#i should blaze this ffs

[iveneverseenthesebowlsbefore]

do you know how much my simple pleasures creature comforts food adoring adhd sensory input needing ass is *hating* this no smell/taste thing? Like I can’t taste coffee. Coffee! That’s one of the best parts of living. I went for a walk in the woods this fall and couldn’t smell anything. When i’m sad and or not I can’t even get dopamine from cramming pizza down my gullet. My bed and blankets don’t radiate my stench when I try to get all cozed up.

Long covid sucks balls you guys.

[novaursa]

The Flames We Carry

- Summary: Ser Criston Cole expected for Rhaenys and Meleys to appear over Rook's Rest. To Gwayne's horror, Rhaenyra sent her sister instead: you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaeyra's younger sister and is bonded to Silverwing. These events happen after Skyfall. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content, but there are visual descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 3 712

- A/N: this was scheduled to be posted tomorrow, but I've decided post extra today. Enjoy.

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

Ser Gwayne Hightower had always been a man torn between loyalty and desire, but never more so than in the days leading up to the siege at Rook's Rest. The tension between him and Ser Criston Cole had grown sharper since that fateful day when he let you—the Princess, Y/N—slip through his grasp before their march on Duskendale. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his, the taste of your lips lingering like a ghostly memory, a sweet torment. You had been his time and time again, even if only in stolen moments, and each encounter had deepened the scars on his heart.

Gwayne knew he should be focusing on the battle ahead, yet his thoughts strayed back to you, his mind replaying that night over and over. The look in your eyes when you realized he would let you go, when you understood the depth of his feelings despite all the bitterness that lingered between your Houses. He had set you free, knowing full well it was an act of treason in all but name, and yet he would do it again if it meant sparing you the horrors to come.

But now, at Rook's Rest, everything was escalating rapidly. Ser Criston's scorpion ballistas and archers were poised in ambush, waiting for the dragon they expected: Rhaenys on Meleys. The war council had been clear, and Gwayne had heard it all through gritted teeth—Aemond and Aegon would flank her on Vhagar and Sunfyre, trapping her in dragonfire and steel. It was a ruthless plan, one that made his stomach churn. He had sworn to protect his family, his king, and yet all he could think about was you.

The skies darkened, a shadow sweeping over the encampment. The men tensed, eyes raised to the heavens as the flap of wings grew louder. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked up, expecting the crimson scales of Meleys. But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.

Silverwing.

The graceful, silvery-grey dragon, once ridden by Queen Alysanne, now bonded to you. Gwayne’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. This was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be you in the skies above, facing down two monstrous dragons with only the loyal Silverwing at your side. Panic clawed at his throat, his mind racing. He could see it in Criston's eyes too—the slight widening, the realization that their ambush had just become a slaughter. Not for Rhaenys, but for you.

“No…” The word slipped from Gwayne’s lips before he could stop it. Without a second thought, he rushed toward the nearest scorpion, where soldiers prepared to take aim at Silverwing. His vision tunneled, anger and fear boiling together in his veins. He couldn’t let this happen—not to you.

"Stand down!" Gwayne shouted at the soldiers, shoving one aside with enough force to send the man sprawling. The crew looked at him in confusion, but Gwayne didn’t care. He grabbed hold of the crank, making it impossible for them to load the bolt.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?!” Criston’s voice was a venomous hiss as he stalked toward Gwayne, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re sabotaging the plan! Move, or I’ll have you—”

Gwayne spun around, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I won’t let you do this, Criston. Not to her.”

Criston’s lip curled in disgust. “Her? You would betray your king, your House, for a traitorous whore who—"

The sound of steel rang out as Gwayne drew his sword, slashing at the scorpion mechanism, rendering it useless. The soldiers scattered, unwilling to get caught in the confrontation between two knights who had both earned their deadly reputations. Criston’s eyes narrowed, and in the blink of an eye, his sword was in his hand, the tip leveled at Gwayne’s chest.

“You’ll die for this treachery, Hightower,” Criston spat, the words laced with venom.

“I would die a thousand times before I let you kill her,” Gwayne growled back, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you harm her.”

Above them, the roar of dragons filled the air as Silverwing engaged with Sunfyre and Vhagar. Dragonfire crackled like thunder, the heat from the flames casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. You were up there, fighting for your life, for your cause. Gwayne’s heart ached with every fiery burst, knowing that each moment could be your last.

Criston lunged, and Gwayne barely parried the strike in time. The two knights clashed, steel against steel, each strike filled with desperation and fury. Gwayne fought with everything he had, driven by the need to protect you, even if it meant cutting down one of his own.

“Do you think she cares for you, Gwayne?!” Criston taunted between strikes. “She’s a dragonrider, a princess—she’ll never be yours! You’re a fool!”

“I know what I am,” Gwayne snarled, knocking Criston’s sword aside and slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest, sending him stumbling back. “But I also know what I feel. And I’ll not stand by and let you murder her.”

Criston recovered quickly, rage twisting his features as he advanced again. “She chose Daemon over you! The Rogue Prince—do you think she’ll remember your name when she’s ash?”

Gwayne roared in fury, his blade a blur as he pressed the attack. The sounds of battle, of dragons shrieking and flames roaring, were deafening, but all Gwayne could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the desperate need to get to you, to save you. But with every second that passed, his hope dwindled, and fear gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Then, the ground trembled, a shockwave of heat and force rippling across the battlefield as a massive burst of dragonfire erupted nearby. Gwayne staggered, the distraction costing him as Criston’s sword sliced across his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. He couldn’t afford to fall—not when you needed him.

But as the flames subsided, a silhouette emerged through the smoke—Silverwing, descending, with you astride her. Your eyes, burning with determination and fury, locked onto the scene below: Criston standing over a wounded Gwayne, ready to deliver the killing blow.

“Y/N!” Gwayne shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

You didn’t hesitate. With a command, Silverwing unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, forcing Criston to leap back, narrowly avoiding being consumed by the flames. In the brief reprieve, Gwayne stumbled to his feet, clutching his side.

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The memory of that last kiss, of your shared moments, hung between you like an unspoken vow. Gwayne knew he had only seconds before the battle resumed, but in those few heartbeats, he saw the truth in your eyes—the love that had never truly died, the bond that still connected you, even through war and betrayal.

But there was no time for words. With a final, lingering look, you turned Silverwing toward the sky, preparing for the next wave of the fight. And as you ascended into the chaos once more, Gwayne knew he would fight until his last breath to protect you, even if the whole world stood against him.The battle raged on, but in that moment, Gwayne Hightower’s heart belonged to only one—you.

The battlefield below Rook’s Rest was a symphony of chaos and death, the sky a canvas painted with fire and blood. Gwayne could only watch in helpless agony as you and Silverwing clashed in the heavens with Sunfyre and Aegon, two dragons locked in a deadly dance of tooth and claw. Overhead, the monstrous shadow of Vhagar circled like a vulture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every screech of agony, every roar of defiance, was a knife twisting deeper into Gwayne’s chest.

On the ground, Criston Cole barked orders, his eyes fixed on the battle above. The soldiers scrambled, trying to reload the scorpions, but the dragonfire raining down made their task near impossible. Bolts flew haphazardly, striking neither dragon nor rider, only adding to the carnage below as men screamed, burning alive in dragonflame. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the clash in the sky.

Silverwing and Sunfyre circled each other in a blur of flashing claws and snapping jaws, the air thick with the scent of burning flesh and blood. Gwayne could see the desperation in the way you leaned into every attack, urging Silverwing forward with a fury that matched his own. Aegon, though armored in golden scales and atop his mighty Sunfyre, was losing ground; he was not the rider you were, and Sunfyre, for all his pride, was no match for Silverwing’s speed and power.

“Hold fast, Sunfyre!” Aegon’s voice cut through the air, laced with both command and fear. But the king’s bravado was slipping. The once-proud Sunfyre shrieked in pain as Silverwing’s talons raked across his side, tearing through scales and flesh. Blood sprayed like rain, glistening in the sunlight before falling onto Criston’s soldiers below, causing them to scatter in panic.

Gwayne could feel his grip tightening on his sword as he watched, torn between the desire to cheer for your victory and the dread that this battle would consume you. Criston, standing nearby, had forgotten Gwayne entirely, his eyes alight with a mixture of awe and hatred. “If Sunfyre falls, so falls our king,” Criston muttered to himself, though Gwayne could hear the edge of panic in his voice.

But you would not give Sunfyre a moment of reprieve. Silverwing descended with fury, slamming into the golden beast with the force of a hurricane. The clash was brutal, teeth and claws tearing through scales, blood and fire mingling as the two dragons grappled. Sunfyre roared, a cry filled with both pain and rage, as Silverwing’s jaws clamped down on his wing.

“No!” Aegon’s scream echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide with disbelief as Silverwing’s powerful muscles twisted and tore, shredding Sunfyre’s wing almost completely from its body. The golden dragon thrashed wildly, his flight faltering as the wing dangled uselessly by a thread of sinew and bone.

Gwayne’s breath caught in his throat, torn between elation and horror. You were winning, but at what cost? He knew what was coming next. Vhagar, that ancient beast of war, had been waiting for this moment. With a bellow that shook the very ground, the monstrous she-dragon descended like a nightmare from the skies, her jaws wide and hungry.

“Look out!” Gwayne shouted, knowing full well you couldn’t hear him from so far below. His heart thundered in his chest as Vhagar slammed into both Silverwing and Sunfyre with the force of a landslide. The three dragons collided in a tangle of limbs, scales, and teeth, a storm of rage and destruction. The impact was so fierce that Gwayne felt the ground shudder beneath him.

“No! No, no, no…” Gwayne whispered, his voice cracking as he watched the entangled dragons plummet toward the earth. You and Aegon were mere shadows against the backdrop of fire and smoke, barely visible as the dragons twisted and fell in a deadly spiral. Criston’s soldiers, caught between the descending juggernauts and their own fear, broke ranks, fleeing in every direction as the ground rushed up to meet the falling beasts.

