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downtwngrl · 7 months ago

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INTRICATE.

hi so it’s been a WHILE. uhhhh rewatched challengers for the thousandth time and it broke me out of my writers block! i don’t know how im going to continue w this, so feel free to drop any ideas and ill add it to the lore 😈 note: series prob isn’t gonna end with any smut scene bc im incapable of writing one without it sounding stupid asf! but who knows, you might be surprised

cw: 1.4k words,,, art and reader are dating but fighting, set in stanford era, tashi is NOT injured, patashi, hints of reader crushing on tashi but repressing it, fighting, tensiontensionTENSION! basically everyone is friends with one another but they all want each other BAD. lmk what else i should add :)

“it’s complicated.�� that’s what you say every time someone asks you what your relationship with art donaldson is. and it’s true— you guys are fiery, but not explosive. complex, but not convoluted. it’s just… strange. intricate. hence, complicated.

you think he’d probably say the same thing, but there’s no real way to know, since you can’t exactly ask. the two of you aren’t on speaking terms right now, and for the same reason you two stopped talking last time, and the time before that.

art donaldson can’t split his time between his girlfriend and his fucking best friend’s girlfriend. and you can recite the argument quite well, maybe even word for word; it’s still fresh in your mind, engraved there.

“c’mon, you can’t just keep ditching me for her. it’s annoying, and it hasn’t just happened once or twice, you know.”

“i know.” art sighed, a hand tangled in his hair as if to ground himself. your name fell from his lips, voice cracking midway. “what do you want me to do? she needed help with her physics homework.”

“she can get one of her fucking groupies to help her! she’s a big girl, she doesn’t need to rely on you.” the way you said it, mocking and condescending, was mean, and you know it. you don’t hate tashi— you can’t even bring yourself to dislike her. but it hurts every single time you text art on your motorola and get hit back with some half-assed variation of ‘helping tashi. sry :( i’ll come later.’ he never actually shows up at ‘later’, which only rubs salt in the wound.

art’s jaw ticked. his eyebrows furrowed and eyes darkened in a way you’d only seen once before, when someone was talking shit about tashi in the cafeteria. you had watched as she calmly reassured art that is was fine, that he needed to relax, but he only shook his head and clenched his fists. in that moment, you wondered if he ever got that angry if he overheard someone talking about you. you now doubt it.

“don’t talk about her like that.” he said it calmly, but your skin still prickled. “she’s an accomplished lady. what about you? what have you done?”

if you sounded condescending before, it was nothing compared to how he sounded then. you scoffed away the sinking feeling in your stomach, blinked back the sting in your eyes. there was a lot you could have said to him then: ‘i might not be half as good at tennis as she is, but that’s less embarrassing than being second-best to her boyfriend.’ or ‘i didn’t compete for her number and lose.’ hell, even a good ‘fuck you’ would have sufficed.

instead, you just stood there, frozen, as he grabbed his stanford sweatshirt and left.

when you tell the story to patrick, he laughs, and doesn’t stop laughing until you jab him with your elbow, effectively knocking the oxygen out of him. his hands raise in mock surrender before speaking. “sorry, it’s just funny to see him get like this, i guess.”

you frown. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i mean that he likes you, but he likes tashi. i know it, tashi knows it, and from what i heard on the walk here—” he gestures vaguely towards the door to your dorm, “—the school knows it, too. i dunno, i guess it’s amusing ‘cause art has never been so disturbed about this kind of shit. usually he just picks the girl he likes best, but he can’t.”

“you mean he can’t because you’re dating her.”

patrick smirks his signature smirk. you have the urge to punch his teeth out; vagueness is beginning to be a pet peeve of yours. “no, i’ve told him that tashi is free reign.”

the way your stomach flutters at that is shameful. you push the feeling away. “like, you guys aren’t..?”

patrick shrugs. “i mean, currently she hates me because i said i’d go to her match yesterday and i missed it.” these guys really need to stop promising us stuff, you think. “but yeah, when she isn’t pissed off, we’re dating, and we talk about it. ‘bout you guys. she doesn’t really care if the two of you make moves on either one of us.”

you don’t say anything, but your ears feel warm, and your heart is about to explode out of your chest. it doesn’t help when patrick takes that as a sign to keep talking and says—

“i don’t care either.” it suddenly hits you, the closeness between you and him. close enough that you can smell his cologne, one typical of a rich frat boy you’d pass by in the halls. but it feels different, with him. patrick’s smirk has shifted into a grin, a big one. you realize he’s been gauging your reaction, and is thoroughly pleased.

“oh,” you breathe. he snickers, repeats it back playfully. you don’t understand how he’s so relaxed, able to make light-hearted jabs in this moment. art likes you and tashi. tashi doesn’t care if he likes her, or if you like her. patrick doesn’t either. but where do you stand in this?

your phone jingles, the sound muffled from the blood roaring in your ears. you don’t know if you should thank or curse out whoever decided to call you at this second, but you excuse yourself to answer. patrick nods begrudgingly, backs up enough for you to have room to finally start to inhale and exhale again. “hello?”

“hey.” it’s art on the phone. impulsively, you look around, as if he’s hiding somewhere in the dorm he marched out of a few days ago.

holy fuck. “hey!” you sound too cheery to your own ears, and hope that over the line it sounds more convincing. you hear a sigh on the other end, and can imagine art physically loosen. “what, uh— i thought you were mad. at me.”

patrick perks up. ‘art?’ he mouths, and you nod. he attempts to come closer, but you swat at him, moving a few steps away. he pulls a face, but doesn’t move closer. still, he’s definitely trying to hear what art is saying.

“i was.” art laughs nervously, the sound tinny over the phone. “but you’re right. i fucked up. tashi… she isn’t my girl. i need to pay more attention to you, and that’s gonna happen starting now.”

she isn’t my girl. “she could be,” you think aloud. you tense. art chokes. patrick stifles a laugh.

“what?” you pray that he didn’t hear it. you had mumbled it, whispered it, there’s a chance it didn’t pick up. art says your name one, two, three times before you respond.

“sorry, i just zoned out a little.”

“no, you said something. baby, what’d you say?”

“i said ‘you should be’. like, you should be paying more attention, dumb joke, i was trying to sound threatening,” you slap your free hand against your lips to stop your word vomit, then your forehead as you reprimand yourself for acting so stupid.

art hums. “oh, okay.” it should relieve some on the tension in your shoulders, but it doesn’t. he usually laughs when you fluster, but he didn’t. is he unconvinced, or are you overthinking? “hey, tomorrow can you come to my practice at noon? we can go to the cafeteria after, i’ve got wayyy too many meal credits.”

you look to patrick for help, but he shrugs, enjoying the moment. “sure.”

art says his goodbyes, goes ‘mwah!’ through the phone (which usually makes you laugh, but now you feel bad), and once you say bye, he hangs up.

“i’ll go to his practice, too.” it’s never a question with patrick (or with tashi); he just lets you know. “tashi’ll be there. she’s always on the court when she’s free.” you find it endearing that he knows her schedule.

“tashi.” you like the way her name rolls off your tongue, but you’d rather die than admit it.

before you can say anything else, patrick walks over, swings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. “don’t forget about what i said.” his breath smells like spearmint gum, the type art is always chewing. maybe he gave him a piece. “just think on it, yeah?”

you nod, and he pats your cheek before walking out the door, leaving you feeling dazed. after a few moments of just laying on your bed, soaking in the conversation you just had, your phone dings.

we’ll see u tmrw :-) -pat (&tash)

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers x reader #challengers #came to me in a dream 😋#not proofread we ball

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holy-puckslibrary · 1 year ago

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━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.”

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something.

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.”

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face.

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain��t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second.

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips.

