#i also have some ideas for how i can reveal bits of the plot in fun ways so i wanna get to doing that too

[wildflowercryptid]

getting emotional over the lore i've built up for my fancase AGAIN.

[physalian]

Pacing your Story (Or, How to Avoid the "Suddenly...!")

Arguably *the* most important lesson all writers need to learn, even for those who don’t give a damn about themes and motifs and a moral soap box: How your story is paced, whether it’s a comic book, a children’s chapter book, a doorstopper, a mini series, a movie, or a full-length season of TV (old school style), pacing is everything.

Pacing determines how long the story *feels* regardless of how long it actually is. It can make a 2 hour movie feel like 90 mins or double the time you’re trapped in your seat.

There’s very little I can say about pacing that hasn’t been said before, but I’m here to condense all that’s out there into a less intimidating mouthful to chew.

So: What is pacing?

Pacing is how a story flows, how quickly or slowly the creator moves through and between scenes, how long they spend on setting, narration, conversation, arguments, internal monologues, fight scenes, journey scenes. It’s also how smoothly tone transitions throughout the story. A fantasy adventure jumping around sporadically between meandering boredom, high-octane combat, humor, grief, and romance is exhausting to read, no matter how much effort you put into your characters.

Anyone who says the following is wrong:

Good pacing is always fast/bad pacing is always slow

Pacing means you are 100% consistent throughout the entire story

It doesn’t matter as much so long as you have a compelling story/characters/lore/etc

Now let me explain why in conveniently numbered points:

1. Pacing is not about consistency, it’s about giving the right amount of time to the right pieces of your story

This is not intuitive and it takes a long time to learn. So let’s look at some examples:

Lord of the Rings: The movies trimmed a *lot* from the books that just weren’t adaptable to screen, namely all the tedious details and quite a bit of the worldbuilding that wasn’t critical to the journey of the Fellowship. That said, with some exceptions, the battles are as long as they need to be, along with every monologue, every battle speech. When Helm’s Deep is raging on, we cut away to Merry and Pippin with the Ents to let ourselves breathe, then dive right back in just before it gets boring.

The Hobbit Trilogy: The exact opposite from LotR, stretching one kids book into 3 massive films, stuffing it full of filler, meandering side quests, pointless exposition, drawing out battles and conflicts to silly extremes, then rushing through the actual desolation of Smaug for… some reason.

Die Hard (cause it’s the Holidays y’all!): The actiony-est of action movies with lots of fisticuffs and guns and explosions still leaves time for our hero to breathe, lick his wounds, and build a relationship with the cop on the ground. We constantly cut between the hero and the villains, all sharing the same radio frequency, constantly antsy about what they know and when they’ll find out the rest, and when they’ll discover the hero’s kryptonite.

2. Make every scene you write do at least two things at once

This is also tricky. Making every scene pull double duty should be left to after you’ve written the first draft, otherwise you’ll never write that first draft. Pulling double duty means that if you’re giving exposition, the scene should also reveal something about the character saying it. If you absolutely must write the boring trip from A to B, give some foreshadowing, some thoughtful insight from one of your characters, a little anecdote along the way.

Develop at least two of the following:

The plot

The backstory

The romance/friendships

The lore

The exposition

The setting

The goals of the cast

Doing this extremely well means your readers won’t have any idea you’re doing it until they go back and read it again. If you have two characters sitting and talking exposition at a table, and then those same two characters doing some important task with filler dialogue to break up the narrative… try combining those two scenes and see what happens.

**This is going to be incredibly difficult if you struggle with making your stories longer. I do not. I constantly need to compress my stories. **

3. Not every scene needs to be crucial to the plot, but every scene must say something

I distinguish plot from story like a square vs a rectangle. Plot is just a piece of the tale you want to tell, and some scenes exist just to be funny, or romantic, or mysterious, plot be damned.

What if you’re writing a character study with very little plot? How do you make sure your story isn’t too slow if 60% of the narrative is introspection?

Avoid repeating information the audience already has, unless a reminder is crucial to understanding the scene

This isn’t 1860 anymore. Every detail must serve a purpose. Keep character and setting descriptions down to absolute need-to-know and spread it out like icing on a cake – enough to coat, but not give you a mouthful of whipped sugar and zero cake.

Avoid describing generic daily routines, unless the existence of said routine is out of ordinary for the character, or will be rudely interrupted by chaos. No one cares about them brushing their teeth and doing their hair.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much. E.g. two characters sitting and talking – do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them gesture, wave, frown, laugh, cross their legs, their arms, shift around to get comfortable, pound the table, roll their eyes, point, shrug, touch their face, their hair, wring their hands, pick at their nails, yawn, stretch, pout, sneer, smirk, click their tongue, clear their throat, sniff/sniffle, tap their fingers/drum, bounce their feet, doodle, fiddle with buttons or jewelry, scratch an itch, touch their weapons/gadgets/phones, check the time, get up and sit back down, move from chair to table top – the list goes on. Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t – what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

4. Your entire work should not be paced exactly the same

Just like a paragraph should not be filled with sentences of all the same length and syntax. Some beats deserve more or less time than others. Unfortunately, this is unique to every single story and there is no one size fits all.

General guidelines are as follows:

Action scenes should have short paragraphs and lots of movement. Cut all setting details and descriptors, internal monologues, and the like, unless they service the scene.

Journey/travel scenes must pull double or even triple duty. There’s a reason very few movies are marketed as “single take” and those that are don’t waste time on stuff that doesn’t matter. See 1917.

Romantic scenes are entirely up to you. Make it a thousand words, make it ten thousand, but you must advance either the romantic tension, actual movement of the characters, conversation, or intimacy of the relationship.

Don’t let your conversations run wild. If they start to veer off course, stop, boil it down to its essentials, and cut the rest.

When transitioning between slow to faster pacing and back again, it’s also not one size fits all. Maybe it being jarring is the point – it’s as sudden for the characters as it is for the reader. With that said, try to keep the “suddenly”s to a minimum.

5. Pacing and tone go hand in hand

This means that, generally speaking, the tone of your scene changes with the speed of the narrative. As stated above, a jarring tonal shift usually brings with it a jarring pacing shift.

A character might get in a car crash while speeding away from an abusive relationship. A character who thinks they’re safe from a pursuer might be rudely and terrifyingly proven wrong. An exhausting chase might finally relent when sanctuary is found. A quiet dinner might quickly turn romantic with a look, or confession. Someone casually cleaning up might discover evidence of a lie, a theft, an intruder and begin to panic.

--

Whatever the case may be, a narrative that is all action all the time suffers from lack of meaningful character moments. A narrative that meanders through the character drama often forgets there is a plot they’re supposed to be following.

[riacte]

Unconventional format / mixed media / meta / epistolary fic ideas:

Script format but the characters slowly break fourth wall until they grow self aware and scream to leave but the script confines them.

Mock up notes of an author's fic outline only for a "fan favourite" / "author's darling" character to gain sentience and influence the story. The character changes the outline to suit their own agenda, and their changes are marked with a different colour whereas black text means it's the author's will. Maybe another character using another colour gains sentience. The different colours fight for dominance. Mom says it's my turn with the keyboard hey what the fuck man excuse me I'm literally trying to save my family can you guys let go and let me write your character arcs in peace OH FUCK OFF

Recipe fic. The story is told via those unnecessarily long backstories on a recipe blog in which you learn about someone's grandma or a breakup or literally anything. Bonus points if the actual recipe deals with worldbuilding (what ingredients are available? What utensils are used? How to serve this meal? Woohoo Dungeon Meshi) or in-cheek recipes (eg. "Recipe for making up with your estranged mother - Step 1: Mix patience, nostalgia, and filial piety and let it marinate for ten years. Step 2: Throw that shit into the trash because you're better than that")

Travel fic. A character is lost and trying to find their way somewhere. GPS directions, googling "x place to x place", tickets and dates, train station maps, leaflets. It gets weirder and weirder. You never get closer to your destination. You're walking around in circles. It's always 10 meters away. Where are you going and where have you been?

Receipts. Try to infer what a character is doing judging from the weird things they buy together. Also yipppee inflation tracker. On the other side, maybe it can be about a cashier/ shop owner getting to know their customers and what they order.

Written from the pov of an non-native English speaker, all the English words are italicized whereas their native tongue are the only words not italicized. Inspired by Kupu rere kē by Alice Te Punga Somerville. This is because I got salty about people from Ao3 Reddit saying they won't read a fic in all italics.

Murder mystery / "Among Us" style impersonation fic strictly using the chatfic format. Characters and readers will have to figure out which character has been killed and replaced from the way they text and use emojis. This is also because I got salty about Ao3 Reddit being a wee bit pretentious about emoji usage in fics. Maybe emojis can be important plot devices! Some people prefer to sign off messages with a heart emoji of their signature colour, so won't it be weird if they use another coloured heart? How about someone using lapslock suddenly using proper capitalisation and full stops? Can you tell if someone's phone has been stolen? What if someone's mother is pretending to text like their child? Why is someone suddenly only using UwU speak? Is it a bit, or have they been replaced?

Innocuous second person POV until the last line where it's suddenly revealed to be first person POV all along and the "I" has been stalking and narrating "you".

Other fun bits / Easter eggs / secrets to hide:

Decoding within the text itself. Maybe we get given instructions to find a word in x chapter on page y on the nth line. And when we as readers collect all the words, they form a sentence that spells out an important fact which the characters are oblivious to. Or maybe the in-universe characters find a book with the same title as the irl fic with a bookmark in it, and if you go to where the bookmark is stuck irl, you'll find the murderer plainly stated. The rest of the fic is about the readers having hard confirmation of who the murderer is while characters don't know.

A phrase is subtly repeated throughout the text of the fic and is spelled out with the letter that begins a sentence. It gives off the effect that the narrator is screaming and crying into the void (to the readers in the fourth wall) while trying to avoid detection. Bonus points if the same word is repeated for pages and pages to the point the lack of sentence variation feels weird and clunky.

Morse code!! I love morse code! Using onomatopoeia to convey the dots and dashes! The sound of rain pattering on the tin rooftop— drop, drop, drop. A low whistle of a train rumbling in the distance. He slowly sharpens his knife, creating a shiiing sound. A lengthy, high pitched squeal from his kettle. A dog barks. A sharp knock. His heart thumps. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. SOS. Maybe a character's death scene spells out the name of their mysterious murderer. Maybe a character is reminiscing their deceased loved one and the scene spells out what the deceased person would've wanted to tell them— "LIVE ON" or "I LOVE YOU" or something.

[stayteezdreams]

Mine

Plot: When you decide to show your friend San the costume you aren't so sure about, you get a lot more than you were expecting.

Prompt: "Stop staring at me like that." "If you didn't want me to stare, you shouldn't have worn that."

Pairing: Best Friend!Choi San x Gn!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Warnings: A bit suggestive throughout. I tried my best not to be too descriptive about body type or gender but it might not be perfectly gender neutral, I apologize. Slight mentions of self-esteem issues, or body-image issues, reference to low confidence.

A/N: Don't go into this expecting too much lol, you have been warned.

Words: ~1.8k

Most years when it came to Halloween, you played it relatively safe. Choosing a famous character that matched your vibe. But you got bored of it, plus you were running out of characters you could pass for.

After some convincing, one of your friends persuaded you to dress up as a character from a show you both watched. They were also going to be a character from said show, so you wouldn't be alone.

The only problem was the costume of said characters was somewhat....revealing. Parts of the costume were cut to expose random areas of your body, and though none were too risqué, the costume itself hugged your figure in a way that left nothing to imagination.

You were uncertain if it suited you, or if you would be comfortable overall. The friend who suggested was no help in making you feel better, as they had already gotten excited about you being said character.

You had tried the costume on a few times, and every time you remained uncertain if it suited you. Was it the color? The overall vibe? Did it just not suit your body type?

When the topic of costumes came up with another one of your best-friends, San, you mentioned to him you weren't feeling too confident about the costume your friend gave you.

"I mean, I like it, but...it's not like anything I've worn before. I don't know if it suits me really."

Glancing at San who nodded along, understanding, but not fully knowing your predicament. He smiled softly, "Can I see it on you? Maybe I can help you decide?"

You perked up a bit at this, though you were a bit bashful about it too. "Would that be okay?"

He nodded with a bright smile before you hummed.

"Okay!" You rose before looking back at him, "It'll take a bit for me to put it on."

He chuckled and nodded, "No rush."

It seemed like a good idea at first, San was always helpful and always honest with you. But as you put the costume on you remembered just how it looked on you and you began to regret asking him to look at it.

San had never seen you in anything really revealing or figure hugging, not that he would care, he was one of your closest friends. But he was also the guy you had a crush on for ages. And even if he didn't care what you looked like in the costume, you began feeling timid.

Would he think you looked bad? You felt your chest clench a bit at this thought. That would definitely not help your confidence. You weren't sure if you wanted this now.

"Is everything okay?" You heard San's voice come from outside the door.

You let out a soft sigh. "Yeah! One second!"

You had finished putting the costume on but felt apprehensive about showing San. Taking a deep breath, deciding it would be too weird for you to suddenly change your mind, you walked out of the bathroom.

San was looking down at his phone and waiting for you patiently at the edge of your bed. Hearing you come out, his eyes shot up to see you, but what he saw was nothing like what he was expecting.

His heart seemed to stop all together as his breath caught in his throat. He was sure he looked stunned as he stared at you, unable to look away.

San always thought you looked great, no matter what you wore, but seeing you like this was more than he ever expected or could wish for.

The costume accentuated every part of you he often caught himself staring at. Various patches of your skin were exposed, and San felt his ears burning hot at the sight.

It took you a moment to gain the confidence to look at San's reaction. When you did you weren't expected to see him slack-jawed and stunned.

Was it a good thing? A bad thing? Was the costume too much?

When his eyes started raking over your body slowly, you felt a shiver run up your spine as you felt almost naked. You felt shy under his gaze, the look on his face something you had never seen.

You let out a nervous chuckle, "San, stop staring at me like that."

San's eyes finally rose to your face, and he saw the way his stare made you react. You were nervous and shy under his gaze.

'Cute.'

"If you didn't want me to stare, you shouldn't have worn that."

"Wh- but- I" You looked down at yourself. "You told me to try it on! To help me decide if I should wear it"

"Don't."

Your eyes shot back to him, only to see him staring at your body again. "What?"

"Don't wear it."

You looked back down at yourself, your chest tightening a bit. Was it really that bad? Or maybe he was feeling protective?

"Does it look that bad?"

Through San's struggle to keep his composure, the tone of your voice caught him off guard. Paying attention to your gaze as you turned and looked in the mirror, he realized his mistake. He was making you insecure.

He stood up, "That's not what I meant."

You looked back at him, "Then it just doesn't suit me?"

San let out a shaky breath as he desperately raked his eyes over you again before swallowing harshly. As you shuffled on your feet anxiously, he clenched his eyes shut.

"That's also not what I mean."

"Then why shouldn't I wear it?"

He opened his eyes again and took a step closer to you. Your hands absentmindedly rose to your chest out of nerves and he wondered if you were feeling as....tense as he was.

You noticed his almost darkened gaze as he stared at you again. You swallowed nervously as he stepped closer.

"It suits you....too well."

"Too well?"

He nodded and you noticed the way he swallowed before he licked his lips and spoke again. "You look great. Amazing even, and I... don't want others to see you like this."

Another step forward and he was mere inches from you. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him as his eyes cast down to your body again. Your breath caught in your throat. What exactly did he mean? What was he thinking?

"I-" slowly, he lifted his arm, as his hand hovered above the exposed skin of your shoulder. "I want to be the only one to see you like this. I want to keep it to myself."

His voice was low, almost raspy, a shiver coursed through you as you heard it. Slowly his eyes lifted and locked with yours. The look in his gaze was almost dangerous, and it took your breath away.

"Why?"

"I don't want anyone to try and steal you from me. I want you to be mine."

You swallowed nervously; San didn't fail to notice it. He took another step closer, until your chests were almost touching. His face was close to yours and you nervously met his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I want you to understand why I'm saying these things."

You almost jolted as you felt San's hand suddenly grab your waist, his hands touching your bare skin were the costume revealed it. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you against him.

His eyes stared deeply into yours as he inched closer.

"San?" Your voice was a whisper, barely heard.

"I've always wanted to keep you all to myself, but I thought it was too selfish. But this. Letting other's see you looking like this, seeing parts of you only I should see. I can't stand it. So, let me be selfish this time. Please."

Your breath wavered as San inched closer, his lips almost grazing yours as his eyes held a desperation you couldn't miss.

"Please?" He repeated, his voice soft, barely heard.

Your mind was fuzzy as your stomach swirled, warmth encasing you. You were unable to speak, so you just nodded your head.

