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bonniebird · 11 months ago

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Aemond X Fem!Targ!Reader but also (Alicent x Reader?)

Warnings: mentions of difficult childbirth, toxic relationship, neglectful relationship

Summery: In an attempt to keep peace, Viserys wed Rhaenyra's only daughter to Aemond. Years later Alicent finds herself caught between the loyalty to her son or her daughter-in-law. With Aemond showing he cares very little about what happens to the mother of his heir he is surprisingly enraged when she vanishes one afternoon during a council meeting.

Recommending the playlist i listened to while writing this lol

Even draped in the gray fabric with her head bowed and her back facing Alicent, she knew it was Rhaenyra. She was kneeling exactly where Aemond had said she would be. It had taken everything to have him spare her death. His plan might be worse.

“Rhaenyra.” Alicent said as she waved a hand and dismissed all of the Septas. Panic reached Rhaenyra’s eyes as she turned and stared at her childhood friend before glancing around and relaxing a little.

“I was not expecting you.” She said calmly. It was mildly frustrating that her nerves hadn’t rattled her. Especially when Alicent’s hands were sweaty and her throat was so dry with anxiety that she felt the need to cough deeply.

“No. You are lucky I convinced Aemond that I would deal with you.” Alicent said slowly as she knelt down before the altar and lit a candle. Rhaenyra watched her and for a moment it was as if nothing had ever changed.

“I have not come as an enemy. I simply came to see my daughter. Her letters stopped.” Rhaenyra said quietly. There was a tone to her voice that held a firm accusation that something had happened to her daughter. Alicent’s eyes closed for a moment. She took a deep trembling breath. Thought of you. Of Helena and her grandchildren and swallowed all her guilt deep down until she felt numb.

“Rhaenyra…” She started.

“I am her mother! My father wed her to Aemond so there would be peace. A foolish idea but I… the only girl I have birthed… that lived. She is not Aemond's, she is my girl.” Rhaenyra seethed out with sharp words. Her eyes watered and she turned back to the candles before them.

“She is dead! Rhaenyra. She has died.” Alicent snapped out. She hadn’t been sure that she could do as Aemond commanded. Her eyes widened for a moment and the guilt reared its head, larger than Baelon the black dread had ever been looking down on her and casting judgment on her for the coward she was.

“No.” A small broken noise. Tears slid down Rhaenyra’s cheeks and she shook her head. “I would know. I would know if my girl had… What of her child?”

“They are both gone. Vhagar lit their funeral pyres. It was a son.” Alicent recited what Aemond had told her to say and stared forward at the lit candles.

“So he takes another child from me.” Rhaenyra said with a hollow coldness. She stood and said nothing else as she left. Alicent stayed frozen to her spot as she raised a hand to cover her mouth and muffle the sob that escaped her as her gargantuan monster of guilt dove down to consume her.

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

“How is she doing?” Aemond asked as he sat beside the bed.

“The birth was hard; she will still need more rest before we can be sure.” Maester Orwyle said as she tended to the weak young woman in the bed. Aemmond looked down at her slowly.

“The baby?” Aemond asked casually. He had done little more than look at the small life since it was first brought to him.

“Growing stronger. But I am worried about him. He is rather small.” The Maester said quickly. Aemond leaned back in his chair and glanced at the frail shape in the bed.

“Maybe you should be ensuring that my heir will survive.” Aemond said before standing to leave. He stopped when he saw Alicent in the doorway of the room. They stared each other down for a moment before she glanced towards the Maester and Aemond took his victory by shoving past her.

“Alicent?” The weak voice called to her and Alicent swept across the room, crouching at the bedside and cupping the face of the poor young woman. “They took the baby.”

“He was sick. The Maester needed him to be cared for.” Alicent explained. Confusion crossed the face of the girl and she closed her eyes for a moment.

“I… I need to take the baby to the Sept.” She whispered out with her eyes still closed as she turned her head on the pillows. She looked so much like Rhaenyra when she was young that Alicent found guilt clawing at her belly. Sentiment played with her heartstrings and she pushed the ugly thought that she was using Rhaenyra’s child to find some comfort that had been lost when she and Rhaenyra fell out of friendship.

“(Y/N) the baby is fine. He does not need to go to the sept.” Alicent said softly and dismissed everyone else in the room once the Maester had finished checking on you. She took up Aemond’s seat beside the bed, moving it closer so she could take the damp cloth, sat in a bowl of cool water on a side table near your bed, and wipe at the sweat that coated your face.

“I promised I would take the baby.” The weak voice made Alicent’s guilt return. It slithered around her like a snake squeezing tighter and tighter as she tended to the weak remnants of the sweet girl.

“I will speak with Aemond. Perhaps he will allow peace long enough to show the babe to your mother.” Alicent said as she bent over the girl and kissed her forehead as if she were her own.

“He wanted me to die. I disappointed him.” The whisper was delirious and wobbly but the truth of it was as jarring as it would have been for a knife to be plunged into her chest. Alicent hushed her, fussing until sleep took the girl and she could leave Septa's she trusted to watch over her.

Anxiety picked at Alicent. It thumped against her chest from the inside out, sitting beside her heart making her stop walking and take a shaky breath. She let it out in one quick huff and continued her steps through the halls. They echoed loudly. Each step accusing her of cruelty, treachery and weakness. When she entered the council room she found Aemond at the head of the table looking down at a map before him. He didn’t bother to acknowledge her which gave her a moment to steel herself.

“Aemond. You should be tending to your wife.” Alicent said firmly.

“Why?” He asked.

“The birth was hard. She is still in danger.” Alicent tried to pull at his sympathies. He had never been overly caring but she had hoped his possessiveness of you would grow into something more over the years.

“A punishment from the gods. For how my son and heir struggled into the world.” Aemond said carelessly. Alicent swallowed the raging beast of her youth, it yearned to strike Aemond and shout at him how he was wrong.

“Such foolishness. No doubt the words of your wise council that you repeat. The girl has battled to bring you an heir. Both have survived. Most are not so lucky.” Alicent stared at Aemond who shrugged. Alicent stared at him speechless. She was unsure how to express to him the danger his wife had faced.

“Simply because she is Rhaenyra’s child you have decided to hate her? To withhold your duties as a husband?” Alicent accused. Aemond glanced at her and sighed, sitting back in the large chair.

“She was meeting with the enemy.” Aemond said as if his attitude was justified.

“Because she was facing death. You could not negotiate peace for a few days for your own wife!” Alicent said and winced. She knew it was unrealistic. Impossible but it was right. “You have no idea what it was like for her alone. You should have had me sent for.”

“Were you able to send our message to the enemy?” Aemond asked, ignoring what she said.

“Yes. I have told Rhaenyra that her daughter passed… you do not plan to kill her?” Alicent asked. Aemond tutted and looked at her as if he was mildly offended.

“I will need another heir out of her first. She shall need to rest, I assume. Before I can make another.” Aemond looked to the door as the rest of the council entered. Alicent left feeling all the worse. She had hoped that something in Aemond would be altered by the sight of his son. Soften by his wife’s efforts to bring life to his world.

Alicent found herself feeling sick as she walked the halls aimlessly until she turned a corner and found Helena. She was light by light, some divine vision in the dark halls, smiling as if Alicent had never wronged anyone in her life.

“Mother. It is almost time.” Helena said in her way with a soft smile. She reached for her mother's arm and smiled as she avoided making eye contact with her mother.

“Time for what?” Alicent asked as if she wanted the world to stop.

“To save the heart.” Helena said as if she were in some kind of dream and let go of her mother, walking to the window nearby. Alicent knew better than to ask more of Helena. There would be no explanation. “He will kill her. But it is not too late yet. To take the heart home!”

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

Alicent scanned the woods. She kept an eye out for any movement. She had a deep fear heavy in her belly that Aemond would shadow the skies with Vhagar and burn the forest down. Just behind her, the gentle brown horse kept a steady pace, refusing to go faster or slower. It was as if the creature knew the cargo it carried was precious and yet fleeing was necessary.

Alicent held out a hand and pulled her horse to a stop as men dressed in black and red suddenly poured out of the woods. They slipped between the trees and out of the shadows like water from a recent rain falling from the leaves of the great tree branches above them. One broke off, approaching the brown horse, taking hold of the reins. Alicent was surrounded by armed men, watching them silently.

“Princess. My name is Davos. Your mother has sent me to escort you to the vale.” The young man who had taken the reins from the brown horse said. The hooded figure on the horse pushed back the cloak wrapped around them and looked down at the young man. An awestruck look crossed his face. A look that should have lived on her son's face Alicent thought bitterly.

“Thank you, Ser.” The sweet, kind voice, broke the silence of the woods. The man nodded and led the horse away through the men. As the horse passed Alicent the girl looked up, locking eyes with Alicent. “Be sure not to hurt my law mother. Please.”

The plea was heard and the girl was taken. The men retreated and all too soon Alicent was alone. Dismounting from the horse, emotion bubbled and spilt. She let out a scream of pain or rage she was unsure. Unable to keep her emotions contained anymore. Her outburst ended with her crumbling in the undergrowth, sobbing and weeping, unable to find the strength to move even as darkness began to set in. Men sent to look for her arrived and thought she had been wounded or attacked. Helena sat at her bedside as Alicent gave in, letting herself wallow in misery. She was unsure when Helena had left but she was roused from sleep in the dark. A single candlelight illuminating Aemond sat beside her bed, gently holding her hand.

“Mother. I am glad you are well. I fear you had been attacked.” Aemond’s voice was gentle. It was the gentle way he spoke to people he thought were less intelligent than him.

“We should have had more guards with us.” Alicent said. Aemond scoffed, leaning close to her, making Alicent’s eyes grow wide with nerves.

“My wife and son are gone. I know it was your doing Mother. The moment I can prove it to the council… I WILL FIND MY WIFE AND SON!... I…” He trailed off when Alicent scoffed.

“You think I would endanger my grandson?” She challenged. Aemond cocked his head to the side and looked at her as if he almost believed her. “How dare you!”

Fire. It ignited in her. Spreading through her body, fueled by the thought of her sweet Helena. Of her daughter-in-law, forgiving and merciful begging for her to be safe and spared. It burned through her until Alicent was on her feet.

“You mistreated that girl. Cruel to your sister. Humiliate your brother and then you accuse me! ME! You know what I have risked, and lost for all of this.” Alicent’s voice raised with each step she took towards Aemond who retreated as if a dragon were spitting rage at him. “I do not want to see you tomorrow until you have thought over the cruelties you dole out. I will expect your apology.” Her words were punctuated by the slam of the door. She had backed Aemond through and forced him from the room. She had lost everything for her sons and at the first taste of power they abandoned her. She wanted to give in. She would have. But for one thing. For her girls.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #bonniebird

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eastend-if · 1 year ago

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👥DEMO 👥 PLAYLIST 👥 PINTEREST

You keep having the same dreams over and over. It happened, years ago, before you left. You thought you had left Eastend behind for good.

It seems you can never truly escape your past. The Priest had warned you.

There's a girl you've never seen in your dreams. Yet, she seems so familiar - as a forgotten teddy bear you left in the attic of your home. She feels right, she looks wrong, she's wrong. Because she's not you, she says. And the two of you stand on the road...a bright light blinds you but the smell of iron reaches you. You do not need your eyes to deduce the ending of the nightmares.

Metaphorical dreams have never been your forte...except this is real. On the day you arrive, she's still alive. And smiling...laughing...walking with her friends. She looks like a normal girl of your age.

You black out - from the shock you think. The familiar iron smell being all too close, it makes you nauseous. At least, the earthen scent that lingers on your clothes counters it a little.

Why are you in the woods again?

....Why is there blood on your hands?

Welcome home, whispers the wind.

• Customize the vessel whether be it in looks, personality or identity.

• You are free to romance four of the cast. Maybe more, there are many eyes on you.

• Your choices will shape you as they shape the town. They will have consequences on the people around you and those who aren't anymore. Be careful you never know what effect the ripples may have.

• Explore your past to shape your future.

• Fight your nightmares should you be so inclined - or welcome them, there might be surprises in the deep dark part of your mind?

• Choose whether or not you'll doom your childhood town - although, that might not be left to you. Leaving is an option too, after all, you've already left once.

• Survive - or don't. You didn't think you were the only one who could save them, did you?

Eastend is rated 18+ for sexual themes, substance use, explicit language, explicit violence, death and more.

Beverly Arevalo [F,23], your childhood friend. At least, one of you perceived it that way. She has always been difficult to read and understand, you were one of the few who could years back. Maybe you can rekindle your friendship - maybe it will grow into more. The only thing you know for certain is that there are many unknowns surrounding Beverly.

Aina Valen [F,26] is that stereotypical preppy girl, at least what you know of her. You were never quite close when you still lived in town, but things have changed and so have both of you. Surprisingly enough, she works at the bookstore now, having taken over her brother. You're not aware of what happened between them, only that she seems overly bored whenever you pass by the vitrine. At least she insists on telling you you are the 'spice' of her days, whatever that may mean.

Benjamin Li [M,26] his preferred nickname, Benji has always shown kindness to you and this didn't change with your unexpected return. He somehow always has a nice word for you or others in his vicinity, it's refreshing quite frankly. There are always critters following him around but they say animals are good judges of characters so that's a good sign, right?

Hezekiah Lyncroft [M, 24] was always a pain in your ass, even younger. Always arguing with you over anything and nothing, he was the reason for many headaches. Back then, there were rumours about his home life, ones you remember well. At least, he seems to be in a better place nowadays, even though he's still a pain to be around. But not all pains are bad.

