#idk. they go to a brothel together

[nenestansunsthings]

having svsss au ideas beyond my station

thinking. shang qinghua goes on a mission as a young disciple to some town in fuckoff nowhere and finds himself in the qiu household. and there he finds a young shen jiu, undergoing the plot he originally intended for him and hadn't realised had become real and he's so young oh god hes so young why is he so small what do you mean that part was real, he hadn't kept it why is it real—

and he panics and sneaks him the Fuck out of that house

and he's not sure what to do but surely sending him to cang qiong will fuck up something in the plot and he can't come under even more investigation and cang qiong tryouts dont happen for months anyway and his system would probably never allow it (it doesnt. it would interfere with yue qingyuans story) but shen jiu is refusing to stay anywhere near this place and wants to learn cultivating to protect himself make sure nothing like this ever happens again and sqh panics harder and

calls mobei jun.

okay. on second thought, maybe this was a bad idea. but he stumbles over himself and shushes baby shen jiu's very understandable freaking out and asks his king for the first thing hes ever asked for other than his own life.

is there any way this human child could learn cultivation in the demon world?

[fluoneia]

sypnosis. continuation of pitfighter!vi. vi’s drink at the rink is spiked with something she’d never experienced before. she goes back to the brothel in the hopes of finding you.

warnings. smut (17+), aphrodisiacs, switch (mostly sub)!vi, kind of period sex? idk. no major part of it, lowkey angsty at the end

a/n. oh my gahhh guys u don’t understand how happy i am to get requests you guys r so sweet please leave more !! and GUYSSS i LIVE for sub!vi i’m so happy for this request

arcane masterlist ✯

vi never thought she’d get herself so deep into this. into you. she went to babette’s in the first place for a quick release, yet, she found herself enveloped in you. obsessed with you. every thought was about you, about how you made her feel.

but tonight, she had the overwhelming urge to see you. to devour you..

or maybe, for you to devour her?

vi didn’t care. so long as she could return to the feeling you gave her a week ago.

“babette.” vi would husk as she falls into the brothel, catching herself on the desk. “where is she?”

“who, darling?” babette’s eyebrows furrow.

“her. dammit.” vi pushed off the desk, stalking down the hallway. she ripped each and every curtain open, looking for your face, for you. she didn’t care seeing the other girls breasts, she didn’t care seeing the cocks and the horrified faces as she glanced in every room looking for you.

she didn’t understand why. she’d never felt this much desire for a person, but yet, here she was. she wanted you, wanted that feeling she had.

her mind fogs as it fills with images from the week before. she remembered your sweet whispers, the feeling of your hands on her body, violating her, pleasuring her in a way she had never been pleasured before.

vi would never consider herself a bottom. but right now, she didn’t care for titles. she just wanted you.

but, when she doesn’t find you in any of the rooms, her heart yearns. she storms back to the front-desk.

“where the fuck is she?!” vi nearly damn whines. she didn’t understand why she was so desperate.

“violet. who are you talking about?”

“the girl! last week, i was here, and there was a new girl here. where is she?”

“oh, you mean.. y/n?” babette chuckles. “oh, you’re not the first one back for seconds, honey. it seems she made an impression on you.”

vi feels a rush of anger. she knew this is what you did for work, yet, she couldn’t help the raw anger in her heart as she thought of someone else with you, taking those sweet gasps, your moans and words that haunted her thoughts.

vi wanted to be the only one doing that to you. making you writhe, cry. she wanted you to be the only one that did that to her.

“she went home. you can always come back next week.”

“next week?” vi’s breath hitches in her throat.

“she took the week off. you know how this job is, it can be draining.”

and it feels like vi’s breath can’t keep up with herself. she glanced back down the hallway, before snapping her head back to babette.

“where does she live?”

“i’m afraid i can’t give you that information.”

“dammit, babette!” vi slams her fist against the desk. why was she trying so hard? why was she so desperate?

she stills as she hears footsteps behind her. delicate, soft.

“it’s you.” you whisper behind her, and oh, your sweet, sweet voice nearly makes her legs give out.

it’s like everything clicks back together in her head. every nerve comes alive, sending cold shivers down her body, when she hears your voice.

“y/n, honey, what are you doing back?” babette asks you.

“oh, i just came to drop a few things off.” you shrug. your heart beats faster as you feel vi’s eyes on you. you were used to clients coming back, but she was different. she wasn’t like the other clients, vi was.. something else.

you spare a glance at her, and you gasp at her dishevelled state. vi suddenly remembered she never even asked for your name. now, she knew it.

“so, i’d.. id better get going.” you clear your throat, turning on your heel.

“wait—“ vi grabs your wrist, but you pull away. she walked behind you. “wait, wait, just—“

“i’m afraid i can’t be of service to you.” you shake your head, finally stopping. “one of the other girls can take you.”

“i don’t want the other girls.” vi exasperates, “shit— i want you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat.

truth is, you couldn’t be of service to her. you were on your period, which is why you were given the week off.

you turn to look at her. she’s heaving, moving closer to you. you see her lips are chapped from the air, and this time her face was clean from the face paint she had on last time.

“violet, i..”

as soon as you said her name, it’s like anything vi had left of any sort of will is gone. she grabs onto you, pressing you back, your back hitting the wall with a thud.

she’s panting. her hot breath hits your lips.

“you need to help me.” vi whispers as she cranes her neck, pressing her face against your neck, breathing in your scent like it was all the oxygen she needed.

“what’s up with you?” your brows furrowed, hands releasing to grab her face and pull her back. now closer, you can see her pupils are blown out.

and suddenly, you remembered rumours of a new drug going out, mostly for couples. because it was an aphrodisiac, and a strong one at that.

“you.. you take drugs?” you narrow your eyes, avoiding her gaze. you never pegged her as the type, but remembering she was a pitfighter, it wasn’t exactly frowned upon in that business.

“what?” vi’s eyes flicker. “no, fuck no, i don’t. i just drink.”

then, you think for a second. you gasp when you realize.

“you got laced.” you peer back up at her. “there’s a new drug— blossom. it’s an aphrodisiac, vi. but.. it’s not specific to make you want certain people, just.. sex. you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

“i don’t care for other people.” she huffs. “fuck, i— i just want you.”

you frown. “that’s just the drugs talking.”

“it’s not the drug.” you feel her nose press again your neck, her breath, her scent. and your mind is brought back to one week ago, when you had the night of your fucking life. you’ve never had better sex.

you suddenly remember her pretty little moans, her body, rough and scarred, but still so beautiful. you never expected for her to be submissive, but that night proved everything you thought to be wrong.

and it turned you on even more that you could have the best of both worlds with vi.

you could have a dominant, rough, teasing girl to give you pleasure. but, she could also submit to you on the snap of your finger, especially now.

all your needs are met with vi. so, why do you want to push her away so badly? fear? fear that this could just as easily turn into something more, and jeopardize your job?

fuck it. what’s one night?

“wha— what is that?” vi says so sweetly, so innocently. you brought her back to your house, and now, she was under your will just as easily as you could get a glass of water.

you eyes scan over her body. bloody, bruised, scarred. her budding breasts, the trail of hair just above where you’ve been purposefully avoiding.

you hum as you run your fingers over the marks on her neck, her breasts. her hands have been glued to you all night, trying to pry every last bit of clothing on your body, to consume you whole, to have nothing but your skin against hers, like how it should be. how it should always be.

“what, you’ve never seen one before?” you glance toward her as you raise the silicone cock toward her.

“i— i’ve.. heard of them.” vi swallows as her eyes follow it.

“think you can handle it?” you jest, leaning back so you could loom over her. you hold the straps over you torso, tightening it around your hips.

her eyes are trained on the harness. it stirs a weird feeling inside of her— she’d never been attracted to men, nor wanted anything to do with their dumb cocks. yet, when she sees you, with that pink dildo that reminds her of her old hair, she wants nothing but for it to be inside of her, deflowering her, taking every last bit of dignity she thought she had.

with you, it all goes away. she didn’t care anymore. she just wanted you.

vi’s hands find your bare back, pulling you against her, lips only inches away from yours. her hands roam your soft skin, clutching onto your stomach, wanting to fuse her body with yours.

“i don’t care if i can handle it.” she muttered, pupils nearly taking over her whole eyes. “give it to me. give it all to me.”

you hum as you press your lips against the corner of her mouth. she gasps, before letting a loud whine from her throat.

“kiss me.” she grasps your face, “dammit, kiss me.”

“isn’t that too.. intimate?”

vi groans in annoyance as she tightens her grip on your face, lips crashing against yours in a fiery, passionate movement.

and you realize, vi didn’t want just regular old sex. she didn’t want to be treated like a whore, like a client. she wanted passion; she wanted you to make love to her.

and you shake the thoughts way with the thought— it’s just the aphrodisiac.

slowly, you let yourself melt against her, melt against her lips. her tongue grazes your lip, just barely, and you take that as permission to let your tongue slip against hers, dancing in a passionate movement for dominance. vi’s hands tighten on your body, grasp at the plush of your thighs, so soft, so delicate.

and she thinks, just maybe, she’s slowly starting to get a grasp on herself again. she remembered— she should be the one in control.

but, then.. the thoughts fade away as soon as they come.

she gasped as you take hold of the silicone dildo, moving to press it against her slick, coating the tip of it in the warmth.

you hum as her will instantly diminishes, vi’s chest heaving at the reminder that right now, she was under your will. under your control.

you pull away from her lips to mutter, “sure you can handle this?”

“i’m fucking sure.” vi grunts, hands gripping your cheeks harder, pulling your lips against hers again. and she thinks, your lips were so soft. scarily soft. dangerously soft in a way that she was scared she’d never be able to leave you— the feeling of your lips, your hands, ever again.

and when your hands press against her stomach, softly grazing against the bruise beneath her rib, she grimaces in pain. but.. she found it even more dangerous that she didn’t want to shy away from the pain, from your hands. instead, she relished in it, and it only aroused her more.

vi’s mind goes into an instant fog as you slowly press the silicone inside her, entering her with a soft pop!

and she cries out in both pain and immeasurable pleasure. her hands roam into your hair, tightening against it as she tries to alleviate the raw pain of the stretch.

you frown as you realize you probably should have chosen a smaller one, considering it was her first time.

but, you grin again as you see vi’s spine arching up, toward you, pushing the dildo in more.

and vi swore she saw white.

“shh, shh..” you whisper, breath trickling down her neck. “you can take it.”

“oh, fuck!” vi’s eyes close as her face tightens fully.

“relax.” you hum against the shell of her ear, hand grazing over her stomach, up, and up and up, rubbing against her breasts. “can’t do anything when you’re so damn tight, vi.” you giggle into her ear. “eyes on me. come on.”

you tap just underneath her eye, against the tattoo on her cheek you could now see without the face paint. it was of her name. a little egotistical, much?

she opens her eyes with a damn whimper, and you swore it was the most sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“that’s it.” you glance at her. the way you were looking at her, so primal, so full of lust, vi swore she could melt into a puddle in her spot. she was so far gone now, she knew that there was no going back.

her eyes train on you, not daring to look away. she finds herself lost in your eyes, and you in hers, so blue, so soft. she was submitting to you with her very own eyes, and you knew that, even without looking at her body yearning for you.

you take the chance at her body relaxing to push your hips forward, relaxing yourself into her until your hips touched hers, your bodies fusing together.

her mouth gapes, her eyes rolling back. oh, she was so far into this hole now.

your hands grab her calves, pressing her back, nearly pushing her down so far her knees could touch her ears with one movement.

and oh, the stretch, so painful, filling her, pressing so deep inside of her unlike anything she’s ever felt.

vi’s hands race to cover her face, a whine escaping her throat as she panted, feeling so, so full.

“what’s wrong, hm? feel too good?” you jest as you lean closer.

vi says nothing. you test the waters by using the new position to press deeper, angling your hips to hit the spot you knew always worked.

in both men and women, there’s always a soft spot that will make them bleed in submission, that will let you fully take control of their head. that’s what you did best.

vi cried out. she knew that damn spot, of course she did, but she never imagined it would be used against her, that someone would hit that spot, and hit it so fucking good.

“thi—! this position..” she mewled, “ts’ too embarrassing.”

and you fucking laugh. “you’ll learn soon that nothing is embarrassing when you’re with me.

“you’ll learn to forget yourself in these moments.” you tease your tongue against her jaw, hands moving to her thighs, pushing her down deeper. “embarrassment doesn’t exist with me. you’ll see.”

as if to solidify your words, you gently pull your hips back, till the dildo was about halfway out, then you slam your hips back against hers. vi cried out, voice cracking at the sudden movement.

“this okay?” you’d whisper against her skin.

vi’s heart nearly melts. even in this moment, so crude to put her in such a lude position, you’re still so damn sweet to her, just like last week.

but, vi can’t respond. she can’t form words. she didn’t remember how, or when she forgot how to speak until the words catch into her throat.

slowly, her eyes open and she nods her head. it was more then okay, it was the best damn thing she’d felt in her entire life.

“i need words, vi.”

“y.. ye—s! it’s okay.” vi sputters, face rushing full of blood, blushing so cutely. you chuckle.

“good.” you smile against her pulse, pressing a soft kiss there. then, you rock your hips back, just barely, before thrusting your hips back in.

you continue at the slow, teasing, torturing and mean pace. you feel vi’s legs shiver against you, her head pushing back into the pillow.

you feel a sound in her throat, against your lips, and she pushes her body closer to yours.

her entire body shakes with each thrust, each push back inside of her, so deep, pressing just barely over that spot each time.

and she realized, she wanted you to be rougher. she wanted you to act like how she treats other girls she sleeps with, how she treated you that one night. maybe that was all she wanted all along— projecting the way she treated the girls because she wanted someone to do that to her.

she didn’t know that until you, you, you, came into her life.

every thought was you. every, single, thought. mind a total haze, she forgets herself. she doesn’t care to be quiet anymore, she doesn’t care to try and stay reserved. she wanted you to do whatever you wanted to her.

and she’d probably let you.. if you weren’t treating her like a damned delicate doll.

“g..” she starts, a wonton moan escaping her lips. “faster.”

“oh?” you grin. “you ready now, huh? all stretched out?”

“ye— ugh! yes, i’m—‘i’m ready.” she grasps onto the sheet beneath her.

“hm, you sure?”

“yes, i’m fucking sure!”

“you’d better watch your mouth, vi. or this is just gonna go slower.” you move to meet her gaze, nose pressing against hers. “got that?”

vi looks like a puppy who’s being teased a treat, being made to do tricks. soft little gasps, soft sounds leave her as she clutched the sheet harder. she swallows, before slowly nodding.

“good.” you say as you nip at her nose, before adjusting your hold on her thighs, propping yourself up.

you tilt back to spit on her already sopping folds, and she bites her lip at the lude gesture.

you slowly, oh so slowly, pull your hips back till just the tip is left inside of her.

then, you ram your hips back against her, so roughly it makes the bed shake.

a loud noise leaves vi. she grips so hard on the sheets she pulled the fitted sheet off the bed, but not paying it no mind. all she cared about right now was getting more of this feeling, more of you.

“fuck!” vi cried out.

you chuckle. then, you begin at a steady, harder, faster pace. your hand lets go of her thigh, letting it drop down on the side of the bed, hand moving to graze over her face.

your hands push her hair back out of her face, clutching it so tightly. vi heaved at the feeling, mouth agape as you press your hips faster, harder, so harsh against that spot she felt like she was going insane.

then, you let go of her hair. and you brush your fingers over her lips, prying them open, pressing your fingers against her tongue.

“wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear, would you?” you had no neighbours. but, vi didn’t know that. “wouldn’t want them to know i’m fucking you so good like this, hm?”

vi doesn’t respond. her eyes are fully gone, concentrated on you, and you feel a soft gag against your finger.

she doesn’t think as she lets her teeth clamp against your fingers, biting so hard because she can’t handle the pleasure, so hard it drew blood.

and the taste of your blood enough was to send her over the edge.

you feel the vibration of her voice against your fingers, her entire body erupting into a shaking mess.

“oh!” your eyes gleam as you glance down, slowing your thrusts, relishing in the glance of the pink dildo slowly staining white.

and your heart leaps as you see her hips pulling away. oh, how hilarious.

“you had me in the same position before.” you husk, “and you didn’t give me mercy. so greedy, aren’t you, vi?”

you let your fingers slip out of her mouth so she can speak.

“god, oh my god!” she gasped, entire body collapsing against your bed. “i-i fuck, god..” her hips drag away from you, stomach jolting from your touch against her stomach.

“so.. wouldn’t it only be fair to give you the same treatment? punish you?”

vi shakes her head violently.

“no, no!”

you still as you see the tear on her cheek.

“no more. no more.” she pants, eyes slowly opening to glance up to you.

you let your eyes close with a sigh.

“oh well. another night.” you snort as you slowly pull the dildo out of her, letting it hang, and resting it on her thigh. “let me clean you up. that sound good, hm?”

vi stares at the ceiling with no response. you snort, before pulling yourself away, hucking the strap off to some random place. vi suddenly looks to you, before roughly grabbing your wrist.

“don’t go. please.” she whispers.

you stiffen at her words. slowly, you relax. and you obey her wishes.

“alright. i won’t.”

vi’s hands travel down your body, hooking around your waist and pulling you against her chest.

even after what you thought was probably the orgasm of vi’s life, she was still a fighter after all, and she was strong.

you let yourself melt against her. her hands graze over your back, body still shaking as she reminisced in the feeling of her high.

“that.. that was a one time thing.” vi suddenly says. she swallowed. “it was just an aphrodisiac. i am not a bottom.”

you pick your head up off her chest, narrowing your eyes at her. she quickly adverts her gaze, biting her tongue, a harsh blushing finding her cheeks. you snort.

“keep telling yourself that, vi. that’s what every stubborn top says after they’ve seen me.”

she makes a tch sound. “whatever. bunch of wimps.”

you giggle.

it was probably around two hours later, and you hadn’t moved from where you two both were. your hands played with her hair.

and you realize, this was the first time you ever stayed with a client after their appointment. and it continued to dawn on you that this probably wasn’t what a client and a businesswoman’s relationship should be like.

“hey, y/n?” vi rasps, her voice laced with tiredness and sleep. “i.. i have to talk to you about something.”

you still. was she.. going to say something bad? good? proclaim love? you’d been in that rodeo before— let’s say, it was the main reason you had left your old brothel in piltover.

you glance toward her.

“yeah?”

“i won’t be coming back.” she stares at the wall as she says this.

you snort. “that’s what they all say—“

“no, i mean.. i mean, there’s someone.” she sighs. you still your hands.

she props herself up. you pull away from her chest to sit up straight.

“someone as in.. someone you love?”

vi glances toward you.

“no. i.. i don’t know.” she shakes her head, avoiding her gaze. “not exactly.”

you say nothing.

“do you want to know the reason i got into pit fighting?” vi stares down at her hands, “well.. a lot of shit has happened in my life. it feels like.. like i’ve never got a chance to take a breath of air before another thing was thrown at me.”

she inhaled. “i.. i was in stillwater prison for four years. got thrown in when i was probably.. sixteen?” she shakes her head.

“so.. you escaped? or something?”

“no. no, uh..” she grimaces, like it pains her to talk about it. “the girl. the.. someone, i guess. she got me released to help her with this stupid investigation. an enforcer.” she chuckled. “stupid girl.”

“we.. she was my first kiss. my first, i guess.. crush, if that isn’t too kiddish. i thought everything would go great after that. then.. shit happened. and, she left.”

your brows furrow. she left? just like that, and she deserves to hold vi’s heart?

“but.. i guess i came to the realization that i couldn’t stay away from her.”

vi’s face tightened as she thought. caitlyn should have been the one she was thinking of while under the effects of that blossom drug. but, she wasn’t. it was you. and that weirded her out. confused her.

“can’t just let all that go to waste, you know?” vi ignored her thoughts. “so, i’m gonna find her. even if.. even if she’s gotten over me. there’s always friends, right?”

you purse your lips. then, you stand. you grab a robe from a hanger and tie it around your body.

“you shouldn’t let your first love plague yourself forever, vi.” you say tightly. “you may never be able to let it go. trying to fix something that’s already broken won’t go as you expect.”

vi says nothing.

“take it from me. i thought i’d loved someone before. but.. it was bad for me. it tried to salvage any relationship i got into because i didn’t want to accept change, that people i thought i’d loved wouldn’t change, would remain in the same spot forever. but, that’s life. people change, for the worst, for the better.. it’s human nature.”

then, i chuckle. “i’m not about to give you a lecture. i’m not your mother. but, just.. think about that before you drop everything for a girl who may have already moved on from you.”

“don’t revolve your life depending on other people’s love. especially if they abandoned you after taking your first kiss.”

“no, caitlyn, she’s.. she’s different. she was grieving. it was my fault—“

“no need to start placing blame on yourself. you can’t control a feeling like love.”

you step toward her.

“cherish that. cherish the way you love. i may not know you, but.. i can tell you have a good heart. if this caitlyn girl is truly who you love, then let it happen.”

“your mind is still young. emotions is all you have.”

you tap her forehead.

“so go.”

vi’s forehead creases as she thinks.

“but.. vi?” you slant your head. you lean back toward her, pressing yourself closer so your noses touched. you brush a hand over her face.

“i know you won’t be able to resist me for long. you’ll be back.”

vi’s eyes are trained on you. her breath picks up, before she suddenly stands, scrambling away from you.

“uh! i, um, i have to go now.” vi swallows, rapidly picking up her clothes and putting them on.

you giggle as you let yourself fall into your pillows.

“see you, then, violet. i hope our time was good for you.”

she spares you one last look, and you swore you’d never forget the gleam in her eyes, the red on her neck and on her cheeks. so adorable.

she stalks toward the door, moving for the handle. then, she stills. she takes a deep breath.

“y/n?” she says softly. “if i.. if i ever do come back. just know, it’s my turn to use that thing on you.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat at that damn smirk.

without another word, she opens the door and slams it closed behind her.

you blink.

“damn, that girl gives me whiplash.”

a/n. said i wasn’t going to continue it, but here we are. um, expect a part three. probably. maybe. 🤗 idk still deciding

for @nobodyknowsimalesbian777 , hope my sub version of vi was to ur liking 😭 sorry it went a little off track of the request i got lost in it

find more about my taglist here.

[maldaptivedreamer]

Lonely Souls - Arcane

One lonely soul comforts another for a night.

content: Vi x reader, errors/mistakes, pit fighter Vi, alcoholism to cope, drunk Vi, vulnerable Vi, injured Vi, name calling, no sex but intimacy, reader bathes Vi, brief aggression from man at beginning, angst/comfort i think

wc: ~3.5k

a/n: Sooo, this is my first Arcane fic, but insanely excited. Don't know if this good but I have more I'm workin on. Can't believe arcane's over and idk wth I'm sposed to do now.

MINORS DNI NSFW 18+

Main Masterlist

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you massage your temple with two fingers, trying to ease the building headache.

“You frigid whore! Think you’re too good for me!?! For my money!?!” The man struggles helplessly in the unmoving arms of Wik. Wik grunts, his expression unreadable as he gazes at you.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you dismiss Wik with a wave of your hand. He silently turns and disappears, the beaded curtains rattling together behind him. The man’s hysterical screaming rings in your ears.

Sinking back into the plush cushions of the couch, you sigh and shut your eyes.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor interrupts your attempt to ease the strain in your eyes.

You frown and slowly raise your head to face her. With a raised eyebrow, you wait.

Babbette's large, crimson eyes are narrowed in concern. She takes a step toward you, lifting a slim hand. Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly lift your arm into her grip. Her long nails dig into your skin as she inspects the deep scratches marring its surface.

Her eyes darken briefly before she releases your arm, allowing you to pull it back. With a dry tone, you speak. “I’m fine… Guess, I should stick to my regulars, huh?”

Babbette doesn't entertain your joke. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, studying you carefully for a long moment before finally speaking up. “Any chance you wanna tell me why you’re here? You don’t have any clients today…” You ignore the knowing tone of her voice.

Maintaining steady eye contact, you shrug stoically. “No.”

Babbette gives you a meaingful look but nods in understanding, silently waving her cigarette at you as she turns to leave. "Go home. Don't come back unless you have a client," she warns you before disappearing between the beaded curtains.

You watch her leave, the clicking of her heels fading. The silence that follows is deafening, the sounds of the brothel beyond your room feeling far and distant.

Sighing deeply, you rub a harsh hand over your face. The adrenaline from the earlier altercation is wearing off, leaving you feeling drained and hollow.

You know why you're here. But admitting it, even to yourself, feels like a step you're not ready to take. It's easier to lose yourself in the brothel, in the false intimacy and fleeting connections. Anything to avoid facing the emptiness that awaits you at home.

Slowly, you rise from the cushions, your body protesting with every movement. The scratches on your arm burn as you reach for your coat.

Gritting your teeth, you step out into the grimy street. The smell of vomit and stale beer invades your nostrils and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. The pounding behind your eyes intensifies, throbbing in sync with the pulsing of neon lights.

With a huff, you wrap your coat tighter around your body. 

As you continue walking, the crowd thins and the darkness grows deeper. You feel a sense of relief at the quiet, your headache slowly easing.

Your home. Small. Dingy. But it's yours. 

You can feel the tension in your body simultaneously ease and worsen with each step you take. Swallowing hard, you try to push down the growing sense of loneliness in your stomach and the conflicting need to be alone.

The feeling of another person is overwhelming. It burns your skin. Makes you want to peel it back and run… But it can be freeing. Touching someone else, caring for someone else and tending to their needs brings you a deep sense of contentment. You crave, yearn for it, that connection with someone. A connection that you’ll never have.

That sense of loss is overwhelming and you feel a gasp bubbling in your throat. Stumbling into a wall as you choke on your breath, you allow the cool brick to ground you. Closing your eyes, you run a hand over the rough texture of brick. 

A sudden crash and slurred cursing from a nearby alley startles you. The tightness in your chest eases, replaced by a rush of adrenaline as your instincts kick in. As you cautiously approach the noise, your hand slips into the pocket of your skirt.

But as you round the corner, your posture relaxes and your hand falls limp at your side. You recognize the figure- drunk, off balance and stumbling, but familiar. 

Vi. Your heart clenches at the sight of her, drunk and alone.

She’s become one of your regulars. A client, the only client, that makes your job not feel like one. You’ve developed a certain… fondness for her. One you shouldn’t have. One that could get you into trouble… like today.

It's impossible to deny the growing affection you have for her. After all, the loneliness in her eyes is one you know intimately- in every lingering touch, every desperate grip on your skin, every breath consumed.

"Vi?" you call softly, stepping into the alley.

She twists, nearly losing her balance as she faces you. Her clouded blue eyes struggle to find you in the dim light and she squints as she tries to place you. Recognition dawns slowly.

“Princess, watchu doin’ here?” Her slurred words muddle together and you sigh, taking in her disheveled appearance. You can make out a fresh bruise on her cheekbone.

"I could ask you the same thing." Your reply is soft and you take careful steps closer, your heels echoing in the narrow alley. "You okay?"

Vi snorts. "’M doin’ jus’ peachy, princess." Her shoe catches on a pile of garbage and she stumbles.

You quickly step forward, your hands instinctively reaching out to steady her before she falls. As soon as your hands meet her skin, she collapses into you, her head burying itself in the crook of your neck. You grunt as she leans into you, your knees almost buckling beneath you. You can smell the cheap liquor on her breath, mixed with the scent of sweat and blood on her skin.

The smell of alcohol intensifies as she mumbles against your skin, her words barely decipherable. "'M tired, princess… So fuckin' tired."

Furrowing your brow with concern, you hold her close to you, supporting her weight as she leans on you. "Let's get you home." Your voice is tender. "Where are you staying, gorgeous?" You hate seeing her like this. You’ve only ever seen her hurting. You desperately wish you could take away all of her pain, all of her hurt.

She doesn't answer and you gently nudge her, coaxing her eyes to meet yours. Seeing that you have her attention, you repeat your question. “Vi, where’s your home?”

She shrugs and tightens her arm around you. With a vague wave of her hand, she responds, nearly losing her balance. "Dunno. Don't matter."

Your heart clenches at the lost look in her eyes. You know you shouldn't, but… "My place isn't far."

Vi's unfocused gaze finds yours, a flicker of surprise crossing her powder blue eyes before they darken in defense. Her voice is gruff and the clearest it’s been. “You don’t have to.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness in your chest. "I know I don't have to. I want to."

Vi stares at you for a long moment, her brows downturned in a frown.

With a nonchalant shrug of your shoulder, you attempt to give her an unconcerned glance. “You’ve got two options, gorgeous. A mediocre, semi-warm, semi-soft bed. Or a shitty alley.”

After a moment of contemplation, she nods and leans more of her weight against you. "Lead the way, princess."

The walk to your apartment is slow and unsteady. Vi stumbles more than once, and you have to pause frequently to readjust your grip on her. By the time you reach your door, you're both breathing heavily.

You fumble with your keys, struggling to keep Vi upright with one arm while unlocking the door with the other. Finally, you manage to get inside, kicking the door shut behind you.

Darkness greets you as you stagger into your apartment, wincing when your toe painfully collides with a sharp corner.

Vi chuckles at your soft curse, her breath hot against your neck. "Smooth, princess."

With groping hands, you search for the light switch amidst the darkness and roll your eyes. "Yeah and you’re just the epitome of smooth right now, gorgeous."

With gentle yet confident steps, you guide her further into your apartment. You can't help but feel a little self-conscious about the mess of your home, but you try to push those thoughts aside as you focus on helping Vi.

Entering your bedroom, she suddenly tenses up, her muscles tightening beneath your hands. "Wait," she slurs, trying to pull away. "I can't... I don't have any money on me."

A lump forms in your throat at her words. "Hey, no," you say softly yet firmly, facing her with empathy in your eyes. "This isn't about money, Vi. I'm just trying to help you."

She blinks at you, confusion clear in her bleary eyes. "But… why?"

Swallowing back your own emotions, you choose to ignore her question.

Vi grunts as you guide her to your small bed, her weight nearly pulling you both down. You manage to lower her onto the mattress, where she immediately flops onto her back with a groan.

"Shit, princess," she slurs, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Your place is nicer than mine."

You snort softly, moving to remove her boots. "Doubt that. It's a shithole, but it's home."

Vi props herself up on her elbows, watching you with glossy eyes and she repeats her question. "Why're you doin' this?" she asks, her voice small and uncertain.

You pause, looking up at her. Your throat tightens as you find yourself unable to look away at the raw vulnerability in her stare. "I… maybe I see a little bit of myself in you… and I- I care about you, Vi." You admit hoarsely, the words heavy with truth and emotion. You swallow hard, knowing that you are treading dangerous waters with your confession. Your voice comes out in a low whisper, almost apologetically. "Maybe more than I should."