Before you could even process your action, San's lips were against yours. His arm wrapped around you in a desperate attempt to bring you closer. One hand now held the back of your head, the kiss was deep, passionate.

As his tongue met your lips, asking for entrance, you obliged, almost gasping at his actions as he pressed you up against the wall as the kiss became almost sloppy. His fingers intertwined with your hair as his body pressed against yours.

San, managing to get some form of grip on himself, pulled away, his breathing heavy as he rested his forehead against yours. Opening his eyes he looked at your breathless figure. Slowly you opened your own eyes, as your gazes locked.

Bringing his hand to your face he gently caressed your cheek. "I'm sorry. I just- lost control a bit." He gently caressed your lightly swollen lips with his thumb. "It's been so hard repressing my feelings for you. I've always wanted you so badly, and today, seeing you..." He let out a soft chuckle, "I just couldn't hold it in any longer."

You smiled softly, "How long exactly? Have you felt like this."

"A few years, at least."

Your heart was racing as your chest clenched. All this time, you felt the same way, both of you unknowingly repressing shared feelings. Hurting yourselves and each other by never making it known.

"Then I'm sorry too." You said softly and he frowned, "Because I've been hiding it for just as long."

San stared at you for a second before a smile slowly spread across his face as he let out a soft chuckle.

"I guess we have a lot to make up for."

You nodded softly with a smile and San peered down at your figure again. He hissed as he let out a staggered breath, biting his lip. Your ears burned as he stared, your heart racing.

Bringing his hand down, he gently trailed his hand down your stomach before he hooked his finger under the cloth where it exposed your side.

Meeting your eyes again he spoke with an almost hungry tone. "Are you going to wear this?"

You bit back a grin, "I suppose I can find something else."

He smiled and tilted his head as he leaned in closer to you again, his lips hovered over yours. "Good."

You wish you had taken a breath before he kissed you again. You could tell from the way his hands hungrily gripped you as he pushed you against the wall again, his lips never breaking contact, that this was going to last a while.

xx End xx

A/N: I have written some fluff, some humor and a little spooky. So I thought I would write something a bit suggestive to throw in as well lol. Hope you liked it!

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[cy-cyborg]

It's been confirmed that there are 3 amputees in the main cast of Dragon Age: the veilguard - Neve (leg amputee), Bellara (arm amputee) and your inquisitor (arm amputee). So as an amputee myself, here are some things I'd like to see.

Note: these aren't predictions, just things I'd really like to be included.

The inquisitor doesn't use a prosthetic (I already talked about this in its own post but with 3 amputees, and 2 of them already being shown to use prosthetics that, lets be honest, do look like "perfect replacement" prosthetics, it would be nice to see at least one who doesn't)

We will get to customise our inquisitor in chatacter creation, so I would love, if they do use a prosthetic, for there to be some customisability to it (im not holding my breath there but still).

Neve and Bellara's prosthetics aren't perfect prosthetics, and they are actually acknowledged as being disabled while still being active members of your party.

There's some kind of party banter between Neve and Bellara about some of the downsides/problems with their prosthetics, not necessarily in a "poor them" way, but in a "ugh, don't you just hate it when you can't get the stupid thing on in the morning" kind of way.

I get a kind of jokey/adventurous vibe from Bellara, I hope they aren't affraid to let her use her prosthetic for pranks or jokes. I don't think neve would, but I can see bellara having a blast with it.

I hope the prosthetics come off during down time. No amputee wears their prosthetics 24/7, it's uncomfortable, and they get heavy and sore after using them all day.

I hope we see Neve express some frustration or see her alter her walk animation on rough terrain. It's hard to get a clear look because the trailers she's been shown in are so dark, but her foot doesn't look articulated, which is going to change how she walks, even just a little bit.

I hope the prosthetics don't break - this is a trope I'm starting to notice more and more, where someone has a perfect prosthetic that is only not a perfect replacement when it breaks, usually for plot reasons, at which point the character in question is forced out of the action until its fixed. DA has forced companions out of your party for story reasons before (e.g. solas after you free his spirit friend and he needs to cool off) so I can see this being used for plot, and I really hope it's not.

The inquisitor, Neve and Bellara compair prosthetists (the maker of the prosthetic) and maker techniques.

I really doubt they'll do this but I'd love it if random NPC's approach you if you have any of the amputees in your party to ask what happened and/or make weird comments at them ("but cy, that would be so annoying and inconvenient!" That's the point. So many people do that to irl amputees, and it's never at a convenient or even safe time, and I've never seen it happen in media. A game is arguably the best place to have it happen, in, say, a random event similar to the ones that could happen in origins)

In that same vein, I'd love to see a scene where someone approaches the inquisitor to call them an inspiration- you and the inquisitor assume it's for, you know, beating corripheus (I know I spelled it wrong lol) and saving the world, but it's revealed the chatacter has no idea who the hell the inquisitor is and just means it's inspiring that they're out in public "like that" - referring to their arm. This also happens to me all the time, and you can't tell me some snooty orlesean or tevinter noble wouldn't make those back-handed compliments, lol. You also can't convince me that any version of the inquisitor would just accept that

I hope none of the chatacters are used as inspiration porn ("don't you worry Rook! I can still pull my own weight on the team despite being an amputee, you just have to give me a chance to prove myself!")

At least one of the chatacter's stories of how they lost their limb is left untold in game (we don't always need to know how it happened if it's not relevent to the plot).

Like I said, these aren't predictions, just my hopes. I wouldn't hold my breath for any of these to be honest (bioware has not been the best in term of disability rep in the past) but A lot of them wouldn't be hard to implement and could take the representation from hardly even acknowledging their disability to something actually pretty decent disability rep-wise. It's also pretty rare to have so many characters with the same kind of disability in the cast of such a mainstream piece of media, and I really, really hope they do something with that because you can have a lot of fun with that.

[rottenherbs]

Matchmaker // F.W x reader

Request: it would be an honor to have a Fred Weasley x Reader wherein the reader is a matchmaker and students would often ask her for their suitable partners. But the irony is, since she's a matchmaker she can't seem to find hers (if that makes any sense), later on Fred would suddenly pop in in her life (I honestly don't know if this plot is sensible but yeah, the scene entirely up to you to alter and modify to your likings).

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: CANONICALLY I understand that Neville asked Ginny to the Yule ball but I am re-rewriting history. And I am half sorry and half not. Also I swear i write my imagines like they are the first chapters to full fledge fan fictions.

If you want to request a second part (or more) to ANY piece of writing please do! I’d love to continue any of my pieces <3

[masterlist] ((PART TWO IN MASTERLIST)

Much Love, Saige 

——————————

“I hope it works out for you.” You smile, ushering the young student off. “But if not, I'm not liable!” You mumbled lightly under your breath. They turned around for a moment, unsure if they heard you correctly; giving you a look of disbelief before quickly turning out of sight. 

You relaxed your shoulders, letting your smile fall as soon as they left, closing your eyes for a moment before straightening your posture, ready to do it all again. 

”Next please!” You adjusted the papers in front of you awkwardly as the next student walked in. A small brown haired boy, shuffling in short choppy steps, quickly making their way to your makeshift desk. They couldn't have been more than fourteen, visibly gangly under their uniform with charmingly large teeth hidden slightly by their pursed lips. 

“Ahh Welcome welcome. What can I do for you?” You leaned forward, your elbows now resting on the desk watching them plop themselves in front of you. The young boys hands immediately covered his face, pausing before speaking. 

“I don't know who to ask to the ball. ” He choked, his words muffled heavily by his hands. You cocked your head to the side, listening further. The Yule ball was a hot topic for most of the students right now, the idea of asking their peers to a dance gave most body chilling anxiety. This boy was no exception. 

But you didn’t respond, allowing him to continue at his own pace. 

“I think everyone thinks I'm a little weird. I act weird, I look a little weird.” He continued, his words only above a whisper. “I think it's a lost cause going to the dance.” He peered through his fingers at you, his face visibly red. 

“Neville is it?” You asked, sorting through some of the papers in front of you. He looked up at you in shock, unaware how you knew of him. 

“Yeah how did you-“

”You should give yourself more credit. From what I hear you have a lot of courage for a wizard your age.” You riffled through the papers some more, finding the roster of witches and wizards in the fourth year with him. You looked up momentarily to smile at him, noticing his posture shift in the chair, his hands now placed politely in his lap. 

“I swear if Lupin had me do a boggart, it might as well of been Snape.” You chuckled, pulling a single paper out from the pile. You glanced at him again, a small grin growing on his face. “But that stays between you and me. Hmm?” You continued, raising your eyes slightly. Neville nodded his head quickly, becoming increasingly curious as to what you were about to reveal. 

“Now. I know a little bit about the students of your year. You are a few years behind me but close enough.” You waved your hand haphazardly, attempting to keep the conversation light.  

“Now you talked about being weird.” You set the paper face down in front of you, locking eyes with the boy. You wanted to give Neville a better sense of confidence in himself before matching him with one of his peers. “Weird is not bad. Weird is great. I’m pretty weird eh? I know everything about everyone in this school. I think that’s a little weird.” He laughed, listening intently. 

“Now, I think you just need to find those who matches your weird” You smirked, flipping the page over, revealing a small image of a blond haired girl, silver eyes, and an odd yet charming sense of style. Nevilles eyes practically bulged as he grabbed the paper, unable to find the words.

”Eh eh eh! I keep the paper. You, on the other hand, keep the knowledge. Try it out. Talk to her. Something tells me you two have something mystical brewing.” You wagged your eyebrows sliding the paper back. Neville nodded his head, jumping from his seat out of excitement. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” He reached out grabbing your hand, shaking it vigorously. You shook it back, feeling infected with the sudden burst of energy and confidence he now held. He turned and walked out of the empty classroom, head held high. His stride was a little less choppy and his hands a little less shaky. 

You smiled to yourself, feeling an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Collecting the papers strewn against the table, you hesitated over a few of them. Small cards with little tidbits of information scattered alongside images of students. Had their astrological signs, their hobbies, what their class records were. Everyone was intertwined in their own way and it fascinated you. Something that started as a fun joke between friends grew into something school wide. You watched students give their first attempts at love, bring relationships back from the dead, and matching unconfident teenagers with someone who understands them the most. It was your secret talent. 

Shoving your book bag over your shoulder, you shut the classroom door behind you, content with another day's work. Turning on your heel, you immediately bump into a large mass,  practically unmovable, knocking you to the floor. Catching yourself with your hands, your papers flew across the empty hallway. 

“Oh god.” You looked up, noticing the mess now surrounding you. It would take hours to re-sort and categorize all these students. More focused on the papers, you didn’t notice a hand slipping under your elbow, pulling you to your feet. A small yelp escaped your lips, fear flowing through your body. 

“Sorry! Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you — or make you drop all of your pictures. Wait, is that me?” The tall figure bent down, picking up a picture. Their back was towards you, only their gryffindor robes and fiery red hair noticeable. Quickly realizing who it could be, you gave yourself a 50% chance of guessing correctly.  

Turning to face you, Freds eyes were practically shut, a grin growing on his face from ear to ear, wrinkling his face playfully. He held up the small picture of himself next to his head. 

“ Quite a dashing image you chose.” He jokingly looked back and forth between the image of him and you, putting the pieces together,

”Oh! You’re the matchmaker! God George wouldn’t stop shutting up about you after he got Angelina to agree to go to the dance with him. Seriously, he is chuffed. They are inseparable.” He laughed, tossing the image back into the mess on the floor. “It’s actually quite disgusting really���. But hey, I'm a supportive brother.” He shrugged his shoulders, slightly kicking his feet on the stone ground. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his lack of aid to your clutter. Bending down and beginning to pick up the papers on the floor, you ignored his comments, more frustrated with the large task in front of you. 

“Oh god sorry. I got caught up.” He joined you on his knees, carefully picking up papers and pictures, cautiously making sure not to crease or ruin them further. You sighed, relaxing slightly at his help. 

“Thanks. It's alright, mistakes happen. Now my whole night will just be fixing this jumble. Seems that 1st year Slytherin are mixed with the 6th year Hufflepuffs.’ You sat back, picking up two different students, shaking your head. Fred chuckled, pausing to read every now and again about the students he gathered.

“How come you never sent someone to me eh? No one matches my type?” He asked flirtatiously, his eyes focused on the floor.  You halted your moments, looking at him in disbelief. 

“Oh please. Look at the hundreds of students in your own hands. You’re not the only one. How come you never came up and asked for yourself.” You snorted, crawling against the floor, getting closer to Fred. His eyes watched you carefully, thinking about it himself. Why hasn’t he? 

“You got me there. Guess I've been doing just fine on my own.” He shrugged, pursing his lips playfully. You laughed, sitting back down, your body tired already from cleaning. 

“So who has the matchmaker matched with herself? Must be some fancy bloke who checks off all the marks.” He mumbled, a tone of sarcasm almost hidden behind his words. Almost.

You leaned your back against the wall, slightly saddened by his question. Most people didn’t know that you were almost cursed with your own lack of a love life. You could speak of it in heartbroken poetic love stories; the girl who always looked out for everyone else but never had the time to look inward. Fiddling with your hands, your silence said it all for you. 

“If it's any consolation, I haven't had much luck either.” Fred spoke, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, setting the stack of papers down next to him. He sat crossed legged diagonal to you, his eyes now moving around the room, unable to stay still. You smiled lightly, feeling a small sense of relief. 

“Is it bad if that does make me feel better?” You scrunch your nose, exhaling lightly, holding back a laugh. Fred looks up, taken back by your words. He laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. 

“If my unlucky status as a lone stag makes you feel better, by all means.” He lifted his hands, gesturing vaguely at the mess. You both sat for a moment, laughing with each other. The conversation relaxes back to normalcy. 

Sighing lightly, you got to your knees, slowly making your way to your feet. Fred looked at you from the ground, wracking his brain on how you weren’t taken by anybody in this school. While he knew quite little about you, what he did know was that you were caring, kind, and thoughtful to those who came to you for help. Especially because you helped his brother earlier, he had a deep sense of gratitude for what you did. 

Collecting the papers, you slid them into your bag, turning to face Fred. He was still on the ground, his eyes fixated on your every movement. You cleared your throat awkwardly, extending your hand, silently asking for the papers near him. Freds eyes widened, realizing he was just sitting and staring at you. He quickly turned, handing you the papers with a small smile. Getting to his feet quickly,  he was now the one towering over you. 

“So..” He reached up, adjusting his tie, the quiet corridor filling with anticipation. ”Do you need any help with sorting those?” He pointed at your book bag, quickly shoving his hands into his front pockets. He felt bad for creating the mess and wanted to help further, but he also wanted to spend more time with you. “I happen to know a lot of my clientele. Maybe we can join forces.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. 

For a second, you hated the idea. It was something that was special to you, something that was almost embarrassingly secretive you didn’t dare share with anyone. Yet when you looked at him, you didn’t feel judgement. You only felt genuine curiosity and a sense of complementary energy.  Calibrating the pros and cons in your head, you reached a conclusion that you wanted to know more about him in any way possible. 

“Yeah. I’d love that.” You affirmed quietly. The smile grew on Fred's face, a mix of mischievousness and mystery. You didn’t know entirely if you could trust him, but something in your heart pulled towards him. He was invigorating, charming, and smart. Whether he would be a helpful tool in your business — only time would tell. 

Turning towards the hallway, Fred bowed slightly, his hands guiding you ahead. 

“Ladies first.” He joked, his smile unwavering. You laughed, accepting his invitation. As soon as you passed him, he joined you in the hallway, only the sounds of your feet lightly pattering against the floor. 

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (11/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, the angst, semi-public intimacy, cockwarming, description of someone being shot, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He got his girlfriend back.

Not quite in the way he had imagined, but the thought of him being her boyfriend and her taking it seriously made him feel a wave of confidence after years of doubt.

It had to do not so much with the fact that he had gained what he wanted, but rather with the idea that although his grandfather had accustomed him to the thought that there was a path for him only by his side, he now knew otherwise.

Criston Cole had been the first person to reveal to him how tense the situation was among their men, how furious they were that Otto had decided out of sheer spite to bet on Aegon, his pawn, putting too much power in his hands.

Aegon's orders and the fact that some of their bodyguards now had to listen to him made them turn to him, looking for another alternative.

He was their alternative and presented them with his plan.

Having known them for so many years, aware of what their strengths and weaknesses were, he assigned them tasks, spreading his net over the city, slowly tightening the noose around all the places that had ever belonged to Larys Strong.

He had promised his Rhaenys that he would never kill or harm anyone again, at least not in the way he had done so far, so he decided to rely on his wits and logic. He offered the old owners to help pay their debts and cooperate with them in exchange for them giving up the clubs without a fight.