Gwayne felt a cold dread settle in his bones as he watched you, desperately holding onto Silverwing’s saddle as the world blurred around you. You clung on with a ferocity that spoke to your will to survive, but against Vhagar’s ancient fury and Sunfyre’s desperate thrashing, even the mighty Silverwing was struggling.

Criston’s eyes were wild as he watched the battle unfold, his voice a harsh whisper of disbelief. “Vhagar will end it… she must end it…”

But Gwayne wasn’t watching Vhagar anymore. He was watching you. You were still fighting, still urging Silverwing to fight back, but the odds were overwhelming. Sunfyre’s golden scales were slick with blood, his roars more pitiful now as he struggled to right himself in the air. Silverwing’s wings beat furiously, trying to break free from Vhagar’s crushing grip, but the elder dragon’s jaws clamped down on Silverwing’s neck, dragging all three dragons toward the ground with terrifying speed.

The earth shook as the three dragons smashed into the battlefield, the impact sending up a cloud of dirt and debris. The sound was deafening—a sickening crunch of bone and screech of metal as the dragons collided with the earth. Gwayne’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes searching desperately through the smoke and dust for any sign of you.

“No…” he whispered, stumbling forward as if he could somehow reach you, somehow pull you from the wreckage of dragons and death. But even from here, he could see the carnage—Silverwing’s body twisted and battered, Sunfyre writhing in agony, and Vhagar looming above them all, a monstrous shadow of death.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent, every eye fixed on the wreckage of the fallen dragons. Gwayne’s breath was ragged, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of you amidst the chaos. The dust began to settle, revealing broken bodies, shattered armor, and the mangled forms of the dragons.

And then he saw you—barely visible, still moving. You crawled from beneath Silverwing’s wing, blood streaking your face, your expression fierce even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Gwayne’s heart leaped into his throat. You were alive. Against all the odds, you had survived the fall.

But the battle was far from over. Vhagar’s malevolent eyes fixed on you, a deep rumble echoing from her throat as she prepared to finish what she had started. Aegon, still clinging to the last shreds of his pride, shouted commands to Sunfyre, but the once-majestic dragon was crippled, struggling even to rise.

Gwayne turned to Criston, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Do something! Call them off—she’ll be slaughtered!”

But Criston’s eyes were cold, devoid of mercy. “It’s too late, Hightower. She made her choice.”

Before Gwayne could respond, a deafening roar split the air as Vhagar reared back, ready to unleash a final torrent of fire upon you and Silverwing. Gwayne’s breath caught, knowing he was powerless to stop what was coming. All he could do was watch in helpless horror as the monstrous she-dragon prepared to strike.

But in those last moments, your eyes locked onto his. Even from across the battlefield, Gwayne saw the fire in your gaze—the unyielding determination, the refusal to surrender, even in the face of certain death. It was a look that would be seared into his memory forever.

And as Vhagar’s jaws parted, ready to unleash death upon the field, Gwayne did the only thing he could—he prayed. For you, for Silverwing, and for the love that had been forged in the fires of war.

It felt like time itself had slowed, the moments stretching into agonizing eternity. His breath hitched as the flames began to build in Vhagar’s throat, the light of impending destruction flickering in her maw. It would be over in seconds—everything would be lost.

But then, with a burst of speed that took even Gwayne by surprise, Silverwing jolted forward, her wings beating with desperate strength. As Vhagar’s jaws parted to unleash her fiery death, Silverwing struck. The smaller, silvery dragon lunged at Vhagar’s exposed throat, her teeth sinking into the tender scales. Her bite was unrelenting, fueled by both fury and the need to protect you. Vhagar’s flame sputtered out in a roar of agony, the ancient beast thrashing wildly as she tried to shake off the determined Silverwing.

Gwayne’s eyes widened in awe and terror. Silverwing’s tail snapped like a whip, striking Vhagar’s head with a force that reverberated across the battlefield. The blow landed squarely on Vhagar’s eye, the sound of bone and scale cracking sickeningly loud. The she-dragon’s roar of pain was a monstrous, guttural cry that seemed to shake the heavens. Even Aemond, usually so composed in battle, shouted in fury and alarm, yanking hard on the reins to regain control of his wounded dragon.

Gwayne knew he had only moments to act. Blood was streaming down your face, and even from a distance, he could see the exhaustion and pain etched into your features. You laid on the ground, barely holding on to life as Silverwing thrashed against Vhagar’s deadly strength. It was a miracle you had survived this long, but that miracle was on the brink of shattering. Gwayne’s decision was made in an instant, despite the searing pain in his side and the chaos around him.

Nearby, a riderless horse whinnied in terror, its eyes rolling as it tried to flee the madness. Gwayne gritted his teeth, limping toward the panicked creature. “Easy, girl,” he rasped, wincing with every step. The horse reared, wild with fear, but Gwayne moved with surprising swiftness, grasping the reins and swinging himself into the saddle with a grunt of pain. Blood stained his tunic from his earlier wound, but he forced himself to push through it. There was no time to dwell on it—not when you were up there, fighting for your life.

“Where are you going, you fool?!” Criston’s voice rang out behind him, filled with fury. “You’ll die, Hightower! Come back!”

But Gwayne was deaf to Criston’s commands. He spurred the horse forward, urging it toward the burning wreckage of dragons, toward you. The horse resisted at first, terrified by the scent of blood and fire, but Gwayne was relentless, guiding it with strong hands and determined resolve. The animal finally obeyed, its hooves pounding against the earth as it charged through the smoke and debris.

Criston cursed behind him, and Gwayne heard the clatter of armor as the Lord Commander sprinted after him, but Gwayne didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching you.

Above, the struggle between Silverwing and Vhagar intensified. Aemond’s curses mingled with the roars of his dragon as he tried to force Vhagar to tear herself free, but Silverwing was like a vice, her jaws locked onto Vhagar’s throat. The she-dragon’s great wings buffeted the air, but even Vhagar, with all her size and strength, was struggling against the tenacity of her smaller opponent. Silverwing’s wings were shredded, her silvery scales bloodied, but she refused to let go. She was holding on not just for herself, but for you.

“Y/N!” Gwayne’s shout cut through the chaos as he neared the spot where you lay half-alive below Silverwing’s wing. He could see that you were barely conscious, your grip weak on your sword as you fought to stay awake. Desperation fueled his every move as he urged the horse closer, reaching out to you. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

Through the haze of pain, you blinked up at him, your eyes unfocused. “Gwayne?” Your voice was faint, tinged with disbelief. “You… you shouldn’t be here…”

“I’m not leaving you!” Gwayne snapped, his voice rough with emotion. With a final burst of strength, he dismounted down beside you, reaching for your arm. The moment his hand grasped yours, you seemed to come back to life, your eyes clearing just enough to recognize him fully.

“Gwayne… you need to run,” you gasped, wincing as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “She’s going to kill us all…”

“Not today,” he vowed, pulling up with him and onto his horse. You were light in his arms, weakened from battle and injury, but there was still a flicker of the fierce spirit he had always admired in you. “I’ll get you out of here, I swear it.”

Criston’s voice was closer now, filled with anger. “Hightower, you’ll be executed for this!” he roared, but Gwayne didn’t even spare him a glance. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and the animal surged forward, carrying you both away from the hellish scene behind you.

As the horse galloped across the field, Gwayne glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the moment when Silverwing’s strength finally gave out. Vhagar’s claws found purchase, tearing deep into Silverwing’s side, and with a heart-wrenching cry, the silver dragon was forced to release her grip. Vhagar reared up, triumphant and bloodied, but the cost of the battle was clear—her eye was ruined, her scales cracked and bleeding. Silverwing collapsed onto the battlefield, her wings crumpling beneath her, but even then, she snarled defiantly, refusing to bow.

But there was no more fight left in her. Gwayne’s heart broke as he watched the light fade from Silverwing’s eyes, her body slumping in exhaustion. Aemond’s laughter echoed through the sky, dark and cruel, as he urged Vhagar to take the final blow. But before Vhagar could finish her fallen opponent, Gwayne’s eyes caught the movement of Criston as he halted his pursuit.

“Cole!” Aegon’s voice was a ragged gasp, filled with pain and panic. The king lay on the battlefield, unmoving, his once-golden armor scorched and twisted from the flames. His face was barely recognizable, the flesh blistered and raw, his body wracked with agony. Criston’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what had happened—their king was grievously injured, possibly dying. All thoughts of pursuing Gwayne and you evaporated as Criston sprinted toward Aegon, screaming orders for a healer.

Gwayne tightened his hold on you as the horse raced away from the carnage, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. You clung to him weakly, your breath shallow, your strength fading fast. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice trembling with barely contained desperation. “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll find safety. I won’t let you die.”

Your eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment, you leaned your head against his chest, your voice a faint whisper. “You saved me… again…”

Gwayne’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to spill over. “And I’ll keep saving you, no matter what it costs,” he promised, pressing a fierce kiss to your temple as the wind whipped through your hair. “I’m not losing you. Not today, not ever.”

Behind them, the battle raged on, but for Gwayne, the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms and the fragile hope that somehow, despite everything, they would both live to see another day.

[kangmoon27]

CHAOS DISASTER | Jungkook Oneshot ff

Pairing: King-obsessed Jungkook x Princess Y/n [Royal Au,]

Summary: You meant no harm to anyone but with you not being by the king's side is a threat to everyone, chaos disaster will happen cause the king Is out there ready to throw kn'fe in everyone's throat without you by his side.

Tears falling. A dark cloud screams with lightning. Slippy mud. Rain falling. Everything is literally going through the same thing that you feel. Almost like it simplifies you, like the whole world is on the side of your feelings.

Is this how love should be? Painful?. You thought it's about happiness, feeling of satisfaction, the feeling of being loved, cherished, cared for, admiration but none of those feelings even went through your life. For you love is all about sadness, betrayal, hurtful, harmful, it will only hurt you and you should run before you even bury yourself in that stupid love that everyone believes and that's what you're doing right now. Running for your life.