She stares at you, her brow creasing in confusion and uncertainty. But before she can respond, you quickly rise to your feet, needing to create distance between you both. “The water is lukewarm at best, but there’s a shower through the door.” You offer awkwardly, gesturing towards the bathroom with a trembling hand. You try to compose yourself by smoothing down the wrinkles in your dress.

Turning to leave, you wince at the sound of your own footsteps echoing in the quiet room. Hesitating at the door, you spin back to face her with a soft look, hoping she can see the sincerity in your eyes. “Do- do you think that you’ll need help?” Your words hang heavy in the air.

The brothel was a world of its own, where the air was thick with desire and the walls were lined with secrets. While there was a slight sense of yearning with each lingering caress, every gentle brush of the other’s lips, this is different. This is far more vulnerable and intimate than lust. This would mean more.

You both know that this will change everything.

Vi's eyes soften, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. She swallows hard, her throat bobbing. "I... yeah. I think so." She admits, her voice rough.

You silently nod as you try to process the weight of the trust she's placing in you.

With careful tenderness, you help Vi to her feet and guide her towards the small bathroom. Her eyes remain downcast, refusing to meet yours.

Placing her on the toilet seat, you turn to the bathtub. The sound of rushing water fills the cramped space, bouncing off the tiled walls. Guiding Vi out of her jacket, her muscles tense under your touch but she doesn't pull away. You can see the pain etched on her face as she struggles to hide it.

Taking a deep breath, you fight to keep your expression neutral. Her delicate skin is marred with bruises - some still angry and inflamed, others fading into sickly greens and yellows. Small cuts line her arms, their edges crusted over with dried blood.

Setting aside her jacket, you carefully begin to unroll the bandages on her arms. Each strip reveals more damaged skin underneath. Your heart aches as you run your hands over the tender areas, trying to soothe away some of the hurt. Vi's eyes flutter closed, her tense body slowly relaxing under your gentle touch.

Moving on to the next arm, you continue to remove the bandages with careful precision.

As you step away from her, Vi's hand darts out to grab yours in a desperate hold. Meeting her gaze with a reassuring look, you press your lips to her bruised knuckles before gently laying her hand on her lap. Patting it softly, you slowly move towards the tub and turn off the water.

Licking your dry lips, you lower to your knees. Inhaling, your fingers hover over the bandages on her chest. Despite Vi's nod of approval, your fingers still hesitate as they reach for the bandages. She nods again and raises her arms with a wince.You peel away the gauze slowly.. Each layer falls away, exposing more of her skin. You keep your movements clinical, professional.

Not glancing at her chest, you watch her blue eyes. Searching for any sign of uncomfortability or hesitation.

Giving her a soft smile, you shove the bandages in a small pile and raise your hands to her pants. Your soft voice pierces the peaceful atmosphere. “Think you can help me out?”

Nodding, she grunts with effort as she rises from the toilet. Rising, you help her undo her pants and she steadies herself on your shoulders.

Stepping out her pants, she watches you glance at her from beneath your lashes. Vi feels a discomforting warmth at your care, your softness. Licking her dry lips, her voice comes out raspy in vulnerability that she tries to hide. “If I was sober, princess, I'd be taking you apart right now."

You send her a kind but perceptive look."I know, gorgeous." You murmur, helping her step into the tub. "Let's focus on taking care of you first."

Vi hisses as she sinks into the warm water, her muscles tensing before slowly relaxing. You grab a washcloth and begin to gently clean her wounds, careful not to aggravate the wounds that litter her skin. The washcloth quickly dirties and you grab another.

You bring the fresh cloth to her face and begin to wipe her face free of black grease. Vi watches you with heavy-lidded eyes. "I’m sorry." she slurs, her voice thick with exhaustion and lingering alcohol.

You pause, the washcloth hovering over the VI on her cheek, and meet her guilty eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for Vi. Not to me."

She shakes her head, as she pulls away from your touch. Drawing her knees to her chest, she wraps her arms around them and turns to face the wall. "I-” Vi chokes out, but stops as sobs wrack through her body.

You can feel tears cloud your eyes and you envelop her in your arms. She quickly shoves her face into your neck and pulls you to her desperately. 

You ignore the material of your shirt sticking to your skin, the smell of sweat and alcohol that still lingers on her skin. Ignore the rim of the tub as it digs into your hips. Ignore the way her nails claw into your skin in anguish.

You hold Vi as she cries, her body shaking with each sob. Your fingers thread through her damp black hair, gently massaging her scalp in an attempt to soothe her. The water sloshes around her as she trembles, but you pay it no mind, focused solely on comforting the broken woman in your arms.

"Shh, I've got you, Vi. You're safe." You murmur softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I’m here."

Her sobs gradually subside, replaced by shaky breaths and occasional hiccups. She doesn't move from your embrace, her face still buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel her eyelashes flutter against your skin as she blinks away the last of her tears.

"I'm a mess." Vi’s voice is hoarse and muffled against your skin.

You release an understanding breath and speak dryly. “I don’t know anyone who isn’t, gorgeous.”

You part from her and cup her face gently, your thumb tracing the tattoo on her cheek. “Think you can stand, gorgeous.” You nudge your head at the darkened water. “Your skin’s gettin’ wrinkly and I think you need to rinse off again.”

Vi nods weakly, her eyes still red-rimmed and puffy. You help her to her feet, steadying her as she sways slightly. 

The water drains away, grime and blood swirling down. You turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature before guiding Vi under the spray.

You step into the shower and let her lean on you as you run your lathered hands across her skin. Vi stands still, allowing you to care for her.

You can feel how exhausted she is as she presses into you. Her hands loosely wrapped around your hips.

Humming, you tap her back and tenderly remove her face from your neck. Her long lashes brush her cheeks as she closes her eyes. Your soft fingers rub any remnants of grime and makeup from her face.

Vi leans into your touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as you scrub the soap through her hair. She releases a hushed breath as your fingers comb over her head, savoring the feeling of your hands massaging gentle circles on her scalp. The warm water cascades over both of you, steam rising around your bodies. 

"Feels nice." She murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of running water.

Your lips twitch into a small smile as you continue your ministrations. "Good. You deserve to feel nice, Vi."

Her eyes flutter open at that, meeting yours with a mixture of vulnerability and uncertainty. You hold her gaze, your fingers still working through her hair.

"Do I?" she asks, her voice small and hesitant.

Your heart clenches at the doubt in her voice. "You do.” Smoothing your hands across her face, you push her head back and rinse her hair. “Wash yourself and then we’ll be all done, gorgeous.”

Vi nods slowly, her movements still unsteady as she begins to wash her intimate areas. You keep a supportive hand on her waist, ready to catch her if she stumbles. As she finishes, you turn off the water and reach for a towel.

Wrapping the towel around her, you help Vi step out of the shower. Exhaustion is evident in every line of her body and you dry her to the best of your ability. Your clothes and hair leave a trail of water as you guide her back to the bedroom, sitting her on the edge of the bed.

"Wait here," you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll get you something to wear."

You rummage through your drawers, pulling out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts. When you turn back, Vi is slumped forward, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow.

Touching her shoulder, you gather the shirt in your arms and stretch the collar over her head. Vi lazily helps you put her arms through the shirt and you bend to drag the shorts up her legs.

Vi's eyelids flutter, her gaze unfocused as you finish dressing her. She mumbles something incoherent, her head lolling forward. You catch her gently, easing her back onto the bed.

"Easy there, gorgeous," you murmur, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead.

You maneuver her under the covers, tucking them around her body. Vi burrows into the pillow, her eyes already closed. You stand there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over you.

Sighing softly, you turn to leave, but a hand shoots out from under the covers, grasping weakly at your wrist.

"Stay," Vi mumbles, her eyes cracking open just enough to meet yours. "Please."

Your heart stutters in your chest. You know you shouldn't. But the vulnerability in her gaze, the need in her voice, makes your resolve crumble.

"Okay." You whisper back. "Just let me change and I’ll be right-”

Her blue eyes shoot open and her grip grows tighter. “Please don’t leave.”

You waver and lick your lips in resignation, nodding. Gently untangling her grip on your hand, she watches you go to your dresser and pull out another pair of clothes.

She calms as you quickly change and climb into bed behind her.

Vi immediately turns and burrows into your chest, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You can feel her breath hot against your collarbone, her body trembling slightly.

"I've got you. I’m here," you murmur, running your fingers through her damp hair.

She nods against your chest. You can feel the tension slowly leaving her body as you continue to stroke her hair, humming softly under your breath.

The room falls silent save for the sound of your quiet humming and Vi's steadying breaths.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Kinktober Special Part 2

Mo’s Kinktober Special

The Crew’s Whore (Part 2) (+18)

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your power fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy. 

Pairing: Franky x afab!reader

WC: 3100 I'm so sorry

TW: IS THIS A SAFE SPACE?!?! Banging a robot, alcohol consumption oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, crying, forced orgasm? face shot, heavy use of pet names, cringe, his body is a sex toy idk, cringe, so much cringe, please forgive me I love him, idc

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Robo-boning uder the cut:

Chapter 2: The Cyborg

It was a breezy evening aboard the Sunny as you sipped from your wine glass while leaning forward against the railing of the deck. Sanji had once again prepared the crew a fantastic meal and you felt full and comfortable with the cool sea wind blowing through your hair. It was late, most of the crew had returned to their quarters. Zoro was up in his crows nest dojo having a late night workout, Franky had returned to his workshop to fiddle with some new cannon technology, Luffy was in a food coma and snoring loudly laid up against the mast, and even Sanji had finished dishes with Robin’s help and excused himself to bed. Robin was always so helpful with the dishes with her Devil Fruit powers and all. 

You were alone out here with only the sounds of the waves crashing against the hull and your captain’s aggressive snoring. You thought about how you missed your old life, but also how happy you were with the Straw Hats. You loved your job at the brothel and it certainly was less dangerous… but this new life? It was… exhilarating. You loved it. 

*I think I need something stronger* you thought to yourself…

You looked at your empty wine glass and walked into the galley for something more exciting. It was spotlessly clean and empty. You opened up the liquor cabinet and perused your options. Vodka, tequila, gin, rum.. hmm… 

*It’s a pirate’s life for me, I guess.* You giggled and grabbed the bottle of spiced rum off the shelf. You realized that taking it straight from the bottle was a little barbaric for a late night solo cocktail and went to the fridge for a mixer. Orange juice, mineral water, nothing suitable to mix with rum. You wracked your brain, what would go well with rum?  A lightbulb went off in your brain, there’s an obvious choice. Cola! 

Rum and cola went together like peanut butter and jelly, like pancakes and syrup, like tea and honey. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a tasty drink… You knew there wasn’t any cola in the kitchen, but you knew exactly where it was. You filled a glass from the cabinet with ice and held it in one hand and the bottle of rum in the other. You pushed past the swinging galley door towards the hallway that went to the center of the ship. You skipped down a flight of stairs until you reached a wooden door marked with blue cartoonish stars. Blue lettering adorned the top of the doorway reading ‘Franky House.’ 

*So nostalgic of him* you chuckled to yourself before knocking twice. 

“What’s up?” You hear Franky’s booming voice from the other side of the door. You opened the door and sidled in with your glass and bottle in hand. 

“Oh heyyy pretty thing, what are you doing up at this hour?” Franky turned on his stool next to his workbench to look at you. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You smiled at him as you strode confidently towards the fridge you spotted in the corner of his room. “Fancied myself a rum and cola, figured you’d be the guy to call about finding a bottle of cola around here.” 

“Yeah babe! Mi cola es su cola!” He flashed you a winning smile before he turned back towards his work bench and continued fiddling with whatever gadget he was working on before your intrusion. You grabbed a bottle of brown syrupy liquid from the fridge and brought it over to him. You said nothing, just pointed the head of the bottle in his direction. He barely looked up as he reached his large hard out and popped the cap off of the bottle for you. You smiled. 

“Thanks, handsome.” 

You returned to the desk in the middle of the room where you had set your rum and glass, setting the cola down. You picked up the rum and poured a GENEROUS amount over the ice. You topped it off with the freshly popped cola and brought the glass to your lips. Holy shit you over did it with the rum but damn, that’s good. You took a few more sips and let out a big sigh. 

“Rough day, sweet cheeks?” Franky laughed after hearing your exasperated sigh. 

“Hmm.. I guess. Just feeling a bit nostalgic is all.”

Franky’s hands continued to manipulate the mechanical item on his work bench.

“Yeah I get it. It happened to all of us, ya have this whole life and then all of a sudden you’re a pirate. It’s super weird. You’ll get used to it, y/n, we all do. We can talk about it, if ya like.” He doesn’t turn around. He had always been so good at expressing his emotions, such a tender and kind soul. He knew how you felt, and wanted you to feel heard. 

*Such a sweet heart for a robot* you thought to yourself. But he wasn’t a robot, he was still a man. Sure, his body was more metal than flesh at this point, but it didn’t take away from what a gentle spirit he had. You started to wonder what other human instincts he had left… 

“Honestly Frank? I’m kind of trying not to think about it. What are you working on?” You walk over to his work bench and lean up next to him, against the table backwards, able to see the item on the table but facing his body. 

“Oh this? Nothing totally crazy, just something I was thinking about for my forearm cannon. You see this part here…” He was excitedly telling you about his work, clearly passionate about his science. You nod and give him “hmm”’s here and there. You pour another strong drink and bring it back over to Franky’s work bench. You set the glass in front of him.

“I can’t be the only one indulging tonight, right?” You say seductively as you slide the glass towards his massive chest. 

“Well little lady, I’m usually a cola purist, but I guess one drink won’t hurt.” Franky grabs the glass in his large hand and slams the drink in one gulp. He hisses out, not prepared for how strong you made the cocktail. 

“My god girl, you’re trying to get me drunk?!”

You laugh out loud and pour yourself another drink. 

“No no, just trying to get more comfortable!” You laugh again. “Now tell me more about this hydraulic, fusion combustion, thingy again…” 

You say this as you set yourself down on Franky’s wide lap, drink in hand. 

“Okay so if you can see this piece right here…” Franky continued explaining his latest project to you as you became distracted by his handsome features. He had a strong, chilled jaw, defined abs, incredible thighs and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to his swim briefs. Was it still real? Did he have anything or was he like a doll?

You let your thoughts get the better of you and you set your glass down on the workbench. You slid to your knees in between Franky’s spread legs and let your head rest on his thigh. 

“WoAAhhh sweet thing, something else on your mind?” He dropped what he was working on and lifted his sunglasses onto his head as he looked down at you. He leaned back. You giggled up at him while stroking his crotch slowly. 

“mmmm yes. How could I not wonder? I’ve thought about it so much. Never had someone like you before…” You drew your face closer to the growing bulge in his swim briefs as you palm him. 

“Are you sure? How much do you want it? It might be too much for ya, doll face…” Franky puts his large palm on the side of your face, seemingly a bit concerned. 

“I want it. I can take it, please show me.” Your fingers worked at the hem of his tight black speedo before he helped you bring it down to his ankles. You pull them all the way off and return to your kneeled position between his legs. 

“Wow…” 

His cock was so gorgeous. It had to be real. It was so long, thinner than you’d like, but the length was truly impressive. The base was decorated with tufts of blue hair. 

“Is this good for ya, babe? Tell me what ya like and I can make it happen." Franky stroked your hair as you were staring at his cock from between his knees. 

“What?” You didn’t know what he was talking about. Was he that confident in his sexual abilities? You felt your cunt clench in anticipation. 

“No, this," He nods his head down at his erect cock. "I can make it anything you want. Too big?” You stared up at him with wide eyes. 