Those who did not agree experienced a loud gunfight and a bit of fear: he paid the police in advance to stay out of it, so no police car came to the addresses indicated even when someone called the police station.

His grandfather was furious and that pleased him most of all.

By focusing on the fight with Daemon he had completely let go of the subject of Larys' legacy and had paid the price. He also felt pride, because in a way he had regained what belonged to the father of the woman he loved, so it was also a tribute to her.

She only allowed him to see her once a week, but they wrote to each other constantly: he out of sheer longing, she to make sure he was still alive.

Sitting on the couch in Heavenly Beach, despite his employees sitting around him, partying with the girls who were apparently most attracted to gangsters, he sat with his head in his phone, writing a message to her, feeling like a teenager in high school.

He grinned involuntarily as he read her reply, feeling the thrill as he did every time she teased him.

She was trying to keep him at a distance and push him away, he knew that.

He swallowed hard when, a moment later, his phone vibrated and his eyes were presented with a photograph of her lying on her stomach, on her body only her panties and top, from under which a little fragment of her breast was peeking out, pressed against the sheet, her loose hair spread in disarray, her lips parted in a sweet, dreamy, warm expression.

He stared at the picture for a moment, feeling involuntarily that he grew hot, his manhood swollen in his trousers. He ran his hand over his chin, sinking into the world of his fantasies, having not been able to experience fulfilment with her for weeks despite her allowing him to touch her.

Partly.

"What are you doing, boss? Have some fun with us. Alice is lovely and lonely." Said Allan, embracing one of the girls, pretty and slim, who giggled quietly, looking him boldly straight in the face.

He got up without a word and went out the back exit to smoke a cigarette, dialing her phone number on the way. She didn't answer for a long time, as was her usual habit, but after a while he heard her sigh on the other end, indicating her impatience.

"– I asked you so many times – why are you doing this? –"

"– I wanted to hear your voice –" He hummed, taking a drag, tilting his head back, enjoying this moment.

Silence answered him on the other side.

"– my grandfather is trying to contact me – to make a deal – to make me his successor again – but I don't know if I want it – what do you think? –" He asked, taking a drag again, the tip of his cigarette turning red with a quiet hiss.

He heard her swallow hard, horrified by his words.

"– don't do it – don't go back there –" She whispered.

They were both silent for a long moment.

"– I'm worried about my mother – she's torn between Criston and her father, she's begging me to come back – she and Cole had an affair for many years, even before my father died –" He said indifferently, looking up at the sky, spotting the outline of a crescent moon among the darkness.

"– did you know about this? –" She asked shocked, and he sighed heavily.

"– yes –"

His girlfriend grunted, trying to speak quietly.

"– she's not part of all this – let her stay out of it – your grandfather's reign won't last forever – Otto wants you to worry about such things – he knows you love and care for her – he'll treat her and Helaena as bargaining chips –"

He nodded, letting out a loud puff of smoke through his nose, having exactly the same opinion as her, surprised at how much peace he felt.

She was the only one who could understand him.

She was the only one he could get advice from.

She was the only one he could trust.

"Thank you. Sleep well."

"I'm here for you." She muttered quickly, as if she feared he was about to hang up.

He hummed under his breath, extinguishing the remnants of his cigarette on the metal basket, feeling the warmth in his heart at her words.

"I know."

The next day, the sight of her in the library filled him with both euphoria and frustration – he knew she wasn't wearing a bra to annoy him, at the same time tempting him when he knew he couldn't take her, and wanting him to know that any other men could look shamelessly at her nipples.

All his anger at her and what she was doing to him vanished when she pulled her shirt off, her half-naked body covered from the others only by a few rows of bookcases.

Thank goodness it was summer and no one went there.

Her nipples were swollen and hard under his tongue, her breast plump and soft between his fingers. The smell of her naked skin, the heat that emanated from her, her hands clenched in his hair, holding him close drove him mad. His groan vibrated through her soft skin as he felt her hips begin to roll deliberately back and forth, rubbing against his throbbing, swollen manhood.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He mumbled, switching from one of her breasts to the other, slightly larger, which could not be seen at first glance.

The thought of being so close to her and yet not being able to have all of her, like he had then, that night, was driving him crazy.

This was her punishment for what he had done to her.

He sighed as she rose suddenly from her knees, putting her T-shirt over her head, his hand involuntarily going to her calf, wanting to hold her, his body hot with desire, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Not yet.

Just a moment longer.

"– baby –"

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, throwing him a calm, expectant look, like a teacher looking at her student.

He swallowed hard and stood up with her, shocked, his length pulsed hard at her words.

I'll let you sleep with me.

"– do you mean it? –" He asked with difficulty, unsure if he could stand it any longer, if he knew whether he could pass the next test she wanted to put before him.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained as if nothing had ever happened, grabbing her backpack.

He caught her around the waist and pulled her aggressively to himself, making her body slam into his, his heart in his throat.

"– promise me –"

Instead of words, she did what she'd forbidden him to do since they'd started dating: her wonderfully moist, swollen lips pressed against his, and he groaned loudly, shocked. He sighed, pressing her body closer to his as her slick tongue slid between his teeth, licking him invitingly, making his cock swell painfully hard in his trousers.

I'm not going to make it, he thought, I'm just going to rip her panties off and fuck her on the floor.

She, however, pushed him away, looking at him with her mouth wide open, in her eyes pleading, warmth, affection.

Everything he wanted so badly.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled out with a pain from which he felt his heart squeeze, not knowing how to act, feeling with desperation that he was unable to wait any longer.

"– I love you –" He muttered, something in her gaze from which he grew hot.

"– I love you too –"

He stared at her like an idiot, feeling like he was running out of breath, because here she was, for the first time responding to his confession, for the first time saying those words.

I love you too.

He felt something inside him break, that if he didn't feel her right away he would just start crying.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled and walked out, leaving him alone.

He thought it was pathetic that he was so desperate that he hid his face in his hands and burst out crying.

He longed for her closeness, for her tenderness, and she only gave him moments when he craved hours, days, months.

He thought heaven and earth might collapse, but he had to go to these goddamn excavations, if only to spend two weeks fucking her all night.

"Two weeks? You shouldn't disappear for that long. The situation is precarious." Said Cole, shaking his head, sitting with him over a drink that same evening.

"I'll be available at night, I'll come by a few times to keep an eye on things. It's only a two-hour drive from here. This case is really important to me." He said, and Criston hummed with understanding.

"I'll do my best, but let's keep in touch."

He nodded at his words.

"Call if something happens."

Even the news that perhaps her ex would be part of their escapade couldn't spoil his mood: he wasn't sure he'd been this excited and terrified at the same time since he was a small child.

On the one hand, it was a dream come true for him, on top of it being in her company; on the other, it was a leap into the deep end of the unknown in a group of people who were strangers and who he didn't know if they would accept him.

He couldn't help the fact that he didn't like to talk much, that others' questions made him uncomfortable, that he felt cornered when too many people looked at him at once.

Nevertheless, as soon as he got the message from her that Daemon had been gone for a few hours, waiting a few streets behind the hotel so as not to arouse suspicion, he pulled up in the car park and got out of the car, looking around.

He thought she would be waiting for him, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

This made him do what he hated to do, which was to ask a stranger something.

A couple of students, looking at him with surprise in their eyes, showed him the way, telling him that his girlfriend was in the area where the research was to take place.

Walking there from a distance, he thought with awe that it was a huge project: there was a gigantic stone fortress towering over them, around which he understood there had been many wooden houses in medieval times, of which there was now no trace.

He swallowed hard when he heard her voice from afar and stepped uncertainly into one of the tents, all eyes on him.

He felt warmth in his heart seeing that she smiled at the sight of him, her eyes shining with pure happiness.

She loved him.

Not even the rage at the sight of Robb could take away the satisfaction he felt at what he had done to her, at the ease with which her body had taken him in as soon as the door from their hotel room had closed behind them.

He wasn't sure if his brain was functioning at all during this act, because he was too stunned by pleasure and desire, the simple, primitive thrusting into her again and again with low, pathetic groans of delight.

She was so wonderfully warm, moist and soft, squeezing and enveloping his cock so perfectly, that he felt like crying.

His niece.

That night they made love twice more, completely bare, with no shame or regret, no thoughts of morality or propriety. What he focused on were her moans, her cunt squeezing him in convulsions of pleasure, dripping with her desire, his lips melting with hers in sticky, loud, deep kisses full of their tongues and saliva, their fingers entwined together in a tender embrace over her head.

They fell asleep cuddled into each other like little children, stirring with difficulty on the single, cramped bed exactly as they had then, eight years ago.

He felt, looking at her peaceful face immersed in sleep every time he awoke in the night, that he had regained something.

He had regained her.

In the morning, to their frustration, their alarm clock woke them up. They were both sleepy and half-unconscious when they showered together, soaping each other's bodies and hair, brushing their lips lazily against each other's, running their hands over each other's naked, wet bodies.

There was something wonderfully natural about the way her figure clung to his, seeking refuge in his embrace, his arms pressing her against his body, his hand stroking her hair, her eyes closed in complete peace.

They both felt it.

His niece froze and blinked when she saw him start to dress, putting on exactly the same clothes as usual.

"No. After all, we will be working in sand and dirt. I told you to take something to change into." She said, and he scratched his chin, recognising that perhaps, indeed, his black trousers and Tshirt were not a good idea for such heat.

"I took my tracksuit bottoms and some other old clothes, but I won't look very neat in that." He confessed with embarrassment, rummaging through his bag.

She knelt down beside him, looking through his things together, apparently trying to find something that would be suitable.

"You have to be comfortable first and foremost. And you have to have a baseball cap."

"What?"

"I took one for you. Otherwise you'll get sunstroke."

It occurred to him, when he'd put on everything she'd told him to, that he looked like a drunk from under the shop. He was relieved when it turned out that she herself had dressed in a similar way, a white Tshirt and tracksuit shorts on her body, a baseball cap on her head, her hair tied up in a braid.

If they were going to look like drunks from under the shop, then at least together.

As soon as they reached the tent where they were all supposed to gather it became apparent that if he had come dressed the way he wanted to, he would have made an idiot of himself.

They all looked alike, dressed in bright, light clothes that might as well have been pyjamas. He pressed his lips together, spotting Robb among the other students.

He hoped he had heard her moans as he walked past their room.

How good she felt with him as he took her for himself again and again.

The professor greeted them and assigned them their tasks. To his surprise and relief at the same time, the man divided them into three groups. One was to be led by himself, another by Robb and the third by his girlfriend.

Her words that she was his assistant and how much the professor trusted her were not mere boasts, he thought with admiration.

He had, of course, been assigned to her group and was relieved at the thought that for the rest of his stay he wouldn't have to look at her ex any more than necessary.

His Rhaenys knew most of the people she worked with, who were simply her colleagues from the lower years of their studies. They had specific spaces designated for research and their task for the day was simple: digging.

Of course, the upper layers of the earth were removed by special excavators, but at some point they had to work by hand so as not to destroy any artifacts hidden beneath the surface.

There was something liberating and relaxing about the fact that this activity of driving a shovel deep into the ground and digging a big hole in it didn't require him to think too much.

After a few hours, he already understood why his niece had made him put a baseball cap on his head and why they had each brought a couple of big bottles of water for themselves: sweat was running down his back from the heat and from time to time he had to take a break to drink.

To his relief, even though the people in the group were talking to each other, fooling around and laughing, they didn't drag him into any discussions or distract him from his work. Rhaenys was digging too, approaching each person when they expressed the opinion that they might have come across some historical relic.

After only half an hour, one of the girls stumbled upon a coin from the 19th century.

The real excitement he felt was when his shovel hit something that clanked as if it were made of metal.

"Rhaenys?" He called, and though the people around him didn't know who he meant, his niece walked up to him, cocking her head in curiosity, her face all pink with exertion.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, and he hit the spot he had just dug with his shovel again, intending to make the same sound.

His discovery piqued interest.

He crouched down, letting his girlfriend, more experienced and confident in what she was doing, take the smaller shovel, digging around the object, one of her colleagues took the brush, shaking the dust off its surface.

"It's a German pistol. Second World War. Very good condition." He stated, and his girlfriend nodded.

"Yes, the Germans were in this fortress in the 1940s. Good job, Aemond, secure it and sign it. Give this object a number as I explained to you this morning." She said, patting him on the back, and he nodded.

"Your first find. Feels cool, doesn't it?" Said the boy, whose name he understood was Cregan, but he didn't know what he was supposed to answer him, feeling uncomfortable at the thought that everyone was looking at him.

"Yeah." He muttered, looking down at his knuckles, for some reason losing the confidence he gained at night in clubs when he was about to put a gun to someone's head.

When he wasn't about to hurt or scare someone he was helpless and didn't know how to act.

They had spent the whole day doing manual labour and although his erection had swollen all over feeling her naked body pressed against his under the refreshing shower, he didn't even have the strength to move, let alone fuck her hard.

So he ended up making soft, tender love to her, his hips rocking lazily inside her, sinking again and again into the tightness of her sticky, throbbing cunt.

Her naked back was nestled against his sweaty chest, his face snuggled against the hollow of her neck as his fingers dug deeper into her fleshy folds with her quiver of pleasure, his free hand holding her thigh spread wide, allowing him to reach as deep as possible with the tip of his erection.

"– no – it hurts –" She muttered, and he froze and stopped moving, rising up on his elbow, his breath deep and heavy, his heart pounding fast in his chest.

"– what, baby? –" He whispered, placing a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek, wanting to make amends to her for whatever he had done to her. She turned her face towards him, stroking his bare arm.

"– when you're too deep – it hurts –" She confessed.

"– 'm sorry –" He hummed, their lips joined in a sticky, wet, tender kiss. He ran the tip of his nose over her face, his cock twitching deep inside her while his thumb teased her swollen clit with lazy, circular motions, her body twitching again and again in pleasure.

He swallowed hard as she rose up and slid his erection out of her, thinking with horror that she had had enough of him and intended to sleep separately, she, however, turned to face him. He sighed, surprised, as her fingers gently grasped the base of his manhood, all soaked from her wetness, directing the swollen, pink head of it against her slit.

With a tentative, slow thrust of his hips he opened her on his fat length, sliding into her slick walls with ease, sinking anew into her wonderful warmth that soothed him.

He moaned softly as she threw her arms around his neck, as her bare breasts pressed against his chest, as her puffy, sweet lips joined his in a greedy, deep kiss full of affection and tenderness. He sank his fingers into the soft skin of her back and buttocks, beginning to pound into her anew, feeling her completely differently in this angle.

They began to pant into each other's throats, licking and teasing each other, a wonderful shudder shook his body as her lips traveled lower, to his jaw, to his neck, to his shoulders, kissing and sucking on him, leaving wet, warm marks behind.

"– fuck – ah –" He exhaled, feeling his cock throbbing hard inside her fleshy walls, the wonderful tingling in his lower abdomen and testicles filling his head with utter emptiness, pure desire to fill her with his seed.

Their foreheads pressed against each other and their bodies intertwined in a loving, close embrace as they began to chase their fulfilment, loud, sticky splats building their way to release.

"– u-uncle – 'm close –" She mewled like a child, her sweet, leaking cunt beginning to clench on his cock, sucking it inside her. He kissed her temple, snuggling her into his body, slamming into her with loud grunts of pleasure.

"– me too, baby – my sweet little girl –" He exhaled and threw his head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering relief, his erection beginning to pulsate deep inside her, filling her with his semen.

She moaned, rising and falling on his quivering erection, reaching her own peak with a innocent, girlish moan of delight, sending him into a state of complete ecstasy. They hugged each other, saying nothing more, not separating their bodies, wanting to remain as they were now, as close as possible.

The presence of her body right beside him, the fact that her sticky pussy was warming his soft manhood, his arms and hands entwined in a tender embrace made him sleep a stony, peaceful sleep, tired and satisfied.

To his relief, Criston had kept him informed of the state of affairs and it appeared that relative calm prevailed apart from a few minor incidents, so his presence on the scene was not necessary for the time being.

He took malicious satisfaction in the moments when his niece would be called by Daemon, wanting to make sure she was okay. She would talk to him on the phone while his hands traveled over her naked body, stroking her thighs, belly and breasts, his lips brushing gently against the skin of her neck, merely teasing her.

She usually tried to pull away from him when his thumb, seemingly by accident, ran over her nipple, when his fingers sank tentatively into her womanhood, leaking all over from her moisture and his spend with which he had filled her moments before.

Although he was a grown man, he felt like he was a child again.

In the days that followed, he felt that he loosened up a bit with the group of people he had to work with – he didn't talk to them and concentrated on his tasks, but it seemed to him that they simply stopped paying attention to him, which suited him. They were not spiteful or unpleasant about it: they apparently recognised that this was his nature and left him alone.

