#i know in the books he sort of looked after children at some point

[knownoshamc]

I know Armand probably shouldn't be trusted with his partner's children, but I love the idea that he might be actually good with a human child. If Daniel already had a kid in 1978 (or even 1985), it'd be cute to have Armand trying to look after it. Trying to be strict, but just spoiling the kid. And the kid adoring Armand, perhaps? And that daughter sort of remembering Armand but because her relationship with Daniel is shitty she just doesn't mention him but when she sees him again she will have the weirdest of feelings, like "I've seen you before but that's impossible"

There is also potential for Daniel's grandchildren of course.

[initialchains]

would you? | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: luke slowly starts to lose himself but that won’t stop you from reminding him of what truly matters.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: some manipulating and gaslighting if you squint and probably spoilers for the first book but they’re not explicitly mentioned.

a/n: HAPPY HOLIDAYS !! here’s luke as a gift <33 i’ve never written for luke before but he’s my favorite pjo character bc hes such an interesting and complex character aghh. sorry if this isnt as fluffy as you would all want, i promise i’m working on some real luke fluff.

The rays of the rising sun made the lake look far more beautiful than it always does. Sure, you were used to the warm tones that always engulfed Camp Half-Blood and it’s not like the weather ever really changed, at least not unless the gods willed it to, but the colors of the sun reflecting on the lake, the low hum of the wood nymphs singing, and the distant sounds of laughter coming from campers playing volleyball were strangely comforting. 

Well, as comforting as it can be when you’re trying to find some quiet in the neverending fight that was the demigod life. It gets tiring, it always does. The fighting, the studying, the adoration of gods who didn’t even bother to give their children a sign of them caring. It was all so exhausting. 

But there was peace in this small moment. You were sat in front of the lake, your legs crossed as you closed your eyes, trying to enjoy the tranquility of it all. The calm moment didn’t dare to stop your hand from finding a home in the clay beads of your camp necklace and twirling them around, a seemingly normal act to anyone who saw you, that actually was a sign of you being aware of your surroundings, a small sign of the fear you carried around, a fear that had you always prepared to draw your sword in any given moment. Not ever fully in peace. Not unless Luke was there. 

“So you decided to start your morning without me? Ouch,” You turned your head at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, “A knock on my cabin’s door would’ve been enough, you know?”.

“Yeah? And risk waking the million campers that sleep in there? No, thank you. I would like to stay alive for a few more years, please.” You replied with a small smile, looking up to meet Luke’s eyes, his scar being more prominent in the morning, a red color adorning the edges of it.  

He snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes before taking a seat next to you. He was silent for a moment until he muttered softly, “This is a nice view.”

“Oh, definitely. The lake always looks beautiful when the sun hits it the right way. I need to give the Apollo cabin their congratulations and some flowers for having a talented father.” You answered, your hand moving away from your necklace to hold Luke’s.

“Of course, you make my pick-up line about the gods. Can you give me a win over here? I’m trying my best.” He said with a smirk before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. It was a strange sort of thing he always did, even before you two started dating, he’d always find an excuse to hold your hand and give it a quick kiss. 

“I wasn’t going to let you get away with using a corny pick-up line on me, Castellan. At least be original with it.” A giggle escaped your lips, “Also, everything is about the gods, I thought you’d be used to it by this point.”

His face fell for a fleeting second, but he was quick to mask it with a small smile. “Right, everything always is about the gods.” Luke’s eyes moved away from your face, nervously glancing at the lake after his statement. 

You frowned when you heard the tone he used, he sounded almost.. bitter? You couldn’t even explain it. Luke had been acting weird ever since the camp came back from their annual visit to Mount Olympus on the winter solstice. At first, you thought it had something to do with Hermes being a total dick and ignoring him the entire night, not even bothering to give his son a pat on the back or a nod. But you’ve known Luke long enough to know he was past caring about what his father did, he was indifferent to what Hermes did–to what any of the gods did. 

The two of you were silent, sitting side by side in front of the lake in deep thought. He was thinking about gods know what, and you were busy trying to understand what was going on inside his mind. You decided to break the silence first, “You okay?”.

“I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.” 

He was quick to answer. It was almost as if he had rehearsed it and had it scripted beforehand. It was almost as if someone else had told him what to answer. As if he was under someone else's guidance. Under someone else's control. 

“Are you sure? Because it feels like you’re.. I don't know, keeping something from me?” 

“I’m not keeping anything from you. I’m not keeping a single thing.”

“Right. Sorry for asking.”

Luke closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. He ran a hand through his hair and took some deep breaths, his chest moving up and down in a nonexistent rhythm, it was urgent and angry. He took a few more breaths, trying to calm himself before finally meeting your eyes again. 

“I’ve told you countless times to never apologize to me if you haven’t done anything wrong,” He reminded you of the conversation you’ve had millions of times, “Don’t ever apologize to me if you haven’t physically hurt me or something, alright? You’re fine. We’re fine.” 

He continued, “I’d trust you with my life given the chance. I’m not keeping anything from you, angel. You have to trust me.” 

“I do.” 

You didn’t see your boyfriend at all the following days. He always brushed you off by being busy with training or helping Annabeth plan for this week’s capture the flag. You weren’t the only one to notice his slight change of temper and personality, some campers from the Hermes cabin noticed it too. 

He kept pushing harder on his siblings, always insisting on them doing better. He was more violent than usual during capture the flag, not thinking about it twice before proving why he is the most talented swordsman in the last 300 years.

There was also this one time he volunteered to spar with a new camper.. it didn’t go well. He kept doing new maneuvers and techniques most campers didn’t even recognize, refusing to go easy on the poor thirteen year old girl. When you asked him about it, confused at the way he went too hard on the newbie, he answered with a dry “Where’s the glory in that? She needs to be prepared for what’s about to come.” It sounded as if he knew some kind of danger was approaching. As if it was a matter of life and death for the camper to learn how to fight against him.

You decided it was enough when you saw him skipping his daily chat with Annabeth, deciding he would rather sit by himself on the steps of the Big House for a little while. 

The walk from your cabin to the Big House was filled with self-doubt and twirling the beads of your necklace, you were nervous to face your boyfriend, which was stupid because he was the last person you’d ever expect to feel nervous with. When you arrived to the steps of the Big House and saw him sitting there, your mind went completely blank. 

You sat next to him and asked the first thing that came to your mind, “Would you rather fight 3000 ant-sized chimeras or a chimera-sized ant?”. 

An amused laugh bubbled up from Luke’s chest before he turned his head to face you, a smile taking over his handsome face. “I’ll take the 3000 chimeras, no doubt.” 

You smiled back at him, ready to ask him the question you spent the last thirty minutes planning, but before you could open your mouth he said, “Would you rather not be able to consume ambrosia and nectar for the rest of your life or.. see Mr. D without a shirt?”

You threw your head back with laughter, your face going red thanks to the lack of air in your lungs due to the laughs coming out of you, “I’d rather bleed to death without ambrosia than see Mr. D with a shirt.”

“Ditto.”

You decided to indulge in this back-and-forth game, after all, you hadn’t been able to have a real conversation with your boyfriend in days... you’ll take what you can get, “Would you rather not be able to leave camp ever again or turn against the gods?” 

“It would be boring to spend the rest of my life capturing a flag and growing strawberries… so I guess my answer is pretty obvious.” He answered while fidgeting with his fingers.

“You’d choose to turn against the gods?”

“Yup.”

“Huh, I guess capture the flag would be pretty hard when you’re pushing 90.”

Luke was silent, running his eyes through your face before asking, “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

He took a deep breath before replying, “Turn against the gods.”

You were silent for a few seconds, biting your lip and staring into Luke’s eyes, wondering if there was a right answer to this metaphorical question. You decided to give him an answer he’d like but also an answer you meant, “I’d go wherever you go. It doesn’t matter if it is a farm in the middle of nowhere or to the pits of Tartarus. If you’re there... count me in.” 

Luke cleared his throat and a serious look took over his face, “Sure, but if the time to make a choice came… would you go against them?”.

His persistence to try and get you to answer his question was making you nervous. The more he asked you about it, the more it looked like he was genuinely considering it. 

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you nervously played with one of the beads on your camp necklace. He took notice of it. Of course he did, he knew more about you than anyone, probably even more than you know yourself. 

Luke stayed silent at that, a somber look taking over his features, you could tell there was a turmoil happening inside his head. It was almost as if he wanted to let you in on a secret, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I... um. Well, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon—at least not in our lifetime. But like I said, I’d go wherever you go, to Tartarus and back.” 

That brought a smile to Luke’s face, he looked into your eyes, probably looking for signs of you lying but finding none, and took your hand away from your necklace, lacing your fingers with his and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “To Tartarus and back, baby.” 

He brought your hands down before leaning in to kiss you on the lips. There was a sense of necessity to feel your lips against his, he kissed you like the feeling of your lips was his only shot at salvation. He raised his hand to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss, craving the heat he only got whenever he kissed you.

You stopped him before he could take the kiss any further, “Luke, we’re in the middle of camp. There are children around us, if you want to make out at least take me to our spot behind the stables. Holy shit.”

Luke took a second to steady his breathing, “Sorry, angel. I’ll make sure to keep your suggestion in mind for later, though.”

“Shut the hell up, Castellan.”

The two of you spent the rest of your day being busy working on your own stuff. Luke was still sparring with some campers who were brave enough to go against him, and you were hanging out with the Dionysus cabin while they helped grow more strawberries. 

 You found Chris sitting in the amphitheater and asked him if he had seen your boyfriend, he replied with an annoyed, “He’s probably in bed or something, I don’t know.” You decided to not ask Chris if he was okay and walked straight to the Hermes cabin.

A knock on the wooden door was enough to wake your boyfriend up, you were aware of it when you heard a muffled, “Come in”. You found Luke sitting on his bed, his sword in hand while he sharpened it.

So he wasn’t asleep at all, you thought.

“Careful with the sharp part of the blade.” He looked up from his sword when he heard your melodic voice, your words snapping him out of the trance he was in.

“Oh, hi.” Luke put the sword down next to his bunk and moved to lie down, leaving a space next to him for you to join him. He hummed when you laid down next to him, giving a kiss to his shoulder blade and wrapping your arms around his torso. 

He turned to face you, pressing his lips to your forehead with a soft sigh. His eyes closed at the sensation while his hands traveled to your back, looking for ways to hold you closer. His features relaxing when he finally touched your skin. 

You couldn’t keep this weird tension going on between you two, so you decided to bite first, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Once again, he replied in an almost scripted and mechanical way, “Talk about what?”

“The winter solstice visit, you’ve been acting.. different ever since we came back to camp.” 

Luke stiffened next to you, it made your heart drop. You’ve been dating him for a year now, and he had never been this cold—this uncomfortable around you. 

“I just... I think things are about to change.” He replied in a low murmur, his eyes closing again when you brought your hand up to caress his face, softly tracing his scar with your thumb in a delicate and loving way. Luke let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when he felt your fingers on his skin.

A smirk made its way to your face, “Change? yeah, in your dreams, Castellan. Campers will keep arriving and only 5 percent of them will get claimed, and the others will get thrown into your cabin.. like things always are and always will be. That’s not changing anytime soon.” 

Luke’s hand traced up and down your back in a soothing manner, “Yeah, maybe they won’t. Forget I even said that.” 

“Just because they won’t change, it doesn’t mean we have to accept it, you know?”Luke's eyes snapped up from your hands to meet your gaze, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re all on the same team here. Sure, the gods will never claim most of the campers and we will all probably die before we’re old enough to have children of our own... but is that really all that matters? We have each other. We don’t need them as long as we have the people we love with us.”

Luke tilted his head to the right to press a kiss to the palm of your hand that was caressing his cheek, “I don’t need the gods as long as I have you.” 

“Good to know we’re on the same page, Castellan.”

The two of you went out for a small walk by the lake and sat together in the dining pavilion at night. Your small conversation probably made Luke feel better because he was quick to go back to being himself, he kept greeting every camper he saw and holding your hand, not forgetting to kiss the back of it whenever he had the chance. 

Maybe it was you reassuring him about the love you had for him or maybe it was him being aware of you being willing to drop the gods at any time just to be with him, but he was completely normal during the following days, weeks, and months.

You were sure of it when you saw him walking around with the new arrival five months later, Luke seemed so excited to be showing him around. You greeted the new camper with a small smile when he introduced himself with a “Hi, I’m Percy Jackson.”

[lovebugism]

oh my god absolutely feral for the cynical prompt list PLEASE!!! maybe like bad at feelings/grumpy!r x steve with these vibes?:

• "you.. LIKE ME???" "i'm a little wary but so far, yes."

• "you're my favorite person. i didn't know you could have those."

• i love the idea that although they're cynical they would simultaneously not care to admit it ^ like "okay, yeah, i fell in love. so what???? people fall in puddles, and pools, and you know, other things!!! don't hold this against me!"

or literally anything from that list like i just know you’d eat

hope you like it angel xoxo — you tell steve you love him for the first time in front of all your friends who didn't even know you were dating (grumpy!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Eddie drops off a few Hellfire stragglers at Family Video after a lengthy campaign, you among them. Robin watches you file in with a freckled chin nestled in her palm. “Stevie! Your children are here!” she singsongs in the otherwise empty store, flipping unenthusiastically through an old magazine.