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat.

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?”

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside.

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.”

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?”

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.”

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.”

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?”

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth.

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.”

“Why? Because you already are?”

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose.

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor.

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs.

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother.

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why.

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance.

“Who died and made you king?”

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.”

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.”

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved.

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.”

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out.

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.”

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas.

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.”

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend.

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth.

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.”

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely.

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?”

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass.

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite.

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.”

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.”

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood.

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back.

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.”

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.”

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.”

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten.

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump.

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another.

At least this one’s easy on the eyes.

⤑ to my inbox💌

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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powdered sugar nose

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'cooking together' rated: M wc: 711 cw: food as a way to flirt, allusions to sex, fade to black sex tags: established relationship, fluff, subtle praise kink

🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧🥧

The pie wasn't turning out right, and Steve was trying not to panic.

Wayne only asked for one thing for his birthday and it was this pie that Steve had assured him he could make.

"Glaring at it probably doesn't fix it, sweetheart," Eddie said from across the kitchen.

"Well, it's the only thing I haven't tried," Steve put his hands on his hips and stared down at the burnt crust.

"You know, Wayne would understand if you can't do it. I'm sure he'd be fine with a cake."

"I'm not fine with a cake! I promised pie and he's getting a pie!"

Eddie threw his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay! Can I at least try to help?" Eddie started rolling up his sleeves.

"Fine. But if this one doesn't turn out right, you're banned from the kitchen."

"Deal."

They worked for the next 30 minutes or so, layering the crust along the bottom of the pie dish, making sure the blackberry filling was the perfect consistency, that the crust being layered on top was done in the exact design from the picture Wayne gave Steve.

Eddie, admittedly, was good at this, his years of delicate work on mini figures making him more than patient and pay close attention to detail.

He read out the recipe for Steve, taking it one step at a time so it felt less overwhelming.

He gave Steve kisses on his neck or shoulder every time they finished a part of the recipe, not letting him get distracted, but letting him know he did good.

Steve smiled to himself, actually enjoying the process of it all now. He felt like he was zoned in on making this pie perfectly.

Once it was in the oven, he set his timer and took in a deep breath.

Eddie lifted him up onto the counter, peppering his neck with kisses, leaving him gasping and giggling.

Eddie's kisses turned into bites, then sucking on his skin, finding every sensitive spot between his jaw and collarbone.

Steve moaned long and loud, throwing his head back as Eddie marked him up.

"When this comes out perfect, I'm gonna fuck you right here," Eddie groaned, holding his hips still when Steve tried to push them closer.

"What if it doesn't?"

"It will. We made it together."

Steve melted, leaning in for a much slower kiss, not quite as hungry.

They were both worked up, more than Eddie probably intended, but they didn't go any further, neither of them willing to risk ruining the pie.

When the timer went off, Steve was resting his forehead against Eddie's shoulder while Eddie rubbed his hands up and down his back.

"If this isn't right, I might cry," Steve sighed, pulling away so he could get off the counter.

"I might cry with you."

Steve opened the oven door, took the pie out, and carefully placed it on the stove.

"It looks...right."

Steve almost couldn't believe it.

He poked the top to make sure it stayed sturdy unlike the first one that collapsed the second he touched it.

It did.

"Holy shit. We did it."

Eddie's arms wrapped around him from behind, his lips brushing against his cheek.

"We did. Told you. Just needs the powdered sugar sprinkled on top. Would you like to do the honors?" Eddie let him go as he spoke to reach for the sifter.

Steve lightly dusted the powdered sugar on top, unable to stop smiling at what they managed to accomplish.

Eddie reached a hand over his shoulder and stuck a finger in the powdered sugar in the sifter.

"Hey!" Steve yelled, turning to face him with his brows furrowed.

Eddie poked his nose, leaving behind a circle of powdered sugar.

"Looks sweet enough to eat," Eddie smirked.

"No pie until tomorrow," Steve pointed a finger at him.

"I wasn't talking about the pie."

"Oh," Steve blushed, turning back to the pie to set the sifter down on the counter. "Well, it did turn out perfect..."

"It did..."

"So..."

Eddie lifted him up and set him on the farthest counter from the pie.

"Think I need a taste to make sure you're sweet enough," Eddie reached down to start unbuttoning his pants.

"And if I'm not?"

"I try again tomorrow."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #cooking together

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pet-pet-peet · 2 years ago

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For the 100 follower event can i request the pocky game hcs like the dorm leaders but with the vice dorm leaders this time? If thats okay

👉👈

I’m very down, vice dorm leader requests = bat daddy requests Story: When visiting you in your world, you introduce him to pocky and say you have to play the pocky game since it’s pocky day! * This is female reader, but I generally don’t use many gendered terms in my writing..just know that I’ll opt more for feminine ones if I add any (aka, probably good for anyone, but the occasional gendered term will be female) Tw: lots of kissing and intimacy, Lilia's is a bit spicy as always, ORTHO IS INVOLVED BUT HIS HAS NONE OF THE PREVIOUS THINGS MENTIONED HIS IS WHOLESOME AND PLATONIC AND THERE IS NO PHYSICAL TOUCH INVOLVED

Pairing(s): Trey, Ruggie, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Ortho (platonic I promise), Lilia x female reader playing the pocky game (separate)

𝕿𝖗𝖊𝖞

He’s heard of something like pocky before, but he’s never tried making some

Probably asks if you want to make some with him so you two can try it out and see how it goes; ends up being pretty fun!

After making sure they tasted okay, you told him about the pocky game and it had him curious, he asks you to tell him more

After your explanation, he smiles kindly and asks if you want to play it

You both bite your respective ends and muffle a “three..two..one!” Thus, the race begins

As you almost reached the halfway mark, Trey took a big bite and beat you to it, looking at you with a mischievous gaze

Your pouting only made him feel more accomplished, and he quickly agreed to a rematch

You put a piece of pocky between you both and continue the rematch

This time he got as close as he could before pulling back suddenly and laughing a bit, saying you won

Every turn after is a mixed bag of reactions from him, but he definitely keeps you on your toes

𝕽𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖎𝖊

This little shit- don't expect anything fair..

He's honestly not too interested in the idea of a pocky game, he doesn't think you should play with food

That said, he did get kind of curious when you explained it to him

He would agree to only one round, but he wouldn't do anymore (for free)

You put the pocky between you both and both of you bite down on your respective ends

Then no one moves- you both just stare at each other while holding pocky between

You decide you'll go for the kill, but figure out you actually can't move

Ruggie laughs at your puzzled expression

He uses his unique magic to just make you give him the stick of pocky and he eats it quickly before you could do anything

Pecks your lips before getting up and leaving with the rest of the pocky

𝕵𝖆𝖉𝖊

You ask if he's ever had pocky, to which he says he's heard of it but never had it

You then make a terrible mistake by asking it he wants to try it by playing the pocky game

You have his curiosity, so he asks you to explain the roles; he listens intently with a calm smile

He requests that you demonstrate what you're meant to do, his smile grew as if he was talking about his beloved mushrooms

You go ahead and set the game up between you two

You start taking slow bites towards the center, but notice that Jade's not moving at all

He stayed like that for a bit longer, just watching you chew closer and closer

At some point, he puts his head on your chin and gently pull you closer, giving you a short kiss

He smiles innocently when you pull away, saying he thought it was an interesting game and that you two should play more

Sits silently like a menace as he "innocently" watches you stumble over yourself

𝕵𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑

He doesn't usually have much time for games, or himself..or you for that matter-

But anytime he can be around you, he wants to make sure you're satisfied

Kind of concerning, between worrying about Kalim's need and worrying about your needs he doesn't seem to have much time for himself