Running for your remaining life that was drained because of that stupid love. No one can love you and no one will love you and that's all you have to believe. No more stupid butterflies, no more sweet kisses, no more romantic music, no more slow dance. You must bury them. No more.

Birds crys as well as you as well, falling onto your knees begging your heart to stop beating just to make the pain go away. Nothing is left, you're drained out.

It's raining cats and dogs. He tries to find a big tree to stop over and let the rain at least calm down. He settled himself under a hundred years old bristlecone pine tree. The cold blaze made him shivers, both arms find its way to wrap around his chest while watching the rain drops end in mud. As he's about to sit after an exhausting day he spotted a huge pile of fabric laying on the slippy wet ground.

The thing that instantly went to his thoughts is that he can use it so that at least he could keep himself warm under the cold blaze and rain drops pouring out. He walked towards it, pulling and forcing to take it in his direction when he suddenly noticed something. It's not just a pile of fabric but a woman. He was stunned and didn't know what to do but eventually he did what anyone would do if they are in the same situation and that is to help the girl and pick her up. He put her down under the tree and started wiping her face covered in mud. Looking at her unconscious face the man couldn't help but to memorize the beauty of the girl he's facing right now. He could feel his chest wanting to be ripped and offer his heart to the lady.

He chuckled and slapped himself to wake up from his dream. There's no way this woman would like him. Not when he's the laughing stock of the ton with his ugly face and poverty. No one would want to even be with him.

After an hour, the cloud finally stopped crying. He fixed himself and settled to leave but before he went. The man knee down offering the unconscious girl his bottle of water and some food. Clearly he's not a fool or that kind to just take a woman to his house and be that chaos in his life and he made that clear after looking at her for the last time before he walked away and went home.

Door cracks letting the other person know her brother is back. She turned around and immediately offered warm fabric that will help him dry himself.

"Have you heard the commotion in the kingdom? The princess is missing brother." The teen said while helping her brother to take his shoe off and put down his things.

The elder sighs and looks at his sister. "How many times do I have to tell you to not get yourself involved in those kingdom and palace things Myani".

"But brother-" as the younger one tried to defend herself her brother cut her off "No more Myani, no more".

He left her sighing and went straight to the table where his sister prepared food for both.

"The ton talks about the reward that they will get as soon as they find the princess, they said it a huge amount of gold and-"

"MYANI!!" Everything went silent after the man shouted. He angrily threw his food away and went out shutting the door behind her. She silently eats her food while looking down, instantly regretting everything she has done.

"Excuse me, may I ask for your help?" He turned around and saw the same lady he saw on the Forest just an hour ago. "What do you want" he said directly asking her. "Food a-and clothes if ever" she said.

It took a few minutes of his stares to finally let her in his house, offering her food and clothes that are owned by his sister. "What's your name? You're so beautiful" Myani asked. Looking at her soft skin and flawless features truly made her amazed by her beauty. "Wait are you princess?!" She asked excitedly.

"I-I am. I'm Y/n and you are?" You asked making the teen jump around in happiness. "Are you seriously the princess? But they said you run away, why? Don't you like being the Princess?." You were taken aback by the sudden question and the man seems to notice that even if he's standing a little far away from you.

"Myani that's enough, go and sleep now" as the man commanded, the teen couldn't do anything besides listen with a pout in between her lips.

"T-thanks, it's uncomfortable talking about it." You said. You continue eating your food while being watched by him.

"I'm returning you tomorrow." He said.

You stopped eating and look at him in horror, that's the least thing you thought about after meeting him.

"I'm no harm" you said with a low voice as the fear began to eat your entire brain and soul. Just the image of you returning to that hell is the end of you.

"You, yourself here is going to be the end of mine and my sister's life. I think you're aware that the king is already out there looking for you ready to throw a kn'fe in anyone's throat just to find you is that what you meant by not a harm?" He said while looking at you dead in the eye.

"Please don't, I'll do everything you want just please don't bring me back to that cruel monster." You immediately stood up and kneel In front of him but your begging seems to not have touched his heart a bit.

With a heavy heart you immediately stood up and decided to offer yourself to him, pulling the stand of your clothes and eventually stood up nked right to his face. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Do whatever you want but please don't take me away from here. This is the only place I feel safe so please I'm begging you." His warm hand grabbed your shoulder. "You don't have to offer yourself, princess. But I hope you understand that I only care about my sister's safety." Picking your clothes and covering your exposed bdy with it before leaving you behind being helpless.

"What do you want?" The king asked.

"Peaceful life away from all your sins and evilness." Jungwoon said making the king laugh.

"You still haven't changed a bit brother. You came here offering me my beautiful bride just to ask me for a peaceful life? Chaotic. I have my word written in stone that whoever brings me the princess back will get whatever they want and you're actually the one who did so without feather question being asked just tell me what you want. Anything." The king said.

"I already said what I want" Jungwoon said making the king laugh once again.

"I think you're aware that the only place where you can live peacefully is dea'h right?, I believe that's where you wanted to go as well as our sister Myani right?."

As soon as the king said that, jungwoon couldn't help himself and immediately threw a hard punch in the king's face. "She doesn't have a monster brother like you. I'm trying to give her a good life!! away from your evilness!!"

Jungkook just laughed. "You're acting so pathetic, just admit it, you want my throne, you're jealous and furious about me being the king and not you, and it's because you're ugly and unwillingly for our people to follow your order with that kind of face, they even said you're the monster here."

Jungkook stared at his twin and shoke his head before pulling jungwoon's hate tightly making the other twin kneel in front of him. "Who would have thought that you're my own twin, we're nothing alike, you're the disaster between the two of us."

"You know what I actually wanted to see Myani if she suffered the same fate as you." With that jungwoon fight over trying to pin down the king but couldn't. "Don't you dare come closer to her!! I've already given her up for you!! So don't you dare touch Myani with your dirty hand." Jungwoon stated.

"Oh yeah, Y/n my beautiful wife, isn't she beautiful? So you actually reunited with our other sister last night huh, did you tell Myani about her Being her sister and her soon to be sister in law?" Jungkook smirked.

"You're cruel" Jungkook looked at Jungwoon for the last time before his knights threw him out of the castle.

"Please stop. Stop this please I'm your sister. " You begged him to stop but he didn't, begging him only made him feel more in power, more in control and that's the feeling he loved the most.

"And I'm your king, your husband." He said and growled after burying himself deep ins'de you. Your screams are like music to his ears.

"At least you've met your brother and sister before you get locked in this castle again. Don't worry my love, we will fill this kingdom with our numerous children." The king started making you lose your mind.

You don't know how long you can handle the chaotic happening in your life right now.

He's clearly not yet satisfied, he pulled you up and slapped your face. Several servants entered his chamber nked. You're drugged down, pin in bed as they hold your both hand and feet, offering you to their king.

The sensation is so good, so euphoric, hard ridges rubbing against your cl't as he slides into you. You almost forget about the other, but then he starts working his way into your a's, grunting with exertion as you m'an. Too much, too big, too full. You just couldn't help yourself.

Your head is spinning, your entire body on fire as he thr'sts in time. It feels like you’re being torn apart, and yet each stroke electrifies your nerves, sending waves of pleasure up your spine and through your limbs.

Your climax is forceful, your c'nt and a's clamping down on them as you cry out, tears blurring your vision as ecstasy overpowers you. Moments later, the king let his own groans, sticky seed filling you, overfilling you, dripping down your a's and between your th'ghs.

"This is the welcome greetings that I always want from you. But next time I'll make sure you won't escape me again." He said before pulling you up again. Tied you up in the chair and made you watch him doing himself with his sinful m'an calling out your name.

[tsukasalvr]

# BLACK HAIR (DARK CONTENT, DEAD DOVE:DO NOT EAT)

“It’s just what you did, don’t hang up the phone, I love you to death” — ALEX G:BLACK HAIR

Scaramouche x reader

AN: Very much vent post, everything’s getting worse and my friends and family are becoming worried for my safety bc of my sh and my past attempt and I refuse to get help rn but maybe soon so here’s a vent ff cus it’s late and my fav guy character in the game

Warnings!: DARK CONTENT, DEAD DOVE:DO NOT EAT, suicide, cannibalism, self harm, describing of cannibalism and organs, slight description of self harm, slight yandere!Scaramouche, captive/kidnapped reader, don’t like this? don’t interact, this is my vent post, was actually dozing off while writing so might make changes in the future

SYNOPSIS: Each day you feel colder and colder in his arms, and it irritates him every time he’s next to you.

He was never one to stay focus on one thing for too long—being stuck in the past can be messy.

But even then he always went back to you, always going back to the room you were kept in. The pristine white walls and floors so clean you could see your reflection, even now after weeks he still made sure the room was tidy. The large bed in the middle of the room with silk sheets, the softest pillows that you could sink your head in with a mattress that you could just die in from how comfortable you would feel to go with.

A thick blanket over you, he pulled it ever so slightly up to make sure you wouldn’t get cold but it only seemed to stick onto your bruised oozing body being glued onto the bed from the blood-containing foam leaks. But even then all he could feel when he rubbed your cheekbones in his delicate hands was cold. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make you warm.

It irritated him.

No matter how many times he stayed in bed beside you and held you in his arms, you were still cold. Every night he would fall into a routine, lay beside you, and watch for any movement but the only movement and sounds he could detect was the maggots crawling in and out of a large cavity in your chest. He didn’t care enough to clean it up, not when the sounds were the only thing keeping him from spiraling in the silence of the room.

Gently rubbing his fingers back and down your wrist, watching the skin the tighten then loosen again around the white and purple scars. Feeling the bumps every time he did. He pitied you, every time he would visit your room, he would see your trembling figure with a new blazing red scar each time in your wrists and legs, and each time he would scold you for it. Maybe that’s why he carved into your chest a week after it happened, he pitied you, maybe that’s why he took your heart from your chest to feel the damp and spongy organ in his hand, feeling the still cold blood running through his hand and dripping onto his clothes. He pitied you, that’s why he took your heart, to protect you, you were too weak and needed protecting. That’s why you did what you did.

