#i was not born for heavy informations and learnings

[birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo]

i love my sister dearly but she is 21 and studying psychology AND studying philosophy AND she's a morning person and it's

it's all a bit much for me ;A;

pictured above: her, telling me about about psychopathology and society's treatment of mentally ill offenders me, having drawn alllll night and not slept yet ;A; my tiny soul, fleeing its mortal confinement for the freedom of another realm the clock, relentlessly ticking ever forward in its journey and heedless of my suffering at seven in the fecking morning

[nathaslosthershit]

Lie Detector (Teen Dad!OP81 AU)

(Part of the Teen Dad!Oscar AU) Summary: Oscar does a lie detector test and Lando learns some tough pills to swallow.

“So, our first media video for McLaren since the big news came out, right Oscar?” Lando said.

“Yep.” Oscar weakly responded. When McLaren asked him to do the lie detector test again, hoping to poke fun at the recent events, he was weary. He knew his team wouldn’t do anything to hurt him or his family, and it would probably be great from a PR perspective, but he was already tired of constantly answering questions. 

“Or should I call you Daddy Osc now?”

“Please never call me that.”

“So, we are doing a lie detector to try and expose all secrets the two of us may be hiding, like an entire family for example.” Lando, of course, knew about Oscar’s kids before he was exposed, but he still loved the opportunity to poke fun at him for it, even if he totally understood why Oscar did what he did.

“This time, we are using a heavy duty lie detector, with actual wires and someone to tell whether we are for sure telling the truth, instead of a toy that shocks us at random.” Oscar continued, ignoring Lando’s comment.

The words ‘Oscar tells the truth’ flashed on the screen till a wired up Oscar appeared behind the desk.

“Okay Oscar, starting off easy. Is your name Oscar Jack Piastri?” Lando was giddy as he asked, really excited to get information out of his teammate.

“Yes.” was all he responded. Truth.

“Are you originally from Australia?”

“Yep.” Truth. This was easier than he had thought, but looking in Lando’s eyes, he could see the glint of mischievousness in them.

“Are you a daddy?” 

“I am a father, yes. I don’t like the look in your eyes when you call me that.” Truth.

“Do you have any other kids you are hiding?”

“No more than the two.” Truth.

“Am I their favorite uncle?” Lando knew he had it in the bag. The Piastri twins loved him and how much he spoiled them. Their parents? Not so much. Oscar’s fiancee had time and time again argued with the amount of toys Lando would get them at random.

He did begin to sweat a little as Oscar took a little longer to answer the question. He didn’t know how to break the news to him. 

“...Yes.” Lie.

“What! Oscar? You said I was their favorite!” 

“Lando, Logan has been in their life since they were born. He established himself as the cool uncle. When I let him babysit, I always return home to them eating way too much ice cream. To be fair, I think he has trained them like Pavlov’s dogs to associate him with treats so now they get way too excited and jumpy when they see him.” Oscar explained.

“This is stupid anyway I don’t care.” Lando mumbled, caring very much that he wasn’t the favorite. “Moving on, I don’t have any more questions so I guess it is my turn.”

After the video had been filmed, Oscar and Lando walked back over to the meeting room that the Piastri twins and their mother had been given to hang out in while they filmed. On the walk over, Lando interrogated his teammate even more.

“I cannot believe that I am not the cool uncle! I have never not been the cool uncle. Mila thinks I am cool, how do your kids not?”

“Lando, they are three, it is nothing personal. They love the toys you get them and they are always asking for you when they come to the factory. Logan just has seniority over you and has been the cool uncle forever, it is hard to dethrone him after a year.” Oscar said this hoping that it would stop Lando from spoiling them tenfold. 

If anything it just made him even more motivated to overthrow Logan.

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri and 472,264 others

landonorris logansargeant I will become the cool uncle

oscarpiastri lando please. No more toys we don't have the room

logansargeant In your dreams old man.

[yuurei20]

I heard from someone that Azul is actually very strong although he's not very athletic because he's an octo merman he's mostly muscle they said that Floyd has talked about it in bean fest I wanted to know if Azul being insanely strong was just a headcannon or cannon cause its kinda funny to me azul could carry professor vargas that one event on his own when prof vargas is pure muscle

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🐙

Yes yes! The first information we receive about Azul being stronger than he looks is from Floyd during Beanfest, who explains,

"Who said anything about Azul bein' weak without his magic? He's real strong. He's slow on land and in water, and he's got lousy athletic reflexes, but that doesn't mean he's weak."

"Azul's bigger than me in the water, and he's got eight huge, heavy limbs. His submission holds are bad news, and he's got crazy grip strength. If he so much as snags you, he can snare you with your arms pinned.

Octopi are, like, all muscle. Seems to me like that wouldn't go poof just 'cause he took a potion to turn himself human.

I'm just spitballin' here, obviously. But all I'm saying is that writing Azul off is a bad idea."

(All of the above dialogue is 100% accurate to the original game! Floyd's "I'm just spitballin' here" line might make it seems like he is just guessing and doesn't actually know, but his original line is closer to, "I don't know all the details," and sounds more like he knows this information is fact, he just can't give a physiology lesson on how it all works.)

But Floyd's information is a little vague: he says Azul has "crazy grip strength" and his "submission holds are bad news," but that is the same line where he talks about Azul in his merform--so is he talking about mer-Azul or human-Azul? Or is he not making a distinction because there isn't one?

Can Azul snare people and pin them down on land, or was Floyd half-relating an anecdote from when they lived underwater?

But then came Book 6 and a line from Azul himself saying that his "arms are quite powerful," unlike Riddle's.

This seems to confirm that Azul is physically stronger than most people, but then comes the thunder spear:

Riddle asks for help lifting it and Azul struggles under its weight, despite how this would have been the ideal opportunity to illustrate how physically capable Azul really is.

But maybe the thunder spears are a tall order for anyone to lift? They're weapons from the age of the gods--maybe they just weren't designed for humans (or creatures in human form) to lift on their own?

Except:

There is Leona, who both lifts and wields the thunder spear entirely on his own, twice (he gets help from Jamil the third time).

But the rules of the thunder spears are unclear: after Team-OctaHearts' spear goes into energy-saving mode Riddle says, "I should be able to handle it now on my own," insinuating that when they are not in attack-mode they are easier to wield.

Azul carries it at first but, due to his infamously poor stamina, he does eventually give it up to Riddle.

When Azul comments on how easy RIddle makes carrying the spear look Riddle explains, "I spend most of my time learning magic. I have ever since I was born," insinuating that he is using a form of magic (perhaps levitation) to carry it and maybe does not have it physically in his arms at all.

(Vil explains that the spears are difficult to control in attack-mode due to the amount of energy they give off.)

And that asks questions about levitation that I have always wondered about!

During Glorious Masquerade Epel is only capable of carrying one crate of apples at a time.

When Malleus levitates an entire apple truck Epel comments, "I'm pretty sure only Malleus could pull off a feat like that…"

Are levitation and physical strength connected? Malleus says that he is physically stronger than humans even without his magic, so he does not serve as a good example.

Is Epel only capable of levitating one crate of apples because that is the limit of what he would be able to accomplish physically? Or do his magical limitations mirror his physical limitations by coincidence?

We know that Leona is extremely powerful (re: Leona's Power). Is Leona both physically stronger than an octopus mermaid and magically stronger than Azul, or is Azul physically stronger than Leona, but his magic wasn't enough for the spear?

And then there is the fact that Azul is, magically, extremely strong:

Jade comments that Azul's unique magic is too strong for even him to control (which is why he designed the golden contracts--to artificially rein himself in). Does that apply to all of Azul's magic, or is it just his UM?

Someone with the muscle of an octopus and a magic too strong to be wielded by its own user seems like they should be able to control a thunder spear on their own--but maybe Leona is just that strong? 🦁

To the original question:

Yes! It is canon that Floyd has said that Azul is insanely strong, and Azul himself has repeated it, but--

edit:

Ahhh thank you very much to the anonymous asker who mentioned Azul's Tapis Rouge vignette! 🥳 In-game example of Azul flexing his physical strength!!📝

And thank you to @basuralindo for the reference to Azul prying Stitch off of the prefect! 🐙 (Azul: "You might've thwarted my efforts entirely if we hadn't been underwater.")

And thank you again to @basuralindo and @mellosdrawings for the Vargas Camp references!! 📝

In a vignette we have Azul volunteering to carry a load of wood for Kalim. He pretends to be struggling under the weight in order to leave a lasting impression of his efforts, but as we cannot tell how much wood there is that he is hauling it can be difficult to tell how heavy it truly is--but then there is Vargas👀

At Trey's request, Jade and Azul are assigned the task of evacuating a bound Grim and Vargas from the mine. Jade takes Grim and runs away, leaving Azul behind alone with the prefect to handle Vargas--did he know that Azul would not struggle with carrying him?💪

Azul does ask for the prefect's help, but only because he is worried about bumping Vargas' head against the rocks--he does not say anything about struggling to carry him!

And this sounds very similar to a comment from Malleus on carrying Idia and Azul through the narrow stairwells of the bell tower during Glorious Masquerade! 🐉🐙

[melodyanqel]

Just Keeping Swimming | cs

summary: a fun summer day where a father taught his daughter how to swim.

pairing: idol!husband!father!san x non-idol!wife!mother!reader

genre/tags: fluff, idol au, established relationship, married couple, cuteness, father-daughter bonding

wc: 600+ words

a/n: seriously a lot of cuteness!!

A newly radiant sun emerges from springtime, wrapping everyone in warm and brilliant rays. It’s a hot summer day and the best thing to do is bathe in a pool to wash away the heavy heat. 

“Appa! How do you swim?!”

The sweet voice came from an adorable child in her cute Hello Kitty swimsuit with a tutu and her silky dark hair was up in a bun. She swings her legs back and forth on her parents’ bed. Her idol father, ATEEZ San, hears his little angel from the bathroom. He comes out only in his swim trunks and muscle swim t-shirt and bends down to have Sooah in his arms. She hops into her father’s embrace. “I’m not an expert but I’ll do my best to teach you,” San informed Sooah. 

She then squishes his cheeks with her tiny hands. “Appa is the best at teaching!” She tries to motivate him with so much cuteness. San smiles widely and gives her millions of kisses on her face. “You’re the best, my angel!” He couldn’t stop doting on his daughter since the day she was born. Sooah is the apple of his eye, after all. Her precious laughter rings like a beautiful melody. 

San gives her one last kiss on the cheek and pulls away to stand up and grab his phone off the bed. He texts the love of his life about heading off to the pool. You were busy at work and sad that you couldn’t have fun with your little family. But as promised, San will send you fun pictures and videos. 

Cheers, cheers

Under the hot sun right now

Go away, go away

Throw away all hesitation, throw away all hesitation

The father and daughter walked hand-in-hand to their apartment complex pool while singing "Wave." Luckily, it was just them at the pool, which was peaceful and quiet. 

“Alright, baby. Ready to go in?” San gently applied sunscreen on Sooah’s face because the love of his life would get furious if she saw her daughter red like a cherry. Sooah nods her head enthusiastically. “Yes, appa! Samchons say if they can do it, then I can too!” She mentioned her seven uncles or ATEEZ who are her best friends. 

With the earnest response, “Yes, you can! Now don’t get overly excited because it’s okay to make mistakes. Right, baby?” San reminded his angel to accept imperfections so she could learn from them. Sooah nodded, understanding her father’s statement. 

After taking some pictures to send to you and his members, San dives into the pool first. It feels rejuvenating because every day it’s been hot like fire. “Come over here. I got you, darling.” He let out his arms. Sooah strides and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. She has on a kid-size life jacket for safety. 

San swam with Sooah in his arms to the center of the pool. “I’ll be letting you go, now. Are you fine with that?” He wants to make sure Sooah is comfortable about swimming on her own. “Yes, appa!” She responded. San then carefully lets go of his child and watches her reaction. 

Sooah giggles happily. “Appa, this is fun!” She naturally moves her legs back and forth underwater. It brought a huge smile to San’s face. “You’re doing it, baby! Good job!” He cheered. “Okay, now follow my lead.” San begins to move his arms and legs slowly because he doesn’t want Sooah to get left out. She imitates her father and is swimming beside him. 

San stops to catch a breath and Sooah does the same. He brings her into his arms to shower millions of kisses once again. Sooah laughs in delight at her father’s affection. “You’re amazing, my love! Tell the samchons and mama about your new talent when we get back!” He nudges his nose against her cheek. 

More like San bragging about his beautiful angel to the world. 

[jinkslee]

FORGOTTEN PROMISE

SUMMARY: you made a promise to Blade before you disappeared from his life forever. It's been a long time and you've long forgotten the past along with the promise you made — but not Blade. (Blade x f!reader)

WC: 1.6k

WARNINGS: asphyxia, rough Blade, blood, disemboweled bodies, a little bit angst, wip

AUTHOR'S NOTE: my first drabble (idk) that I crashed more than once, omg. enjoy reading, mates.

you carefully stepped over the lifeless body of an unknown cloud knight lying in the way. the salty metallic smell of blood hung in the air, and several viscous purple puddles covered the floor underfoot. a terrible picture opened before your eyes: heads and cut throats brutally smashed against cargo containers, broken limbs and gradually appearing on the bodies of cadaverous miasma with a characteristic putrid, sweet smell. despite the fact that there were countless corpses disfigured by the blade around, you did not feel the same nausea that appeared from the heavy stench of death. being a long-lived woman who has lived for decades, you have seen many soldiers loyal to the xianzhou alliance who have passed away: you saw them before the fatal battle with confident smiles on their faces and heard how the soldiers were escorted to the accompaniment of bitter female sobs and enthusiastic whistles from the excited crowd before they faced, after the defeat of mara, the curse of a long life continuing their existence in immortal, mindless bodies. the truth that I didn't want to accept.

moving with quiet steps along a suspiciously neatly laid out row of corpses, you occasionally looked back, as if mesmerized, staring at the bloody footprints left by shoes. but what you were worried about right now was not cleaning the damaged shoes, but something else — it was too quiet. despite your loneliness, it was as if you were naked, defenseless and vulnerable to something unknown. In front of something invisible and shapeless, which will overtake and sink sharp claws into the back at any moment. a golden ginkgo leaf landed on the toe of the shoe, slowly spinning in a gust of wind: withered, with barely noticeable cuts. here, one did not need to have psychic abilities and have the matrix of prescience ultima to understand whose handiwork it was. who left behind a mountain of mercilessly slaughtered bodies, as if hinting at his presence very close.

"no job was worth it..." you muttered out loud in fright, gradually retreating back on legs stiff with fear to the cherished exit. a few steps and finally a safe zone will appear. in the distance, the armor of the cloud knights who had arrived for the patrol could be heard ringing, which were clearly concerned about the sudden loss of a dozen of their comrades.

it was necessary to get out of lofu xianzhou as soon as possible, before he noticed you, learned of your presence on the ship. you'll have to hide your tracks, confuse your pursuer and get lost somewhere in the depths of space for the next few decades until everything settles down and your existence is remembered. it's like you were never born. should you inform the IPC that you are in danger and at gunpoint with one of the most wanted criminals? you reached into your pocket, trying to find your phone there. suddenly you bumped into someone with your back, hitting someone else's chest weakly.