So you decided that this would be a good way for him to let loose a little

You both sat under a tree, his head laying on your lap as you both shared a box of pocky

You asked him to just hold one in his mouth, so he did while looking at you with curiosity

He lowkey got flustered when you leaned closer and ate at the pocky, he almost choked on it, but he kept in that position

You made it to his lips and kissed him sweetly, he returned the gesture but was a bit confused on your approach with it

You told him he should have more time to just be, and not have to worry about satisfying people

He was slightly embarrassed about being called out, but he let you take care of him a bit more afterwards

𝕽𝖔𝖔𝕶

He was on board as soon as you mentioned that there was a game

No hesitation, he put a pocky in his mouth without even hearing the rules

When you asked if he wanted to know them, he shook his head and stared at you expectantly

He watched as you started to eat the pocky, but he didn't move

When you were about to touch his lips you pulled back, which confused him

You laughed at his thoughtful reaction and proclaimed victory, making him think even more

In the end he just laughed and congratulated you for your victory

Endless praises as he asks in a chivalrous way for a rematch, which you accept

It essentially was the same as the first round, which made you feel a bit bad since in your mind he clearly didn't understand the rules

Head went empty when he pulled you into a kiss before you were able to back away, though

𝕺𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖔

He noticed you always talk about pocky with Idia, so he found a way to make some for you!

Brought out his (slightly burnt) homemade pocky sticks during one of your binge nights with him and his brother

You ate them regardless of their faults, but felt a bit bad that Ortho couldn't indulge in his creation too

So you asked him and Idia if they wanted to play a game with the pocky!

Idia was a bit on the fence but asked for you to explain the rules

You distributed an even amount of pocky to each of you, saying that whoever makes the best creation (via Magicam poll) with the limited amount of pocky in 30 minutes wins

Both brothers seemed interested, so you set the timer and all of you rushed to stack pocky pieces

It wasn't the easiest, since pocky didn't exactly like to stay in the positions you put it, but you gave it your all

Ortho had the advantage, as he could use a small laser to melt the chocolate enough to stick them together

Magicam agreed, as Ortho's cute little pocky cabin got majority of the votes

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆

He was incredibly curious about pocky since it's not something he's experienced

In all his travels, never once had he heard of it, so trying the snack from your world was something he was very invested about

Especially with how much you seemed to gush about it

As you pulled a box out and toward him, he noticed a cute slyness twinkle in your eyes, and you mentioned a game

He asked for the rules, so he knew what he was getting into; it was inevitable that he'd accept the challenge

He made sure to run his fingers over your scalp and behind your ear, attempting to fluster you as you took your positions

Otherwise he played fair for the round

Playing fair doesn't mean going easy, he gave it his all and it payed off

He won and gave you a celebratory kiss

You probably don't play anymore rounds after, he'd rather take the intimate opportunity to make out with you

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #ortho shroud #ortho shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

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lyca-universal · 2 months ago

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The Beacon : the curse of Hope

Since I got updated on Castle Swimmer, I got back into it to see if I could find elements to theorize on. And I got a mindblowing revelation on the VERY first chapter of Castle Swimmer ! That's what I wanted to share here ^^

At this moment the God of the Surface is talking about Kappa's role as the Beacon. But when you pay close attention to what he's actually saying : "There are many prophecies in this world, you will have a key role to play in each one."

A "key role" to play in the prophecies ! It is NEVER stated that his role was to FUFILL them ! Him having a KEY ROLE in the prophecies isn't the same as him having to FUFILL the prophecies.

Later this episode, Kappa was pulled to a Castle, and that's where he got to know that people expected him to fufill a prophecy. And then It's fair to guess he assumed that it was what expected from the Surface God aswell.

Sure, that was what the prophecy states.

But now we know with our current informations that the prophecies are actually created by the will of the people. They're not to take at face value at all. (At least when it comes to discuss God's will)

That also got me thinking about the actual title of "Beacon", because what is a "Beacon" to begin with ?

"A light that shines for other". That's all, a light that can guide people. People can follow it in order to find their way, but in the end they have to make the way THEMSELVES.

The Beacon isn't SUPPOSED to actually DEAL with the prophecies, but to be a light that would help to make it true. Symbolically, I see it as a light of hope to keep people going.

In time of despair, the "Beacon" is something they can rely on to keep up on hope. Especially since a lot of despair came from the minigods and Labbu.

Maybe that was why the Surface God created the Beacon, as a way to oppose Labbu's destruction and help people bellow.

I think in general tho, the comic also show how "hope" can become a curse, how people tend to entirely rely on "The Beacon" instead of taking care of the problems on their own. Because it's way easier than doing the hard work ourselves.

I find this aspect deeply human, the need to rely on something which would be a symbol of hope in order to not confront our problems. It's understandable, but not viable. As reality end up being way more complex and the process end up taking way more time and effort than what we would hope.

In my opinion, this is what the flyfins represents in its most extreme and cruel form.

It is implied that the flyfins don't feel safe and like they belong where they are. That would explain why they rely so hard on the Beacon in hope for a better future. But instead of finding a way to accomplish that on their own, they make it Kappa's burden.

(Yeah between you'll never find me defend this Fizz of shit. In a character/meta perspective find him really well written and fascinating, but as an individual I deeply DESPISE him)

I'll finish up by going back to speak about the Surface God. If everything I said is true, why didn't they make it clear to Kappa much earlier ?

Well, it seems like they were not able to speak to him soon after he was born.

But interestingly enough, Kappa is called the "child of the Surface God" by the minigods, and this title makes him much more important in the eyes of God.

But I think it also imply that the Surface God would care for Kappa, as a parent would care for their child.

And my last thought was : What if the bubbles are actually a manifestation of the Surface God looking for Kappa as much as they can in their current state ?

Yes, I'm wondering if this was even deeper foreshadowing than we thought. Especially since we know now that Wendy can make REALLY EARLY foreshadowing xD

And as a final argument, there was this moment when Kappa reached the blue empty water while he tried to reach the surface. Then the bubbles appeared and guided towards the surface God. As if it was God's way to "speak" to him, quoting Selkie.

That's all I wanted to share so far ! Thanks for reading until the end ! <3

#castle swimmer #webtoon #castle swimmer webtoon #Kappa the beacon #wendylianmartin #castle swimmer theorie

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kteezy997 · 1 year ago

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The Other Man-Part Two// t.c.

Warnings: infidelity, smut, oral sex female receiving, unprotected sex, coming inside of reader, cursing, Timmy giving reader a nickname

After your encounter with Timmy, he took you home in the early morning. You were sleeping in bed when your husband woke up, so he was oblivious to the fact that you had even been gone.

You barely got any sleep, though. Visions of what happened between you and Timmy kept playing in your mind over and over. You couldn't believe it happened and you couldn't focus on anything else. It was a struggle to get anything accomplished at work. All you wanted was to see Timmy again; to feel him next to you, to hold his hand in yours, to have his luscious curls tickle your skin. Fuck, he was taking over you.

You texted him while on break at work. "I can't stop thinking about you." you wrote.

Immediately, he responded, "Me either. Best night I've had in a long time."

You made sure no one was around to see you typing the next message to a man that you weren't married to. "When can I see you again?"

Timmy again was quick to answer, "ASAP please."

You blushed and giggled at his eagerness. You told him you'd call him later after work.

You were walking out of the office, your phone in hand and tapping on Timmy's contact when Billy called you. "Fuck." you hissed, annoyed more than anything. You answered, "Hello?"

"Hey babe, I thought maybe we could go get dinner tonight?"

"Really?" you asked, surprised. He never wanted to do date nights.

"Yeah, well, my boss wants to go out so we can have some drinks and dinner and discuss some business. His wife will be there and so I thought I'd take the opportunity to show off my hot wife, and maybe you could mention what a hard worker I am."