+ familiar faces and strangers you've yet to meet

Demo stands currently at 8.6k words.(sans command lines) It is meant as short introduction to the setting and story. Hope you enjoy despite the length :)

#interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #interact if #if wip #if intro #intro post #choice of games #cog #choose your own adventure #eastend if

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trinketstreasuretrove · 4 months ago

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I keep bouncing back and forth between interests like pong

Extra thoughts/details & sketches below cut

You have no fucking idea how much thought I put into this

Kremy: Changeling that disguises as a unicorn

Gideon: Kirin

Frost: Unicorn

Gricko: Earth Pony

Torbek: Abada

Twig: Breezie

There is going to be so much rambling so fucking STRAP IN

Okay so. Changeling Kremy. I realized like 80% of the way through I coulda made him a dragon but I wanted to draw horses soooooo... :| I imagine he is CONSTANTLY changing around his cutie mark. He could theoretically give himself a normal mustache but I think the idea of him being unable to do so is stupidly funny so he still draws it on. I tried to give him twists bc I thought it'd look pretty & I don't know how I'd translate the hair people usually give him in human designs onto a horse. I'm PRAYING that it's clear enough they're supposed to be twists (ref image below)

I'll be honest I think Gideon is the one I put the least thought into. Although that's mostly because his idea was the first one I just LATCHED onto and stuck with. He's a Kirin so he still has the connection to fire and whatnot. Instead of being imprisoned by hobgoblins it'd probably be diamond dogs in this au. He does still have a beard unlike usual Kirins but it just sort of melds into his mane.

Frost was a FUCKING NIGHTMARE (heh mare) to design I'm ngl. I kept having to redo his colors and had to heavily simplify his robes (and even then I had to redraw them when I got to the coloring stage because I hated them that much). But I think he'd turned out quite pretty in the end. I didn't want to just slap stripes on a horse and just call it a day though so desgining him to look recognizable but not just look like a zebra or a weird shaped tiger was difficult. He does have the saddle bags they have in MLP to stand in for his backpack & I tried to give it a similar pattern to his waist sash he has in his splash art. Also his mane is supposed to look like this under the hood.

It's supposed to have some strands coming out the sides to resemble the stripes on his face & I really hope that comes through in the design O.O

Gricko I also admittedly didn't think too much on because his design translated surprisingly well into a pony :] It was a little difficult to figure out his mane but I think it's quite cute. Figuring out his cutie mark was stressful. I wasn't sure if I should've gone with something music or animal related so I started sketching a harmonica with like. a music sheet? coming out of it? But after messing with the shape of the "wind" coming out of the top I realised I could make it into a paw to sort of combine music and animals and I think its verrry cute :]

Torbek! Torbek! Torbek! :D I'm crazy happy w/ how Torbek came out. He translates shockingly well into pony form especially when I found out ab Abadas in MLP. The incredibly lanky proportions fit verrry well. The leg designs are supposed to reference how his (witchlight-effected) arm in his splash art turns darker towards the ends and the stripes on his chest reference the straps from the straight jacket(?) under his coat. ALSO Abadas do have a cutie mark/cutie mark equivalent design on their flank (they represent their special talent and I think Torbek's OG mark would be about climbing) but I covered up where it would be with some witchlight machinery cause I thought it was clever :] it's specifically based on this plate(?) on his back

Anddd finally Twig :] I went into her design immediately knowing she was gonna be a Breezie. I originally just kinda slapped some colors onto a basic Breezie body and added a hat but it was really boring so I added some spots and gave her colored hooves to spruce it up just a little bit. The spots also gave me the ability to give her some AJ style freckles which I think are verrry adorable. :]

PS. as a treat for reading all that heres the OG concept I sketched up in MS paint (the designs stayed mostly the same [besides color palette] but I thought Frost look too tiger-y so I changed it up a bit in the end) You get a gold star if you can make out all of my handwriting btw

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edamameiyok · 5 months ago

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11:11 with you (megan skiendiel x reader)

"and maybe i think that it might be forever"

synopsis: being in love with megan skiendiel is a lot harder than it sounds. you could, however, list a million reasons why it’s also the easiest god damned thing to do, to fall in love with her. but throughout the years of knowing the chinese girl, well, it has definitely proven to be really fucking difficult to be in love with your best friend. tags: mostly fluff! gets kind of angsty some points. an: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: underaged drinking, kissing. wc: 4927

⏯ now playing: heaven - maude latour

The first few instances of this shows itself when she basically begs to try a new makeup technique on you, calling you her “test dummy.”

(“Get it? I’m testing it on you and you’re also a big ole’ dummy”

“Thank you Megan, very cool.”)

That’s how you find yourself being a willing participant in her shenanigans as she situates herself right in front of you with her fingers underneath your chin as she applies an outrageous color of lip liner on your lips. But the way she looks at you with such care, how her own lips are parted as she concentrates on perfecting the technique, no one could ask you for the color of anything because the only thing you see is Megan Skiendiel. With her stupid giggle and stupid dimples that are shaped like whiskers.

Seriously, how can someone look this perfect?

After a couple of more minutes like this, she pulls away from you and puts the cap of her lipstick back on with a click. She turns around and grabs her mirror, handing it to you. She smiles and you notice it has a hint of nervousness to it. It confuses you sometimes, how unsure of herself she can be in different situations. You sometimes catch her looking at you, as if asking for some sort of reassurance that she was good. And it takes everything in you in those moments to not be honest about your feelings.

You look at yourself in the mirror, happy with what Megan has done. You’re not a makeup person by any means, but you are impressed with the work she has done despite only having seen it once or twice on TikTok. You put the mirror down and you see her looking down at her lap, anxiously biting her lip to hear what you have to say. Without thinking, you lean over, kissing her cheek gently. When you pull away, you giggle at how wide her brown eyes are. She has your lipstick stain on her cheek and you have to hold yourself back from leaving more all over her cute, stupid face. Instead, you place a hand on her shoulder, your eyes full of sincerity. “I love it, Megs. I think I’m eating right now…” The response causes her to laugh loudly and she launches herself at you, hugging you with all the strength she has, which is surprisingly, a lot. You hug her back and you can’t help but think about how cooked you truly are, being in love with your best friend.

The most inconvenient you find your feelings to be is when she has to be away for long periods of time due to her schedules.

Not only is being in love with a Global Popstar a thing you struggle with, but also being her best friend comes with its own issues and obstacles.

This presents itself after a particularly long day of classes and you wish you could at least just call the girl to vent about it. However, you knew Megan would be busy all day filming this and filming that and oh! To also record for this thing she is also doing. You guess she wasn’t kidding when she revealed in her Cosmopolitan interview how it’s not just romance that’s hard to keep up with, but also friendships. When you first read the interview, you couldn’t help but feel a sting to your chest. It made the situation at hand a little too real. It gave you a reality check that you have tried to deny for so long. But as you trudge into your apartment, bags under your eyes, and the weight of your bookbag being a little too much, you begin to realize that Megan might be right.

Because fuck, you really need your best friend right now.

You don’t even make it into your room once you walk inside, opting to lay on the couch instead because you just need to be horizontal. You check your watch and realize you only have an hour before you need to get up for your next class that is in a building that is conveniently placed on top of what seems to be the highest point in Los Angeles.

You know that’s an exaggeration. But when you’re a college student in a walkable city, nothing feels overly exaggerated. That’s truly how it is.

You take your phone out of your pocket and tap on the Instagram app, wanting to mindlessly scroll and brain rot for a few minutes. The first post that shows up however is the girl that you have been, annoyingly, thinking about since you woke up this morning. It was of her getting ready for one of her many shoots. It still takes you by surprise to see her in this element. Whenever you see the girl in person, she is always wearing one of your sweaters and a pair of sweatpants. The makeup that would adorn her face would either be nonexistent or was something she had on all day and was just too lazy to take off before coming to see you. But her Instagram posts were always something to behold.

Something that would cause you to stare for a lot longer than you should.

But right now, with the way your heart aches just to hear the girl’s voice, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit bitter over her most recent post. You swipe out of the app and go to your messages. The good morning text you sent this morning still has gone unanswered and for some reason it sends you into a spiral in your mind. The crush you have on Megan Skiendiel is such a waste of time.

It’s 7 PM when you finally, finally finish with classes for the day and the one thing you want more in this world is just to sleep. All the homework and projects assigned be damned for one night. The campus library was already calling your name and you knew you would had to have answered it some point this week. The moment you walk into your apartment, you drop your bookbag onto the floor next to the door and make a beeline towards your room. You don’t even change out of your outside clothes before plopping onto your bed with a sigh, but you quickly jump when you hear a loud “ow!” come from underneath you. You sit up, wide eyed as you see a lump move around underneath your covers.

The lump pops out, revealing to be Megan. The first thing you notice is her hair. No longer ginger, but back to the dark hair she had when you two first met. When things were more simple. When things felt a little less hard. You notice the pink in her bangs and at the ends of her hair and you watch as her face falls slightly when she sees you staring at her new look. She unconsciously moves her hands to her hair, playing with the tinges of pink. Your eyes soften, realizing she might have started feeling insecure. You scoot closer to her, reaching over to touch the pink that dyes her bangs. You tilt your head, any past negative thoughts about your relationship with Megan immediately leaving as you look at your best friend.

You whisper, quietly, “you’re so beautiful.”

As always, when you compliment her, she wraps her arms around you. She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, mumbling a “thank you,” as she holds you tightly. You wrap your own arms around her, resting your chin on top of her head as you rub her back gently. You notice at some point, she might have raided your closet again because she is currently wearing one of your sweaters. You’re about to make fun of her for it, make a comment about how she already has a million of your sweaters, but she whispers into your neck, her breath felt against your skin. “I’ve missed you all day… All I wanted to do was talk to you…”

For some reason, her words hit you a lot harder than you anticipated.

Because, at the end of the day, Megan is still Megan. Your best friend. Your person.

Being in love with your best friend always finds itself to be difficult when others catch onto your feelings. Especially her groupmates.

It’s only natural for them to be observant of your friendship with the girl, it would only make sense. The other five girls spend every waking moment with each other, it would be surprising if they didn’t have a single idea when it came to how you felt about their Chinese member. But it still catches you off guard when one day, while Megan went out to grab something for dinner for you two to share that night, the girls sit you down in their living room to set up what could only be deemed an “intervention.” They presented it at first as a quick game of Mario Kart or Overcooked, but once you make yourself comfortable on the couch, the girls sit around you, expectant looks in all their eyes.

“Um… Hi?” You say, placing one of the Switch controllers down onto the coffee table in front of you. Lara smirks at you and you just know where this was going. You try to get up, making an excuse to go to the bathroom, but Manon grabs your leg. She gives you a look as if to say, “be so serious.” You sigh, knowing you’re in for a very long talk.

“You and Megan have been friends for a while…” Sophia starts with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her statement causes you to shrug, looking away to avoid her eyes. “Yeah.. She’s my best friend…” Daniela raises an eyebrow and speaks up, “is it… Just that?”

You let a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of your head. You shrug again. “I mean… Yeah… What else would it be?” Lara scoffs at your response, placing a hand on your knee and looking at you with a serious look in her eyes. “What else would it be, Y/n?”

And you don’t know what to say because she’s right. What else would it be? That awful feeling in your chest whenever you see Megan, whenever you see a text from her, or whenever you simply think about her during a boring lecture? What other explanation is there for the way you look at the Chinese girl when you’re together doing something as simple as just talking about your days or how one of your exams went?

There is no use in denying it because all of the signs were there; you’re in love with Megan.

The way you look down at your lap, fiddling with the bottom of your sweater, tells the girls all they needed to know. The front door opens and you snap your head up to see Megan with the bag of takeout for the two of you. She smiles widely upon seeing you, placing the bags on the counter before running over to you with her arms outstretched. She jumps onto you, effectively causing you to lay back onto the couch as she lays ontop of you, arms wrapped around you. She nuzzles her face into your neck, sighing in content. You look over at the girls who are still looking at you. Their faces hold a knowing look and you glare, silently telling them to shut up. There is no possible way you could tell Megan how you feel. And to risk losing her this close to you? Not a chance.

Competing with the whole world for her attention is another thing that you find yourself tripping over, especially when Megan begins to become friends with more well-known influencers and songwriters.

You are just a person she met at a random Los Angeles party a few years back. The party was held by a mutual friend and the only thing the friend could tell you about Megan was that she was an amazing dancer. And looking back on it now, your friend really underestimated her words because holy fuck there is more to Megan than what your friend lead on that night.

But now, her contacts are filled with well-known people from all parts of Los Angeles. She knows big named people, people who could be recognized in the streets. Sometimes, she’d tell you about a party that she’s attending and how insert celebrity would be there.

You’re not jealous by any means. One, there’s no real reason to be because Megan is just a naturally kind person who loves to make friends with everyone. It’s not surprising how easy it is for people to want to flock to the Chinese girl. She’s alluring and quite down to Earth. Her personality is so big and unique that it only takes a couple of words to fall in love with her.

You, from personal experience, would know that.

And two, you don’t have the right to be jealous of the people Megan hangs out with. You’re only her best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

But one night, she invites you to a party being thrown by one of her best friends from Dream Academy. She tells you how there would be some celebrities coming and some of the other Dream Academy contestants. It gives you anxiety, meeting all of these new people when you’re just a regular college student, but who could say no to an invite like this? You’d be crazy to turn it down.