But still, why did it bother him? Why did it bother him that you were still so cold in his hands, he pitied you is all so why does it still bother him after these six weeks.

Why did it make him feel so alone the moment he saw you dangling figure on the ceiling, swaying slightly as if it was recent. Hanging from many clothes wrapped and tied tightly—clothes he bought you. The brushing around your neck was the only thing there, no irritation—no signs of struggle or regret. It’s like you actually wanted to do this and he couldn’t believe it.

You really did need him by your side after all, is what he would tell himself. You were so weak willed that you had the audacity to take your own life, it only meant that you had a weak spirit since before you met him. It wasn’t his fault.

He had no part in this and he should still feel the same after, so why does it still bother him, why does he feel so empty now that your gone. He just feels even more of an empty vessel.

Carefully holding the non-beating heart in his hand, the rich red color contrasting from his ghostly pale slim hands as he sat down on the bed beside you. Feeling the maggots crawling around near his feet. He brought the heart to his face, inhaling and hoping for any sort of the warm sweet smell you had—but all he could smell was rot and decay. The gas was foul, your corpse emitting a rotting-flesh and shit like odor—and Scaramouche had no doubt that any agents who passed by could detect the smell and would hurl from it. He wonders what they would think if they walked in and saw the sight. The sight of him looking dazed sitting next to your decomposing body, your disgusting rotting body.

Bringing the cold organ to his lips, he pressed a light kiss onto it, red smearing his lips slightly. He sat there with one knee touching your cold-naked blemished leg, watching the heart as the glow of the moon came in from the locked window in the room, through the think durable glass panes with hand smudges. Emotionless, he stared for a bit…

And a bit longer…

And even more longer he stared…

Until he opened his mouth and bit into the wet organ. He always imagined it would be difficult to eat like this… but it felt so natural. It was chewy and had a bitter taste but it left an aftertaste that left thinking of you, as if you were still there shaking and crying beside him. It was difficult to chew at times, it was tough, he could feel the lumpy-grained texture as it swirled around his mouth trying to get chewed apart by his teeth.

So he took another bite, and then another before deciding he had enough and put the heart down onto the white blanket, making sure it was away from the maggots slowly crawling.

He didn’t even realize the smile that appeared until his face started to hurt from the stretch. It was like both you and him were one and it made him feel happy.

He took the duvet and wrapped the heart in it with ease despite the size of the cover, and placed it carefully on the floor next to the bed.

l could live like this he thinks, he won’t feel so alone anymore and you won’t feel so cold to him no longer he thinks, as he smiles and shifts closer to your sluggish body, despite the absence of a blanket, he doesn’t feel so cold and alone anymore, and gets close enough to place his head on top of yours, right on top of the dirty-matted hair.

Was dozing off and falling asleep at times while making this, so I’ll rewrite a couple things in the future

[savagebisand]

The girls are fighting but who brawled first and Who Makes Mew 180 Next Ep? From disgust and disbelief at Rays accusations to Confronting Top...

Seen a couple theories posited that the SandRay fight is actually before the RayMew fight and at first I was like there is no way buuttt now I'm thinking about it more I can see a scenario playing out

Imagine Ray is riled up by that point and hellbent on telling Mew what he discussed with Boston earlier, they argue about Rays choice to tell Mew what he knows about Top and Ton because Sand just seems the person to go that's only gonna make it worse, Ray is refusing to listen and Sand snaps with "can't you focus on me instead" and Ray who is now Decidedly Pissed Treble because Sand is not listening and agreeing, everyone is lying to his best friend and wants him to play along aNd Sand wants to ask him to pick right now to focus on their issues instead. This is quite frankly far too much for Rays smooth pretty rich brain to problem solve at once. He tells Sand he has no business in it and what even are they to each other anyway and when Sand can't really answer the question bc isn't that Rays choice, enough is enough. Sand is in his way and he's on a mission, so an already desperate and exhausted Ray shoves Sand aside. Literally. Goes in all guns blazing to tell Mew a truth he thinks Mew deserves because how can this possibly go wrong? Ray is being good. He is looking after the person he said he would save back.

Mew, on the other hand, does not want and is not ready for this truth especially not from a rowdy Ray who has always had an issue with Top and kissed him just last week anyway. This is jealousy talking right? What else should Mew think when Ray just told Mew he hasn't moved on from him in years and still loves him. Oh the tragedy. But oh the glee. Because if this is the case and Sand follows Ray back in to battle because FFS he's infuriating but he cant leave Ray in that state and seemingly picks Ray up from his mortal kombat style finish him blow from Mew (again literally and metaphorically). There is ample room for Sand taking a hurt and shell shocked Ray home and providing that oh so sweet hurt/comfort. Perhaps we will get SandRay patching bruises up together, finally. Perhaps they can finally have that communication they blocked off last ep. That is, ya know, before Ray realises without Mew as a bluff he might actually be allowed to love Sand and that's impossible, time to push Sand away with five times the force.

Sidenote: It is very interesting to observe that Nick is there as well. Now Sand did not shock me after all he's the bar singer and that is the bar, he may not be there for Mew but this is where we find Sand anyway when Ray isn't with him. But Nick? Nick has never entered that bar space before, in a way it hasn't tainted him the way it has all the others. It's another thing he hasn't been exposed to that sets him apart. But suddenly Nick is there in this world with the core four once again seeing different sides of them. Arguably, he has no business being there, he's not friends with them really and Boston has never made a point of showing him off before unless it benefits Ton to do so (e.g. the pool party where Nick was in charge of a specific job). He could be there for Sand which, again, is interesting.

Even more intriguingly, we can see Title's character in the background of the RayMew fight scene. Evidently, this character is significant somehow, enough to be in the opening credits. I'm very much side eyeing what his role is here and now of all moments. I do think there's a strong chance after Nick witnesses RayMews showdown, he takes it upon himself to confirm what Ray claims to Mew. I don't see Mew believing anyone else but someone seemingly inconsequential, with no reason to lie other than Nick. And we do have the TopMew fight in this ep as well so evidently Mew starts believing Rays talk at some point.

The only other possibility I could see right now is feral protective Sand trying to back Ray up, pissed as hell that Rays pretty face looks so beat up and devastated, by throwing an off hand comment out that makes Mew double take and realise Ray is telling the truth because again he approves of Sand, thinks Sand is lovely and doesn't see why he'd lie. Sand knows as much as Nick does so either of them have the potential to be candidates Mew would rather hear the hard truth from.

Then again, sometimes this show blindsides us into thinking there will be more drama than there really is. It's quite possible Mew only starts to believe what Ray claims because one of Tops ex flings crops up and gives mew some sort of vague warning that seems to corroborate things mew had already noticed and ignored and what Ray was accusing Top of. I'd rather it be Nick personally cause I love that crazy gone girl. But I do agree with others who have pointed out Mew and Ton have another confrontation later which is more likely to be about the cheating, in which case it makes sense for Nick to bite his tongue for now esp since Boston is currently where Nick wants and being more "coupley" toward him and if Mew and Top have relationship drama, it may only push Ton toward Top more again.

That does lead me to wonder if Sand being the one to back Ray up in this RayMew showdown and make Mew doubt Top where Ray couldn't is what prompts Nick and Sands fight where Nick claims Sand has embarrassed him and hurt his feelings and Sand argues why should you care, he's an asshole. I could see why Nick would be hurt and annoyed if Sand telling Mew causes issues for Nick and Ton because ya know Boston's in a pissy since Mew is off with him, Tops giving him shit since clearly Boston gave shit away and perhaps Sand even lets something slip like "just ask Nick" which is why HE personally is embarrassed cause now Ton is also onto him. Also Sand stands with the most to gain. It pushes Ray into his arms more to be there for him when everyone else is dismissing him, esp Mew and Sand doesn't like Top in the first place and knows Top has a habit of carelessly fucking other people and putting his feelings first.

But this is only friends, maybe in reality the argument RayMew have isn't even about Top anymore by the end of it, maybe what Ray tells Boston he knows which clearly makes Boston nervous has nothing to do with BostonTop at all. From the small snippets we have we truly have barely any context but these are some scenarios I'd like for the timeline of things.

[trans-rights-adam-jensen]

Adam Jensen's Detroit apartment trivia--tiny details

I just went ahead and made a list of things I think the Wiki should have but doesn't.

Meds that adam has in his apartment:

-chromium supplements

-atocyl (skin wipes)

-paracetamol

-nuronex 

-not a medication, but tracheostomy sponges (wound dressings for areas around drains)

Adam keeps his apartment at 59F??? BRO IM SHIVERING

Some of the notes on his wall are "the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog" (from relearning how to write) ; ;

Books that adam has in his apartment:

Format: Title (author(s))

Gurus (like part of a type of book series) SWAT

Feeding the fires of babylon

child and violence

encyclopedia alumnica (entire set)

vernix (samuel wale, an irl book illustrator)

self gratification

Human Traffic (Birck ??? and ???)

being more effective

sick management tactics (Jim Doughe?)

desk rooster

forging the bonds

living with your new cybernetic prosthetic, 2nd edition, all you need to know about treatments, recovery and functionality (J. Bowkett and G. Moreau)

a detailed history of cybernetics

guns blazing

hairy plumber(?) (spine resembles harry potter and the deathly hollows, likely a parody)

the planet of cakes

man in armor (william ???)

resolving conflicts (marcus larson)

the many levels of hate (Ben Ayotte)

Fatal Feet (FF) (sidenote, this is the kind of shit I would put as filler stuff at 2am on level design too, man)

La Colonna Spezzata

Narcotics 

Life and Regrets (Adam Manyoki)

Laws of Detroit 

Laws of Detroit II

Orpheus Slain (Johanna Kirsch)

Chaos theory unraveled

the act of gratuitous violence

general tao: the man behind the chicken

tactical manual volume 1 

Tactical manual (thicker alternate book to volume 1) 

clubbing the incompetent brain

Mechanics

Police force and ethics 

using force for peace (Berth Morisot) (howling at the title oh god)

under heavy fire

sports encyclopedia (phil zelzork)

police tech-???

on the brink of oblivion (johnson)

(???? title in cursive)

No I did not put how many copies he had of each. That would have melted my brain.