“Want bigger? Maybe you’re a little size queen?” Franky smirked at you with those last words. 

“No no,” You stuttered out. “Could you… could you maybe make it a little… thicker?” You were so embarrassed, you felt so silly asking for this man to change up his own cock for you. 

“Of course doll, if you want to be stretched out real good, who am I to deny you?” Franky smiled as he pressed his metal nose. 

You stared at his erect penis as it became girthier right before your eyes. 

“No way…” You gasped quietly to yourself. 

“Yes way baby! You really thought I would rebuild my own body and not give myself an incredible dick?” He grinned down at you between his legs. “Now… where were we?”

You felt his hand gently push the back of your head towards his newly engorged cock. You were snapped out of your stupor and grabbed the thick length with both hands and began to pump it slowly. 

“Perfect….” Franky cooed at you as you stroked him. 

You leaned forward and took his tip into your mouth. He groaned loudly. You knew he would be loud, he always is, why would now be any different?

You gradually took more and more of his cock into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down. With each pull backwards you slurped and dragged your tongue across the bulbous head of his dick. 

“Fuck, shit, just like that…” He tried so hard not to ram his hips into your face, knowing it would scare you off. His body was too strong. 

“Shit baby… You’re way too good at this… get up here and let me stuff you.” 

Once again your pussy squeezed around nothing, pushing out a drip of your arousal. Franky leaned down and grabbed your hips to pull you upward. 

In a moment you were on your back on Franky’s workbench, his projects swept to the the floor with one brush of his huge forearm. He was man handling your body to pull all your clothes off of you. You lay back down on the table, now fully bare in front of him.

“Franky, fuck me. Please. I want it.” 

He hovered over you, massive body eclipsing yours. 

“And you’re sure? I told you it might be too much… Once I start… well it can just be a lot for someone who isn't used to it.” Franky asked you for the last time, making sure you knew what you were getting into. 

“Yes, Frank. I’m so sure.” 

He pushed you down forcefully, but you protested by rising to your elbows and catching his lips in a wet kiss. He accepted your kiss and forced his tongue past your spit covered lips. You groaned at his dominance, such a change from how you were used to being with your other lovers. 

After making out for several moments, you whined a bit too loudly when he pinched at your nipple. 

“Okay okay needy girl, I’ll give you what you want now. But don’t say I didn’t warn you…” 

He pushes your thighs up with one hand as he lines his perfect cock up with your sopping hole with the other. He squeezes himself in slowly. 

“Holy FUCK, my GOD Franky…!” You shout out as he sinks balls deep inside of you, having you in a mating press with one hand due to his large stature. 

“Oh pretty lady, we haven’t even started.” He begin to pull out and shove himself back into your cunt, slick coating his cock more and more with each thrust. You slammed your eyes shut in pleasure, his dick was hitting all the perfect spots inside of you almost like it was made perfectly to fit your body… oh wait… it was. 

All of a sudden you felt a new sensation along with his heft length splitting you open. Was he… vibrating? Your neck snapped up and your eyes shot open to meet his above you. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. Had to add something for the ladies pleasure, right?”

“FRANKY!” Your body lurched forward and grabbed his biceps. You had never felt anything like this before. It’s like your body was lit up by electricity. The smooth drag of his vibrating cock against your g-spot was complete sensory overload. 

Franky chuckled. He continued railing into your tiny body, chasing his own pleasure, not worried that you’d reach yours. 

“Frank I’m going to-!” You yelped as your body tumbled over the edge in pleasure. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your spasming cunt pushed out your release all over your lovers abdomen and legs.

“Wow doll face, I never thought you’d be a squirter!” Franky laughed over you as he drilled his hips into yours further, not concerned about your recovery from your intense orgasm. Your body was limp in his hold now, not able to produce any sort of coherent phrase. 

“Franky wait, I feel like-Ah!“ 

You were cumming again. It was only a few moments after your last orgasm and your center was  squeezing and creaming on Franky’s thick robotic cock again. You had lost full control over your body, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced. You screamed. You had no idea what words you were trying to scream, but you screamed. 

“You like that, huh baby? How about one more for me? I think you can do it, right?” Tears streamed down your face as you laid on his workbench, boneless. Your cunt was throbbing in both pain and pleasure. You were being thrust into so forcefully that your body slid back and forth on the table, your breasts basically hitting you in the chin as they bounced so aggressively. 

“Mmmm.. Hmm. FUCK! Yes I can do it, I can take it!” You felt drunk on pleasure, barely able to keep your eyes focused. The sensations in your pussy were unlike anything you’d ever experienced. As your cyborg lover pounded into you at an impossible speed, you felt the familiar wave of pressure bubble up from your center, but this time far more intense than the others. 

“There it is baby, I can feel it, I knew you could do it for me sweet thing.” He coaxed you into tipping over the edge. Your back arched and you shrieked up at him. You vision went completely white for a moment as you felt your massive release splattering against Franky’s thighs and cock. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room as you felt your cunt start to tingle with numbness and overstimulation, 

“Can’t… it’s too much!”  You whine loudly at him as you make a feeble attempt to push at his abs, not entirely sure what you wanted yet. 

“That’s just fine doll face, I’ve got something else in mind anyway.” He flashes you a huge grin before grabbing you around your ribs and setting you down on your knees on the floor in front of him.

“Open wide, pretty lady!” He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail with one hand and stroked his massive cock in front of your face with the other. 

Obviously after 3 earth-shattering orgasms you were putty in his large hands. You stick your tongue out and look up at him. After seeing the makeup smeared on your face from spit and sweat and tears, there was no way he could hold back any longer. 

“Fuuuuuuuck…!” He groaned out as he painted your eager, wrecked face with simply so much cum. It dripped off your cheeks and your chin as you happily kept your mouth open for him. He finally finishes his release and taps his cock on your tongue, so you can taste the last bit. 

“Shit you look so super like this!” Franky beamed down at you covered in his thick cum. You grin back up at him, delirious from exhaustion, cum dribbling down your neck. “But I guess I can’t leave ya like that huh?” He grabbed a clean rag from a drawer in his workbench and started wiping his seed off your face, you were so exhausted your eyes fell closed and you held your head in his free hand. 

“Hold on hold on doll, I’m almost done then I’ll put ya to bed.” Franky finished cleaning your face and picked up up off your knees and set you down on his bed. He tucked you in and went to put back on the little clothing he had on in the first place. He moved towards the door of his room. 

“Well thanks for the break, little lady! I have a repair I need to finish up on the deck tonight, but you get some rest.” Franky says from over his shoulder on the way out to the rest of the ship. You close your eyes and relax your bruised and exhausted body into Franky’s mattress. 

"Hey, if you’re feeling up to it when I get back, we can have a round 2! You haven’t even seen half the super stuff I can do, I just went easy on you!” He shouted as he left the room with his toolbox and the door closed behind him. 

Your eyes snapped open.

“WHAT?!”

---

a/n I again, am so sorry lol but Franky needs more love. Justice for Franky Fuckers.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Within cells, interlinked (Miguel O’Hara x Ai/Hologram! Fem! reader) Part 1

Hiii! Very excited about this bad boy, this is inspired by K and Joi’s relationship in bladerunner 2049, and this panel from 90’s run of the Spider-Man 2099 comics. Also there is some heavily implied (at the very least one sided) holofang (Miguel x Lyla) at the beginning, if that isn’t your cup of tea, then I’m sorry but that’s how I wrote it. Not proofread, enjoy!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Implied (one sided???) holofang, Lyla is like basically dead, mentions of sex work, cursing, Miguel being a sad lonely lonely man, ansty (if you squint), Miguel being a little mad scientist like at the end. Tbh idk really know what to tag these as.

Word count: 3k

Part 2

Masterlist

Playlist I listened to while writing

—

Neuva York 2099.

A dystopian wasteland that was once a pristine and other worldly city. But, like every other beautiful thing, it would be destined to fall, thanks to Kingpin, who now had the city under his thumb. Straile white buildings that once stood tall, crumpled and decayed, being replaced slowly but surely with dark titanium steel. Holographic projections filled the sides of ugly skyscrapers, advertising anything and everything, ranging from restaurants and video games to Ai women and cyborg upgrades.

Miguel’s original Ai assignment was unfortunately no longer functional, her software having been corrupted due to a virus that was released onto Miguel’s suit during a fight with Doc ock, Miguel having no other choice but to terminate her software, putting her out of her misery. It not only set Miguel back from his usual tasks as Spider-Man and his work at Alchemax, but the whole spider society, Lyla being the one who controlled the whole mainstream to the entire operation, along with help from Spider-Byte, but she couldn’t run the whole society technology wise, she had a life outside of her role there.

If Miguel had the time, he would have done what he had done the first time, and redesign her from scratch, raising her from her nonexistent grave. However, he knew he didn’t have the time. He had spent months programming her, not to mention the years it took for him to upgrade her into what she had become. It’s only been a week, and he could already see the cracks that were forming without her to hold it all together. His universe was already in disarray, he didn’t need another thing to crumble into dust in his hands.

The walk from the Alchemax back to his apartment was meant to help him clear his head, but it only dampened his mood more, bitter cold air and large dark clouds rolling in slowly, threatening to pour down on the decile city. Keeping his head held high and eyes forward despite his desire to go deep into a dark alleyway and swing the rest of the way home, keeping the tension in his temples build up with every sleazy salesperson attempting to sell him a sketchily low price for random gadgets that he was certain was stolen, or sex workers attempting to coax him into a small brothel. All kinds of lives walked past him as he ventured home, humans, cyborgs, full robots and AI holographic companions, a million life stories that could be told.

Less and less began to cross his path as he neared his apartment building, eye bags dark and sunken in as he turned his head to the left, he was now alone on the sidewalk, stopping as he put his hand on the railing that lined the evaluated walkway, he remembered not even 10 years ago, that very spot would look out to a beautiful pond, small ducks that pattered around, families gathering around to have little outings, ones that Miguel only ever really dreamed of. Now, all that was a ginormous digital billboard that would switch advertisers every week or so. Although he never really expected they’d project the one that was on display now. He had to squint a bit so that the now dripping rain didn’t get into his eyes as he watched the projection.

“The perfect companion, the perfect coworker, the perfect partner. Joi, your personal Ai. Everything you want to hear, everything you want to see.” The sentences rotated between each other over and over, Miguel stayed silent as he stared mindless at the naked back of the large Ai hologram, their skin admitting a light glow as she sensually ran her hands through her hair. Despite the words “companion” and “coworker” showing up on the ad, it was painfully obvious what the holographic woman was really meant for.

Still, he caught himself unable to look away, despite seeing the ads hundreds of times prior to this moment. He didn’t even register when the Ai had turned around and squatted in front him, making it so the two were at eye level.

“Hello handsome.” His eyes finally drifted up to meet hers once she spoke, he wasn't very fond of the default version they often used on most of their ads, so seeing this version in front of him was a lot more of a nicer sight to see. “What a day hmm?” When he didn’t respond she just came closer, “you look lonely… I could fix that…” She whispered with a head tilt, “you look like a good Joi…” before getting back up and moving away from Miguel once more.

Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was his way of pretending he wasn’t mourning an algorithm, maybe it was just him being tired of carrying everything on his shoulders, still… his eyes slowly went down to his orange watch, moving it in front of the bare glowing figure, before his free hand slowly hovered over the watch, hesitating for a moment, before pressing purchase.

—

Once Miguel got home he spent the next hour or so reworking your programming, jailbreaking and removing restrictions, wanting to make sure you were prepared to handle the society’s system before he even turned you on to make sure you wouldn’t crash the second you were hooked up to it.

Eventually, once everything ran to meet his expectations, he stood back and waited for you to appear in front of him. Waiting impatiently as he watched the small loading circle chase itself until you appeared, although you weren’t fully “awake” still, eyes closed, head slumped forwards and arms hung limply to your sides. Still needing to be given a name, an outfit and if he desired to change anything from your physical appearance he could. He decided to keep your assets the same, and placed a simple outfit on you, deciding if you ever evolved enough to be sentient on the same level as Lyla was, that he’d give you free range to change it. For a name though, it was a bit harder of a choice.

Maybe it was him having his previous one for as long as he did, but he wanted you to be… different, then her, a name that wasn’t, well, Lyla. Something nice and pleasant to say, but not simple enough for him to forget in the midst of him in a fight. After some pondering, he finally typed in the name into his watch and pressed the “finalized model”. Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw your head slowly begin to lift and your eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Hello Miguel.” You said him a smile.

“Hello (Y/N).” His lips twitched upwards for half a second.

—

It took a while for your program to adjust and be accustomed to the database, he never realized how much strain he put on his older Ai until he watched you try and accommodate the same thing, yet then again, he built it all around her, instead of vise versa. It wasn’t just you who had needed some time to adjust though. The amount of times that spiders (including Jessica and Miguel) would call for Lyla still instead of you was starting to… annoy you for lack of a better term.

You had been patient at first, appearing despite the slip up, simply correcting the person who called for you and going on with the request, then it seems that the patience started to run thin. Rolling your eyes or letting out snarky little remarks, then eventually you just started to not respond unless they called you by your actual name, which only led you landing yourself in a lecture from Miguel, being threatened to reboot your system. Him ranting about how it could be dangerous or something, after the first few times, it stops being fear insulating, once you even let out a yawn at his usual lecture. A yawn. How close he was to throwing his desk across his office.

The longer you stuck around the more knowledge you gather, the more self-aware you become, mimicking human thoughts and emotions, reading anything you could get your digital little hands on. From the words of Ancient Greek philosophers to thousands of different articles on how the human brain works, what different areas controlled what. You found humans quite interesting, such complex yet flawed creatures, you can understand why so many filmmakers and authors who write science fiction have some odd variation of robots wanting to either become humans or destroy them.

It’s almost cliche, but you can’t help but develop the same fascination with Miguel. How could you not? You were quite literally around him 24/7, you could tell he wanted to be taken care of when he wasn’t taking care of everything himself, and who were you as his assistant to refuse?

—

“Welcome back Miguel.” You smiled as you appeared next to the door before he could even step foot through its threshold. Your eyes followed him as he took his shoes off and threw his keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, landing with a loud clunk.

“I just saw you back at HQ.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him before he made his way to his kitchen, “It's been 20 minutes.” He added as he turned the corner, being met with you already there, leaning against the counter as his coffee machine was already pouring him a new cup in his favorite mug, with the stove being lit on for him to place his left overs onto to warm up.

“Being greeted when you arrive home helps boost your overall well-being.” You quipped, which only gained a small hum of acknowledgement as he placed a pot of bistec on top of the open flame, and a bowl of leftover white rice in the microwave.

“It could also help boost my overall well-being if you didn’t act like such a brat half the time.” He countered back as he stirred the streak and potatoes to make sure it didn’t burn before turning to face you, meeting you with that all too familiar smirk he always gave you. You were quick to mirror it. “You're supposed to make my life easier, ya know?” Despite it being a rhetorical question, your smirk only widely more.

A silence fell over the kitchen as he goes back to focusing on his food, you just stay there, watching as he made quick work fixing his plate, mumbled a small “sorry” to you everytime he would “bump into you” (as Miguel liked to call it) despite him only passing through your holographic body as he grabs the plate and cup of coffee and goes it set it down at the table, making sure to be fast as to not hold onto the gradually warming glass crockery long enough to burn his rough hands.

With a sigh, he sat down in front of his plate as he heard the faint noise of your projection deactivated from the kitchen, leaving him alone in the quiet home of his. He’s fork moving around the contains on his plate, piercing the potatoes and steak but never lifting it up to bite into the steaming meal. After a few more moments of playing with his food, he placed his fork back down, keeping his eyes down on his plate despite him lifting his head up.

