he is refusing to see.

*

A long bath is what you needed to release the steam of your system, melting him away from your thoughts. But it only takes a few seconds before the pieces of his dry, unflappable face materialize again.

Your lilac tent dress billows around your knees with every spin, and on the mirror, you catch the wink of the golden hoops. You slip on your Adelaide boots, untangle your hair, and dab cocoa butter on your lips.

Levi wasn’t going to shroud your day with gray clouds.

Your door thuds close and with your book under your arm, you saunter to the library building.

“Oi!”

You jerk and stop dead in your tracks. First his face, now his voice-

Too real. The volume, pitch, rhythm, pacing. Each wave and turn.

“Oi, Y/N!”

The volume swerves to the ceiling, and you swivel around. It couldn’t be product of your imagination. “What do you want?” You tilt your head, one eyebrow lifted stressing that question mark.

He stops two feet away from you, and your heart leaps to your throat. He’s too close, too close his energy raptures the wires of your self-control.

“I… uh…” Gulp. He scratches the side of his head, averting his gaze. “Well, I…” Levi is losing it, all his braincells rioting while his heart pounds with frenzy. His face heats all the way to the tip of his ears. You look so beautiful in that dress—he already thought you were pretty in your uniform coated in sweat after a training session. Now you eclipse every star in the sky.

He's reduced to stuttering mess, unable to string more than two syllables together. If only you knew half the thoughts that go through his head when it comes to you, you would have put in for a transfer already. To the Garrison or worse, to the MP.

“That’s why you shouldn’t mix bleach with muriatic acid, it burns your brain cells.” You jab your fingers to the side of your head repeatedly, and then drop your fist. “You’re wasting my time.”

Your mouth moves, shaping vowels, but Levi’s surroundings have fallen into a dead silence. Whatever you're barking, the waves don’t go past his eardrums, and it’s better that way, because by the look in your face, I mustn’t be flattering. His eyes fix on your glossy lips, and he wonders what they would feel like moving against his, what you taste like.

Two steps closer, he grabs you by your shoulders frustrating your escape. His jaw is set tight, teeth grinding; his heart batters out of control, pumping more blood through his system which sets in fire every inch of his body.   

“When will you shut up and kiss me?” he bellows, pulling the reins of your prating.

First a shrill, like a boiling kettle, then his ears sharpen.

He expects a whack on the head with the spine of your book.

But it never comes.

You cock your head to the side, scrunching your face with skepticism, a blush infesting the apples of your cheeks.

“Say that ag—”

His lips collide on yours and the floor rumbles before you’re swept off. Time freezes; the world shrinks. Two blinks. Your eyes snap, then shut tight, and all the tension dwindles, breaking through your skin in the form of goosebumps. Tickles swarm your lower belly; they pour out in an all-consuming energy that obliterates and soothes at the same time. His hands on your face, holding as to never let go.

A weak linger of chocolate. When you kissed him back all worries and pain faded, your lips, softer than anything he’s had before, dance and mold to his as if they were destined to each other. Strawberries in summer; silk against the skin. He just found a new vice. He feels your hands meandering over his chest, shy, hesitant on where to touch, gauging his limits.

He pulls apart, his warm breath brushing your dewy lips. He presses his forehead on yours and slowly opens his eyes, a silly smile tugs at the corners of his lips, like a teenage boy who’d just kissed the girl who steals his thoughts. A tender kiss, a treasured first kiss. The kind of kiss that you don’t want to tell aloud.

The book is crumpled at your feet.

You blink, and Levi scans your every reaction. The flit of your lashes, the ruddiness on your cheeks; your calming breathing. And when you smile and that spark flares in your eyes, it swaddles him, a lulling feeling that everything will be all right.  

Tag List: @stygianoir @lamees004 @svftackerman @apolloshaiku @luvjiro @roralore @mikakayyyy @lovolee3 @notgoodforlife @galactict3a

Want to join the tag list? Click here.

[benicebefunny]

3.11 ends just after 9:30am on Monday. A half hour before Nathan returns to Richmond at 10am, Monday.