"oh, I'm sorry! I..." you turned around to apologize to the unknown, but then froze in place. the fear that had bound the muscles began to spread deeper into the body, like roots breaking through the soil. your insides felt like they were twisting into a knot, and a viscous lump was coming up to my throat, blocking the oxygen. your heart was pounding somewhere in my temples, and the noise in my ears did not stop. Blade was standing behind him. he was exactly as you remembered him, and clearly had no intention of just saying hello after years of silence.

to run. inside, everything screamed that it was necessary to get away from him as soon as possible, while there was still no opportunity. you practically took off in the opposite direction, but someone else's hands gripped your shoulders tightly, pinning you with force against a nearby cargo container. you screamed softly when you hit the metal wall, closing your eyes reflexively. an unpleasant pain spread through my body, tingling in my suddenly numb muscles. you felt BLADE put his finger to your lips, telling you to be silent.

"really, I'm going to die like this," you thought in a panic, dreaming of falling into the ground without feeling pain. at any moment, you could lose your life if you just moved once more and gave a reason to the hunter right in front of you. but there was no feeling of the cold metal of the blade on the skin, no suffocating grip, only silence between them and the occasional footsteps of excited knights. it was only when you decided to open your eyes that you came face to face with your death. Blade was still gripping your shoulder tightly with one hand, pinning you back against the wall and glaring at you with displeasure. no, not just dissatisfied: in the scarlet eyes burned all shades of malice and hatred, which seemed to burn through your body.

"Blade..." before you could finish, you shrank back into the cargo container behind him when he abruptly pressed a bandaged palm to your lips. the cloud knights were very close, passing by a couple of containers nearby.

"you haven't changed a bit. even now, being on the verge of death, you can't close your mouth," Blade suddenly whispered with a hint of irony in his voice, grinning. after a couple of minutes, other people's voices gradually subsided, and now you are left alone, in the middle of a pile of decomposing knight corpses.

lowering his hand, he grabbed your chin and slightly lifted your head up, examining the familiar, refined features of a face stretched out from fright. it was as if he was making sure that he had caught the right person. a satisfied grin appeared on his lips, after which everything inside shrank again. after all, you got to know each other from the very beginning, it's just that everyone took this fact in their own way.

"it's been a long time since we've seen each other..." he drawled, putting his hand on your neck. unlike the monotonous voice, his skin was hot, as if burning, leaving an indelible mark near the throbbing artery. "hoping to get away from me by wandering around the universe in a panic? this overly idiotic arrogance suits you."

you were about to object when suddenly strong hands closed tightly around your neck, pressing on the artery. he watched with sadistic pleasure as you floundered in his arms in fright, desperately trying to save your own life: clinging to your palms with sharp nails, scratching bandages and glove fabric; trying to get your foot into the man's stomach so that he would have mercy. coughing and wheezing, you continued to try to push Blade away and take a breath of air, but the man remained steadfast.

"you made me a promise. however, you continue to pretend that nothing is happening," Blade said this time without malice, loosening his grip for a split second. it was not difficult for a hunter to end your life at any moment by making one simple move. but there was clearly an unknown reason why he was just harassing you to nip your will in the bud.

"i... don't understand..." you tried to say when the desired drop of oxygen entered your lungs. he was mocking. he was definitely enjoying what was happening, reducing the intake of air each time, listening to the quiet wheezing. that's exactly what you were thinking when your weakened legs suddenly lifted a couple of centimeters off the ground.

"really?" sarcasm was clearly audible in the chilling voice. Blade seemed to doubt the truth of the words. "have your memories become clouded in so many years? what a pity. i can help you remember."

the pressure on his neck increased, and the picture in front of his eyes began to float, drowning in mixed shades. Blade's silhouette became so blurred that it was barely possible to recognize his facial features. your legs were sluggishly beating against the metal wall, as if it was the last hope to reach his tormentor and escape from the suffocating embrace.

suddenly, everything stopped. you fell to your knees, convulsively inhaling as much air as possible into your lungs while tears involuntarily flowed down your cheeks. not out of happiness or resentment, they just appeared by themselves. Blade spared you.

"you know, i've changed my mind," he said, squatting down next to you. the man was not worried that you would decide to take off and try to escape from him again. In such a state, you would hardly be able to stand on your own, let alone run. "after all, centenarians have so much time to enjoy all the delights of life.… so during this period of time, you will definitely remember everything."

you stared at him blankly, trying to focus and ignore the annoying dizziness, but all attempts were in vain. the cyanotic bruises from the long fingers on his neck hurt, and it was completely unpleasant to touch them. Blade picked up your supple body and threw it over his shoulder, heading in the opposite direction from the escape exit.

"where... are we..." you asked almost in a whisper. your head felt heavy, it seemed like an unaffordable weight along with the rest of your body, your eyes were sticking together, and my mouth felt like a desert. you were about to lose consciousness after a few minutes of suffocation.

"what do you think?" obviously, it was a rhetorical question. you slowly closed your eyes, finally resigned to your fate, no longer able to keep your mind in mind. the last thing you could hear was Blade's satisfied grunt and a hand on your waist.

"to a place where you will remember and fulfill your promise to me. whether you want it or not."

[loversatthegreatdivide]

Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 2

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 3.2k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: I do not necessarily intent to update this everyday, but then again I won't complain about it when I'm motivated enough to make it happen. Also, just as a side note: My knowledge of the British aristocracy and the laws of inheritance in England at this particular time are shaky at best. Some things I will research because I feel like I can't leave it alone, but in this case I honestly do not care how historically accurate every single detail is. Again, Bridgerton is an AU, so I'll do what I want.

Benedict slumped down on the settee, arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He was all but lying down with how far he had sunk, and as he half-lay in his seat, his mind raced.

He was frustrated.

It had been days since the Danbury ball, and yet he was no closer to discovering the identity of the enchanting young woman he had met there. In these past few days, she had occupied more space in his mind than he was comfortable admitting. He needed to see her again--or at the very least learn her name.

He had been through every family he could possibly think of, but all had been dead ends. Not that he was familiar with every household in the ton, but certainly his mother had briefed him on many of the households with eligible debutantes. He thought surely one must be the home of his mystery woman.

Anthony strolled into the drawing room, an eyebrow lifting as he looked over at his brother.

"What's got you brooding so?" he asked, taking a seat next to Colin at the small, round table that had been laid out with confections. He took a jelly tart for himself as he eyed Benedict from his seat.

"I do not brood brother--you are the one that broods," Benedict corrected, wiggling himself further down the settee, "I am pouting at best."

"Then what has you pouting so, Benedict?" Colin chimed in, setting the book he had been reading aside.

Benedict thought for a moment about telling them. They were his brothers after all, and there was the possibility one of them may even have some insight into the young lady's identity.

He thought better of it almost as soon as the thought entered his mind.

There was the potential to gain valuable information yes, but the ribbing he would receive in return would be never-ending. And there was the risk of the information reaching his mother's ear. He shuttered to think what she would do if she believed he was actively seeking a wife--he saw how she was with Anthony last season.

He certainly didn't want anyone in his family to presume something so ludicrous as his desire to marry--he wasn't looking for a wife, he was only curious.

Yes, curiosity. That was all.

He decided it wasn't worth the trouble; not yet, at least. While he had no luck finding her again, at the very least he knew she was aware of him. There was a chance she may seek him out, however slim it may be. And it seemed very likely she would attend the next ball. A debutante newly introduced in society could hardly be kept from every dance and social engagement held throughout the season. Even if she herself had seemed less than taken with the last event, there was surely a pestering mama in the picture that was pushing her forward regardless.

So he would wait to speak of it with his family until he had no other options.

"I was just thinking longingly of the peace and quiet in the house while the two of you were away," he joked, his hands moving dramatically to press together, as if in prayer.

"Well now I know you're lying," Anthony smirked, "Since when did you enjoy peace and quiet?"

"It certainly sounds out of character," Colin agreed, "Perhaps he simply enjoyed having fewer people around to catch him leaving for his nightly excursions."

"Yes Colin, I think you're right," the eldest brother replied. Benedict scowled, finally sitting up straight as to address his brothers at eye-level.

"That is quite the accusation, dear brother. Care to defend it on the piste?" Benedict challenged.

Colin smirked, "Careful brother--I'm stronger than I used to be."

"Well then, perhaps after another trip abroad you may finally pose a challenge for me," Benedict quipped, "Shall you join as well Anthony? You wouldn't want to miss our younger brother's humiliating defeat."

"He has been rather big-headed since his return, it would be nice to watch his ego deflate," Anthony grinned over at Colin, "For his own sake as well as ours."

"Would the two of you like to back up your boasting, or shall we sit and discuss it for another hour?" Colin huffed. Anthony and Benedict exchanged knowing smiles.

"Very well then," Benedict said as he rose from his seat, "Shall we then?"

The three brothers exited the room, pushing each other lightly and laughing as they headed for the back garden.

---

Beatrice slumped forward in her chair, frowning as her unfocused gaze fell to the bookshelves that lined the far wall. Her chin sat balanced on one hand, as the other absentmindedly fiddled with a page in the large book that lay on the table in front of her. She knew she would be reprimanded if her tutor--or worse, her grandmother--saw her slouching, but she was too bored to concern herself with it at the moment. She sighed, glancing down at the page she held between her fingers.

As the second child of the Prince Regent, Beatrice was fourth in line for the throne--soon to be fifth, once Charlotte's child was born. She no longer needed to prepare for a hypothetical future where she would someday need to step up and become queen. Yet still, her father insisted she continue her studies while forcing her to follow his excessively strict rules. Even convincing him to allow her stay at Buckingham House had been a struggle. Luckily, her father was rather a pushover when it came to his mother, and when the queen had insistent Beatrice be allowed to stay for the season he could hardly say no.

She straighten, only to slid down into her chair. It's not as if she disliked the act of learning altogether. There had been many times when she felt she had truly enjoyed her lessons, having looked forward to more than one. But there were others that felt rather pointless; just tedious memorization that she would never have need for even if she were to become queen.

Studying the crest and founder of all the current noble houses, along with the family tree going back at least three generations, was not exactly thrilling.

She had found some enjoyment when she first started, flipping immediately to the section concerning a family she was now quite interested in. It did somehow feel a little like snooping, and she felt a bit guilty looking through Benedict's family history. However, she told herself it was all public knowledge, and after all it was a part of her studies.

She learned quite a lot about the family--their crest, the first Viscount's name and history, and of course the family as it stands now. It was a surprise to learn Benedict had seven siblings; she couldn't even begin to image having such a large family. Then again, her father was one of fifteen children, so perhaps eight was not so unreasonable.

After learning all she could about the Bridgertons, she moved on. She was less enthusiastic about learning anything at all about the other households, and soon she found her thoughts drifting.

It had been a few days since the ball. Beatrice had been the one to ask if she could attend, and at the time truly thought she would enjoy going. She hoped she may make a friend--possibly even two. She had been so isolated as a child, and her sister had always been little company to her. It would have been nice to talk to people her own age.

However, she had not expected she would cause such a frenzy. She hadn't realized how little people saw of the royal family at such events--with the exception of the queen, of course. It made Beatrice too conspicuous. She was a shining light of hope representing the next generation of the monarchy.

Then of course, there were the men. Knowing nothing about her, yet treating her like a prized mare up for auction. She supposed even as the second child, she must seem appealing to them. The crown may be out of reach, but her future husband would still be a prince--and of course, there was the considerable amount of riches she had access to as a member of the royal household.

Perhaps that's why she had been so taken with Benedict Bridgerton.

He had clearly not known who she was. Perhaps he had arrived late, or been out of the room when she had been announced alongside her grandmother. Either way, he seemed truly clueless to the title she carried. It made him seem so genuine compared to the others she had met that night. It had been so refreshing to be treated as her own person, rather than a royal. It may well be his motivations were less than pure, but at the very least he seemed like an honest person. Perhaps more prone to humorous banter, but still so sincere when it was needed.

This left her with a rather vexing problem.

On the one hand, he would certainly learn her identity sooner or later. It made sense to simply tell Benedict now rather than hide it from him, which may go poorly when he did eventually discover the truth. On the other hand, she had enjoyed their conversation immensely, and if he found out she was a princess after only a single meeting, he would likely feel the obligation to treat her just as everyone else did. She would lose her one chance to have a real connection with someone that wasn't singularly focused on her proximity to the throne.

If she wanted to continue hiding her title from him, she would need to find a way to see him. If they built up a friendship first, perhaps once he did learn the truth he would be less inclined to treat her differently. She was nearly guaranteed to see him at the next ball, but then she would once again be announced as a princess. Whatever had caused him to miss her entrance at the first ball, she had doubts that it would happen a second time.

With that being the case, she either had to wait and see him at the next ball, holding out hope he may continue to act as he had before even after learning the truth. Or, she had to see him outside of a ballroom. She couldn't bare the thought of losing an opportunity for real friendship, but of course she would never be allowed to leave Buckingham House on her own. This left her with only one option.

She would have to sneak out.

---

Benedict lounged lazily on the sill of his bedroom window. His head leaned back against the wood of the frame as he gazed out over the lamp lit streets below. In his lap sat his sketchbook, filled with half-finished sketches of a lovely young woman whose face he just couldn't quite capture.

Spending the afternoon with his brothers had been a nice reprieve from his mind, but night had fallen and now he was alone. There was nothing to stop his thoughts from wandering every corner of London, searching for a girl he hardly knew. Benedict threw his sketchbook to the floor with a groan, rubbing his charcoal stained hands down his face in frustration.

He felt ridiculous, being so overcome with thoughts of someone he barely knew. The mystery and intrigue of it all certainly played a part in his curiosity, but he would be lying if he said it had nothing to do with the girl herself. Such circumstances made her a novelty to be sure, but she had exhibited qualities he had not often see from those of the ton. He had replayed their conversation a hundred times in his mind, and he was now sure that he knew at least something of her character.

To Benedict, she had seemed a well of profound, thoughtful emotion. She felt things deeply and was not ashamed to show it. This was in contrast to so many in his social class, who held propriety above all things--even their own feelings.

She had been shy, but still wasn't quite as naive as he may have first thought. She was clearly kind, but that didn't stop her from being quick-witted when she saw the occasion for it.

It had been such a short amount of time, but what he had learned of her had only fueled a desire to learn more.

Perhaps most interesting was that her insecurities seemed to match his own perfectly. He had been feeling rather useless following Anthony's return, and from what she had said she felt quite the same about her own situation. He had never expected to find a kindred spirit in one of the young ladies of the ton.