[druidx]

WIP Intro - Her Countenance was Light

~SYNOPSIS~

The 1970s, twenty years after the rebuilding of Toreguard, semi-retired Sergeant Elowyn O'Toreguarde is called in for a new case - the murder of her childhood best friend, Evelyn Strucker. When the King of estranged Iceland turns up for an unexpected visit, the Triumvirate Council force O'Toreguarde to play tour guide, passing the murder case to her subordinates. But it doesn't completely leave her hands. A strange set of circumstances reveals an ethereal side to the City, filled with secrets. Secrets which may hold the key to Evelyn's murder.

~DETAILS~

Genre: Crime/ Urban Fantasy Type: Novel POV: Third person limited, predominantly Present tense Themes: Grief/ mourning, Change is neutral, Accepting who you are, Mercy is the preferred choice Aesthetic: Dieselpunk, Detective Noir, Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales Status: Technical editing. Posting weekly on Archive of Our Own and Tumblr. Tags: #WIP 'Her Countenance was Light' (All posts inc. meta info); #HCWL Chapters Only (Follow this tag for only the chapters in posting order)

~MAIN CHARACTERS~

Elowyn O'Toreguarde - F, Sergeant-Detective, Freeman of the City

Johan Strucker - M, Evelyn's Father, General, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

Storri Nargondsson - M, King of Iceland

Lerrald Brauma - M, Master of the Exchequer, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

~MINOR CHARACTERS~

Farren Breakwood - M, Constable-Detective, Elo's Police partner

Thazaar Clayrmantle - M, Acting Magister, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

Snotgrut - M, Unusual fellow. Curiosity. Shouldn't exist. ???

Meredith Gruksdottir - F, Bodyguard of K. Storri, Old friend of Elo's

Yoruk Copperheart - M, Bodyguard of K. Storri, Husband of Merri

Irvine Cobbleskater - M, Constable, subordinate of Elo

~OTHER STUFF~

Written for NaNoWriMo 2017. Technically a Modern, Mundane-ish AU of a TTRPG set in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan. Formerly known as "FF/T Modern-Ish AU".

The plot is... not something I would normally write, and for a long while I hated it. Then I thought it was a too cringy, and tried to 'fix' it, only to give up. Now, on a recent re-read, I think this is the shape this story has always had to have. So I've decided to suck it up and get it ready for posting, so at least it's out there and not loitering on my hard drive.

Title is from a traditional song, Besse Bunting, arranged by Mediæval Bæbes.

~EXCERPT~

She cuts through a narrow alley of dark soot-stained brick, trots down a short set of steps and onto the flagged towpath next to the canal. There is an improvised bridge up ahead that will allow her to pass over the canal closer to where the station lies. She has run this route a hundred times, she knows every nook and cranny along this path, so when she reaches where the bridge should be, and finds it missing, she is perturbed, but not worried. Maybe someone finally reported the ramshackle thing, made of old boards and stolen scaffolding.

It was quick work though, she thinks as she back-tracks to where a tree clings to the bank. The bridge was still there when she came home in the early evening. She shakes the thought aside as she unhooks a rope swing from the tree. It's been a while since she had to use it, but she's in a hurry and has no time for the uncertainty that tries to drape over her like a cloak. With a running start, she jumps. It is only as she enters the apex of the swing that she realises something is wrong. The weight of the rope is too heavy, it shifts alarmingly as she reaches the apex of the swing. Then it has snapped, and she is falling, and she cannot remove her hands from the tacky surface of the rope, and the water is closing in over her head, and she thinks she sees the blaze of red eyes on the bank as she sinks through the darkness.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

To all members of FF......kokichi prevented the nuclear radiation from spreading across japan......at the cost of his own life.

...I see...

...

The Future Foundation...really is incompetent...isn't it?

Kyoko?

In the end...an innocent civilian, who should have had nothing to do with this conflict...sacrificed himself to save not just us, but all of Hiroshima...Meanwhile, all we could do was watch and let him die for us...

...

*Makoto takes her hand.

He knew what he was doing...I don't know Kokichi as well as the likes of Shuichi or Kuripa, but he was a smart and intellectual guy.

I don't think he would have been willing to go out if it wasn't in a blaze of glory like this. And besides, he may not have been with Future Foundation, but he had things to fight for.

It's not like I think we should shrug his sacrifice off but...We can't let it stop us from what we're about to do. Thanks to him...

*Makoto looks towards the crater.

It's...finally over...

Yes...it's over...

*He wraps his arm around her.

Let's pack our things and go home...

[zhalar]

i was trying to reply to the post of yours i just liked and almost blazed it instead why are the buttons so close to each other.............. aNYWAY i only saw it now, and it feels A Bit weird two weeks later to be like Oh Hey. but. i've never been able to shut up in my life so! Oh Hey. i had to move to your ask box bcs the reply thing's word limit was like shut the fuck up!!! but. so. i don't even have anything useful to say except i'm 24 and started studying for my degree when i was like 19 and i still Don't Fucking Have It and in between i've moved like four times and am almost broke and saurrrr unemployed and Local Employers Hate Area Woman-Ish bcs of my very unsexy mental illness and lack of work experience. and i also fucking hate dishes and cleaning and groceries and everything IS stupid! we could all be eating berries and raising chickens and doing weird art in the woods! and maybe we should! all that to say that your vent was Extremely Relatable. modern society is a harsh maze. and shit's scary!! but i see you. and i'm rooting for you, for what it's worth 🐻🌻🍀🍄💕 and i hope the rest of your summer is good and joyful and everything goes smoothly with school and everything!! <3 good vibes and cheers ✨

YOURE SO SWEET TO REACH OUT TO MY SANGSTY (sad/angsty) VENT-POST OOOHHH places a fresh and washed stone fruit or suchlike of your choice onto your palm as a form of thanks....... im sorry to have left you hanging with my answering this btw, it was my last work day for the summer today and i didnt dare to open the message last night in case i got so distracted that the lateness woulda got me lol. love to plan my every move within the bounds of a work-life schedule. btw fully dying-laughing about the possibility of you somehow accidentally blazing that post CAN YOU IMAGINE DSHFKJGH

im real sorry that the general sentiment of that post resonated, sucks how we're ALL constantly in the trenches, here :-( (and also a bit sheepishly sorry if my vent caused any alarm or whatnot... sometimes it alll just gets to be oh so much and one must air their grievances out to the world unprompted like that. grhyeah..) truly would Shrimply Love To Own Chickens and Thatse It. my viiru&pesonen -fantasy lifted its head once again this summer, i meannnn now thaaaaats what i'd call living!! ffs!!!!

i would never ask you to shut up the reply-feature does Not reflect my views and opinions in case you were wondering. for real this msg brightened this day considerably, youre both a complete sweetheart and so fucking funny for the formatting and tone of this ask, good lord. hopefully you'll have some easier times going forward, typically i wouldnt wish a job onto my worst enemy but i also recognize how that is something thats uhhh, quite valuable actually, indeed, so in that sense im beaming some fking sense into your local employers' brains. [HIRE THEM!!!!!!!! for some NICE TASK!!!!!] I HOPE YOUR SUMMER THUSFAR HAS BEEN COOL AND FUN!!! and that the rest of it/the upcoming august treat you well also <3

[brucenorris007]

*spin kicks through a window*

Hi, hello, officials of SEGA, I am me:

I understand that there’s a reluctance to bring back the Freedom Fighters in any real capacity, let alone putting them in any games. And that’s fair. Integrating the Archie cast back into things after the-at least two-reboots failed to salvage the comics would be... difficult, for a number of reasons

That being said, I do have a proposal for a fairly tidy method of introducing the characters back into the canon:

Establish the Acorn monarchy as an authority in Blaze’s dimension. I have thoughts on the fact that Blaze is apparently sometimes referred to as Her Highness despite wielding considerably more autonomy than one would expect of a monarch, even monarchs we’ve seen in the games before; the idea that her standing as royalty was given to her as a title of sorts to bestow that autonomy to, for instance, travel to Sonic’s dimension for things as relatively trivial as his birthday, would be interesting

Obviously visiting her friends wasn’t the original idea for her use of that agency when it’s given to her; it exists more so that she can efficiently perform her role as the guardian of her dimension and the Sol Emeralds. And that creates a cool contrast to Sonic, her counterpart. Sonic’s agency stems from being Some Guy beholden to nobody but himself. Blaze’s agency stems, at least somewhat, from the authority given to her.

Could also bring back rogues from Archie for the Kingdom and the FF to handle separate from Blaze, occasionally calling on her for aid should the need arise. The power struggle between Ixis and the Acorn family would fit better in such a setting, and Blaze is halfway a magic girl anyway.

I seem to remember that part of Blaze’s initial resistance to befriending and/or relying on others was born from injuring people with her fire at a young age before she learned to control it. Could add another source of tension in the relationships she has with people if one of the people she injured was Sally, or Sally’s friend/bodyguard, Antoine.

Who knows what else could be done. It’d bring back characters a lot of fans miss, and also provide the chance to flesh out Blaze as a character and her standing in her dimension separate from Sonic or Silver.

That’s all I have for your consideration. Good day.

*power slides through a locked door*

[novaursa]

The Fire That Binds Us

- Summary: The aftermath of Blood and Cheese. Aegon and you find comfort in each other once more, and later, make plans with your council for attack on Rook's Rest.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. Aegon has two surviving children with a reader. And the reader is bonded with a dragon called Starfyre. These events happen after The Silent Pyre and before Eternal Blaze. If you want to read all parts in chronological order you can find a list of my works on my blog. The list is pinned on the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 613

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The echoes of the past haunt the halls of the Red Keep, each stone a silent witness to the horrors that have unfolded within. The shadows of mourning drape over the castle like a shroud, heavier than any nightfall. Your chambers, once filled with the innocent laughter of your sons, are now cloaked in a grief that is too vast, too consuming to ever truly fade.