His Rhaenys was a different person at work: she smiled and joked a lot, easily having dozens of conversations with all sorts of people, even those she didn't know, winning their sympathy. He somehow admired how unforced her talkativeness, assertiveness and empathy were, how easily she made difficult decisions when others were panicking.

"– fuck – I think I broke it –" Cregan said, leaning over something that looked from a distance like a vase still half-buried in the ground.

"– call the restorers – get them to secure the cavities so nothing else breaks and they're able to put it back together later –" She said without a trace of annoyance or aggression. The boy nodded in agreement and stepped out of the big, wide hole they were sitting in, doing exactly what she'd told her.

"You're good at this." He stated as they sat alone at breakfast break under one of the trees, looking at the large stone fortress stretching out before their eyes.

Although their group sat elsewhere, she chose to stay with him, as she always did.

He felt an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart at the thought that, as much as he wanted to, he didn't fit in with neither her friends nor the world.

He was a perpetual obstacle to her, a wall between what she deserved and the miserable scraps she suffered in his presence through his vanity.

She looked at him and cocked her head, a wide smile on her face.

She was happy.

"What do you mean?" She asked, in some natural reflex cuddling her face into his, her hand on his shoulder. He kissed the tip of her nose, stroking her skin with his palm, feeling a subconscious surge of desire, as he always did when she showed him tenderness and interest.

"You're made for this job. For being with these people. But you need to sit with me instead." He muttered wearily, looking down at his fingers in shame.

"I don't have to. No one is forcing me to."

"You're afraid that if you leave me, I'll become the way I was. You're paying the price for my satisfaction."

She leaned in, wanting to look at his face, but he closed his eyes, feeling shame and regret, for some reason unable to enjoy it all, to relax, to let go.

"You would want this, wouldn't you? For me to disappoint you. To pack up and go home, to escape what is uncomfortable for you. Loneliness is safe, I know that better than anyone. But if you want to be alone, what are you doing here?" She asked.

He looked at her and shook his head, feeling tears burning under his eyelids.

"I don't know. I feel good and bad at the same time. I'm fulfilling my dream, I have you, but I can't enjoy it all because in the back of my mind I'm wondering if Cole is going to call me at night to tell me all hell has broken loose. It's like what's going on right now is a dream, and I'm aware that I'm going to wake up. As if I have to watch something I know I'll lose one day." He mouthed, bursting out crying, choking on his own tears. He covered his ears with his hands and leaned his head between his knees, panting loudly, feeling like he was just experiencing a panic attack.

"– God, Aemond – calm down – calm down, I'm here – this isn't a dream – my feelings for you – the fact that you're here – it's all real – don't you feel it? –" She asked in a whisper, enclosing him in the warm, safe embrace of her arms, pressing his face between her breasts where he took refuge.

He closed his eyes, concentrating only on her fingers combing through his hair, on her warmth, on her scent, on the softness of her body.

She didn't let go of him for a moment, stroking his head, neck and back, placing a tender kiss on his temple once in a while. Slowly his breathing calmed, the pounding of his heart slowed, and his body relaxed in her soft, caring, loving arms.

She let him settle on her thighs, let him snuggle into her lap: she stroked him like a small child, saying nothing, letting him just be, drawing on her closeness, her understanding, her wisdom and kindness.

He thought that if he could die now, in her embrace, he would be happy.

Her words and closeness gave him comfort and for that afternoon, looking at her from afar, sitting on the sand, he thought he was truly happy.

Truly at peace.

And then he saw five missed calls from Cole and one message from him.

"I'll go with you." She said, watching as he changed into his normal clothes.

"No fucking way." He growled, looking at her with impatience, wanting her to get the idea out of her head.

"I'll be waiting for you in the car. Don't leave me alone." She begged.

"No. I'll be back before dawn. I promise." He said, kissing her forehead quickly and left, feeling that if he looked at her again, he wouldn't be able to drive there.

Some part of him dreaded going back there, as if being in the light for so long would blind him to the point where he wouldn't be able to see anything in the dark.

Late in the evening, he arrived at Heavenly Beach and went inside, asking one of the bodyguards what had happened. The man nodded towards one of the lodges – his brother was spread out in the company of three girls enjoying himself at his best, buying everyone a round of shots.

"He didn't pay for anything, boss. He says you're the one paying for the booze and the whores tonight."

He moved towards him feeling his jaw clench in rage, the loud music around him ringing in his ears, the twinkling lights around him making him feel like he was about to vomit.

Aegon spotted him and stood up from the couch, pointing at him with his hand.

"Here is my brother. To him you owe such a great party tonight, applause for him!" He called out, the drunken part of the club guests echoed him in euphoria, but the rest were silent, looking at them with concern.

"I think my brother drank too much." He said coldly, towering over him after a moment, looking at him with a dispassionate gaze. "And he doesn't know that he's going to pay for what he ordered and the women he brought with him himself."

"And where's your woman? Hm? Our pretty niece. Did you know, guys, that he kissed her when they were kids? He was already fucked up then." Aegon sneered, taking a loud sip of whisky from his glass, embracing one of his women, a pretty, blue-eyed blonde with his arm.

His men looked at each other in dismay, apart from the background music all around them complete silence.

"Get up, take your whores and get out of my club. Now." He said in a voice that didn't bear objecting, but Aegon only laughed and sighed.

"You know what the worst part is? He's still fucking her. My father was lying dead and he was in the next room banging that poor girl. Tell us, did you rape her? You surely did, she would never want you of her own free will. But in what position? Missionary? No, no, I know! In doggy-style, like a hound. You have always been faithful like a dog. Woof, woof!" He scoffed, and something snapped inside him.

His brother froze, looking at him with big eyes as he pointed his gun straight at his forehead, the girls around him squealed in terror and broke out of his embrace, moving as far away from them as they could.

"– wow, wow, wow – calm down, have you completely lost your fucking mind? –" Aegon asked in a trembling voice, raising his hands in a gesture of submission, and for some reason he grinned broadly.

"– I didn't rape her – she wanted it – we did it a few more times after that – she was always good to me, unlike you – we're together now, you know? –" He hummed, cocking his head with an expression of satisfaction on his face, thinking in the back of his mind that this was who he just was, who he wanted to become.

He felt powerful, strong, invincible.

"– what the fuck are you talking about? –" Aegon muttered, shaking his head as if he thought his younger brother had simply gone mad.

He, however, had never felt his mind so sharp and focused before.

"– our grandfather made you his successor to reason with me – before our father died he said he would pass everything on to me and that was his original plan – but after Larys put the rape pill in her drink, I couldn't let him live – I don't expect you to understand that though – loyalty, devotion, affection – look at you – you must have pissed your pants with fear, am I wrong? – stand up, show yourself to everyone –" He sneered, raising his voice defiantly so that everyone could hear him.

There was complete silence all around them.

"– I said stand up –" He growled seeing that his brother was looking at him with big eyes red from tears, his mouth quivering in horror and humiliation.

Yes, he thought.

Feel what I felt.

He, completely naked then, standing up to his waist in water, his face all swollen from tears.

"– it's an unpleasant feeling, hm? – humiliation –" He said, watching as Aegon stood up slowly, the large, dark stain on his light-coloured trousers suggesting he was right.

He grinned at him and thought that such a lesson would be enough for him, lowering his gun, but his brother threw himself at him, climbing onto the table, wanting to get him with his own hands, and in a subconscious, involuntary reflex he fired.

His brother gasped heavily, as if surprised, and grabbed himself by the stomach, falling backwards onto the couch, another dark spot forming where he pressed his hand.

"– you fucking shot me –" He mumbled out, and he shook his head, feeling his whole body freeze, people around him screaming and running away, his and Aegon's bodyguards starting to shoot at each other, causing a general panic.

Cole grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him towards the side exit, saying loudly that they should call an ambulance.

He saw her sweet face, felt the embrace of her warm arms, her moist lips placing tender kisses on his face.

He thought that if Aegon died, she would never forgive him.

He promised her that whatever happened, he wouldn't be a murderer.

"– this son of a bitch has to survive – do you understand? –" He said and turned, running up the stairs, several of his bodyguards moving towards his brother, trying to stop the bleeding.

Criston nodded and pulled out his phone to make a call to the hospital.

By the time he walked him to his car the ambulance was on its way.

"– get out of here – hide somewhere – you shot him low in the stomach – I think he'll make it – I'll let you know when I find out something –"

He nodded and sit inside the car, hearing the gunshots again – Criston fell to the ground and hid under one of the trucks while he started to back up and with a squeal of tyres drove ahead.

Only now, heading ahead through streets full of lamplight did he wonder what he had actually done.

He had shot his brother.

He told him their secret.

Everyone heard it, Daemon would find out, and she would be in danger.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, thinking that he just wanted Aegon to feel what he had felt for so many years, that he wanted to teach him a lesson, show him who was in charge, who was better, smarter, cleverer.

Who was the better son, the better brother, the better lover, the better man.

But for the first time he asked himself, was he really better than him?

He was just as scared, just as helpless, just as small.

He had nearly killed his older brother.

That thought, and the realisation that Aegon really might not have made it, caused him to burst into a loud, hysterical sob, and cover his mouth with his hand, trying to silence the sound that was coming from it.

As he drove ahead all he could feel was fear, fear of her gaze, her disgust, her rejection.

Why would she want to be at the side of someone like him?

When he arrived it was almost morning, dozens of missed calls from her and messages asking if and when he would be back were evidence that she had been up all night.

Before he walked into their room, he stood outside the door for a moment, wondering how he was supposed to explain this to her, what to say so she wouldn't tell him to pack up and get out of her life.

He had ruined everything.

When he opened the door he had the feeling that his whole body was quivering, stiff and tense: her gaze, her eyes and cheeks were red from tears, her eyebrows arched in pain told him that she was convinced that he had left her, that he had deceived her, that he had used her again.

She rose and wanted to throw herself into his arms, but he spoke up faster, not wanting to deceive her.

"I shot Aegon."

She stopped in her half-step, looking at him in disbelief, her expression seeming as if she hadn't understood what he'd said.

"What?"

He drew in a loud breath, feeling that he was a little boy again, a terrified child who had broken a very expensive, valuable vase and had to explain why it had happened.

"He was fucking mocking me. He implied that I raped you. In my own club. In front of my men." He muttered as if it changed anything, realising how pathetic he sounded.

The thought that he had lost everything again, that there was no way she could forgive him made him hide his face in his hands and just weep.

All he wanted was for her to hug him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that she knew he had hurt and abused him all his life, that she had witnessed it herself.

That she understood that something had simply snapped inside him.

"Is he...is he dead?"

He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself, his breath heavy and hitched in panic, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"I don't know. I shot him in the stomach and he's in hospital. He threw himself at me and scared me and I just fired. He saw I had a fucking gun in my hand!" He exclaimed as if he was ten years old and had just told his mum why his brother was lying unconscious on the floor after their fight.

"So you didn't kill him, did you? You didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. He scared you and you fired, but if he hadn't, you wouldn't have shot him." She said slowly in a trembling, terrified voice, and he lowered his hands, looking at her with big eyes, thinking that some part of him wanted to kill him then.

And then he remembered that after he felt that justice had been done, his hand with the gun lowered.

"– I – I just wanted him to stop laughing – he asked if I acted like a dog when I raped you – and I – God, baby, I told him about us in front of everyone – that we are together –" He mouthed, shaking his head, feeling completely naked, her expression of sadness and disappointment made him just sit on the bed, hide his face in his hands and cry, cry, cry.

"– I didn't mean it – I didn't know what to do – he wanted to humiliate me – me and you by spreading such rumours – I decided it was better to tell the truth than – I don't know – I'm so sorry –" He mumbled, himself not knowing where he was going with this thought, feeling a huge, cold emptiness.

He tensed all over hearing her footsteps, lifting his gaze to her, thinking for some reason that she was going to slap him.

She, however, knelt between his thighs, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

"– it would have come out eventually anyway – Aemond, I need to know what is going on inside your mind – if you –"

She asked, but was interrupted by the sound of his phone. He took it quickly out of his pocket seeing that his mother was calling him and swallowed hard feeling that he couldn't do it.

"– pick up – you have to do it, maybe she knows if Aegon is alive –"

But what if his brother was dead?

If he killed him with his own hands?

"– I can't – I don't want to –"

"– Aemond – prove to me who you are – take responsibility –"

He covered his face with his hand as he answered and put his phone to his ear.

"– is he alive? –" He muttered.

"– thank God yes – Aemond –" Alicent said, but he didn't let her finish, afraid of what she wanted to tell him.

That he had already been disgusting as a child and was a disgusting man now too.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, Mum, it was an accident, I swear – he was drunk and he threw himself at me seeing that I had a gun in my hand and I just –"

"– I know – Aegon told me everything – he admitted he provoked you – but I don't understand how you could have let this happen – you are brothers – you almost killed each other for what? – for a few bags of drugs, thick files of money? –" She asked, and he closed his eyes, warm tears one after another flowing down his cheeks.

"– he said I raped her –"

Alicent was silent for a moment.

"– where are you now? – come to the hospital – apologise to each other, explain everything, start all over again –" His mother pleaded, but he wasn't sure if there was anything left that they could fix.

"– I don't know if I want to see him ever again, Mum – I want to rest – let him know I hope he recovers quickly and that I'm sorry –" He muttered and hung up, feeling he had nothing more to say to her.

His niece looked at him in pain, her hands on his thighs as she knelt between his legs.

If Alys had been sitting in her place, all he would have thought about was putting his cock down her throat, but in her case, there was something in her expression that made him crave something completely different, but equally intense.

"– please, embrace me –" He mumbled out, before hot tears again ran down his face one by one, his sobs so pitiful that she stood up quickly, frightened, and let their silhouettes fall together on the bed.

It wasn't until her arms hugged him into her chest, when his hands closed on her back, that he felt his whole body trembling.

"– close your eyes – breathe –" She whispered, pressing her cheek to the top of his head, her fingers combing lazily through his short hair.

He did as she said and tried to focus only on the air he was letting in and out of his mouth, all around them the quiet singing of birds amid the rising sun.

"– don't leave me –" He muttered, snuggling tighter into her warm, familiar body, her wonderful scent filling his entire lungs.

He heard her sigh softly, her hand stroked his back reassuringly.

"– I know how much you are suffering – I am here – you are safe now –" She said, and he felt his heart stop for a moment.

I know how much you are suffering.

I am here.

You are safe now.

He had longed to hear this from his mother, his father, his brother, from her for so many years that when it finally happened his body just froze.

"– I love you –" He whispered, however differently than usual, feeling like he was suffocating. "– God, I love you so much –"

His niece texted her friend that she and him had poisoned themselves with something and that they would come to work later, wanting him to take at least a little nap, knowing that he would fall into despair if she left him alone even for a moment.

He fell asleep only when he unbuttoned her shirt and cuddled his face between her bare, plump breasts, the warmth and softness of her naked body, her long fingers running over his head soothed him.

Despite what he feared, she understood him.

It's always been this way.

When she woke him, telling him she had to go, he begged her to just let him stay as he was, her skin warm and drenched with her scent, his body pressed against hers in a natural, vulnerable embrace.

"– I have to – I should have been there hours ago – but you stay, get some sleep –" She whispered, stroking his head. His eyebrows arched in pain as he shook his head at her words, roaming his hands over her body in a gesture of desperation, trying to stop her.

"– no – no –"

"– Aemond – please –" She said in pain, pressing him against her again hearing his heavy, loud breath, tears squeezing into his eyes.

She sighed.

"– come with me then –"

And he did, because he didn't want to be alone.

When they went outside for the first time she took his hand in hers, exactly like when they were little children playing on the beach. He tried to control himself, but the squeeze in his throat was proof that he wanted to cry again.

He was so exhausted.

"– don't work today – sit under the tree – I'll be next to you –" She said when they got there, but he shook his head and squeezed her fingers tighter between his own.

She looked at him with a gaze in which he saw everything – worry, affection, concern, sadness, understanding, desire. He felt his heart grow hot as his free hand rose to her face, running gently over her jawline, and she nuzzled her cheek into it, closing her eyes.

He leaned in and kissed her as if it was the most natural thing he'd ever done – her lips welcomed him with gentleness and tenderness, parting before his tongue, letting him slide it lazily inside. Her fingers stroked his neck as they clung to each other, sunk only in that sweet, sticky pleasure, humming contentedly, not caring if anyone saw it.

And then he heard it.

The screech of tyres.

By the time he heard her squeal and turned to see what was happening Daemon was already standing in front of him, his fist hit him in the face so hard that he fell to the ground, losing his hearing for a moment.

"– STOP IT –" He heard her scream as her step-father turned him onto his back, punching him with his fist again, again and again, warm liquid trickled from his nose, but he did not resist.