You winced. You could practically hear Billy's arrogant smirk through the phone, this wasn't a romantic gesture at all, it was about being a big shot in front of his boss. "Actually, I'm getting together with my friends tonight. Sorry."

"Aw shit. Okay, well, I guess I'll talk to you later then. Bye." Billy said, then ended the phone call.

god he's annoying. you thought.

The phone rang only twice before Timmy picked up.

"Hey there." he greeted you, acting all flirty.

"Hi. So, last night..." you began, not really intending to say anything more, you just aimed to get a reaction from him.

Timmy chuckled, "Last night? You called to talk about last night? I thought you wanted to see me, y/n."

The last thing he said wasn't question, he said it as a statement because it was. It was a fact that you wanted to see this man more than anything. No other discussion needed.

"Yeah, I do." you admitted, giggling like a school girl.

"Alright, how about tonight?" he suggested.

"Yes, please. We can do anything." You sounded desperate; you knew it. But you didn't care when it came to Timmy.

"Will he be home?"

"No. Business dinner with his boss. He’ll be gone all night.”

"I'll come over."

After making it home, you got prepared for whatever the night may bring. You didn't know if you the two of you were just going to hang out casually and watch tv, or if he wanted to go straight into fucking your brains out.

You wanted to be ready for either scenario. You curled and fluffed up your hair, put on some light makeup, there was no need for anything that would just be smudged later. You spritzed on some of your favorite perfume and put some lotion on your legs, making them silky smooth. You put on your most expensive lingerie, the set that Billy hadn't seen, and over that some cozy loungewear.

Your heart raced with excitement when you heard the knock on the door.

"Hey Timmy." you beamed as you opened the door, revealing his handsome face. He wore a simple outfit, just some jeans and a black hoodie.

"Hey, you." he stepped in and kissed you on the cheek, his hands met your waist. “You smell fantastic.”

You nearly melted against him but composed yourself. “Thank you.” you smiled, “Come on in, let's sit down." You took his hand, leading him to the couch in the living room.

"So, uh, Billy hasn't suspected anything?" he questioned, sitting down with you.

"No! He had no idea I was even gone last night." you rolled your eyes at the thought of Billy, not wanting him to spoil anything with Timmy.

"Good. I mean, no offense to your husband, but he's definitely not the most observant person." he shook his head, closing his eyes. "Fuck, what am I saying? I have offended this man already. Like in the worst way: I've slept with his wife." Clearly, he was a bit troubled by your shared secret.

"Timmy, stop." you said, cupping his chin, making him look at you. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't feel ashamed or guilty. Billy will never know, okay? Your girlfriend won't know either. It's just between us." You spoke softly, hoping to comfort and calm him.

"That's just the thing, y/n. I don’t feel bad, like at all. I'm so fucking into you. And I know I shouldn't be, but I think that just adds to how bad I want you.” Then there was the sight that was becoming all too familiar: him gazing down at your lips, as if he wanted to kiss you so badly that he couldn’t bare it. “It’s like we're forbidden to each other or something."

"Because we are." you pointed out.

"Right." he turned to you, leaning in close. "But I don't want this to be over." He put his hands on either side of your head, gingerly weaving his fingers through your hair.

"I don't either. I just want you." you expressed, placing your hands on his arms. "Please, just kiss me."

Without another word, Timmy pulled you in to a hearty kiss. A kiss that warmed you from the inside out. And in that moment, you realized that this was possibly more than lust. It was more than just being desired. Maybe Timmy was a piece missing from your life. You couldn't think of the other two people that would be affected by this affair. You just couldn't at this point in time. You needed to be selfish. You spent too long worrying about others, mainly your husband. And you never got anything in return from him.

Now, here was this perfect man that you had longed for, in your home, ready to make love to you, and be there for whatever you needed.

Timmy rolled his tongue in your mouth, and he tugged on your clothing. You insisted on going up to your bedroom and he agreed.

You wasted no time getting undressed and he instructed you to get on the bed. The same bed your husband slept in, just this morning, now you were naked with another man on top of it. It thrilled you.

Timmy spread you legs, kneeling between them. He slid his hands up and down the slickness of your legs. He pressed a kiss to your calf, “That scent, is it peaches?” he smirked.

You bit your lip, nodding.

Timmy let out a little chuckle. He then moved further down, and put his mouth on your clit. He started licking slowly and softly, like he was savoring you. He massaged his tongue there, making you squirm a little. You started to moan when you felt him sucking on your clit.

You looked down and watched him. You grabbed his curls gently, not pulling them. You heard soft little smacking noises coming from his lips on your wetness. You whimpered.

Then there was the flick of his green eyes looking up at you. The sexiest eye contact ever. It was so sensual, him looking into your eyes as his lips caressed your clit.

All of this reminded you of the things that your husband had never done to you. Or at least hadn't done in ages, and definitely not as well as Timmy.

"You okay?" he asked, stopping his oral performance.

"Yes," you panted, "why did you stop?"

"Just checking in, sometimes you can't tell when a woman moans or cries or whatever. I didn't know if it was too-"

"Fuck me now, Timothee." you requested.

"Oh, my full name, huh?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully and tapped his chest with your foot.

“As you wish." He said, nestling himself between your legs. His cock was already hard, and he slid it into you.

You sighed in slight pain, but you welcomed the stretching caused by him. His chest was pressed against yours, his arms on either side of you. Your arms laced around his neck. He bucked into you hard and fast. Both of you were panting and moaning. Timmy kissed you, and you gasped as he bit your bottom lip, breaking the skin and making it bleed.

"Fuck Timmy." you cooed as he moved down and sucked on your neck.

He put his forehead on yours and held you tighter, fucking his hips into, filling the room with the filthy sounds of your love making. You moaned wildy.

"Shit, I'm gonna come. Ahh!" Timmy crooned. You saw his brow furrow and his lower half shook your body. His face was flushed and the veins in his neck were visible. Suddenly, you felt his warm cum leak deep into you.

Timmy exhaled and took a moment to steady himself. He then looked down at you, a little smile on his lips.

You grinned right back at him, feeling satisfied. You ran your hands up his back. His skin was lightly tacky and hot.

"Sorry I didn't pull out like last night. I'll get the morning after pill if-"

"No, it's okay. I'm on birth control. Not that Billy and I ever... but yeah. We're good."

"Okay." he grinned at you and kissed you tenderly. “You’re mine, Peaches.”

"Mm," you cooed as he pulled away, "will you stay to cuddle and watch TV with me?”

"Yeah, of course I'll stay."

From that night on, you and Timmy couldn't stay away from each other. You'd text all day long and meet up when Billy was at work or sleeping. Your husband was too oblivious and uninterested in the things you did, so he had no inkling of an idea as to what was going on outside of your marriage.

This went on for about a week or so, and it was now time for game day at your house. All of Billy's buddies were coming over to watch the hockey game, or basketball, whichever sport it was. You couldn't care less. All you cared about was Timmy. He was going to be there. Now, you couldn't just openly jump into your boyfriend's arms and makeout with him but it was always exciting to see him.

What made it even hotter was knowing that Billy would be there. You didn't really care about Billy himself, but the idea of your husband and lover being in the same room felt so dangerous and sexy.

Timmy had texted you, "I don't give a shit about the guys or the stupid game. I'm just coming for you."