Not that Benedict thought them all completely incapable of deeper thought, it was only that his situation as a second-son was rather obviously specific only to sons. A woman could not inherit her families title even if she were the first born child, so it was unlikely to find one so worried over her place within the family hierarchy. It was their future husband's title that truly mattered.

He didn't know enough about the young lady's family to know for sure, but he supposed if her family had only daughters it would be up to the eldest to marry well to secure their family's title and estate. A second daughter would inevitably leave once she was wed, leading him to believe his mysterious young lady must also be quite loyal to worry about her family so.

Perhaps that was something to think on.

---

Benedict, so caught up in his own mind, failed to notice when the very woman occupying his thoughts appeared on the street below him.

She pulled the hood closer to her face as she looked up at him, his shadowed profile gazing up at the stars. He was difficult to make out in the low light, but she was quite certain it was him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

She was thankful to arrive having drawn no unnecessary attention. This time, she wore a less conspicuous dress than she had at the ball. It was made of a pale green fabric, cut in the popular style the other ladies of the ton were wearing. She had worn a silken, violet cloak over top so she was able to hide her face from view. Perhaps walking around covering her face was in itself a suspicious act, but anyone who may look at her strangely for it would have no opportunity to get a good look at her face, which was all that concerned her.

She may have avoided notice so far, but she faced a new problem: How was she to draw Benedict's eye without also drawing the attention of passersby on the street? She could not simply call out to him, but them he would need to be looking down at the street to alert him quietly. Frustratingly, at the moment he seemed content looking up at the sky, rather than down to earth.

She had only one other idea.

---

As Benedict sat deep in thought, he was roused by a small clank on the wall near his window. Before he had the chance to turn his head, something small and hard smacked him in the forehead. The surprise caused him to lose his balance, his body rocking back and forth in the open window. When he at last steadied himself, he rubbed his forehead, looking down to find whomever it was that had struck him.

A woman in a hooded cloak looked back up at him, gloved hands raised to her mouth in a look of surprise and worry.

Once she realized she had his attention, she pulled back her hood, and Benedict felt his heart jump to his throat.

It was her.

She was really here.

This time, the shock did cause him to tumble over, though thankfully landing on his bedroom floor rather than the street below. He scrambled to the window, popping his head out as he gripped the sill. She had one hand to her lips, her shoulders shaking as she tried to stifle a laugh. She quickly beckoned for him to come down before turning, pulling her hood back to it's place atop her golden curls.

Benedict fumbled as he stood, grabbing his coat and gloves from their place discarded on his bed as he all but ran out of the room. He nearly barreled straight into Anthony as he flew down the stairs, one arm in his jacket.

Anthony gave Benedict a suspicious look, "And where are you going in such a rush?"

"Out," Benedict replied simply, sliding his free arm through the empty sleeve.

"Out where?" Anthony asked, annoyed.

"Just out," Benedict reiterated, "Honestly brother, do you truly want to know?"

Anthony sighed, "No, I suppose I don't." He gave his brother a stern look, "Just be sure our mother doesn't catch you--I have to hear enough from her about Colin as it is."

Benedict smiled. He grabbed Anthony's face between his hands and gave his cheek a quick kiss, "Thank you brother!" Anthony made a disgusted noise, knocking Benedict's hands away, "This is why you're my favorite elder brother," he added as he began descending the rest of the staircase.

"I'm your only elder brother!" Anthony shot back, shaking his head as he turned away, continuing his way up to the second floor.

Benedict grinned from ear to ear as he burst through the doors of Bridgerton House. He turned when he reached the street, catching sight of her as she fidgeted with her hands nervously. His smile softened as he watched her, though in truth he was beginning to feel quite nervous himself. Benedict started to move toward her, and soon enough she caught sight of him. He smiled at her, his stomach doing somersaults when she shyly smiled back. They stood there in silence for a long moment, taking each other in.

"You're here," Benedict commented at last.

"Ah, yes...I am," she smiled as she glanced down briefly, "It's good to see you again, Mister Bridgerton--and I am quite sorry, about the rock." He looked at her in confusion, until she quickly pointed to her forehead and he realized her meaning.

"Oh! Was that what that was? It's no bother--after all, I can think of far worse things you could have thrown at me." The back of her fingers pressed lightly to her lips as she laughed. He smiled, feeling emboldened by her response to his rather silly joke, "Though, if you truly wanted to make it up to me, you could start by telling me your name?"

She looked surprised, "Oh, right. Of course. I suppose I did fail to give it to you when we spoke before."

"Yes, and I must say I've been taking it quite personally," he said, his lower lip pouting as he looked at her in mock sadness. She smiled.

"Well, I would hate to think I had caused you any pain," she joked, and he grinned back. "You may call me Beatrice."

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume

[atarathegreat]

My 'Pup' König

KorTac, who was better known for its swifter breeds, did have some war types sprinkled in. Mostly German Shepards, but the one that stood out was the Colonel. Colonel König was a Tibetan Mastiff born in an unknown area to a German mother and an unknown, foreign father. Bushy tail and fluffy ears aside. the Colonel was an absolute unit and killing machine. König had the sharpest canines on base, sharpest senses and even the sharpest tongue when he chose to speak.

Speaking with other members was never an issue, the man gave the clearest orders of anyone, but he avoided women. Women were to be respected and treated fairly in his squads...but avoided because he was nervous. First impressions meant everything, and if he didn't go full Colonel mode, he would fumble his words and make a mess of himself.

"She's a Tibetan, like you, so you'll be training her." König was given his order swiftly and without him having time to protest. Everyone could see that something was bothering him, his tail down instead of curled as it usually was. No one dared to ask, seeing how agitated the man was. So, no one raised a finger when a female Tibetan started to follow him around.

"You're the Colonel?" Your voice startled him. König had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to even notice your scent behind him. Steel toed boot, meet steel toed boot. You blocked his kick with one of your own, wagging your tail happily as he growled at you.

Great, I've already made a fool of myself... König grumbled to himself as he lowered his foot to the ground. "Apologies, I failed to notice your approach." König held a hand out to you. It was strange that you wagged your tail at a man who had bared his teeth (something you couldn't see because of his sniper's hood) at you and growled with every ounce of dog in his genes. "All good, Sir. I was informed to find you for my first day of training." The way you smiled at him showed your little canines. He wondered if they were as sharp as they looked.

"Today I want you to show me what you know -"

"Nothing, Sir." The interjection was...annoying, sure, but König could handle it, "I am fresh from camp, Sir. Not an ounce of knowledge in my brain." König sighed and pinned his ears back, "Alright, then spend the day learning the base and I'll figure out what we'll do tomorrow."

König watched your fluffy tail bounce away to make friends and learn the base, just as he'd ordered. He liked that. An obedient little thing, weren't you? For the next week you showcased your obedience and willingness to learn everything you needed to. Getting attached to you wasn't something that König planned on; it was just that you were perfect for him. Little, obedient, strong, and he couldn't help but notice the way you retained his scent from all the time you spent near him. It made him mess up when you were near, fumble his words, and trip over his moves while fighting.

"You smell sweet, pup, what's your name?" A large German Shepard was looming over you and smiling so his canines stuck out. As if she'd be swayed by your pathetic teeth. König glared at the display of what was supposed to be elitism but only came off as desperate. The fur of your tail bounced as you wagged, "I'm Y/n. You are?"

"My name doesn't matter, pup." The soldier was carefully holding some papers, so his nametag was hidden. "But I tell you what pup," He leaned over her and whispered, grinning as he glanced up at the colonel. When your tail stopped, König moved. It didn't matter what happened, you always wagged your tail and angled your ears to whoever was talking. No tail wags, ears flattened. König didn't like it.

"-and I'm sure you'd take my knot perfectly. Wouldn't you?"

König snatched you up by the back of your neck and tossed you over his shoulder, growling deep in his chest. The German Shepard, as they both abandoned rank to take part in the dominance battle, got chest-to-chest with König and growled back. There was a heavy decline in striking fear in the other male due to König's hood hiding his teeth. You were aware of how scary the Colonel could be from training, so you carefully reached around and raised the mask enough to flash his shiny canines.

"She ain't got your scent strapped to her." The German Shepard snarled; his tail lowered to show aggression. It was a move König didn't take kindly to. "Then you must be nose blind, she reeks of me." König growled, leaning to get in the man's face, "Might wanna go to the vet and get that fixed."

"König..." Gods, the way your sweet little voice calling him anything but 'Colonel' made his tail perk, "I'm gonna bite him if he doesn't leave you alone..."

"Then how about we get away and I'll show them all whose pup you are."

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus was born into a royal family. He never knew his carrier and his sire always hated him. One day his sire informs him that he is being married off to Megatron and Soundwave in order to end the war.

Rodimus is upset because he's heard all sorts of horror stories about the Decepticons growing up. He doesn't want to bond with them. His sire gets mad and he learns that his carrier was sent away after his sire found out they give birth with their tanks and that he has the same thing. He is pawning him off to the Decepticons because no one else will take him and it's either them or a brothel.

Learning his own sire thats always hated him sold him off to the Decepticons who were a notorious barbarian and wild kingdom with a history of vicious battle practices and punishments should not have been as much of a surprise as it had been.

Maybe it wasn’t the being sold off that was surprising but the way his sire emptied his tiny chamber with fire like a cleanse and stripped him to a sheer gown cheap shareware wore in the brothels he frequented since getting rid of his carrier, another surprise he had not known, was the surprise.

Being grabbed and stripped down for all to see was shameful and scarring on his processor but for his sire to say he was glad to be rid of him after spitting on his fabrics was a new low even for his sire.

“I’ve finally rid this kingdom of the last filthy tank pest and now good fortune can finally befall us with you gone. First your disease of a carrier that I rid to the wilds and later watched be torn apart by beasts when they came back for you. And now I’m finally rid of you. A stain on my bloodline and kingdom.”

He couldn’t view clearly with the smoke and coolant leaking from his optics as his sire smashed the crate closed and sent him off on a one way shipping container that would later be burned for use by the decepticon faction.

Much like himself.

He could only lay on the wooden planks and sob to himself as he realized he was on a slow shipment to his torment and death. He would suffer a fate of pain much like carrier who’d been discarded like rotten meat in such a delicate state to the literal cyber wolves.

His forehelm kissed the rough crate giving him scratches along his face plates and wood rub as tears and smoke seeped his optics. The pungent scent did little to assuage the change of city to deep wilderness and by the time he stopped mourning over a creator, the only creator, who loved him and risked their life to get to him.

He was at the outskirts of Decepticon territory where the boarding guards grabbed his crate and spoke in a foreign language his processor did not know.

The em field of confusion gave him the impression none knew he was inside and he was correct in his assumptions since most sent the offered conjunx in royal finery with their creator by their side. If he were worthy of such traditions he wouldn’t be here at all and allowed to roam the castles doing as he pleased while training to take over the thrown like the few royal families from his stories allowed their sparklings.

But that was nothing short of a sparkling tale.

This was real.

And his reality was unsealed by clawed servos a few hours later inside what seemed to be a cabin kept warm by a large fire.

He shuttered his optics closed, arms tightening around his exposed nozzles as his stabilizers hiked up to hide his exposed reproductive array. He couldn’t seize the cold shivering and chatter of his denta but he could try blocking out the horrified gasps and sounds of heavy pedes rushing off as tentacles leered above him.

He wasn’t expecting a soft blanket to cover and wrap around him. The warm, delicate, tentacles that lifted him from inside the crate and gently checked him over was also an optic opener.

Deep purple, black with hints of deep blue along with gray entered his bleary optics and the foreign language yet again reached his audials that came into focus.

He didn’t understand what they were saying to one another but he knew the field of disbelief and anger when it burst forth and presented itself in a physical manifestation of clenched servos and he was not ready to mentally handle the torture they would give him.

“Wait! I’ll make it easy! Just please don’t!”

He kept his optics down from meeting glowing red and the black visor that he couldn’t see anything past and tilted his neck cables to show submission. He was shaky in his movements as he forced himself to hold the position and lower the blanket but tentacles stopped him and the fields were hidden from his sensor net.

Rodimus couldn’t comprehend exactly what that meant or what they wanted from him since he knew he was sold for whatever they desired from him and seeing as his sire always spoke of him being nothing more than brothel material he figured his conjunx selling would basically be the same purpose.

“Mistake: anger toward sire. Intention: to have as conjunx, equal conjunx. Slave: you are not.”

The purple and deep blue mechs voice module was deceptively deep and an odd soothing capability that made Rodimus almost believe what he was saying.

“My conjunx is correct. We asked for your servo in conjunx ritus. Not to be sold and treated like this. May we know who did this to you? We shall send word to your kingdom and hunt down the scoundrels who’ve defiled and hurt you as such.”

The command and seething yet restrained emotions that swam in the other mechs vox told Rodimus this was the leader of the decepticons who lead his armies to ruin the cities and kingdoms that dare stood in his way. This was the kings conjunx who stood right by his side and conquered in equal just as he did.

This was the pair his sire sold him to.

Two mechs he couldn’t hope to defend himself from no matter the kind words they try to imply nor the care they show now…they were mechs in power just as his sire…one wrong move…

“I can freshen myself and become presentable. There is no need to worry or concern. I am fine.”

“You are most certainly not,” the king burst forth.

The purple mech held out a quiet servo to the king and took a clip step closer making Rodimus vents hitch.

“Wash racks: in need of. First aid: inside as well. Come: it will help.”

The slender mech used his tentacles to tighter around his frame and lift him further as he carried him easily to the wash racks that looked beautiful and cleaner than the rooms of his old kingdom. Not dirtied by polluted metals or filth. Carved, smoothed and crafted along with the earth and holed with warmth.

It made him less anxious as a solvent was ran and he was quietly directed to where everything was located before being given a key that locked the room from the inside and he was left in private where he stared at the closed door for a klik too long then rushed to lock it and stand with his back plates to it. Gaze searching for a way out only to stutter his vents with each realization that hit him.

He didn’t know where he was.

This could be a trick.

He could be surrounded.

His sire would not take him back.

He was all alone with no currency, no farming skills and no trade skills nor craftsmanship.

He was slagged and stuck here.

‘Frag,’ he sobbed outwardly, as he slid to the floor, balling up to hold himself just as he once did in the kingdom as a sparkling when locked in the dungeons.

‘Frag!’

He did not hear the quiet that rung out his sobs nor the promise made between two kings to destroy the rule of Rodimus’s sire who sold off his own creation when they only wanted his servo and spark after being graced with his kindness all those years ago.

[letomills]

Download skins: SFS / Mega

A set of 22 geneticized & townified skins, including defaults for S1-S2-S3-S4 and the alien skin. Credit for the original skins goes to @whysim, Nat / @theboldandthebeautifulsims, @pooklet and Tea Leaf, thank you so much to them!