I can't imagine I'm the only one who assumed 3.12 would pick up right where 3.11 left off. We would see Ted tell Rebecca he's leaving. We would see Nathan arrive at 10am for his first day back in a fraught work environment. We would see him and Ted finally talk.

We don't see any of those things.

Instead, 3.12 jumps to ahead to a morning some time later.

The show skips the central conversations the season has been leading up to in favor of teasing Tedbecca one last time.

The writing prioritized being a petty little asshole to Tedbecca shippers over providing a meaningful (ONSCREEN) resolution to the Nathan-Ted conflict.

I get the appeal of being a petty little asshole. It's a rewarding experience. But look at what was sacrificed. At who was once again sacrificed.

The opening of 3.12 was not a particularly kind parting gift for the Tedbecca shippers. I can see why they would be upset.

Even though I don't ship Ted and Rebecca together (or with anyone, really), I'm upset, too. I resent the scene for what it replaced (an important moment for Nathan) and what it enabled (Nathan being assistant to the kitman).

To show rather than tell would have required an actual in-character, earned, and sensical reason for Nathan to return as anything other than a coach (the thing 3.11 was teasing).

Showing would have required someone to believably say, "I know Nathan is more than qualified to be an assistant coach. I know that he has the skills, experience, and insight into West Ham (as their former manager) that would enable us to win the whole fucking thing. But I think it would be best if he served in the lowest-ranking position in the locker room instead. Rather than use Nathan's coaching genius, Richmond should invent a new position that will allow Nathan to serve under someone with vastly less kitman experience. That is a thing that should happen."

Someone (possibly even Nathan) would have to say that, and other people would have to agree.

Showing would require multiple characters to agree, "Yes, the best place for the only Brown coach on this show is to serve and clean up after the people he once supervised and who once bullied him. This is the right thing, because this Brown man needs to practice humility, be punished with manual labor, prove his devotion to a two billion pound club, and/or take comfort in repetitive tasks. This is an incredibly generous offer."

The Tedbecca fake-out allowed the show to avoid

Explaining a non-sensical plot twist/reversal

Justifying one of the most racist writing choices on an already racist show

Showing beloved white characters putting Nathan in his place--one final racist act that may (finally) tarnish their benevolent white reputations

The Tedbecca fake-out was a distraction. It demonstrated tremendous contempt for the fans, and it denied both Nathan and Nick Mohammed a well-deserved opportunity to shine.

[gojonanami]

Oh? Evil. Is that so?

Well, you haven't seen evil, Sab, because if you want evil, then I can give you evil.

(Professor Suguru is an excellent professor. He's just one of those professors who is so incredibly charismatic that he just breaks down complicated concepts perfectly, and people end up taking his option not just because he's extremely sexy but also because he's a genuinely good teacher, and they have no idea that the real challenge of his course is maintaining composure while he is explaining Aristotelian ethics or breaking down medical ethics, as his forearms just look so sexy, his muscles are so firm, and his hair is just so luscious and silky.)

(And he's a professor who just makes you want to earn his praise, you know? And you grow so desperate that you start to do more and more extra readings, and you end up spending most of your time studying and trying to make sure that your essays are genuinely the very best that they can be, so that you can see that tiny quirk of his lips as he compliments your work. And his compliment just makes you want to combust, so you try your very best to resist the urge to squeal and flash him a toothy grin, so you squirm in your seat, trying to calmly receive his compliment while internally you are combusting. And his compliments, unfortunately, don't help, as you suddenly end up waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night as you find that—yet again—you've had a dream where your ethics professor calls you a 'good girl' and praises your work.)

(And imagine how awful things would be if he had to advise your dissertation? Then you would have to be one-on-one with him. In supervisions, there are often two other people with you, you know? Or at least one person. And that usually makes you calm down a little, as rubbing your thighs together in the presence of your coursemates isn't ideal, you know? But if you're one-on-one, that struggle just becomes exponentially harder, you know? He's so close. He's so good-looking. He's so intelligent. And he's so confident. You just want to give in to him there and then.)