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet fanfic

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vacantgodling · 2 months ago

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i'd like to say that this year was more of a planning year than a writing year; not to say that i didn't write; but i spent a lot more time on outlining, worldbuilding, and a new skill that i've added to the fold -- conlanging(!!). because of that, i didn't hit all the goals i made last year but tbh that's aight. without further ado tho:

TOTAL WORDS WRITTEN [january 2024-november 2024]

111,535 (as of 11/15)

once again, if this was all in one place, that would be a full novel but. speaking of full novels:

2024 GOAL STATUS

❌ reach 150k words written overall ✔️ finish cage like it’s GOING to happen i will it ❌ finish the first draft of paramour!!!

so i'm only 1 for 3 and tbh i'm not that mad about it. finishing cage back in february was one of the biggest writing highlights of this year because i showed myself i could do it, i CAN finish something of novel length if i really put my mind to it.

(and yeah, i really did go and get it printed out lmao)

and more than just the accomplishment of writing 82k in one piece, it's also helped me really understand and work out what systems and processes i need to have set up prior to writing to make it work. this is why outlining has been such a huge undertaking for me this year, in varying levels of success (lmao). having a fully fleshed out outline with the literal beat by beat playout of how i want the story to go helped me TREMENDOUSLY in pushing through cage. even on chapters that were rough for me, having that outline to fallback on made it so much easier to stick to a every week one chapter system. and its something i plan to implement with my original wips too.

the only issue is, because original work inherently requires more work since there's no framework except what's in your own head... its been a bit slower for me writing wise. BUT next year i will be operating out of a desperate need for whimsey so i think i'm going to make my goals much.... less stressful than i did this year.

2024 WRITING HIGHLIGHTS

FINISHED CAGE! biggest accomplishment in my life right now tbh. seriously if you haven't and you have any interest in overwatch at all go read it and leave me nice comments while you're at it lol. technically i am working on the interlude piece between cage and its eventual sequel, schism, but that's been kinda slow going as i don't have much motivation to do it right now. first chapter of it is also up on ao3 though -> interlude - quiet

created a conlang??? in a very bizarre turn of events i have created a conlang for my wip with the working title HE WHO SMITES THE SUN (under the tag #s: ph). the language itself is called dzonime'si and if you want to see more of that process check out my #ren fights linguistics tag :)

finished the entire "first draft" of my wip betwixt thumb and forefinger--which is actually an idea that i only thought of this year so that's fun. for the uninitiated it is a gothic reimagining of twilight but with a shit ton more body horror and prochoice commentary. the reason first draft is in quotations is because it is technically a 16k word long outline that i am considering draft one. draft 2 is literally me going bullet point by bullet point and expanding the draft into something more akin to prose. i do have the first few paragraphs of draft 3 started, which is where i'm going to attempt actual prose writing for the first time. pretty much, btaf is becoming a very lengthy process but it's my first "test drive" on how this new outlining to written prose for my original projects will go. i've just gotten... distracted by other wips since then.

2025 GOALS

to be honest, i don’t know if i have many hard goals for next year. mostly because of *gestures at the state of the world right now* :))))))) it’s blatantly obvious that when things are tough, it becomes more difficult to do the things that you want to do that bring you joy. amid trying to just survive the day to day, there’s also my desires to get more involved in bothering the FUCK out of my senators, looking into ways i can be more involved locally (without burning myself out) and just generally trying to not let the state of the world get me down.

i think there’s a lot of things i want to do. i want to finish a bunch of outlines for my wips becuase i can’t tell you how REWARDING it’s been to be able to fully just go back and reread btaf’s outline whenever i like (and have the AMAZING multi leave comments on it like that’s actually another huge highlight of this year thank u friend 💛) and get excited about telling this story all over again. it motivates me to keep doing it! i'd also love to finish btaf's draft 2, maybe try and finish interlude - quiet etc. but—long story short. i don’t think i’m going to put myself on for any particular goals. next year is going to be about celebrating wins in any and every capacity. so all i wanna do is give myself wins.

looking forward to seeing y’all next year, crying about our ocs as usual

💛 ren 💛

#writing in review #about renjamin #writeblr #writing in review: 2024

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dulcewrites · 2 years ago

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Fool Me Once (part 8)

Pairing: Aemond targaryen x reader (once again.. kind of lol)

Summary: Daella achieves a feat, while you reach your breaking point. Startling discovery is unearthed in King's Landing (wc: 5.5k)

A/N: ok… so a lot happens in this part. We have some shit we need to handle. And we are officially getting into the political stuff. I don’t really have much to preface this with but I hope y’all enjoy lmao. Please reblog, like, and follow. Also come and chat if you read anything you like.

Fmo masterlist

Young Landyn Massey turns out to be a much-needed addition while at Dragonstone. Terribly shy but extremely useful. Unassuming, clearly in need of a friend and quiet as a mouse; the perfect person to have to suit your needs.

His fascination with you had seem to spiral itself into hero worship for Quinton. A young member of the Kingsguard that stood out against the few older ones that occupied Dragonstone under Rhaenyra’s behest. He had even gone as far to ask for lessons from him.

“I am sure you can learn something from watching Prince Daemon,” you say over breaking your fast. “He must be tending to Jacaerys and Lucerys’ swordsmanship.”

Landyn shakes his head, blonde curls flopping with him. “He does not teach the princes.”

Quinton and you exchange a look.

“Their good father has not been continuing their training lessons?”

“Most of the training has been overseen by Ser Darklyn, but it is few and far between,” he shovels more bread and jam into his mouth.

For all the faults Daemon has, he is skilled with the sword and an accomplished warrior. Former leader of the Gold Cloaks that has also seen actual battle. Not taking it upon himself to help his sons after they missed years of training is an inditement on their relationship to you.

Dragons to their names are of course assets, but that does not mean their dragons will always be around. Protection for them seems of no concern for them. No protection for the boys, no attention for the girls. It makes you wonder what Daemon and Rhaenyra have been doing the past six years; the priority seems to lie in creating more heirs. Heirs that ironically bluster and hinder Rhaenyra’s claim. She has true born Targaryen sons that stand in clear contrast to ones she had before Daemon.

“I am sure Ser Quinton can show you something.”

Quinton raises his dark brows, and you raise yours back. He sighs, but agrees, nonetheless. Landyn leaves the two of you in the hurry once his lady mother calls for him.

While pouring more tea, you notice Quinton staring at you incredulously.

“What,” your shoulders slump. You lower your voice a bit. “I know it may be a bit much have a kid follow you around, but I think it is from a good place. If you really do not want to teach him anything, I can tell him.”

He shakes his head, before scratching the scruff on his face. “It has nothing to do with him. I want to know what you’re up to.”

You try to put on a look of confusion.

“I know you, and I know where this is going,” he frowns softly. “All I can ask is that if you confront him or ask anything or him, you do it with me in the room.”

Quinton’s distain for Daemon has been well documented since being at Dragonstone. He doesn’t seem to trust him nor Rhaenyra, but he manages to hold his tongue about the named heir. You lean over and grab his hand.

“I will not do anything with Daemon without you knowing.”

He nods slowly, choosing to believe you despite knowing how your impulses and restlessness seems to be carrying you these days. You received a long lecture from him when he could not find you in your chambers one evening. His tone softened when told him that you walked the halls of the castle after not being able to sleep. It was a particularly fussy night for Alaric, who you finally lulled to sleep.

It was not exactly a lie, the same way telling him you would not deal with Daemon without him was not a lie. You did walk the halls, not able to sleep. Since coming to Dragonstone, you have had the most vivid dreams. Fire, blood, rich black hair attached to a faceless woman. It keeps you up at night. Who is she, and what does she want with you?

You left out that you tried to get into Daemon’s study just to realize it was locked.

You don’t plan on confronting Daemon. He is too much of a wild card for that. Why confront him for the truth when there are other avenues?

———

The day flies by and by the night, you find yourself in Baela’s apartments. The two of you in your dressing grown, all ready for bed. She sat at her vanity while you stood behind her. You gently oiled her silvery blonde curls. It was a soothing pastime that you did with Daella too. There was even time that Aemond let you brush his hair before bed. You were always envious of how soft it was.