“(Y/N).” He called out after cleaning his throat.

“Yes?” Your voice called back out, ringing through his apartment as he waited for you to reappear, only to let out a huff when you didn’t.

“…have dinner with me?” When he finally looked back up, he was met with you already in the chair across from him, a digital plate of food replicating his in front of you. His lips twitched up as he whispered a light thank you for entertaining his wish, even down to mimicking eating as you both sat there, his eyes never leaving yours.

After his appetite was satiated, and the dish were washed, he wander to his living room, being met with the sight of you already being sat down on one of the small leather accent chair that sat to the right of the coffee table, a small orange tablet-like screen being held in your hands as you tampered away on it, most likely readjusting tomorrow's schedule or researching more on some random topic you found interesting. Leaning against the doorway, he couldn't help but watch you, admire you. He found it humorous that you chose to physically sit down and read about topics even though you were built with the knowledge of practically everything. It made you feel more… real. It made him feel less insane when he found comfort in your company.

“Would you like me to leave you alone mig?” You asked after a second, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you. His heart stopped for half a second when you called him by the nickname as he shook his head.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked as he made his way towards you, stopping once he was close enough that if you had a physical being, his legs would have been touching your knees. (What are you doing?)

“Just going over your suit diagnostics, I’ve noticed that it’s been lagging a bit.” You hummed, not even fazed by the close proximity.

“…(Y/N).”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.” He commanded, but his tone is still somewhat soft with the order, your screen evaporating from your hands as you went to meet his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, leaving his dry lips before finally continuing. “You know, I feel like I don’t appreciate you enough.”

“Miguel, I’m your Ai assistant, my whole purpose is to help make your life easier.” You couldn’t help the slight snark that came seeping through your sentence, causing him to let out a scoff and playful eye roll.

“That’s not what I mean, you know that.” He countered with a head tilt, his hands sliding over his thighs and finding their way into his front jean pockets.

“What do you mean then?”

“What do you think I meant?” Now it was you who let out an eye roll as you huffed.

“Miguel, you know I can’t ‘think’. I’m not human, I can simply process and collect information and recite it back. I speak only in facts and unbiased sources.”

He couldn’t help but hate it when you talked like that during casual conversation, despite the deadpan look in your eyes and the small sass in your infliction, it only reminded him that you weren’t real. The only difference from your body and air, was that you were a set of ones and zeros. He could swat a hand through your body and you would simply glitch around it as it interrupted your coding and it attempted to adjust around him, how for once, he wishes that when he would “bump into you” that he would be met with solid flesh, you stumbling back a bit while you scold him, his hand coming around to met the small of your back to help re-stabilize your footing as he lets out a small chuckle.

“Don’t be a smartass with me (Y/N). You know, most humans I know don’t have the ability to think either, and they for sure aren’t as nearly intelligent or knowledgeable as you are. If they can form an option then you can too.” He was met with your face contorting in confusion, a rare expression on your face, one he appreciated when he got the opportunity to witness it. “I want you to think, give me an original thought. Not a statistic, not a fact. Think for yourself (Y/N).” The was a pause before your lips parted.

“I… I think…”

“Thaaaat’s it…” He leaned forward, his face close to yours as he encouraged you to continue in a low whisper. “I think?”

“I think… that if I was a human, that… that I would be in love with you Miguel.”

Oh.

“(Y/N).”

“Yes Miguel?”

“Shut off.”

“Yes Miguel.”

Within a blink, you were gone. His hands came out from his pockets with a heavy sigh, before he rubbed his face and ran them through his hair, causing the semi-neatly slicked back hair to become desiveled. Glancing around the now empty living room, the small constant buzzing from your hologram now being replaced with the gentle tapping of the rain against his window.

Miguel O’Hara was truly a lonely man. A man with weaknesses and flaws despite himself, a man with feelings, and vulnerabilities and emotions. Miguel O’Hara was just a man, just a human. A human who wanted to be loved. To not be seen as some sort of emotionless being, the irony wasn’t lost on him that the only thing that seemed to really care for him, and see him in that way was something that wasn’t even programmed with actual emotions. Oh how he wished you were real, how you were human.

He couldn’t turn you into a human, but he could get close.

With a sigh he entered his home office, the only room he had restricted giving you access to appearing in. Closing the door behind him before leaning against the door, his eyes instantly finding themselves stuck on the limb on the table. An arm to be more specific, the synthetic flesh that matched your complexion wrapped around its exoskeleton. It took him almost a month to do just one arm, and although the time length of that he estimated for this project was a bit more lengthy then he’d like, if it meant getting every minuscule and minute detail perfected, he’ll take all the time in the world for it. He’d make sure it was perfect, that you’d be prefect.

—

Tags: @oscarissac2099

[survivalove]

Air Temple Island, the Water Tribes & the Real Life Influences that bring them together

I was gonna screenshot a post I saw and add it to my post but I don’t feel like giving that individual attention (and the 300+ notes they got), so I just decided to make my own standalone post debunking this narrative that air temple island is this fully air nomad brothel (yes they said this) with ZERO water tribe motifs which katara is forced to live in until aang passed away.

frankly it just reminded me of how little people in this fandom actually bother to analyze the actual content, instead preferring to write entirely made up scenarios of katara being reduced to an air nomad incubator along with dozens other female acolytes (yes they also said this lmao. also them acting like both male AND female acolytes weren’t living on the whole other side of the island 😭)

when in truth, i’ve come to find a lot of elements of both water tribes as well as traditional inuit elements across air temple island:

1. the paifang

a traditionally chinese element that for some reason is exclusively found in the northern water tribe (why do they have a gate inside a throne room, you ask? ask the white people that made this show). the one on the left is actually one of two aang BUILT, at the main entrance and another at the temple entrance. this is just one example of water tribe design on the island.

2. the bagua mosaic

another structure is the bagua mosaic on the training grounds. bagua is a set of traditional chinese symbols of the cosmology, taoism. the bagua composes of 8 sets of broken or unbroken lines that represent yin and yang. where have we seen yin and yang in the original series? oh yeah, as tui and la of the water tribe! (because atla is a mess of asiatic and indigenous motifs joined together and spread out across each nation, mainly traditionally chinese elements at that.) aang building this right next to the air nomad training grounds is a symbol of the dual bending heritage their children will have.

3. gold and blue accents

now, gold and blue are the main colors of the exterior structures but is also very strong inside the air temple itself. note, the massive air nomad symbol designed fully in blue in the center and the blue banners and rugs throughout the temple. this is no doubt, for me, a visual depiction of both katara and aang’s representative cultures, but of course this is not limited to color only.

4. cloud carvings

now, this is a slight detour since clouds aren’t a significant part of either of their individual cultures (that we know) but i love the kataang monopoly they have on clouds as a couple so i’m talking about it. if you look at these images very closely what do you see? CLOUD CARVINGS!! specifically near the ceiling of the pavilion (left) and the arches and walls of the temple (right) just imagining aang painting and etching these very consistent swirls, like he’ll never be the selfish inconsiderate unromantic loser you people want him to be, but let’s get more into the southern water tribe style interior.

5. interior design

so here is a southern water tribe white lotus outpost vs the air temple island main dining room. first thing, the seat cushions and rug! while we don’t see air nomad eating quarters we do get to see enough SWT customs both in atla and lok, to know this is how they traditionally eat compared to the north (limiting myself on pics cuz mobile).

another thing is the dining table itself. both have what i believe to be built in fire pits (i couldn’t actually tell for the air temple island one cuz of the quality but if you zoom in you can see the lines go in the table plus the hanging kettle on it makes it obvious to me idk). the southern water tribe one however is clear and likely a more traditional version of what aang and katara have.

thirdly, the exposed timber on the ceiling. i actually looked it up and found this is a common element of these two inuit structures: left is an aasiaat peat house and right is an igloolik turf house. all this for me to believe not only did aang build air temple island to be a haven for the TWO of them but also that katara herself had a lot of input on the interior than people care to notice lol.

maybe instead of projecting these loser fantasies of katara being some unwilling air nomad baby making machine so you can feel better about your fantasies of katara living in a red palace with people that tried to wipe her out for a whole century, you all can go study the actual canon you were shown and the real life cultures the franchise takes from.

6. lastly, some of my own headcanons/stuff i want to see in the movie

the bathroom because I LIVE for a white marble tiled bathroom. i just know katara has to have a HUGE tub and they have one of those insane glass showers that can fit like 3 people, with cloud swirls everywhere because aang clearly got it like that

the KITCHEN, i imagine it being timber like the dining room and is probably on the other side behind the built-in shelf (get into the details like hello). in a perfect world, it would be open plan but hey

the bedroom, now we saw it in lok a bit but i wanna see it in the gaang movie too. i’m on pic limit but there’s a lot of artwork and flowers throughout the whole house which i give katara credit for because I can. like the desk, the bookshelf, that fancy looking vase thing? these two clearly have taste like don’t talk to me rn

I also didn’t show the rooms and aang’s study but there’s a lot of blue decor in those places which makes me think katara decorated the whole house, even the acolytes’ hall has blue sitting cushions and columns which i think is such a nice detail.

if you guys have any air temple island headcanons of your own please reply with some i’m feening lol

big shoutout to this user:

atla-annotated (their page is so great and filled with a lot of incredible information if you guys like this sort of stuff)

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

It is soooo very important to me that Arcane decided to zoom in on this moment. I don’t even have the brains to fully explain why but I guess it just obviously shows the real turnaround in their dynamic.

Going from complete distrust to pissing each other off (especially Vi to Cait) then being forced to have each other’s backs because they’re all the other one really has in this situation.

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say because of course Cait and Vi have a ton of pivotal moments within the series when it comes to each other but this one, the way it’s framed and portrayed is obvious but not as obvious as say the bedroom scene or the brothel scene.

It’s not just the dialogue that shows the shift but the way such a simple gesture like gripping each others hands and helping the other up is zoomed in on. I think I might just be raving about the cinematography and how it also contributes to the development of our girls’ relationship.

Plus it’s not the only zoomed in hand holding we see.

From “okay, I’ve got you” to “okay, I trust you” to “okay, we’re in this together”

ALSO the fact that it’s Caitlyn and Vi who both went in for the grab in the first image, then Caitlyn went in for the touch to comfort Vi in the second, then Vi went in to reassure Caitlyn in the third. They’re both kind of all in and it’s amazing that you can see that even without dialogue, but with each look and caress and how they’re framed right in front of our eyes.

I’m just stating the obvious because obviously when something is zoomed in on, it means it’s important. But it’s not just important to the narrative or our interpretations of their relationship as we watch, but it’s important to Caitlyn and Vi personally. I’m talking about them as if they’re real (THEYRE REAL TO ME!!!), but they’re still individual characters in this relationship, so having these simple gestures be framed in a way where they’re finally aligned and somewhat in agreement with how the moments should be construed compared to how they tend to be on different wavelengths constantly in other times in the show… idk it just hits.

Ummm so yeah Arcane is a good show and does a good job at being a show I guess.

[lacrimosathedark]

I have a very specific Hazbin AU idea and no actual plot so I'll throw it out there.

Human AU, specifically with Rosie and Alastor in a marriage of convenience. Alastor finds no interest in anyone but finds Rosie delightful, and Rosie has perhaps been "mysteriously" widowed a few times and need the financial support for The Times.

I don't think Alastor was a cannibal when he was alive, but it's part of Rosie's identity, so maybe when he kills people, he, like...gives them to her? idk cannibalism makes me real uncomfy but I thought it'd be an almost funny dynamic. It's certainly a way to dispose of a body without having to dump it somewhere(and thus getting shot in the fucking face).

Also funny dynamic, queer human Vox really likes Alastor and catches his very fruity vibes, but Alastor 1. has -1000 interest in Vox's very existence, and 2. doesn't understand the "coded language" Vox uses because Alastor isn't really in queer circles. Not that he'd horribly mind, but he's not gonna put in the effort to be in them, yknow? So Alastor is there, completely fucking oblivious with a sinister smile while Vox is fuming in frustration over failing to hit on him.

...and maybe a special little girl and her daddy make him just a little bit better of a person and a lot more happy. Just, y'know, if you wanna.

And teeny Charlie can have Auntie Rosie as the cool aunt she was made to be. They watch musicals together and Rosie is a very exuberant audience when Charlie tries to replicate them as a one-girl show by herself.

Oh, this would also be a fun setting for a certain pimp to maybe lose his head. Figuratively or literally. Preferably literally.

ADDING BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER THING: Rosie meeting Angel and thinking he's an absolute darling, and thn finding out about his situationwith Valentino and going to Alastor like, "Alastor, sweetie, could you be a doll and get me something real special to eat? I've got a very specific craving." Alastor objects solely because he's such a powerful figure that it would draw attention to them, and points out it would also leave a power vacuum and a number of vulnerable people more vulnerable.

So Rosie decides to run a competing brothel out of her Emporium, and ends taking a lot of business and workers from Valentino.

It's so funny to me to imagine aroace Alastor just having casual interactions with like a room full of sex workers, completely unfazed, listening to their sordid tales.

And if the subjects of some of those stories go missing, well, who's to know what happened, right?

But mostly I want QPP Alastor/Rosie without the label being married not cuz they're in love but because society is silly and they're besties. Who maybe sometimes do murders together.

[norakbubbles]

I just finished the final episode of Game of Thrones about two hours ago and....*sighs*

I have many feelings and I'm going to list them:

1. Braime and Theonsa could have been endgame couples if the writers weren't COWARDS-

2. "Bran the Broken" makes me giggle bc they literally couldn't find any other nickname for him

3. I still low-key think Gendry should have been king in the end, given he technically was supposed to have the iron throne after Robert died in the first place

3. Yaayyy Jon, Tormund and Ghost are together again (if s8 ended with me not being able to see Tormund for one last time I would've thrown hands)

4. Literally poor tyrion being made another hand of someone he barely knows when he doesn't want to

5. Bronn wanting to prioritize rebuilding brothels over ships makes me laugh

6. Robin Arryn's glow-up shocked me bc he actually doesn't look like an iPad kid anymore 👏👏

7. Sandor being one of the casualties in the final fight saddened me more than Jaime I'm sorry but it did

8. Ngl I forgot who Edmure Tully was for a hot minute when he showed up

9. Dany's death did not make me upset but Drogon's reaction to her death did idk why

10. Did anyone else go "Now what?" during the last few minutes? Like Sansa being crowned queen of the North and Jon and Tormund going off with the wildlings and Ghost? Like what are they gonna do now? There really aren't any more threats. If anyone does know of any still existing threats by the end of the series let me know

Anyway, I'm pretty sure my mom is tired of hearing me yap about Braime all the time and my sis and I both agree that Theon should have been there with Sansa as she was crowned. I loved the series, and will most likely be moving on to HotD next bc I've heard it's good. Yes season 8 could have been better but in the end, we just have to accept that that's how the series ended and there's nothing we can do about it....

that's what fanfiction is for... 😗

[faerievampling]

During the brothel scene with A!A, Astarion will ask his consort to choose which one of their partners to feed on: either drow twin or halsin if you bring him.

first of all: A letting Tav get first choice is cute to me (he wants you to play his vampire games. call it vampire shenanigans. pretty sure he gets a little annoyed and bites them anyway if you refuse lol like he doesn’t make Tav do it but he will) and it’s implied he will bite Halsin or at least taste his blood either way (i believe Astarion is really into the lip bite thing and there’s no way Spawn Astarion isn’t either lol)

it’s one of the only instances (i think the only one actually) where you really get to see these two be vampires together. Even tho the end of this scene is very sad (Astarion having such an intense look that it freaks out Tav, ‘makes them shiver’) I do like how Astarion takes Tav on his lap, maybe casually, or for comfort. idk, my hcs go wild here and I haven’t seen it discussed a lot!