Dustin and Lucas grumble under their breaths about being called children, though you think they’re still very much deserving of the term. Eddie, meanwhile, crosses his leather-clad arms over his chest. “You know I’m older than him, right?” he monotones with squinted eyes. “So that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”

You deadpan from beside him, somehow more stoic than the raucously dressed metalhead. “And also, I’m dating him,” you frown. “So that’d be, like, extra weird.”

Everyone looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, then. Like you’ve just said something awful. 

Steve’s presence saves you, but only for a moment. He comes out from the back wearing a stupid grin on his scruffy face. “Hey, babe,” he greets you first, with a wide hand spread warmly over your back. 

When he ducks down for a fleeting kiss, you can taste the Cheetos he’d been snacking on and the wintergreen gum he’d just plucked into his mouth. The concoction is strange. Maddening, still.

All of your friends leer at you for several long moments. They gape at the two of you in horror, as though there was some kind of truth in what Robin had just announced moments ago — as though you and Steve shouldn’t be kissing at all.

“Wait,” Lucas mumbles, filling the heavy silence. His face twists in confusion a second later. “What?”

Eddie’s pale face contorts in something short offense, like you’ve betrayed him somehow. You sort of did, in a way. You’re Hellfire’s prettiest, grumpiest, weirdest member — you’re not supposed to be dating Steve The Hair Harrington. It goes against, like, every unwritten rule in the handbook. 

“Is this why you wanted me to drop you off here?” he questions, palpably heartbroken. “So you two could— suck face?”

You shrug, emotionless. “Sorta.”

“We have a date tonight,” Steve announces with a proud smile. He squeezes gently at your shoulder, then cowers at the glare you give him. He clears his throat and corrects himself. “Not date.”

You’ve noticed his very strange tendency to call any time you spend together a date. You don’t like that. It makes you feel it’s some kind of appointment you have to book with him — an engagement you have to put too much effort into. Sometimes, you don’t want to go on a date. You just want to sleep over at his place, steal one of his shirts, and raid his kitchen in your underwear. 

Eddie does everything but pout. “But I thought… I thought we came here to bother Steve until he let us take something home for free?” he confesses in a quiet voice.

“We can still do that if you want.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” he frowns.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin shouts, abandoning her magazine and waving her hands in front of her face. “How did I not know about this?”

Steve bounces his shoulder, jostling the nametag pinned to his chest. “You don’t know everything about me, Buckley,” he sasses.

“So… you like him?” she presses, pointing to you and then the boy beside you. “You like Steve? Steve Harrington?”

You swallow hard and hope you don’t look as anxious as you feel. You shrug to feign an air of nonchalance. “I’m still a little wary about it, but, yeah… So far, anyway.”

Dustin’s senses return to him, then. He shakes his curly head in disbelief. “That is just… confounding,” he mumbles to himself.

“And how long has this been going on, exactly?” Robin squints.

“Couple months, I guess,” you monotone.

Steve has a much different, much more enthusiastic answer. 

“Well, if we’re going by the first time I knew she liked me, it’s been five months. But if we’re going by the first time we kissed, it’s been four,” he rambles with his honey eyes flitted to the ceiling. “But if we’re going by the first time she actually admitted she liked me, it’s been… A wonderful six days.”

He flashes you a grin, which you meet with a hardened scowl. “Shut up…” you grumble, but don’t push him away when he cuddles you closer to his side.

“You? And Steve Harrington?” Eddie gapes. “You’re kissing?”

Steve scoffs. “Well, we’re dating Munson. So obviously we’re kissing. Among other things…”

You dig an elbow into his ribs to shove him away. “Do you have a death wish?” you spit, eyes narrowed and bitter, while the boy just chuckles to himself.

“It’s just… weird,” Dustin remarks.

“But, like, a good weird,” Lucas nods. “Like a solar eclipse, sort of weird.”

“Or, like, that one in a billion chance of atoms aligning and your hand going directly through a solid object, sort of weird,” the curly-haired boy adds, punctuating his sentence by slapping the front counter. His palm collides with the hard surface with a resounding thud.

“What did you think was gonna happen?” Steve monotones when Dustin winces.

“Well, impossible things happen all the time, Steve. Including now.”

You start to choke on the attention. The stares are borderline suffocating. A bunch of wide-eyed gazes holding yours until you feel like you can hardly breathe. 

“What’s the big deal?” you blurt before you mean to. “We fell in love. Who cares? Dustin fell into a puddle earlier today— how’s that any different? People fall all the time.”

Dustin’s eyes narrow. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up.”

“Wait…” Steve mumbles, pink lips quirked in a crooked smile. His chocolate gaze glimmers with hope and confusion, eyes darting back and forth between yours. “You’re… You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah?” you shrug, trying not to cower at the way he looks at you. “So what?”

His grin widens. It takes everything in him not to kiss the life out of you then. He settles for a warm squeeze at your shoulder for now. “Nothing. Nothing, I just— I love you back. That’s all.”

The honeyed moment is ended bitterly by the sound of Eddie’s fake gagging. Robin gripes beneath the horrid noise, “You guys are gross…”

Lucas smiles. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Only ‘cause you’re more lovesick than these two idiots,” Eddie scoffs. He saunters away from you and takes the two Hellfire boys by the shoulder, leading them inevitably to the Sci-Fi section. Robin has no choice but to fix her frowning face and smile when a customer walks in.

With the crowd freshly dispersed, and the attention no longer on the two of you, you look up at Steve with a softer look than you’re used to. “Why did you look so shocked?” you murmur, eyes all squishy around the edges. “When I told you that I— that I loved you or whatever.”

“I wasn’t shocked,” Steve laughs and turns to face you fully. “I just… wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

You squint. “So you were shocked?”

“…I guess so. Yeah.”

“Well— you’re like— my favorite person or whatever,” you stumble over your words, finding it suddenly very difficult to meet his gaze. You gesture wildly with anxious hands. “And I didn’t even know you could have one of those, so… By that logic, I figured I must be in love with you.”

Steve grins, maybe bigger than he realizes. It’s all plush and pink and petaled, dripping with an adoration you’re not sure you deserve. “Well, by that logic, I must be in love with you, too, then, huh?”

“Guess so…” you grumble under your breath.

Steve smiles at the distant look of disgust scrunching your pretty face. “You’re so cute…” he mumbles under his breath, pressing a kiss to your pout before you can blink.

[houseofhyde]

thinking abt aemond falling in love w blind!reader.

pairing. aemond x fem!reader warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to friends to lovers, ableism, so much fluff, a little bit of smut, angst (who said that). no mention of the reader's physical description. wrote in one sitting, no edit, we die like real men. wordcount. 3.1k (this was meant to be a short silly drabble) hyde's input. couldn't get this out my mind so, naturally, i'm making it your problem too now. enjoy, muah x disclaimer ! i'm not visually impaired but i do have several family members who are, to different degrees, and i've tried to stay true to what i remember them describing it like to me. the reader in this is completely blind, however, and that is something i do not have any experience in. please, if you feel anything about my portrayal is wrong or offensive, kindly let me know and i will happily fix it <3

the first time you meet is a few days after the events on driftmark.

with his new disability, the septa encourages alicent to change his usual lessons alongside his siblings for ones held with a couple of other impaired children of highborn status living in the keep.

aemond, of course, protests.

nearly kicking and screaming.

yells at his mother that he doesn't want to be thrown in a box with all the other "broken toys".

he ends up going anyway, dragged there by a handful of guards.

sulks throughout the whole first week, sitting alone in a corner.

and he would've continued to do that forever, if you didn't invade his space.

aka sit down next to him and offer him a book.

"go away," he says, the pout on his lips pointing lower to the ground.

"i don't want to," you refute.

"i won't tell you again, go. away."

"who are you to tell me anything?"

it leaves him speechless, because,

who is he? seriously?!

he thinks you have to be some sort of idiot to not recognise your prince

the following days go the same as the first

you sit near him and hold out a book

he tells you to go away

sometimes you listen

(not without first making it clear that you're moving because you want to, not because he told you to)

other days you don't

you just sit there next to him

staring blankly ahead

not even attempting to open the book that sits in your lap

one day, when he's feeling particularly short on patience

(he had his first sparring lesson with ser criston since losing his eye and it went awfully, each hit and stumble he took to the ground made worse by the echo of aegon's laughter ringing out throughout the whole courtyard)

he asks why you never read that book

"are you an idiot, or something? can't you read? is that why you're here?"

despite how smart he is for his age, he seems to not see the irony in him judging you for being part of an impaired group, as if he isn't also right there with you

such introspection would require acceptance of his loss first, and aemond just isn't ready for that.

"i can't read," you confirm

"because you're slow"

"no."

"then why?"

"i can't see the pages," it's the first time he notices that you're not looking at him. you're trying, face turned and eyes pointed in his direction, but you're staring past his shoulder, "i can't see anything."

he feels guilty,

wretched,

and the sickest twist of comfort.

because he understands

or at least he tells himself he does

because he can't see anything either - out of his missing socket, that is.

the other eye can see perfectly clearly how you don't even flinch as you speak about your disability

and that's when the jealousy takes over.

"then what good is it carrying around that stupid book?"

he says it because he wants to be mean.

so mean that you run away and leave him alone to sulk forever more.

but you just sit there, shrug your shoulders and shift the book around in your palm,

"i like to feel the weight of it in my hand. plus, you never know when you're going to need throw it at someone"

he bites his tongue before he can ask how you can hope to hit a target you can't even see.

the hostility remains

for months, years.

but you sit near him,

he stops telling you to go away,

you still offer the book out to him.

he learns your name.

not because he wants to

but because the septa calls it out one day in the classroom

and you're the one that answers to it.

the first time he sees you outside the study room, you're all alone, none of your father's guards around you,

and that's what really makes him stop in his tracks.

"what kind of lord leaves his daughter to wander blindly around the keep?" he almost says with his usual disgust,

until he notices that you don't have your book

and you're crying.

despite his own discomfort, aemond tells himself he has to comfort you.

because he's thirteen, almost a man.

and what kind of respectable man leaves a girl to cry all by herself?

he wipes your tears with the sleeves of his doublet, waits patiently until your breathing slows, then he speaks,

"what happened?"

"it's you," you say it softly, almost like you can't believe he's the one comforting you.

"it's me. now tell me what happened?"

"nothing," you tell him at first,

until he demands the full truth in the name of his father, king viserys targaryen.

"i overheard my mother speaking to my father about me. i didn't mean to! i just wanted to show them how i memorised the path from my chambers to theirs, without an escort. i wanted to prove that i can be useful, and good, and not a burden. i heard them through the crack in their door. she wants him to send me away to join the silent sisters. she says i can't see, so i may as well not speak either. but my father won't listen. he says i'm his daughter, and that he will not send me away. he loves me too much, i worry he'll hate me for it one day."

that familiar guilty feeling creeps in,

the one he's felt lingering on his skin since the day you told him of your visual impairment.

he's suddenly so aware of the fact he can see you,

and your tear-stained face,

and the shades of blue in your dress.

"where is your book?" he asks.

"i dropped it, whilst running through the halls. i just wanted to stop hearing them, i didn't want... i didn't mean to cause any mess, i'm sorry."

in an act that surprises even him, aemond takes your hand in his

and pulls you both to your feet.

he slowly leads you along familiar hallways, turning corners he's turned a million times.

"where are we going?"

"trust me."

you know he's taken you to the library the minute he opens the doors, a whiff of old books hitting your senses.

he guides you to a book shelf, puts your hand up to touch the exposed spines

and tells you to move forward.

"stop when you feel it's right."

you stop after four steps.

your fingers grazing over a book titled Matters Of The Heart: a Compilation of Fictitious Stories on Love and Beauty.

he pulls it out the shelf,

guides you both over to a bench,

open the dust covered book,

and reads to you.

the following day, when your father's guards guides you down next to aemond in the study room

and you hold your book out to him

he takes it,

shuffles a little closer to you,

and softly recites the words off their pages.

from that day forward, you become an infamous pair in the keep.

the one-eyed prince and the sightless girl,

never one without the other.

aemond becomes your shadow, always two steps ahead or behind you.

you pick out books in the library

and he reads them to you both.

he brings you down to the courtyard

and watches how you flinch each time the clack of wooden swords rings out.

it drives him to be better,

learn to see more in his opponents than even two eyes would allow,

just so he can watch how the smile stretches across your face each time he tells you he won.

you grow so close that one day, the king invites your family to join the royals for supper.

aemond tries not to care that you end up sitting so far away from him at the table.

at least he can look down it and spot you seated at your father's side, he tells himself.

when dinner ends and music starts to play,

aemond ceases the chance to sneak away from his seat and steal the empty one by your side, both your parents having stood to speak with the king.

he brushes two fingers along the back of your hand,

a private, tactile language only you two can speak,

one that tells you it's him, without him even having to say a word.

"prince aemond," you say, and he instantly hates hearing you address him so formally. "you look handsome this evening"

"and how would you know that?" there's no hint of the malice, the mockery he once used to speak to you with, back when he was angry little boy and you were a stubborn girl.

now he's a man of fifteen years and anger is far from something he feels next to you.

he watches you shrug and the smile that he likes best - cheeky, playful - slips onto your lips

"my mother won't stop bringing it up. dashing, she said."

"is that so?"

"mhmm. but she also says my father should offer me to your father and have us both wed, what with our cripple-like qualities making us unsuited for any other lord or lady, so, really, what does she know? for all i know, you're the most hideous thing to walk the keep and i should feel blessed that i can't see you."

"imagine how i feel. i still have to see you."

"oh, the horrors! well then, my all-mighty seeing knight-in-eye-patch, would you lend me your sight one moment and tell me."