I did however make substantial tweaks and additions to all skins: • everyone TU-EU has the appropriate fat, normal and fit states (for the alien textures to show up as they should, please use Argon's alien and zombie fitness fix) • all elders have wrinkles, except on the alien skin (I used @simnopke's subtle wrinkles) • all toddlers have the cute toddler teeth and babies have no teeth, • teeth from Nat's, Pooklet's and Tea Leaf's skins were replaced either with ones from the Whysim skins or the ones used on @serabiet's Those Darn Skins, just because they're less bright and I like that better • all skins are compatible with sexyfeet (I just had to cover up a watermark on one of them iirc) • lowered the color temperature on Whysim BuffyHP Tan Skinblend TG (S2).

Complete previews of AU-EU faces and uncensored bodies (fat, normal and fit) are included in the download, which is why it's such a large archive (the skins themselves aren't particularly heavy, don't worry). Teens get the same textures as adults; children, toddler and babies have their own.

More details below.

Skins and links to the originals:

Whysim Misc Skin Blend 32TG - Whysim Tifa 57 Edit TG

Default S1: Whysim Misc Skin Blend 30TG - Whysim Misc Skin Blend 40TG

Whysim Misc Skin Blend 37TG - Whysim Misc Skin Blend 31TG

Default S2: Whysim BuffyHP Tan Skinblend TG (my edit: more pink, less orange) - Whysim Ashleydoll Blend Edit TG

Nat Bambi Expanded 7 - Whysim Misc Skin Blend 19TG

Whysim BuffyHP Dark TG - Default S3: Whysim Misc Skin Blend 29TG

Whysim Misc Skin Blend 7TG - Nat Bambi Expanded 10

Nat Bambi Expanded 12 - Pooklet My Poor Lover 06

Nat Bambi Expanded 14 - Pooklet Mouseyblue Dusk Skin 03

Default S4: Pooklet My Poor Lover 07 - Nat Bambi Expanded 18

Pooklet My Poor Lover 08 - Default alien: Tea Leaf Stargazer MPL Zoen Blend

These skins are townified, meaning that new townies and NPCs that spawn can get them. They are also geneticized, meaning that they have genetic values that inform which skintones will be given to babies born in game. Basically babies will always get skintones that fall in between or on the skintones that their biological parents have, as is the case for the four default skintones.

You can see the genetic value that I assigned to a skin at the end its file name. Example: "1_Whysim_MiscSkinBlend32TG_0.05.package" → this skin has a genetic value of 0.05. The skins that are S1-S4 default replacements have respective genetic values of 0.1, 0.3, 0.6 and 0.9. For more info on that and to learn how to change a custom skin's genetic value, see Rikkulidea's tutorial.

If you don't want all 22 skins but just a selection, feel free to pick and choose and it won't disrupt anything when it comes to genetics (if you want to mix them with other skins however, you may want to make sure that all the genetic values really are in a sequence from lightest to darkest). If on the other hand you think 22 skins isn't enough, check you @esotheria-sims's 97 geneticized skins 💖

Please let me know if you encounter any issues or have any questions.

✨Future plans for body shapes: these here skins are regular skins linked to the standard Maxis body shapes. I will be working on showerproof skins for custom body shapes that will be repo'd to these skins, starting with Momma Lisa/Melodie9 fat male (edit: it's here!). It may take a while but in the end all 22 skins will come in showerproof versions for as many body shapes as I have the mental fortitude to do (making showerproof skins is an excruciating mix of requiring focus and discipline while being extremely tedious).

~

The F hair used on the titlecard is @fakebloood's SClub Haruki in dynamite - the M hair below the cut is AlmightyHat's Shorn in dynamite - the eyes in all previews are from this set by @serabiet - the eyebrows are defaults by Cavernosims.

[takadokii]

✴ what the heart wants !! ‧₊.࿐

summary You try to test your luck and have a vulnerable conversation with Satoru. But all he's thinking about is kissing you, and he doesn't understand the concept of crying anyway. pairing high school!gojo satoru x f!reader tags soft fluff, comfort, gojo doesn't know emotions (canon) warnings reader mentions that they cried last night, one nono word word count 810 links collection ; taglist

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! 🩵

"When was the last time you cried?" 

The question caught Satoru off-guard. Sometimes, words would leave your mouth that would make him feel so small and stupid. He straightened his back, standing tense and tall. A million thoughts raced through his head about what could have possibly prompted you to ask such a silly question.

Did he look like he cried recently? Are you asking just out of pure curiosity? What made you think about that right now in the first place?

"I cried yesterday when you punched me, remember?"

You punch him again.

"Stop fooling around, you know what I mean...like really cry." You don't look at him when you say this. Trying to get Gojo's mood to match yours was about as easy as getting him to shut up for more than 5 minutes.

But tonight, you felt extra vulnerable for no apparent reason at all.

"I don't remember. It's been a while. I probably haven't cried since I was five." 

You hum in acknowledgement, your hand running up the material of the sweater you had worn that night, fingernails brushing against one of the larger loops in your knitted sweater.

And because it's Gojo, of course, this rare, vulnerable sentence must be followed up with a 3-minute monologue with the sole purpose of sucking his own dick.

"I mean... What would I even cry about? I'm pretty. I'm talented. I'm funny and smart. I have no reason to waste my tears. Tears of joy, maybe. Because I was born so pretty and smart and talented and-"

"I cried last night," you interrupted Gojo with a shrug. It was spoken with so little emotion like you were just throwing it out there. A quick, fun little life update as if you were telling him about a new show you started last night.

"...huh?!" Gojo was shocked. He was unable to process this information, as well as unsure what he was supposed to do now. Because, unbeknownst to you, in his eyes, you were just about as talented and intelligent and maybe even a little prettier than him, so this didn't make any sense.

"Why would you ever need to cry? Who made you cry?!" This sentence left his mouth in a way more harsh, belittling and "invalidating your problems" kind of tone than he had intended.

This was Gojo Satoru, after all, of course, the question is who, what else could there be but people that hurt people?

You, knowing he was just a spoiled, confused little child on the inside (and the outside), recognised his intention behind the sentence anyway and answered.

"I don't know...I just wanted to."

"Wanted to?" Gojo was beyond confused. Crying had become a distant concept to him a long time ago. Usually, whenever he felt overwhelmed or hurt, his emotions would skip sadness and instantly transform into annoyance or anger. But for you, it seemed freeing.

For Gojo, crying was a line that mustn't be crossed, a door unopened, its key buried in a drawer in the room he grew up in.

"It's okay to want to cry. Nothing to feel guilty about. The heart knows what it wants."

But for you, crying was something good, letting everything you had carried with you seep out, wipe it away with a tissue and let it dry out, long forgotten in the trash.

You had learned not to let it overflow or push yourself to test how much you can carry. Sometimes, you just felt weak, and everything else felt heavy, and you had accepted that.

Of course, Gojo Satoru wouldn't know what that's like. He had never felt weak in his life, and something inside of you told you that you wouldn't live to see many instances in which he would.

"I felt much better after," you elaborated, seeing him go through the mental turmoil you hoped to ease his mind, "I feel much better now."

Gojo doesn't understand. He understands so little he doesn't even know where he'd begin to attempt to understand.  

He's physically distraught by the confusion you had just set aflame in him.

"Well...if you ever cry again, you better not come to me because I am not at all emotionally capable of handling that."

You roll your eyes but grin nonetheless, nudging him with your shoulder before stepping closer and pressing yourself into him. Instinctively, Gojo raises his arm, letting you slip underneath as he places his hand on the sleeve of your sweater.

One of his fingers gets stuck in a loop, his eyes get stuck on your smile, and he tries hard not to kiss you right then and there.

Continuing to stare, a fluttery hot feeling formed in his chest, and he realised just how braver you were than him for giving in to what your heart wanted.

thanks for all the love on my latest one shot! :)

i hope the layout of my collection isn't too confusing, I'm working on making it more manageable and easy to understand!

i've put a lot of heart into this universe, the dynamic and my characters so I'm probably just thinking too far ahead.

i'm very happy i've started this and i can't wait for you all to see what i have in store!

love, jae 🩵

[stuckysbike]

The Queen Who Married Two Kings 4

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve (pre-established Stucky)

Arranged Marriage AU, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU

Rating/Warnings: Over 18's only, there will be dark themes and explicit sexual situations. Reader is Stark born, and they're shitty to her. Sex, m/f and m/m, p in v, oral (male and female receiving). I think that’s all.

I’ve tried not to describe reader at all so you can be whomever you want.

Summary: Betrothed to two Kings, you travel with them to their home where you learn more than you ever thought you would. But how are you to cope with two husbands who want to start a family and secure their place in the world?

Chapter Summary: You find yourself in your new home with plenty to explore.

Chapter 3

You were officially lost. 

Everything looked the same; strong stone walls encased wide corridors and heavy tapestries covered the walls telling stories of great battles and brave heroes of the past. 

You followed Steve through the castle moving further back, and eventually the corridors narrowed. Steve kept a strong arm around your waist and was careful not to overwhelm you with information, knowing how tired you were from your arduous journey here. 

"Our private rooms are in the tower at the back of the castle. It was built into the rocks by my ancestors, and it's pretty special," Steve said as he guided you to a corridor then up a set of shallow stone steps. A pair of heavy oak doors greeted you at the top and Steve opened them himself, you noticed no guards or footmen stood guard, and then Steve was guiding you into the room. 

Warm couches were placed around a stone fireplace and a welcoming fire roared in the grate. A black kettle sat on the hearth. The rug in front of the fire looked thick and you imagined curling your toes into it. Bookcases lined one wall and thick drapes covered windows and the door to the balcony Steve explained. A further set of doors led to the bedroom, and you gasped at the sight of the huge bed in the middle of the room piled with thick blankets and soft pillows. 

“The bed is massive,” you gasped, and Steve chuckled softly. 

“Well Buck and I like our space,” he said nudging you gently.

"There's a dressing room in there, we'll get your things unpacked soon, but let’s go this way," Steve said guiding you to another door. You stepped into a dark corridor of stone. Steve’s broad shoulders filled the space behind you and at his urging you followed the path to what was a beautiful cavern. It was warm but not stifling, and steam curled up from several pools dotted around the cave. Long benches were carved into the walls and shelves held jars and bottles of what looked like creams and lotions. Fluffy towels and robes were piled high. 

"Steve," you breathed looking around the room. "This is amazing."

"It's all natural, it's one of our favourite places," Steve admitted. "May I help you undress?"

You looked down at your heavy gown and realised that it had been days since you were free of the heavy materials. 

Several days ago, you would have been embarrassed but now you just wanted to sink into the inviting water and let it wash away your old life. You nodded, and Steve immediately went about removing the layers of clothes. 

"I'm missing the performance," you heard Bucky say as he entered the room. He had lost most of his armour and was just in his undershirt and pants. He pressed a kiss to your lips and stroked a lock of hair behind your ear. "What do you think?"

"This is amazing," you whispered looking around. Steve chuckled behind you as he worked the tassels that kept your dress closed. 

By the time you were down to your linen shift your cheeks were blushing. Both men were cautious and gentle as they helped it over your head and then you stood naked. Moments later they were naked too and then sure hands and thick arms were guiding you towards one of the pools. 

It was strange being naked with both men. You expected to feel uncomfortable, you expected their eyes to roam your flesh but instead they only allowed themselves quick glances just as you did. You were their focus, not your body. 

The water was warmer than you expected. Steve got in first and lifted you easily, his warm calloused hands gripping your waist. He smiled at your delighted sigh as he guided you deeper into the water until your breasts were covered. 

You felt safe with both, you felt heard even though you had barely spoke. They were careful to ensure your comfort was priority, their hands stayed above the water brushing shoulders and cheeks.

“Here,” Steve nodded to the edge of the pool, “you can sit back.”

You did, and it was bliss. It was like the stone had been made for you, smoothed, and curved into your shape. You sank in and relaxed, letting the water take your weight. 

“We have a few places we like to retreat to, and this is one of them,” Bucky said softly as he reached for your hand. “After a long journey, or even a long day, this is the perfect place to hide.”

“Our kingdom is keen to meet you, but Bruce our Chancellor has insisted we take a rest, a three-day honeymoon if you will. After that there will be some public appearances the three of us will need to make and you’ll need to meet with your council.”

“Stevie,” Bucky squeezed his bicep. 

Steve frowned between you and Bucky, and then he smiled, a soft curve of the lips. “I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself,” Steve said. “This should be about us.”

“Would you like a drink?” Bucky asked. 

You nodded and soon you were sipping sparkling wine from a dainty goblet. “Now,” Steve said, “tell me about the woman we married?”

You hesitated, what was there to tell? You thought about your life and how ill prepared you were for the world, how you could barely ride a horse. Reading, letter writing, some hand crafts and art were really all you knew. The women who had surrounded you were demure, with a few racy older ladies who made it their duty to ensure they explained how to please men in bed. 

You knew all about pregnancy and childbirth, raising children and ensuring a husband’s emotional needs were met, but other than that you didn't know. A blank canvas on your art easel came to mind, and you took a deep breath. "There's not much to tell, I think you both know everything there is to know already."

Steve and Bucky shared a look and then Steve leaned back and spread his arms along the stone lip of the pool, his fingers brushed your shoulder. "Okay, new question. Tell us what you want?"

"Oh, that's easy, I want to get to know everything there is to know about my new home, I want to learn to ride and study the land, what crops do you grow, what do you mine, what are the people like, your histories, your folk tales, I want to know it all!" You gushed. 

Steve laughed, a deep booming noise that startled you. Bucky was chuckling too, and their mirth made you smile right along with them. 

Steve reached for you, his strong hands lifting your legs into his lap. He rubbed your feet and calves then worked his way up to your aching thighs. Bucky was behind you his strong hands working your shoulders. 

“I can barely wait to wash you after our first battle together," Bucky muttered leaning forward to kiss your cheek. Steve copied him, leaning towards your lips with his own. It was chaste, a brush of the lips together but you could feel the passion he was holding back, could almost see the tension in his body as something shifted in the air between you. Steve's hands caressed over your soft hips, gripped your waist, and trailed up your body to cup your breasts. 

"Imagine it Buck, covered in blood, her chest heaving with adrenalin, her beautiful lips parted, and eyes lost to the passion," Steve said. 

You clenched your thighs together, you'd never thought of that before, but now you wanted nothing more than to be that woman Steve pictured. 

"Hm, our Goddess," Bucky muttered, his lips kissing down your neck and then he nipped your shoulder with sharp teeth. You yelped in surprise and Steve and Bucky shared another playful look. 

"Why don't we finish up here and go to bed, what do you say sweet thing?" Steve's fingers shifted your hair, pushing your curls behind your ears. 

"That would be nice," you said, suddenly nervous. Your chest tightened as Steve lifted you easily from the water, following close behind you. He wrapped a robe around you and rubbed your arms and chest to help you dry off. 