My Tav chose to bite Halsin because…duh. and HE ENJOYS IT. playfully calls Astarion a bad influence on Tav, ugh i just love his line here.

anyway this scene is just really interesting for a casual A!A enjoyer.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

A Dragon Does Not Bow Down 🐉 | HOTD Imagine P.2

GOT/HOTD Masterlist | Part 1

Characters & Pairings: Targaryen/Lannister!OC—Daerra Targaryen x the Greens (platonic) & the Blacks (platonic), slight bi!Gwayne Hightower x bi!OC

Content Warnings: follows episodes 7&8 of S.1, fluff (between oc and kids), suggestive content/implied smut, bi!oc angst, murder (Vaemond), blood, violence, dysfunctional family dynamics, eventual B&C, slight canon divergence | female!OC (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: The House of the Dragon is an impenetrable force when standing together. Bound by love, duty, and sacrifice. But when sides are drawn between kin, not even the glue that holds them together can withstand.

Note: okay so part 2 would've been too damn long so this is going to be 3 parts. 4 at the most, but idk if it will get to that with what I have planned. Also i'm already missing HOTD sundays can 2026 hurry up fr :(

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The brewing feud of what became the Greens and the Blacks only heightened with the loss of Prince Aemond’s eye the night he claimed the mighty Vhagar as his mount. Putting a larger rift between the families. 

Shortly after Rhaenyra took her family to Dragonstone, Daerra had been away to Oldtown, visiting Daeron on the request of Alicent and Viserys when the news broke of Lady Laena Velaryon’s death. Having only just arrived, she sent a raven to her cousin Rhaenys to apologize for her absence and offering condolences to the family for their great loss. Promising to visit Driftmark as soon as she returned east. 

Daerra had fond memories of Laena. A bright girl, only a few years younger and had once flown their dragons alongside Rhaenyra before their marriages to Laenor and Daemon. Often roaming the grounds of the Red Keep when the Velaryons were present at court. Gossiping among themselves and watching tourneys. Laena suggests handsome Lords and Knights to Daerra, and her refuting them with a playful nudge. Always having a laugh. 

They hadn’t seen each other for years, not since Laena had her daughters and went to Pentos. A sad realization, prompting Daerra to take her grief and release it to no one but the Gods as she stared up at the night sky. The moon glowing in its full form, marking the beginning of its cycle. 

Her chambers overlooked the city, which was in full swing as knights and residents strolled the pavements. Filling the taverns and brothels to their full capacity. Lord Ormund Hightower was kind enough to host Daerra upon her arrival. Setting up the guest chambers in the ancestral home in accordance to her liking. Daeron was very excited to see her. Leaving his post immediately to greet Daerra as she dismounted Cannibal. He’d grown so big since the last time she saw him, the boy nearly threw her off her footing when he collided into her for a hug. 

He was everything Daerra hoped for. Sweet, kind. Ambitious yet benevolent. Strong with a caring heart. All the qualities Aegon grew out of and what Aemond was slowly losing. Opposed to her hard work to keep them pure. The Hightower poison Otto left Alicent with to taint her children ran deep. Leaving only Helaena and Daeron free from its darkness.

Leaning against the ledge, Daerra closed her eyes as the wind brushed past her. Sending her silver curls away from her face, bringing a chill to her cheeks. 

“Thought I'd find you here,” a voice interrupts her peace. One she knew all too well, making her brows knit and shoulders drop. 

Daerra doesn’t turn to greet him, keeping her eyes closed, “ Ser Gwayne.”  

If any of the servants heard her tone, they’d believe Daerra would rather become food to her dragon than be in the same room as the honorable Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Gwayne Hightower. Then again, they’d have reason too. Daerra’s known distaste for the Hightowers was as known as that of Daemon’s. She’d only in the last fifteen years since the birth of Aegon displayed camaraderie. 

It was really Otto she despised. Alicent was an interesting case. They’d been somewhat friends as young ladies before her marriage to the King. Then Daerra became basically a second mother to the children while she was off doing her duties as Queen. Although sympathetic to Alicent for being a pawn in her father’s game for power in the royal family, Daerra’s opinion of her soured with how she treated the children. Focusing more on her bitter rivalry with Rhaenyra than showing love and affection.

And while Daerra may be that maternal figure for the royal children, nothing compares to receiving love from the one who birthed them. 

On the matters of Gwayne, their friendship was best described as two people who stood on opposite sides of a balanced scale. They were an unlikely pair. Bickering like an old married couple, fighting like scored lovers. Holding mutual respect and admiration. Not afraid to call the other out on nonsense, but also confide together when they needed an outlet. 

They spared and gossiped. Judged from the shadows. Daerra cheered for him at tourneys when he came to court, and granted her favor. “ I wish good luck, Ser Gwayne. Do come away unscathed for the lovely ladies would be heartbroken to see that pretty face of yours bloodied.” Gwayne her knight in shining armor at feasts, pulling her away from Lords she desperately wanted to get away from, “ Come, my Lady, the cakes this evening are marvelous. I thought I saw your favorite when I passed by.”

Many Lords and Ladies suspected the two had a secret relationship. Waiting for the day Otto announced their betrothal. Daerra knew there’d been a time the Hand thought about it. Before the rumors of her missing prospects came to light. And she even considered it, believing Gwayne to be the best choice of a suitor if she desired. They were friends--- and dabbled in more close relations-- they could have a union filled with respect, friendship, and platonic love. Surely if they married it would further bring the two houses together. But deep down both knew no matter what bonds or marriages were forged between House Hightower and House Targaryen would be enough. 

And especially now with what news Gwayne had for her.

His footsteps echo, coming to a stop beside her. “ Oh please , do not get so excited to see me, my dear Lady.” The sarcasm in his voice incited an intrusive thought to throw him over the edge. But alas, she simply sighed and opened her eyes to meet his gaze. 

“What do you want? What brings you to my chambers and disturb my solace?”

Gwayne drops his usual posh stance, bringing his body to match hers. “A raven has arrived from King’s Landing.” She perked up, concern etching her face by the way his demeanor shifted to one of seriousness. “The King and Queen request you return home on the morrow, rather than your original departure date.”

“Did they say why?” She’d only been in Oldtown two nights, planning to stay for another three. Enough for her to spend time with Daeron, attend his first tourney, and observe the progress of his lessons. To call her back so soon meant something happened. 

“An accident occurred between the young Prince Aemond and his cousins. The boy has lost his eye at the hand of Prince Lucerys.” She gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in horror. Unable to process what the knight was telling her. 

Lucerys cut out Aemond’s eye? What in the Seven Hells could have possibly brought about a horrifying assault? Millions of questions swarmed her brain, trying to grasp the reality of it.

“I--I cannot fathom,” she lacked the words to find, a wave of nausea surfacing she fought to hold down. “Did the message say anything else? What led to such a thing?” Hand going to her forehead, the other to her stomach, Daerra paced the opposite direction before turning back. “There had to have been more.”

Gwayne shook his head, visibly upset by the news and worried for his nephew. Jaw tightening as he looked out to the city, “I assume his and her Grace will inform you upon your return. Detailing the gruesome event might have been too much for my sister.” Her nod was seen in his peripheral vision. The knight licks his bottom lip, adding, “I understand this comes as a shock, but I can’t help but wonder what it means for you.”

Daerra drops her hands, placing them on her hips as she regards him, “What exactly are you implying, Gwayne .” He stands straighter, now facing her but keeps the right side of his body leaned against the stone. 

“Tis’ not unknown your affections for my sister’s children, and those of Princess Rhaenyra. You are a prominent figure in all their lives--have been there since the day they were born,” Gwanye gave a knowing look, “and you love them like they’re your own --my niece and nephews more so.” Letting out a light scoff, Daerra simply shrugged at the comment.

“I admit my frustration with the King and Queen’s… neglect per say, has not been properly concealed as it should. The King lost interest in them early on,” her tone takes a softer tone, laced with disappointment in her cousin. Recalling all the times she witnessed the children receive breadcrumbs worth of affection from their father. “And the Queen… she did her best .” Daerra was careful with her wording. Understanding this was his sister and to speak ill of her was to not be tolerated. 

“And Rhaenyra’s children?” 

Daerra lowered her defenses, waving a hand as she explained, “Her sons are lucky. They got to grow up in an environment filled with love and affection from both parents . And--,” she points a finger, “the love of others. As you said, I’ve been there since the beginning. My cousin the King dots on them--far more than he does his own children. The Velaryons--and before he was sent away, Ser Harwin Strong showed them devotion.” Daerra caught the way Gwayne’s expression shifted, but did not comment.  

Guess rumors spread far beyond the Keep. Alicent made sure of that.

“You still haven’t answered my original question,” Gwayne’s tone was neutral, not accusing nor defending. Simply curious. “You and I are not blind to the.. unpleasant standings between our houses and those who head them.” By them he meant Otto & Alicent vs. Rhaenyra & Daemon. “Sides are being drawn with each day, Daerra. Unlike myself, you fall directly in the center because of your love for the Princess and the King’s children.”

Daerra swallowed, turning away to not meet his eye. He was right and she knew it. Gwayne was a Hightower. A sworn knight and brother of the Queen. Set to become the heir of Oldtown upon the death of his uncle who had no living sons. By obligation, and blood, he’d support his family no matter if they were right or wrong in a war. 

But Daerra? Her blood would be the war.

A sickening dread consuming her stomach. “Are you asking what side I will choose?” 

Gwayne did not lie, “ I am.” Part of her hated him for thrusting the reality upon her. The other part understood. They were friends, but even that cannot breach through war when their kin are on opposing sides. 

All must choose .

“Why?” Daerra murmured, still not looking at him. “Why must I?” She felt his gaze, not having to see the pity in his eyes to know it was there. “They cannot expect me to betray one to support the other.”

“They will.” Gwanye tells her softly. “And your devotion to both sides will have them question your loyalty regardless of who you choose.”

“ My loyalty is with House Targaryen!” She finally snaps, the fire unleashing. Gwayne doesn’t flinch, however, having experienced Daerra’s temper on multiple occasions. Both receiving and witnessing. A huff leaves her, bellowing out her cheeks. “Viserys is my cousin-- Rhaenyra is his blood. As are his children by your sister!” 

Gwayne felt for his friend. Observing the turmoil in her visage, a visible picture of the battle raging in her mind. To love people on both sides of an impending brawl had to be emotionally draining. 

“I cannot simply lean to one side!” Her exclaim echoes, likely alerting the guards and servants. Who will no doubt run their mouths at any given chance. A thought that had the knight briefly glance inside her chambers for unwanted guests. “Not when the foundation of my house is at stake. Do you not realize, Gwayne,” she faces him, unable to contain the worry in her eyes. “What a war between dragons can unleash? Spreading blood and fire across the realm---no man, woman, or child safe from the flames.” It was a horrifying image. Bathed in bloodshed with no escape. King’s Landing on fire. Houses torn apart. Friend fighting friend and foe aligning.

She will not see it happen.

“I am doing everything in my power to prevent it-- but your father and sister ,” her voice comes out in a hiss, full of anger, “are making it so difficult.”

Gwayne runs a hand through his hair, then brings it down to rub his temples as his face hardens. Processing Daerra’s implication which would have any other Lord running to accuse of treason. But the knight knew how deep his father’s ambitions were. His desire to keep Alicent close to the royal family when he brought her to court all those years ago. Leaving him in the care of his aunt and uncle.  

“What you say….” Daerra cut him off, frantically waving a hand, “Do not lecture me. You know as good as I why your father was removed as Hand. Ever since Aegon came into this world, he has had but one goal.”

“Aegon is the King's first-born son , Daerra.” 

“And yet he has not been named heir,” she scoffs, shaking her head. Moving away from the man to pace once more. “Believe me, Gwayne, I’ve questioned my cousin’s judgment. I’ve brought my concerns to him, but he remains relentless .” Breathing through her nose, Daerra taps a finger to her bottom lip. “This whole Greens and Blacks faction that has seemed to form since the Princess’ wedding, would be put to an end if Rhaenyra’s claim was affirmed. Aegon does not wish to be king--.” she spins around, extending a hand to emphasize. “You should see him, Gwayne, he is a lost boy who is not fit to handle the responsibility of the crown. He’d rather drink himself to an early grave and fuck as many whores along the way. It’s Otto and Alicent who’s driven this idea he must rule into his head!” 

Now Gwayne was fearful, "I don’t doubt you, Daerra,” he hushed her, peering around to ensure no witnesses were around. Coming closer to rest his hands on her shoulders, easing her fire. “I’m well acquainted with my father’s schemes. I grieve for my sister experiencing it firsthand. But you cannot speak this to anyone else. You know what will happen to you if this reaches my father’s ear.” 

She relaxes against his touch, but her expression remains tormented. “So long as my cousin lives, I will be fine. Right now my influence has done its job, but I realize it will thin once the illness takes him.” Which could happen at any moment. Viserys grew weaker each day. It was a miracle he lasted ten years after the first signs. “Until then I must prepare--and pray to the Gods for guidance.” Her chuckle lacks humor, tilting her head slightly, “though I doubt they will answer. Not with the sins I’ve bestowed under them.”

Gwayne snickers and steps away, but not before offering a comforting squeeze to her shoulders. “Good things come to those who wait, my friend.” A brief silence occurs, the tension coming to a halt. Leaning back against the stone, Gwayne’s expression turns to a mock frown, “I must admit you leaving us so soon saddens me. I’d planned an excursion for your last night,” his frown turns to a smirk, making Daerra cross her arms over her chest, eyes now suspicious of the knight. “Guess we’ll have to wait until your next visit.”

“And what, good Ser, did this excursion entail?”

Gwayne’s face turns innocent, far from what was brewing in his mind. Of course Daerra knew what it was, but she wanted to hear him say it aloud. “Only that I had taken it upon myself to reserve our favorite companion for some quality time.” Daerra lets out a ‘mmmph .”

“When you say our favorite , do you really mean your favorite or my favorite?” Her smirk was playful, body language relieved all prior tension it once had. The thought of pleasure was too enticing to remain distressed. “Because as I recall, it was your favorite who joined us when I was here last. And while I love his presence dearly, I’d be saddened if we passed on my beauty when it’s been so long.”

Gwayne bit his bottom lip, lust surfacing as the memory of that night played in his mind. Blood traveling down where it desired most. “Fear not, my dearest, you will be pleased with the choice of company. She was excited when I spoke with her, anticipating the occasion greatly. But unfortunately I’ll have to inform her you were called away….unless, of course, I call for her now.” He grins at her physical reaction. “If you so wish to have her tonight, as the King and Queen await you on the morrow.” Daerra uncurled her arms from her chest, letting them fall slowly to her sides, not missing the way Gwayne watched the movement intently before trailing his gaze slowly up to reach her eyes. Where he was met with the same look of lust and desire. 

“Well then, lead the way my good Ser. I’d hate to keep her waiting .”

Six Years Later

The Red Keep was buzzing the moment it was notified Rhaenyra’s ships were approaching the docks. Servants rushing to get the rooms ready. Guards on alert. 

Daerra was dressed in her best attire. Deep black with scales on the shoulders to mimic Cannibal’s. Wildfire green trimming and silver chains attaching her black cloak to the leather chest plate. Her trousers tucked into her boots. Whip and blade attached to the belt, where a buckle of dragon’s head with emerald gems as eyes stood out against the material.  