"tell you what?"

"do i have anything in my teeth?" you bite back your laughter as you open your mouth and put your pearly-whites out on display for him.

he doesn't even care if the sight is unlady-like

or if anyone else at the table has noticed.

he's too busy laughing along with you and telling lies of how a massive piece of veg is stuck between your upper front teeth.

aegon is as aegon has alaways been,

a thorn in aemond's side,

and he makes no exceptions when it comes to you.

he can't help but laugh at you both

mouth stained with wine as he saunters up and leans his face down between you both.

"isn't it amazing how, between you both, there's only one eye that actually works?"

aemond bites his tongue, like he always does when it comes to his brother.

you, however, aren't quieted so easily.

"oh, so amazing! do you know what's even more amazing? how the stench of you always announces your arrival."

it's the first time aemond feels it.

that flutter in his chest.

and once it starts, it doesn't seem to want to stop,

he seeks you out most hours of the day

and thinks of you when he's not with you.

when he notices the bruises that litter your arms

from bumping into corners and walking into walls

he has a cane made for you, to help you more safely make your way through the keep.

it's the greatest gift he can give you: the freedom to walk your own path.

one day, as he's telling you about the recent flight he took upon vhagar, you ask him what the sky looks like.

"well, it's blue"

you blink at him, wait for the ball to drop.

"but you wouldn't know what that means"

he tries to think of something else, a different way to describe the vastness of the sky

"have you ever ridden upon a horse?"

you nod your head

"have you ever ridden fast upon a horse?"

you nod again.

"that feeling, when you're gripping at the reigns, and the horse's hooves beat against the ground like a drum, and the wind takes no mercy on your hair, and, for a moment, there's this... warmth of possibility, anticipation, right here" he guides your hand to rest atop your chest, on the side that your heart rests. "that you can leap and beat any obstacle in your way, and for a moment the world is open, and vast, and limitless. that is what the sky looks like, the perfect place to race upon horseback."

"except you're on a dragon."

"well, yes, but find me a horse that has wings and i promise to take you riding up in the sky one day."

you ask him to describe more things, more often.

the forest.

the iron throne.

the sea.

vhagar.

each book he reads you.

till one day you ask, "what do you look like?"

he tries his best.

he tells you about his signature targaryen hair,

and helps guide your hand up to touch it.

he tells you about his pointed nose,

and guides your pointer finer up to drag itself down the length of it.

he tells you about his jawline,

and lets you feel that part of him too.

"and your eye?" you ask.

he doesn't say anything

but he does peal off his eyepatch

and guide your hand up to run down the length of his scar.

"what does it look like?"

"gross."

"that's funny, because it just feels like skin. is all skin gross?"

"no but this skin... it's damaged."

"i feel something. it's hard," you murmur, as your nail traces over the curve of the gemstone that fills his socket.

"it's a sapphire."

"a sapphire?"

"yes. it's like a precious, shiny, smooth, blue rock."

"what about the other eye, the one that's still there?"

"what about it?"

"what does it look like? what colour is it? eyes have colours, don't they?"

"they do," he says, gazing into the hypnotising shade of your own, "it's blue."

"the sky, the sea, your eyes. i think blue might be my favourite colour."

he falls asleep that night with a smile on his face

his heart relieved that you never asked him to put into words what you look like,

because there simply aren't enough words known to man,

be it in the common tongue

or high valyrian,

to describe how beautiful you are.

he tells you as much, when you do eventually ask.

in the fallout of storm's end, soaked to the bone and regretful,

it's you who his legs carry him to

your chambers, to be exact

it doesn't even cross his mind to care that his knocking at your door awakens you

he doesn't care, loses all ability to do so when he collapses into your arms

"i made a mistake," he tells you, when you ask what's wrong

"that's okay, mistakes help us learn better."

not this one, he thinks

you're so gentle with him

and your skin is so warm against his cold

that he can't help himself

his lips find yours.

his hands find your hips.

his breath gets lost somewhere between you both.

but that's okay,

you're all the air he's ever needed.

he feels selfish, when he guides you over to your bed.

and he knows he should tell you what's happened,

what's changed.

he knows he shouldn't be touching you with hands that are stained by blood.

but he's desperate,

and he's breathless,

and he's so frighteningly in love with you.

"please, aemond," it's you who begs for more.

it's you who tugs on the leather of his jerkin.

it's you who pulls at the cotton of his shirt.

it's you who he gets undressed for.

you both wind up naked upon your sheets,

limb tangled with limb.

"i wish i could see you," you tell him. "but i don't need to see you to know you're beautiful, aemond. i feel it, in everything you do for me."

so he lets his own eye shut.

decides he doesn't need to see you either,

not like this, his skin tainted with the smell of the rain, and his dragon, and the velaryon boy's scream.

and the truth is, he wants to take you like this.

he wants to be cruel, and damn you to a life by his side.

but he looks at you,

naked beneath him,

lips swollen with his kisses,

the shine of your own arousal peaking out from that space between your thighs,

and all he sees is the girl he read stories to.

the girl who swooned and awed over every cheesy line about a knight,

and all his knightly honour,

loving his lady in the way that's deemed right by the gods and the lords.

and aemond just can't bring himself to defile your honour,

not like this.

so even as you whine,

and moan,

and offer up your maidenhead on a platter of your unapologetic beauty,

the prince just continues to edge at both your own pleasures,

hips grinding back and forth,

lips tangling with your own,

voice whispering nos, and we can't do thats, and not yets.

"tomorrow," he promises, the spill of his pre-seed smearing along your pelvis with each stuttered thrust of his hardened cock against your soft skin, "i'm going to ask your father for your hand."

"but, how?" you sound so pretty, he can't help himself and lets his eye reopen, searing the haunting image of you naked and pliant beneath him into his mind's eye.. "your mother... she said you flew to offer your hand to one of the baratheon girls."

"what i promised lord baratheon was a targaryen prince, and i intend to keep that promise," he speaks with so much conviction, skipping over the events of his nephew, and his dagger, and his joyride in the sky. "daeron is a boy of sixteen, he can have her. but i, i will belong to you."

the will to leave you, maidenhead still intact, somehow finds its way into his heart

he doesn't fail to leave you sated, however,

his finger dancing along the pretty pearl that has you whining his name and losing your mind upon the mattress.

he keeps his word,

wakes not with the urgent need to discuss last night's war-inciting events with his mother

but with the burning desire to find your father and win his approval

he doesn't find him in his quarter of the keep.

or in the training yard.

or in his seat at the small council.

what he does find is his fear stricken mother,

his stoic grandfather,

his giggling brother.

"aemond, what have you done?"

he doesn't answer

they already know what he done,

the whole realm likely knows, his half-sister too.

so he asks what he really cares about,

asks where your father is.

"he's gone," his mother answers.

"after he heard about your business with lucerys," aegon continues. "the traitor's taken his family to dragonstone and bent the knee to our bastard-bearing cunt of a sister."

so yeah that's what i'm thinking about.

anyway, goodnight <33

[masteri-0]

Just had a sudden thought of Dragon!Shen Yuan (or any creature really) AU, where it was like a normal rite of passage for parents to raise their young (protectively, they're not jerks, just uh, very unsafe for human children, or just humans in general...), then throw them into some sort of extreme trial to prove their strength, when they're deemed ready. Oh, and it was normal, expected, even, to take a go at your parents and try to murder them as a proof of superiority, or smt like that. Doesn't mean they don't love each other! Dragons just have a different way of showing care, that's all. What's a lil play fighting?

Anyw, main point is, SY transmigrates into SQQ with this mentality. Sees his cute little sheep. Falls in love instantly and adopts him. But oh! Oh, the protagonist is so weak, so malnourished! He's gonna nurture him and make sure he's well taken care of! Such a scrawny little sheep can't possibly survive anything! Oh? What's that? He has to push the scrawny baby into the abyss? Well! Makes sense, but that's years into the future, and he has time to make sure they grow up big and strong yet! Cue all the canonical pampering.

I'd imagine during LBH's disciple days, he receives a lot more comments about him going out into the world, and there's less matchmaking from Shizun, since SY believes that girls will flock naturally to him if he's strong enough, so there's also more emphasis on his training, as well as the training of other disciples on the peak. I'm not sure how he'll react to Bai Zhan disciples. Does he comment on their strength and set off the QJP disciples, causing an interpeak war? Does he still hold the same annoyance for them and property damage?

By the time the IAC rolls around, SQQ has already sent his not so little white sheep all over to gain experience, and deemed him ready for his 'coming of age' (close to human adulthood too, he'll do fineee). There is far less tears and hesitation. When the time comes and LBH's seal is broken, SQQ feels the increase in power and the last of his worry dissipates. He basically just looks at his kid, nods, and chucks him in. Dusts off his hands and pats himself on the back. One child down, however many more to go. Oh, they grow up so fast... (Was LBH freaking out during this? Oh well, must be the nerves, he knew the feeling well. But he's read the book and knows what's going to happen. His kid will be okay, and he'll naturally gain confidence after surviving in there!... No one ever said dragons were GOOD at feelings ...)

Of course, it takes some time to adjust to the absence, but there's less grieving and freaking out over his impending doom. Sure, he's judging the original work a little. Limbless and hanging, really? SY much prefers a clean death, thank you. (How he died in his previous life is up to interpretation). But that's besides the point, his favourite is off on his trial, and it's about time to test a few of his other kiddos too (single dad to, uh, how many?)

Shen Qingqiu gains reputation as a sadistic (?) teacher that puts his disciples through dangerous missions seemingly without care, but unlike in the past, he seems to love the kids and dotes on them off-missions, so no one's really sure what's going on with... That. (He's still waiting for one of them, any of them, to try and kill him? Where's the bonding?? Was he not doing enough???)

So when LBH returns, things go uh, differently. SQQ is just here, waiting in anticipation, appreciating how his kid's all grown up, and seeing the scheme to unfold. Safe to say, people are confused. (Him, especially. What do you mean, his kid isn't trying to kill him?? Really, where did he go so wrong in parenting? None of his kids want to bond with him the proper way!!)

(I imagine SY being a better fighter than in canon due to literal trial of fire as a dragonet, and I'm not sure if he would've gotten hit with without a cure at all during the invasion in consideration of this)

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[calisources]

𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐃   𝐎𝐅   𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒   𝐀𝐍𝐃   𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒   𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.   all   sentences   have   been   taken   from   the   hunger   games:   the   ballad   of   songbirds   and   snakes   book   and   some   from   the   movie   trailers.   might   include   spoilers   for   the   movie   and   book.   change   pronouns   and   locations   and   names   as   you   see   fit.

“Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.”

“Being from the Capitol doesn’t give you that right. Nothing does.”

“Well, as they said, it's not over until the mockingjay sings.”

“People aren’t so bad, really, It’s what the world does to them.”

“That is the thing with giving your heart. You never wait for someone to ask. You hold it out and hope they want it.”

“Snow lands on top.”

“I think there’s a natural goodness built into human beings. You know when you’ve stepped across the line into evil, and it’s your life’s challenge to try and stay on the right side of that line.”

“Before need, before love, came trust.”

“And try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace.”

“What are lies but attempts to conceal some sort of weakness?”

“The strain of being a full-fledged adult every day had grown tiresome.”

“You can blame it on the circumstances, the environment, but you made the choices you made, no one else.”

“Wars are won by heads not hearts.”

“There is a point to everything or nothing at all, depending on your worldview.”

“You're mine and I'm yours. It's written in the stars.”

“But better off sad than dead.”

“What young brains lack in experience they sometimes make up for in idealism. Nothing seems impossible to them.”

“I think it’s more important than love. I mean, I love all kinds of things I don’t trust.”

“I’m planning to build a whole new beautiful life here. One where, in my own small way, I can make the world a better place.”

“If the war’s impossible to end, then we have to control it indefinitely. Just as we do now.”

“What was there to aspire to once wealth, fame, and power had been eliminated? Was the goal of survival further survival and nothing more?”

“They were both after all, still children whose lives were dictated by powers above them.”

“Star-crossed lovers meeting their fate.”

“I’m bad news, all right.”

“The ability to control things. Yes, that was what he’d loved best of all.”

“What happened in the arena? That’s humanity undressed. The tributes. And you, too.”

How quickly civilization disappears. All your fine manners, education, family background, everything you pride yourself on, stripped away in the blink of an eye, revealing everything you actually are.”

“A boy with a club who beats another boy to death. That’s mankind in its natural state”

“Please, Coriolanus, I would never forget the favor.”

“Who are human beings? Because who we are determines the type of governing we need.”

“What sort of agreement is necessary if we’re to live in peace? What sort of social contract is required for survival?”

“It’s just the kind of story that catches fire.”

“And last but least, District Twelve girl . . . she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

“Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains.”

“If history teaches you anything, it’s how to make the unwilling comply.”

“You know what I won’t miss? People. Except for a handful. They’re mostly awful, if you think about it.”

“And to erase me, they must erase the Games.”

“Why did these people think that all they needed to start a rebellion was anger?”

“And if even the most innocent among us turn into killers in the Hunger Games, what does that say? That our essential nature is violent.”

“It's the things we love most, that destroy us.”

“We all did things we’re not proud of.”

“What are the Hunger Games for?”

"If you want to protect people, then it's essential to accept what human beings are and what it takes to control them."

“Hope is the only thing stronger than fear."

“If the cause wasn’t honorable, how could it be an honor to participate in it?”

“He’s a Capitol boy and clearly I got the cake with the cream, ’cause nobody else’s mentor even bothered to show up to welcome them.”