And that’s how you find yourself sitting on the couch inside of a stranger’s house, sipping on a drink that was made by Daniela and slightly overstimulated by the loud music playing all throughout the house. You were never a huge party person, only ever going out every once in awhile with your own friends from your university. But the vibes this time around felt different and you aren’t really sure if it’s because it’s Megan’s friends or you’re just really fucking awkward around new people.

At some point, Megan was pulled away by her old Dream Academy friends, leaving you alone on the couch while awkwardly sipping on the concoction that was currently in your cup. You’re about to get up to find Daniela or Lara but someone decides to sit next to you, ending your moment of isolation. You recognize the girl to be Danielle Marsh, one of the new up and coming artists in the Los Angeles pop music scene. You’ve seen her on TikTok a couple of times and you’re pretty sure she has hung out with the Katseye girls once or twice. The awkwardness you felt prior grows, especially when she extends her hand towards you. She smiles at you widely. “Danielle.” You nod your head, grabbing her hand to shake it gently. “Y/n…” She smiles even wider and lets go of your hand. She looks at you with a small, teasing smile. “You looked like you could use some company.” Her comment causes you to chuckle and you nod, not even trying to hide how silly you looked alone on the couch. “Yeah… I appreciate it.” A conversation between you two ensues and you find it very easy to talk to Danielle.

She’s funny, pretty, and her accent is very nice to listen to. You’re not sure how long you and her talk for, but at some point, her hand finds a spot on your knee and stays there for the remainder of the conversation. Everytime you make her laugh, she pushes your shoulder playfully, leaning in close every once in a while so you can hear her response over the loud music. You’re in the middle of telling her a story when Megan shows back up, two cups in her hands and an expression on her face that you’ve never seen before. She looks at Danielle with a small smile. “Hey! Can I talk to Y/n real quick?” She doesn’t even wait for the other girl to respond, quickly setting down the drinks in her hands before pulling you up from the couch.

Megan pulls you outside towards the back patio and you are immediately welcomed by the cool air after being in such a warm environment for so long. It’s relaxing until Megan lets go of your hand and looks at you with an unreadable expression. You look at her, a curious look in your eyes. “Are you okay?” She crosses her arms and avoids your eyes. “You looked really cozy with Danielle.” For a moment, you couldn’t tell if the reply was more of a statement or a question. You heard a chuckle behind her words, but you couldn’t help but notice a bite to them. As if she was accusing you of something. But you shrug it off, blaming it on what could be the alcohol you consumed earlier. You look at Megan and try to lighten the mood with a playful tone. “Yeah? You think we were vibing?” You bump your shoulder with Megan’s and she only rolls her eyes in response, keeping her arms crossed.

“I guess you could say that…” Her voice is quiet and your playful energy is immediately replaced with concern. You place a hand on her shoulder and frown. “What’s wrong?” Megan shrugs you off and now you know for a fact that something must be really wrong because when has she ever pushed away any form of physical contact? You look at her, your brows furrow in confusion. Megan continues avoiding your eyes as she speaks, “I didn’t think she was your type…” The statement causes you to raise an eyebrow. “I mean… I don’t know. She’s cute.” Megan nods, her expression still unreadable and it drives you crazy. You don’t know why it feels so weird to be around Megan right now, it’s never weird.

You look down at your feet, biting your lip. “Is that a problem? That I find her cute?” It’s silent. Megan doesn’t respond right away, just standing in front of you with her arms crossed. When you look back up, you see a small pout on her lips and it takes everything in you to not kiss it off of her. You’re not sure why your best friend is so upset and you hate to think you’re the reason behind it even if you don’t know why you would be. However, Megan’s response to your question makes your heart ache. It makes your lip tremble and for some reason, you want to runaway and cry.

Because, of course, you’re met with reality once again.

“Why would that be a problem? We’re not dating or anything.”

Megan Skiendiel has never fallen in love someone before in her life.

She has had crushes here and there. She has a set of working eyes, of course she has found many people attractive. But when she meets you.

Oh, she is smitten.

It’s not a big deal at first. Like many of her crushes in the past, she made it her mission to get to know you. Once you two exchanged numbers at that fateful party, there was never a day where you two weren’t talking. She always made an effort to talk to you, always sending you memes or selfies of herself throughout the day. She made sure to ask how you’re doing and always asked about your day. Throughout these little text conversations, Megan found herself needing more. Texts and phone calls weren’t ever enough, she needed your presence.

First, it starts with asking if you wanted to go on a late night drive.

She is basically jumping up and down for joy in the Dream Academy dorms when you first accepted the invitation, nearly tripping over herself to get her shoes on. Soon, those drives turned into a weekly tradition with either you or her driving. She wouldn’t admit it, but she loved when you offered to drive. She often loved being your passenger princess, admiring you from the passenger seat and adoring the way your features would become illuminated by lamp posts you’d drive by. This tradition evolved into her coming over to your apartment every once in a while just to hang out.

She loves watching you work on assignments for school. You would sit in front of your laptop on your bed, writing things down in your notebook. She would watch the way you push up your glasses on your face sometimes, finding your furrowed brows to be adorable in every single way possible. She loves that you don’t shy away from her touchy personality, always needing to be close to you. If you take too long studying, she would scoot closer to you just to wrap her arms around your waist. Her head would rest against your back and that would be enough.

When her crush on you begins to evolve into something much more, she tries her best to be less than subtle with how she feels.

She would constantly shower you with affection, always complimenting you and giving you gifts from the places she’d travel to. She loves to steal your sweaters and wear them to practice because it’s as if you’re right there with her, even on the hardest days. Megan desperately wanted you to see her the way she saw you. At some point, she started to post photos on Instagram solely for you to comment on. If she did her hair a certain way that day and she knew you complimented her on it in the past, there would be a million selfies of herself in her phone with that hairstyle because she knows you like it.

She loves even after her debut, you are still a constant in her life. These days, you’re almost always at the Katseye house, your absence more unusual than anything. And that’s why, after the party you two attended, and you haven’t been seen at the house in weeks, Megan begins to have a sickening feeling in her chest. After that night, she couldn’t help but notice a change in your behavior. You aren’t answering her texts as quickly and everytime she tries to call, you come up with excuse after excuse. It drives Megan crazy and for the first time since realizing it, she begins to understand just how hard it is to be in love with your best friend.

So, when Megan has had enough of you avoiding her, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

It’s 2 AM and you wake up to banging on your front door. You sit up, your heart beating out of your chest and very afraid because what the hell? You scramble out of bed, clumsily grabbing your glasses off of your nightstand and trying to find the baseball bat you keep tucked away behind your bed just in case. You grip it tightly as you tiptoe out of your room, looking around to make sure the assailant hasn’t found their way into your apartment. As you get closer to the door, you hear the banging again and it causes you to jump. You mumble a curse under your breath, leaning up to look into your peephole. You widen your eyes when you see Megan standing there looking rather pissed off.

You place the baseball bat next to the door and unlock it quickly. When you open the door, the words you originally prepared to say become stuck in your throat when you are face to face with how upset Megan looks. It’s an emotion she has been feeling for the last two weeks and you had no idea because you’ve been avoiding her. And she knows you’re avoiding her because when Megan texted you the day before, asking to go on a late night drive, you left her message on read and proceeded to post on your Instagram story.

So yeah. Megan was fucking furious.

You look at Megan, the sleep still evident in your eyes. You wipe your eyes when you notice how red Megan’s eyes are and your heart drops when you begin to realize that you could very much be the reason for it. You open your mouth to say something but Megan beats you to it, immediately stepping into the apartment. Her lips are trembling and she knows her voice is shaking but she doesn’t care— she just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

“What’s your problem?” She speaks softly, but the hard look in her eyes tells you everything. Megan is upset with you. Megan knows there’s something going on and you can’t runaway this time. You’ve been cornered and you know this could be the end of everything. You feel like the world is going to end. You’re going to lose Megan and you can’t do anything about it.

You take a sharp breath and look down at your feet. There’s a silence between the two of you. When you look up, you see Megan crying and it breaks your heart even more. Since the Chinese girl came into your life, you swore you would do everything in your power to make sure she is happy. You would do everything to make sure Megan gets everything she deserves because she is just so… good. She is the good that the world needs. She is everything and more and you do not deserve her in the slightest.

So, without another second thought, you kiss her. If this would be the last time you would ever see Megan, you would want her to know that at least one person in this world loves her unconditionally. Someone in this world knows her completely, through and through. You kiss her as if to tell her you know her favorite color, you know her favorite songs, you know how she prefers her coffee in the mornings and how she still sleeps with her stuffed animal that was given to her from her mother when she was just a baby.

But what you don’t expect is the way Megan wraps her arms around you, pulling you close. You don’t expect the way Megan responds, kissing you back. She kisses you and silently tells you that she also knows your favorite color, she also knows your favorite songs, she knows what type of flowers you like and she also knows you like the back of her own hand. You feel Megan grip your shirt as if you would be the one to disappear. And you find it so ridiculous because why is Megan worried about something so silly, something so absurd. Why would you ever leave Megan? After all this time?

You pull away, looking at Megan. You search for any discomfort in her eyes but you only see them twinkling with happiness. You watch as Megan giggles, looking away shyly and it makes your heart burst with affection. Your worries disappear when Megan doesn’t make a move to pull away. She stays in your arms as if it’s where she has always belonged. You speak first, your voice slightly shaky.

“I really like you. Like, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Megan bites her lip at your words and it only causes her to giggle more. You pull her closer, leaning your head down to bury your face in the girl’s shoulder. You mumble, “why are you laughing?” Megan shakes her head, running her hand through your hair. She whispers, her voice full of so much love that it overwhelms you completely.

“I’ve… Had the biggest crush on you for so long…”

You kiss her again as if your life depended on it. The sigh that escapes her lips, the way her hands tangle in your hair makes falling in love with your best friend a little more worth it.

While being in love with Megan Skiendiel is hard, being in a relationship with her makes up for it completely.

You sit at her desk, scrolling through your TikTok as you wait for the girl to get done getting ready for the date you two planned earlier this week. You look up at your girlfriend and you can’t help the smile on your face when you think about just how lucky you are.

You don’t even care how lovestruck you look in this moment. All Megan is doing is her makeup and to you, it’s the most riveting thing you could watch. She notices you staring through the mirror and it causes her to giggle softly, turning around as she applies her lipstick. She looks at you with an amused expression. “It’s rude to stare, you know?” You roll your eyes at her statement, getting up from the chair to walk over to her. You place your hands on her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder as you watch her continue getting ready.

She smiles warmly at you through the mirror and leans down, kissing your forehead. When she pulls away, she covers her mouth to stifle her giggles. You look in the mirror to see a very present lipstick mark and it causes you to smile goofily. You pick your head up, tapping your cheek expectantly. “I think you missed a spot…” Megan rolls her eyes in response, grabbing the collar of your shirt to bring you closer, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

Before she pulls away, she kisses your face two more times and leaves a quick peck on your lips before smiling at you with that sweet smile and her sweet whiskered dimples. “So… I saw Danielle commented on your recent on Instagram…”

“Megan, are you forreal?”

an: hiii just wanted to drop a megan au bc why not. i'm currently working on a pt. 2 for 'do i wanna know' so that will be coming sometime soon. as always, would love to hear ur thoughts and requests are open! hope u all enjoyed this as much as i liked writing it <3333

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #lara raj #sophia laforteza #jeong yoonchae #katseye #megan skiendiel x reader

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evita-shelby · 18 days ago

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Dressed

Tommy x Eva and Tommy’s habit of watching his wife dress each morning taken from this list of prompts

cw: mentions of sex, allusions to mental illness and past trauma, nudity, married life

From the moment he first laid his eyes upon her, Thomas Michael Shelby knew the sight of her from behind was one he’s never going to tire from.

She had known he was looking, smiled wickedly, and swayed her hips to make sure he got a good fucking view of her shapely ass as she walked past his window.

Did he purposely put some of her clothes in the bottom drawer so he could see her bend over each time? Well, you cannot prove anything unless you notice how much more often he is late for work despite his office being downstairs.

He likes watching her dress half as much as he likes to watch her undress. He never paid this much attention to a woman after Greta and now he fell into the old habit of just seeing her flit about the room as she got ready for another day.

Eva wakes up early, a habit she’s always had because her childhood bedrooms ---bedrooms because she lived in at least three houses--- were always facing the dawn and her time as a nurse and spy made it impossible for her sleep after five in the fucking morning. Bathes morning and night because she feels dirty if she doesn’t, always fresh as a daisy and surprising Tommy because he somehow never even hears her boil the water or even bring the bucket up the fucking stairs.

“Drop the towel, door’s locked.” Tommy suggests as he enjoys the view of her fresh from the bath and clad only in a towel that barely covers her derriere. Though nothing beats the sight of her in the nude, her in a short towel is a close second.

The witch obeys and with a look at the bedroom door to make sure he’s not mistaken, lets it drop. Two baths, two towels each time, one for her dark wavy hair and the other for her body. It’s a good thing she’s made of money and has the body of a siren, else he’d complain about habit of hers.

“You didn’t join me in the tub, would’ve liked the company.” His wife mentions as she puts on underwear that costs as much as a week’s worth of groceries followed by a waist girdle to emphasize the hourglass figure flappers want to remove from fashion.