It was a beautiful day. Despite the darkness looming around the corner. For the noble Lords of Westeros were to gather the following day as witnesses to the petition of Prince Lucerys Velaryon’s claim. Brought on by his uncle Vaemond, brother to Lord Corlys. 

The heat of the sun met Daerra, gliding down the steps toward the ship with a small smile on her face. Brightening wider at the sound of a shout, “ Aunt Daerra!!” Two figures possessing deep brown hair raced off the dock. Sprinting to meet her in the middle.

“My boys!” Her arms shot out, welcoming Jace. The boy flinging himself into her arms while Luke slowed down and stopped to await his turn. “My, my, tis’ only been a year since I saw you last and you’ve grown nearly as tall as I.” Letting Jace go, Daerra greeted Luke, who was just as excited to see her. “You’ll be knights in no time.” He stepped into her embrace, their cloaks flowing from the wind. 

Luke groaned when she ruffled his mop of hair as he pulled away. Then his expression took a more serious one. “What’s going to happen, Aunt Daerra?”

‘ What’s going to happen to my claim?’ He wanted to say. 

The woman sighed, patting his shoulder as they all moved to greet the rest of his family. “Vaemond will speak, then your mother. Once both parties have been heard and assessed, the verdict will come from the Hand. ” Her voice was strained at the last statement. 

Otto Hightower. Her main nemesis in the Keep. Fueled with power now that Viserys was bed ridden, allowing Alicent to rule in his place, and her father by extension. This decreased Daerra’s influence in court greatly. Barely managing to combat against the Hightower's when they made decisions in their favor rather than the future of the realm

“Cousin,” Rhaernya grinned, holding Joffrey’s small hand in her own to help him step off the docks. Daemon follows behind, with the young boys held by maids. 

“My Princess,” bowing before the woman, Daerra smiles, “It is an honor to be the first to greet you all.”

“Yes,” Daemon murmurs, observing the area unimpressed. “I noticed as we docked the absence of His and Her Grace.” Narrowing a suspicious eye at his cousin, Daemon steps in front of Rhaenyra despite her silent plea, “What of my brother’s condition, Daerra?”

Knowing this was coming, the dragon rider let out a weary sigh. Leaning so the three were huddled together, the children were unable to hear, Daerra glowered, “His Grace’s illness has worsened. Tis’ a miracle by the Gods he still breathes, and you will understand once you see him.” Her shoulders tense, expression turning dour, “Unfortunately I have not been permitted an audience with Viserys in quite some time. By order of the Queen and Hand.”

Rhaenyra frowns, glancing between Daerra and Daemon. “That is absurd. You are the King’s cousin .” Sensing Daemon’s anger, the princess speaks for the both of them. “You should not be denied visitation. How is that even allowed?” 

Once again, the Lady sighs, shrugging her shoulders in defeat, “I’m afraid my guidance amongst your father’s council grows thin by the day. His condition has uplifted the Hightower's, pushing me into the shadows. Now my duty resorts to making sure your siblings are in line.” She pauses to scoff, recalling moments she nearly became a kinslayer . 

Like discovering where Aegon took Aemond on his thirteenth name day. The first time she ever threatened to feed the boy to Cannibal. 

“Honestly if Otto Hightower had his way, I’d be on the next horse back to Casterly Rock.” The frown turns to a small smirk, “ Yet here I remain . Which will not change so long as the King and myself are breathing.” 

Rhaenyra’s worry increases despite Daerra’s words. Thinking about what it meant for her claim. The Hightower's managing to remove Daerra from the council proves they were holding more power than she had anticipated. 

Nodding her head before gesturing to the castle, Rhaenyra cleared her throat. “Shall we then? I should like to see my father immediately.” They depart with haste, Daerra picking up Joffrey to hold him on her hip. Leading the way to the carriage that will take them inside the Keep.  

The boys talk her ear off the entire journey. Luke and Jace update the woman on their current progress while Joffrey plays with her chains. Their studies, their training. Their bond with their dragons they’ve now successfully ridden. 

“You must be parched from the journey, and in need of food,” Daerra announces when they arrive, exiting the carriage with Joffrey holding tightly to her hand. “Come, boys. Have some lunch while your mother and step-father visit the King. Then you may explore the grounds until it comes time to gather for dinner.” 

Bidding goodbye to Rhaenyra and Daemon, the four enter the dining room to an array of food. Daerra takes claim to the seat at the head, helping Joffrey into the one next to her while Jace and Luke move to the opposite side. Their conversations from the carriage continued over the meal. Once finished, the boys thanked Daerra and departed, while she escorted Joffrey to the babes chambers reserved for the little princes. By the time the moon took claim to the skies, Daerra emptied an entire pitcher of wine. Enough to rival Aegon’s record. 

It’d been a long day . Filled with minor insults thrown from uncles to nephews. Tensions between the Queen and Princess enough to suffocate the entire castle. Viserys’ condition was worse than Daerra predicted. As Daemon informed her and didn’t shy away from insinuating her lack of prevention. Citing her closeness to the ‘ Hightower offspring ’ as he called them. Otto held a meeting with Vaemond, which Daerra caught near the end and immediately had suspicion. 

Gods, had it really once been like this for ten years?

Stress and exhaustion coated her, sleep calling her name. Yet as the warmth of the fire filled her chamber, Daerra’s mind failed to relax. Recalling the night in Oldtown with Gwayne. 

“Sides are being drawn with each day, Daerra,” he told her. Reminding her of the challenge she faced having love for both sides of the coin. 

All must choose.

The voice in Daerra’s head screamed that her decision would be determined soon. Either on the morrow or in the days to come, Daerra Targaryen would pick a side. 

A side that will forever alter the course of history. 

[nicksolemnlyswears]

HOTD S2 EP2 THOUGHTS

SPOILERS AHEAD

I need to start this by the very strange scene at the brothel. It took me so much by surprise I had to pause it. Like we all know these boys have mommy issues but I always thought it was more Aegon than Aemond. Like wow. I was left like this

It was the intimate position, his hair was down, the lack of clothes. He was completely vulnerable. Aemond wanted to be coddled and to be told reassuring words.

I didn’t understand well the part where she tries to kiss him and he says “not here” like sure man. you’re just naked and telling the keeps secret but go off [ngl i was waiting for her to pop a boob out and breast feed him]

that woman is a dangerous woman. she had scheming eyes. we’ll see where that goes.

Following up with the mommy issues I am so disappointed in Alicent. Aegon is clearly not her favorite child I do not know how she can bear seeing him weep as he seeks her out and she just nopes out. WTF. No wonder your other son is seeking refuge elsewhere. Also forcing Haelena to do the funeral proceeding. What sort of mother are you? The Greens think they’re so high and mighty but they barely resemble a family. They are not a united front.

The funeral proceedings almost had me in tears. I didn’t think they’d show the poor child with its head sewn back together. I thought he’d be covered. Now more so than ever I curse Alicent. You are forcing your daughter who had to witness his death relieve this scene. You forced her to watch her son be paraded around the city.

Daemon fucked up and it’s because of him that a child is dead and yet I can’t bring myself to hate the Blacks. The Greens are terrible people.

Aegon is falling apart and mourning and he has no one to come to. He doesn’t know how to control his emotions and I can’t blame him for it when his mother and grandfather only use him as a puppet and not a real human being. I pity the Hightower children.

That being said WTF was that? Making Ser Criston Cole the hand to the king? Disgusting. He was projecting so hard during this episode. Bitching about Arryks dirty cloak and blaming him for Jaeherys death.

BITCH IT WAS YOUR FAULT FOR GETTING YOUR COCK WET. FUCKING CRISTON COLE I CANT FUCKING STAND HIM. I CANT EVEN SAY IM HAPPY ALICENT SLAPPED HIM CAUSE HE PROBABLY ENJOYED IT.

I’ve got more to say regarding the Greens but my blood pressure is going up. Let me recap I hate them and I pity them all at the same time because the three children are only products of Alicent and Otto’s parenting (Viserys up to some point to)

Oh and let’s not forget Otto’s kind words for Viserys. He probably just misses how easy he was to control.

MOVING ONTO THE BLACKS

Baby Jace and Baela I love that little moment and yet I fear it because she’s out there on cute little Moondancer and it sounds like trouble.

Love the Ser Harwin talk. They acknowledge it and they accept it. Talk about being progressive.

But also so sad that Baela feels that way towards Daemon. I had high hopes for their relationship considering that deleted scene in season 1.

RHAENYS HAVING RHAENYRAS BACK TALK ABOUT FEMINISM. HELL YEAH! I fully want Rhaenys to be Rhaenyras ride or die!!

Daemon fucked up, yes. Will we ever know what he told Blood and Cheese? No. Still I can’t blame Rhaenyra for doubting him. He’s a sketchy man who puts on his little cloak to commit war crimes.

Don’t get me wrong I’m a Daemon stan but if he didn’t act so sketchy maybe we would trust him more.

He’s a dramatic guy he’s out commuting yet another big declaration of love for Rhaenyra. Like “look i’ve got harrenhal for you” I think idk we’ll see next episode.

Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk how fucking tragic. and whose fault is it? FUCKING CRISTON COLE PIECE OF SHIT

breathe nikki breathe

a part of me thinks he killed himself because he knew they would live in doubt if he’s really sir erryk. but in reality they believed they share a soul so that was probably why. he killed his other fucking half. they might be divided by believes but they still love each other.

ELINDA IS A REAL HANDMAID. SHE FOLLOWED INSTRUCTIONS AND LOOKED FOR A GUARD. Haelenas maid could never.

I have so many more thoughts so if anyone wants to talk please feel free to hit me up. I’ll probably rewatch the episode tomorrow again to process

[reidmym1nd]

spoilers for hotd s2 ep 3

"im as fearsome as any of them" BOY WHO LIED TO YOU?? EVEN HIS COUNCIL KNOWS HIS LAYING EVEN HIS OWN MOTHER LMAOAOAO

jace serving face card once again

the kingsguard knows what's up you can't tell me they dont

not daemon acting like he's the king

something seeing green in kings landing is making me sick

nyra sending her youngest children away made me sob WHEN JOFF SAID "MOMMY" I STARYED TEARING UP

TWO THINGS I WANNA TALK ABOUT IN THAT BROTHEL SCENE (again)

WHERE WAS THE JUMPSCARE WARNING FOR THE HEAD PART???

aegon is really make me dislike him, we just saw history repeat itself but this time with his young squire and then him catching aemond in bed with his @buser

I WAS NOT EXPECTING AEMOND TO TURN AROUND NAKED BRO

OMG MILLY'S BACK I HAD A FEELING SHE WAS GOING TO BE BACK

yk that alicent and rhaenyra was kinda wholesome BUT UGH SHE KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE BUT YOU STILL WANT WAR??

im not prepared for the next ep, its gonna be the battle of rook's rest🧍🏻‍♀️

cole and alicent having marital disputes (in fromr of the council too, idk how these ppl dont know what happens behind close doors) and then having alicent and rhaenyra together at the end was just the icing on top 😭😭

just realizing daemon might never see his sons again (i havent read the book so idk the whole timeline for dance of the dragons)

[slexenskee]

can i ask for any details about the hotd/jjk fic?

you mean aside from this lil WIP snippet?

I think I'm gonna call it "Write myself out of the history books" a line from All Time Low to match the rest of my 'Dropping Gojo into fandoms he didn't ask to be in' works 😂

His name is Soren and let's just pretend its Valyrian when in actuality it's just one of my favorite Fire Emblem characters (I feel like Gojo would appreciate that though, prolly a Soren stan himself lol)

His dragon hatches in his crib and idk I headcanon that Rhaenyra would wait to let him name it himself because she probably did the same with Syrax? But then 2 yr-old Gojo is like 'her name is Blue Eyes White Dragon' and Rheanyra is like 'wtf no' and also, this is why you shouldn't let kids name their own damn dragons. Rhaenyra refuses to let him name his dragon after what she doesn't realize is a Yu-gi-oh card, and in they settle for Sylvion, which she thinks is just some obscure Valyrian word/reference his 'Uncle' Daemon taught him, but is in fact a Pokemon that bears striking resemblance to his dragon. It's one of Dreamfyre's eggs, mostly bright white, with blue accents and some slight pink in the membranes, hence, Sylvion. Which is also Gojo's favorite pokemon, so he's two for two with references in this life.

He knows damn well that Daemon is not his Uncle, and they (Rhaenyra, Daemon, Laenor) all know he knows even if they collectively don't acknowledge it. He's Daemon and Rhaenyra's 'accidental brothel baby' that she had to get shotgun wedding'd to Laenor for, which is why he's much older than canon-Jace.

The age gaps are: Satoru/Soren (0), Aegon (+2), Helaena (-1), Aemond (-2), Jace (-3), Luke (-4) idk if Joff or Daeron will be in this.

Aegon is in love with him literally at first sight. He's going to PINE FOREVER. Like so much angst when he realizes he doesn't just adore his nephew in a purely platonic sense - which his mother/grandfather already dislike - but is in fact homosexually and audaciously in love with him lol. He definitely tries to fuck himself out of his own gayness, which absolutely does not work, esp when he starts ending up gravitating to regular female whores to male whores who all bear a striking resemblance to his nephew.

Does Gojo know? Hmm yes but not really. It doesn't even cross his mind even though he is also very gay, and also knows incest is casually a normal thing in the Valyrian family. But to him, Aegon is his uncle, and also a man in a 'don't say gay' world, so he kind of intentionally doesn't look too deeply into it. He does notice Egg is very attached to him, but he's not sure how much of that is familial and platonic and just Egg's very handsy personality versus romantic. They played a lot together as kids, slept in the same bed etc back when they were young enough it didn't mean anything, and obviously Gojo never felt that way about what he thought was a 'cute sticky dumpling of a kid who thinks he hung the moon' so it'll be a longgg and difficult shift for him to see Egg in any other way.

Aemond worships him in a strictly platonic sense that totally feeds his god complex. Gojo is literally the warrior reborn to him. He's a one man army and everyone knows it and he's so out of any mortal's league instead of being jealous about it Aemond just straight up adores him like a god. Daemon and Laena don't get together in this fic (RIP Baela and Rhaena) so Laena is still alive and has Vhagar, so idk maybe Aemond has Vermithor.

On a related note, everyone worships him as a god (or a Valyrian devil, *ahem* Hightowers *ahem*) bc to them he may as well be one. He has all his OG powers, he's invincible and untouchable and literally unstoppable. He achieves infamy the world over during Stepstones Round 2 where he absolutely obliterates an entire army and a few islands besides. He straight up asks his 'grandfather' Corlys if he should just eradicate the whole island chain and permanently solve the problem. Of course, the story gets convoluted with the whole medieval 'he said she said' chain of communication so there are plenty of non-believers still. LOL jokes on them.

He adores Rhaenyra. Like he likes Laenor a lot, and is partial to his little brothers (yes Jace and Luke exist, idk if they're Laenor's or Daemon's yet tho. They would't be Harwins bc Rhaenyra took one look at Gojo and was like 'shit he's 100% Valyrian its gonna look weird as hell if his siblings dont look like him at all') and has a soft spot for his 'Uncle' Daemon, but the reason he even bothers to stick around and not just fuck off to Essos to raise his own empire is because of her. I headcanon Gojo to have zero relationship with his parents in JJK - which unfortunately is expected from 'the patriarch' aka his father, but deeply hurt him in regards to his mother, who also cared nothing for him. Yes total double standard, but that's patriarchy for you. Anyway Rhaenyra is the opposite - she cherishes him from day 1, and whether that's because she truly loved him at first sight or just loved the idea of a child of hers and Daemon's who knows. But she doted on him and took care of him in a way anomalous for mother's in Westeros, and Gojo always took note of that. He'd burn the world for her - or in this instance, cower it into submission so she can have her throne in peace.