"– I promised you this –" He hissed with rage. "– I promised you that if you didn't leave her alone, I would kill you with my own hands –"

"– DAD, STOP – STOP, STOP, STOP –" She whimpered, trying to pull him away, several people interrupted their work, wanting to see what was happening, looking at this scene in disbelief.

Finally, professor Addams and Robb came out of the tent, hearing loud screams outside.

"– what is the meaning of this? – stop immediately, that's my student! –" The professor shouted. Daemon laughed and stood up from his knees, pointing his finger at her.

"– and that's my daughter and I'm taking her home –"

"– no –"

Daemon looked at her in a way that made her tremble with fear, his jaw clenched as tightly as if it was about to burst.

"– with you I will speak later –" He growled.

"– I won't go with you –"

Daemon wanted to grab her arm, and in a natural reaction he wanted to get up and protect her, however he was preceded by Robb, standing between her and her father.

"– she said no – she's an adult – should I call the police? – he can sue you for assault, you know that? –" He asked, a long, heavy silence fell around them.

He stood up, looking at him, then at her, Daemon's gaze fixed on her face.

"– if you don't come back with me, I can no longer protect you – you will break your mother's heart –" He said coldly, his words intended only for her.

He looked at her in horror, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

Her gaze when her eyes finally turned towards him was full of fear that because of him she would lose her future, her family, her peace of mind and everything she had before he stormed into her life again.

"– you promised me –" He muttered in a trembling voice, looking only at her, the only person who could give him what he desired.

She had promised him that if he tried, if he came here, if he changed, they would spend two weeks together.

"– I did –" She whispered and he felt his heart stop, convinced that this was it.

Their end.

"– let's get back to work –" She said and turned as if nothing had happened, heading towards one of the tents, startling him and everyone around him.

"– come here, I said! –" Growled Daemon, wanting to lunge at her and take her home by force, but Robb blocked his way again.

"– enough – one more step and I'll really call the police –" He threatened, her step-father's gaze shifting to his face after a moment.

He turned away, angry and pale, his hands clenched into fists as he got into his car and drove off with a loud screech.

Feeling his heart pounding like mad and not wanting to be left alone with Robb, he moved after her, adrenaline pulsing hard through his veins.

She had sacrificed herself for him.

Her family, her home.

Just for him.

When he stepped inside he wanted to embrace her, but she shook her head.

"Sit down. I'll get you some ice. Your cheek is all swollen." She said calmly, taking a few cubes out of the fridge and it was only then that he saw how much her hands were trembling.

"– baby – come here –" He whispered, gently placing his hand on the back of her head, and although she resisted for a moment, she finally allowed him to put his arms around her and cuddle her into him.

Her body was shaking.

"– I know, baby – it was very scary – I'm here –" He hummed tenderly, stroking her hair and back, his face pressed against the hollow of her neck.

"– I don't think I have anywhere to go back to –" She mumbled out with difficulty, heartbroken, and burst out into a quiet, exasperated cry.

He swallowed hard, hugging her tighter to him, coming up with an idea he knew their family would definitely not like.

"– you will live with me –"

[grims-local-pkmn-irl-hub]

How to Write Engaging Anons

I’ve spoken to a lot of people behind close doors and we have all come to a realization: PKMN IRL as a community isn’t the greatest at sending engaging anons,,,

A lot of anons tend to get off track from what the blog runner is trying to do or will send completely unrelated anons during a plot moment on someones blog which can be incredibly frustrating for the blog runner.

So, I’ve decided to compile a little “guide” to help.

Look over the recent posts of a blog to see if they’re doing anything that could be considered plot relevant before sending an anon. Are they vague posting about something? Did they cut off a tangent too short? Did they mention they have stories to share if anyone wants them? Did they say something off or slightly concerning? ASK ABOUT IT! Ask them to elaborate! Ask for more detail!

Try and keep asks on task if a plot hook/point is currently happening. It is incredibly discouraging for a blog runner to see the notif for an anon only to open it and it have nothing to do with what they are currently trying to reveal/be engaged with. Do not latch onto a bit like your life depends on it because you are most likely just tiring out the blog runner who just wants to share interesting character/story info. Bits have a time and a place.

Don’t have a character that would realistically send that anon? Then don’t send it as that character, send it as yourself. The blog runner and character will not know the difference. This also has an added benefit of baiting a character into talking about something you know your character can then interact with. Anons are great for interaction in more ways than just asks.

Worried someone already sent the ask you’re about to send? SEND IT ANYWAYS! A blog runner would much prefer two of asks of generally the same question than zero asks! And it shows that people care enough to ask that question twice! It gives the blog runner something to think about when writing!

Don’t have any idea of what anon to send without an ask game? SEND THE SUPER “BASIC” ONES! I promise you that very basic questions like “how do feel about this”, “why do you say that”, “you mentioned [this], can you elaborate more” ARE LOVED BY BLOG RUNNERS!!! So much can be understood about a character’s mental state or attitude depending on how they choose to answer these questions. They’re “basic” and “overused” because they are really good questions to ask!

Try and engage critically with a character! Remember! This is an RP community! We are playing these characters as if they are real so you need to treat them like people! For example: Telling a very clearly mentally ill character that their thought process isn’t healthy and that they should just go to therapy isn’t the most helpful anon and it especially isn’t when that seems to be all the blog runner gets when they’re character gets like that. A good way to try and engage critically is to ask similar questions as above such as “why do you think that” along with some others like “can you walk me through your thought process”, “do you know when you started acting/thinking like this”, etc.

IC Hate Anons. These anons are fun and good! They can be very useful for story telling and showing off certain aspects of a character! They can also be super draining especially when that seems to be all that a character gets when trying to do plot hooks/points. It can make a blog runner’s motivation wane and deplete when all it ever seems like is that anons want to use their character as a punching bag. A good way to negate this is if you send an IC hate anon is to quickly follow it up with an anon that’s trying to engage critically and is asking questions and treating the character as a person. This allows for a blog runner to have choices on whether they want their character to be a punching bag right now and get beat down or would rather follow the anons line of questioning.

Ask games. I know I’m beating a dead horse here but SEND AN ASK TO THE PERSON YOU ARE REBLOGGING FROM. The blog runner will see you reblogging it from them and be waiting for an ask to come in and then it never does. Send an ask. They are literally pre-written most of the time. Okay that’s all I have to say here. 👍

Make sure the anon has some sort of substance. Even when sending anons outside of plot periods make sure the anon has something the character and blog runner can actually feasibly answer. One word anons that are just “yeah” or “okay” are incredibly difficult to respond to. So is randomly being sent quotes or things that just generally have nothing to do with the blog or pokemon in general. People have an easier time when being sent asks about their character’s pokemon, family, friends, most recent stupid post, etc. I have about 40 anons rotting in my inbox for @/espers-n-espurrs because they have nothing to respond to. And this isn’t to say silly/dumb anons shouldn’t be a thing. They should be but they should also be something someone could reasonably reply with besides just replying with “why the fuck did you send me this”.

In all, remember you are not only engaging with a character and their story but you are also engaging with a blog runner. You may never know their name or have a one on one conversation with them but the asks you send their characters do have an effect on the blog runner.

Show that you are engaging with their character, show that you care about the story they are trying to tell.

Reblogs are important for interaction but in my mind asks are the backbone of this community. A good ask and a good response allows for a good chance for others to be able to interact with the response IC.

But yeah, remember, the blog runner is still there behind that screen, you are still interacting with them when you interact with their character. Give them something to work with when you send an ask.

[tubbytarchia]

@mcyt-yuri-week day 2 Royalty/Knight, for which I had a very basic idea and then spiralled fully into AU territory without meaning to... Gem is a dragon huntress and it turns out the princess is a secret dragon shifter haha oops!! More thoughts under cut

Gem is a knight who serves the kingdom via hunting dragons to make ends meet, accompanied by a "hound" dragon, raised from birth to hunt other dragons and obey humans - The kingdom's "gift" to her to aid her. (Because how the hell is some basic solitary knight gonna hunt dragons without any help)

One day she spots, ambushes and follows this moth-like dragon that she's only heard of in rumors before

(the little butterfly tail is to distract or lure teehee)

In an attempt to escape the dragon weasels itself into a small cave but Gem's dragon quickly sniffs it out, only for her to come face to face with the princess. Naturally she's like "oh shit you're the princess this is awkward" (also no dragon shifters have been known to exist) and ofc she's not going to kill her then. Not only is there the moral dilemma of killing an innocent human but she also hasn't much to gain from it. Instead she just needs to figure out a way to get Pearl back to the kingdom and try to treat her injuries as well as think up an excuse for why Pearl would be in such a sorry state. She assures Pearl that she won't rat her out even though Pearl is convinced she will because it's valuable intel. Gem could probably swindle a lot of money out of this. But Gem's way too panicked regardless because her life is as good as over if anyone finds out that she harmed the princess

Gem is kinda brash and grits pleasantries through her teeth whenever she's talking to royalty so being stuck with the princess is hell (and somehow almost as concerning to her as the fact that she just discovered a dragon shifter) meanwhile Pearl is trying to get her to drop said pleasantries and appeal to her in an effort to stop Gem from revealing her to anyone (even though Gem wasn't going to regardless but Pearl's equally as panicked as Gem)

Also the hound awoo (I didnt mean for it to have almost the same bodytype as Pearl dragon oops)

And I guess idk!! Im a sucker for any monster shapeshifter forbidden romance plot etc man. That shit makes me weak. So this can just transpire into some little adventure/discovery story. Pearl struggles to accept that Gem doesn't want to rat her out and in trying to appeal to her, she quickly becomes genuine when they hit it off and Pearl finds newfound yearning to leave her princess life behind now that someone knows about her secret. Gem is actually working for the kingdom because something is being held against her, but she leaves duty and goes awol (and becomes wanted oops) to venture out with Pearl to help her find what she's looking for because Gem feels eternally guilty given their first confrontation. Pearl's wings also need to heal for awhile so that's further reason for Gem to aid her. Maybe she also likes Pearl a bit. Just maybe. Idk could be anyone's guess.... Would be crazy if she did

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

this may be hard to answer because we don’t actually know the characters too well yet, but what do you think vox and val actually *love* about eachother? it seems like it’s more than just sex between them, and i’m curious to know what you think their relationship is like outside the toxic or sexual parts

Anon, to me it is not hard to answer at all, I think about it constantly 🩵❤️ of course all I write is based mostly on my headcanons and interpretations.

So... What Vox loves about Valentino? First and foremost, he makes him feel free. Vox is very self-conscious; he has a lot of internalized shame that he tries to cover with his grandiosity and fake smile. Valentino is unapologetically himself, and no matter how annoying it can be, Vox admires it. He's like the least judgmental person, and except for his temper tantrums, he's quite chill. Vox can't handle something? Val doesn't care; he still thinks his boyfriend is smart and will figure shit out eventually. Vox discovers he's into some weird, socially unacceptable kink? Great, they can try it. Vox rambles for hours about sharks? Good, he has a passion; Valentino likes people with passion, he will listen, he likes his voice anyway. Vox, who has spent his whole life crafting this perfect narrative about himself, cherishes the opportunity to feel comfortable enough with other people (a lot of these things apply also to his friendship with Velvette) to act like an absolute idiot around them.

Also, I think Valentino can be a really amazing boyfriend - he can be funny, charming, and mindful of the other person. That's his whole thing; he deals with desires, and that's why people get addicted to him so quickly. In most cases, it inevitably ends with him taking absolute control over the other person and becoming abusive. But Vox is his partner, so he gets just those nice bits because Valentino knows he wouldn't be able to put him down like he did with Angel. Not that he'd want to; he likes having a partner who's equal to him, whom he can break only if he allows him to do so (yes, my reading of them is very BDSM-ish, don't @ me). Valentino wants to be loved, he loves the idea of love, surrounds himself with hearts but at the same refuses to adjust to societal norms in the way that makes him unlovable; every person he ever loved (in his mind, his obsessive desire equals love) rejected him eventually after he revealed his true nature to them. But not Vox. Vox accepts him as broken as he is, and despite all his toxicity, Vox is reliable, he's the most stable part of Valentino's life. He has the patience to deal with his mood swings, he can always find the solution when Val messes something up, he's willing to accept all the attention Valentino wants to give him, and he supports his passions (ruining lives, making weird porn and abusing people).

Essentially, their love is largely about finally finding the other person who is as bad as you are, who accepts you no matter what and helps you grow (become an even worse person).

And some additional things:

Valentino really likes how smart Vox is. He himself is impulsive and acts instantly on his urges because violence is always an answer so he's kinda impressed when Vox presents him with some elaborate plots.

Vox loves Valentino's creativity, aesthetic, and attention to detail. He really likes nice things, but he lacks the ability to understand the nuance that is necessary for creating art.

They both enjoy each other's sense of humor.

Vox really likes that Valentino is kinda dumb? He can take care of him, and he likes taking care of people because it allows him to prove himself as The Best Boyfriend. He doesn't necessarily gets the idea of unconditional love, so the fact that he has an opportunity to earn it makes him feel more secure in their relationship. That's also why he loves spoling Valentino with gifts which is perfect because Valentino loves being spoiled.

Valentino likes being a little silly when he's with Vox. At work he can't manage people with his competence, so he does it with fear. But yelling and throwing people around is exhausting; he sometimes wants to bedazzle his gun while watching some trashy reality TV and bitching about his hard day at work. It's okay because Vox is also a little silly.

Valentino generally helps Vox live life more. He helped him come out of the closet (in my headcanon Vox for his whole life struggled with internalized biphobia); shows him that emotions other than anger are acceptable and don't mean weakness; even small things like always insisting on getting nice meals (while Vox could live his whole life on black coffee and rice) or decorating their apartment with fancy yet useless stuff.

They're both power-crazy maniacs, so the idea of being with someone who is widely desired by others and could destroy them if they wished is just so incredibly hot.

Vox | Valentino | What they hate about each other

If you liked these you should definitely check out my fic

[tench]

Veilguard is such a weird game.

It's not a Dragon age game, it's bately a role playing game. It's an ok action. Even though it is the most stable AAA release it is still just a bunch of barely tied together stuff in a trench coat.

The writing (insultingly dumbed down and absolutely incapable of taking itself seriously untill the last 1/6 of the game) is all over the place, the direction is nonexistent judging by the tonal shift from one quest to another. We can have very heart felt monologue about the fear of death sit right next to a conversation where a lot of things are told using one specific phrase (I really hope in a clumsy attempt at emphasis) repeated till these words lose any meaning to you.

There's also a problem of role-playing in this "rpg" and the Rook. None of your dialogue choices matter in terms of defining your character, no matter the option you choose, the general conversation will carry the upbeat silly tone. "Your backstory and class matter more than your race" works untill it doesn't, like when you are a dwarf but you are denied your own journey and realizations tied to the titans, and maybe it is not your journey to take yet you can't even try to be a part of it, even when Harding is actively reaching out to other dwarves to share this connection. It's also weirdly more interested in writing romance between npcs than for the main character (Lucanis comes to mind, it feels like the game is actively punishing you for pursuing him, you have to lose the whole shadow dragon faction, you won't get to hang out with Dorian and still you have bare minimum and he more interested in Neve anyway), that's extremely funny that this game is player-sexual yet completely player-aromantic. (And I miss the dai option where you can come up and kiss your LI whenever you feel like it).

I won't even touch on the weird and unnecessary sanitation of everything, like we can't allow people or factions to have negative traits whatsoever. And it's not "southern propaganda", it's "we are not engaging with complex topics for the sake of clear dichotomy between good us and evil overlords". Speaking of which

The whole plot.. The general idea of it is ok. You come to stop Solas, you make the situation go sideways, you have to work together to fix your mistakes and maybe learn to sympathize with the antagonist haunted by his own transgressions with the main theme being legacy and your relationship with your culture and the baggage it brings. But the journey is a complete disaster. Part of it works solely because the characters absolutely Refuse to make a plan and the other - because the main character has a blunt head trauma. Maybe it's related. Maybe it's all a mass hallucination. I may try to elaborate on how it's absolutely ridiculous how little the inquisition and the politics have any impact in this game yet somehow 8 people squatting in the Fade with no political affiliations are held responsible for providing for every faction they come across. I won't even try to make sense of it. It's the usual case of "the main character does everything".

The direction is not only absent in the writing. Some lines that are ok in text delivered in such a way you may think they were allowed only to use the very first take.

The music is absolutely forgettable. Also the odd riff during the dramatic reveal absolutely took me out because I thought I heard kazoo (but I bet Varric would love it).