(Under his tutelage, of course, your dissertation gets a 79%. He actually takes the time to advise you, and he actually responds to your emails with good advice, unlike some other professors. And when you get a compliment from your dean, you just want to squeal in joy. And your gaze flickers over to Professor Suguru, and as soon as you see his amused little half-smile, you just want to die on the spot.)

(Professor Suguru, of course, is simultaneously a good and a bad reason to stay at your university for longer and pursue a Masters/PhD.)

(Having Professor Suguru as your supervisor is a constant struggle, as you wonder constantly at the back of your mind if he knows how often you think of him in the most inopportune of times and how often you think of him when you're alone in your bed or even in your shower.)

okay this is pure evil - you're right i haven't seen evil, and i'm writing this today - you guys win T_T

[tvmigraine]

FORGOTTEN LIVES: Robert Holmes

Before we begin! Remember to get a copy of the Forgotten Lives Omnibus at this link! The 31st is the LAST opportunity to preorder the new book before you lose your chance! We're going to aim for another double-post today, so that you have enough time to pick up the book!

In the Chibnall era of the show, we were introduced to the idea of Division - we've yet to see it fully in expanded media, but it seems a lot like the Celestial Intervention Agency, pulling strings in the background to make things work in favour of the Time Lords. The Fugitive Doctor is working (reluctantly?) for Division, but we have yet to see the Doctor's relationship with these shady organisations in the show. With the Camfield Doctor, we saw how they bend the rules and act outside the Time Lords' interests. But what does it mean when the Doctor loses their freedom?

Robert Holmes (1926-1986) may be most well known for the invention of the Sontarans, however has written many important episodes for the show including Brain of Morbius alongside Terrance Dicks under the name "Robin Bland". Along with having written the debut episodes of the Third Doctor, The Master, Jo Grant and Sarah Jane Smith, he's also written the episodes Spearhead from Space, The Deadly Assassin, The Talons of Weng-Chiang, The Caves of Androzani, The Two Doctors and many more from the 2nd Doctor era all the way to the 6th. He would've written The Ultimate Foe to complete the "Trial of a Time Lord" storyline, but passed away before he could finish a script.

Here we see a lonely Doctor working trapped beneath the heel of the Time Lords. Where he would have a companion, he instead has a small device that keeps him under constant surveillance. He's stuck doing missions that makes him do terrible things, waiting for that day where he can turn the tide and wipe the red from his ledger.

Portions of his era make him standout, as he does things I never expected to see from either book. In the first book, when written solely under Jay Eales, we see a similar set up to Dennison's "Gauntlet of Absolution" handled in a much different way. The Doctor, much like his current situation, is supervised by the alien race over the course of weeks as the Doctor tries his best to find the best outcome. An unexpected appearance at the end happily caught me off guard, something I hope to see in future releases.

When introducing other writers to this Doctor, Ian McIntre penned another multi-part story that took us between the Hinchcliffe and Holmes incarnations. We see this Doctor reunite with a friend made many faces ago, acting similarly to stories like "The Girl in the Fireplace" and it's relationship to "Deep Breath", not being a direct continuation as much as it's building on the pre-established lore around a strong concept. There's a moment that shows the Holmes Doctor almost reminisce on better times, when he had more freedom than this face may have ever known.

They're possibly the Doctor go through the most physical anguish out of the other incarnations. Eales writes a fantastic opening scene in "Borrowed Time" that details the scars and injuries that this Doctor has sustained, some to a point that should lead to regeneration but instead he is forced to continue. The Doctor that we see at the start of these stories is nothing like the broken and defeated Doctor we find in his send-off.

And as much as I shouldn't pick favourites, I have to give incredible amounts of respect for this TARDIS interior. Referred to as the Rococo TARDIS, it is a gorgeous steampunk design that feels like this Doctor letting out the personality he wishes he could properly show without regular interference.