He doesn't mind playing the 'radiant prince' for her, being the faultless and impossibly perfect heir to the throne, because he knows it strengthens her claim immeasurably when his achievements so obviously outshine her direct competitor (Egg, who in fact does not give a shite about the throne and just wants to run away on his dragon with Soren). He even quietly submits himself to the idea of taking a wife because he knows that's also expected of him, although he plans on copying Laenor and having some threesome magic going on. Will that have to come to pass though? Hmm idk yet

THERE WILL BE ZOMBIES. No Night King, but I absolutely believe that Gojo accidentally would become the Prince who was Promised. His birth once again upsets the balance of yet another world, and shifts events into motion that would have laid dormant otherwise. Does he bring magic back into world with his birth? That would be interesting. Idk yet tho.

I also believe in the Maester conspiracy, so that might be in this fic too

[dollypopup]

So, I wasn't gonna post anything about this, honestly, but because I was directly asked, here's my 2 cents!

First, I want to thank you for saying you trust me with this! I'm also on the ace-spectrum, and I'm a queer, bisexual woman, so I do have a lot of empathy with you and everyone else who was down for queer rep.

(Also, I do not have Anon turned on for my asks. I absolutely respect your privacy, but I've been harassed before, and if people want to come at me, they can do it with their whole chest. Similarly, if people want to come TO me, I'd love to be friends!) I want to start off with the fact that whilst I understand that you believe the article, I don't. Call it the skeptic in me, or my media literacy classes during my grad program or denial or what have you, but we live in a huge era of misinformation. A tabloid is not likely to be any kind of reliable source, and a random reddit user even less so. It's like making a balloon full of pudding and having a clown say it's helium. We're not going to know until the needle pops it. Surely, no one would ever lie on the internet.

That being said, as much as I yearned and wanted for Demi Colin to be confirmed, it's not set in stone, and so it couldn't have been taken away from us. Honestly, even being ace-spec, a lot of the HC of Demi!Colin started putting a bad taste in my mouth when I realized that a lot of this predominately cishet fandomw as doing it as a means of keeping Colin 'pure' for Penelope, and that struck me as incredibly acephobic. Sure, they were HCing him as one of us. . .but not because it fit with his character or provided a rich and interesting arc for him to explore, but more so that his identity was an extension of their hopes and wants for Penelope. It wasn't for him as a character, but for him as a prize. And that made me so very sad, so my dream of Demi!Colin died when I saw that happening so frequently. Us Demi and Ace folks deserved better than that, and we continue to.

Either way, I think you are absolutely allowed to feel your disappointment! This is a frustration safe zone! There was a lot of potential this season, especially for Colin, that I feel has been dropped. But even IF that article contains some truth (big, heavy IF). . .idk, I see it through the lens that lot of us Demi folks have had sex. Even no strings attached sex. I know I have. Was I disassociated from it for a lot of the time? Yeah. Was it satisfying? No. But did it happen? It did. I chose to take part in it, and they were experiences that helped me grow. And I am no less Demi for it! IF this article is true, instead of us freaking. . .I feel like it could tell us a lot about Colin's character.

He is a man who has had, largely, no good role models in his life. Not in this regard. Who does he have to guide him? Anthony? Literally said he should have taken Colin to brothels. Benedict? Hell, he had a threesome himself. Why wouldn't Colin be out here thinking 'This is what Men do, this is what my brothers do, why not?' Colin is young. He's 23 still trying to find himself. And the entire idea of 'oh, he's a nerd! no way he's had threesomes' lol, like nerds aren't kinky? Come on, I'm a nerd and I've done way more than people would assume I have. He was traveling for months, and I think this really isn't as huge a deal as we're making it out to be. I ship Polin exclusively, and I love the idea of them having their firsts together, but I'm also not angry otherwise. In my mind, he's still demi. Just like he'll always be ND, even if it isn't confirmed.

Sidenote, o want to touch on something that is somewhat unrelated to your post, but something I'm seeing a lot is the whole 'it's dehumanizing for him to watch two women!' or 'it's lesbian fetishization!'

from the very bottom of my heart, as a gay woman, people saying that can eat me. These are the same people who didn't care about any of our representation, before. They didn't care about having lesbian characters, didn't bring them up. Now that it affects their (largely) het pairing, and specifically Colin as a perfect prize in a pairing he has largely been denied a narrative within, we're talking pieces and pawns for their discontent? No, I refuse. There are legitimate criticisms that can and should take place about Bridgerton's lack of care toward wlw, and especially that our only representation may actually just be a lesbian performance for the sake of a threesome, but this is not a criticism on COLIN. It is a criticism on the PRODUCTION. Because if we had queer women in the series before, it wouldn't be an issue. However, I refuse to have my sexuality used as a 'ewwww gross! look what they're doing! isn't that soooo wrong?' gotcha moment by people who just don't like his character. If we're gonna have a conversation about it, we should have a conversation about it based purely on our actual desire to protect and care for queer women. Not using us as stepping stone soap boxes to prop up an argument.

Queer people are really done dirty in the Polin fandom, and this is proof of it. Demi!Colin is important to me, and he continues living on in my heart and my fics, and even if it turns out that he's fucked up and down the Amalfi coastline and watched live porn, that won't make him less demi to me, personally. Ace spec people's experience with sex is all unique, and honestly, watching seems very in line with Colin's character. I don't agree with peeps who call it weird or gross that he watches porn.

This is an incredibly puritanical fandom, and I find it more and more evident as I spend time in it. The entire 'suffering' 'penance' 'deserve her' 'grovel' train was already very clear in that regard, and then people only wanting Colin to be a virgin so he remained 'pure' and 'untarnished' (legit takes I had to read with my own eyeballs) for Penelope was so Catholic on main that it made me feel insane.

Us ace-spec peeps deserve to be and should have the space to be upset at any developments taking place! We also deserve to be free from people doing pseudo pearl clutching and hiding behind feminist and queer-friendly language to disguise that they're just upset that Colin is getting anything at all in his storyline that centers around him and his own discovery outside of Penelope. Even if he isn't a virgin, he can absolutely still be Demi, Anon! And I hope that brings you some comfort.

Am I a fan of the threesomes foursomes moresomes and live porn speculation? No, not particularly. Am I livid furious throwing up about it? Also no. This series has betrayed me and disappointed me in so many ways, but so has the fandom. I guess I'm accustomed to it, now. But I want to reiterate that we should not believe everything that is posted. Some rando on a reddit forum confirming a tabloid article does not investigative journalism and peer review and confirmed sources make.

But in the event that the season does disappoint and gives us some baffling storylines: this is where fanfic can be such a comfort. It's how a story lives on in perpetuity. I've written trans!Colin and queer!Colin and demi!Colin and virgin!Colin and bdsm!Colin and all sorts! We can give we everything we want. It's our playground and it's meant to be fun.

But over my dead body will I believe a Sun UK article lol

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I have so much work to do, it isn't even funny, and here I am, doing none of it. So, instead of just sitting in front of my computer and letting anxiety eat me up, I'm going to see how married life is treating Minglan.

I have three shows that I am actively watching right now. It's a battle to choose which one to watch at any given time. The struggle is real 😫

***

Well, he's feeling energetic the morning after 😅

***

LMAO, OK, so I know that the implication here is that he has great stamina and wore her out, but, honestly, my first thought was that she must have been doing all the physical work of their first night together, so she's now tired and he's up and about doing acrobatics 🤣🤣

***

LMAO, I'm on her side here!

Sleep above all!

To hell with the shitty in-laws.

***

What a thing to tell your newly-wedded wife!

Yikes 😬

***

LMAOOOO 🤣🤣

Hopefully he, ahem, learned other skills at the brothel instead 🤣🤣

He's so fully of nonsense, I cannot 🤣🤣

***

Ugh, these vipers.

The sooner they move out, the better.

***

Who?

***

AGAIN, WHO??

Honestly, my stance for this drama is that anyone who wants to commit suicide should be allowed to 🙄

***

Wait, is she implying that Gu Tingye is sleeping with this woman?

Because, seriously? SERIOUSLY??

Now they are straight-up lying to stir up trouble in their marriage! AND THIS IS, LIKE, THE FIRST DAY!! 🤬🤬

Minglan, don't be an idiot. Don't believe them!

***

Oh, and the lot of you are soooooo worried about how some random servant who is sleeping with the master of the house is going to live 🙄🙄

I cannot with the what-the-fuckery on display here 🤬🤬

GU TINGYE, WHERE ARE YOU?

THIS IS SLANDER!!

***

Even if any of this was true, WHO GIVES A FUCK??

OK, so, personal story time. Skip for TMI, or something. IDC.

When I was nineteen, I was living away from home for the first time in a dormitory and I had these roommates. I was a very stupid, naive, sexually inexperienced, frontal-cortex-still-entirely-udeveloped nineteen. I was studying architecture, the hours were ridiculous, the living conditions were atrocious (and I mean no hot water, communal toilets for the entire floor, no privacy whatsoever, perpetually drunk, eternally partying next-door neighbours bringing creepy men over, it was absolute hell with no recourse) and I was really, really struggling to keep afloat.

My self-esteem also wasn't the greatest and I'd spent my entire teens feeling unlovable and unattractive because, idk, I didn't look like Naomi Campbel, and was told from numerous sides that being some random average girl was just not enough. My mental health went down the drain that year and it never really recovered. I hadn't been doing particularly great even before that, but it was like that whole hellish mess snapped some final thread in me and it was just a downward spiral after downward spiral for years after that. It took an additional ten years to get diagnosed and put on meds because everyone is just so stupid and when you are young, you don't know how to advocate for yourself, or even that you should be doing so.

And then there were these roommates.

There were three of them, all older than me, and we lived in this tiny twelve-square-metre room with three single beds (two of them had to share because one of them was a friend who was there "illegally" because she had lost her right to accommodation for repeating the year and didn't want to go back to her parent's home for the time being and I was too stupid to put my foot down, report her and tell her to fuck off). The two legal ones were sisters.

And let me tell you, I was so in AWE of them! All three were tall, beautiful, put together and confident! They were incredibly popular and had men crawling all over them. I felt pathetic in comparison. I wasn't jealous, not exactly, I just felt inadequate and held the two sisters on this incredibly high pedestal because they seemed so smart and gorgeous (not so much the friend, because even though she was beautiful too, she had this self-absorbed, self-centred, flighty, shallow character that I just couldn't respect). The sisters, however, were everything I wished I could be, especially the younger one.

That particular sister, let's call her M, was also studying architecture. She was in year four (compared to my miserable first year) and she was doing so well, her work was amazing. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was the epitome of elegance, intelligence and beauty in my eyes. She could do no wrong. Hero worship was in full swing, I couldn't imagine she could be any more perfect even if I tried.

And then a few months into our hellish living arrangement, I found out that she was fooling around with this worthless guy who was cheating on his long-term girlfriend with her. They had an on-again-off-again relationship. They had broken up before because he refused to leave the official girlfriend, but for whatever reason, she was in love with his mediocre ass and kept going back to him. I was shocked when the whole story came out. There she was, the most perfect girl I had ever known, letting this cheating loser string her along like that. It was gross.

Let me tell you, that pedestal I put her on came crumbling down so fast because even my infatuated, naive, sleep-deprived and chemically imbalanced brain knew this was very wrong (it took me several more years and another incident with a woman I was super close to and had adored for years to teach me not to mess with cheaters and the people they cheat with because they are always fundamentally deficient in some hidden (or not so hidden) ways and that whatever damage they have that lets them act in this way will eventually drag you down too, but I digress).

In my shock, I asked her, why? Of all people, why him? This girl was so gorgeous, she could have had any man on the planet. She said they were in love. And I asked her, if he loved her so much, why didn't he break up with his girlfriend (mind you, the girlfriend fully thought they were getting married sometime in the near future). It seemed so obvious to me, if he truly loved her, he should have ended his previous relationship and dated her openly.

AND SHE TOLD ME THIS EXACT SAME LINE. THIS COMPLETE BULLSHIT OF A MANIPULATIVE EXCUSE.

Apparently, the shitty cheater couldn't break up with the girlfriend because the girlfriend had sworn that if he broke up with her, she would never marry anyone else and stay single her whole entire life. And he, the poor baby, couldn't live with that, so he couldn't leave her 🤯🤯

I had never heard something more ridiculous in my life. It was so absurd, and it was so world-altering for me that this perfect girl, the girl I had thought was so put together and so incredibly smart, was TAKING THIS UTTER STUPIDITY SERIOUSLY. I still remember it so clearly, even after all these years. It didn't make sense then and it still doesn't make sense now. It's the XXI century!! Break up with the woman you don't love!! What the hell is this nonsense?? WHO THE FUCK CARES IF SHE DECIDES TO NEVER MARRY ANYONE ELSE? IT IS NO LONGER YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!!

Also, all these people were in their early fucking twenties, the absolute delusion that any of her threats (if they were even real and not made up by the loser cheater because all cheaters ever do is lie) were in any way a real and enforceable thing that would come to pass. BUT EVEN IF SHE NEVER DID GET MARRIED? SO FUCKING WHAT? NOT YOUR CIRCUS, NOT YOUR MONKEYS.

And there she was, sneaking around with this garbage man because he gave her this nonsensical excuse. The stupidity is unending. I cannot. I could not and will never be able to can 🙄🙄

And back to the actual show now.

WHO THE FUCK CARES IF SHE NEVER MARRIES? WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT BLACKMAIL IS THAT? FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF AND THEN KEEP FUCKING OFF SOME MORE UNTIL YOU DROP INTO A DEEP BLACK HOLE AND KEEP DROPPING UNTIL YOU REACH THE EARTH'S CORE AND DISINTEGRATE IN THE LAVA.

Ugh.

***

WHO THE FUCK CAAAAAARES 🤬🤬

Also, let's not forget that these are the very people who wanted to murder Manniang and Gu Tingye's actual children with her. They are so concerned with the status of a lower-class servant sleeping with the Young Master and how she will raise her head in public and go on living. So, so, so concerned 🙄🙄

***

Minglan, please tell them to fuck all the way off.

I am beyond pissed.

***

OMFG.

I am beyond sick of these wretched bottom feeders and their "path of survival" 🤮

BITCH, DIE.

***

True! Let's all ask him!!

I am sure he will just love all this slander.

This whole thing is just beyond WTF.

***

What exactly were her parents supposed to teach her?

Just take in some random prostitute for her husband the day after she was married? What the actual fuck is wrong with this woman? Worms for brains, I swear. The audacity is astounding.

***

OH MY GOD, THEN GO DIE ALREADY

I am so tired 🙄

***

This dumb fucking bully.

The best thing that ever happened to women was emancipation and no longer having to live in their in-laws' homes.

***

LMAO, how many statuses do these mistresses that the wife is forced to support even have?

Fuck off with this bullshit.

***

MINGLAN, ARE YOU SERIOUS

***

LMAO, wait, what?

They accused him of raping this woman?

Speechless.

Gu Tingye, please take your wife and fuck off from this place.

***

LMAO, Gu Tingye keeps making good life choices!

Gu Tingye is not among my favourite characters by a long stretch, but I do appreciate him so very much!

Go, king! Protect your wife and stay winning!!

***

Don't you just love it when utterly disgraceful people start blathering about not getting the respect they feel entitled to 🙄

Gross family.