The visuals are.. Ok. It's pretty on the first glance but the more you travel the more you realize that the general design of the locations are kinda lacking. They have this weird gradient that makes everything a little bit more unfocused and a bit washed out. There are also too many cases of the horisont just drowning in the fog. Air perspective is great and it suits locations like Necropolis, but I would argue that these establishing shots should be used for environmental storytelling in other places, with some focal points in the background, like during the final mission where you see the world absolutely drowning in the blight, devouring local statue of liberty. Or the dead Titan. Or the first shot of the Veil jumper forest (I forgot how it's called) where you see the ruins going into he sky. But because of the fog (or sometimes darkness) it feels like the game is more interested in cheating the optimisation than to hint on the bigger picture (like the chantry and the gallows buildings that you can see almost from all locations in DA2 or the andrastian/dread wolf imagery of inquisition)

So, in conclusion. Not the worst game I played, yet disappointing, even if we pretend it's not an installment of a beloved franchise that people were waiting for 10 years.

Ps. Also making such a game with nerfing all the lore only to nuke all the legacy locations is a choice I won't ever understand. It's like it is not for the fans and it's not for the new people but a secret third thing.

[mohntilyet]

literally cannot remember if this is already a post you made but do u think about if illario was a companion character and lucanis wasnt (maybe still rescued from the ossuary, maybe not). would he even be a viable companion character. etc.

i think i've mentioned it in tags but god yeah i've been thinking about companion illario. through bias and visions i think he could have made a really great companion!!!! i just don’t think we had enough who lie to/betray you in veilguard and i was like illario would love to do this <3 or at least TRY to do this and find that he can’t, because the betrayal-according-to-approval mechanic would return in this concept. this assumes a lot of things that i consider to be canon, including that illario’s a genuinely good assassin (YMMV on this i think. i look upon him with rose tinted glasses) but we’re introduced to illario as the second-best option who accompanied lucanis on various mage-killing quests.

he’s recruited in minrathous and not treviso because he’s been killing venatori like a man crazed. i forget who made the post but the one about how veilguard recruitment quests feel forced because you are recruiting, when stumbling on the right people could have felt more organic and a lot less formulated. he’s been operating in minrathous as the ‘demon of vyrantium’, which he admits to rook that he’s not the original. the original was lucanis, who was captured and killed by the venatori, and in his grief, has been trying to kill the magister (zara) that killed his cousin. he’s actually very nice and fun for an assassin, but players get the feeling that the charm is practiced, and there are glimpses into the “something rotten” under the surface.

what the players also do not know is that his hatred for the venatori is definitely projecting his guilt, because even in this au, illario is the guy who originally betrayed his brother and his complexes (slash pos slash hot slash i often picture him on his knees) remain. anyways. plot breakdown under the cut because its so fucking long and please take with a grain of salt because this was workshopped on a call with fie, who ‘yes and’s everything i say, so it might not be the greatest plot ever. nor very coherent. however, this is my blog and i can say whatever i want

act one recruitment: hunting down and killing zara. there’s foreshadowing here or something where she definitely recognises him and the facial animation leans towards “betrayal”. like zara saying “you?” in a way that can be mistaken for fear, when it’s recognition and betrayal + illario killing her before she can reveal anything else. they find evidence that lucanis is still alive and you see how excited he is, but also very conflicted. illario finally returns to treviso, and you immediately see the favoritism when he informs caterina that lucanis could still be out there. caterina delights in the idea of her favorite weapon back in her possession, and illario swears to bring him back.

in between: there’s a venatori leak! the magisters send some back up to weisshaupt which makes things a lot harder for the veilguard (miniboss before ghil?), and it contributes to failing to strike at ghilanain. but who could it be? everyone is a bit wary of each other, and causes friction.

act two: the ossuary <3 inexplicably, illario has found where lucanis is. the veilguard fights their way in and out, escaping with lucanis and destroying the vial of blood. they also find out lucanis is possessed, and when they return to treviso, after the shock and relief leaves, there’s a gleam in caterina’s eyes. illario is moved up in line of succession because caterina can’t see an abomination becoming talon (canon not discussing that he’s fucking possessed pisses me off so bad btw), and she’s obviously envisioning a world where lucanis’ leash is passed onto the grandson she’d seen as lesser, but has recently proved himself better than she had previously judged. suddenly, illario has everything he’s ever wanted, but not in the way he’s wanted it. he’s never wanted to necessarily be greater than, and doesn’t want to lose him. illario is very uncomfortable about becoming a new caterina to lucanis, but can’t express himself or explain it because he’s deeply repressed and he’s trying to be happy because, isn’t this what he wants?

in between: illario’s acting super weird. a high approval illario is a lot more awkward and doesn’t seem to know what to say, which is a first for him. he’s obviously putting on a brave/pretty face on, and hesitates to say something— but finally just thanks rook for helping him get lucanis back. a low approval illario is actually much happier, smiling and laughing and delighted by the way things have gone, with rook/the player none the wiser about what’s happened. (kind of like… bull’s reaction to the chargers in the dreadnought quest being positive either way, but the repercussions come later)

if you are in a romance, a low approval illario will trigger a sex scene, a high approval illario does the dellamorte branded “lean in for a kiss but he can’t bring himself to actually follow through and leaves rook awkwardly”. the differences in reaction would ideally confuse and interest players :)

act three: hinges on approval rating. illario plotted to trade rook’s life for lucanis’. the venatori at weisshaupt was supposed to be their shot to kill them, but failed to do so, and now they’re forcing him to make good on his deal. there’s a cutscene where the party is led into a trap and a high ranking venatori magister— the one who actually experimented on lucanis (because zara is like a middle man. she wants the blood but isn’t the evil mage scientist who did all the experiments)— shows himself and reveals everything illario has done. he was the one behind lucanis’ initial ‘death’. how the venatori leak was him. illario is desperately trying to keep the venatori’s mouth shut, but the magister is tricking him with magic as he tries harder and harder to keep his cover. a fun, trippy kind of sequence where there are illusions and mindfucky magic as illario stabs at the magister and finds out he’s attacking air, and the party keeps getting attacked with magic that they can’t figure out is real or not until it hits them, in this hall of mirrors type freakshow. it splits into two different paths:

low approval: the deal to save lucanis over rook was made early on, and nothing they have done has made illario think differently. he’s scripted to be more defensive and try to stop the magister from speaking, ignoring the party and thinking only about how he can keep his secrets but failing to. he’s angry that his plans have fallen down around him, and attacks both the party and venatori, determined to keep his failures from reaching anyone else (god forbid it reach caterina). the party are forced to kill him when he turns on them, willing to work with the venatori to keep the power he has before it slips away from him again.

high approval: everything they have done has made illario think differently and he’s spent ages regretting and trying to find a way out of the deal (see: the distress he feels right after becoming first talon, interesting codexes, etc). he’s scripted to defend rook from magic, at cost to himself, physically protecting his friends/rook from the magister and getting in the way of spells. he admits what he’s done and pleads with them to help him, despite having no reason to trust him. after the party fights the magister off together, illario begs for forgiveness, explaining himself, how regret couldn’t make up for what he’s done but he’s still tried to change things, change himself. but how could you ignore the feeling that, as with everything else in his life, that this is another lie? you get the choice to trust him and forgive him, or kill him for betraying the veilguard. i think this can hit harder if he’s romanced and you forgive him. the image of him pleading literally on his knees is about to get me to black out, followed by a rook who gets down on the ground and lowers themselves to his level just to kiss him before pulling them both up onto their feet again…. its like a ‘i fear to stain your hands with blood’ moment <3

completed companion quest: faced with compassion that he’s basically never extended to anyone, illario is inspired. he admits this guilt to lucanis, wanting to make him talon and leave everything behind, and while lucanis initially is obviously both angry and distressed, he later seeks out illario by himself, and their reconciliation happens off screen. i’d love for rook to be there so i could this but i honestly do not think its their place like can we leave the dellamortes to do this by themselves. in private its just a very “you went through hell to get me back. i think i need to give you a chance” + a slow rebuilding of the trust they had. and also lucanis has not even gotten the same outside support system as illario has taken his place and i think it’s good to note that. well. illario is about the most positive his relationships get and the only other person he would potentially have is caterina, who is also a more intense and outwardly scheming in this au. so not to be like “lucanis has no choice” but he kinda has no choice LOL. the point is: lucanis decides to protect him, and says that this betrayal is something they have to keep secret together as long as it safeguards illario, which safeguards himself. like what would the crows think of 1) illario trying to usurp power using an outside source (infighting/betrayal is okay. bringing a third party into crow business is not), 2) illario losing the idgaf war and desperately bringing lucanis back, 3) lucanis being possessed, 4) lucanis forgiving illario despite it all because they’re so codependent they can’t even bring themselves to leave the other. house dellamorte so weak that they can’t snuff out the weakness in each other? oh fucking brother. they can’t let anyone know how dire this situation is, and need to present a united front. also the terrible fact that they love each other deeply remains. mentioned in banter probably? eg:

“So… what do the Crows think?” // “The Crows don’t know.” // “…What? But your brother, and you—“ // “Are keeping it to ourselves. We’ve discussed this. House Dellamorte can’t afford to look divided, not right now.” // “So, what, he just forgave you?! You’re moving on? From trying to kill him?” // “'Forgave' is such a strong word, but maybe someday, yes. And we’re not just family, we’re Antivan Crows. You should know by now that we’re odd like this.”

“Illario. How long do you think you can keep that secret?” // “Considering only us, Lucanis and I know about it, hopefully forever. He insists that no one else has to know. Or should I be afraid that you’re going to go tell on me?” // “No! It’s just… Lucanis doesn’t, I don’t know, want vengeance?” // “Ha! He is the vengeancey one. But no. No, he’s… between the two of us, he’s always been the good one.” // “Lucky you.”

i also picture a lot of post revelations blackwall type banters and maybe something like davrin going “I have to believe you can be better, that you’ve changed. Half the Wardens are like that.” and once again i have to grieve varric because if there’s anyone that would understand lying their ass off and having mixed feelings about their brother, IT’S HIM LOOLLL. i think harding would treat him quite harshly, and neve loses a lot of respect because why would you ever even think about working with the venatori. but there’s a recognition over how he’s changed for the better. i think bellara is the surprise sympathiser, with everything she feels about cyrian. (“For a second, listening to Anaris to be with my brother again was worth it. So… yeah. I get it.” // “You weren’t foolish enough to fall for it. I did.” // “But you’re fixing it, aren’t you?” // “I’m trying.” // “Cyrian tried too. And if I can still forgive him, I can forgive you too.” // “…Thank you.” )

i also think a serious talk about being talon happens, where lucanis doesn't think he should be talon (possessed so his self worth is at an all time low. and also he's always thought illario should be talon anyway) and asks illario to keep the title. which is... weird because suddenly illario realises he doesn't necessarily want to be talon anymore. sure he can, sure he finally has caterina's approval, but he's got a new chance in life and he's not sure he wants to spend his life running an organisation that doesn't even care about him, would betray him first chance they got and remind him of the way he used to be, or see who he is the way the veilguard/lucanis has. his bitterness towards caterina also trumps his envy of lucanis, and the idea of lucanis resenting him as much as he resents caterina is something he'd like to avoid, which is another reason he's uncomfortable with being expected to tug at the leash. indecisive, illario can't quite fully commit himself to the crows, but is nervous about what leaving them would mean.

endgame: he would take lucanis’ place as a magekiller in this ofc, so he’s the guy killing ghil, and (for now….) first talon leading the crows to fight in minrathous (illario: “one of us should probably say something. remind the crows in whose name this fight is to be fought. we are emotional beings after all, and rhetoric is the fuel that feeds the fire—“ viago: “maker’s sake just give your speech”) i’ve also implied romance throughout this ask while not discussing it properly (ask me about it later. i need time to think on the whole romance arc and beats i know it exists but i refuse to give out half baked illario thoughts.) and i think the endgame post-fade prison talk would be very sweet and so intensely genuine/sincere and illario’s half struggling with being this truthful but pushes through because he wants to say “i love you” and really mean it. almost losing rook has put his priorities in order, and rook is at the top of this order, which has made him reevaluate everything else in his life and realise, "i don't think i can live without you. please don't make me". it’s fun for me that lucanis’ romance is a first in many different ways, but for illario it would be the first time experiencing actual romantic feelings for someone that he’s not faking, so you can imagine the damage its wrecking on his crow-psyche. sometime here i think there’d also be a decision where he’d ask to leave the crows and be with rook, tho i also think if given the chance to develop he could actually find something he cares more about than being first talon. genuine affection might kill him, reciprocated affection would probably be the nail in that “fuck the crows actually i just found out i like life outside of treviso” coffin.

but this is kind of leaning towards “illario only leaves the crows if you romance him” which i don’t like the sound of. he should be able to do that without a romantic relationship. i think narratively the best way to end this arc is for illario to leave the crows after having found alternatives to what he believed his life should amount to (as i think lucanis should have in veilguard), but i also don’t exactly know how to end it. i do want house dellamorte to be defunct, like an ‘illario leaves, and so does lucanis’ thing, where even lucanis gets the chance to grow out of believing “death is his calling”. i also like the idea that illario, ever the extrovert, gets real friends and is like “LUCANIS. you gotta fucking experience this” LMFAO. i’m thinking maybe the companion you spend most time with illario in the party after his act 3 quest starts to suggest things, so neve being like “you made a pretty great demon of vyrantium. consider making venatori-killing your full time job, you were good at it, despite all the traitor stuff.” or taash going “you know, you wouldn’t be the first lord of fortune to make mind numbingly stupid mistakes. drop by sometime. you and isabela can bond over it.” and they’re half joking but it makes the cogs in illario’s mind turn where he’s like “whoa. i could just. stay with the people who like me!” and where he goes is mentioned in the epilogue. a romanced illario would potentially just join the faction rook is a part of, tho a de riva would probably be unique in choosing if they want to remain a crow.

HOWEVER. i honestly don’t know if this is in character. fie and i convinced ourselves it was but i’ve had some time to really chew on it and idk if he’d want to give his ambitions up?? if someone has managed to read on this far, feel free to suggest things if you like i am always stumped because i don’t actually want to crows to stop being an assassin house, and there’s ofc no way to really make them ‘softer’ without taking away the bite that makes them interesting to play with. but extricating the dellamorte cousins from this WHILE feeling true to dragon age writing is difficult lol. just let me think. i’ll be back with some results hopefully.

side note: if illario is killed, lucanis takes his place with some difficulty (spite getting in the way, and no relationship building as he would get in canon) especially because despite his incredibly complicated feelings about his cousin trying to kill him, all of his anger is directed at rook for actually killing him. it doesn’t matter if lucanis would/could have never forgiven him, or otherwise, rook has taken that chance of hashing it out with illario from him completely, and lucanis won’t forgive them for it.

anyways the potential endings and first talons:

lucanis defaults into first talon if illario is killed as the only remaining heir, and struggles in this role alone, though the fact he is an abomination helps keep the crows in control for a while #cycles #snakethateatsitsowntail #housedellamorteissocooked

illario can remain first talon if encouraged to stay during the endgame, or if romanced by a rook de riva that also chooses to stay with the crows. depending on how the crow missions were complete, his direction with the crows either hardens/softens the organisation.

teia becomes first talon if illario decides to leave the crows, and rook has made choices that lean towards ‘softening’ the crows, eg. sparing ivenci to humiliate him, helping the crow-venatori loves run away, being kind towards jacobus, etc. the crows gain a reputation for coercion and can once in a while be found targeting, killing or exposing corrupt officials.

viago becomes first talon if illario decides to leave the crows, and rook has made choices that lean towards ‘hardening’ the crows, eg. killing ivenci to humiliate him, turning in the crow-venatori lovers, being harsh with jacobus, etc. the crows gain a reputation for efficient, quick assassinations that tip the scales towards anyone who can pay for their services.

if missions were not complete, the antivan crows’ reputation falls as they get sloppier, unable to recover from their losses and struggling to keep ahold of their power. there’s a reshuffling of talons, but the crows are in such disarray that it takes a decade for them to recover and gain back the effeciency they used to be infamous for.

ANYWAYS. sorry for that it is actually getting away from me and i don’t know how much of this is clear and how much of it is just my wishful thinking. i think there’s enough good things here to publish as an answer tho i’m aware this plot is kind of dollar store zevran LOL. maybe the best way to describe it is that i’ve accidentally combined blackwall, bull, and zevran’s arcs into this. hope this is at least a bit compelling for you anon!!!!!

[messylustt]

Heyy!! I Hope you’re doing well and have/had a great day🥰

I wanted to request a ghostface ethan x reader smut oneshot and to be honest I don’t really have a exact idea but I just love the way you write and portrait ethan and I also think you are one of the only ones that also write him as a Dom :)

Maybe you could throw in some degrading and choking or some public sex if ur comfortable with that ofc!