“May I ask you something a bit… personal,” Baela’s voice cuts through the peaceful silence within the room. You nod, meeting her eye in the mirror.

“How did your labors go?”

The question takes you a bit by surprise. Being a mother is such a large part of your life but having your children is something you push out of your memories. The whole experience was scary enough, not even mentioning everything going on in your life at the time. When you had Daella, there are was excitement but debilitating fear of being a mother. With Alaric, your mind strayed to bringing another child into this mess of a family.

You knew Baela lost her mother lost to do child birth; the last thing you want to do is make her more scared.

“They were hard and painful,” you admit. Upsetting her was not your intention, but lying does no one any good in a life-or-death situation like labor. “But the septas and maesters that tended to me were helpful, and in the end, it was all worth it. Daella took longer while Alaric came fast.”

She nods slightly before looking down at her hands.

“I understand if you have reservations about marriage and children. Perhaps you can speak with Rhaenyra about it. I am sure she had similar worries.”

The suggestion is sincere on your part. If anyone could quell the anxiousness of childbirth and fear over your life being expendable for heirs, it would be the Princess. Baela looks up, something dark flashing behind her eyes. You had always scoffed at the notion of her being like her father. Baela is all warmth and good-natured wit that you assume she got from her mother, but you see him in the look she gives you.

As if she is one bad day away from burning a place to the ground.

“You feel unprepared for it all. That is not unusual.”

You comb through her curls with your fingers. “But on the bright side, you will be our future queen.”

The smile you put on fights to be earnest. The realm will sooner burn than having a clear bastard running it. Jacaerys taking the throne means Rhaenyra managed to get through her reign. Both things seem like far-fetched aspirations.

“Rhaena and I always joke that she has the temperament to be Queen, far more than me,” she laughs, then a mirthless look comes over her face. “We also talked about ruling Driftmark together… when we were young.”

She waves her hand as if to swipe away memories floating around her.

“Well, it technically could be your birthright,” you walk a tight line. “You are the first born twin of the eldest daughter of you grandparents. Of course you would imagine yourself as Lady of the Tides. Especially after your wardship with your grandmother.”

She finally turns to you as you pick up a damp towel to wipe the oil off your hands.

“It is not that I mind Lucerys, not at all but…”

Baela trials off.

“I understand. I am not naive to enough to think that if my lady mother and father were able to conceive another child, a boy, that I would be able to inherit whatever my father leaves for me,” you try to steer the conversation in the direction you want. “It is why when the time comes, I hope that Daella and Alaric are both able to take advantage of the fruits of my families’ labor.”

You brush a stray curl behind her ear. “You are allowed to be upset at father, Rhaenyra, the order of things, or at your situation. You are owed that at least.”

A part of you doesn’t know if you were saying that more for her…. or for you.

Aemond is going to choke his brother to death. It would leave his mother down a child, and his nephews and niece fatherless, but he thinks it would be a necessary evil.

The beginning of the day was spent placating his mother and trying not to strangle his siblings. First, Helaena let Jaehaerys get a hold of one his books on the First Men. He confronted her about the missing pages, and all he received in return was a shrug.

“That is not my problem, brother.”

He was sure he was in one of her moods. Helaena, who normally had the patience and will of several people put together, all but snapped at him. Looking back on it, he should have asked if it has to do with something she saw. She hated to be disturbed immediately after a dream.

The rest of the morning went just as bad. His mother had forced him to break his fast with your parents and her. It might have been nice if Aegon did not show up. Chipper, cheeks flushed, and a letter in hand. He does not say who it is from, but the smugness permeates from him. The whole meal is filled with Aegon making pointed comments, and Alicent trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

There was a sense of relief when both him and Aegon were excused from the table. The older adults chatting about remedies for the cough your mother had mom down with.

“Do you want to go train,” Aegon began to follow him from the dining hall.

“No.”

All he wanted to do was lay down.

“You know, when we were younger, I always hoped you grow out of the moodiness,” Aegon fakes a wistful sigh. “But here you are, a man grown who pouts and sulks his days away.”

Aemond snorted, that was rich coming from Aegon. If it was something he had in common with not only his siblings but with his mother, it was the ability to wallow when they want to.

Alicent used to tell him that certain people were meant to have lingering, lifelong happiness while others had to cherish their fleeting moments. She always said it in the tone that implied that they were the people with fleeting moments.

He ignored Aegon despite his brother following him into his apartments. Helaena was sitting on the couch, large black book sitting in her lap.

“I came to replace the book,” she holds it out, blank look on her face. “It is from grandsire’s collection, but I do not think he will notice.”

She goes to leave, but Aegon stops her. “Please tell our darling brother that he would be so much more handsome if he smiled more.”

Helaena shrugs off the arm he placed around her shoulder. She looks at both at her brothers in mild annoyance.

“Do not mind him Hel, he is just excited his weekly dose of sympathy and attention flew in.”

Aegon’s round eyes narrow a bit. “And where is your letter, Aemond. Or must you get updates on your children from other people.”

“She told me she was not going to right,” the words burn on his tongue and lips. You did tell him it would be better to limit communication. That you would always check in on your and kids’ safety through other avenues. But he feels like an idiot explaining it to Aegon.

His brother has a special way of making him feel that way.

“You two-“

Helaena tries to interrupt their argument.

“I know you worry about what I would do to your wife if given the chance, but have you ever thought about what your wife wants to do to me?”

“Aegon-“

Helaena tries again, more forcefully this time, but it is too late. Aemond shoved his brother, and received an equally rough one in return. He does not remember how they ended up on the ground, but he does remember feeling Aegon’s teeth sink into his flesh.

Helaena stood there for a moment, wondering how this was her life. The sight before her made her feel like she was four and ten again, watching her brothers fight each other in the training yard. Like then, the only thing she could think of was finding Criston. The only saving Grace being the master apartments are near Aemond’s.

Criston sighed at the sight of them but pulled them apart in easy fashion. Years of practice under his belt. The look of exhaustion that he gave them was nothing compared to the berating tone of the lecture their mother gave them afterwards. Auburn curls bouncing as she paced around the room.

It was the typical spiel that Alicent gave her kids when she felt the arguments had gotten too personal. Reminding them that they are family; fights will happen, but there is always a line. They are brothers they will need to depend on each other more than they know. She made them apologize to each other. Aegon and Aemond mumbled out apologies to each other, then ones to Alicent.

Now Aemond laid in bed. A cloth filled with ice lays over his head. Your perfume still lingers on the sheets.

Little does Aegon know is that Aemond does laugh and smile a lot. In the privacy of his own space, he is endlessly amused at how his life has turned out. The irony of the situation is not lost on him. It sits dip in his stomach daily. His days are spent rotating the same thoughts and people in his head.

You, the kids… her.

There was a time that meeting Alys was considered a breath of fresh from the monotony that plagued his life. He knows you would never believe it now, and perhaps he cannot blame you, but it did not start off as affair. Or even looking for one. The map was something that sat in the back of his mind for years till one day he just needed to get out. The day he met Alys gets fuzzier and fuzzier as time goes on. As if someone asked him to draw someone he had not seen in years from memory.

He strangely started to understand Aegon’s attempts at getting out of the castle. Having something that was just for himself. But in the end, nothing is ever just for him. There were moments he should have noticed something was not right. He is smarter than that. Maybe it was the common sense that ironically kept him so dense.

If he admitted it was too good to be true, if he questioned it the way he questioned everything else, the happiness would be ephemeral. And as manufactured of the kind he was used to.