I have little else to comment on - unlike the Harper or the Camfield Doctors, Holmes' background is easy to understand and stories are simply good. That being said, I couldn't help but consider the specific pairing up of Series 6B Troughton, Jo Martin and Holmes' Doctor. Three incarnations that would not know each other dealing with some alien planet while navigating the bureaucracy of multiple different Time Lord branches could make for either a fantastic political drama or a very funny political comedy.

For more insight into the creative process of every author that worked on Forgotten Lives, you can go to @forgottenlivesobverse and find interviews from everyone involved across the books. If you're looking for insight on how the outfits were designed, you can go to Paul Hanley's Patreon and find what went into designing each Doctor.

Here's the stories you can look forward to as this Doctor does his best to balance his ledger and make amends, pushed to his very limits.

THE OTHER SIDE by Jay Eales

THE HIVE MINDERS (Part Two) by Ian McIntire

RETROGENESIS (Part Seven) by Philip Purser-Hallard

BORROWED TIME by Jay Eales

Our final post will be the George Gallaccio Doctor, the final Doctor before we would begin the Hartnell era. You've got very little time to get the book, so don't miss out!

[kenjiro-kun]

Expedition

Character: Hange Zoë (AOT)

Theme: Fluff, Violence

Pairing: x Levi's Sister!Reader

Reader: Female

POV: Second

Words: 783

Summary: Reader and Hange are sent on an expedition, somethings don't go well, and with Levi scolding you and all, you happen to get closer to Hange

---

"You put her with shitty glasses?" He took a drink from his cup. "What good would that do her, another than keep her away from me -- she likes to get herself. . .dirty."

Erwin smiled. "I have decided to put her under Hange's supervision due to their shared mentality with titans. It will keep her and your sister at bay, and out of your hands."

"Tch," He shock his head. "Shared mentality? Call it shared obsession." He set his cup down, crossing his arms. "Supervision?"

"Yes," Erwin replied. "Are you worried about the fact of them being together?"

"I know Hange can handle herself, but the fact of my sister -- she can go a little overbroad at times."

"Well, have a little more faith in them both would you? They may become handy behind and on the field. The more knowledge the better."

Levi stood up. "If there isn't anything else, I should be leaving."

Erwin nod his head. "Of course -- on second thought." Levi turned around. "I forgot to mention that Hange and your sister have went on an expedition."

"What?" Levi grimaced. "You better be shitting me. You sent those two on an expedition together?!"

"To gather information."

"Information? Tch." He turned around, leaving the room.

"And a little matchmaking." Erwin mumbled.

---

"Hange! What are we going to find? How about an abnormal?!" You said, running ahead with your arms spread out, jumping. "Oh this is going to be so fun!"

Hange didn't expect to be stuck with you, and for this long since it has been a week since your departure. She was her got research, to discover everything about Titans, the one creature that kills many families and many dreams.

"Ahahaha!" You looked ahead of you, seeing a Titan walking in a circle. "Hange look at that! It's just walking in circle!"

"Wow!" She sang. "That is incredible, it could be to the act it has no sense of direction! Or genuinely likes circles!"

You both took a closer look hidden in the trees to see a dead horse being circled by it. Hange noticed you writing things down, but felt something was off by a dead horse. It was a fresh kill.

"Does this mean it goes after wild animals?" You asked, tapping your chin.

"I don't think so," Hange frowned, her goggles glaring off the Sun's rays.

"Then what is your thoughts?" You asked, oblivious to her focused nature. "Hange?"

You heard something behind you, but it was too late to stop the hand from reaching down to your fragile body. It took you in its grasp, but the hold wasn't too tight. Hange watched it in worry, excitement, and less visible rage.

"Hange!"

"Y/N?!"

The abnormal heard the noise, and dashed its way over to her location. She jumped away from the tree, dodging the slightly suicidal titan from its stampede. She watched you struggle in the Titan's grasp as it looked at you with hungry lustful eyes. You felt it squeeze down on you, your bones cracking against each other, but ended when the hand was sliced off by Hange. She carried you, flying through the trees that covered your sight from the Titian.