“Steve,” you said, and he turned to look at you. “I have nothing but this.” You said looking at your sad worn wedding dress in a heap on the ground. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that. You won’t need clothes for a few days, and then we’ll get you plenty to keep the cold off your back,” Steve's voice was rough as he pulled you against his and kissed your mouth, letting his tongue lick along your bottom lip. He pulled away and led you back into the main room.

Candles flickered on the dresser, and there were lamps next to the bed, the glow low in the room. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth and the bed was already turned down, pillows and blankets spread out and awaiting bodies to warm them. You held Steve's hand, following him as he moved around the room comfortable in his body. 

Steve had a beautiful body; his back was long and muscled and the globes of his ass were round and firm. His thighs were thick, and his legs strong. His shoulders were broad with a dusting of light freckles. Bucky was more tanned, and while shorter than Steve, but only slightly, he was still broad and thick. You wondered how lovemaking would work, how they would take you? 

It was Bucky whose hands slid around your waist; his lips pressed into your cheek. His hands opened your robe and his rough fingers brushed down your soft skin, still warm from the pool of water you'd left. The robe fell to your feet in a puddle and Bucky explored you with the tips of his fingers, his thumbs grazing your nipples. He cupped your mound softly and used a finger to part your lips. You gasped and your eyes fell closed at this foreign sensation on your body. Bucky took advantage of your open mouth to press the fingers of his free hand in. 

"Suck," he ordered, and you did, swirling your tongue around him and wondering where this knowledge had come from. Between your legs Bucky's other hand was busy parting your folds and gathering your natural slick. "Open your eyes."

You did, gasping, and you watched as Steve stood across from you, his body coiled like he was ready to pounce. 

Bucky drew his hand from between your legs, and you felt your cheeks flush at the sight of your natural slick coating his fingers. To your surprise have brought them to his mouth, and then he moaned behind you. The noise made you gasp, and Steve huffed out a soft breath. "King Steven," Bucky's voice was thick with arousal and you swallowed, your cunt clenching around nothing at his tone, "come over here and taste your Queen."

It was like a chain was snapped. Steve lurched forward and took Bucky's fingers into his mouth. He moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he licked the digits clean and then he was kissing you. You tasted yourself on his tongue but before you could process, he had reached around you for Bucky. They crushed you between them as they kissed, and then as one you began to move towards the bed. Steve fell back onto it and scrambled into the centre; his lust blown pupils nearly black. 

Bucky chuckled, "he's not so royal when he's horny," Bucky confided in your ear as he gripped your waist and lifted you onto the bed. You gasped and lurched forward, your hands landing on either side of Steve's hips. His cock was in front of your face, long and red and glistening at the tip and his heavy sac hung low between his legs. Bucky nudged you further and you moved so your legs were on either side of his hips. Bucky's body pressed flush against yours and he lifted you back onto his lap, easily spreading your legs over his thick thighs. You were completely exposed to Steve, and he watched with interest as Bucky resumed his exploration of your pussy. 

One long finger danced over your hole, and you tensed but Bucky hushed you, kissing your neck and using his thumb to move upwards. You wondered what he was doing until you gasped out loud when he touched something. "Like that?"

"Yes, yes yes! Do it again!" You demanded. Bucky chuckled and did as you asked, his thumb caressing the side of your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

"Like that?" He asked and your pussy gripped at the finger easing out of your channel. You had no idea when he slid his fingers in, you'd barely noticed anything but the good work his thumb was doing. 

"Yes," you sighed as Bucky added another finger, spreading you wide and exploring your channel, and then he curled his fingers. You cried out and Bucky grunted in satisfaction, repeating the motion until you were writhing in his lap as you chased his hand. Your first orgasm was an explosion of light in your gut, and you twisted away from him whilst holding his hand against your body. You didn't know what you wanted, all you knew was that you wanted that to happen again and again. 

"There she is," Bucky said as he moved your body forward and soon you were kneeling over Steve's weeping cock. "Take it easy now, I stretched you out, but he'll still be a snug fit okay darling," Bucky's hands rested on your hips. 

It was a stretch, and whilst there was a light sting that went away after a few moments it wasn't the pain you had been led to expect. "Can I move?" 

Steve chuckled and leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue followed in a filthy path as he kissed you deep. "You can do whatever you want sweet thing."

You bet your lip, lifted your hips, and eased them back down. Steve groaned and his hands gripped your thighs, but he didn't move other ways. 

It took a few moments, but you got an easy rhythm going that made you want to close yourself around Steve. Steve in turn was stroking your thighs, his thumbs tracing little patterns, the tickling sensation adding to your pleasure. 

"So good, sweet thing, such a good girl for us, look Stevie, look at our girl, look how she's taking you and this is only her first time..." Bucky babbled behind you, his mouth never stopping as he praised you and caressed you, one hand gripping your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. His other hand was still between your legs, his fingers grazing over your clit as your rhythm increased. 

"Buck," Steve groaned. "Buck I'm close."

"S'ok baby, you cum," Bucky said. His hand left your breast and you felt it brush against the meat of your ass as he moved, and Steve cried out suddenly, his hips moving up, jostling you from your place. His cock grazed your sweet spot, and you cried out, hands going to his shoulders, and then you were on your back, Steve hovering over you as he pumped into your body. His mouth latched to yours and he swallowed your moans and whines as you both spasmed together, Steve coming inside you. 

You lay, your breasts heaving, as you tried to catch your breath. Steve kissed you then sat back, looking at the mess between your thighs. His cock slipped from your used and sensitive pussy, and you gasped at the sensation. You heard a groan from Bucky and you both turned your attention to him. He was tugging his cock roughly and to your surprise Steve batted his hands away and leaned down to suck Bucky into his mouth. Bucky's hips jerked and Steve gagged and then it was over, Bucky slumping onto the bed next to you. 

"Hey sweet thing," he grinned, and you flushed, shy despite all you had shared with them. 

"Hello," you smiled. Bucky pressed his lips to your nose, lips, and chin and then he got up, pecking Steve's lips as he went. A few moments later they were cleaning you carefully with damp rags and then you were being tucked into the middle of the bed between them. 

_____________________

A rattling noise woke you. You rubbed at your eyes and tried to sit up but a heavy arm across your body held you down. 

It was Steve, his face tucked into your neck, his soft snores warming your heart. On the other side of you the bed was warm but empty, and then you heard that noise again. You stretched your neck and caught sight of a naked Bucky making his way across the room. 

"What are you doing awake?" He asked you as he settled under the blankets and kissed your forehead. 

"What's that noise?" You asked looking around. 

"A storm has lifted, it's the wind," Bucky explained as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "You are truly beautiful."

You blushed, not used to complements sounding so genuine. Bucky's fingers found the back of your neck and much like in the water earlier he started to work into the knots in your neck. You moaned, feeling the muscle loosen as he worked you. Behind you Steve mumbled something and rolled over, smacking his lips. The action made you and Bucky share a chuckle. 

"What's going to happen?" You asked. You were naive and you knew it, you felt useless, had done for most of your life, but you knew something wasn't right, something was about to happen that would impact your lives. 

"I don't know," Bucky said. "But I do know that you're home now and this is your place, between us. You're never getting away from us doll."

You snuggled against his broad shoulder, his skin was warm to the touch, and you rubbed your cheek against him. Bucky kissed your hair and pulled you into his side where after a few moments you drifted off to sleep.

_____________________

You woke early with the first daylight. 

The bed was still warm, but you were alone. You looked around and spotted Steve crouching by the fire. 

You watched him carefully and when he noticed you, he grinned and stood up. You admired his long legs and broad shoulders that met at his almost delicate narrow waist as he walked towards the bed.

“Morning sweetheart,” he murmured pressing his lips to yours. He slid beneath the blankets and pulled you into his arms.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked as you snuggled close, pressing your nose into his neck and letting your eyes fall closed. 

“Hungry,” Steve answered. “He went off in search of food.”

You nodded and stretched flipping onto your back, spreading your toes, and beaming up at the ceiling. “If I were at home I’d have been chased from my bed by now.”

“We’re not so strict here,” Steve said. “But normally we’d be up and chasing the morning, catching up on what’s been happening, doing chores.”

“Why aren’t you?” You asked turning to him. His hair was mussed but he looked content, soft almost as he turned to look back at you. 

“It’s our honeymoon,” Steve grinned as he rolled on top of you. “May I kiss you?”

You nodded, your eyes searching his. His face was so close you could see flecks of green in his eyes. When he came closer you let your eyes fall closed, your lips pressing to his. Steve was gentle and took his time exploring your mouth. 

Here in bed, caged under his powerful body with his sculpted arms either side of your head you felt safe and cherished. His weight was comfortable, and you stroked your fingers over his smooth neck, toying with the fine hairs there. Steve’s eyes softened as he watched you. “What?” You asked, your voice barley above a whisper. 

“Just you Sweet Thing,” he dipped his nose against yours, brushing them together. You giggled at the sensation only to be interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“So, this is what you get up to as soon as I’m out of the room?” Bucky teased. He held a massive tray of food and your tummy growled at the sight. Steve rolled away and you sat up eager to see what delights Bucky had in store, but his bulging arms distracted you, and you counted yourself lucky at how beautifully put together these two men were. The three of you spent the rest of the morning eating and talking without leaving the bed. 

_____________________

The breeze ruffled your hair as you stood outside looking across the bay.

Below you the city sprawled on a hillside, looping around the bottom of the hill. High walls protected the city with hefty wooden gates keeping danger at bay. Wooden ships bobbed in the bay protecting the city from the seas. Across the water farms coated the hillsides, with sheep and goats grazing the rougher areas where the flat ground was kept for crops.

You pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders and nestled your cheek into the soft material. This was your home now, your land. You belonged here, you were part of it, and you would live off it and you would protect it, with your life you would protect it. That was your duty now, that was your responsibility.

You smiled and turned back to the bedroom. Steve lounged on the bed, his ankles crossed as he listened to Bucky telling some story or other. When Steve saw you, his eyes softened and Bucky followed his husbands gaze, his eyes crinkling when he saw you. He patted the spot on the bed next to him and you slipped the door closed and hurried to them, dropping onto the bed between them. You snuggled against Steve and glanced up at Bucky as he resumed his story.

The fire crackled and Bucky’s warm hand cupped your ankle as he ran his thumb over your skin. You spent the evening like that, getting to know these men and this country that you now called home. You wondered, as you listened, what the future held for all of you.

[meguwumibear]

fics for gaza

hello everyone!! let's see how this goes. i will be participating in the @ficsforgaza initiative in an effort to raise money towards vetted fundraisers. please follow the blog and reach out with additional questions there.

sponsor a wip

if you would like to sponsor any of my following wips, you will make a donation to any of the vetted fundraisers and send proof of donation in the form of a screenshot to myself. please block out all personal info when sending proof and indicate which of the following wips you'd like your donation to count towards. $1 will get you 100 words.

better a beta

beta!dabi x omega!reader (NSFW, dubious consent) endeavor has a hot new intern at his hero agency and dabi can't wait to ruin her

no rest for the wicked 1,500/10,000

post war dabi x reader (NSFW) the plf successfully defeats hero society. shame they're having such a hard time rebuilding the world in their image. lucky for them you worked for the hpsc and are great with pr

untitled

hawks x reader (NSFW, dubious consent)

i'm having a hard time summarizing this but basically the reader was left behind by the plf after the gigantomachia incident and hawks finds her holed up in a hotel room. they've both had sexual experiences with dabi and in his absence, well...

untitled

megumi x reader (no curse au, currently sfw) 1,000/?

meet ugly in which megumi loses control of his dogs and in an earnest attempt to stop them from escaping you get knocked flat on your ass

untitled

megumi x reader (no curse au, NSFW) 500/8,000

your shitty roommate cheats on her nice boyfriend and you suffer the consequences. years later you reconnect with her ex and wonder what life would have been like if you'd been the one to date him instead.

untitled

nai x reader (currently sfw)

once, as a child, you stick your nose where it doesn't belong. you learn what a plant is and what your survival costs. now you're a plant engineer who's caught the eye of someone or something dangerous.

i was born knowing you 500/?

astarion x reader (currently sfw, plot heavy, complex mc) a mysterious, irremovable ring finds itself on your finger. as long as you wear it you are cursed to be forgotten. decades into your sentence, you stumble across a pale elf able to remember.

requests

i will also open 3-5 request slots. same pricing as above ($1 per 100 words) however I am going to cap requests at 1,000 words. i reserve the right to decline requests i do not feel comfortable taking on.

what i'll write for:

jjk: open to most characters, especially megumi, yuuji, sukuna, and nanami. if you request a character i do not feel i can do justice i will inform you so

bnha: again open to most characters, especially dabi, tomura, hawks, shouto, and shinsou. and again if you request a character i do not feel i can do justice i will inform you so

trigun: wolfwood, vash, nai, legato

bg3: astarion

you can ask about other fandoms but these are currently my mains.

i am comfortable writing dark content and nsfw. if you would like to request something from me i ask you do so off anon with your age in your bio.

i will not write pregnancy or kid fics but am open to basically anything else. if you are curious about other content i will or won't write for feel free to ask.

i will do my best to send updates regarding the wc of your request. please keep in mind i work during the week and do not always have the time to write consistently.

[v4voracity]

HALF A HEART - COD characters x Poltergeist!reader

POLTERGEIST COD AU

⥇❥"Reader" is a literal ghost, AFAB reader and referred primarily as to as "you", sometimes explicitly referred to as a woman, implied to be British and implied to have died in the 1500s/16th century, though the location isn’t relevant for much other than attempted historical accuracy with her death/why she’s in England. Reader is also not said to be of any skin tone or ethnicity, just that she was *likely* born in England. Reader is from a time when afab people weren't commonly educated and canonically has slight trouble reading and learning after her death since she can't access books or learning materials and had to self-teach herself to read and write after death where she couldn't ask for help, this will probably change though after she meets 141. Said information is slightly relevant to the plot, though I can make an alternate version if people want an amab/gender neutral reader :)

also roach is canonically part of this and has little antenna attachments to his helmet because i said so

  ⥇❥Word Count: 4096, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ Technically age gap? Reader was born and died long before any cod character ↪ possibly historically inaccurate as i was unfortunately not alive in the 1500s nor most of the following time periods ↪ possibly incorrect depictions of a ‘poltergeist’, as reader is an amalgamation of different types of ghosts/folklore (i mainly just didn't want to use the term ‘ghost’ because it’d be confusing with Ghost the character) ↪ possibly OOC characters ↪ american author writing europeans ↪reader is (basically) rasputin with their death ↪ slight mentions of religion or religious themes (mainly about the afterlife, existence of heaven/hell, and brief mentions of witch trials which were mostly religiously motivated.) ↪graphic description of how reader died (witch trials, so think salem witch trials kind of graphic)

let me know if i missed anything or should edit the content warnings!

Link to main masterlist - Link to HALF A HEART sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

Let’s get things straight. You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Deader than a doornail, in-fact, you’ve been dead for almost.. 500 years now? Well, you're rounding slightly but nobody cares for the exact amount of time.