Alys asked about you. He always chalked it up to sheer curiosity. He was curious about the men she had been with, why would she not wonder about the woman he had children with.

“At first I thought it was the blonde woman I kept seeing,” she comes and stands behind the chair Aemond was sitting in. “Then the more I saw her, the more picked up on the resemblance.

A gentle hand works up his back, and dances across his neck.

“She is pretty.” The hand worked its way into Aemond’s hair. “But the other woman I saw… oh, she is much more my type.”

Alys tugs his head back gently. A languid smile traced across her face. A smile he has grown accustomed to. Alys saw and knew so much; there was a slight thrill of not knowing what she was thinking all the time. But the biggest rush came from her honesty with him. Though knowing she thought about his wife left his throat feeling tight.

She lets go of his hair to sit near the fire, green eyes trained on the flames.

“If I only I could see her more…”

He wanted to ask what Alys saw when you showed up in her fires. Aemond is so selfishly interested in his wife through the eyes of other, even now.

The three of you will forever be deeply intwined. The roots of a dead tree bonded together till the rot finally takes over.

As days begin to blur together while at Dragonstone, you notice how restless Daella has become. Her energy and ability to strike up interest anything and everything was nothing new, but something felt different.

She begged and pleaded to see a different part of the island. You use it as an excuse to get away from it all.

Daella chats away, while skipping down the steps. She enthusiastically points to dragons flying around the fortress. It something you had have to get used to. At least at King’s Landing, to see any dragons you would go to the dragon pit; a secure place. Here, they fly and move amongst themselves. They are the true inhabitants of the island, everyone else are the guests.

She rattles off fact Rhaenyra had told her about Syrax. A bright look in her eyes.

Your daughter is so painfully good natured, it makes you wonder what a cruel image of fate for her to be born into this family dynamic. You like to believe she will grow up to be the good parts of you and Aemond. Same with her brother; praying that your mistakes will not eventually be theirs.

Once you two clear a rocky path, you swing towards the back of the castle. It was a back passage that Jacaerys had shown you one day.

“I want to see the flowers, please.”

You laugh a bit. Septa Margery had been trying to instill in Daella that being a lady requires saying please and thank you. Now most of her orders are at least followed by one of the two.

“We can see the garden, but you need to promise me you will eat all of your f-“

A guttural roar breaks up the conversation, and you freeze. It sounds closer than comfort. The ugly and throaty nature of it reminds you of Vhagar. A cry to send fear through those who hear it.

A large breath of hot air hits your back. It takes a moment for you to finally turn around.

“Oh, fucking hells,” you breath out.

The dragon has to be almost as large as Vhagar. Bronze scales with large tan wings. Golden eyes lock in on you and your daughter. You feel the tiny hands tug on your dress, and a face burying itself behind your thigh. The dragon begins to stalk slowly towards you, like a cat cornering a mouse.

This is not how you want to die, at the behest of a dragon. It would be twisted fate for that to happen. Far from home, on an island you hate with people you try to tolerate. Your children need you but you need them alive more than anything. She does not budge. Instead, she peaks her head from behind you.

The dragon stops in its tracks for a moment, and stares. Yellow eyes zeroing in, gray teeth shows as it pulls its mouth back.

“Daella, I need you to go,” you reiterate once the dragon begins to walk again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Caraxes’ distinct red scales circling around the scene in curiosity. You cannot make out his rider on top of him.

The bronze dragon in front of you comes closer, as you try to take small steps back. It extends his neck, and you close your eyes expectantly. This is it you think. Your demise. You say a small prayer for everyone. For Alaric to grow up well, and your parents to not mourn you too deeply. You pray that Helaena lives a happy life, and Aegon finds his purpose. That Alicent’s life gets a bit easier. You do not want Quinton to beat himself up over this. You even send a thought out that Aemond finds some peace in his life so can take care of his son. You especially pray the Mother forgives for putting your daughter in this situation.

A loud screech blares out from the dragon as you feel the wind of breath brushing fiercely against you. You squeeze your eyes shut harder, waiting for the inevitably to come but it never does. By the time you finally have the courage to open your eyes the dragon has flown away. Rush past the castle and towards the mount.

The tears that welled in your eyes fall as you watch in confusion. You know little about dragons and chose to keep it that way. But from small doses you do know, you had never heard of a dragon pausing when it could likely eat you if it wanted.

A sense of dread pools in your stomach as you look down at Daella who had come from behind your leg, and stares towards the Dragonmount.

— — —

The event earlier has been on your mind all day. To the point where your palms inched to write Aemond. If anyone would tell you want you should do, it is him. But you worry a letter addressed to him and sent to King’s Landing would not go through proper channels. You had managed to keep all your letters back there almost farcically lighthearted in fear someone was watching you the way you are watching this family.

An idea pops into your head as you search for parchment to write on. If you cannot write to King’s Landing, perhaps a letter somewhere else may work.

A soft knock breaks you away from your writing.

“Come in Quinton.”

He always checks in on you before you go to bed. When the door opens, it is not inky brown hair that catches your attention, but instead bright blonde.

Daemon is still in his dragon egg gathering gear. Stipes of red and black adorning him. Quinton’s words ring out in your ear. Where is he?

“I hope I am not disturbing you,” he smiles softly. You pull your changing gown around you and shake your head.

“I heard the most interesting story about something that happened earlier today,” your heart sinks as he sits on the bench in front of the bed. “It seems that one of the dragons that normally inhabitants the Dragonmount has gotten out.”

You know you have two choices. Lie or admit to what occurred.

“Oh Gods, well I hope nothing bad has happened.”

The mirth on his face only grows. “You are odd little bird aren’t you.”

He gets up and comes behind you at the desk. Your eyes instantly go back to floor. He sighs as if he was hoping this conversation would go better, that you would choose diffently.

“Vermithor will notnstop till Daella acknowledges him as her dragon. He has not been around people for quite some time.”

A lonely, unruly dragon could wreak havoc if not claimed properly.

“She is just a girl,” it sounds pitiful as soon as it rolls off your tongue. But it is the truth. She is a little girl, your little girl.

“She is a Targaryen,” Daemon rebutted, “Being a dragon rider is a part of her blood. Not many get this opportunity.”

Your mind strays to Rhaena, and how much she hopes for a dragon. How much she hopes it will manage to make Daemon into a better father.

“You do not have to give me the ‘it is privilege to have the blood of the dragon’ speech. This is not about my daughter embracing something. It is about another dragon being accounted for.”

Daemon chuckles at your boldness, softly then louder. The laughing goes on longer than is comfortable.

“I am sure you have noticed how fond our future queen is of you. It would be of your best interest, and the best interest of your children, to understand what advantages can come from that,” Daemon’s voice lowers. “Creating the best future for your children includes aligning them with those who can properly take care of them.”

There something left unsaid in the air. Daemon speaks in riddles and tones that makes everyone feel like they are not in the plan.

“Daella and little Aegon could be betrothed,” his words make your head snap up at him. “And in the future, mayhaps that will benefit her and you.”

You flitch when you feel his hand brush your hair from your shoulder. The urge to let out blood curdling scream creeps up your throat.

“I trust that in the end you will make the right decision. It would be such a shame if something… bad were to happen because of it.”

Daemon leaves without another word. You had never felt colder in your life. A wave a nausea rush over you.

That night when you try to sleep, it is not the faceless woman who haunts your nightmares. It is Daemon, covered in Rhaenyra and Aegon’s blood. Crooked smile on his face and Dark Sister in his hand.

Aemond wakes to commotion in his room. He feels fingers pitch his nose, leading him to gasp for air. He expects to see Aegon standing over him, instead the figure is taller, skinner. A deep frown on his young face.

“Daeron?”