“Did I tire you last night?” Eva teases him over his advanced age of thirty. A six-year difference between them ---no, six years and twenty-two days--- that she teases him about. Viejito, old man, she’d called him when either his joints crack or he does anything she claims is an old man thing.

“Sometimes your old man wants to watch a stag film not star in it.” The gangster does not take his eyes off her, taking in every detail of her body as if he hadn’t committed it every inch of her to memory before that first dawn came and painted her into the golden goddess he will worship forevermore. “Though I might change my mind if you don’t wear the knickers again and come visit me in my office when you return.”

The new office won’t be ready for a while; it needed some remodeling before they could inaugurate the Shelby Brothers Company at their new offices in Digbeth. His new office would boast of doors and glazed windows for privacy and a fine desk that could endure all the naughty things his witch can think of and he can make happen.

But for now, they’ll take advantage of slow days and days like this one where everyone will be conveniently away for some reason or other.

“Your wish is my command.” Eva lowers her voice to that tone she takes with him when she plays the mystical witch stealing his soul through his cock as she bends and slowly divests herself of the knickers that go under the slip and returns to dressing herself.

The sheer stockings come next, slowly and tantalizing, clipping them into place with the surprisingly strong metal fasteners attached to thick straps on her girdle. Tough things that are difficult to remove in a hurry to his annoyance. He prefers the elastic ones she wears for when he takes her out dancing or to parties or even just dates because he forgets the word patience when he wants to fuck.

��Wear the white one, the one I like.” Tommy is very good at being a husband, or so she tells him. Thoughtful, romantic, and not prone to jealousy ---or at least the kind that would forbid her from dressing how she wants.

The white dress is one in the popular style of her country, a neckline with a lacy frill that has flowers delicately embroidered on its edges and leaves her shoulders bare while emphasizing her tits. Now that they’ve come back from Brighton after spending the week of their anniversary there, her skin has regained some of its freckles and the tan she had when they came back to Small Heath as insatiable newlyweds and the one she had when she came from her country.

Though Ada liked to complain about the lack of color Eva wore ---despite her mourning period ending around the time he finally talked to her, she claimed black was her signature color--- Tommy doesn’t mind her in black and will buy all the black fabrics in Birmingham for her if she so much as asked. But he likes that white dress, the way it heightens the hourglass figure that’s gone out of fashion, the dark of her long hair flowing down her back, the golden tan that contrasts his fair skin so perfectly and the dark eyes that turn to whiskey in the sun.

But Tommy likes most the way it leaves her shoulders bare for him to kiss and mar any time he wants and the way it reminds the world she is from the land of beautiful but dangerous women and belongs to him and only him.

The thin straps of her slip are hidden from view; the waist is cinched with a belt as red as the flowers embroidered on the skirt and neckline as well as the red heels that make her look like someone who got lost and ended up in Small Heath purely by accident.

“You know that manor that’s by our tree in the road to London? The one you saw in your visions?” He brings up knowing she doesn’t need much detail to know what place he is talking about.

Arrow House, a house she saw when they made love in a bath as the morning sun in turn bathed them in a rainbow that morning in Brighton. Arrow House is the place where they’ll raise four children, ten cats, four dogs, two parrots, and twenty horses and will pass onto their eldest son, Charles Absalom Shelby.

“Yeah.” The witch spoke in monosyllables as she moved onto the vanity and applied her fancy French makeup with the skill of an artist. “Why?”

“I called our real estate agent, apparently the owners are very willing to sell it for the right price as long as we wait until summer to move into it. Something about it needing a few repairs and better plumbing for the next mistress’ ritual baths.” He can rarely surprise her, everything he hides comes to light one way or another and this time luck smiled upon him as her surprise is shown in the mirror in the form of a black crooked line under her eye.

“And hell just froze the fuck over.” The witch proclaims as she stopped trying to fix her eye to talk about this magnificent house with a great fucking bathroom and a closet large enough to live in just for her.

“I never planned to live like this forever, love, you said that house was ours then its going to be ours.” And it will be paid with his money, not a penny of hers will be touched because unlike what her posh family thinks, he can and will make sure his wife returns to her rightful place in society with him right beside her. “I said I was going to have you living like a queen and everything I promise you I make it true, Evie.”

#evacore #eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy x eva

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celtigxr · 10 months ago

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The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. iv: unforgiven

Chapter Summary: The dinner with the reunited families goes about as well as everyone thought it would.

Word Count: 3703

Sneak Peak: “Oh, shit,” Aegon spoke into the rim of his cup, a wide grin upon his face. Floris choked, forcing Clement to pat her on the back. Shyla gasped, then promptly hid her mouth with her hands. “Valeana,” Arthor hissed at her, though it fell on deaf ears.

Warnings: None, i think. Language, I suppose, lol.

T H E R E D S

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Valeana never hated her step sister more than that very moment when they gathered around the table. Floris bumped into her shoulder to take her place at Clement’s right before Val could get there. By all rights, as Bartimos’ second child, she should have sat next to her brother, but Floris was always adamant that the order of things go by age, and that she was Bartimos’s eldest daughter, not Valeana.

Floris has always been a shrew, but her attitude had soured with age. She had become more entitled and frequently bullied her sisters to do what she wanted them to do. Shyla was far too fragile to disobey, and Val picked her battles. Sometimes the headache wasn’t worth the effort.

Valeana bit her tongue as she descended into her chair, forcing herself to keep her head down, gaze away from the man across from her. Which was difficult. All her effort was put into the muscles of her neck and face, willing herself to be as close to a statue as humanly possible. Her cheek faced Aemond while she pretended to listen to the King’s toasts. From the corner of her eye, she could see him openly staring, only breaking when his father stood up to toast to forgiveness.

That was when Valeana looked at Aemond without fear of eye contact. How could he, when she now faced the side of his face that was marred and sightless. A pity, a small voice said in the back of her mind. He had such pretty lilac eyes. He still had that regal profile, though, with that strong jawline and aquiline nose. He still had those sharp bow-shaped lips. The softness of his boyishness long gone, replaced by chiseled cheekbones and sharp edges. He reminded Valeana of the tip of a sword. Proud, regal, dangerous, lethal. Unlike a sword, Val had the intrusive desire to run her tongue down the slope of his jawline.

Cursing herself, she tore her eyes away.

As more food was placed upon the table, conversations took place. The adults conversed in pleasantries filled with nostalgia, and the youth exchanged awkward glances, pretending to pay attention to what they were talking about.

Until the silence was finally broken.

“Sunfyre must be very big now, Prince Aegon,” Shyla craned her neck to find the prince in question. “I remember when he was the size of a horse.”

Aegon’s ears perked up at the mention of his dragon; it was clear that the beast was his greatest pride.

Still chewing on a roll, Aegon replied, “Oh yeth,” he took a cup of wine and drank down his morsel. “He’s gotten quite large. Big enough to fly two in his saddle.”

Shyla’s face lit up like the Grand Sept on Maiden’s Day, though Valeana was the only one who really caught it. She knew exactly how her sister perceived his words: she believed that Aegon was offering her a ride on Sunfyre.

Valeana remembers Aegon threatening to set her on fire once, because she wouldn’t stop asking to come to the Dragon Pit. They were never allowed, not even with Helaena, who’s dragon, Dreamfyre, was already domesticated and well trained. The Dragonkeepers wouldn’t allow it, and neither did their father.

“If that were true, then I’d imagine Vhagar could seat double,” Surprisingly, it was Arthor who spoke. Val wasn’t used to her youngest sibling speaking when the crowd was more than three. However, he had always been fascinated by dragons, ever since he saw the Cannibal flying around Crackclaw point.

The black wild dragon was an island regular, being so close to Dragonstone where his cave was located. When Valeana sequestered herself in her room, she would spend hours on her balcony, watching him, imagining herself being the only person alive that could claim him. The Cannibal, the wildest, largest, and dangerous of dragons alive. No one even knew how old he was, or where he came from, or how he ended up feasting on his own kind, and that made the creature all the more interesting to her.

Though she did not have the blood of the dragon, and so she kept her fascinations to herself.

Aemond turned to the young Celtigar, his smirk like coiling ribbon, “Vhagar is as mighty as her size, but I would not say she could seat four and still fly unimpeded. Three at most, I would say.”

For the first time since they arrived, Arthor smiled, “That is still impressive. I should like to see her, if it is not too much trouble.”

“I would not get your hopes up, brother,” Valeana found herself talking despite her unofficial vow of silence. Her eyes never left her plate as she cut her venison in bite size pieces, “The Dragonpit is reserved for dragonriders and their keepers.”

There was a moment of surprised silence before Aemond spoke, “Vhagar is far too big for the Dragonpit. So, to answer your question, Arthor, it would not be too much trouble, if we find the time.”

Valeana still hadn’t looked up from her food.

“Would you care to join us, Valeana?”

She froze, fork hovering over her plate, halfway to her lips. This was the first time he had said her name in ten years, at least in her presence. The first time he directly acknowledged her. There was a strained aura at their end of the table, one that the adults weren’t paying attention to.

“It can be quite daunting to be in the shadow of a beast of Conquest, but Vhagar is quite loyal to me. You will be safe under my supervision,” He continued when his question went unanswered.

Val hummed, and her body unfroze like a ship at full canvas when the rush of wind from an upcoming storm pushed it into life. No, she couldn’t help herself… Her mouth was already open, tongue sharp like an arrowhead.

“Am I? Forgive me my skepticism, Prince Aemond, but the last time I stood near you, I nearly lost my life. I do not trust you near a flight of stairs, let alone a dragon,” this time she looked directly at him, her sentence punctuated by how she put the food in her mouth. Her teeth sliding against the metal utensil as she pulled the morsel free.

“Oh, shit,” Aegon spoke into the rim of his cup, a wide grin upon his face.

Floris choked, forcing Clement to pat her on the back.

Shyla gasped, then promptly hid her mouth with her hands.

“Valeana,” Arthor hissed at her, though it fell on deaf ears.

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he tried to hold her venomous gaze, but ultimately failed. He turned his cheek to her, directing his attention to his cup instead.

“You do not need to make this more difficult than it needs to be,” His voice seemed softer, as if defeated or tired. “This is the season of peacemaking, is it not?”

Valeana couldn’t stop her eye roll, and when she did, she spotted the heated glare Floris was giving her.

Be. Nice. She mouthed.

No. Val mouthed back.

Floris cleared her throat, “Right you are, Prince Aemond. I have many fond memories of our shared youth.”

“Mhm,” Valeana nodded sarcastically as she viciously cut a carrot in half, “Like that one day when Aegon told you he had a present waiting for you in a room, and you foolishly opened a water closet while Septa Jeyne was–”

“-- I remember no such thing,” Floris was quick to shake her head, her hands making quick work of the meat on her plate.

"I do!" Aegon giggled into his cup. "I'll never forget Septa Jeyne's face," Aegon mimicked the old woman's look of shock, a silent scream on his tongue.

Floris' face was as red as the wine in her goblet that she tried to hide in.

Aegon continued, pointing at Valeana, "Do you remember when I stole one of Helaena's bugs and put it down the back of your gown?"

"Vividly," Val's tone dripped with cynicism as she side-eyed her sister, "Such fond, fond memories."

Helaena had a pained expression on her face as she turned to her brother, "The one with the many legs? I was looking for that bug for days. I cried, Aegon, remember?"

Her brother's face dropped, and something akin to shame replaced the mischievous expression, "I-- Helaena... You had so many-- It was only a bug--"

"Do you still collect insects, Princess?" Valeana decided to alter the direction of the conversation, saving Aegon from an awkward non-apology, and from Helaena having to endure it.

The Princess turned away from her brother, her features changing to something less pained, and more content. Val had clear memories of the princess being so far removed from her brothers, it was difficult to see how they were related if she did not consider her features. Though their shared memories together were limited to embroidery, since Helaena seldom left her areas of comfort, and the Celtigar girls had no taste for remaining in the same rooms from dusk to dawn. Shyla and Floris in particular couldn't stand being around the many-legged creatures that Helaena loved so dearly. Valeana had no opinion of it; she knew she didn't care for insects enough to handle them with her own hands, but she had always watched the princess from a careful distance with Queen Alicent.

She nodded, a smile showing her pride on it, "I do. One of my spiders had recently mated and made an egg sack."

Shyla made a horrified face.

"Y'know, Clement sails quite frequently to Pentos. He has seen quite exotic ones you may be interested in."

That got Helaena's attention, based on how her spine straightened and her knife and fork were forgotten, "Oh?"

Clement looked up at her, and offered her the small smile, "Uh, yes, Princess. Though, I did not know you were fond of such creatures, otherwise I would have brought one with me."

Helaena asked what was the most interesting ones he had found, and the conversation went on like that between the two. With the attention moved off of her, Valeana turned back to her food and ate silently. The minutes went by with nothing of interest being said; Aemond talked more than Valeana, though only to answer questions by the others (sans Clement) and Val was resolute in not looking at him when he talked. It wasn't until the King's voice reached their end of the table that she looked up from her emptying plate.

"Tell me, ladies, do you still sing? This old Keep was desperately missing the beautiful voices of the Celtigar girls."

Bartimos chuckled into the handkerchief as he wiped his mouth, "Oh yes, there is nothing like the song of the Sirens of Claw Isle. Girls, why don't you give us one or two?"

"Of course, papa!" Shyla stood up immediately, grin broad and eager.

“It would be an honour to perform for His Grace, and his family,” Floris replied demurely.