Eventually, you came back to the place of staying. You laughed, taking about how strong the Titan's grip strength could be until Levi walked in on you two. He saw you bruised, slightly bandaged, but a book on your lap. Erwin walked in after him, and took noticed of your injuries as well. Levi became furious at Erwin and at you, but in a caring brotherly way. That wasn't at all close to Hange's subconscious fear that she realized. She dread in seeing you hurt or at all in any danger.

"Are you going to explain, shitty glasses?" Levi demanded.

"I-"

You stopped her. "A titan sneaked up on us, grabbed me, and Hange saved me."

"Tch," He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

"We should be leaving." Erwin said. "They have thing to do."

"I'm moving."

---

You and Hange became amazingly close, and soon you both came to a even more realization on your own feelings. You confessed to each other, and now you were the couple due that was obsessed over Titans and secretly loved by Levi.

"Woohoo!" Hange screamed, scaring cadets around her. "Sunlight!"

"Sunlight!" You both sang.

Levi sighed, and Erwin was proud.

"You did good, Erwin."

"Did I?" He smiled. "I know I did."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm heading inside."

"Hange! Look! It's him!" You yelled.

"Woaaaahhhh! Come here!"

Levi chuckled, finally seeing you with someone, even if it was shitty glasses.

[lovelywingsart]

*explodes into your inbox* HI I know this will probably be answered later on when you reach that part of the plot, but in the Metalworks AU: what's the Heisenberg's relationship like with Chris/the BSAA like? Do they have to check in on a regular basis to make sure Karl isn't attempting world domination one weaponised Roomba at a time?

👀👀👀

I might, though that also depends JUST how deep ill want to go with the written stories, or when i get to sketching them more- But anyway! Smol bitty 'spoilers' for the story, but not enough to ruin it. uwu This will also be long. You know my rambles.

Karl and Chris/BSAA have an... interesting relationship.

Karl was, of course, incredibly hesitant when Emelia and Chris made the deal that granted them freedom. He didn't trust Chris for a single fucking moment, and you can bet he wasn't too happy when part of the deal was that they would absolutely be under some sort of *mild* supervision via the Hound Wolf Squad specifically, and partially the BSAA as a whole. Not so much that they'd be up their asses, but just enough to make sure things don't go out of hand. (Meaning no, no weaponized roombas. Sorry to disappoint. 😂 He kinda fell off the whole 'creating murderous robots to take over the world' thing when he suddenly had no real reason to after Mirandas death- it was alot to take in. He had MANY feelings after that.)

They amazingly don't really check on them much, maybe a random helicopter from a distance- because what really helps the 'survailance' is Ethan and Emelia writing back and forth. Once again, Karl was adamant in demanding not to put too much personal shit in there because he KNEW Chris would see them too. It took him a little bit to get comfortable with the idea that someone on the outside might know more about their life, as he discovered that he would definitely prefer living in solitude with his family now that he actually had the choice to.

The only times Karl and Chris really came face to face was when Ethan and Rose would visit and vice versa, and honestly they just... avoided eachother mostly. An untrusting glance here, a defensive growl from Karl there, but they more or less left eachother alone save for Karl sometimes being a smartass, as he does. Really their slight animosity came to both a head and a surprising end when Emelia had the twins, which is where the one image of Karl getting in his face comes in- and honestly it was partially because of Adalwulf. Had he not stepped in and calmed Karl down, Chris wouldn't have had the respect for him that he does, and he wouldn't have joined the Hound Wolf Squad as a 'Bioweapon Defense' with Rose who joined shortly after. Karl kinda came around to the idea after being incredibly against it, and his own trust in Chris genuinely didn't start GROWING until after Emelia talked to him about Ada joining them. So it took... about 12-13 years for both Karl and Chris to not completely have sticks up their asses about it despite Emelia calling him for help once before (to find her birth family), if I'm doing my timeline math right.

After that they ended up having enough mild respect to at least talk without Karl being a complete dick and Chris being a military hardass, and eventually it was enough to share a few beers and for Chris to actually offer THEM a small spot in the crew due to the fact that they're considered 'first generation bioweapons'. While they don't take the spot fully (again, they prefer staying with their *growing* family), they do sometimes go out for things that might be of their concern, mostly to assess things or at least provide support somehow. Mostly Emelia, but Karl will join too, which leads to Chris finding out just how much of an actual fucking tank the old man is with his defense without needing to mutate at all.