Here’s kind of a „idea“ but you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to:

Reader and Ethan are in the same friend group ofc but they really hate each other (Ethan is ghostface) and idk maybe when the ghostface attacks begin (scream 6) one time where reader is walking home or something she gets a call from ghostface (Ethan) and first he’s like trying to scare her but reader isn’t that intimidated since she survived before (scream 5) and she’s also a bad ass and then gf (Ethan) randomly starts flirting with her/ dirty talking and the reader kinda goes with it since she has a bit of a thing for gf and then when she’s in a ally gf pops up and it comes to smut somehow and just before reader is about to cum, Ethan reveals himself?

(Oh and I would still love to see the bickering and fighting with Ethan and reader before the gf smut? If that’s okay with you)

I am so sorry, that got so long omg- 💀

THANK YOU ALREADY IN ADVANCE!!🫶🏻

nothing's too long babe! love this plot. meanish banter is MWAH

behind the mask — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : you don’t realise that ghostface is your enemy ethan until you’ve gone too far.

contents : slight choking, fingering, semi public sexual stuff (in an alleyway), enemies to kinda enemies who want to fuck, dub con, finger sucking. wc 2.7k

"Which brings us to our suspect list," Mindy spoke, as the entire group sat at a campus off to the side and away from prying ears.

Ethan mockingly coughs, before muttering your name. You shoot him glare. "I'm sorry, who here has survived a Ghostface attack, that's right, not you." You bite at Ethan, adjusting yourself on the bench.

Ethan rolls his eyes. "And you survived pathetically." He mutters.

"Excuse me?" You snap your head back to Ethans direction. You'd never liked this boy, almost too "innocent", and always playing the victim.

"The only pathetic one here is you, Ethan." You hated each other. You could never pinpoint why, just the fact that you did. And everyone knew it. Your smile would always drop when he walked in, your tone turning sour. And Ethan's comments became harsher the moment you said anything.

Chad was surprised by how heated Ethan's anger for you was. He'd never seen the boy say such mean things with such confidence, its like he was a different person when you were around.

"Alright, you two can bicker later." Mindy quickly chimed in, continuing on with her suspect list. She faced Ethan who still had a scowl on his face. "Ethan, the shy, dorky guy, whose so shy and dorky that no one would ever suspect him."

You scoff. "You left out sad and alone." You comment, making Ethan shoot you glare to which you mockingly smiled.

You turn your attention to Mindy. "Don't waste your time on him. He doesn't have the guts to be Ghostface."

Ethan was offended, more than by any other comment you'd thrown at him. Didn't have the guts? He internally scoffs. Maybe he should cut out yours to replace his supposed faulty ones.

As Mindy went to speak on Quinn's sexual habits, tagging her as a suspect, you could feel Ethan's eyes burning holes into the back of your head. You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, before muttering 'what?'

He narrows his own, dragging his gaze along your face. He leans closer to whisper. "You look like you came out of hell."

"Mm, and I'd love to send you there." You hissed back, staying quiet so as not to ruin Mindy's ranting. She can get quite mean when you interrupted her passions.

"You could try." Ethan says, as you turn your head to fully face him. Your faces were close, scowls very present.

"I would try and succeed, Ethan. We both know I'd win."

Ethan scoffs in your face. "You seem awfully confident."

"Again who here has survived a Ghostface attack?" You ask tilting your head. "I can promise it means I have a streak for winning, and I happen to be rather competitive." You lean even closer, whispering in his ear. "You don't stand chance, sweetheart." You mock out the pet name, noticing the way his body tenses. Most likely out of anger.

You lean back putting your full attention on Mindy.

;;

The streets were decently busy with costumed poeple, laughing and joking. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Bringing it out you didn't bother checking the number assuming it was someone from your friend group checking you got home. "I'm fine, just walking—"

"To your apartment, I know." But the voice isn't one of the twins or the sisters.

"I'm sorry, I thought this was someone else." You say, skeptically. You gaze around, trying to see if anyone looked suspicious with a phone. Then when he spoke again, you finally realised and recognised the voice.

"You won't find me." A deep chuckle follows. Ghostface. You immediantly straighten, feeling the familiar shivers wracking your spine.

You clench your jaw. "I don't have time for this."

"Oh, no, you have plenty of time." Ghostface replies. "Because all you're going to do, is walk home, take out another tub of icecream and stare at men you can never have on the screen."

You open and close your mouth, feeling partly offended and the other part nervous. How would he know that? "Why'd you call?" You steer the conversation elsewhere, but Ghostface doesn't seem to want to, continuing on.

"You'd be wearing those little shorts that cover nothing, with that top that shows just how cold you usually are." You pause, swiftly trying to spot him on the street.

"You don't know that."

"Don't I?" You clench your teeth, because you did wear shorts for bed, and yes, they may be on the looser side, but it's not like you went out that late. You stayed home alone. Or so, you had thought.

"You're a creep."

"You sound surprised." Ghostface replies. "You shouldn't be. Though I guess there isn't too much going on in the pretty head of yours."

A snarl edges your lips. "You think you're so high and mighty, being a copycat to murderers who lost." You remind him.

"It's called carrying on the legacy." He quickly remarks, making you scoff. You had quickened your steps across the streets, deciding it best to get inside your apartment and behind a locked door.

"That "legacy" as you call it, sucks." You say, hearing a chuckle in repsonse.

"Does it? Because if I remember correctly, you always felt a shiver run down your spine when you heard my voice." He pauses, his smile practically seeable. "And not in a terrible way at all."

You gulp. "Now you're just making up shit."

"Really?" Ghostface probes. "So you don't feel all hot right now? A small rush from speaking to me, one that makes you excited. You don't feel that?"

Your mouth has dried, as you try to cool your body down, noticing how it—especially your core—heated up as the conversation continued. "Well, I'm sorry to say. But you're wrong. Very wrong."

"Do you want me to find out?" Ghostface asks, making you stop your steps, swiftly glancing around, your chest starting to heave quicker. "Because I'm afraid, I don't believe you, sweetheart."

"Is this some new tactic. Get me vulnerable in a...different way."

"You think me flirting with you is a tactic? Poor girl."

You scoff. "That wasn't flirting."

"Was I too subtle?" He asks, his tone showing his enjoyment.

You grind your teeth, having to stop, as a large group of what appears to be Halloween market-goers blocking the path. "Excuse me." You try, pushing past people, but they don't budge making you scowl at them.

"Are you stuck?" You can hear Ghostface say on the other line. "Do you need help?"

"Hang the fucking phone up. And stop acting like some scary villain, when you're really just some third grader doing prank calls." You hiss, trying again to push past the loud crowd.

Ghostface chuckles, as you end up getting pushed aside against a stall, making you curse. "You seem to have a lot of incorrect assumptions." He begins. 'I'm getting quite offended here."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." You sarcastically say, trying again to weave through the growing crowd.

"You're rather mean actually." He mockingly pouts out.

"And you kill people. Are we done?" You ask, getting exasperated by the phone call and the rude people.

"Not even close." And then you hear the beep of an 'end of call', making you bring the phone away. But before you can do anything more, a hand grabs your arm yanking you through the crowd. You gasp as bodies collide with your fast moving one.

You can't see a thing before you're pushed up against a cold wall, finally away from the crowd, but now in a dark alleyway. You finally see the white mask of Ghostface as he cages you against the wall.

Your chest is heaving as your breathing stutters out, everything having happened extremely fast. Ghostface tilts his head as you hear a dark chuckle breaking through the modulator. "You are stupidly confident."

Words get caught in your throat as you try to swallow something down. "Aw, cat caught your tongue?" He coos, his gloved hand dragging across your neck, making your entire body stiffen. Everyone knew that if you got a call from Ghostface you were marked to die. And here he was, probably preparing to gut you.

You quickly shut your eyes, seeming the only thing you can control at the moment, because you weren't dumb enough to think you could bypass him and run. There's a moment where you just hear Ghostface's heavy breathing, as the distant sound of the halloween market goes on behind you both.

Then you feel the rough material of his glove slowly dragging across your bottom lip. You swiftly open your eyes shocked. You can feel your pulse beating everywhere—everywhere. You can't tell what Ghostface is thinking or where he's looking because of his stupid mask. You tried to see through the thin material made for the eyes but it's too dark to pinpoint anyone's eyes.

"So stupid." He quietly says, almost to himself as his finger drags across the in between of your lips, getting your spit on his finger. You don't know what to do. You don't know what's going on. Why isn't the knife inside you?

Then his hand leads down to grip your neck, beginning to tighten, as your hands quickly fly up to grab his wrist. His other hand is placed by your hip, keeping you trapped. "You're always so arrogant." He says, tightening a fraction. Your throat feels small as your breaths grow shorter.

You dig your nails into his arm and wrist trying to pull him off you. But he doesn't budge, his other hand now grabbing at your waist. "But also so dirty." He husks out, as he pulls your hips to press against his, making a choked gasp escape you. He finally loosens his hold on your throat, just enough so that air can get in much easier.

"What would your friends think, knowing you have a thing for a killer in a mask? The killer in a mask." He sneers, his hand at your waist travelling dangerously low, now reaching your inner thigh.

"What—" But you cut yourself off as Ghostface pulls your legs apart, lifting one to rest on his hip. Your eyes widen upon feeling how hard he is against your shameful, throbbing pussy. His hand drops down to feel your wetness through your panties, your skirt having bunched up by your hips at the compromising postion.

Your mouth is open in shock. Ethan behind the mask stares at you, as he feels just how turned on you really are. His chest is heaving, as his bulge begs for attention. Why was he grabbing you like this? He hated you. He had wanted to scare, if he ended up particually mad possibly kill you, hurt you maybe. But certainly not touch you.

But as he had begun to realise your very secret crush on Ghostface he used it to his advantage. But in the process of thinking what a slut you are, he began to think on how you could be a slut for him. Begging for him to touch you as pathetic whimpers and moans escaped you. How pathetic you'd look all for him.

His grip around your neck tightened before loosening, moving up to your open mouth as he stuck two fingers in, wanting to feel your mouth wrapping around them, wanting to see your spit on his glove. "Suck them."

Your eyes stayed wide, as you stared at the now very intimidating Ghostface. You slowly closed your mouth around his fingers as your tongue began to circle the tangy tasting farbic. "That's it..." He breathes as he began to thrust them in and out of your mouth, your spit now coating your lips as you sucked. "Look at you, such a slut for a mystery guy with a knife."

Behind the mask, his eyes had hooded, his cock now aching at the visual. You were powerless against him, and that rush made him, bypass your panties, reaching to drag his gloved finger right up your slit, spreading your wetness around. Your hips jolted into him as he rubs over your clit, a sound that seemed close to a whine coming out muffled through his working fingers.

As Ethan watched you suck his fingers, while he rubbed your aching pussy he felt this need to kiss you, lick up all the saliva that had drippled onto your bottom lip. But he couldn't take his mask of yet. He wanted you to know who was giving you so much pleasure when you were at your peak, begging for him. Ethan felt undeniably smug at the thought of you cumming onto his fingers. The boy you hated.

He then—as compensation for his waiting—thrusted a finger inside you without warning. "God—that was so easy. You're just that wet for me, that your little hole was so eager to let me in." His breath through the mask is by your ear as you shuddered. He pulled his now dripping fingers out of your mouth, spreading your spit across your bottom lip as your dazed gaze makes him move his hand to your neck, loving how small it felt in his grasp.

He grinned behind the mask as he added a second finger, pumping in and out of you. Your hands were gripping at his cloak, your mind a haze of pleasure, as you had begun to grind into his hand. "Fuck, your such a little slut, letting me finger you in an alleyway. Someone could find you, you know?"

A whimper escaped you as he curled his fingers inside you. "Such a naughty girl being so dirty for Ghostface."

"Shit—" You breathed harshly, as his thrusts quickened.

You could feel your stomach contgracting with your impending orgasm, and Ethan could tell by how hard you clenched around his fingers. He stopped inside you, making a pathetic whine leave your lips, your orgasm so so close.

"P-please." You say, breathless, as you try to thrust your hips into his fingers wanting friction. But Ethan just pushed you harder against the wall, keeping you still. He then brought his hand to his mask, finally thrusting his fingers into you again as you moan.

He pulled off his mask, not being able to wait before kissing you. You gasp through the kiss not having expected him to take of his mask, or feel his lips at all. Your eyes had immediantly shut as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue esploring your mouth eagerly.

And as he finally drew back, breath heavy, you met his gaze. You gasped with a mix of suprise, and pleasure. His fingers having quickened inside you. "What—" You choke, as Ethan grins, his curls a mess, as he stays pressed to your shaking body. "E-ethan?'

"Hi, y/n." He grins as your mouth opens in pleasure as you stutter out incoherently. "Shh," Ethan chuckles, curling his fingers inside you. "I didn't know you were such a slut." He says, as the sound of your arousel fills the otherwise distant noises.

"Actually that's a lie," He begins. "I knew how much of a slut you really were, having a thing for Ghostface..." He thrusts harder into you, your stomach tightening.

"Oh god— Ethan—" Pleasure crashes over you as your head hits back against the hard wall, your body shaking as your orgasm courses through you.

"Mm." Ethan hums as he slows inside you, continuing to watch as your face contorts in pleasure, all because of him. "I thought you hated me."

"I did. I do." You quickly say, as your body feels extremely heavy, your mind trying to wrap around the truth that was revealed.

Ethan shakes his head, leaning towards your ear, licking your earlobe. "Then why moan my name?"

"I—" You didn't know what to say. Because you had. And you had felt very far from hatred when you saw his familiar brown curls come into view.

Ethan felt powerful with how stuck you were. Physically and mentally. His breath tickled your now wet ear, his kitten licks having continued. "Do you wanna show me just how much of a crush you have on Ghostface, or do you wanna try and prove how much you hate me?"

You met his gaze and knew you were fucked. Physically and mentally.

A better way to put it would be entirely.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[amanda-519]

Jentry Chau vs. The Underworld Kit rewrite

Listen, I love Jentry Chau vs. The Underworld. I keep rewatching it. Like during random parts of the day I'll think "I want to see this episode/scene again" and go into Nexflix.

And Kit is absolutely my favorite character. Probably one of my top characters in all media. Let's just so great and well written, but because I like him so much I keep rewatching his scenes, and I think he could have been slightly rewritten to be better.

(Spoilers from episode 1 to 7)

I think one of my biggest gripe is how Jentry reacted to Kit's reveal in episode 6 "All's Fair In Love And War", and I don't mean it from a "how could Jentry do that?!?! My poor Kit", but more in a writing way.

See, I never really "got" Jentry's shocked and scared expression at Kit revealing himself. Mainly because of Ed. Jentry is friends with a demon, she lives in a house full of ghosts, and she has powers herself.

A normal person being told that the guy you're crushing on is actually a demon and they freak out makes sense, but Jentry has dealt with so much supernatural such, and is literally friends with a demon, that her fear didn't make sense to me.

Like, yeah, I understand a big part of it was him "lying" to her, and Jentry at that point seemed sick of lies. But it didn't seem that Jentry's main issue was him lying, or even that he worked for Cheng, but that he's not human.

I think this scene could have hit a lot harder if it was more of a personal betrayal, and the fact that Kit is a demon is scary to her.

For example, we see Kit drain Jentry's chi during episode 5 "Some Gui My Prince Will Come". But it doesn't seem to affect Jentry that much? Like she doesn't seem weak or that it really affected her.

So while we, the audience, know in episode 6 that Kit can and has killed people, Jentry doesn't.

I think making it so when Kit drains her chi Jentry feels light headed and her power is weak is a good story choice. Like, it shows that Kit could actually be a threat to her, he can passively steal chi from her and make her weak and unable to use her powers.

The way I see a rewriten episode 5 going is with Kit slowly draining Jentry's chi. Maybe it's even revealed that he's been passively draining her chi the whole time he knew her.

So Kit is passively draining Jentry's chi, and she starts getting weaker and weaker. But as the episode progresses Kit starts having more and more doubts, like in the original. He's starting to come around to the idea that he has a soul.

I could also see that the monster of the week in that episode is someone a bit more frightening. Like, don't get me wrong, I loved Ed's side plot with the demon in this episode, and it could stay relatively the same. Only, maybe near the end, when the ghost is playing in the music room Something Happens that makes her freak out. Someone breaks an instrument or something.

And the ghost freaks out and starts a rampage.

And Jentry tries to step in and help, but so much chi has been drained from her (maybe this is right after the miss scene) that she finds herself dizzy and unable to.

And this freaks Jentry out! She's reminded of that the last time her powers failed her, and Gugu died!!

I can picture a scene where Jentry is lying passed out of the music room floor, the music room destroyed. It's empty, the ghost moving onto the rest of the school with Ed following after her.

All the students have ran away from the ghost, and it's empty. And then Kit appears, and he stays down at Jentry's passed out body.