Valeana straightened in her seat, and her mouth went dry when she turned to her father, a slight panic in her words as she spoke.

“My lute is still packed with my belongings.”

Bartimos opened his mouth, but Viserys spoke before he could, “That’s quite alright, my dear. Your voice is instrument enough.”

Sensing his daughter’s unease, Barty adjusted himself in the chair to look at the king, “Apologies, your Grace. Valeana— She no longer performs with her voice, you see. She has turned to the strings for her music.”

“No?” It was the Queen who spoke, delicate brow furrowing as she looked over at the girl in question, “Why is that, my dear? I remember you had quite a strong voice for a girl so small.”

Valeana caught the smirk twitching at the end of Aegon’s lip from the word ‘small’, and the two caught each other’s eye. He was lucky he was so far away from her, because she had no qualms making sure he would not be able to sire heirs with a swift kick with the point of her shoe.

“Womanhood had robbed me of the skill, your Grace,” Valeana replied, then cleared her throat, still feeling it dry. Her voice failed her in talking as well, it seemed. “My voice lowered, and I could no longer hold the same notes as my sisters.”

It was a partial lie; the truth of the matter was that she lost her confidence. After the years she spent isolated, she seldom talked, and singing felt like a language she no longer understood. She only ever hummed and sang lowly and idly by herself in the privacy of her bedchambers, and even then she would cringe at the way her voice would crack when she attempted high notes that she once was able to do.

“My sisters are still lovely as always, your Grace.”

“Well, I shall like to hear you play the lute on another date then, my dear,” The King smiled kindly.

“She’s quite good!” Ursula boasted, “I personally love when she plays the lyre – puts me right to sleep!”

“Ahem,” Floris cleared her throat. She's on her feet, Shyla already on her heels, “May we begin?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” Ursula turned around in her seat to watch her daughters. “Please.”

T H E G R E E N S

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The dinner with the Celtigars was as painful as Aemond suspected. For once, he allowed his pride to step aside and try to make amends with Valeana, as a favour for his father. He had expected more indifference, or meek politeness. He did not, however, expect confrontation coming from little Valeana. That was a new development. The Valeana he remembered was polite, kind, and while she had a quick tongue to retort, it was usually to be playful or humourous. Before the incident, she often forgave Aemond for his tardiness, or when he ignored her while he was around his brother and nephews. She didn’t even put up a fight when she was the butt-end of Aegon’s jests and pranks.

“I do not trust you near a flight of stairs, let alone a dragon.”

Aemond wasn’t sure why, but that sentence felt like a gauntlet punch to his gut. Had anyone else said it, he would silently agree to it, because he wanted people to fear him. One could never trust Aemond next to Vhagar – one could not fully trust Vhagar, truly. His promise to Arthor was empty; he had no intention of letting the boy within a tourney’s field distance to the near two century old she-dragon. However, had Valeana agreed, he might have made an exception, because what greater way for him to make amends than to allow her to touch the largest dragon in the world? His dragon.

He remembered how much she longed to touch one, almost as much as he did, but was denied even to be an audience member to dragon training in the pit.

The rejection was one thing, but if Aemond was honest with himself, it was the realization of the consequences of his crime that bothered him so. As a child, he selfishly justified his actions, in all things, not just with Valeana. He justified him claiming Vhagar, he justified him calling his nephews bastards, and he justified pushing Val away from him that day. It was all self-preservation, and at the time it benefited him. He got Vhagar, he got respect, he got fear, and he got away from the overbearing friendship of Valeana Celtigar. It burdened him, and held him back. When Bartimos left King’s Landing, Aemond’s life had changed for the better. He might’ve lost an eye, and he might’ve lost a friendship, but he gained so much more.

Except… he lost a friendship. It did not occur to him how important that was until he realized it was truly gone for good.

Because she could no longer trust him. And the confirmation from her own mouth felt like he was finally facing the corpse of someone he didn’t realize was dead.

The rest of dinner went on in monotonous torture. Floris, Shyla, and Arthor respectfully tried to carry small talk with him, Helaena and Aegon as if nothing happened. Valeana remained quiet through it all, her eyes moving around him as if he was simply not there. It infuriated him. Aemond found himself staring at the crest of her head or her turned cheek, mentally chanting: look at me, look at me, look at me.

He was dead to her. A ghost she could no longer feel or see. It was a worse feeling than being disemboweled by her resentful sharp tongue and teeth. And Aemond absolutely hated her for it.

"Tell me, ladies, do you still sing? This old Keep was desperately missing the beautiful voices of the Celtigar girls,” His father asked, and Aemond and Aegon shared a look that communicated the same thing.

Seven Hells, no this shit again.

The Sirens of Claw Isle as they were known to be called, became somewhat of an annoyance for the boys growing up. There wasn’t a feast where they weren’t encouraged to sing bard songs until all departed for the night. They had lovely voices, but to Aegon, Aemond, and even Jace and Luke, it was like listening to the excessive chirping of birds at the crack of dawn. Granted, at the time, Aemond only ever soldiered through it just to hear Valeana sing. Her voice had a way of echoing through the tall ceilings and down corridors, holding onto notes longer than her sisters. It was almost haunting.

“...She no longer performs with her voice, you see. She has turned to the strings for her music.”

At this, Aemond tilted his head and examined Valeana as she explained herself. Her neck, cheeks, and tip of her ears got a tinge of pink. She was embarrassed…or ashamed?

Curious…

Perhaps there was a gap in her armour after all.

A part of him was slightly disappointed.

After a rather ear-bleeding rendition of “The Maids that Bloom in Spring”, supper finally ended. When his father stood, so did everyone else. The King bid a good night, not without giving Bartimos a hug, a handshake to the Celtigar sons, and kisses on the cheeks of the girls. His mother did the same, leaving when the King made his exit. Soon Otto, Bartimos, and Ursula followed suit.

As the group filtered out of the Small Hall, making their way back to the Holdfast, Aemond lingered at the tail. Clement was still conversing with Helaena about Pentos, which reminded him of how his grandsire suggested that the King may match the two. Seeing how the two easily conversed, the possibility seemed far more plausible than her thought.

Valeana was a step behind them, walking alongside Arthor who examined the statues and tapestries they passed by. Floris had Shyla’s arm clutched in hers, and it was painfully evident that the younger girl was trying to free herself so she may crowd around Aegon.

Aegon, who was also trying to put distance between him and the eager girl, fell into step next to his brother.

“Well, that went splendidly,” Aegon said once there is enough distance between them and the others ahead. “I half expected her to take out your other eye.”

Aemond sighed heavily through his nose, attention set straight ahead of him, “I am sure she thought of it. She loathes me.”

“Can you blame her,” Aegon’s attention was on Shyla, who was craning her neck over her shoulder to catch a glimpse at him. Aegon wiggled his fingers at her, granting him a large, gummy grin.

“Father wishes me to reconcile,” Aemond ignores Shyla and instead watches the back of Val’s head. “But he asks for the impossible. She barely looks at me, and when she does…”

“Oh, I am aware, dear brother, it has become the source of my entertainment this evening.”

“I am glad my misery has been that for you, brother.”

Aegon turned to him, his eyebrow raised curiously, the corner of his lips upturned, “Does it cause you misery, Aemond? That she despises you?”

Aemond stopped walking to glare at him, his hands like stiff tree trunks at his sides. Aegon slowed to a stop in front of him, tilting his head, waiting for an answer.

“That farce of a supper was miserable. Why would she cause me any other emotion other than apathy? She is a stranger to me.”

“She was your friend once, if I recall,” Aegon folded his arms over his chest, and relaxed his leg to stand casually. “And your betrothed.”

“It was not a friendship,” Aemond lied through his teeth, “None of us were friends with the sisters. We hated them, do you recall?”

“Oh, I recall Luke, Jace, and I hating them quite a bit. But I also remember you and Val exchanging love notes.”

“They were not–” Aemond stopped himself, moving a hand over his face and sighing through his nose again. “She clung to me like pollen to a bee. It was annoying, it was overbearing, it was too much.”

Aegon narrowed his eyes at his brother skeptically, but he then quickly shrugged, accepting his words. “Fine, she fancied you a bit too much. Does it bother you that she doesn’t anymore? I bet it bruises your ego… Maybe it’s,” he waved a hand around his eyepatch, “Maybe it’s the eye. You’re half as handsome now–Ouf.”

With a rough slam with his shoulder, Aemond pushed through Aegon with the force of his step. As his back faced his brother, Aegon started to giggle madly behind him.

Echoes of oinks and kissy noises reverberated in Aemond’s memory.

“Well, if you feel nothing but apathy towards her, then mayhaps I should try courting her?” Aegon started to stride towards him, keeping up with his pace. “It would make father happy, uniting the Valyrian houses and all that noise.”

“You’re free to try, brother,” Aemond replied, voice clipped and dismissive. Valeana would never consider Aegon. She would never entertain the idea. It was absolutely ludicrous.

Wasn’t it?

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos

(if you wish to be tagged for updates, please reply and ask!)

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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szfiction · 1 year ago

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@danielitsmebitch replied: Tsukasa always has to pick like the little bones in Senku’s fishes because he can’t do it correctly :p

[Read on AO3]

“For a scientist, you don’t always have the sharpest eyes, do you, Senku?” Tsukasa teases, the amusement on his face enough to have Senku rolling his eyes.

“I’m not some species of bird that can change the shape of its cornea for improved vision,” Senku sneers. “And sorry, Tsukasa, but I never claimed to be an expert in culinary science.”

Tsukasa hums, nodding in a placating way that likely comes across as patronizing. “Is that so? I didn’t know that you considered a job so menial to be a ‘science’.”

Senku grumbles something incomprehensible, resting a hand on his cheek and watching Tsukasa with an irritated expression. Tsukasa chuckles, and it’s surprisingly soft, still feeling foreign coming from his own mouth; at least in such a genuine manner.

This ‘job’ that Tsukasa has undertaken is simple enough: picking out the tiny fishbones of their catches of the day before they are set up to cook in their wood fire oven. With Francois revived as the go-to chef, it is not common that they have to cook alone, but with the growing size of the combined Kingdom of Science and Empire of Might, and the groups spread between their various camps, they are not always available. Thus, someone else has to undertake the responsibility—for Senku’s sake.

“Have your friends from Ishigami village never thought to teach you this?” Tsukasa asks, yanking out another bone between his fingertips. “Surely they’ve had plenty of experience, coming from a community located on an island.”

Senku shrugs. “Not like it’s a big deal. Swallowing fishbones is generally harmless. The gastric acid secreted by the stomach dissolves them within a week. And any steps I can skip in this type of prep work, I skip.”

“Right,” Tsukasa says. “And it’s still harmless when you choke on it?”

“…those incidents are outliers,” Senku mutters.

“Then I must have inconvenient timing, catching it twice now,” Tsukasa points out. It had been quite the scare the previous day, when Senku fell into a coughing fit in the middle of dinner, bending forward and face going a little red. Tsukasa had jumped in quickly, giving him hard pats on the back to assist, and soon, the bone was dislodged from Senku’s throat—much to his embarrassment, considering the little scene he’d caused.

“Twice?” Senku asks, brows furrowing.

“Mhm,” Tsukasa hums. “Twice.”

It takes a moment before comprehension lights up Senku’s expression, and a tiny smirk crosses his lips. “Ah. Right. Back when it was just you, me, and Taiju.”

“Taiju was worried you were dying on us,” Tsukasa recounts.

“Yeah, he was way too dramatic about it. And then he almost choked,” Senku muses. He huffs amusedly. “You had to make sure to pick the bones out for both of us after that. Looks like you’re right back where you started, huh?”

Such an idea settles pleasantly in Tsukasa’s mind. “It looks that way.”

“Kinda delicate work for the ‘Strongest Primate High Schooler’, though,” Senku teases. “And most people use tweezers, so it’s pretty impressive you’re doing it with only your oversized fingers.”

“I had lots of practice growing up.”

“For you and Mirai?”

Tsukasa nods. “Before she was hospitalized, I always cooked for the both of us, and I never wanted to risk her choking.”

“You’re a natural caretaker, huh?”

“I’m not too sure about that,” Tsukasa says. “It’s natural to share the skills and knowledge you have. Back when I was with my own group, I guided several of those recently revived through the steps to properly clean, cut, and fillet their fish before cooking as well.”

“You’re proving my point,” Senku says, amused.

Tsukasa shrugs. “I simply contribute how I can. Though, I still find it difficult to believe there aren’t others who would do this for you, Senku.”

“There might be. But you’re the one who offered, so it’d be illogical to ask someone else now.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m stuck with you?”

“If that’s how you wanna play it,” Senku answers, the smirk on his lips and his playful tone dwelling into territory that sets off alarms in Tsukasa’s mind.

“Careful, Senku,” Tsukasa warns. “If you give me permission, I might push my caretaking privileges further.”

Senku snickers. “Oh yeah, like how? Tucking me in at night and telling me a bedtime story?”

“If you’d prefer to be treated in such a childish way…”

Senku shoves his shoulder. “Shut up, no way in hell.”

Tsukasa laughs, fondness curling in his belly as he wipes his hands clean with a cloth, the fish in front of him now perfectly safe for consumption. He rests a hand on his cheek, turning to stare openly at Senku, who meets his gaze with a curious glint in his eyes.

“Truthfully, I don’t have anything in mind,” Tsukasa admits. “But I don’t mind playing the role of protector when it’s for your sake.”