“To dine with her suggests that you consider her your equal. But she isn’t.”

“The endless dance with hunger had defined his life.”

"In nature, things that are prey, that are weak, are marked"

"The world is not kind to those who don't fit in"

"We all wear masquerades in this Capitol"

, "There's a price for everything, Lucy. Sometimes you pay it willingly, sometimes it's taken from you,"

"Freedom is not given, it is taken"

“I’m not convinced that we are all as inherently violent as you say, but it takes very little to bring the beast to the surface, at least under the cover of darkness.”

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 11

WC 1326, Masterpost CW: anxiety

“Hey, kid,” Flash the older said as he raced up beside Danny.

“Still not a kid, old man,” Danny replied. It was already a well worn argument by this point after several dinners or weekend meals over at the Flash’s household. Sure it was used before that, but once Danny had started seeing Barry out of the mask, he’d only been worse about it. Danny guessed it was their thing now. It was weird to have ‘things’ again with people, but a good sort of weird.

“Still not an old man, kid. I’m not even a grandpa yet!”

Danny almost dropped the tablet he was working on. Barry didn’t have any kids, not aside from Wally who might as well count. Did that mean…?

“I’d tell you to watch your sass in your new position,” Barry continued, unaware or uncaring of Danny’s sudden crisis about the idea of children, “but one, I’d be a hypocrite and two, it’s a solid third of the reason I recommended you.”

“Well, that’s good because the sass isn’t going awa— wait, what new position?”

Barry grinned under his mask in a way that just felt dangerous. Not, like, dangerous in general, but dangerous for Danny who was the focus of that smile. “You’ll see. Flash Two will pick you up Monday at nine am. Don’t worry, you’re cleared off work already.”

“Fla— and he’s gone. That’s great. What the fuck,” Danny said to himself. It was a struggle to focus on finishing up the post event check in and then his reports and then going over his team’s report and then some more paperwork, but Danny managed. As soon as he got home he was immediately was texting Wally.

After the Reveal, Danny had gotten Wally’s civilian number too, but there were strict rules for using that number. Danny understood the caution. Apparently the first number he had been given was encrypted by Batman’s crew, which was crazy to think about, even when he was dating a Flash, so there were less rules other than no civilian names. Just for the ease of it, Danny mostly stuck to the old number unless they were planning a purely civilian date. Or if Danny wanted to say things that he knew would make Wally blush. Things Danny would very much never want anyone else to read. They may have mostly kept to kissing in person, but teasing Wally was just too much fun.

Danny: Why is Big!Flash having you pick me up on Monday??? What did he mean about a ‘new position’?????? I like my job! FLASH!

Quick Boy: You’ve got to give me a second to answer, dude!

Danny: You’re supposed to be fast. 😑

Quick Boy: Who’s always telling me electrical signals can only move so fast?

Danny: FLASH 🤬

Quick Boy: Sorry, babe, I’m not allowed to tell! But you’ll love it! Promise!

Danny: 🥺

Quick Boy: Don’t make those eyes at me! Trust me, babe, just wait until Monday.

Danny: Fine. But know I’m pouting.

Quick Boy: 😭

Danny behaved. He didn’t bother for updates. He sent more cats dressed as Justice League members and finished off the last Percy Jackson book, sending Wally updates along the way. But the whole weekend the fact that he apparently had a new job he knew nothing about and would be taken to Monday churned in the back of his mind.

It made him anxious in a way that he hadn’t been since he left Amity Park for Central city.

He didn’t much like it.

-

“Please at least tell me that I’m dressed fine for this new job?” Danny asked when he opened the door to Wally’s knock.

He didn’t really have many other options if Wally said no, he already had on his best dark jeans, cleanest boots, and his new cross body bag. He might have a button up shirt he could change into instead of the long sleeve one he was in, but that was as good as it was going to get. He just didn’t have business casual clothes with the jobs he had.

“You look fine,” Wally said.

“Not exactly a supersuit,” Danny said with a sigh, taking in Wally’s uniform.

Wally pressed a quick kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Not the kind of hero you are.”

That was something Wally had been doing, insisting that Danny was a hero. Whenever he protested, it only seemed to make Wally more insistent so Danny mostly let it be. Plus, the cute smile Wally got for ‘winning’ was nice to see.

It was gracing Wally’s lips now as Danny stepped out of his apartment, locked the door, and shoved the keys securely in his bag. One lost set of keys due to super speed was enough to make sure they were safely clipped in from then on.

“Okay. Right, let’s get this over with.”

“It’s a good thing,” Wally insisted as he squatted down for Danny to climb onto his back, “not your execution or anything.”

“I just don’t like not knowing,” Danny said.

“You love surprises.”

“Little surprises like picnics and presents, not life changing ones.”

“You’ll love it,” Wally insisted and then they were off.

-

“I’ll love an abandoned warehouse?”

“Apparently abandoned warehouse,” Wally stressed with a wave of his hands, like he was a two-bit magician.

“Convincing appearance. Once again, Flash, it’s a good thing you’re a hero because this as serial killer vibes.”

The windows were blacked out. There was a heavy layer of dust on most surfaces. The stairs to the foreman office were long rusted away. It was a mess.

But there was that feeling of being watched that crawled up Danny’s spine. None of the dust actually moved as they crossed the floor over to Barry. And the doors were either welded shut or solidly reinforced.

“Ready kids?” Barry asked.

“Still not kids,” Danny replied almost absently.

“Still don’t care!” Barry pressed one of the bricks on the wall and the whole thing shuddered and pulled back like some massive pocket door to reveal a… a portal behind the wall.

“Ta-da!” Wally said, complete with jazz hands.

Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portal to look at him.

Did they know? Was this…?

“Danny?”

“What?” Danny started, forcing himself to look over at Wally who was beside him again.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Danny winced. He just couldn’t hold back the twitch of his body at that word. “Sorry. Um, so what is that?”

“A Zeta tube, it’s how we travel to the Justice League. It’s like a transporter,” Barry explained.

Okay, right, not a portal to the Ghost Zone. No one knew. He was safe. Danny closed his eyes. It was just a transporter that looked a lot like a portal.

Wally rested his hand on Danny’s arm and Danny almost jumped from the light touch. “Babe?”

“Um, remember how I told you there was an accident in my parent’s lab when I was a kid? Yeah, um, sorta similar look, is all. It just freaked me out for a moment.”

"Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Wally said. He squeezed Danny’s arm gently.

“No way you could have known. Who has a phobia over portals, right?” Danny said as he summoned his best attempt at a smile for Wally.

“Are you okay to…” Wally glanced from Danny to the portal nervously.

“I, yes? Can you just explain to me how it will go?” Danny asked. He pressed himself close to Wally, doing what he could to scrape together his frayed nerves. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone through the actual portal that had killed him all the time. It was just that now all that felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime no one remembered but him.

“Of course, babe,” Wally said, twining their arms together before he launched into a passionate explanation of the Zeta tubes.

It would be alright.

He could do this.

He had Wally.

-----

AN: Wally and Barry: We have something so cool to show you! Danny: *has portal based ptsd* ._.

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the masterpost!

[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

House - Oct 12 - @rosekillermicrofic - 1,950 words - Warnings: mild homophobia from character’s father, biting again

(a/n - this one is too long again, but it needed some world building)

Evan met Barty when he was just seven years old. His parents had taken him to some pureblood gathering for the adults, leaving the children to themselves in another room. Some of the other kids already knew each other from previous events, and they formed little groups, of which Evan had no desire to be a part. There was one sullen looking boy standing against one of the walls, glaring at everyone else with hazel eyes. His hair was a messy mop of dark brown, his skin pale and clear. Evan approached him.

“I’m Evan Rosier,” he greeted, in the way he had been taught to introduce himself, sticking a hand out to shake.

Barty stared at his hand with disdain. “Barty.”

Oh, Evan had heard that name before. “Crouch’s son?”

Barty’s face went abruptly dark as he straightened up against the wall. Evan took his hand back as it seemed Barty had no intentions of shaking it, awkwardly putting it back in his pocket.

“Don’t ever mention my father to me,” he spat. Evan didn’t flinch, he just raised one eyebrow at the other boy until Barty softened. “We don’t exactly get along.”

“I don’t get along with my father, either,” Evan offered, though he knew he didn’t mean it in the same way that Barty must mean. Evan’s father was a stony man; he didn’t show affection or any other emotion, and he didn’t show his love in any traditional methods, if at all. For much of his life, Evan considered his father on the outside of their small family: him, Pandora, and their mother had a very close relationship, and then there was their father on the outside, looking in but not participating. It seemed that Barty’s relationship with his father was even worse than apathetic.

But Barty seemed comforted by Evan’s commiseration. His face relaxed, and he stopped leaning against the wall. By the end of the evening, Barty and Evan had played several games of chess and exploding snap.

And I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think your house is haunted

Your dad is always mad and that must be why

They became good friends, Evan and Barty. They started seeing each other at more pureblood social events, and they each ignored every other child present, only playing with one another. By the time it was time to go to Hogwarts, Evan was excited about the prospect of seeing his friend every day, perhaps even living in the same dorm as him.

Barty was thrilled when he got on the train. He was nearly bouncing out of his seat with excitement. They shared a train car with Evan’s sister Pandora and a friend of hers, Dorcas. A third boy named Regulus wandered in at some point, his carefully bored expression trying to mask some anxiety at having to search for an open compartment. Barty invited him in immediately.

It wasn’t until far later that night, after the sorting hat ceremony and the welcoming feast, after Regulus, Evan and Barty had all been sorted into Slytherin and found out they were going to be sharing a dorm room together, that Barty’s good mood finally broke. Regulus had gone to sleep, an unnatural silence surrounding his bed curtains after he had pulled them shut (he must already know how to do silencing charms).

Evan was sitting up in bed reading a book, and Barty had been unpacking his trunk, showing Evan every little thing he had brought from home. After a while, Barty had gone quiet, and Evan realized he was able to finish a whole chapter without Barty interrupting. He looked up, only to find Barty staring at the wall, eyes unseeing, as tears streamed unhindered down his cheeks.

“Barty!” Evan whisper-shouted, shocked. He hurried out of bed to crouch next to his friend, but when Barty didn’t move at all, Evan changed tactics and sat next to him. Their backs were leaning against Barty’s bed as they stared at the stone walls that made up their dungeon dorm room. Evan waited for Barty to speak first.

“I’ve never spent a night away from home,” Barty finally whispered, which wasn’t what Evan had expected him to say at all. He was confused — Barty always complained about being at home, being near his father, so Evan expected him to love being away at Hogwarts. He waited for further explanation, and Barty quickly gave it. “I’m so… relieved.”

His voice broke, and then Barty was sobbing, and Evan pulled him as close as he could while he cried.

And I think you should come live with me

And we can be pirates

After several years at Hogwarts, Evan grew used to Barty’s confusing relationship with his family. He returned home for every holiday, never missing a single chance to leave. He professed how much he loved Hogwarts, how much he hated to leave, especially when Evan or Regulus were staying behind for a holiday. It took Evan until fourth year to realize the reason Barty always went back was for his mum.

He never spoke about her. He complained about his father on a daily basis; he repeated every terrible thing his father had ever put in his head, much to the displeasure of Evan, who felt it was his personal duty to prove Barty’s father wrong. But Barty never mentioned his mum.

Evan had asked Barty to come to his house for Christmas in fourth year. After three years of watching his friend come back from the Christmas holiday looking miserable and emotionally beaten down by his father, Evan had had enough. A week before they were all supposed to board the train back to London, Evan broached the subject with Barty.

“Why don’t you ever come to mine for holiday?” Evan asked. “If being at home makes you so miserable, that is.” He had been listening to Barty complain for close to three hours at that point.

“Can’t,” Barty said simply. “I have to see mum.”

Evan hadn’t ever asked again.

Then you won’t have to cry

Or hide in the closet

When Barty came back for sixth year, he was different. Evan couldn’t explain what it was to anyone else, but it was entirely obvious to him. Something fundamental had changed Barty in some way, and Evan felt entitled to that information. Barty walked onto the train with a different swagger to his step, a different attitude behind his words, a different emotion behind his eyes. It was as if he had a mask on for everyone else, but Evan could see right through it, and he hated the fact that he was the only one who could see it.

To make matters worse, Barty was avoiding Evan and their group of friends, never spending any time in the dorm or even the common room. He was usually hooking up with some girl, stumbling into the dorm early the next morning, looking disheveled and depressed. Evan couldn’t understand it. Barty had never shown interest in girls before, despite other boys in their year having started ages ago. Evan found comfort in this fact, as he had never had any interest in the other sex, and he was beginning to realize he never would. Except Barty had come back and, very suddenly, girls were all he could or would think about.

Evan’s patience quickly wore thin, and he confronted Barty one day on his return to the dorm. Evan had been waiting for him, fuming, because he hadn’t spent any time with Barty at all in weeks. As soon as Barty walked through the door, Evan practically pounced.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Bartemius Crouch, Jr.?” Evan spat, backing Barty against the door he had just closed behind him.

“Um,” Barty fumbled ineloquently. “Getting dressed, I hope? These clothes are from last night.”

“I know,” Evan hissed. “You’re never fucking here anymore. Why are you never here?”

He watched Barty swallow thickly, his throat bobbing. “I’m here, I live here, Evan—“

“You haven’t slept here since we’ve been back,” Evan insisted. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He shoved closer, getting in Barty’s space, watching as his eyes flew wide. “Get the hell off me—“

“Not until you tell me what’s going on with you,” Evan prodded. “C’mon, Barty, it’s me. We’ve been friends since we were seven.”