You sit by the window, staring out at the sky where Starfyre soared a week ago, her radiant scales shimmering like the night sky filled with stars. But even the memory of her brilliance cannot pierce the darkness that has taken root in your heart. The weight of your grief presses down on you, suffocating, as if the air itself has turned to stone. Your body feels numb, cold—almost as if you’ve become as lifeless as the small bodies that were taken from you so cruelly.

The door creaks open, but you don’t turn your head. You already know who it is. Her presence, once comforting, now brings only pain, a reminder of the tragedy that unfolded under her helpless watch.

"My sweet girl," Alicent’s voice trembles as she speaks. There is a rawness to it, a wound that has never healed. "You must eat something. You haven’t touched a morsel in days."

Her words fall flat, meaningless. How can she speak of food when your very soul feels starved, stripped of the light that your sons brought into your life? Aeron and Vaelon—they were your stars, bright and full of life. And now they are gone, snuffed out by the cruelty of war, by the hatred of your own blood.

You shake your head slowly, the movement taking more effort than it should. “I can’t, Mother. I can’t stomach anything. The thought of food…” Your voice breaks, a sob threatening to escape, but you force it down. You’ve cried too much already, and yet the tears never seem to run dry.

Alicent’s face crumples, her own sorrow breaking through the fragile mask of strength she tries to maintain. She reaches out, her hand trembling as she places it on yours, the warmth of her touch only a painful reminder of what you’ve lost. "Please, Y/N, you must take care of yourself—for Daena and Baelon. They need their mother."

Her words, though well-meaning, feel like another weight upon your chest. How can you be a mother to the children you still have when your heart is buried with the ones who are gone? The sight of Daena’s silver hair, so much like Aeron’s, and Baelon’s innocent smile, a mirror of Vaelon’s, only twist the knife deeper into your soul.

You pull your hand away, the motion sharp and cold. “And why haven't you warned anyone, Mother, when they came in to take my sons?” The bitterness in your voice surprises even you, but it’s a poison you cannot hold back. “You were there before me, in the nursery. But you didn't scream or resist, you just surrendered to them as they gagged you.”

Alicent’s breath catches, her eyes wide with shock and guilt, the guilt she has carried since that cursed night. You know it’s unfair, that she did all she could, but the rage within you needs an outlet, needs someone to blame besides the nameless killers who stole your children away.

“I tried,” Alicent whispers, her voice breaking as tears well in her eyes. “I tried to stop them, Y/N, you know it. I held Aeron in my arms with you, I tried to save him, but—” She chokes on her words, unable to continue as she’s overcome by the memory. “I felt his blood on my hands... I can still feel it, and it haunts me every night. Please, forgive me.”

But forgiveness is a luxury you cannot afford. You stand abruptly, the motion causing a wave of dizziness to crash over you, but you refuse to let it pull you down. You walk away from her, your steps unsteady, and collapse onto the edge of the bed that once held your children when they were babes, now cold and empty.

Before you can say anything more, the door opens again, and Aegon steps into the room. His presence is both a balm and a wound, for he too is a reminder of what you’ve lost—of what you both have lost.

“Leave us,” Aegon says to his mother, his voice a low command. Alicent hesitates, her eyes flickering between you and Aegon, but she knows better than to argue. With a final, sorrowful look, she exits the room, leaving you alone with your husband.

Aegon approaches you slowly, as if afraid that you might shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. And perhaps you will. He kneels before you, his hands gently taking yours, and the warmth of his touch makes you flinch. How can anything be warm in a world so cold?

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with his own grief. “My love, my sister… please, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lift your gaze to meet his. His eyes, so much like yours, are filled with pain, with sorrow, and with a rage that simmers just beneath the surface. The rage that has kept him going, kept him breathing, when all you want to do is stop.

“We will avenge them,” he swears, his grip on your hands tightening, as if he can tether you to life through sheer force of will. “Rhaenyra and Daemon will pay for what they’ve done. I swear it on the blood of our sons.”

His words are meant to comfort, to give you some semblance of hope, but they only deepen the chasm within you. You pull your hands from his grasp, turning your head away. “Vengeance won’t bring them back, Aegon,” you murmur, your voice hollow, devoid of the fire that once burned within you. “No matter how much blood you spill, it won’t return Aeron or Vaelon to us.”

Aegon’s face hardens at your words, the pain in his eyes turning to steel. “But it will make them pay,” he insists, his voice rising with the anger he cannot contain. “It will make them suffer as we suffer.”

You shake your head, tears finally spilling over as your resolve crumbles. “I don’t want more suffering, Aegon. I just want our boys back.” Your voice breaks into a sob, and you collapse into his arms, the weight of your grief finally pulling you under.

Aegon holds you tightly, his own tears falling silently as he presses his face into your hair. “I know,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I know, my love. And I would give anything to bring them back. But all I have left is this rage, this need for vengeance. I can’t let their deaths go unanswered. I can’t.”

You cling to him, the only solid thing in a world that has crumbled around you, and for a moment, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, his vengeance will bring you some peace. But deep down, you know that nothing will ever fill the void left by your sons. Nothing will ever make you whole again.

Aegon’s arms tighten around you as if he could shield you from all the pain in the world, as if his embrace alone could mend the shattered pieces of your heart. His breath is warm against your hair, mingling with your tears as you bury your face against his chest. For a moment, the world outside ceases to exist; there is no war, no death, no sorrow—only the two of you, clinging to each other in the darkness.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so that your eyes meet his. There’s a tenderness in his gaze that you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity, a softness that cuts through the cold numbness within you. Slowly, as if testing the fragile connection between you, Aegon leans in and brushes his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, almost tentative, as though he’s afraid of breaking you further. But when you respond, when your lips part to welcome him, a hunger sparks between you—a need for closeness, for the comfort that only each other can provide. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if you can fill the void left by your grief with each touch, each breath shared between you.

His hands move to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the lingering tears as he kisses you again, this time with a fierceness born of longing. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a plea, a silent cry for the connection that has been stolen from you both by the weight of your loss. And you answer it, pouring every ounce of your sorrow, your love, your need into him, hoping that he can feel it, that he understands.

“Aegon,” you whisper against his lips, your voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t let me go. Not tonight.”

“Never,” he breathes, his words a vow as he pulls you closer still, his hands beginning to roam, tracing the curves of your body as if reassuring himself that you are still here, still real.

The need for each other becomes overwhelming, a tidal wave that sweeps you both under, and before you know it, he’s guiding you to lay on the bed. The same bed where you’ve spent countless nights in tears, in mourning, now becomes a sanctuary, a place where you can find solace in each other.

He lays you down gently, as though you’re something precious, fragile. But there’s no haste in his movements, no rush as he leans over you, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You reach up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw, his lips, memorizing the feel of him beneath your hands.

“We’ve been lost for so long,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you, Aegon. I need to feel alive again.”

“And you will,” he promises, his voice rough with emotion as he begins to undress you, each piece of clothing slipping away like the layers of grief that have kept you apart. “I need you too, Y/N. You’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

There’s something sacred in the way he touches you, in the way he lays you bare before him, his hands reverent as they caress your skin. You respond in kind, your fingers working to undo the ties and clasps of his own garments, your need for him growing with every second, every inch of skin revealed.

When there is nothing left between you, no barriers of cloth or grief, he pauses, his gaze sweeping over you as if committing you to memory. The weight of the world seems to lift in that moment, the sorrow and rage fading into the background as all that matters is this—this moment, this connection.

He leans down to kiss you again, his lips lingering on yours as his body presses against yours, the warmth of him chasing away the cold that has settled in your bones. The kiss deepens, growing more intense, more desperate, and you lose yourself in the sensation, in the feel of him—of Aegon, your husband, your twin, your other half.

As his hands roam your body, exploring the familiar terrain with a tenderness that borders on worship, you feel something shift within you. It’s not just about the physical act, not just about seeking comfort in each other’s touch. It’s about reclaiming something that was taken from you—your love, your bond, your life together.

When he finally joins with you, it’s like coming home. The world falls away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you are whole. There are no words, only the sounds of your shared breaths, the gasps and sighs that fill the room as you move together, as you find solace in each other’s arms.

But as you reach the peak of your passion, as the world seems to blur around the edges, you find your voice again, whispering his name like a prayer, like a promise. “Aegon… we will survive this. We have to.”

“We will,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion, with the weight of the love and the grief you share. “As long as we have each other, we will.”

The words are a vow, a promise that despite everything, despite the darkness that surrounds you, you will endure.

And as the night fades into dawn, as the first light of morning filters through the curtains, you find a fragile peace in each other’s arms, a brief respite from the pain that has become your constant companion. It’s not a cure, it’s not an end to your sorrow, but it’s enough—enough to remind you that you are still alive, that you still have each other.

And that, for now, is enough.

The days following your shared moment with Aegon are a blur of whispered plans and unspoken grief, the fragile peace you found together now threatened by the storm brewing within the walls of the Red Keep. The small council meeting looms ahead, a gathering of minds meant to steer the course of the war, but you can already feel the tension crackling in the air like a brewing tempest.

As you and Aegon make your way to the council chambers, his hand rests lightly on the small of your back, a silent reassurance that you’re in this together. But you know him too well—there’s a fire in his eyes that betrays his intentions, a need for action that cannot be quelled by mere words.

The council chamber is already filled when you arrive, the lords and advisors gathered around the table, their faces set in various shades of concern and determination. Lord Tayland is whispering something to Grand Maester Orwyle, while Lord Jasper taps his fingers impatiently on the table. Ser Criston Cole stands by the door, his gaze sharp as he watches you and Aegon enter. Prince Aemond, your younger brother, is already seated, his one good eye burning with intensity. Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, occupies his usual place, his expression unreadable as always, but you sense the unease lurking beneath his composed exterior.