Cheng is breathing down his neck, saying that they're so close, that all Kit needs to do is feed a bit more and then he'll have his own soul. He'll be human. Kit looks at Jentry's chi and see it flickering.

Kit is left with a choice, does he take the last bit of Jentry's chi and get a human soul? Or does he help her at the cost of never being human?

He chooses Jentry and tells Cheng that he's his not his play thing anymore.

He picks up the passed out Jentry and carries her to safety. When she awakes she hears that Kit saved her, but he's nowhere to be found.

This is Kit's redeeming moment. Where he rids himself of Cheng and helps Jentry. But Jentry doesn't have the context, she was passed out and didn't realize what Kit forsaken for her.

I also think it would be better if in earlier episodes, Kit is a lot friendlier to Jentry. We learn from episode 5 that Kit's whole deal is that his job is to get closer to Jentry so he can drain her chi and give her soul to Cheng.

But it does make the scene in episode 4 "Forgot the Alamo" where Kit and Jentry is on the bus kinda weird. It makes sense for a normal, human Kit to be a bit peeved that Jentry blew off their "date" and burned him. But again, Kit's whole deal is that he wants to kill Jentry (at this point).

I think it would be a lot better if Kit was extremely friendly during the bus scene. Like maybe Jentry is being awkward but Kit doesn't even seem weirded out that she burned her.

This is a subtle clue to the audience that Something is Up with Kit. That a regular person might be a bit wary of Jentry or upset at her ditching him, but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

Though this would come at the cost of the interaction Jentry and Ed have on the bus, and that was one of my favorite scenes. I actually wasn't that big of a fan of Ed during the early episodes, but he REALLY grew on me and became one of my favorite characters, and I think this scene really helped!

Though I guess we could still have Kit leave after smelling the durian fruit. Like maybe skin painters are very sensitive to smell.

I think having it so Kit feels like the one friend Jentry has after the school becomes wary of her would be a better story choice. It feels very isolating that way, like Kit is Jentry's only "true friend" while everyone else is wary of her.

And it makes his "betrayal" sting worse for Jentry! Kit was her only friend! The only one who never seemed afraid of her! But that was all a lie? That he was being friendly just to drain her chi?

It paints Kit in a more... parasitic way, which I think really benefits his character. Instead of Kit simply draining someone's chi all at once, it takes time. It feels like he's a parasite! That he's digging his way into someone's heart only to betray them.

It makes Jentry's anger at him a bit more impactful, I think. It makes sense for Jentry to treat him like a demon then, since he actively drained her chi! "Pretended" to be her friend when she had no one else!

Because, again, I don't think Kit simply being a demon, or working with Cheng, or lying, really feels like "enough" for Jentry to be so angry at him. She even tried to force him into the portal in episode 7!

But Ed is a demon and worked with Cheng in the past, and Gugu lied to Jentry, and Jentry was able to overlook those. So I think having Kit's "betrayal" feel more like a betrayal to Jentry would work better.

Plus, I don't even think you would have to change the episode much. It even makes sense why Ed is so insistent in episode 5 to take on the demon himself, since Jentry is struggling with her powers.

Plus, I feel like it could make sense that Jentry is struggling with her powers and getting light headed to the characters. Like Jentry has been actively suppressing her powers for years, so now that she's finally trying to use them, they're having some draw backs.

Of course, in reality, it's Kit, but it makes sense to the characters to not worry about it too much. (Or, at least, maybe Gugu and Ed don't. Maybe Jentry is worried about not being able to protect herself and her loved ones with her powers freaking out)

[sebscore]

PRIZE OUT

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader 

warnings: rbr. mention of horner and marko. this doesn't really have a plot, tbh- just felt like writing it. 

author's note: idk how this came to me, but it did in the middle of the night and i hope you enjoy it as well. also, the way i keep writing things that no one requested- i know yall hate me. 

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Yeah, I'll let you know. Goodbye, bye.'' Charles hung up the phone, sighing loudly as he put it back in his pocket. His mother watched him, frowning at her son's obvious frustration. ''What is it, Charles?'' She asked him, slight concern in her voice. 

''I have to let them know who my plus-one is for the FIA Prize Giving this week, but I have no date.'' He explained, his hand going through his hair. 

Pascale chuckled, relieved it wasn't some bigger issue her son was dealing with. ''I thought you were about to reveal a big crisis to me, but it's just about finding you a date.'' She laughed, much to Charles' dismay. 

''It's serious, Maman!'' He exclaimed. ''Normally I would take Charlotte, but you know…'' the couple hadn't split for too long, the topic still a bit sensitive for him, ''maybe you can go with me? You love Italy!'' 

The offer was tempting, but Pascale had a better idea. ''How about you take your sister with you? She likes dressing up and the two of you will get to spent some time together.'' She suggested. 

Charles thought for a moment, thinking about the idea. His little sister would indeed enjoy going to a formal event like this and with her by his side, it would be way less boring than usual. 

''Yeah, I'll ask her.'' He smiled. 

His mother walked over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, putting her arms around him. ''Oh, that's so great! My two babies!'' Pascale beamed. ''And she's been so stressed with her exams coming up, it will take her mind off of that.'' 

''I'll go ask her then.'' Charles got up from his seat, wanting to move to his sister's room. However, his mother's voice stopped him in his tracks. ''Oh, don't forget that we have dinner with Ollie's parents Monday night.'' She told him. 

''I didn't know about that.'' He furrowed his eyebrows, confused on why this is the first he has heard of it. 

''That's why I'm telling you about it now.'' Pascale retorted, matter-of-factly.

Charles had the urge to roll his eyes, but managed to hold himself in. ''So who's coming? The five of us, and then him and his family?'' 

''Y/N, me, you, Lorenzo and Arthur is also bringing Carla, and then Ollie is coming with his parents.'' She replied, getting up from the couch. 

''Aren't they from England?'' 

''Yeah, but they're in Monaco for the Formula 3 Prize Ceremony on Sunday.'' Pascale clarified for him, amused by his attempt to appear uninterested. ''Charles, I know you're not too happy about your sister dating, but he's a good kid and I want you on your best behaviour Monday.'' 

''I just don't want her to get hurt. This is her first relationship and it's long distance so I'm just looking out for her.'' Charles didn't have anything against the young Brit, he really didn't. Ollie is a polite guy and from what he has seen, he has a bright future ahead of him as a driver.

But he's her big brother and even the mere thought of his baby sister getting hurt by anyone breaks his heart. Charles knows she'll have a hard time with Ollie being away so much, because he knows the experience himself. Yes, there are many drivers who are able to make long distance relationships work, but most of them are adults. She's 17 years-old and still in school, she shouldn't be stressing about what her boyfriend is up to on the other side of the world. 

''Trust me, Chérie- I don't want her to get hurt either, but we can't stop her from experiencing life. Whatever is meant to be will happen, whether it works out with the kid or not. Until then, I want everyone to be as supportive as they can be.'' Pascale understood his worries, she shared them with him. Y/N is her youngest and only daughter, she wants to protect her girl from all the evil in the world. However, shielding her away from everything will do more bad than good. 

Charles nodded at her words, knowing she's right. ''I know, I am supportive of them, but if that little guy makes her cry, I'll give him something to cry about.'' He tried sounding scary, clenching his jaw. 

His mother simply laughed. ''I think that 'little guy' is a bit taller than you, Charlie.'' 

''Oh, whatever.'' 

''That's the Red Bull car?'' Y/N observed the winning machinery that was displayed for everyone to see at the FIA event. 

Charles looked from his sister, to his rivals' car, to her again. ''Yup, that's the one.'' 

''It's kinda ugly.'' The blunt comment made the Ferrari driver snort, garnering some weird looks from bypassers and other drivers. 

''Be careful, Y/N!'' He hushed her, putting his hand over her mouth. ''Don't get us in trouble.'' 

''It's the truth, though.'' 

''I know, but just keep it in your head.'' 

The siblings walked further into the building, Charles greeting some people he recognised here and there. Y/N held onto her brother's hand for dear life, her anxiety going through the roof. It wasn't just the large space with all the strangers that was freaking her out, it was also the new pair of heels she was rocking. 

Charles glanced at the shoes. ''Why didn't you wear flats? I don't want you to break your ankles.'' 

''I wanted to look a little taller next to you and they go well with my dress.'' She answered him, a bit agitated by his questioning. ''Let's link our arms, if I fall- you fall.'' Y/N did as she said and put her arm around Charles'. 

Her brother laughed, momentarily patting her hand. ''How about no falling at all?'' 

They arrived at the big hall where someone led them to their seats at one of the many tables present in the room. Seated on the table next to them was the RBR family: Max, Checo, Christian Horner, Helmet Marko and their significant others who subtly greeted the Leclercs upon seeing them. 

''You look really pretty, Y/N.'' Kelly complimented the young girl as they walked past them. 

Y/N shyly smiled at the older woman, surprised at the sudden praise since the two of them haven't had many interactions throughout the years. ''Thank you, you too.'' She politely replied. 

''Hey, how are you?'' Max focused on her when his small talk with Charles was done, sticking out his fist for a bump. 

Both Leclerc siblings chuckled at the greeting. ''I'm good and you?'' She didn't leave him hanging and gently bumped her fist with his. 

''I'm great.'' The dutchman smiled. 

The youngest Leclerc remembered how she would taunt Charles by running after him while shouting Max's name, knowing it would annoy her older brother- especially if he had just lost to him in karting. She found it funny how they're still rivals after all these years. 

''Congratulations on your championship.'' Y/N quickly told him before following Charles to their seats, not wanting to lose her brother in the crowd. 

Max thanked her, but she was already gone and didn't hear it. The Red Bull driver was very fond of the young girl, because he had known her since she was a toddler. He would always remember how Charles would take her on the podium with him if the Monégasque had won, and that one time a 7 year-old Y/N gave him a high-five despite having won against her brother. 

''This shit is really boring.'' Y/N whispered as the two hosts started announcing a new category, a yawn almost escaping her mouth. 

Charles chuckled, feeling the exact same way about the event. ''I have to get up to give the 'Rookie of the Year' award in a few minutes so I'm just trying to look alive.'' 

''Who won it this year?'' She asked him, not aware of the winner. 

''Zane Maloney, he was second in the F3 championship,'' he answered before smirking, ''oh, he finished in front of Ollie.'' 

Y/N gave him a side-eye, unimpressed by her brother's teasing. ''Yeah, by like 2 points.'' 

''Maybe you should have dated Zane instead.'' Charles continued, still grinning like an idiot and raising his eyebrow. 

''How many points were there between you and Max again?'' 

''I gotta go now, I think.'' Charles got up from his seat, looking mildly annoyed by his sister's comeback. Meanwhile, Y/N had a satisfied expression on her face knowing she pissed her brother off. ''He's so stupid.'' 

''You had fun tonight?'' Charles asked her on their drive back to his home in Maranello, his tailored Ferrari jacket draped over her as the coldness of the night settled in. 

Y/N nodded her head, a tired smile on her face. ''Yeah, it was funny seeing you on the stage.'' 

''You kept laughing at me! You know how hard I was trying to keep my laughter in?'' He exclaimed, recalling his sister distracting him while he accepted his award. ''And you were filming it as well!'' 

''Of course I was,'' Y/N cackled, ''it's for mum.'' 

''Well, I'm happy you had a good time at least.'' Charles grinned, his tone changing from offended to loving. 

The youngest hummed, a comfortable silence falling upon them. 

''Are you, uh, gonna be home Monday?'' Y/N interrupted the quietness, a hint of nerves in her voice. 

Charles confusingly glanced at his sister. ''Yeah, we're having dinner, haven't we?'' 

The unexcited sound of his voice made her roll her eyes. ''You sound very excited about, thank you so much, Charles.'' Y/N told him, sarcastically. 

''I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like that- I am looking forward to it, it's gonna be great.'' He apologised, his arm going over her shoulder. 

Y/N nodded to his words. ''I hope so, Ollie's very nervous about it.'' 

''Why?'' 

''Cause he says Arthur has been acting weird with him, and he thinks you and Lorenzo absolutely despise him.'' Ollie's concerns over her brothers had greatly upset her, the sad look on his face when he told her breaking her heart. 

Charles felt guilty upon hearing his sister's answer. ''I don't despise him and neither does Enzo, and Arthur is always weird,'' he denied her words, ''I'm sorry that we made him worry about that, that's not our intention- he's a good guy.'' 

''I don't need everyone to be like best friends, but he shouldn't be shitting his pants any time you guys come near him.'' Y/N joked, although there was a truth to her words. 

Her brother squeezed her hand. ''We like him, alright? 

''That makes me happy.'' She said, a genuine smile on her face. 

''But if he makes you cry-''

''Yeah, you're gonna give him something to cry about- mum already told me.'' 

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[vampyrevogue]

- anon

i saw your introduction and that you were happy to take requests/asks and i know you did preface that you weren't used to writing smut and that's a–okay i just have an idea which is stuck in my head about Aemond Targaryen

fem!reader (not !niece/cousin/aunt/sister dynamic) giving Aemond a handjob, can be set in his quarters or the council table and she's spreading his legs, parting his knees and thighs, palming him from outside his clothes, thumbing his tip, tracing the vein under, and squeezing the base when he's about to come! maybe some overstim and edging? and he's not a full sub? like he's allowing reader to be 'on top'/domming him but he can switch it around with a snap of his fingers x also him digging his fingers into the arm–rest/bed sheets (depending on what setting you choose!) and he's letting out short gasps and choked grunts, panting here and there, breathing heavily through his nose etc...

sorry for the long request, i just prefer adding detail so writers, like you, know exactly what to write because i understand how annoying writers block is, also please don't be pressured to do my request – if you don't like it and don't wish to write it that's 100% valid x

Thank you for your request anon!! I hope this is to your liking. it’s a bit short and not particularly good but yeah as I said I'm not entirely used to writing smut lol.

𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖞, 𝖁.𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖓

𝔖𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔣

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Betrothed! Reader

warnings: Smut, porn no plot, Handjobs, not proofread.

The days at the red keep were oft gloomy now, the war looming over everyone's head. It had seemingly taken quite the toll on your betrothed, the prince regent Aemond Targaryen, the stress in his eye was evident every time you saw him.

In the past few days, you had seen him very little, a rough comparison of the time you often spent together in the libraries of the red keep. Perhaps that prompted you to visit his chambers this evening, though you surely would not admit that you had missed his presence.

It was late when you snuck into his chambers, dressed in only your nightgown. The fireplace was lit and your eyes found him sitting in an armchair near it. you could sense the stress in the air and wishing to help you made your way over to him, sitting down between his legs.

“My prince, I did not mean to disturb you, tis only that I have missed your presence as of late” you speak with a gentle tone.

He does not respond only humming at your words, his eyes scan over your form for a brief moment.

“I have noticed you are stressed, perhaps I could help,” you say

“And how might you be able to help me?” he questions with a cold and low voice. You tense up at the way he speaks.

“If I may speak plainly, my prince, I could pleasure you..with my hand perhaps,” you say, your voice becoming quiet. you had read of this act earlier in the day, knowing well it would be highly improper of you to give him your maidenhead before you are wed. His eye widens with both surprise and lust as you speak, he contemplates your offer for a moment before nodding.

“I’ll allow it,” he says, his tone still cold. He spreads his legs slightly as your hand moves upward, beginning to palm him through his breeches. His mouth falls open slightly a small moan coming from his lips.

His cock is quick to harden as you reach to unlace his breeches, pulling them down to reveal his leaking length. You wrap your hand around his cock with a firm grip, gently swiping your thumb over the slit in his tip a few times spreading the precum around his length. Your free hand moves to spread his legs further apart as moans and curses fall from his lips, you gently squeeze his length your thumb tracing over the veins that travel along his cock.

“Fuck…” he groans, he leans his head back letting soft moans fall from his lips. his fingers dig into the leather of the armchair and his back arches ever so slightly. you hear his breath become heavier as you fasten the pace at which you stroke his cock. feeling his cock throb heavier than before you pull your hand away for a moment watching his eyebrows furrow, you then return your hand to his length stroking him eagerly as the moans and grunts begin to fall from his lips again.

after a few minutes you begin to feel him throb in your hand, a signal that he is about to cum, you continue with your current pace swiping your thumb over his tip every few seconds. he lets out a broken grunt as ropes of cum shoot from his tip into your palm.

it takes him a few minutes to come down from his high, tucking himself back into his breeches. he smiles at you for a moment.

“I am thankful to you for this, my lady,” he says, his previous cold tone no longer present.

You smile at his statement, “I’m glad to be of service, your grace, I shall make my way back to my chambers now” you say, raising to your feet and giving him a small nod before you turn to leave.

you are surely thankful that your wedding day is fast approaching you think to yourself as you walk through the hallway of the red keep.