Senku scoffs, shaking his head and fiddling with the papers in front of him. “Well, you already signed up for fighting duties when you joined the Kingdom of Science, big guy, so I don’t expect you’ll slack off.”

“Of course not,” Tsukasa agrees. “Especially not when it comes to you.”

And perhaps it’s simply the sun beating down on them, or a trick of the light, but Tsukasa swears there is a light dusting of pink adorning Senku’s cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, quit it with the saccharine words and lovestruck looks,” Senku says. “Don’t you have cooking to do?”

Tsukasa chuckles softly. “I’m on it.”

Senku nods, satisfied, and proceeds to make an excuse for himself, declaring he has something or another to work on in the lab. Tsukasa watches him as he goes, unable to shake his smile all the while, and when Senku sneaks one final glance back at him, it’s hardly his fault that it grows even wider.

Yes, Tsukasa thinks, as he turns back to his own task, feeling oddly hopeful in a way he never could have anticipated even a year prior. Perhaps tedious work suits me after all.

#dcst #dr. stone #tsukasen #shishio tsukasa #ishigami senku #my fics #No I did not forget about this post and yes there will be more of these coming in the future #and I am absolutely still taking more requests

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yu6mi · 2 years ago

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TAKE MY BREATH AWAY!

₊˚⊹♡ Includes: Dazai Osamu.

sypnosis: being touched by you seems like a dream.

A/N: this is pure fluff but also suggestive??? so careful w that!! i think I CAN'T TELL IF THIS IS TOO SHORT OR NOT HELP im way too sleepy

Touch. It morphed into different feelings depending on the person who initiated it.

If it was hard or rough, it would hurt. If it was soft and tender, it felt good. If someone you hated touched you, you hated it, too. But if someone you loved touched you, you loved it, too.

Touch was difficult to understand; some people hated being touched, while others loved being touched.

It was strange that someone so touchy felt this flustered just by a singular, gentle touch from someone who hated touching anyone.

Dazai didn't know if he could put the emotion he was currently experiencing into words. Because 'love' was a strong word for someone who had the reputation of a liar. He didn't even know if he was allowed to have such feelings for someone— or something. Well, it didn't matter to him right now. Too focused on his thoughts.

Why?

Well, because delicate, warm fingers were tracing the shape of his humanity, touching his body like it was some type of delicate work of art. Experimenting between firm touches and tender caresses from his jaw to his bandaged torso. Dazai's hands are placed on your hips as your legs are splayed across his lap. At this point, the air is barely clinging to his lungs, and he feels like the only thing he's breathing is your affection.

You kiss his cheek again and again. Lipstick stains showing your existence in his face.

"You're surprisingly touchy tonight..." He muses, drawing soothing thumbs on your thighs. You nodded with a smile before gently attacking his bandaged neck with tender kisses, pressing softly. Like he would break.

"Am I really?" You muttered so delicately that it melted his heart. He released a small chuckle in reply. "I just missed you too much."

One of his hands went to her cheek, caressing it softly. Her head moved slightly to press a singular small kiss on his palm; he couldn't help but compare her to a puppy being caressed. "I can tell."

Dazai was sprawled over his futon with you on top of him, pampering him after a particularly long mission, kissing every place your lips would find, caressing every part of him just to feel him. Tattooing her kisses on his collarbones while getting rid of any fabric that separated their hearts.

"Are you comfortable?" She whispered closely, her back arched on his lap, her lips on his ear. He couldn't have been better.

"You're so pretty, 'Samu.." She sat back again on his lap, and whispered for only him to hear. Her index finger was drawing hearts over his stomach. Making Dazai shiver at the not-so-innocent action. "Though, you probably already know that."

How nice it seemed to be able to dote on someone. "I do, but I like it when you remind me."

A small laugh comes from her as Dazai sits straight. He gently kisses her nose and presses his forehead against hers. Like no amount of proximity seemed to be enough for them.

Their lips were only inches from touching, their warm breaths caressing each other like a soft wind. Her fingers meandered to the belt strap of his pants, causing him to blush and hide his face in the crock of her neck. Pressing a gentle kiss on it, trying to hide how nervous he actually felt. Because it was you.

A low groan came from him as soon as you touched his boxers. He couldn't help it, you felt so right against him. Dazai shallowed thickly, and with a smirk, he asked. "What are you doing, hm?"

Though, he stopped smirking when he saw the confused puppy expression that was on your face. Before a small, cute smile remplaced it. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I'm trying to wake you up."

The sunlight of his small apartment greeted him as soon as he opened his eyes. Little creases of confusion plastered themselves on his face as he tried to figure out what you meant. Though, he didn't need to.

His phone rang with the call of his partner, Kunikida. And he couldn't help but sigh as he gently slammed his heated face.

With rosy cheeks and a warm body, he groaned. He should've known, It was too good to be true.

With a pounding heart, he hugged his pillow. Trying to fall asleep again.

Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the dream will continue. He can endure a scolding from Kunikida, but only if dream-you gives him a sweet, lovely kiss.

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #f!reader

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bigasswritingmagnet · 7 months ago

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Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Oggie/Oggie's Wife Summary: De night it vos my turn to taste de Jägerdraught, she left camp. Din leave nottin, din take nottin. It vos ten years later, ven ve vos out pillaging, dot Hy found out she had taken someting avay vit her after all.

Ten long years ago a story was left without an ending. Radka believed if she simply stopped telling the tale it would never need to be finished. Before she could tell Ognian about her pregnancy and before he could risk his life taking the Jägerdraught, she fled, leaving the pages of their story open and free of that final note of tragedy.

But the reality is, lives are not chapters in a book, and the story doesn't go away just because you stopped reading. Ognian gets the surprise of his life and Radka has a lot of explaining to do.

AO3 Link | Sequel to The End - Or Lack Thereof

“Vasil.”

The boy scowled at his feet, shoulders hunched.

“Vasil.”

Finally, he lifted his head and met her eyes. Vasil was the spitting image of his father, except for his eyes (which was unfortunate, but better her eyes than be burdened with her chin). Ognian might be dead, or he might be alive, but either way Radka could see him every day in Vasil’s laugh, his voice, in the wrinkle of his nose and the light in his eyes – even if they were the wrong shape and color.

It was exactly what she had wanted, and it was a knife in her heart every time.

But while the face was Ognian’s, that sullen, stubborn glare was all Radka.

“You cannot fight the world for me.”

“He called you a whore.”

“He called you a whoreson.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“Only technically.”

Radka had tried to teach him her way of dealing with people, cutting them with words, which could hurt just as well and didn’t get you in near as much trouble. She thought he might take to it – he had not inherited Ognian’s mental acuity, for which Radka was also thankful – but Vasil found physical retribution faster and easier.

“I hate this stupid town!” Vasil exploded. “Everyone thinks they’re better than us! They all talk about us behind our backs, and you want us to just smile and ignore it!”

Radka had travelled as far from Mechanicsburg as she could get before travel became too difficult, and settled in a little town called Poveste, which she came to loathe exactly ten minutes after it was too late to leave. The tavern owners were condescendingly sympathetic to a young woman in the family way by a mysterious man she would not name who ‘might be dead’, and allowed her to perform for their guests when they had them, and scrub the floors when they did not.

They even offered room and board in exchange for a percentage of her earnings, but Radka would rather scrape by in the lean winter months than put up with daily compliments about how surprisingly moral she was for a ruined woman.

“You don’t have to ignore it, and you don’t have to like it, but we live here, Vasil, and that means we have to get along with people.”

“So why don’t we just go?”

“Even if we could afford to move, anywhere we could afford to live would be just like this, with no guarantee I could find work.” It was an old argument, and one they had been having more and more frequently as Vasil grew older and less satisfied with the life around him. Radka didn’t like it much either, but what else could she do? Pack up and go to Mechanicsburg and hope whatever family Ognian had believed her?

“We could—”

“You are changing the subject,” Radka pointed out. “I want you to stop fighting each and every person in the world who makes the smallest slight against me. Do you think you might be physically capable of that?”

Vasil opened his mouth, but before he could answer – not that it mattered, she knew the answer would be ‘no’ – the bell in the center of town began to ring the frantic, desperate tones of alarm.

Radka flew to the door and stuck her head outside. Doors were slamming shut, men and women were running for shelter or for weapons. When she looked down the road out of town, she could see a distant red glow drowning the stars.

“Jӓgermonsters! Jӓgermonsters coming from the west! It’s the Heterodyne!”

“Well, shit.”

Radka closed the door and shot the deadbolt home, as if it would buy them more than a few extra seconds.

“Mama?” Vasil was looking up at her with wide, worried eyes. Radka tried to think sensibly. She could not trust that every one of the Heterodyne’s men would recognize her, especially in the chaos of an attack. She needed to think of them as the monsters they were, not as the men she performed for.

“Close all the shutters, lock the back door. Poveste is too small and too poor to be their main target. This is just them blowing off some steam. They’ll burn a few buildings and kill a few cows as they ride through, but they won’t stop.”

I hope.

“How do you know?”

“I know many things. Go.”

Radka took the box with their savings and buried it in the coal box, but left what little jewelry she had lying on her dresser. If someone did come in here, they might not think to look for hidden things if they found something valuable laying around.

They heard the thundering of hooves, the pounding of feet, and the unnatural howling of the Jӓgers — monsters and man alike. Radka clutched Vasil to herself, but when she glanced down at him, she saw no fear in his face, only a grim solemnity that made him look unusually unlike his father.

Vasil was five when he first asked why he didn’t have a father. Radka didn’t like to lie to him, but she didn’t think he would understand if she told him. He had been old enough to understand the concept of death and grief, but far too young to understand the fear of them.

“I had to leave him behind,” Radka had told him. “He might be dead now.”

“Are you sad?”

“Yes. But I have you.”

You couldn’t prove a negative. If she didn’t see him, it only meant she couldn’t spot him in the dark and the chaos. But if she did see him…

Radka slid open one of the shutters, just enough that she could see the road and the front walk. They were moving fast, and lit only by torchlight and burning buildings, and Radka could not see their faces beyond a jumble of fangs and snouts and fur.

One man, tearing by on foot, snagged the rose trellis at the foot of the path to the door and brought it crashing down, tearing the flowers up by the roots. He didn’t even stop to see his handwork.

“Unnecessary,” Radka muttered.

And realized she was no longer holding Vasil. The door was swinging wide open. Radka looked back out the window and – Vasil. Standing in the road. Holding a rock. Face twisted with outrage.

Radka let out a low moan of horror and lunged for the door. Just as she reached the doorframe, Vasil drew back his arm and threw.

The world seemed to slow. Everything was hushed and distant. Radka’s eyes followed the stone as it slid through the air and thought not this kind of tragedy, not this kind of tragedy, not this kind of tragedy—

Then the rock cracked against the back of the Jӓgermonster’s skull, and the screaming and shouting and chaos came rushing back. Radka’s muscles tensed, but before she could make a move to haul Vasil back inside to safety, her heart stopped in her chest because Ognian turned around.

Ognian.

Alive.

Battle axe clutched in one hand, a military greatcoat over a bare chest, rubbing the back of his head and staring at Vasil with a goggle-eyed disbelief that Radka would have gleefully mocked him for, once. His blonde hair was tucked behind pointed ears and in his open mouth she could see

Vill hyu still let me kiss hyu ven Hy gets de teeth?

fangs, but it was still Oggie. It was Oggie and he was burning the town down around her ears and she was so happy to see him she could have cried.

I will, she wanted to say. I want to kiss you, I will always want to kiss you.

Vasil pointed at the shattered trellis and uprooted roses.

“You’re a tough guy, huh?” he shouted over the crash of weapons and the screams of excitement and terror. “Yeah, really impressive, knocking down a plant. Why don’t you hit something that can hit back?”

Ognian checked his hand – no blood – and visibly shook himself.

“Hyu go back inside, kid,” he said, sharply. “Vere iz safe.”

Radka felt faint. Her heart ached. Just the sound of his voice nearly brought her to her knees. This had to be love, there was no other way to explain how she could be standing on the wrong end of a Jäger raid and feel for him exactly as she had when she knew him as nothing but her lover.

Vasil raised his fists, feet sliding into the position she had taught him. He’d learned the fighting part well; it was the your goal is to end the fight and get away as quickly as possible part that consistently escaped him.

“Fight me,” he demanded. “You coward.”

Ognian’s face went hard. He bared his fangs and stalked towards Vasil.

“Hyu vant a fight?” He lifted up his battle axe, which had never seemed to sharp and so deadly as it did now, the light of the burning bakery glinting off its edges like fresh blood.

Vasil stood, unmoving and unafraid, as Ognian stalked towards him. Radka felt panic make her chest go tight. Vasil was exactly as stubborn as his father. Unstoppable force and immovable object: Ognian was going to try and scare him away, and Vasil would call his bluff, and then what would Ognian do?

Ognian raised his axe one handed over his head.

Vasil tensed, drawing back his fist.

Because Ognian was bluffing. He had to be bluffing. He had to be. She knew Ognian, and yes, it had been ten years but she knew even the worst of the Jӓgers thought twice about mowing down children, surely he would never…

Radka realized she was standing there like the prize maiden sworn to be handed off to whichever knight in shining armor won the fight.

“Ognian! Oggie, don’t!”

Both her boys froze. Both looked to her.

Ognian’s jaw dropped.

Very slowly, moving no other muscles, Vasil and Ognian turned their heads back to stare at each other. The axe fell out of Ognian’s still upraised hand, landing blade-first in the dirt road and sticking.