I can't really say Karl ever FULLY trusts Chris and vice versa even after a few years, but it's enough to occasionally be drinking buddies and work together after the twins are born and just kinda stays on that point until Redfield kicks the damn bucket (who knows if he ever will tho, Capcom likes to squeeze as much as they can out of him specifically so I mean 🤷)

[bookpirate32]

I genuinely think there is space for both takes on this genuinely I do. Cause SAI was so so good, but so many people didn’t like it and thought he was selling out or whatever! They thought he was going against what people believed to be his true artistic nature to do pop music and that the whole album was disingenuous, but I believe with my whole heart that those people have it completely backwards, meaning that I believe this was the most genuine thing he could have done during this time in his life. Scaled and Icy was written and produced during the pandemic, and that was an insane time for all of us, objectively. Right before SAI started being a real project was when the first lockdowns happened. At this point in his life, Tyler and Jenna had just had their first baby in February of 2020, and he and Josh were scheduled for what he referred to as a "victory lap" for Trench's "The Bandito Tour". Obviously, all of those shows were canceled, and it was an insane time for everyone. Josh was in LA with Debby and Jenna and Tyler were with Rosie. He basically became a full time SAHD while he was making music on facetime with Josh. When they were writing this music, the clear indication given their musical history and previous discographical contributions was to go head first into like the depths of darkness, cause that's where most of the world was. But that's not where Tyler was. He was getting to watch his daughter grow up and sleep in his own bed with his wife every night and Josh was getting married to Debby Ryan. They had been on tour for over a year straight at that point coming out of a beautifully done hiatus that was not only logistically very impressive but artistically incredible. The music they had spent their hiding time after Blurryface making was raw, and dark and perfect. So many lives were lost during this time. It was scary, and tense, and people just needed a pick me up coming out the other side of 2020 into 2021. Tyler said in an interview that he had to actively resist the urge to go dark with this album, he was literally writing it in his basement. He also said that this album was at its core, about imagination. Cause at the time, imagination was all that this world had, and that is what he chose to lean into. In the apple music interview he said "The idea of adding to the pressure of what's going on in our world, it didn't feel right." I think given his life circumstances at the time, it was the best, most genuine thing he could have put out, and having something bright and bubbly to listen to was very good for everyone. Also while the lore for this story is super cool, if we are constantly entrenched in the lore and don't allow outside perspectives, the music becomes inaccessible to people. So IRL, it wasn't disingenuous at all. He did what felt right and chose to share the fruits of that with us. But this is where the other argument comes in. In the context of the lore, SAI is INHERINTLY disingenuous, but obviously we didn't know this at the time of the release and arguably this didn't become even remotely clear until well after the live stream performance (feature performance event in universe cannon). We know it's disingenuous in terms of the lore because of this specific letter from Clancy that can be found on dmaorg.info that I've included below. For those of you who can't read cursive, here is the TL;DR.