Now, that is a long time to be dead for… Well, a long time to be dead but still conscious; a spirit, ghost, apparition, whatever you wanted to call it. If it weren’t for the fact you were more-so apparition than person, you’d almost say it’s like being alive and immortal for longer than god (or genetics, you weren’t picky) ever intended. 

And being ‘alive’ for so long is very boring; especially now that the deep-seeded anger in your heart has faded, those who wronged you long gone and their kin far too distant from them for you to ever wish ill-will towards them. Especially now that the fear you felt, the horrific terror you felt being escorted to your improper grave and the existential dread that hung heavy when you revived, only to realize you hadn’t survived nor been healed for a second chance. No, you were dead; rejected by both heaven and hell, not even worthy for eternal damnation. The only upside to this was that you were still capable of interacting with the living world; more than you could say for the very, very, VERY small number of ghouls you had met in your time of unliving. Apparently you were a bit unusual, you being far more capable and capable of manipulating the living world than the 'run-of-the-mill' ghost.

That being said, your current behavior, which was following around some hunky military men like a lovesick maiden, was totally excusable…

…It wasn’t creepy, no, you weren’t being improper. You were totally just... curious. It couldn’t have been the fact that you died unwed— a pure virgin, hardly having even engaged in romantic acts, as you were devout in your chaste nature. I mean, surely your absolute devotion which led to you never even kissing a man or woman, holding hands or lying with someone earned you a little justification to do… whatever you were doing right now.

Okay, maybe it was a bit creepy. But dying a without so much as ever having ONE cute little date with heated cheeks, bashful giggles, and butterflies in your stomach as your hands brushed each others— FOLLOWED by being forced to go entirely unperceived much less feeling any sort of physical contact or verbal interaction for A COUPLE CENTURIES makes this somewhat understandable.

It’s not like you were really DOING anything, (because, again, that was a wee-bit hard in your current state) you’ve just kind of been following this guy around?

(You followed him around because you overheard people refer to him as ‘Ghost’ and as an actual ghost you found that a little funny)

Then that led to you following his team around. You had, somewhat, messed with the men— not much, mainly flickering lights, closing doors, and moving objects slightly.

There had been slight complaints, but not much indicating they knew they were facing a lonely, dead girl who died unfairly supernatural danger in the form of a poltergeist with abnormally strong powers. Just assumptions that ‘the wiring was faulty’, or that ‘someone must’ve left a window open’, sometimes they just assume someone knocked something over (despite nobody being near said knocked object). Oh, and your favorite was that ‘some stupid recruits moving shit’— speaking of which— the guys you followed were all pretty high-ranking from your understanding and occasionally trained recruits. That was cool in its own right, but it was especially great for you because you could lob stuff at them and get some poor recruit in trouble. It was fun.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fun enough to keep you entertained. Now, given when you were born and raised it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t particularly that literate. Your brain (long gone and returned to the ground) wasn’t even physical or attached to you anymore, so it wasn’t a surprise that learning things was often hard for you(something you hated in death, as learning things would help pass the time if it weren't frustrating and near impossible both because you couldn’t access physical hobbies or items like books AND because your brain—or lack thereof— simply didn’t take to information like it used to), but you knew enough of written English to make out most newspapers and documents. Despite that, you had very little clue of the strange ciphers and terms used by the men, even though you had remained mainly around the military base they were staying in for a few months. 

…That was until recently, when you decided you were curious enough to try and actually learn about what they’re doing. You were currently following this guy— Captain Price, you think— because from what you knew (as a woman who died in the middle ages, uneducated, illiterate, dying fairly young by today's standards anyways and having lived without ever partaking in any wars or battles and not ever bothering to ask about any) he was the highest rank of the team, followed by that ‘Ghost’ guy you originally followed (he’s called a lieutenant, a word you hated writing or reading because it was so damn hard to spell or even look at), then this ‘Soap’ fella (A sergeant, another word you weren’t a fan of) and then this ‘Gaz’ bloke (Who was apparently also a sergeant, but he was the second? So he was lower? Why did they need two? And why was one rank worse than the other? You didn’t know and frankly found it stupid.) There were also these other people; Shadow Company or something, you didn’t really get it because the guy who they most frequently talked to from that company was white as a sheet, but whatever.

Anyways, recently you found out that while wandering wasn’t an issue for you (you weren’t ever bound to a particular area, probably because your body, or whatever remained of it, was far from where you died, and you couldn’t really remember where you were when you died so you weren’t particularly attached) it was very hard for you to follow after the ‘vehicles’ they used. Sometimes they used these wheeled inventions called ‘cars’ (which were kinda like the horses, carts, and carriages of your time but not shitty). They also had these things— called ‘helicopters’ or something similar with a different name (again, you didn't know why they made things so complicated but whatever) that were able to take them anywhere by air. Pretty cool if it weren’t for the fact it made following them anywhere exceptionally difficult. So you had to go about a different method if you wanted to actually follow them anywhere.

Possession. 

Not necessarily like the kind you’d seen in a ghost-related movie you watched over an unwitting couple’s shoulder. It was more so just somewhat attaching yourself to someone, letting part of yourself (probably your soul, if you actually had one) attach to theirs, letting them become a tether into the physical plane. The realm of the living. If you pushed it far you could absolutely do like they do in the movies, but you found that kind of scary since you didn’t know how much of your soul was required for that or if you could be exorcized like in the movies. You really only tethered yourself to someone when you first transitioned into… whatever you were now.

 A wraith, at the time, aggressive and vengeful against the man who accused you, the town that raised you then gazed at you hungrily— blaming you for their sins. Calling you a temptress for the beauty you acquired with your maturation, something you were once proud about turned into something you abhorred.

At one point you even felt festering hatred towards the family that raised you. A mother who birthed you only to denounce birthing you, claiming a devil implanted you as a demon of the night that’d ruin their village and took the milk meant for sons, your elder brothers. A father, one who doted on you before as his precious only daughter and youngest, turning his head; unable to watch as you were tied to the pyre and lit ablaze— a man who was cowardly and evasive. The siblings of yours that you grew with— were close with, were cared for by, were raised by! 

All for them to pretend they had nothing to do with you. Or to join the crowd’s jeering turned cheers as you sobbed, salty tears unable to extinguish the fast-growing embers. Not one of them dared to correct the executioner’s methods. Witches, despite stigma, were usually hung or otherwise given quick deaths prior to the burning; but you… 

Oh, poor, poor you. Things weren’t quite done correctly. You were still alive when they tied you to the post, surrounding you with flammables and letting the flames lick up your body. Catatonic, unable to beg for mercy, for them to kill you properly. Though, even if you were able to speak, you probably wouldn’t beg. You were desperate to survive. When they butchered you like the farm animals you’d skinned many times before with your dear-old-dad. Failed to cut the correct places and left you bleeding, conscious but paralyzed in pain and fear as they dragged your body to a make-shift wooden post in the town center. Never let you burn fully, the triumph leaving their voices when they still saw you, struggling— eyes still moving, hyperventilating as your arms thrashed trying to break the burnt ropes, paralysis spell broken by desperation— still living, still struggling, still surviving.

They didn’t have the courage to finish burning you either.

It'd be a poor choice if you were a witch, since burning was supposed to be done to stop them from cursing people…

Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe you were a witch? Maybe you had somehow sold your soul, and with no soul to give you could enter the afterlife? Maybe that’s why you felt a path of fury when you died? You felt wronged and cursed people for nearly half the first century you found yourself un-living.

Regardless, the cowards backed away from you with wide eyes, and eventually you felt the ropes break, your body barely reacting to what you wanted it to do, stumbling around aimlessly despite your efforts.

All you could do was scramble out the village, betrayed and never wanting to return.

Eventually, you fell to a crawl, dragging yourself through the grass, fingernails caked with a mix of dirt and blood, as if your near-corpse was trying to create a shallow grave every time you scraped them across the ground…

Somehow, you ended up falling into a river. You don’t know if you fell  during your crawls or if someone put you in there, just that it was excruciatingly cold and your lungs, shrunken and shriveled by the heat of your incomplete incineration couldn’t get any air. You tried pulling yourself out but you were too far gone. Even then, ‘til the point your eyes closed you never gave up. Maybe you were so against dying your soul remained, even when your body went.

Honestly, you weren’t ever really sure which of those injuries eventually lead to your drawn-out and overdue death, but you didn’t care. What you did care about, upon re-awakening, was revenge, hearing the blood-curdling screams of those who wronged you, those who feigned ignorance, those who lied, and those who threw you out when false accusations came. You were swift in it, tethering yourself to everyone in town, attaching small pieces of yourself meant for one purpose: tracking.

No matter where they went they were damned, your violent-haze, the cravings for others to bear a fraction of your misfortune. You were like a tsunami, quick to approach with little warning, only the quick recession of water to warn those who’d be affected. (Not that your victims knew what a train was, but it was like the equivalent of seeing a train barreling toward you and being unable to move, only able to process what's about to happen.) And you were even swifter to strike, small misfortunes not enough to quell that furious fire inside you— brighter than those that scalded you. All ended in what you thought were well-deserved deaths.

But, that wasn’t what you’d be using them for. Not today, and hopefully never again.

You decided you’d turn up the heat a bit and have these men notice that they were, in fact, haunted and not just clumsy or forgetful. You had an easier time manipulating things when no-one was around, or when someone was alone. Easy prey for the ghoulish you, even if most of these guys could probably have easily broken you in half when you were still alive. It sounded dumb to give yourself away, since they might try to send you back to the rest you used to crave upon first re-animating, but it was necessary to tether yourself.

So… here you were! Fucking around and moving things, only to be met with just minor annoyance by this guy. ‘Price’, for some unknown reason, just seemed minorly peeved by your interactions, not convinced they were supernatural.

You moved his chair and desk(which was pretty hard with how heavy it was) and this guy just groaned about how his superiors treated his office however they wanted when they needed something.

You sent his papers flying, stacks of paperwork sorted neatly into piles of done and yet-to-be looked at, all flying. You flung the pen he used too, sending a blotch of ink onto the floor with the papers, permanently soaking them. Minor annoyance, didn’t even say anything. Just… grumbled. 

Hell, you toppled over a WHOLE bookshelf, loud thud echoing as it fell to the ground and all its contents scattered. And this guy? Grumbling about how the flooring was uneven!

If you had a physical body, you’d be beating your head against a wall right now. Seriously, it was frustrating!

You guessed you had done something correctly though, as he seemed annoyed enough to leave his office and go for a walk. Throughout said walk you continued throwing items and flying through his body, which usually caused people immense discomfort, sometimes to the point of causing panic attacks or full-on freak-outs. All that? Yeah, met with a “Bit chilly today.” or a “Someone outta close th’ windows.”

You were offended, to say the least.

Now, you were in a common room with several other people, including those guys, Gaz and Soap, who now talked to the Price fella. It was harder to interact with things, especially with so many people in broad daylight, in light in general. But you surprised yourself when your frustrations and slight anger led to the lightbulbs in the room flickering several times before simultaneously combusting into sparks and broken glass, all electronics—mainly the radios strapped to almost every soldier in the room—  with speakers blaring loud static as you flung the nearest object, a bench that you didn't initially notice was bolted to the fucking ground out from it and towards Price, and the other two who surrounded him. 

‘Oops..?’

Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely devoid of anger and wrathful vengeance, but you’d like to think your self-control was a lot better than when you first died. You did have around… well, about 400 other years to learn some self-restraint and become slightly less blood-thirsty?

ANYWAYS; Lucky for you they all managed to dodge that heavy and fast approaching bench! good thing they were all trained soldiers who were always on guard Oh, and even better everyone in the room now looked at the uprooted bench with wide eyes and terrified expressions! So… mission accomplished?

Well, sort of?

“The hell?!” Everyone in the room backed towards whatever wall was nearest to them, behind unmoved furniture, or otherwise tactically covered positions as quick as they could, many (including the poor sod you’d been following and the rest of his team) having their guns ready and aimed at the entrances or near the uprooted bench.

…Yeah, you didn’t really wanna deal with this.

So you floated off, through the walls pretending your problems didn’t exist, as you usually did.

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

 You came across something pretty interesting, that Ghost guy was doing some strange hand gestures to this other masked fella (why was everyone here covered almost head to in something?). For a moment you thought they were trying to summon something before remembering that the military used hand signals and stuff. 

Anyways, you now had a new guy to follow! He looked pretty cool and he had these little things hanging off his helmet that remind you of a bug. Something… was slightly off with this guy though. You could’ve SWORN he was occasionally glancing over at you, or your general area. Ghost, who you couldn’t really tell much expression-wise due to him also wearing a mask, seemed to lift an eyebrow. Or furrow them. You didn’t know, you just saw his forehead area shift a bit under the mask. 

“You 'lright?” He turned and glanced over at you, where his bug-like friend kept glancing. Bug-fella looked over at you for a few more moments before shaking his head and gesturing at Ghost again. Ghost seemingly returns to his resting facial position and glances back towards your general direction, not quite as spot on as his friend was. “Y' just keep looking over there, ‘was wondering why.” 

Ghost loses interest quickly, turning away from where his friend was staring, resuming his silent communication with the still-unnamed lad, hand gestures becoming far too fast for you to even comprehend what they were doing even if you did understand what the gestures meant. After a short while of just floating around and watching them, Ghost gives the shorter man a light bump to the shoulder with his fist (seemingly friendly?) and turns to leave. “See y’ round.” 

It’s just you and Bug-boy now. The room empty, and his eyes (not that you can see them, he’s wearing a helmet and goggles that are practically solid with how heavy the glass is tinted) are aimed directly at you. You float over, hovering a good foot or two off the floor because the ground and gravity were for cowards, and stop a few inches away from him. He reaches a hand up towards you, only for it to quickly phase through your arm, then your torso, then back into the air. He’s startled by the feeling, you can tell, shivering as goosebumps raise on his arm and his hair stands on end, you can tell because of his sleeves being bunched up at his elbows. 

“Sorry.” you say, not even sure if he’d hear you. Maybe this was some weird coincidence and he couldn’t actually see you. Though, to your utter surprise and slight delight he kind of waves it off, making gestures (full body ones this time, not the hand-signals you couldn’t quite understand) that you could interpret as meaning ‘not to worry about it’. Your eyes widened, before breaking into a big grin. “Wait, wait, wait, you can see me? You heard me— can hear me?!” He nods, looking at you, observing, then gesturing with his hands again.

You.. feel a little bad that you don’t understand whatever military signs this must be, tilting your head and frowning. “I… I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t know much about the military signals or whatever you were using. The code signs and words you guys use weren’t around when I lived. Or died.” He seems a little confused, then brings out a rectangle from his pocket— a phone, new invention and quite useful. It lights up as he puts in the code and opens something, pressing at the glass. 