Radka darted forward, grabbed them both by their collars, and dragged them into the house. Pushing them inside, she slammed the door behind herself.

“Vasil,” she said, conversationally. “Do you remember the conversation we just had when I said not to fight the world for me?” Radka gestured at the door. “That? That was exactly what I was asking you not to do.”

She was vibrating with nerves and something like fear, her eyes flicking back and forth between Ognian and Vasil’s faces so quickly it nearly made her dizzy. Both were still staring at her, Vasil as if he had never laid eyes on her before, Ognian as if he couldn’t tell if she was real or a hallucination.

Radka wondered what kind of a picture she made to him. Part of her was surprised he’d recognized her – sometimes she barely recognized herself. Her clothes were practical wool dyed practical colors, no flashy silks or low-cut vests. Her figure had gone soft after the pregnancy; life had seen fit to sneak early greys into her ginger curls. Worry and stress had carved their lines on her face.

But Ognian had changed, too, now that she could see him closer in the light. Not older – he would never look older, not anymore – but different. He had never been a fastidious man, but he had kept himself clean cut. Ognian was unshaven, his hair shaggy, looking long out of neglect rather than design. Beneath even that, there was something else she could not quite put her finger on. Something harder and sharper. Perhaps the Jägerdraught changed things on the inside, too.

Jerkily, she gestured between the two.

“Ognian, Vasil. Vasil, Ognian.”

Radka clasped her hands in front of herself and waited while the two stared at each other. At no point had she ever imagined this moment. Secret sons and fathers were deathbed revelations given by a woman who would immediately die and thus never have to explain herself to either party or face any consequences for her actions.

Radka was in a lot of trouble.

“A Jӓgermonster?” Vasil shouted. “You said he was dead!”

“I said he might be dead.”

“You didn’t say he might be a Jӓgermonster!”

“Because, Vasil, my having had a Heterodyne raider for a lover would be quite a problem here, and you – like your father before you – are a great big blabbermouth.”

“I am not!” Ognian and Vasil both said at the same time, and stared at each other again.

Then Ognian looked at Radka, who forced herself to meet his eyes and not shrink back.

“I was going to tell you,” she said, “and then you were going to be a Jӓger, and you…and then I didn’t tell you.”

No immediate response. Radka’s strength failed her, and she looked away. When at last Ognian spoke his voice was low, disbelieving, and full of pain.

“Hyu did dis to me on purpose?”

“I didn’t do anything to you—”

“Didn’t do anyting?” Ognian interrupted, anger slowly consuming betrayal. “Didn’t do anyting? Hyu tell me hyu von’t care if Hy become a Jӓger, den hyu leave vitout effen a note! Hyu haff my son, und hyu vuz neffer goink to tell me! Hy vould go my whole life not knowink und it iz gonna be a real long life, Radka!”

“No, you wouldn’t know! It would not hurt you, because you were either dead or ignorant of the fact, and therefore, not in any position to be injured—”

“Hyu tink hyu leavink didn’t hurt?” Ognian demanded, and Radka flinched. “Hy thought—hyu said hyu didn’t care but den hyu left!”

Radka shut her eyes. What a marvelous plan she had had, if Ognian had been a character in a story who disappeared the moment he was off-stage. In leaving, she had avoided her tragedy and served Ognian his on a silver platter. Can you still love me when I am a Jäger? No. So very no that she would take off running and never look back.

That was the hardness in his face, she realized. She had cut him deeply enough to leave scars. She’d broken his heart.

“How many soldiers do you know who would be pleased to discover they are suddenly saddled with a pregnant lover?”

“Me!” Ognian shouted. “Me! Hy vould! Hyu tink Hy vould, vut, trow hyu avay? Iz dot de kind of man hyu tink Hy am?”

“I didn’t know what you would do!” Radka snapped. “It wasn’t like we’d ever discussed it!”

“Hyu could haff asked!”

“Oh, yes,” Radka said, sarcastically, and put on a voice of poisonous false cheer. “’Hello, my swain, apropos of nothing, how would you feel in a purely hypothetical situation if I were to say, accidentally get pregnant by you just as you are about to become a Jäger?’ Ognian, you have your moments, but you are not that stupid!”

“Hyu iz goink to make fun of me now? Hy’z not an idiot, und Hy’z not a bird!”

Radka stared, brow furrowed, and then put her hand to her face. “Swain, Ognian, not swan. It means lover.”

“Now hyu iz tryink to give me a vocabulary lesson!” Ognian shouted, hysterically. “Vut iz wrong vit hyu?”

“I didn’t want to know!” Radka shouted back. “That was why! It had nothing to do with you being a Jäger, it was about you becoming a Jäger! There was a ninety percent chance you were going to die horrifically, and I didn’t want to know if I was living in a world that didn’t have you in it! You wouldn’t be a tragedy if I never saw the ending!”

Ognian stared at her, mouth wide open. He let out a wordless scream of frustration, burying his hands in his hair. He walked away and then swung back, furious, marching towards her, jabbing a finger at her.

“Hyu and hyu damn stories—!”

Vasil, who had been watching, silent and forgotten, leapt in and shoved Ognian hard. It was only because Ognian was in motion and caught off guard that it made the Jӓger stumble back a few steps.

“Don’t yell at her!” Vasil shouted, fists clenched.

“Und Hy dun effen know vut to tink about hyu!”

Tears began to stream down Vasil’s face, and Radka’s heart shattered again and again with every word. “How do you think I feel? All my life she told me my father was so great and she loved him so much and I get you! I get a Jӓgermonster and you’re yelling at her and you wrecked our garden and I hate you!”

Radka crossed the floor, dropped to her knees and hugged him tightly. Vasil collapsed sobbing into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Their door burst open and three Jӓgers came pouring in. They immediately screeched to a halt, their laughter dying on their lips. Radka glanced at Ognian, and knew what a picture they made. Mother and son cowering away from the big bad Jӓgermonster.

Not a man having his entire life turned upside down by the woman he’d...

“Get out!” Ognian bellowed, and the Jӓgers scrambled away, the last one even pulling the door shut behind him.

The surprise had drained the tension from the room. Vasil was hiccupping and sniffling, but his tears had stopped enough that he could wipe his face. Ognian leaned against the table, rubbing his forehead and staring at his feet.

And Radka…

“I didn’t think it would hurt you,” Radka said, softly, “because I didn’t think you’d be alive to be hurt. It was too...poetic. I show up to tell you I’m carrying your child moments after you’re chosen for a ceremony that kills most people who take it.” She looked at Vasil, who was watching her with an oddly wary expression. “I never told you that your father might be a Jäger because I didn’t think he was. And he is absolutely right.”

Ognian looked up in surprise.

“He is perfectly justified in being angry at me for making major life decisions that affected us both, based on the assumption that the real world operates like a story, without his input.”

“So vut vuz all dot about me beink too stupid to die?” Ognian demanded, without much ire.

“Narrative convention would outweigh your intellect, obviously,” Radka said, with a dry and humorless twist of her mouth. “It would have been the perfect end to a romantic tragedy, and I played my part, resigning myself to a life of joyless drudgery, the fire of any kind of happiness gone out save the one piece of you I was so lucky as to get.”

And then Ognian and Vasil turned to each other and shared A Look – the look of two people commiserating over a situation that was exasperating, but not unexpected.

“Yes, alright,” Radka said, irritably.

“Mama…” Vasil said, with great pain on his face. “Mama, that’s stupid.”

“Thank you, Vasil, I am aware.”

“Now,” Ognian pointed out. He glanced at the door and cocked his head, listening. Radka heard it too—the sounds of chaos were a little further away. “Ve iz only passink through on our vay home. Hy can’t stay.”

“Well,” Radka said, standing and brushing her knees off, not looking at Ognian. “I can hardly keep you here—”

“Oh no, no, no,” Ognian interrupted, once more jabbing a finger at her. “Hy dun tink so. Hyu dun get out of dis dot easy. Hy iz not leavink hyu here to have to raise our son all by hyuself. Hyu tought Hy vould die because it vuz a tragedy, but Hy iz still here. If it izn’t a tragedy, it iz a comedy, und hyu said a comedy ends in a vedding or a feast, und Hy…”

He gestured around the room.

“Dun see any food.”

Radka’s mouth popped open.

“That,” she managed at last, “is the least romantic and most personally tailored proposal I have ever heard.”

“Iz dot a yes?”

There was an insistent tugging at her sleeve. Vasil stared up at her, imploringly.

“If you marry a Jägermonster, we don’t have to live in Poveste anymore,” he said, earnestly.

“I…well, no, obviously, but—”

Ognian took her hand and drew her in, putting his hands on her shoulders. Radka’s mouth began to wobble.

“It didn’t even work,” she whispered. “I put everybody through all that and it still hurt.”

“Vell maybe hyu learn hyu lesson for next time.”

He pressed his mouth to hers in the most wonderful, most emotionally complicated kiss of her life. His arms were as strong as she remembered them.

When they pulled away, Ognian’s expression was slightly worried.

“Dot’s definitely a yez, right?”

Radka smiled, her heart swelling, and put a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I am delighted to see you have not grown a single ounce of brain in the last ten years, you deeply stupid light of my life. Yes, Ognian, I will marry you. With all my heart.”

The kiss was longer and a little deeper this time. They both ignored the quiet blech from Vasil. When at last Ognian pulled away, it was with great reluctance.

“Hy should probably go before anybody sees me.”

“Go out the back. We’ll pack and leave at dawn.” She smiled. “You’re an easy bunch to track.”

“Ve iz takink de east road,” he told her. “De Heterodyne vill camp soon.” He kissed her again, briefly. Then to Vasil, he said “Hey, ven ve get to Mechanicsburg, Hy build hyu a new flower ting, ya?”

“Trellis,” Vasil sniffed. Then, with some forbearance, “Okay.”

Ognian squeezed Radka’s hand one last time, and was gone.

And then it was Radka and Vasil alone, again. If she didn’t look at the broken deadbolt on the door, she could pretend it had never happened. Some strange and terrible part of her brain played the story of her and Vasil running in the opposite direction, leaving Ognian waiting, waiting forever and ever, his heart breaking all over again—

She took a deep breath.

“Vasil, could you start packing? Fast and light. Mama’s going to lie down and have hysterics for a bit.”

#girl genius #ognian #ognian girl genius #the working title for this was The Conses Sure Do Quence #radka over here like 'oh no i forgot about narrative causality'

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yappacadaver · 1 month ago

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Your OC as a Flower 🪻

Got tagged by @paramortality (tysm!!! ilu!!!) at such a strange and topical time cause i was JUST thinking about flower symbolism with the Characters so here we go hehe :33 I'm giving a flower to raymond too idc if he's not my oc i just did a painting abt this x'D

Yumi Sato: Dandelion

The Dandelion grows across North America and Europe, and was introduced into many other continents as well. The leaves and flowers are both edible and quite healthy, with the flowers tasting less bitter than the leaves. Many rural people still use the flowers for making Dandelion wine in the summer. The root of the plant also contains compounds believed to relieve kidney and bladder problems when drunk as a tea. (x)

The dandelion has no official meaning by Victorian standards, being only a common weed. However the cheerful yellow flower is hardy, capable of growing through adverse conditions, and shows its bright face through any difficulties. The flower can be said to symbolize perseverance, and tenacity. It also evokes celestial imagery, with the bright bloom resembling the sun, the white puff mimicking the moon, and the silvery seeds seeming like stars as they float through the air-- through this cycle it can be seen as a symbol of transformation. It is known as a medicinal plant to many cultures.

Yumi's changed a lot through her difficult life, but she's stubborn as a weed and still somehow hasn't died yet xD young at heart, and with her head often in the clouds, one of her best qualities is her penchant for joy! Yellow is also definitely her character color

Raymond Delver: Forget-Me-Not

Delicate and unassuming, the forget-me-not flower carries a profound symbolism that transcends its modest size. This charming bloom, with its vibrant blue petals and cheerful yellow centers, has captivated hearts and minds for centuries. Known for its association with love, remembrance, and devotion, the forget-me-not flower is rich in history and meaning across cultures. The flower’s botanical genus, Myosotis, comes from the Greek words myos (mouse) and otis (ear), referencing the plant’s fuzzy, ear-shaped leaves. (x)

Forget-me-not flowers hold deep meaning for both the living and the dead. While they symbolize an eternal love, they are as often seen in funerals as they are in a romantic bouquet. It is not uncommon to receive forget-me-not seeds after a wake or recent death. These flowers promise reunion between separated lovers. The little blue blooms are surprisingly resilient, able to survive in cold climes as well as temperate.

Raymond has a preoccupation with eternity, and a deep well in his heart from which to draw both love and grief. He can survive a lot, but he's desperate not to do it alone. Pleading comes naturally to him, even after decades of hardening his façade. he's my little blue flower

No pressure taggies: @avoskorm @silshinobii @full---ofstarlight

#I love his flower being the PWEASE DONT WEAVE ME Q_Q flower #i need a yumi tag #mr delver i wont u…#normalposting #rayumi #raymond delver

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zepskies · 9 months ago

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Hey Zep! When writing Soldier Boy/Ben angst, what themes do you think really drive angst when writing his stories?

Ah, interesting question! 💚

Angst in itself is just tension and conflict in a scene, right? So it can be heartbreaking, confusing, broody, frustrating conflict, but I don't typically think of it in terms of themes surrounding a character when I'm writing.