Clancy is in prison after his last escape attempt. Since his imprisonment though, he has accidently made quite the name for himself in the city of Dema as an artist and rebel. The Bishops Hate This, but ever determined to maintain power over the people of Dema, they decide to use Clancy's fame to their advantage and decide to start forcing him to make propaganda that he will be forced to perform on a TV show (FPE aka the live stream available for our viewing). They bring him a room every day with a blue door and he sits and writes music under the supervision of Keons (Clancy's bishop) and 3 other bishops he does not recognize (sometimes up to 8 of the bishops, but never all 9, and Nico was never present because Clancy claims he would be able to "feel it if he was there"). These writing sessions went on for many months. Everything written was monitored and had to be "for the benefit of the city of Dema". After the FPE, Clancy preforms at the annual assembly of the glorified (as entertainment for the yearly Big Party For The VIPs of Dema), which takes place on a submarine. Trash the dragon (being controlled by Keons) then destroys the submarine, allowing Clancy to escape to Voldsøy, (map also attached) where he is able to learn psychokinesis from the Neds (neural expansion devices). So where does this leave us? An album, that outside of the lore was, given the circumstances of the real world tragedies that were happening left and right, the most genuine work they could have created at the time, but in universe was LITERALLY forced creativity and by definition disingenuous because it was monitored and forced album they have created. It is also important to mention the in universe parallels to what was going on IRL with the absence of the "real" torch bearer. Although he was being monitored by the bishops during his creative process, Clancy was technically creating in solitude during these sessions, the same way Josh and Tyler were having to create in (technical due to their ability to face time and the way their computer interfacing worked) solitude! During the duration of the SAI lore segments, and up until the Navigating MV (although they obviously had been able to reconnect IRL long before this) the torchbearer was not with Clancy the WHOLE time. He was alone on Voldsøy, alone when he learned psychokinesis, alone when he signaled the banditos after starting a fire in Dema using Keons's body, and alone when he crossed the Paladin Strait. But moving back to point of this post lol. Of course Clancy "regrets" making SAI. It was not the type of music he wanted to make and it didn't carry the message that held close to his firm beliefs that the people of Dema were trapped and needed to be rescued, or that the Bishops and Vialism as a whole were wrong. But Tyler? Scaled And Icy was written in a terrible time for the world and a kind of magical time for Tyler and his family. The album that resulted from his taking a hard turn into left field was taken at face value as just some mediocre pop album they were making to get more radio play or to try to win another Grammy by so many people in and out of the fan base that the backlash it received as being fake or lazy after they had to work extra hard to make it could NOT have felt good. I don't think the real life regret stems from him not being happy with the album, but rather unhappy that it was received so poorly by so many of us. It didn't stick. The industry was meh about it. This is very clearly (and beautifully) illustrated in the MV for "The Craving" single version. They both work so hard with the delicacy and intricacies of their respective parts of the "offering" to the shot put suits (who are representative of the industry). The bullet is fired, and it does not his the target. "That's a miss. Next." Then they're left with an empty box. So in conclusion I guess SAI was a really good album that did exactly what it was supposed to given the time it was written and released, and I personally think its gotten better with age, but I can understand why Tyler might disagree.

Ok yeah sure maybe "I wish I never did Saturday" is Tyler regretting the SAI album OR. AND HEAR ME OUT. It's Clancy wishing he had never been held captive and forced to make a propaganda album because it must have ruined a lot of the hard work the Bandito rebellion did in Dema 😌

[only-lonely-lovers]

08.20.2022

Bird is あ / Avvy is

つ：begins… thinking about yugis showering together

あ：yeahhh. actually since i was writing small boys stuff. there's a part where i was like gasp. bath together

つ：!!!!

あ：[thinks about it]

つ：it feels like. one of those things once amane is healthy it's like WAAAIT

あ：yes like ah ah ah!!!!!!! we have to…

つ：with a heart condition something like a hot bath would be really dangerous… i'm sure it had to be very controlled and at best lukewarm situations and highly parents driven…

あ：highly supervised, no fun

つ：extremely monitored, etc…

あ：as much as you lost just having sleepy times togever

つ：tsukasa just like KFLSDJ;GKL;GJKLKF GRABS ARMFUL OF BATH TOYS [in the tub] I FORGOT [RUNS NAKED THRU HOUSE WETLY GETTING SOME HE FORGOT] amane in the tub alone a minute: stupid…

あ：just kind of watching him like. sigh

つ：THROWS your BALL into the BATHTUB WOOOO

あ：now it's a party

つ：they knock it back and forth on top of the water dimly sortof braindead fills a hollow plastic dinosaur with water and makes it barf the water back out

あ：[clapping] ah tsukasa's little pea vibrates , as if he must provide amane bath time entertainment the entire time and amane's like. i mean it's fun. but we can also just have a bath [lazily paws you with my feets]

つ：plip plap pap

tsukasa is like remembering every little thing he does with each toy….. like wait. and this one…. you can do this cuz it floats but i like to think no amane bath time is like sits in water blank eyed as mom helps bathe

あ：in reality yeah it hasn't been so fun tsukasa probably not enjoying swimming or nothing without amane….

it makes me so emo amane is looking forward to pool time like … really has desoirs

つ：SWIMMING really has to have been so incredibly contraband….