Barty stared at him for what felt like a long time. Finally, he admitted, “I had a fight with my father. A big one.”

Evan’s eyebrows pulled together. He didn’t back off from Barty yet. “That’s it? You fight with him all the time.”

“Yeah,” Barty blew out a large breath, the pieces of hair framing his face fanning out. “But, this time, he found out his only son and heir is gay.”

It went dead silent for a moment while Evan processed that vital bit of information. Barty tried to look nonchalant, as if he didn’t care at all what Evan’s reaction would be, but he kept inadvertently flicking worried glances Evan’s way.

“The girls,” Evan said, meaning it as a question but it came out more as a grunt. Barty knew what he meant anyway.

“Yeah,” Barty sighed. “I thought maybe I could fake it pretty well. I don’t even sleep with most of them. We just end up getting drunk and making out, which is fine for me.”

Evan’s head was spinning. “But you — guys. You’re into guys.”

Barty swallowed again, and Evan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Barty’s throat even if he tried. He leaned forward, not quite sure what he was planning on doing before he pressed his lips to the skin just over Barty’s thundering pulse on the side of his neck. Barty gasped beneath him, arching up into his touch. Evan groaned against his skin, gently biting the area and soothing the sting with his tongue. Barty made a sort of keening wail.

“Oh, Merlin, Evan,” Barty gasped out, and then his hands were shoving Evan back. His pupils were blown wide when Evan looked at him. “You — you’re…?”

He trailed off, not quite asking what he wanted to ask. Evan answered anyway. “I like you. I want you. I don’t really care about anyone else.”

Barty’s eyes, which were already too-wide, grew impossibly wider. He surged forward, connecting their lips for a moment, and it was like Evan was doused in fire. He had no idea how he had managed to live without kissing Barty before. Too soon, Barty was pulling away, but only to tack on: “Me too, Evan. Only you.”

And just like a folk song

Our love will be passed on

The day after they graduated from Hogwarts, Barty and Evan moved into a tiny flat in London. It was barely enough space for a living area, kitchen, bedroom and bath, and Evan couldn’t possibly love it any more than he already did. It meant so much to him to live in a space that only belonged to him and Barty, a space that was entirely theirs.

Barty was at the shops, but he would be home soon. Home — that was the word Evan had been searching for. He’d lived in many places: his family’s extravagant manor, their many vacation houses, the dormitory, to name a few. But he had never felt at home in any of them, not the way he did in that tiny flat, with Barty.

When Barty finally did arrive, with four bags of groceries hanging off of his arms, Evan greeted him with a soft kiss and a warm smile. “Welcome home,” he said.

“Happy to be here,” Barty replied.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 7 thoughts!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7, PART 7 OF THE MAIN STORY!!***

There are only 16 new chapters total in this update; with this, we are up to chapter 116 in book 7.

You should check out this livestream if you want a more part-by-part summarized translation of what's going on and/or if you want to hear the voices and watch the characters along with the commentary!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

As expected, we start off where we left off last update; Yuu, Grim, Silver, and Sebek have met up with the Shroud brothers. (Lilia is not with them.) According to Idia, they are still in a dream realm since Sebek is still in armor which he cannot bring back into reality. Ortho is present via a projection of some sort.

It's weird seeing Idia, Sebek, and Silver introducing themselves to one another in the main story and acting as though they've NEVER met before; they were all featured in Glorious Masquerade and interacted quite frequently. I'm aware that the main story and events don't share the same timeline, but it's still quite the jarring knowledge gap to witness.

ADFIHBADIYFBIOAFBEWQVUQOCAB SILVER AND SEBEK SUDDENLY CLOSE IN ON IDIA TO PROTECT HIM FROM SOMETHING THEY SENSE, HE CAN'T BREATHE... Waaaah, Idia... You're a princess squished between two pretty boy knights wwww

Idia and Ortho tell us that Malleus is expending a lot of energy to monitor Lilia in particular...? Ortho then goes on to explain that his "individuality" has become useful. Even though he cannot have a UM (okay, so confirmed that Ace is the last one to gain it shjdbahsdbasda), he is the only one capable of transferring his consciousness from one body to another. This is how he was able to reach out to Idia and the others!

Ortho tells them about his Cerberus Gear. We get a flashback of what he was up after getting suited up; he's flying over Sage's Island to collect information on Malleus's UM for STYX.

Thorns pierce through the clouds and Ortho battles them! STYX sends reinforcements (not personnel, but like technology/cannons?) to help Ortho. The thorns form a short of shield over Sage's Island, so he breaks through via a weak point. asdbhbaisdbals It's so unsettling to see the port looking so dark and depressing...

Ortho's mom reminds him he can only stay in there safely for 20 minutes. Aw, she cares so much about Or-kun 😭

It's going to take over several minutes (I think 17) just to analyze the complex nature of Malleus's magic and save it. While the analysis anchor does its job, Ortho has to protect it!

OH SHIT IT'S OB MALLEUS

ebfyvoFoaHhahaahahaHHhahaahah ORTHOS STARTS TALKING ABOUT A BUNCH OF TECH STUFF LIKE WIRELESS TO EXPLAIN TO MALLEUS HOW HE CHANGED BODIES, Malleus surprisingly understands???? I half expected him to combust on the spot from confusion... DBHLBSYOFOFYAAFIAFIL MALLEUS IS BEING DUNKED ON BY A CHILD, Ortho says that since magic is powered by imagination, Malleus cannot block Ortho's advances or force his new body under sleep since Malleus does not understand tech.

I can't believe him being shit with tech is actually relevant to the plot 💀

AEFHLBFBYFOVYFEQRUROQ OB MALLEUS PROCEEDS TO RESPOND WITH VIOLENCE, HE'S GOING TO DESTROY THE ANALYTICAL ANCHOR SO ORTHO DECIDES TO FIGHT BACK

RIP Or-kun, he could only resist for so long... his attacks have no effect in this domain where Malleus has complete control.

JUST 30 SECONDS BEFORE THE ANALYSIS ENDS, QUICK ORTHO STALL HIM BY SHIT TALKING MORE!!! I KNOW CHILDREN CAN BE SAVAGE, SO UNLEASH YOUR WRATH

HFBFYOAEOFYEEIAFL MALLEUS.?>??? ?? ? ?? ???? HE IMPLIED HE'S GOING TO KILL OFF ORTHO AND THEN GOES OFF (?) ON ONE OF HIS DOGGIE DRONES...

"Good night, little Shroud." You have to hear it for yourself, it sounds very ominous 💀 He really said he ain't above child murder, eh?

??? For a second Malleus froze and his shot missed? So Ortho decides on a strategic retreat with the second dog drone. NO MALLEUS ENDED 02 TOO, IT TOOK A BLOW FOR ORTHO WHILE HE RETRIEVES THE ANCHOR

We cut back to STYX, which is dedicating its resources to creating an opening in Malleus's barrier for Ortho to escape. He clears the barrier!!

Aaaaaaah, another cute moment for Shroud Mama! She and Shroud Papa collapse onto the floor in relief. He has sustained some damage, but his core is intact!

One line I really like from Malleus is him referring to Ortho and others as "uninvited guests" that he's going to chase off no matter what.

NOOOOO THEY CONFIRMED BOTH DOGGIE DRONES GOT MCMURDERED IN THERE OTL Never forgiving Malleus for this, fr (Shroud Mama says she can fix them though so we're all good!)

They tell Ortho "welcome back" and Ortho says "I'm back" 😭 AND THEY GROUP HUG

RUH-ROH

Shroud Papa says that Malleus's UM... reminds him of Grim's magic... WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN

STYX has support from Briar Valley, which should help with their analysis. However, the results so far are not looking good. According to Shroud Papa, the barrier is 99% impossible to destroy unless either Malleus dies OR Malleus chooses to lower the barrier himself.

It's not plausible for Mama to make enough Cerberus Gears for a whole army. Besides, if they they destroy the barrier, Shroud Mama theorizes that they may also accidentally destroy the consciousnesses of everyone on Sage's Island... so that's definitely not an option!

FJLDADBIAFSVYOFFEQFA ORTHOS UGGESTED TELLING MALLEUS "Your grandma is so sad" FROM OUTSIDE THE BARRIER TO CONVINCE HIM TO LOWER THE SHIELD........ . . . ....... . . .. .... .. . . . . .. . . ... . . LIKE IN THE OLD MOVIES

They're now looking into Idia's dream on a monitor? Ortho notices Idia's dorm room does not have Ortho's mainenance dock, so... um, he realizes that Idia must be dreaming about an alternate world where his little brother never passed.

Shroud Mama is going to try and "hack" into the dream spaces. AJAFSVOSvfvfefea SHE HAS A CUTE LITTLE GREMLIN GIGGLE??? She's very fired up because Malleus insulted mankind's best technology, saying it cannot stand up to his magic. (aslbhflasbifabfd THIS IS WHERE IDIA GETS IT FROM????????)

"It's rare to see Idia so happy." LDBHbiadib THIS BOY IS MAD DEPRESSED, LET HIM BE

"Isn't it time that everyone got tired of the dream world and want to return to reality?" No, Shroud Mama. I guarantee you that most TWST fans WANT to stay in Twisted Wonderland and don't want new content to stop coming out, this is our escapism :)

WAAAAAH ORTHO HE'S REPEATING THE LINE VIL TOLD HIM, THEY HAVE TO TRY BECAUSE NOT TRYING IS ALWAYS 0% BUT 0.001% HAS THE POSSIBILITY TO BECOME 100%

Shroud Papa warns Ortho that Idia may reject reality, and therefore "this" Ortho. He's concerned that this will put Ortho through a lot of emotional stress. Shroud Papa wants professionals (psychologists) to try and contact Idia instead of Ortho.

ADFILBAFIYAEGIYQEFBIAF ORTHO HAS SO MUCH FAITH IN HIS OLDER BROTHER, he says Idia would get hype about a cute robot boy trying to get in contact with him, this means he'll become a protagonist like in his light novels!

DNBHdsvyofwFTOwqihbyow8fS WE'RE GOING TO IDIA'S DREAM NOW, he pulled like 3 SSRs of his favorite character (of course he'd dream this, OF COURSE).

Video chat notif from Ortho???

OMG IT'S ROBOT ORTHO AND IDIA FREAKS OUT THINKING IT'S COSPLAY

Ortho reintroduces himself. "It's nice to meet you for the first time in 'this' world!" Idia starts to laugh and assumes it's Ortho's avatar for virtual chat, that kind of thing. Or maybe Ortho is talking about the plot of a new anime?

ILBFIBYADBFADBEFQFIPo; IDIA REPEATS THE EXACT LINES ORTHO SAID HE WOULD SAY, THAT HE'S THE CHOSEN ONE BEING CONTACTED BY A CUTE ROBOT BOY

Here's the breakdown... Idia gets a headache and finally realizes the truth. afhbBIfieeq;ofBHQEF;????? ?the DREMA ORTHO IS CALLING HIMAND TEELLING HIM THE REAL ORTHO IS A FAKE, DON'T LISTEN TO HIM (this is THE definition of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss).

DREAM!ORTHO TRIES TO PULL IDIA DEEPER INTO THE DREAM, TELLING HIM HE'S JUST SLEEPY FROM GAMING TOO MUCH SO GO BACK TO SLEEP

Oooh, interesting that RSA!Ortho still appears to be similar in body type to Robo!Ortho? I always assumed Ortho was small because Idia kept him "preserved" in the moment of death. Maybe the dream Ortho is just modelled after Robo!Ortho since that's what Idia's memories are familiar with.

Idia loops back around again to the start of his dream, where he is in ceremonial robes and Malleus approaches him. HERE COMES MALLEUS TO GASLIGHT HIS CLASSMATES AGAIN

adhfgyoafdodp THERE'S A LIGHT FROM THE SKY???? TSUMTSUMS???????? GOD?????? AND ANIME ON IDIA'S SIDE?????? OMG, here comes Ortho in his Cerberus Gear come to save the day! Idia recognizes STYX's emblem.

UH-OH, MALLEUSIS PISSED THAT ORTHO SURPRISED HIM TWICE"Stand down, you fools." MALEFICENT ENERGY IS OFF THE CHARTS

Idia recognizes Malleus as being in Overblot adhbafliafa AND THE SKY STARTS CRACKING because Ortho is not meant to exist in this dream. He basically goes against the canon www

Malleus teleports away (yeah, FUCK IDIA I guess) and leaves them to be swallowed by the abyss. Idia's being pulled into the darkness, and their mom's voice comes in warning Ortho to stay away before more damage occurs. Idia recognizes his mom's voice and remembers even more!!

Aw, Ortho promises to save his brother...

Idia is at the gates to the Underworld again? Phantom Ortho says Idia fell there and speaks to him kind of in a friendly manner. "It's too early for a reunion."

asfkjlnsUPBUADGPAGB IDIA IS SO CONFUSED, HE'S WONDERING WHY A PHANTOM IS CALLING HIM BIG BRO, HE STILL BELIEVES THAT HIS BROTHER GOES TO RSA AND THAT THIS IS A NIGHTMARE Idia is sooooo in denial...

Phantom Ortho reassures Idia that his death is not his fault, so please stop blaming himself... that Idia promised he would live without looking back, so he should look at the truth.