After a moment he turns it towards you. It… takes you a little to adjust to the brightness (and to read the small letters, given your eyesight and low-literacy). “Give me a second, it takes me a minute to read.” In your peripheral he nods, though you don't move your gaze away from the screen.

“That’s fine, not many people know sign language. It’s not a military signal, just a way I communicate since I’m mute.” You read his words aloud, relatively slowly and he nods after you’ve read it; confirming you’ve read it correctly. 

You glance back up at him. “Mute… So you… can’t speak? Right?” Another nod, then he turns the phone back to himself, rapidly pressing the screen and turning it back again. You read again, “What are you? How are you floating, and why’d my hand go through? Why were you watching us?” You hum, floating away from him slightly, sinking slightly to a sitting position, though still remaining affixed in the air and not sitting on an actual chair.

“Well, I’m dead. I guess you could call me a spirit, spectral, a ghost…” you chuckle a bit at the last one. “Well, maybe not that last one, it seems your friend already occupies it.”  You lean forward again, nearly doing a backflip in the air before stopping in a lying position, holding your head in your hands. “I guess me being dead physically but alive… consciously, or spiritually I guess..? Resulted in me being incorporeal, thus not really touchable by people or gravity.” He nods at your words before motioning for you to continue when you pause.

You avert your eyes. “Well, watching people is all I usually can do. Incorporeal and all. I’m not sure how you can see me when I’m not manifested or tethered to you, but it’s nice…” Smiling sheepishly, you can only hope this guy— the only person you’ve actually talked to in a long, long, time— isn’t grimacing under his mask. You hesitate before reaching out towards him, running a finger down his throat in thought, forgetting it'd just phase through. “Maybe it's because you can't speak? It's not a sense but it's like maybe because you don't have one thing your other senses are better? But back to your prior questions. Being dead is… boring. All I can really do is fuck with people and watch stuff. You and your friend, Ghost, and his other… teammates are just what have caught my interest recently.”

He nods and trots over to a nearby bench, you grimace thinking about the mischief you caused slightly earlier by throwing a bench at the captain. Let’s hope your bug-friend doesn’t overhear that and stop talking to you. “What’s your name?” He types, and turns the phone to you, a single word there. “Roach? Like… the bug?” your mouth quirks into a crooked smile and you giggle, flicking the antenna like attachments to his helmet. “Fitting, you got the antennas and everything!” 

Floating down onto the seat, you try your best to sit on it, your bum and thighs slightly phasing through the seat but it's fine. ‘Roach’ begins typing on his phone again, having it set on his thigh so you can watch while he types. It was also probably just in case someone came in or saw him and so he wouldn’t look crazy turning his phone around to nothing (from other people’s perspectives).

“People can’t usually see you?”

You sigh and lean back, accidentally reclining into the wall and to the other side before realizing he probably won’t be able to hear you if you speak. “Oops, I forgot I’d phase through. Uh, yeah they usually can’t unless I’m actively haunting them and choosing to. It takes a lot of energy to do that though, so…” He nods and hovers his fingers over the phone, thinking for a moment.

“What's your name?”

You hum, thinking for a moment. You... haven't had to introduce yourself to anyone in centuries.

"This... well, it's a little embarrassing, but I can't remember."

"Why don't I call you 'Poltergeist' for now then, since Ghost is taken?" You smile at him, your cheeks feel like they've heated up slightly, but not from the lingering burn you got after your death, no, it was the burn of happiness. Giddy from this guy giving you a name, almost like you were a stray. You shouldn't be this happy, clinging to him and internally deeming him your new best friend, but you were.

Your undeath began a new chapter today, now living as 'Poltergeist' (at least until you remembered your name) with your new ghost-inclined friend Roach.

[jacesvelaryons]

ch 1: idyllic

the reluctant empress

jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

previous: prologue

next: updates every friday

summary: Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon is set to meet his intended future bride, yet the first meeting does not go as planned.

rated: pg13 (will go rated R/18+ in later chapters)

word count: 2.3k words

masterlist

“How strange, she thought, to be a part of what would surely become history, and yet still worry that she might trip on her heavy skirt.” ― Allison Pataki, The Accidental Empress

Growing up in the placid, tranquil countryside in the crown lands away from the hustle and bustle of King’s Landing, Y/N had learned to appreciate the simpler things in life. While her mother and sister always wished for finer silks and rarer jewelers, she had her sights on something else.

Despite the blood of Old Valyria running in her veins, she was forbidden from claiming a dragon, and there were no unclaimed dragons that were not guarded voraciously by the dragon keepers in the capital, as Queen Rhaenyra fiercely knew to keep dragons only within her immediate family. Only the main line of Targaryens had right to even claim one.

For now, her beloved stallion will do. There is nothing Y/N loves more than roaming around the streets of her childhood castle, of the quiet yet satisfied populace, a close knit community that did not have much communication beyond trade routes.

Her cream hued dress seemed almost mahogany colored after having been submerged in the dirt and waste, almost unwashed as a pig sty like the servants would lament, but she did not care.

Lying on the grass and feeling the sun kiss her skin as she dazes and enjoys the fine spring weather, her peace and serenity is interrupted when she hears the galloping hooves of a horse she knows is not hers.

“Princess! Your mother, Lady Alicent, commands you to return to the palace at once.” The loyal master of arms of your late father informs you and you groan as you stand up, smoothing the leaves and soot that stick to your hair and clothes.

“Alright Ser Arryk, I shall return immediately.” She climbs on her beloved stallion Majesty, as the knight escorts her back home. As you approach the gates of the brick castle, you see your mother and sister Helaena waiting for her by the cobbled steps.

Her identical auburn hair is in a tight knot on the crown of her head, in contrast to your loose, unruly curls down your back, and you sometimes think you are looking at a mirror of yourself seeing your mother, a preview of how she would appear when she aged. The same auburn hair, yet contrasting spirit.

“Where have you been, Y/N? You should have been studying with your septa.” Alicent coldly inquires, disappointed yet not surprised at her wild youngest.

Looking down apologetically, the young princess gulps as she approaches closer with a palm on the leather reins.

“I- I was studying my High Valyrian and etiquette with Septa Dyanna, and when I was doing well, she let me have a break and I got carried away. I explored the streets of our city, and…I’m sorry mother.”

“This will not be happening again. Get washed up for a bath, your things are packed and we make our way to the capital immediately.”

…

The Prince of Dragonstone wiped his brow as he attended his umpteenth council meeting for the day, having lost track of what needed to be taken care of, whether it was the safety stops in Dragonstone, rising crime in Flea Bottom or trade disputes between merchants in King’s Landing.

As he reviewed the notes he made alongside the commentary of his mother, he sighed as his eyes grew blurry in a daze of exhaustion, head rolling back as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, hoping to feel some bout of wakefulness.

Ever since he was nothing but a babe, Queen Rhaenyra had a great future planned for her eldest the moment he was born, even when she was just Crown Princess herself under her doting, yet absent minded father.

“You will be nothing like your grandsire. I will make sure of it” She whispered to him as she looked down at his sleeping form, wrapped in the finest red and gold cloth.

As he hears the surreptitious footsteps of his stepfather’s boots, Jacaerys stands up straight, arms pinned to his side as Prince Daemon, Prince Consort to the Queen arrives to meet him with an indistinguishable expression.

“Lad, we have delayed and put up with your mother long enough. You can no longer delay your quest of finding a bride, Jacaerys. I have not forgotten the slight you have made in rejecting any issue of marriage and robbing your sister Baela of her birth right to be Queen.” The silver-haired warrior warns his son tiredly, brow creased and the wrinkles on his forehead growing.

Jace viewing his step-sister and aunt only platonically was not helped by how Rhaenyra was indifferent to marrying him back into the Velaryon line, where his younger brother, the future Lord of the Tides Lucerys, was already well married to her sister Lady Rhaena Targaryen for over a year.

“Daemon.” The younger exasperates. “I know you have not forgiven me for my avoidance of the altar, but you must understand my reasons-”

“You risk putting all the work us Targaryens and Velaryons have put to work with your delay! With you, the family line could end and our house will have no future. Reasons? What reasons? Pathetic.”

Where the avoidance of romantic feelings had been an issue of contention to his parents, Baela remained among his greatest confidants, a dear friend who advised him and objectively was a source of feedback when the matters of the state overwhelmed or confused him.

“I will eventually marry! I never said that I would remain unwed, and seriously accept whatever bride mother dangles in my face!” Jace slams the table in frustration, knuckles turning white as his fist curled tighter.

Daemon’s explosion of anger turns contained, restrained in a cold, expressionless gaze, unyielding and on the precipice of surrender.

“I have given up in the hopes of making Baela queen, but you will marry by the end of the year, by hook or crook, Jacaerys. You are as stubborn as your mother!”

…

“Your Grace.” Jacaerys bows as he enters the throne room, still bothered from his confrontation from his step-uncle.

Rhaenyra smiled at the sight of her eldest making his way as she sat on the Iron Throne, her ruby and amethyst crown glimmering from the sunlight trickling in from the stained window. Dressed in ermine and silks, she was dressed according to her rank, her voluptuous form after several childbirths adorned only in lavish fabrics, alongside the rings, bracelets and necklaces around her.

“Jacaerys, I assume you had spoken to your father.” She raises an eyebrow in slight amusement, knowing the reason of his arrival. The issue of paternity has always been a rocky one for him, with rumours of his bastardry because he did not resemble his late father Lord Laenor Velaryon. Prince Daemon Targaryen, his mother’s true love after both were widowed and her uncle, of course, was the only father figure he truly knew for most of his life.

“Yes, my queen. I have come to announce my intent to marry. I am aware you keep a long tally of eligible Valyrian maidens for me to marry to strengthen the purity of our blood and house.”

The Queen beckons him to come closer, as her trusted handmaiden Lady Elinda Massey unleashes a gold binded book in obsidian velvet titled ‘The Most Illustrious Valyrian Families’, compiled by the loyal Maester Gerardys.

“Our first choice for your bride was the Lady Baela Targaryen, your sister and Daemon’s eldest, but I think I have a better match for you. Do you remember Lord Maekar Targaryen and his wife Lady Alicent Hightower?”

“Yes. Lady Hightower was your childhood companion and he sired two daughters with the lady. Princess Helaena who was widowed by a Lord Celtigar, and her youngest daughter Princess Y/N.”

“I seek to finally connect all House Targaryen back to the main line to prevent any Valyrian blood to enter other houses. You should marry the Princess Helaena, widowed with a child, yes, but she is still young and has proven fertility, something we urgently need.”

Jacaerys was taken by surprise, his usually controlled expression unable to be reined back in but he gulped and nodded in acceptance.

“Of course, my queen. I have heard of correspondence that the widowed Lady Hightower and both her daughters are to arrive in the Red Keep. When is their expected arrival?”

“In a fortnight, the Lady Hightower and both Princesses of Dalston Keep shall arrive. The only thing we need left to seal the match and bring assurance and stability for the realm’s future is you formally ask for her hand at the Grand Ball three nights after. You reassure the kingdom that House Targaryen will continue and an heir will come.”

…

Cramped up in a worn down carriage that had been given to her father many decades ago, Y/N did not find it comfortable cramped up in her frilly, bulky black mourning gown.

Still mourning the loss of her mother’s uncle, Lord Hightower and the Voice of Oldtown, Lady Alicent and her daughters remained draped in ebony, black veils and ribbons everywhere. Packed in another carriage following their change of clothes, they would change to less muted colours once they were closer to the capital.

Yet the rocky path and turbulent weather said otherwise, as they could not change in time and had to reroute to make in time to the capital without upsetting the Queen and the royal family.

“Y/N, if you were not so careless and got lost in the wilderness, we could have already been there and spared the poor weather we have here!” Alicent scolded her youngest, sleep deprived with shadows under her large, brown eyes. Her black bereavement gown still had undertones of verdigris green, with subtle jacquard patterns of the tower of Oldtown with its green flame seen only in some lights.

Y/N awkwardly avoided meeting her mother in the eye while Helaena held onto her hand for sympathy and comfort, as the latter shook in agitation at the presentation that would change her fate.

Little Jaehaera was left in the care of septas, considering the distance was not too great from the castle and Alicent assumed she and Y/N would return briefly after Helaena would formally become betrothed to the Prince of Dragonstone.

Caught up on a slight slumber before their arrival at their destination, Y/N slowly opens her eyes as she sees the sunlight between the curtains percolate, as a gloved hand moves it aside, while her mother and sister are already wide awake, freshening themselves up knowing how close they are to making a match that would improve their stations greatly.

The musty aroma and ghastly sights of the streets of King’s Landing coming into view, the pungent waste from Flea Bottom wafting, and the curious, desperate pleas of starving children and peasants begging to their windows of their carriage left a burning mark on Y/N’s impression of the great, big city.

As they make it to the behemoth of architecture that is the Red Keep, the carriage makes a halt as it stops by the pavement, the crier announcing the arrival of Lady Hightower and her two daughters the Lady Targaryens.

Y/N reaches the handle to open the door but the doormen swings open the door before she even touches it, nearly tripping on her feet on the way down but she salvages it awkwardly.

Smoothening the wrinkles and stray taffeta on her gown, she gets off the carriage first, as the younger sister and the one who will not be queen, they save the best for last. Her mother follows gracefully before Lady Helaena arrives, her pale features adorned in her silver-blonde hair braided up the crown of her head and the veil making her appear as pale as a ghost.

Yet where Helaena is washed out and her features are diluted and contrast in mourning clothes, it only brings out the best of Y/N's burgeoning beauty. And the prince does not fail to take notice.

Crown Prince Jacaerys, The Prince of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne awaits gallantly, dressed in his full regalia donned in the most formal of ceremonies of the throne. The abdicated King Viserys is too weak and frail, yet mustered the strength to leave his chambers, guided on a makeshift seat with wooden wheels assisted by a handful of servants to see his beloved grandson’s future bride.

Queen Rhaenyra smiles affectionately as she sees her companion in her youth, embracing Alicent after the latter curtseyed at her. Rubbing her shoulder in condolences for their loss, Lady Alicent gathers a smile that does not meet her eyes.

Dazed and distracted by the wonders of the exterior of the castle, a gentle tap against her ankle reminds Y/N to curtsey before the royal family, not wanting her blunder of etiquette to rob them of Helaena’s match that could change their fortunes overnight.

As Jace moves down the escalade to greet the ladies, he stands in front of Y/N, takes her hand and brushes his lips against her knuckles for a peck. “Lady Helaena-”Murmured whispers and panicked eyes abound the court present at the scenario, where Prince Daemon impatiently corrects his stepson, murmurs under his breath.

“That is Lady Y/N, the younger sister, my prince.”

Without missing a beat, Jacaerys nods with an apologetic grin, flashing his charm to make people forget his blunder, before he greets her mother and then his intended betrothed. Like clockwork, he whips out a compliment that all were so beautiful and the Lady Alicent was still so youthful you would think they were all sisters.