あ：such a no no...

つ：i imagine its so. swims around in circles together heeheehee

あ：paddle paddle

つ：time to be sharks. gators. heehee

あ：dives under and grabs your ankle

つ：waaaaou

あ：water makes you wily. its just so fun to be bouyant and not having to worry abt ur whole body fun for newly healthy boy

つ：HOW DOES NOBODY THINK ABOUT HOW GOOD THE REUNION MUST HAVE BEEN!!! we haven't seen it bc they are saving this pocket of time

あ：i have to imagine amane was truly just like manic about stuff for a sec combine this + the glee of having tsukasa back i think it was just epic for a sec

just so excited liek TSUKASA!! momgh said [mouth full of food] werre goingtoda BEAHC

つ：you hope it was so amazing. that whatever awfl things happen later. tsukasa still feels it was worth it

あ：trying to make a big cool kaiju out of sand or, using sand castle molds and then pretending to be a big stupid godzilla stomping on the buildings

つ：we're compressing the joy into a few short years

あ：tsukasa tasked with making a bunch of these

つ：yeaaahhhs baby oh tsukasa just fuckin havin to funnel all the sand around

あ：hyperfocuses

つ：he is just like hai being given any assignment

あ：I think Amane really could just command him. MAKE me a city. and its like hai. becomes diligent

つ：amane just like puts flags on top and sticks a seashell here or there

あ：sits around frootily

つ：as he does. sigh stares for a minute looking… upon your splendor on the sand…. in the open air… the sun…. upon skin….

あ：[swirling my finger in the wet sand]

つ：unblinking

あ：Moments like these, they happen

つ：snaps fingers to make him continue the work

あ：Hey cmon i wanna do this and then swim to get all the sand off of me what excites tsukasa more, amane popping up under him in water to carry him, or him getting to carry amane in some way (edited)

つ：amane carrying him would make him [no expression] simply [little shapes floating around]

あ：brother is being whimsical

つ：calculating, except calculating nothing

あ：moe...

つ：its like somewhere in the deep recesses of tsukasa's brain is like a bridal carry image he saw once but he's not cognizant of this its more like a little brain itch feeling

あ：amane is just excited to do something like this. ahh my blood is pumping. runs around, feels self panting, but it feels good

つ：guy loves to be athletic it feels good

あ：he's laughing

つ：he's like wow its easy to carry people in water…. i had no idea bounces tsukasa around hup hup takes a minute to be like (he's become so quiet……) but tsukasa is just like that…

あ：its like ah…. [pauses] …. tanoshii…? you having fun? [kind of wry tone like lol]

つ：nod

あ：hehe. [spins in a circle…] after enough time itll be like lol. my turn ok. you do me next entertain your prince

つ：amane behaves as if he is on a throne about it i'm sure. I think tsukasa is more outwardly like heehee grin heehee SPINS YOU VERY FAST MAKES US BOTH DIZZY

あ：really gets all, like, comfy on you, like you're a chair, i cross my legs. i rudely lean my elbows on you ohh i can barely feel it tsukasa you're going to have to go faster than that…

つ：becomes serious!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh god catching SHRIMP!!!! EBIIII

あ：every day it is catching the shrimp for our dear little tsukasa

つ：really works self into a panting mess doing a ballet show with amane

あ：[finally claps] i bestow that upon you

つ：FEELS VERY VERY ACCOMPLISHED!!!!!! oh i think tsukasa is the sickest person of all having grown up with amane… nene you need to weep for him sometimes its a lot to…. deal with…. isn't it… wtf

あ：It's bad unfiltered amane 24/7…

つ：this is a guy who as it is can feel so 'i know i am your favorite'

あ：i knowww you like me exploits if there was EVER an exploitative mfer