WHOOOOO HE REMEMBERS BOOK 6 FELLAS

AYO WE GOT IDIA CRYING AND IT'S ANIMATED, WE SEE THE TEARS ROLLING DOWN HIS CHEEKS, WE WINNIN'

"I'm always being saved by my little brothers (YES PLURAL, WEH), I'm such a pathetic big brother."

Ah, so now Phantom Ortho calls himself "King of the Underworld" says Idia cannot leave since it's not a good example for the rest of the phantoms. It's going to be the boss!

OOOOOH IDIA'S HAIR GOES FULL DIFFERENT COLOR + new facial expression (we previously only saw the hair change color in his Dorm Uniform Groovy and his Suitor Suit Groovy).

IDIA CALLS HIS FAMILY CURSE A BLESSING, he gets more power in areas with lots of blot since there is more fuel for him to burn. HASDIYASODBASID IDIA OBS TO FIGHT PHANTOM ORTHO??????? IS THIS A PREVIEW FOR OVERBLOT CARDS OR SOMETHING

They have the same battle lines about how they will be "free"...

IDIA'S CRINGE ERA RETURNSSSSSSSS (he's making those cringe sound effects of blowing things up) and claims the title of "King of the Underworld" (the same title given to players who own 10 cards of a particular character).

afhbabilfbialfi IDIA LAUGHS SO HARD HE CHOKES

He finally uses his UM to open the gates and escape, telling Phantom!Ortho he cannot stay there. PHANTOM!ORTHO LOVINGLY WISHES HIS BROTHER SAFE TRAVELS, AW "The whole universe is waiting for you."

Idia tries to wake up and hears Dream!Ortho's voice??? BUT IDIA IS FULLY AWAKE NOW, HE KNOWS IT'S SUCH A DREAM He has finally accepted Ortho's death AND calls both the robot brother and the dead brother as his "brotherS"

Idia points out all the discrepancies in the dream... adfbilasdibalbiaflb I LOVE HOW EVERYONE KEEPS CALLING RSA A "SHINY" SCHOOL, Idia's all like, "No WAY is my little brother going to a school like that!"

THE DREAM ORTHO PANICS AND BEGS IDIA TO LISTEN TO HIM BADSBILADIAIDVFADIL IDIA TELLS THE DREAM ORTHO "Sorry, I don't like anyone other than anime/game characters calling me onii-chan!" IBRO, YOU'RE OUTTING YOURSELF LIEK THIS????????? ? ????? ????

He plots revenge on the person that would dare show him this disgusting dream, he's ready to FILE A COMPLAINT to them! (Watch out, Draconia, this otaku is coming for YOUR ASS) sayusdbyosfvayf What's with Malleus pissing off big bros with dead little bros...

Idia finally reunites in his dream with Robo!Ortho and apologizes for the hurtful things he said... Ortho talks about the adventures he has been on + explains what has been going on. Basically, they reconcile without a problem!

After all the summary, Idia first comments on how shocked he is that their mom hacked into his computer 🤡 Yeah, Idia... she saw everything... Ortho tells him it's okay, she didn't comment! BUT THAT MAKES IDIA EVEN MORE UPSET, "it's the worst thing for a male high school student!" It just might make him Overblot a THIRD time www

I can't believe THIS of all things is what makes Idia seek revenge on Malleus... (HE SAYS HE WANTS MALLEUS TO CRY AND BEG FOR FORGIVENESS)

Idia is really out here about to doxx Malleus huh 💀

I honestly was not expecting to cry this update (since I was thinking it would just be a flashback about how Ortho "woke up" Idia) but NOPE, I just guess every update now is going to elicit tears... I've always been highly invested in the Shroud brothers' storyline, so I'm really happy they touched on it again here and enhanced it by giving us more Shroud Mama and Papa, as well as Phantom!Ortho. It was sweet to see Idia recognize Phantom!Ortho as his brother too instead of completely renouncing him or "replacing" him with Robo!Ortho. ihbdiladqeofqbeafnasi The updates are making me like Idia more, but in the same way you'd like a character for being pathetic... Man made SO many dog chew toy nosies this time 😭

I did not expect Malleus to be so... pro-child murder/j He will stop at nothing to keep everyone under his thumb, and that's so awful. There was so much gaslighting in this part as well, even if Malleus is not directly doing it himself. The fact that his magic can just... do that on its own is... It sort of gives me the vibes of trying to enforce a toxic kind of positivity on everyone, which in of itself has its roots in his own insecurities and inability to cope with loss. He's projecting that onto everyone else, and that has very scary results as we see here.

There were a lot of memes pre-book 7 about how Malleus's inability to understand technology would come to bite him in the ass later, and all of those fans can now feel vindicated because WELL, IT CAME TRUE.

And last, but not least, I'm shocked at Idia's reason for wanting to fistfight Malleus 🤡 BRO'S MAD FR FR... WHAT MUST HIS MOM HAVE SEEN ON HIS COMPUTER TO MAKE HIM SO AGGRO... WAS IT LEWDS OR SOMETHING???????? ?? ? ??? ?????? ?? Glad that Idia is on our side now, this is an excellent place to leave off on for next time!!

[absolutewhore101]

Gorgeous

A/N: my first CM fic! obviously had to make it about my favorite boy <3. based on Gorgeous by Miss Swift herself.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!Reader

Summary: Spencer's just so... gorgeous

Warnings: alcohol consumption, taylor swift references

Word Count: 1.0K

Minors DNI

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another day, another case finished. 

The last case had weighed heavily on all of you - children being involved didn’t make it easy for anyone.

The flight back to Virginia was silent, everyone trying to process the events that had transpired over the last week. It was Emily who finally broke the silence.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I need a stiff drink after that case. Anyone willing to join me?”

Derek was the first to agree, followed quickly by Penelope who (unfortunately for her) had to join the rest of you in the field, and soon enough, everyone was buzzing at the thought of getting drunk enough to forget everything. 

You turned to Spencer who was sitting next to you, asking him quietly if he could give you a ride home later. Spencer never drank all that much when going out with the team, so he’d become your personal designated driver, and he was thrilled about it. 

“Of course.” He responded, just barely above a whisper. “Gotta make sure you get home safe, can’t be down our most valuable team member.” He threw the last part in to offset the true intention of his words - that he would do anything to keep you safe, not because you were on the team, but because you were you. 

Your mind started reeling with the thought of being alone with Spencer, just like it did every single time. You smiled at him before returning to your book. 

—

“Woah!” Spencer said, watching you throw back another drink. “I know you’re not driving, but maybe you should slow down a little.”

“Oh, Spence,” you started, “I just love how smart you are.” You slurred as you fell into him. “My name’s Doctor Spencer Reid and I can tell you anything about everything.” You mimicked.

Spencer smiled, too flattered to find it offensive. 

“Did you know it only takes 6 minutes for your brain to start reacting to alcohol?” He asked you.

He watched as you thought about it, before ultimately declaring, “I don’t believe you.”

He laughed, “you don’t believe me?”

“Nope,” you said, pushing away from him, “not a single word.” Spencer smiled, watching as you stumbled over to the girls. He could tell from the look on your face and the reactions from your audience that you were making fun of his fun fact. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about it. 

The rest of the night went by in a blur, for the most part. The only thing you really remembered was Spencer putting you to bed and promising to wake you up when breakfast was ready. 

True to his word, you emerged from your bedroom to the smell of pancakes and bacon, and it almost cured the headache you couldn’t ignore. 

Almost. 

“There’s some aspirin on the counter with some water,” he gestured, “I figured you’d probably need it.” 

You smiled at him and walked over to where he pointed, your eyes never once leaving his frame. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that hung off his lanky frame. His hair was all sorts of messy, and he had to keep pushing it back off of his forehead.

You couldn’t help yourself as you gravitated towards him, all but leaning into him as you stood in front of the stove. 

“You okay?” He asked. “Do you want to go back to bed? You look like you're about to take me down.”

You laughed at his comment. 

Maybe he should think about the consequence of his magnetic field being just a little too strong.

“I’m okay.” You responded, playfully cheering as he flipped a pancake. Breakfast was had in silence, and eventually the two of you were making your way over to Rossi’s for “team bonding,” as Penelope had called it. 

— 

As soon as you walked through the door you were being swept away by the girls, following them outside to the patio.

“Did he spend the night?” Emily asked. 

“What happened?!” JJ all but yelled. 

“Ladies, she was drunk. So if Dr. Reid tried anything…” Penelope threatened. 

“Don’t worry, Pen, nothing happened. He put me to bed and then made me breakfast, that’s it.”

Emily and JJ looked at each other as Penelope started to giggle. 

“Did you talk to him?” JJ asked. 

You gave her a confused look. 

“He was in my apartment, of course I talked to him.”

Emily hummed. “Did you have an actual conversation or did you say about 2 whole words?”

You glanced down as you started fidgeting with your hands. 

“2 whole words.” You mumbled, causing the three of them to break into a fit of laughter. 

“Stop!” You playfully yelled at them. “How am I supposed to say anything to his face? I mean, have you SEEN his face?!”

Spencer, who had inadvertently listened to the whole conversation, immediately flushed a deep red, much to Morgan’s amusement. 

“I told you she liked you, wonder boy.” He teased, ruffling Spencer’s hair as he walked away. 

“God, I never would’ve guessed that your type was nerds.” Emily commented.

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing!” You retorted.

“I mean, the way you were mimicking him last night made it seem like you thought he was pretty… lame.”

“What? No! I think he’s so cool! It actually makes me hate him… just a little bit.”

The girls laughed, but the conversation quickly ended as the boys started to make their way outside. Spencer quickly found a seat next to you, sitting close enough that you could feel his body heat seeping through your shirt. 

Oh. My. God.

“Now, what were you girls up to out here?” Rossi asked. He didn’t get an answer, only a chorus of giggles from the four of you. 

—

Spencer hadn’t been home for an hour when his doorbell rang. He made his way over, hoping to open it to find you standing on the other side, but he only found a vase of flowers on his doorstep. 

Confused, he picked them up and brought them inside, trying to find the note card. 

“Carnations,” he mumbled, setting the vase on his counter. 

Did you know that carnations symbolize love and fascination? Of course you did… Anyways, Spence, I just wanted to let you know that you’re ruining my life-

“Wait, what?” He panicked.

-by not being mine. Movies this weekend? -Your One and Only

P.S. you should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tell me your thoughts! Thank you for reading :)

[witchhazelevesque]

I often see Calypso’s curse described as ‘she’s forced to love anyone that comes to her island’ but that’s not exactly what happens:

“You asked about my curse, Percy. I did not want to tell you. The truth is the gods send me companionship from time to time. Every thousand years or so, they allow a hero to wash up on my shores, someone who needs my help. I tend to him and befriend him, but it is never random. The Fates make sure that the sort of hero they send…” “They send a person who can never stay,” she whispered. “Who can never accept my offer of companionship for more than a little while. They send me a hero I can’t help…just the sort of person I can’t help falling in love with.” … “The Fates are cruel. They sent you to me, my brave one, knowing that you would break my heart.”

Battle of the Labyrinth, 223

The most pertinent bits are in color.

It’s not that she’s magicked into loving someone against her will, it’s that the Fates handpick people she would have loved anyway. As in, they have qualities she admires/values and finds herself able to love (big asterisk here). And the Fates make sure that of those people she could love, they pick ones that can’t stay with her.

This isn’t exactly retconned in House of Hades, but she does shift the blame more to the gods and doesn’t mention the Fates in this exchange:

“They were all the same! The gods send me the greatest heroes, the ones I cannot help but…” “You fall in love with them,” Leo guessed. “And then they leave you.” Her chin trembled. “That is my curse. I had hoped to be free of it by now, but here I am, still stuck on Ogygia after three thousand years.”

House of Hades, 378

But the focus is still on the fact that the people who come to her island can’t stay. The way it’s phrased here, it does makes sense how it could be taken as ‘she’s forced to love anyone’, but that’s not what’s happening.

Her curse is centered around being abandoned while stuck on her island. It’s only a curse because she’s imprisoned. She cites that as the reason she isn’t free from this curse. It’s not a set-and-forget work of magic that controls her emotions. It’s more of an active situation for the gods or Fates, where they orchestrate the delivery of the source of her pain each millennia, and then the rest comes in Calypso dealing with the aftermath of her companions leaving.

That big asterisk: Percy and Leo should not be included in this category. They’re children.

So, why is any of this even happening?

Blame Riordan and his weird, failed attempt to depict Calypso as a teenager; he did a horrible job.

Granted, it wouldn’t have worked no matter what he did, just by the nature of immortality. But he, for some reason, keeps shooting himself in the foot by hammering in her age. I don’t have access to the ToA books but some examples: Apollo saying she was old enough to be his babysitter, the way she got dreamy eyed at remembering things that happened before her imprisonment, the fact that she was there when Zeus was a child (by immortal standards).

Calypso is aware of time passing, and she retains all her memories of the thousands of years she existed, both on and off Ogygia. Time is weird on her island, but it does still move forward. She is literally, emotionally and mentally thousands of years old.

The only leg work RR does to depict Calypso as a teenager is to make her look like a teenager and then try to set up romantic situations with actual teenagers. For comparison, RR has Hestia take the form of a child, but no one acts like she actually is a child.

Later, RR has Calypso do things like want to go to high school and band camp, but that doesn’t make sense. Her wanting to have new experiences does, yes, but not ones that are for teenagers. That’s not indicative of her being a child, it’s more of RR’s lukewarm effort to make her a teenager.