Helaena, already skittish and shaken by social events, greets the prince in a rehearsed speel and bow, nails digging into the beds of her calluses until they turned bloody. She, who painstakingly attended each lesson expected for a future queen, in the eyes of the court.

Although expected to marry Helaena, Prince Jacaerys held his breath upon his first impression of Lady Y/N instead. Taken by her wild, independent streak and glaring beauty that was highlighted in their obsidian gowns, he knew he would choose his own destiny.

…

I hope you guys liked it! The story has finally started and drama is just about to start <3 Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. Updates will be every Friday night PST time.

[sagesskies]

ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ I

✒ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴍ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴄᴜᴏᴜꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ), ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴀᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ

You always loved a good romance. 

Sure, it was looked down upon for a man such as yourself to be reading a novel instead of a thesis, or helping your family manage the estate, but you never cared. Your siblings all begged you to do your job as the first born, and take charge, especially now with your parents growing old, but again, you never cared. 

Currently, the book you were reading was one with a most interesting premise. A young noblewoman is mugged by a dashing thief, and instead of punishing him, orders for him to be made her guard. Between the two, a beautiful romance blossoms. And to think their first meeting the thief thought to steal from her. 

You chuckle, “The only thing he managed to steal from her was her heart,” 

Before you could turn to another page, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps marching to your room. 

You sigh, it’s probably one of your siblings. What would they complain about now? Perhaps your laziness, perhaps your waste of intelligence, maybe this time they’ll complain about your lack of a wife. 

When the footsteps stop outside your door, you brace yourself for whatever nonsense they’ll be bringing to you today.

“I cannot believe this- [Name], have you heard?” Your brother burst into your room, looking dishevelled, and clutching a piece of parchment tightly. 

You set down your novel, “Heard what exactly?” 

James slams the piece of paper down on your table, “Your loverboy,” He sits down on the leather armchair across from you, “He’s back in town, and he’s apparently come to ask for your hand in marriage!” 

You blink, not many things can render you speechless, but this is certainly not what you expected to hear today. 

What did James mean, your loverboy? No matter how good your looks are, and no matter how many people you’ve slept with in the court, you don’t have a loverboy. Hell, you’ve made sure that none of your family ever found out about your various affairs.

“What, who-” You shake your head, “James, what exactly are you on about?” 

James simply taps the paper, “Just read it, [Name].” 

Sighing, you pick the letter up and do as you're told. 

 —

To my dearest, [Name]

Good day to you, my love. I am writing this to inform you of my return to the estate. I apologize for my sudden departure all those years ago, I assure you that I will never leave you again.

You may be wondering where I’ve been all this time. Well, I anticipate that you’ll be pleased to learn that I’ve been studying under the esteemed lawyer Maxwell Yates, you may remember him from multiple cases such as that of Nathan Lynch, Carol Wolf, and Jonah Hewitt. According to him I am the best student he’s ever had. 

But enough about me, I’ve heard you are still yet to wed. Though it is no good for a man such as yourself to remain a bachelor, especially at your age, I cannot express to you enough my happiness that you’ve remembered our promise and saved yourself for me. 

Despite the distance these past years, I promise to you I have not strayed away from you. You are the only one who understands me, who accepts me, and sees me for who I am, my dearest [Name]. You are the only one for me, and that will never change. 

We may still be separated for now, but I promise you, we will not be apart for long my love.

Best regards, your future husband,

Glenn Alston

—

You set the paper down, and you bury your face in your hands. 

You can hear the pity in James’ voice without even looking at him, “I know that you and Glenn were close, and had a special relationship, but you cannot marry him-” 

You raise a single hand, and he stops speaking. You sigh, and sit up straight, “I won’t marry him, James,” You smirk when James looks visibly relieved, “Same sex marriage may be legalized, but I won’t dishonor the family name by engaging in sodomy.” 

James groans, “You know that’s not why we’re against it,” Your family may have high standards for you and never failed to express their disappointment, but they weren’t narrowminded, god imagine how horrible they’d be if they were. 

You chuckle, “Yeah yeah, he’s still the gardener’s son even if he’s some sort of bigshot lawyer now.” 

"And you won't authorize his entry into the estate, right?"

That makes you wonder if you should. Regardless of how you feel, Glenn's father would still like to see him again, even if the man ran away. And Glenn would be a useful asset to the estate, considering how your other lawyer was already getting old.

You shrug in response, "Probably not." You say that to only appease your younger brother, who'd surely throw a fit if you said otherwise.

James nods, clearly satisfied, “Well then, I’ll be going now,” He glares at the romance novel, “And please stop reading that senseless drivel, [Name].” 

You roll your eyes, and ignore his protests as you push him towards the door, “This ‘senseless drivel’, is what your fiance reads in her pastime,” You raise a brow at him, “I’m sure you don’t want her to hear what you said about her hobby.” 

James sputters and tries to find the right words for a decent comeback, but clenches his fists and huffs in frustration, “Fine! Keep reading then,” He turns to leave, but then stops, and turns his head to look at you, “Wait, what did Glenn mean by you remembering your promise?” 

“Aaaaand that’s my cue to close the door,” You grin at him, though it’s strained, “This was fun, bye bye Jamie!” 

“I told you to stop calling me that-” The door closes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

Your gaze settles back on the piece of parchment. You walk over to it, and pick the letter up. 

“When did his penmanship get so neat…” You can’t help but feel a twinge of envy, writing was never your strong suit. Well, you never really had a strong suit. No matter how hard you tried, your performance would be mediocre at best. No amount of sucking up from your instructors would change that. 

Despite the bitterness you feel, your eyes soften as you trace Glenn’s elegant strokes. Your mind can’t help but wander to when he first asked you to teach him how to write… 

—

Rarely did you ever willingly go to the library, much to your parent’s chagrin. The entire atmosphere was so stuffy, and you hated how quiet it was. It felt dead, and the old lady who worked as the librarian didn’t help. You swear, one day she’ll fall off the stepladder and her ghost is going to haunt the library for eternity. 

Today was a special occasion however, it was Glenn’s twelfth birthday, and because you forgot to get him a gift he got to request something from you. He didn’t tell you exactly what he wanted, all he told you was to meet him at the library. 

You sigh as you walk inside, ignoring the librarian’s glare when you don’t bother to minimise the sound of your footsteps. 

Sometimes you wished Glenn could be a normal kid, and ask for something like a sword, or a new kite, or something else dumb kids liked to play with.  But then again, if he was anything normal then you wouldn’t like him very much. 

The library was a large room, with various shelves all arranged according to genre, like an actual public library. Your mother told you there were many ancient books and tomes within the shelves, all brought here by your ancestors. You tuned out most of what she said if you were being honest, the only other thing you remembered her saying about it was that there was a book that could make a mini explosion happen. 

You wandered through the room, looking for Glenn. It didn’t take you long to find him, the dark-haired boy was carrying a stack of books in his arms and set it down on one of the tables. You waved over to Glenn, and sat beside him. 

“Why are-” Before you could finish your sentence, Glenn, very rudely, placed a finger to your lips and his hazel eyes hardened into a glare. 

“Lower your voice, [Name]!” He whispered, “We’re in the library.” 

You glared back at him, and licked his finger. Glenn yelped, and immediately pulled back quickly, nearly toppling out of his chair. The noise he created earned him a stern: “Shhhh!” from the librarian. 

Glenn pouted, his cheeks flushed and his ears red. You smirked. It was so easy to fluster him. 

“Anyways, before you oh-so rudely interrupted me,” You spoke softer now, “Why are we here?” 

Glenn was still clutching the finger you licked, and he avoided your gaze, and muttered something under his breath. 

You rolled your eyes, “Geez man, I only licked your finger.” He was acting like you bit him instead, or something else weird. Sighing, you grabbed his chin and turned his face towards you, “Seriously, speak up.” 

Glenn gently pulled away, having learned his lesson now, and then cleared his throat, “I, uh… I wanted to ask…” He took in a deep breath, “Couldyouteachmehowtowrite?” 

“Uh, what?” 

Glenn sighed, “Could you teach me how to write?” 

“Oh,” You blinked, and then furrowed your brow, “That’s it?” You expected him to ask you to read him some big boring book about history or something, this was way more manageable. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to keep asking you to read for me anymore,” He pushed a pad of paper towards you, and handed you a pencil, “It’s embarrassing.” 

That was true, at his age usually he should be the one reading to others, but people from Glenn’s social class never learned how to read unless they were being sponsored by a noble family. But Glenn never seemed to mind before, what changed? 

“Did Emil tease you again?” Emil was the asshole son of the captain of the guard, your presence always warded him off from picking on Glenn, but you couldn’t always be there for him. 

When Glenn didn’t respond, you sighed. Glenn had some weird complex about being seen as capable and dependable in your eyes, but you could care less about whether or not he could handle himself. Unfortunately, you were never the best at expressing your emotions. 

“Emil’s a little prick,” You ignored Glenn’s soft gasp, and started to write the alphabet on the pad of paper, “Guys like him are everywhere, Glenn. Stop caring about what he’s saying, his words don’t matter.”

Glenn muttered, “But they still hurt.” 

Glenn, for how much he tried to look tough, was always so sensitive to what others thought about him. It was another way you two were so different from each other, he could never stop caring, while you just didn’t. 

You set the pen down after finishing the letter z, “Yeah, that’s because you let them.” You glanced at Glenn, since he was shorter than you, all you could see was the top of his dark hair. You wondered what the expression on his face looked like.

Glenn remained silent, and so you sighed, “Anyways…” You handed the pencil to Glenn, “Copy this.” 

When Glenn finished, you took a piece of empty paper from the pad, and handed it to Glenn, “Now do it again, this time without the reference.” 

You weren’t a good student, in fact you were a terrible one. You never did your homework, you barely showed up to class, and whenever you did you never paid attention. Glenn was unfortunate to be stuck with such a lousy person for a teacher.

When Glenn handed the paper back to you, you hummed, “Well, it could be worse.” That was being generous. Glenn managed to remember A, B, and C, but completely skipped D and E, somehow messed up G, and seemed to have merged I and L. However, it was… okay. Considering how this was his first attempt. 

Glenn frowned, “It’s terrible isn’t it?” 

You ruffled his hair, “It’s not bad for a first try man, hand me the pencil,” You take it from his outstretched hand, “So, this is not how you write G, this is how you actually do it..” 

You and Glenn stayed in that library till it was five pm, and you were both being shooed out of the library by the old hag, and then separated when Curtis took you to get ready for supper. 

Perhaps you weren’t such a lousy teacher after all when Glenn was able to write properly only three weeks later. You still remember his smile when you read the letter he wrote to you for your birthday, and you still remember the immeasurable feeling of pride you had for him. 

You can still remember the letter he left for you, the day he disappeared. The warm, wet tears that fell onto the parchment, as you struggled to read through Glenn’s handwriting. The emptiness in your chest, like Glenn ripped your heart out and took it with him when he left. 

—

How things have changed. 

You wonder who taught him to write cursive, was it Maxwell Yates? A fellow student? Perhaps it was a young woman, who fell in love with him like you did, and wanted to have his heart like he had stolen hers. 

You let out a shaky breath, and place the letter in the same drawer as the other one. When you open the drawer, and see the weathered parchment, the tear stains, and the childlike scrawl, you feel your chest clench. 

“You’re over this, [Name],” You remind yourself, “You’re over him.” 

You fold the paper, and set it down with more care than you should’ve given. You close the drawer, and lock it. 

You look at your novel, and realise that you’re not really in the mood for romance anymore. You pick it up, and set it back on the shelf. 

[jurakan]

I got a weird prompting to ask for a fun fact about someone who came up with a whole system of writing and then just disappeared. Odd, I know.

Well, you came to the right place, friendo! Today You Learned about Sequoyah.

[I had hoped to do this around Thanksgiving, or for Indigenous Peoples Month, but no one asked for it then so better late than never!]

Okay, maybe you have heard of the man. But if not, here ya go: Sequoyah was a Cherokee man born in Tennessee around the year 1770. When he grew up, his day job was actually being a silversmith, trading with trappers and merchants that came through Cherokee territory. He was pretty darn good at it too, and signed off on all of his work.

Something he noticed, though, was that the Europeans who went through had a written language, and that it was helpful for recording information and talking to people far away. That’s handy, Sequoyah thought. We should have our own written language. Because at that point, Cherokee didn’t have a written language. So, apparently, this man decided to just… make one up.

I say “make one up” as if he came up with it on the spot without thought. No, that’s not what happened. In 1809, Sequoyah began to study English, Greek, and Hebrew, and developed a written system for the Cherokee language. Each symbol represents a syllable, rather than a letter like in the English writing system, leading to a total of over 80 symbols for the alphabet.

Everyone thought he was crazy, but I want to be clear: he did it. This man, a silversmith by trade, created a written language system that within twenty years of its creation became the official written language of the Cherokee Nation. 

That’s insane, guys! Where is this guy’s biopic? If you lived in a place with heavy Cherokee history, like the Carolinas, chances are you’ve heard of him–the NC Museum has a small exhibit on him in their section on Cherokee history, and we covered him in school in an article/essay/non-fiction story (I don’t know what we call those things) called “Sequoyah and the Riddle of the Talking Leaves”, but it’s nuts to me that he’s not a more famous figure in American history, considering this.

Sequoyah actually taught the language to his daughter Ayokeh first, so that he could prove that it worked and made sense. Then he spent a ton of time traveling through Cherokee territory to get people to see its usefulness and learn it. Apparently, it worked.

So the US government thought this was awesome and gave Sequoyah a mansion to live in, right? [/sarcasm] No, you can probably guess from the timeline what happened. He went to Washington D.C. to protest and argue with other Native American leaders against the Indian Removal laws the government was enacting, but wasn’t successful, leading to the Trail of Tears. His interactions with other nations led him to decide to try to create another system of writing for all indigenous Americans to use. I don’t think it ever got completed, but someone with more knowledge on the subject can probably tell you more.

He died in Mexico, on an expedition based on the rumor that some Cherokee had gone there–the reunification of the Cherokee people was a big deal to him, after all.

We think he died there, anyway.

See, we don’t actually know where his body is. Officially, he died in 1845 of a lung infection; we don’t know where his body is. The Cherokee funded an expedition to find his grave in the 20th century, but while they found a grave in Coahuila, Mexico, they aren’t sure if it’s his. In 2011, a newspaper argued that actually he wasn’t buried, his skeleton was found in 1903 in a cave in Oklahoma. 

I found this out by seeing that he’s listed on Wikipedia’s “List of People Who Disappeared” (which I do not recommend reading if you are sitting alone in a house at night).

Well, he’s still an important national figure. He’s got some recognition–his statue is in the US Capitol, he’s got a sculpture in front of the Cherokee Museum in North Carolina, and! Along with several figures from world cultures credited with inventing/teaching writing, he’s on the doors of the John Adams Building of the Library of Congress.

YMMV may vary on whether or not it’s good that he’s on there with a bunch of mythological figures.