“Let us begin,” Aegon announces, his voice carrying the weight of command as he takes his seat at the head of the table. You settle beside him, your presence more than ceremonial—Aegon has insisted that you be involved in these meetings, that your counsel is valued, even if the others in the room might silently question your place here.

Aegon’s gaze sweeps over the assembled lords, his eyes narrowing as they settle on his grandfather, Otto. “We can no longer wait for whispers and rumors to guide our actions,” he declares, the impatience in his tone unmistakable. “The time has come to strike at Dragonstone directly, with our dragons. Sunfyre, Vhagar, and Starfyre will be more than enough to break Rhaenyra’s hold on the island and crush her forces before they have a chance to regroup.”

The room tenses, all eyes turning to Otto. The older man doesn’t flinch, though the slight tightening of his lips betrays his discomfort. “Your Grace,” he begins carefully, “we must be cautious. We still await word from the Free Cities and Lord Dalton Greyjoy. The alliance we are proposing is crucial. Without their fleets, we cannot break the blockade of the Gullet, and we risk being isolated if we act too rashly.”

Aegon’s expression darkens, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “We cannot afford to wait any longer, Otto. Every day we delay gives Rhaenyra and Daemon more time to gather their forces, to prepare for an attack of their own. The longer we sit idle, the weaker we appear. They will see it as a sign of our hesitation, of our weakness.”

Prince Aemond leans forward, his voice cold and sharp as steel. “The time for caution has passed. We need to strike now, decisively. Dragonstone is vulnerable, and with Vhagar and Sunfyre, we can take it within days. Let Rhaenyra know that her stronghold is not as secure as she thinks.”

Otto’s expression hardens, his voice taking on an edge as he replies, “And what of the Gullet? What of the supplies and reinforcements that will be needed once we engage Rhaenyra’s forces in earnest? Without the ships, without the support of our potential allies, we may find ourselves trapped in our own capital, besieged on all sides.”

Aegon slams his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap. “Enough! We cannot continue to play this game of waiting. Rhaenyra has already shown her hand—she murdered my sons, our heirs! And you ask me to sit here and wait for a letter that may never come?”

The room falls silent, the weight of Aegon’s grief and rage pressing down on everyone present. You can feel his fury radiating off him in waves, a storm that is barely contained.

Otto meets Aegon’s gaze, his eyes hard. “Your Grace, my only concern is for the stability of the realm. Rhaenyra is a threat, yes, but if we lose the support of our allies, if we spread ourselves too thin—”

“No more excuses, Otto,” Aegon cuts him off, his voice icy. “You speak of stability, yet all your cautious plans have brought us nothing but delay and indecision. I need a Hand who will act, not one who will hesitate at every turn.”

Otto’s eyes widen slightly, realizing what’s coming, but before he can speak, Aegon rises from his seat, his decision made. “You are relieved of your duties as Hand of the King. Ser Criston Cole will take your place.”

The shock ripples through the room, though no one dares to speak. Otto stands slowly, the lines of his face deepening with the weight of his dismissal. “As you command, Your Grace,” he says, his voice strained but steady. He turns to leave the chamber, his exit a silent acknowledgment of the power shift that has just occurred.

As the door closes behind him, Aegon turns back to the council, his gaze hard. “We march on Duskendale. Sunfyre, Vhagar, and Ser Criston will lead the assault. We will cut off Dragonstone from the mainland, and then we will take Rook’s Rest. I will not allow Rhaenyra another victory.”

Aemond nods in agreement, his expression grim. “You must remain in the capital for now, brother. Let us secure Duskendale first, and then you can join me at Rook’s Rest. We need to draw her out, force her hand. Rhaenyra will retaliate, and when she does, we will be ready.”

You listen to their words, the cold logic of their strategy, but all you can think of is the danger they are about to face. The thought of Aegon flying into battle, of him facing Rhaenyra’s dragons alone, sends a chill through your blood.

“I’m coming with you,” you say suddenly, your voice breaking through the tension in the room. “Starfyre and I will be at your side.”

Aegon turns to you, his expression softening for a moment, but there’s a firmness in his eyes that you recognize all too well. “No, Y/N,” he says quietly but firmly. “You must stay here, in the capital. Daena and Baelon need you. I need you to watch over them, to protect them.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but the resolve within you burns stronger. “And who will protect you, Aegon? Who will keep you safe when the battle begins?”

“Sunfyre,” he answers, stepping closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I cannot risk losing you, Y/N. You are my heart, my strength. Stay here, where it’s safe.”

You want to argue, to fight him on this, but the look in his eyes, the plea behind his command, makes you pause. He’s not just ordering you—he’s begging you, in his own way, to stay, to keep the last remnants of your family safe.

But even as you nod, your mind is already made up. You will not let him face this alone. You will follow him, no matter the cost, and protect him with everything you have left. The silence between you is thick with unspoken words, the council around you forgotten as you lock eyes with Aegon.

“I understand,” you say finally, your voice soft, but there’s a fire in your heart that refuses to be extinguished. “I’ll stay.”

But the promise you make to yourself is unbreakable. You will not remain in the capital while your husband flies into danger. When the time comes, Starfyre will fly with Sunfyre, and you will be at Aegon’s side, no matter what.

The meeting concludes with final orders and plans, but you barely hear them. Your mind is already racing, thinking of the preparations you’ll need to make in secret, the steps you’ll take to ensure that when Aegon leaves, you will not be far behind.

As the council disperses, Aegon takes your hand, guiding you out of the chamber. He thinks you’ve agreed, that you’ll stay safe in the capital with your children. But he doesn’t know the resolve that has taken root in your heart.

You will protect him, even if it means defying his command. Even if it means risking everything.

As you walk together back to your chambers, the weight of your decision settles over you, but there’s no turning back. You’ve already lost too much. You will not lose Aegon too.

[dubacheryking]

ok i hear u but innocent and haunted by T swift are ABSOLUTELY tragic villain songs. the slow piano. the violin. the desperate yearning to be who you were before you lost yourself entirely. the horrors.

ok, currently listening to innocent and while i can understand this one, it is not the vibe that i, personally, am looking for i guess is the problem. like i want a soundtrack from a film where the villain burns both themself and the hero down in a final blaze of glory with tears running down their face while they grin like a fucking insane person (because they are), which is more fucked up dark classical pieces to me.

also looking over these playlists on desktop (where i can actually SEE all the songs ffs), i really should have said 'why the FUCK is hayloft by mother mother on all of these playlists' bc that is NOT THE VIBE blagh.

[4getfulimaginator2022]

I posted 78 times in 2022

That's 78 more posts than 2021!

37 posts created (47%)

41 posts reblogged (53%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@4getfulimaginator2022

@ao3commentoftheday

@winterbythesea

@piracytheorist

@waynes-multiverse

I tagged 76 of my posts in 2022

Only 3% of my posts had no tags

#captain swan - 43 posts

#cs ff - 41 posts

#captain swan fanfic - 37 posts

#cs fanfic - 37 posts

#cs ff au - 35 posts

#cs fic - 34 posts

#cs fanart - 26 posts

#4getfulimaginator - 25 posts

#please reblog - 16 posts

#cs fic rec - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 82 characters

#working on an original novel and he's the faceclaim for one of the main characters

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Poster by @4getfulimaginator2022

CS fic prompt, based on the 2004 film "Dear Frankie": Emma Swan has protected her son Henry his entire life from his real father. When she can no longer hide the truth from him, she hires a mysterious stranger to keep up the charade.

17 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

#4

Heart Bound: CHAPTER XXV

Heart Bound on AO3

CHAPTER XXV — Fighting Back

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

Her expectations have come to pass. However, now that the anticipation is over, every fiber of her being blazes like a stoked furnace.

She was correct. He wants her gone. And he will force his way to get what he wants.

Among the other council members, Marco seems the most shocked. “You wish to discharge Miss Swan? On what grounds?”

 Spencer crosses his arms over his chest. “She is inadequate.”

“Inadequate? How?” Pastor Hopper adjusts his spectacles. “I have heard much praise from the children’s parents. After all, she passed the probation period, and it has only been several months since she began her post. Rome was not built in a day. We should give her some time.”

“Time? And money, I presume?  My money.” Spencer’s voice hardens. “I know that the townspeople contributed what they could to the funds reserved for her salary. Please let me remind you that more than half of those funds were my donation. I refuse to waste more of them on a person who does not know what she is doing!”

“You do not say how she has failed,” Marco argues. It warms her heart to see him rise to her defense, but it also worries her. A powerful, resourceful man is a dangerous enemy. “I see happy faces come from her schoolhouse. She is patient and understanding.”

“You are a witness, are you?” he fires back. “Do tell, sir - have you ever set foot in that place while class was in session? No? Well, I have, and I do not second your account. This, then, is a secondhand tale from whom? Your son?”

August jumps to his feet. “You have no right to criticize Emma. She has been a saint, working every day without complaint.”

Spencer laughs. “Is that your definition of good work? Discipline? It means nothing if the quality of the work is poor and lacking. But I am not surprised. Perhaps that is why you and your wood carvings are still in Storybrooke and not the city.”

August marches up to the platform until he is right in front of the man, face to face. His hands are clenched into fists and his jaw is tight. “Perhaps. Perhaps that is also why you are rarely here. If people were to see more of you, you might not be mayor for much longer.”

“Is that a threat, carpenter?”

“A promise. I am not an aggressive man.”

“Neither am I. And I always deliver on my promises.”

The air is taut as a bowstring, ready to snap back. She can stand it no longer. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” She passes by both of them and reaches the town council. “Being at the center of this debate, I feel I should address these accusations against me.”

Spencer opens his mouth, but Pastor Hopper holds him at bay with an upheld hand. “Miss Swan, I wholeheartedly agree. Please. The floor is yours.”

Closing her eyes, she takes several deep breaths to ready her resolve. Then she turns around and faces the town, hands clasped in front of her. 

She must be meek and reserved. She must stay calm.

She has to get through this.