I don’t have some hard hitting point to this distinction, I just think it’s important to know what’s actually being portrayed and how it’s being done. Calypso isn’t forced magically, in universe to fall in love, but she is forced to narratively.

My overall point though is, as usual, be critical of Riordan’s choices. He set up this thing where he wants the audience to believe that Calypso is so compatible with Percy and Leo that even the gods take notice, but it doesn’t work because she isn’t a teenager like they are.

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 10

After his foot was deemed fine, Dustin dragged Steve to a sitting room and pushed him onto a couch.

"Wait here. I need to get everyone", he beamed before running off.

Steve really didn't understand what had gotten into him, but figured that he might finally meet this enigmatic Eddie. It was odd that he hadn't made himself known. From how the kids talked, he seemed like a larger than life personality. Dustin must have sent his friends ahead first, because Max, El, and Lucas arrived, and then Will and Mike.

"Where were you this morning?", Max asked, arms crossed.

"I...went on an outing with the king", Steve answered. He didn't think it wise to admit that while on the outing, he had smacked him and ran off up into a tree. Now that he thought about it, the whole thing was embarrassing. Steve rubbed his eyes and groaned.

"What's wrong?", El asked.

"I think my father was right. I'm an absolute idiot."

"Yeah, but a useful one", Robin said, coming in, following behind Dustin. "If our liege is going to be taking you out like that, I suggest we draft up some kind of sign out sheet."

Steve brought his hands down from his face. "What? For me? Like a piece of equipment."

"The music room looks great now, thanks to you", Will pointed out.

"Dustin. Why are we all here?", Lucas asked.

Dustin really looked like his face would break from how hard he was smiling. "You guys aren't gonna believe this. Steve says he's never met Eddie. Ever."

Steve wondered when he got comfortable not hearing the title 'prince' before his name. Probably when people spat it out to him like a curse word. While he was meditating on this, the rest of the group shared confused looks.

Mike spoke up first. "But he-"

"I know!", Dustin giggled.

"Does he-", Lucas stammered, pointing to Steve. "Does he not know-"

"How is that even possible? Is he brain-dead?", Max asked.

"Starting to seem like a real possibility", Robin said.

"If you all came just to insult me, I'll be heading back to my room now", Steve said, standing when El grabbed his arm.

"Wait. Sit", she ordered softly, so he did. Then she looked to the others. "Don't be mean. It's not his fault he doesn't know."

"Know what?", Steve asked.

"Certainly the things a Harrington doesn't know could fill a book", the king announced his presence with that quip. "Perhaps several books."

"Perfect. We're all here", Dustin grinned.

Steve didn't get what he meant by 'all'. "You all were talking him up so much, I thought I was finally going to meet this Eddie." He didn't miss the way the king's eyes got wide.

"This is probably the funniest thing I've ever seen", Will grinned.

Dustin cleared his throat. "Steve, why don't you tell us about Eddie?"

"Why would I tell you about your friend?", Steve crossed his arms.

"Just, tell us how you'd describe him", Lucas urged.

Steve glanced at King Edward, always wary of him, even though there was a small table between them. "He's always hanging around you guys. Telling you stories that you like, playing with you."

"Which was your favorite story?", Dustin asked.

"Depends", Steve shrugged. "If it's the one he does with you guys, I sort of liked that one about the missing friend. I don't believe in leaving anyone behind and I can't believe you argumentative shits actually worked together long enough to find them."

"You gonna let your prisoner call your wards 'shits'?", Robin smirked at the king.

"If the boot fits", he replied, face unreadable.

Steve didn't actually know how the king felt about this band of children. They seemed to enjoy the benefits of having the king's favor, despite at least one of them being a servant's child. Not for the first time, he wondered what they were all doing here.

"Anyway", he continued. "If it's my favorite story about Eddie, probably the one you called the uh, what was it? The ribbon incident?"

The king shot up to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger to Dustin. "You told him about that!?", he squawked in a very un-kingly manner.

"I didn't, Max did", Dustin ratted right away.

"I did. It was funny", Max said.

"What about the nice things about Eddie?", El asked.

"Who's saying nice things about Eddie?", Robin asked, brow raised. "Like, out loud?"

"Great gusts, you'd think they worship him", Steve groaned. "Half the things they told me about were how amazing Eddie was."

"Okay, Steve you can shut up now", Mike warned.

"'Eddie did this and it was great', 'Eddie did that and we fucking loved it'. 'Eddie's the best', Eddie is-", Steve paused when he saw the king smiling. Not just smiling but looking...well and odd combination of smug and bashful. Why would he...wait...

"I'm going to ask a stupid question", he started.

"My word, I think he's got it", Robin said.

"Shh, birdie. There's no such thing as a stupid, little prince", the king looked to him.

There was something different about the way he said 'little prince' this time, but Steve forged ahead. "King Edward...are you Eddie?"

"That I am", he answered.

"You just-you just let these random children call you that?"

King Edward-no Eddie-no, he was still King Edward, looked around the room at the gaggle present. "I wouldn't call them 'random'."

Steve couldn't take it. He was looking at them with...well it could only be described as fondness, as adoration, something like love. He shot up from his seat and marched towards the door, needing to get away. This time, El didn't hold him back. But he did hear Dustin running after him and calling for him. Steve didn't stop until he was back in his room. Not his room, a cell. He might have a better bed and a window now, but this was still very much a prison.

"Hey, what the shit?", Dustin demanded, coming in without so much as a knock.

"You all just expect me to believe all of that? That King Edward is Eddie?"

"Yeah", Dustin jutted his chin out. "Why's that so hard to believe?"

"That man is the same one who cried when his favorite lute broke? The same one who used to sing El to sleep? The same one who ate so many strawberries that he passed out?"

"To be fair, he was shifted into a bat at the time, so it only took like ten strawberries", Dustin clarified.

"You're asking me to look at red and see blue."

"Huh?"

"King Edward is not the same as Eddie. Those are two different people and I won't believe that they're the same." Steve turned to look out the window. He was wasting his time here. He had to think of an escape. It was far up but with enough sheets, this might be a viable option.

"Maybe I don't want you to see blue. Maybe I want you to see purple."

Steve's brow furrowed. "What?"

"You knew about one side of Eddie. Let's call that red. Now you know the other side, his blue side. Now you just need to put them together to make purple", Dustin explained.

"You're asking the impossible." Steve sat down on his bed but kept his eyes trained on the window.

Dustin came over and sat next to him. "Have you ever had someone look at you and only see one thing?"

"It's different with him. He's a tyrant."

“Did you ever think it might be time for you to get rid of that narrow worldview of yours and broaden your horizons?”, Dustin tilted his head like he was talking to a child.

Steve, ever stubborn, didn’t respond and kept looking out the window. He couldn’t see his kingdom from here, and at this point he was wondering if he’d ever lay eyes on it again. He didn’t know whether that would be a bad thing or a blessing. He didn't want to admit it, but Dustin had hit the nail on the head. Back home, he'd only been one thing or the other. People rarely got close enough to see the whole picture of what he was.

“Seriously, what’s the worst thing that can happen?”, Dustin urged, frustrated.

“I’m not going to be toyed with by your king.” At the end of the day, they were mortal enemies. There was no common ground wide enough to change that. A few stories of him not being a menace meant nothing. At least that's what he was telling himself.

"Henderson, leave us alone", the king said, also coming in without knocking.

Steve expected to hear protests, but Dustin got up and left without a word. Apparently he did actually respect the king's authority sometimes. Steve turned, knowing it wasn't wise to have your back towards the enemy.

"Suppose you're here to tell me how nice you actually are."

The king closed the door but didn't step away from it, keeping the distance between them. He looked uncertain and that enough threw Steve off. What did he have to be unsure about?

"There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have said days ago."

"What? Your nickname? I would have figured it out if those brats had any sense of awareness."

"They talk about you the same way."

Steve stood slowly, feeling somehow vulnerable even though neither of them were positioned to fight. "What?"

"Ever since they started talking to you, it was always 'Steve this, Steve that'", the king smiled in much the same way he had before. "'Steve knows so much, I learned a lot from him today'. It was kind of annoying to be honest."

Steve crossed his arms. He could relate, but he wouldn't let that show.

"I didn't want to believe that the son of my enemy could be good with kids. That he could be kind and gentle."

"Why are you telling me this?", Steve asked.

"Because I know you're not like your father. Or your grandfather. As much as you pretend to be."

"You don't know anything. And if you think being nice to me is going to get me to defect, you've got another thing coming."

"You're that loyal to your father?", he felt the words rising up out of his mouth like venom but couldn't decide if he wanted to poison the prince or protect him.

"I'm loyal to my kingdom", Steve said, voice full of sincerity. He knew he wasn't the perfect prince, but his father wasn't infallible either. But Steve's allegiance had been to his people for a long time. He felt as though he'd said too much though, when he saw the king's expression slip.

“Your king…Your father…”, Eddie looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he say it? “When I sent the ransom letter, all I asked was to negotiate. Only then could I guarantee your safe return.”

Steve’s face showed no change. No realization. If anything, he looked resigned.

“King Alric has refused to sit with me.”

“So you can no longer guarantee my safety”, Steve surmised.

There was an even deeper resignation as his shoulders sagged and Eddie knew that Steve believed he was here to execute him. He shook his head frantically, making a decision right then and there.

“Your safety is between you and I now. It has nothing to do with that man.”

Steve frowned. "But you just said-"

"I said you're not your father."

"...So you'll let me go?"

Eddie could hear Nancy berating him and even Jeff giving him some choice words for releasing what should be a very valuable hostage without consulting them first. He pushed their voices away.

"If that is what you wish."

Steve didn't know if he felt a weight lift off his shoulders or a heavier one bear down on him. Before, his father had decided where Steve would go and he obeyed. Then he had been shackled by King Edward, only allowed where he let him. But now he was being giving a choice. To return home or to...to what? Stay here? Was it even a choice?

He felt completely unmoored and didn't know what was right.

"If you stay...", Eddie started, looking unsure himself. "If you stay, you won't be a prisoner anymore."

Steve let out a breath. "Then what will I be?"

Eddie grinned cheekily and Steve thought of the color purple. Dammit, Dustin.

"You'll be one of my little shits."

Steve laughed so sudden and loud that Eddie startled. Everything he'd been feeling had bubbled up and overflowed and finally found its way out. When he finished, he wiped a stray tear and caught his breath.

"Can we think of a better title while I think about it?"

"At your leisure, little prince."

Holy cow can you believe we're nearly done with the first arc?

Part 12

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690

[oh-stars]

Eddie's Quest

Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 916 words | CW: implied bad Harrington parents, rec drug use | Rating: T

--

There isn’t much from Steve’s childhood that Eddie knows about and what he does know, hasn’t always been good. Steve just doesn’t share a lot in general though. He’s content in living in the present, which isn’t something Eddie really knows how to do. So when Steve does share something positive, something that he holds dear from his childhood, Eddie latches on.

Their anniversary is coming up, only a few weeks away, and Steve mentioned he misses the way a babysitter made this specific kind of cake. Black something. Steve couldn’t remember the name of it so now Eddie’s on a mission to try and figure it out. 

Eddie finds himself at Claudia Henderson’s doorstep on a Tuesday morning with flowers in his hand. When she opens the door, Eddie doesn’t even let her say hello before he’s giving them to her with a, “I need your help finding this really obscure recipe to make Steve happy and I have a feeling it’s going to be a nightmare because I can’t bake for shit. Will you please help?” 

Claudia coos at him. “Oh you’re the sweetest, Eddie! Of course, I’ll help! Come in, come in.” 

They end up pouring over all her cookbooks, and then Claudia starts a phone tree with Karen, Sue, and Joyce for their recipes. All five of them converge at the library, their personal cookbooks in hand, to take over one of the study rooms the library offers. “If we don’t have it,” Claudia told him as they settled in, “then the library will.” 

Eddie can’t even argue as they get to work. 

“Did he say what it tasted like?” Karen asks as she starts flipping through a book. Joyce had the brilliant idea of marking where all the dessert sections started in each book, so each woman was currently flipping away while Eddie tried to remember every detail Steve had mentioned. 

“He mentioned cherries,” Eddie groans, scrubbing at his face. “And it’s a cake.” 

“Could be topped with cherries,” Sue hums as she sorts through her books. 

“Or a cherry filling,” Claudia points out. 

“Steve has a sweet tooth,” Joyce adds after a while. “He likes rich flavors, so it’s probably on the sweeter side than a refreshing dessert.” 

Eddie shrugs. “I guess?” 

“You know,” Karen says as she taps her fingers against her book. “I think I remember a few of Steve’s nannies over the years. They were always at the school for pick up. Do you know which one has the recipe?” 

“Does she still live here?” Sue asks. “It would save us some time to just ask.” 

“No, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “He said his parents didn’t let him keep in touch and she moved away. He doesn’t know where.” 

The women share a knowing, quiet look amongst them. Eddie’s not sure he’s fluent in their silent mom language, but he knows a judgy look when he sees one. 

Eddie jumps up and paces the room, retracing every line of thinking that particular conversation followed. The problem is, they were high as fuck when Steve brought it up, sharing tidbits between big bites of the ice cream they’d found in their freezer. 

“You would have loved her,” Steve had said with a mouthful. He was laying on Eddie, legs hanging off the arm of the couch and propped against Eddie’s side so they could share the pint. “She liked to read a lot, always had books for me.”

“What kind of books?” Eddie asked. 

“Think ones.” Steve shrugged, eyes glazed over. “Fairy Tales, but the real gross stuff. So my dad wouldn’t get mad,” he added quickly. 