Angst/conflict comes based on what kind of story I'm trying to tell, and the pacing of it. It comes down to what situation is driving a scene, and how the characters involved respond to it, given their personalities.

Soldier Boy/Ben can create angst just by being himself (arrogant, narcissistic, callous, etc.). All the less than charming facets of his personality are good places to start when it comes to creating angsty situations: his misogyny, drug abuse to cover his trauma/PTSD, his lack of care for collateral damage, his bravado, his pride and selfishness, the way he props himself up based on a sham career, how difficult it is for men like him to show any kind of vulnerability or emotional intimacy -- and the biggest conflict of all -- trying to create humanizing moments for Ben, despite his powers, and all of these major character flaws.

How he acts based on his personality is often the source of tension in any scene I write him in, or even the unpredictability of it.

Not knowing how he's going to respond to something already keeps readers on the edge of their seat. And when he does act or speak, whether it's what you expected or not, you can either up the ante on that tension, or relieve the tension.

That said, I'll give you two examples of ways I've written angst with Soldier Boy:

1. Lost on You (Soldier Boy x F. Supe!Reader)

In this story, the reader (Sirena) spends most of the story manipulating Ben for her own ends, despite the fact that she's falling for him in the process. When all of those lies and manipulations come to a head in Part 8, she lets him have it. She finally tells him (almost) everything she's been holding back.

Ben's response, surprisingly, isn't anger. It's shock, and then it's resigned. Hopefully you can feel that her words hurt him. And the way that he responds, whether you expect it or not, could tug at your heartstrings, even knowing what a bastard he's been up until that point. (Angsty angst.)

“But I guess I did bring it on myself. I knew what you were the second I met you,” you said coldly. “In fact, the only thing I really wanted from you was what you could do for my career.”

That blow landed as well. You felt his shock, deep inside.

“Is that so?” he said, less angry then. More resigned. “It was all an act, huh?”

New tears burned in your eyes. They slid down your cheeks, one by one.

“Yeah, it was,” you said. “I fucking hope I never have to see your face again.”

That's an example of how I tried to build up to that moment where their relationship seems unsalvageable. Their "darkest hour," if you will.

2. Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader)

There's a lot of angst throughout this series, but one key moment in particular is in Part 9.

At this point, the "enemies to lovers" aspect of their relationship has really started to take shape. They've been finding some common ground, besides..."exploring" their mutual attraction. 😅 But after he saves her using V24, he does so against her will, and in the process, he re-captures her, again, against her will.

She calls him out on this. Ben is frustrated because he just saved her life! He both can and can't understand why she's so incredibly mad at him:

He stared back at you, his expression tightening. “I saved you.”

“And you kidnapped me. Again!” you shouted.

“You were hurt, and I saved your fucking life! Again,” Ben countered, gesturing at you with his blood-stained hand. But you glared at him.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you snapped.

At that, Ben glared right back at you…but he stayed quiet.

Good. You huffed and turned away from him. You folded your knees up to your chest and rested your forehead against your knees.

You had nothing else to say to him.

That's the long way of saying that in my experience, writing angst with any character, especially Soldier Boy, can largely depend on:

Their personality, strengths and weaknesses.

How they'll respond and act given a situation.

How that can create conflict with another character.

Hope that helps, and thanks for the question! 💚

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toasty130 · 9 months ago

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Day 18-Headcannon

I have too many that I could draw out so here we are.

-Laurance Zvhal-

• 5 '9

• 24 at the start of Mcd

• heterochromia(After blindness is cured)

• Needs glasses, doesn't wear them

• his love language is physical touch

• Has a slight curl in his hair, which get's more curly when his hair is longer

• Agile and built more for speed

• Great cook

• knows how to braid hair

• Surprisingly easy to make flustered

• Has nightmares

• Bisexual

• Has some sharper features. Such as a sharper nose shape

• (Basically cannon but) hopeless romantic

• clingy

• knows hows to dance

• Loves to tick people off, specifically people who hate him

• Flirts intentionally with everyone, especially friends

• Has one scar on his face, that's on his left cheek.

• The rest of his scars are spread out across his body, even though I'd like to imagine there is one on his neck as well

• Sings when bored

• Fangs(Gets them from the Mefiwa curse)

-Garroth Ro'meave-

• 6 '0

• 24 at the start of Mcd

• When he ran away, he died his hair a browner tone and by the time of the events of Mcd the brown is fading out

• Freckles

• Has three scars on his face.

• Sort of has a mullet it sticks out of his helmet

• speaking of Helmet, he has helmet hair most of the time

• built like a tank

• Artist

• His pride gets in the way of his thinking quite a-lot

• Gay

• Has a more square facial structure.

• Guilt haunts him

• Deeper voice

• Temper issue

• Knows how to play the guitar

• Absolute hot mess

• Terrified to grow facial hair

• Gets shocked on how other people grew up, a-lot

• Knew Lucinda before everyone else met her

• Cats are his favorite animals

• Malik( Levin's father) is his Uncle

-Dante Ashida-

• Takes Nana's last name when he marries her

• Tanner skin

• Brown eyes

• 19 at the start of Mcd

• 34 by season 2

• 4 '11 In season 1, not for long though because he gets a growth spurt and is 6 '0 in season 2

• Shy

• Love language is words of affirmation

• Incredibly well balanced and agile

• Has a difficult time speaking about his feelings

• Dante's fascial shape is softer

• Pansexual

• likes to crotchet

• favorite animal are bunnies

• He gets nostalgia over everything

• keeps a journal

• supersingly charming

• makes bracelets for friends

• Likes to try on bows with Nana

• Panics if he loses his wedding ring

• Long eyelashes

-Katelyn Ognista-

• 6'2

• 25 at the start of Mcd

• Well mannered unless angered

• Dusty blue eyes

• Olive skin tone

• Athletic body type

• straight hair type

• Katelyn's anger is explosive. She tries to keep it down but it only makes it worse

• She likes flowers

• Her grandma was one the only female influences in her life

• Can play the flute

• She gets nauseous easily

• Starts MCD with short hair

• heart facial structure

• Has a resting B face

• Not certain on her future

• Misses her family

• Hates the ocean

• Favorite animal is lizards

• covered in scars

• her love language is acts of service

-Aphmau/Aphra-

• First and foremost, her name is Aphra in my retelling(I don't know if my writing of Mcd is a rewrite or not so eh)of Mcd

• 5 '0

• 21 at the start of Mcd

• Curly hair

• builder

• carries a pickaxe around

• Talks to herself

• Has a poor sense of personal space

• Chubby

• Stubborn

• Has the Dairies rebirth marks

• Likes to make flower crowns

• Feels required to take care of everyone

• Loves peonies

• Animals tend to flock around her

• Find tiny things adorable

• Tries to see the good in people but over eventually she doesn't....

• Her favorite shade of purple is this dusty dark purple. she finds it calming

• Curious on romance but finds she has too many complications in her life to explore it

• likes cat buts loves her wolves

• Has a hard time sleeping, like there's something waiting for her there....

I'm only going to do those 5. A-lot of things are stuff of my writing/ Rewrite of Mcd. Which has many OCs and is even told through an Oc. If any one who read this post wants to read my Rewrite of Mcd, I might post it on Tumblr. Have a nice day everyday!

#minecraft dairies #aphverse #aphtober #laurance zvhal #garroth ro'meave #aphtober 2024 #aphblr #katelyn the fire fist #aphmau shalashaska

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dragonflight203 · 1 year ago

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Mass Effect 3, Omega DLC:

-This DLC is fairly meh for me. It has many interesting concepts, but it primarily plays out as a long extended corridor shooter. That gets old fast.

That’s disappointing as Omega in ME2 adds a lot of flavor and lore to the Mass Effect universe. I would have loved to have seen more of that in the DLC.

Instead, you mostly just shoot your way through environments that are slightly different than the main game. There’s barely any additional world building.

-The excuse to have Shepard leave their squad mates behind is weak.

Aria has objections to them? Really? Aria, the queen of Omega has objections to what – a couple of Alliance soldiers, a turian ex-vigilante, an AI, the Shadow Broker (everyone else knows, I’m sure Aria does), and possibly a quarian Admiral?

Given the forces she’s up against, she should be insisting that they all tag along.

-I think one of the reasons Aria insisted Shepard come with her was for the psychological factor. It’d be a huge boost to the morale of the Omega people to know that Shepard had come to free them.

However, it’s hard to say for sure because after showing off Shepard to Petrovsky that angle is dropped. You’d think Aria would make a bigger deal of mentioning Shepard, say, in her speech to the Omega people about half way through the game.

-I do love how Aria is dead set on taking the station back or die trying. Her initial plan was to crash into it!

-Look, the upgraded defenses suck now but you’ll appreciate them once they’re yours.

-Why does Batarian State Arms have a shop on Omega? Given it’s a lawless station in the Terminus Systems, seems an odd location for a branch.

-Shepard asking about the rendezvous point and Aria answering is one of the most difficult parts of the DLC to swallow. Both are incredibly stupid. They must have known it was possible they were under surveillance.

If Aria had just kept quiet, a good chunk of the fighting could have been avoided.

-The game just throws medi-gel at you during this entire DLC. I gained multiple levels, and I credit at least one or two of those to the medi-gel alone.

-And here we see Cerberus’ human supremacist beliefs in full color. Nonhumans must be supervised, armed nonhumans will be shot on sight… Lovely.

The game keeps insisting Petrovsky has a code and is honorable, but I’m not seeing too many redeeming factors.

-Ugh. I’m not a fan of the female turian design. Why are their eyes shaped differently? Why is there skin around their eyes? Why doesn’t their crest cover their head? The crest serves a functional purpose on turians. It protects them them from the sun. It should be the same on males and females. The eyes are sunk into the crest to protect them.

For my sanity I assume this is a result of turians being dispersed across colony worlds for so long and crests can vary greatly across males and females.

As for the eyes… Ugh.

I suppose I should be grateful that the Bioware didn’t give them breasts. Bare minimum.

-That said, I do love Nyreen herself. She’s a fantastic character and it’s a shame she does not survive the DLC.

-Aria and Nyreen must have been very, very close for Aria to show her so many of her secrets.

Perhaps since Nyreen “oozes virtue” Aria felt she could be trusted with them.

-And Nyreen stayed behind even after they broke up, and managed to slip under Aria’s radar. Very impressive.

-I love the injured Talons. They remind me a lot of cats with the way they curl in on themselves.

For giant clawed birds they’re surprisingly cute.

-What’s up with the face paint on so many of the turian Talons?

Turian face paint is supposed to colony markings. However, many have paint that looks similar to the Talons symbol.

I suppose it’s possible that some take on gang markings to symbolize that they’ve abandoned loyalty to their world and belong to their gang now.

Very odd thing for Nyreen to do, however. And you’d think if her paint had changed that Aria would remark on it.

-The Talons include humans as well. Good. Hopefully in the future Omega will remember that not all humans were with Cerberus.

-I quite like the gun salute Talons do to Nyreen. Is that the only time the game features it?

-Aria’s midgame speech is okay. Not great, not awful.

Kirrahe’s hold the line speech was better.

-Aria’s a cynic, but she seems to want to believe in a better world. Why else would she have grown so close to Nyreen?

And while she bitches, she listens to a paragon Shepard.

-Nyreen says that when her biotics manifested she was practically locked away.

I’d love to know more about turian biotics. The game mentions that they’re isolated from other turians; I bet they have a very interesting subculture.

Such subcultures are often insular. How well do late developing biotics integrate into it? Is that one of the reasons Nyreen became so frustrated?

-Aria says the war will start when the force field comes down. Nyreen says the war started months ago.

Well, that’s probably the closes ME3 will ever come to giving us a time frame. The war takes at least a few months.

-Aria’s willing to sacrifice multiple wards to bring the force fields down. Not surprising, but disappointing.

Petrovsky attempts to use this to persuade me that Aria shouldn’t be in charge, but given the whole “human supremacy” agenda he has he can go fuck himself.

At least Aria’s equally shitty to everyone.

-I hate disabling the bombs. Easily the hardest part of the DLC.

And given my game crashed on the first attempt, it apparently agrees.

-Aaand we learn that Cerberus has been converting people into adjutants with control implants so they can create an army of them. Because of course they have. Cerberus loves trying to control monsters.

Petrovsky has a code, my ass.

-And what is with adjutants being able to convert any being into another adjutant via a virus?

The game just glosses over this, but that sounds very important.

It’s definitely Reaper adjacent, at least. It reminds me of the virus the Collectors spread on Omega.

-There’s a turian labeled as a “civilian” in full armor.

Did the team that created the Omega DLC just not have access to the casual wear assets for turians?

-The mad prophet is a nice call back.

I’d have loved to have seen the Patriarch, too. He should have been leading his own resistance cell.

-Nyreen dying is a damn shame. Excellently done, but I’d have preferred if she lived. She provided a nice balance to Aria.

-In the final battle, the Afterlife doors opened at some point. I charged through them to kill the enemy and the doors closed behind me. Couldn’t reopen them.

Bizarre bug I’ve never heard of before.

Game didn’t even crash. I had to reload my last save.

-If Petrovsky weren’t such a smug bastard, I’d let him live.

As it is, bastard’s dead.

You shouldn’t experiment on people.

-Aria’s ending speech is much better than the mid game speech.

Especially the last line – “We are Omega”.

Very good contrast to her ME2 line “I am Omega”.

#mass effect #mass effect 3 #mass effect 3 replay

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