“Good evening, everyone. You know me as Miss Swan, the schoolteacher here. For several months, many of you have entrusted your children to my care. Every day, they have come to the schoolhouse to study and learn.

“And while there are those,” she glances at Spencer, “who claim I have done nothing to help your children, I know they have come so far since they started their education. Before, they could not read or write. They had never seen numbers or letters before.” 

She smiles at a sudden image in her mind. After the Spencer debacle was over and class was dismissed for the day, a little girl named Bertie came up to her desk. All the other children had left. Saying nothing, the child handed her a drawing of the school and her classmates. It was simple and plain, etched in black charcoal, because the town could not afford colored chalk or ink. Under the drawing were the words “You are a great teacher, Miss Swan.” 

She folded the paper into quarters and slipped it into her pocket. Now, if she ever feels unsure of her goal, she takes the drawing out and looks at it.

Perhaps hope is only born in the midst of the deepest troubles. That is why Pandora’s box had hope. Hope is needed the most in times of hardship.

Her voice gains conviction, and she takes a long look at the many faces in the room. They are questioning, puzzled. Some of the parents must be wondering why she feels the need to defend herself. Others seem warm and open.

See the full post

17 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

#3

Saving Prince Killian by Commandante Theresa. CS AU (no magic) with Prince!Killian and Princess!Emma. When Princess Emma's romantic dream of marrying Prince Killian finally comes true, she discovers they are married in name only. He has fallen into a life of vice & debauchery, infatuated with his mistress, the infamous, manipulative courtesan Milah. Only True Love can save him from darkness & Milah's evil influence to become the noble Prince he was meant to be.

Comments: I literally sought this one out to re-read it just last week! It's like a historical romance - funny, smart and smoking hot. I 100% recommend it! So...I was rustling through my Amazon Drive uploads, since Amazon Drive is being retired at the end of 2022, and look what I found! I made a heap of CS fic banners back in the day, and I decided I'm going to do a series of fic recs and repost all these. Some of these lovely writers are still on Tumblr, while others never were. I'll tag everyone I can. Please reblog!!! Please share them. They are wonderful stories.

Banners are by @4getfulimaginator2022

23 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#2

Soldier Boy fics rec

First of all, I want to note that I have not watched The Boys in its entirety, only bits and pieces here and there. When season 3 rolled around, I jumped on the Soldier Boy bandwagon, too. I even got a bit obsessed. 🤣 Of course, that means fic recs!

🌺 Bad Reputation by @waynes-multiverse

Completed. This fic is hot, sweet, and super sassy (see what I did there?) - such a blast to read and relish. I love the quick banter and fierce love scenes. Y/N becomes an OC in her own right, determined, principled, and forgiving. Soldier Boy is a human supe caught between his old ways and his growing love for Y/N. Can I just say that some parts of the story are like beautiful poetry? Aw, it squeezed my heart! Suspense, romance, drama - this fic has it all. You'll enjoy it as much as I have. 😍

🌺 Safe Haven by @that-sarcastic-writer

In progress. The sexual tension in this fic is so thick you can cut it with a knife! The buildup between Y/N and Soldier Boy is great, and I'm really looking forward to how the author decides to move the story forward. So delicious! 😏

🌺 Thunder in Our Hearts by @luci-in-trenchcoats

Completed. If you ever hoped Soldier Boy could be redeemed - realistically - this story takes us to that happy place. His journey is tough and gritty, and I love how rooted Y/N is as a character. She is a fleshed-out OC with motivation, purpose, and character growth. Each plot thread is so well thought out! The action and suspense had me on the edge all the time, and I enjoyed every bit of it. Wonderful, wonderful fic! 💪

🌺 Happy Little Family by @fandom-chic

Completed. Gosh, every chapter moves so fast that you'll be at the end before you know it, wishing for more! I loved the take here, that Soldier Boy had a great love in the past. The ending is bittersweet, and I will post trigger warnings for one particular chapter that broke me. 😔 Loved this! ❤️

Now do what Soldier Boy would do

AND READ THESE!!!

Please show these writers some love 💕by commenting on and reblogging their fics!

24 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Poster by @4getfulimaginator2022

CS fic prompt based on the 2000 film "Pay It Forward": Emma Swan is a single mother struggling to get by with her young son, Henry. Henry is inspired by his history teacher, Killian Jones, to change the world for the better. His brilliant idea becomes a ripple effect, sweeping through their small town of Storybrooke and eventually, the entire country.

26 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lunatic-harness]

every time i see a screenshot of the older fire emblems i think "this looks cool i should check it out" despite the fact i never finished blazing blade (left the rom on my old phone) and awakening never clicked for me and ff tactics was way too brainy for me

[memidgenotsofteroreasier]

SMH

A free exercise class at 10:30 gets me out of the house (dubious, whether I should spend the gas). Yesterday I drove the 9 miles to a meeting where they had two outdoor gas heaters blasting as the crew was spread over a wide swath of amphitheater with shade cloth overhead. The sun was warming things and I saw them as unnecessary and rose to turn the closest one off. On the way out, a person chided me for it, saying they were cold. I looked at the attire. Thin, tight-fitting leggings and shoes without socks. Don’t people know how to layer up?

That evening a meeting in the hall that has a gas fireplace had an open door and the fireplace blazing. I am a fan of these things when needed but shut the door and turn off the fireplace FFS. I spoke up and sounded like the mad woman.

[burned-lariat]

You got me thinking today, from one of your answers...... I'm back again.

ChayLynn's demise, why is this squarely Brook Lynn's fault? I see it as a two way street. Chase's excuse for doing the singing was mainly to pay the bills. He didn't like it but he did it for her sake (blind love I guess?), his justification for being mad at her for not writing the letter to help get his badge back seemed over the top. He witnesses Linc harassing Blaze and does nothing (delicate genius 🙄). He submits to Brook Lynn's demands and keeps quiet and keeps on singing.. She devises a plan only to get herself played in the end. Chase should take take some culpability here too, he saw an attitude shift in Brook Lynn, they werent on the same page anymore and nada, just went on trusting the process, right? Taking away his agency and playing God, sir not today. No use in putting those two back together if that doesn't happen.. The real stakes of this story gets burried under the fantasy fame singing fluff GH shoved at us for six months! Only notables were a ChayLynn "romance" and a "break up". Quotations because was it even real? Their pretend business deal overshadowed their real relationship. The very thing they both were concerned about, now look. So going after Linc and getting Brook Lynn's songs back should now serve as the "real story" to invest in. I'm like, there better be a huge payoff for subjecting Brook Lynn to self sabotage and Chase singing like a David Hasselhoff reject lol. Endgame is eminent, but ugh... I don't expect them to get the Sprina treatment . Lol Do you?

All this progress that was made for Brook Lynn only to undue it quickly after. Like let her bask in her newfound glow up geez. We can't count on Willow, she's busy doing something boring lol. Despite Brook Lynn's downfall, i still believe she can come out of this upcoming arc victorious. Linc should be the only villain ready to sport an orange jumpsuit soon. Focus more on her continuing to overcome taking back her pride and dignity, her inability to sing (her true passion) and channel it into a new passion something she can be proud of.. acknowledge that Chase was her stand-in, he was living her broken dreams and her emotional stuggles that came with it. Songwriting is still viable too cause her boo thang said so.. Isn't Blaze a direct reflection of herself when she endured Linc's harassment? Get her unstuck from herself and make her an advocate for the silent victim(s) of sexual harassment, this tweenage behavior is so unbecoming. Is this how they plan to "continue their love story"? The writing is so lackluster but okay. Well add she needs to be her own badass hero first, courageous BLQ needs to re-emerge. No more of Chase's butt hurt brooding. We want to take him seriously when he's reinstated this time for good; maybe solve one or two cases in five years time. lol But i digress.

I didn't want Maxie having the talk with Brook Lynn. If not her mother, Olivia or Ned would have been better suited. Again Chase had already chosen her (his actions/his words), but it's his struggle with forgiveness and broken trust that he needs to overcome. Lets start with seeing Brook Lynn shedding her selfish/childish habits. She's in love, but she won't have reason to share that with him now.. let's her actions speak for itself. The lack of supporting characters and platonic friendships for Brook Lynn is tragic. Comparatively her and Spencer are loosely paralleled but who gets the better writing thus far should say something about the writing team wrt attention to details.

sidenote: I want OG!ChayLynn back w/ the slow sizzling romance. Linc coming back? 👎 But maybe it's a coming full-circle kinda thing idk?

Frank Valentini, I'm warning you. Don't drag this on another year ffs! *meditating* woo saaah!

The writers seem to have a "fun" habit of making pairs where one is thrown under the bus and stripped of agency while the other is domineering and/or controlling. ChaLynn is the newest victim, and unlike other pairs, they did NOT start that way. Since they got together, and since this Linc story has gone on, Chase is a doormat, while Brook takes a disproportionate amount of control over them and their romance. It reminds me of prime CaOss. I also hope there is a big and substantial payoff in this nonsense because otherwise, they went out of their way to sabotage what was a pretty good pair. And honestly, no, I don't see them getting the Sprina treatment.

I have no doubt Brook will be the winner in this story, because how on Earth would a random dayplayer get this much victory and presence??? No shot. And absolutely - her purpose should've being a songwriter and focusing on that while somehow getting her songs back. And plus, when she realized there was a more worthwhile fight in suing Linc for widespread sexual harassment, that would've been a FAR better direction to go. But nope! Brook agreed to an NDA for her songs back - awful writing. ChaLynn should be the Songwriter & the PI.

Yeah Maxie was kinda the last person giving love advice and diagnosis, considering who she supports as love interests and has even been with (minus Spinelli & Nathan). Chase needs to learn to trust again and Brook needs to tap into her faux-mother behavior. And YES she needs friends. Maxie is fine, Michael is...blegh, have her mingle with more people her age like the Davis girls!

I, too, want ChaLynn back, not whatever the writers made of them. And know Frank, Chris, and Dan, we'll be waiting another two years 😒