Gross fairy tales, Eddie thinks. He knows what Steve’s talking about, the original dark shit that they used to scare children into behaving from the grim–

“German!” Eddie screeches as he slams his hands on the table. To their credit, none of the mothers jump except for Joyce. “She was German!” 

Karen looks up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed in concentration. Claudia taps her fingers against her temple. Sue hums as she checks a few of the spines on the other stacks. Joyce leans back, crossing her arms as she stares off into space. 

“That has to help,” Eddie tries, quieter, “right?” 

“Maybe,” Karen says as she blinks back at the cookbook. She trades it for another. “And you’re sure it had cherries?” 

“Oh!” Joyce jumps up, hands flailing as she grabs for a book off Claudia’s stack. “I know it!” 

They all crowd around the book, heads tucked together as Joyce flies through the sections and slaps a finger against a chocolate cake. “Black Forest Cake,” she says, panting a little. 

Eddie moves the book to read the description. “This is it!” 

Their cheering gets them kicked out, but none of them seem to mind as they tote their cookbook stacks back to their cars. Claudia and Sue are already talking about commandeering Karen’s kitchen to bake it in a few days, since her kitchen is bigger, and they can all help – make a day of it with wine and gossip. He doesn’t care how it gets made, just that he can take it to Steve, to show him he listens and cares and loves him so much. He can’t wait to share this cake with him, to make it for him every year just because. His quest will be complete and he’ll get to live happily ever after with a very happy, well-fed prince. Best quest yet.

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[sapphire-writes]

Hey, if your requests are still open and you accept... How about Aemond being inevitably soft towards jace's twin (who he claims to hate)? Maybe they were close as children but they drifted apart due to family division. During her family stay at kings landing, not a day goes by without them engaging in some good old fashioned arguing/battle of wits. One day he finds her all alone and in distress and before he can say something mean, she bursts out crying and hugs him tightly (almost like he's the only solid thing around her). Cue Aemond being out of sorts and unable to get out a scathing remark out while innerly: "No, stop! I'm supposed to be mean and scary. I'm not soft 🥺🥺"

A/N: Oooo nonnie I loved this request. I love some banter, I definitely ran with them really taunting one another. I hope you like this! I made them pretty feisty towards one another 😂💚

Dragon's Bane ~ Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: reader is Jace's twin, some violence

masterlist

EDIT: PART 2 is live 💚

Your stomach twisted with nerves as you arrived at the Red Keep. Your mother squeezed your hand, to comfort you and you offered her a small smile. You glanced at your twin Jacaerys who stood tall, looking towards the red towers. Luke, however, paled at the sight before him. You placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“It shall be alright,” you told him, causing him to smile weakly. Driftmark’s succession had been challenged, the reason for your return to the capital. You pushed your fear down, deep inside of you. You needed to be there for your brother, focused on nothing else. 

As your mother and Daemon made their way into the castle, you followed your brothers towards the training yard. The sound of clashing steel in the early morning rang out across the yard as a crowd gathered to watch. Jace nudged your elbow, beckoning you.

Finding a window between several heads you saw your uncle, Aemond Targaryen, was the source of all the clamor. He twirled expertly away from Ser Criston’s attack, silver hair fanning out behind him. He looked rather graceful, as though he was engaged in a dance rather than a fight. 

Aemond and you had been close as children, friends even. The two of you bonded over not having dragons of your own. Aemond was not awarded a dragon in cradle, and yours had failed to hatch. It wasn’t until later in your adolescent you had claimed a dragon of your own. 

With the loss of his eye came the end of your friendship. Luke was your brother after all, it was your duty to protect him from the Queen’s justice. Though you empathized with Aemond, for the wrong done against him. 

“Nephews,” Aemond called, “niece.” His sword was pointed, his violet eye locked onto you. He was handsome, you had to admit, even with the scar and the eyepatch that hid half his face. 

“Come to train?” he asked, a challenge more than a question. Your twin stood eerily still next to you. You snort out a laugh as his remark. Aemond’s eye narrowed.

“Something funny, niece?” he asked, as you crossed your arms in front of you. 

“I just found it rather unappealing, tis all. Need your ego fluffed up a bit more, uncle?” you told him, raising your brows. Aemond’s mouth formed a tight line. Jace’s head snapped towards you. 

“Sister,” he warned. Aemond’s lip curled. 

“Careful, niece,” he says, voice smooth, “you begin to tug free from your brother’s leash.” Aemond makes a tsk sound with his tongue. Your cheeks fill with fire. You open your mouth to say something else when Jace wraps his hand around your arm. 

“Come on,” he orders, pulling you from the scene, “he’s not worth it.”

The incident in the training yard was hardly the last quarrel you got into with your uncle during your time at King’s Landing. It was as though your mere existences annoyed one another and yet you could not see to stay away from each other. 

Everywhere you went, he appeared. The library, the gardens, the sept. There was no escaping his torment.  

“I didn’t know you could read, niece,” Aemond had said, snatching a book you tried to reach, walking past you. You huff in frustration, trailing after him, deeper into the library. 

“Give it back.”

“Ivestragon issa isse valyrīha,” he says (Tell me in Valyrian). 

Your face scrunches. Your mother tongue has been difficult for you and your twin to learn. You and Jace spent ages in the halls of Dragonstone practicing the language of Old Valyria. 

“What?” you ask, causing Aemond to smile at your defeat. 

“Nykeā zaldrīzes qilōni daor ȳzaldrīzes,” he says chuckling (A dragon who cannot speak).

You curl your hands into fists. You can feel the humiliation in your bones.

“Say it in the common tongue, if you’re so brave,” you taunt him, reaching for the book. He moves out of the way effortlessly. 

“Kostilus tolī.” (Perhaps later)

“It must be exhausting, being this insufferable all the time,” you tell him.

“You’re very cruel when you are feeling inferior,” Aemond tells you, a smirk on his face. 

“Inferior? To you?” you bark out a laugh, “you wish.”

“I already know it to be true,” he says, leaning against a desk, “in knowledge, in name.”

You sigh dramatically, tipping your head back to expose the skin of your neck. Your dark curls fall down your back, bouncing at the action, nearly mesmerizing your uncle. 

“You speak so poetically uncle, it almost feels like you’re trying to make a point.”

Aemond merely hums in response. He eyes your neck as though he wishes to sink his teeth into your flesh and tear out your jugular. 

“You always were a spiteful little creature,” he murmurs, eye narrowing. 

You hold his gaze for a moment. 

“Give me my book.”

“No, it is mine.” 

Your mouth forms a smirk then, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“Cannot part with it for an afternoon?” you tease, pouting, “very sweet uncle, like a child with a toy.”

This causes him to throw the book across the room. 

Dinner is a nightmarish event. A fight is likely to start once your grandsire is removed from the room. Aemond stands to make a final toast. 

“Final tribute, to my nephews, and niece,” he drolls, holding his cup out. Your ears ring as he continues, you watch his smug mouth move the words lost to you. All you see is red. 

“I dare you say that again,” Jace says, from his spot with Helaena. You stand from your chair and move away from the table. 

“Twas only a compliment,” Aemond insists, “do you not think yourself strong?” 

Jace is on him, punching him in the jaw. Aemond barely moves, pushing Jace to the floor. You walk over to him, slapping his cup from his hand. It clatters to the floor, the wine pooling like blood. Aemond’s smirk only grows.

“Do you not tire of being your brother’s lapdog?” he says. You slap him before thinking of the consequences. He turns back to you, cheek an angry red. He twists his hand in your curls, pulling you close to him. You can feel his breath on your face. There is only Aemond in the room, the noises around drown out. You hold his gaze, both of your faces masked in rage. 

“I hate you,” you hiss. A growl rumbles low in his chest. 

“I hate you right back.” 

Daemon has to drag you from the room, at the instruction of your mother. You sit within their chambers trying to cool your head. 

“You are too quick to anger,” Daemon scolds, as you fix your hair. The roots sit painfully from being manhandled by your uncle. 

“He vexes me,” you snarl and Daemon chuckles. 

“He will not bother you long.”

You look towards your mother who rests her hand on her stomach. Her lilac eyes are sad. You wish you looked like her, especially when you were young. You often dreamt of waking with lavender eyes and silver hair. 

“What do you mean?”

Daemon glances at Rhaenyra for permission. Though Daemon has been your father figure for most of your life, he still looks to Rhaenyra for guidance when it comes to you. She nods.

“When we return to Dragonstone, you shall journey to Winterfell,” he begins, “to wed Lord Cregan Stark.”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins. It was only a matter of time, you supposed, but you had hoped your mother would delay it. 

“What?” you say through your teeth. 

“My love,” Rhaenyra says beckoning you to come sit with her, but you back away. 

“No, no! Mother please,” you beg, tears filling your eyes. Your voice is strained and panicked. 

You have sat in your mother’s lap and listened to her cry over being forced to marry. You have seen her tears and listened to her sobs in the night when she believed you to be sleeping. You have seen her unhappy, heard her thoughts on the matter. And yet she puts you in the same position. 

“I will not go!” you insist, though you are afraid you sound like a petulant child with your demands. 

“You shall do your duty,” Daemon says, a warning look in his eye. You do not meet your mother’s gaze as you flee from the room. 

Aemond finds you in the gardens. He had come to get some air after the event of dinner. When he spots you sitting on a bench his whole body tenses. He feels a throbbing where his sapphire eye sits as though your very presence is enough to bring on one of his painful fits. 

Aemond struts towards you, tongue ready to release a cruel remark. A twig snaps beneath his foot in his haste and you turn towards him, tears streaming down your face. Aemond feels as though he has been kicked in the gut as all the air in his lungs leaves him. 

Your face is red, dark eyes glassy with fresh tears as you stand. Your lower lip wobbles as the streams on your cheeks glisten in the moonlight as fresh tears wet your face. Aemond’s lips part as he readies to speak, to throw an insult your way. 

A sob slips through your lips and suddenly your arms are around him, and her nearly topples over as you throw your weight onto him. His chest muffles your sobs as you hide your face from him. Aemond froze, his hands held out to his side, as you anchored yourself to him. It is as though you cannot leave King’s Landing as long as you are tethered to him. 

Your hands claw his back, holding on as though someone intends to tear you from him. You are in the palm of his hand, how easily he could humiliate you now. But he does not. Aemond’s arms relax against you as he holds you to him. He brings a hand to stroke your dark hair from your face. 

He finds himself unable to speak, the words fizzling from his mind as he feels the heat from your body melt into him. All he can do is stroke your hair, rub soothing circles in your arm as his tongue fails him.

It unsettles something within him and disturbs him. His bastard niece, this is wrong, he thinks to himself. Aemond does not believe himself to be a comforting man. The kindness he displays to his niece is foreign to him. 

You hate her. 

You despise her. 

She is everything you loathe in this world. 

You look up at him with those big brown eyes, and Aemond believes you must think the same about him. Neither of you speaks. This is not a language either of you knows. But as your cries lull, you stay in his arms in the gardens bathed in moonlight, exploring this unknown territory together.  

[annoyinglandmagazine]

‘more dangerous and less wise’ I’m sorry WHAT!? Is Tolkien seriously trying to tell us that the freaking Sindar are the feral ones out of all the Elven races? After the entire First Age? As for more dangerous, Galadriel is still here. You know, Feanor 2.0 the only one that actually survived. Using the Elven metric for being batshit insane yes, Mirkwood is weird, but not swearing blood oaths, setting everything on fire, murdering everyone in sight, telling the gods to go fuck themselves, challenging gods to one on one combat insane.

The line of Oropher isn’t even Thingol levels of mental. They’ve never even touched a silmaril or a ring of power! They’re downright sensible by first age standards! They’re arrogant sure, they have low self preservation instincts and seem pretty xenophobic (dwarf stuff). Also depending on your point of view there might be colonist undertones. All of which is just toned down versions of the First Age Sindar. They probably have developed weird customs from living in the murder forest so long and being pretty isolated but there’s nothing to indicate they’re all that bad. I mean they’re still alive and they’re holding on to their kings at a relatively steady rate.

I absolutely agree with takes going around that this is some sort of deliberate protection technique they have to ward off trespassers and that Thranduil is sitting there in his cave coming up with rumours to spread about all the messed up things they do to people. Because in the book they seem kind of chill? And this becomes a million times more funny to me if he bases the rumours off stuff he heard about from Elrond.

As in ‘Yeah we totally eat giant spider meat, that’s definitely a thing we do,’ and everyone’s reacting as horrified and scared or not falling for it while Elrond’s believing every word and just looks sympathetic, ‘Aww you guys have food shortages? I hear you, supplies were pretty shit during all that destruction of an entire continent in the War of Wrath. You know if you wanted more options I wouldn’t recommend raw orc meat before you build up a tolerance but I can defo show you how to butcher them properly!’ Thranduil just staring back at him like ‘Fuck you. I was trying to make up some story to scare children at night with, you guys actually did this shit? How hard is it to come up with something you fucking Noldor haven’t done already?!’

And also: Thranduil proceeds to take out a notepad, ‘Ok so tell me again about what the kinslayers did to interrogate those prisoners?’ And Elrond replies, ‘Oh, that wasn’t Maglor and Maedhros, that was a story about Gil Galad’s army in the War of Wrath.’ Thranduil ‘I’m sorry WHAT the actual fuck.’ Elrond nodding understandingly ‘Too much for the Third Age?’ Thranduil rapidly taking notes ‘No it’s perfect keep it coming.’