He is wearing Hightower green riding armor, hair askew from what Aemond assumes is the wind. Aemond glanced outside the window and sees the sun just starting to come up.

“What did you do?”

The question makes him stare at Daeron for a fraction too long. He’s sprouted up like a weed the way Aemond did when he was that age, all limbs. With blonde curls he makes no effort to tame like Alicent. Aegon’s smile and Helaena’s nose. Aemond likes thinking of his younger brother as a sum of all their parts. All their best parts, not muddled by life.

He thinks about Daeron of all people being upset with him, and a bile works up his throat.

“Because you can imagine my confusion when I get a letter from my good sister saying she is at Dragonstone, without you, and that she is now worried because and I quote ‘her little girl might have claimed a fucking dragon’.”

Aemond’s trance seems to be broken at that.

“Daella what!”

Aemond reaches for what is it Daeron’s hand, but he moves his hand away.

“What did you do,” Daeron asks again, this time softer.

“We are having problems.”

It is the simplest way he can explain it. It is too early in the morning, and his mind is still on his daughter possibly claiming a dragon. There is a feeling of relief of one of the kids reaching that feat. He knows the situation is not the same thing, but he would never want either of them to feel the inadequacy he did growing up without one.

Daeron sighs and sits on the bed next to him. “Apparently she claimed Vermithor.”

Aemond brows shoot up in response.

“Even your kids can’t do anything small,” Daeron laughs, before growing quiet again. “You need to fix this. All of it. Whatever it maybe.”

Daeron also inherited the light spirit Aegon had as a boy. Anger and frustration are not things that bog down the youngest child. Aemond knows he is upset by the serious look on his face.

—— —

Alicent was woken up by guards alerting her of Daeron’s arrival. The joy of seeing her son was quickly replaced by confusion and worry. Daeron always wrote before he came to visit.

“I just missed my siblings, and you of course,” he said brightly, giving her a kiss on the cheek before scurrying off to see his brothers and sister.

She knows there is something more, there always is with her kids. But her mood had only improved even more since seeing him. She naively wanted to embrace her son, who she misses dearly, without having to fret over why he was there.

Alicent always felt like she had to fight to keep her head above water. Lately, she felt like she could breathe a bit easier. She tried not to lend it to the letters Rhaenyra had been sending her. It made her feel like a girl again, in the worst and best ways.

Rhaenyra would mention something baby Viserys had done, and it was easy to forget the years of bad blood. Other days, she would mention Viserys the elder or slip in Daemon’s name, and Alicent could not help but think - sometimes I have not fully forgiven you.

She cannot fully put aside the years she spent alone at court. A young mother without her father. She cannot fully put aside the blatant lies. Alicent knows Rhaenyra does not make these mistakes or steps over others for malicious reasons. At least she convinces herself of such. But Rhaenyra does expect others to go along with the lies, even at the expense of their own safety. Some days, Alicent is sure selfishness is the only thing Viserys decided to pass onto his daughter.

But then Alicent thinks of Rhaenyra’s smile, and one always manages to spread across her face.

Their relationship is not perfect, but then again it has never been. Even in the throes of innocence when they were girls. So, she takes the letters in stride and writes back with the enthusiasm she reads in Rhaenyra’s.

Alicent goes to make her rounds to see Viserys. Over the years, she had assumed it was her sole duty to take care of him herself. The reigns had been lessened over the past few weeks. She let the maesters tend to him more, as she tried to prioritize her time to other avenues she lost over her girlhood.

She had begun drawing again, reading literature that had nothing to do with the Seven Kingdoms or diplomacy. It was nice. Entirely too nice. She should have known the Gods would punish her because of it. When she walks into the King’s chambers pass the lint covered model.

“Viserys,” she calls out softly. He is flat on his back, eyes closed. He is always irritable after being woken up, but he needs to try and get something on his stomach.

“My King,” Alicent tries again, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Viserys had not smelled right for over a decade, but something felt different this time. Slowly, Alicent leans her head over his chest, trying to her the murmur of a weak heartbeat. Seconds of silence go by before Alicent snaps her head up in shock. She covers her mouth as a choke sob fights its way up her throat.

Their were times she dreamt of this day. Of being the one that finally ends this cycle, smothering him in his sleep, slipping some poison. Even something with gore like a knife to his good eye, as revenge for her Aemond. But now that it is here, all Alicent feels is cold all over.

Viserys is dead, and she is once again alone.

You do not remember when the sleep walking started. It feels silly blaming your sleep problems on Dragonstone. A building you have no connection to changing your mood. The trip you insisted you must take leaving you debilitated.

The first time you catch yourself in the hallway. The next time in the dining hall. Quinton had insisted on making his night shifts longer, but you refused, not wanting him to lose precious sleep because of your bad habits. Your lack of sleep had made you snappy, and even more paranoid. The nightmares do not help. All you see when you close your eyes is black hair, and green eyes. The faceless woman image started to become clearer.

Shocking chill is what makes you wake this time. A flush of panic watches over you when you look down to find the bottom of your night gown in the water of the beach. The sun in beginning to rise over the horizon. Drudging yourself through the water is paused when you notice a figure on the beach.

The figure is wearing a flowy grey dress. Black hair, red lips curled into a smile. You blink wondering if you were still in the nightmare.

When you open your eyes, you then notice the sharp blade in the woman’s hand. It is a familiar knife. Sparking silver handle with a big sapphire on the end.

Aemond blade… the knife you got him for your first wedding anniversary. It all dawns on you. Who the woman in the nightmares is. Alys.

Your vision blurs red. You are tired of being someone who bad things happen to. Perhaps it is time to make bad things happen.

Tag list: @florent1s @floraroselaughter @afro-hispwriter @snh96 @holy-minseok @voniikg @evienorville @tremendouswolfsaladranch @crispmarshmallow @strawbrryquinn @widemiffyhappy @msmarvel-19 @dc-marvel-girl96 @xkennobi @fanfics4ever @hydrationqueensworld @lyra689 @blazzlynch @httyd-marauders @bregarc @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @mercedesdecorazon @flowerpotmage @bstorn @poisonedsultana @papery-maniac @its-sam-allgood @yu3kkii @hvx @leoramage @neenieweenie @stargaryenx @rey26 @lazypinkpig @blackravena @s0urmarvel @elleclairez @rebelfleur22 @inpraizeof @luvremlu @clora95 @blacpiink @let-love-bleeds-red @iwanttohitmyself @alastorhazbin @kitkat-writes-stuff @carrielle @aloneatpeace @ensolleildelune @landlockedmermaid77

#prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen angst #aemond fic #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd imagine

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egg-emperor · 28 days ago

Note

"I just don't like when people see them as one in the same"

Oh that's absolutely an understandable problem. Like Jimbotnik is a great re-interpetation of Eggman and what went on in 3 works for him, but its not really something that Game!Eggman suffered from so much as "why the hell do my parents all care about a dead girl?" which pretty much just shows his self centered attitude in a worse light. Like I get they're the same character, but they're written with enough differences for their respective mediums (its part of the why Stone would NEVER work in the games canon or comics but works perfectly for the films).

Hell I wouldn't even say this is a problem limited to Jimbotnik, people have done this shit with Boom!Eggman and Archie!Robotnik even though one is the most lighthearted while the other is detestable even by Eggman standards and is more machine than human at that point. Sorry if this sounds like yapping I just wanted to bring this point up because you're right on this.

Yeah I feel it should be pretty simple, everything would be better and much more peaceful if everyone was on the same page of understanding the adaptions are very different from the games and we're free to have our opinions on whether we like that or not. But discussion gets too often convoluted by people acting like they're one in the same and making it so much more complicated than it needs to be

Like I spend way too much of my time talking about adaptions having to say the games are much different and relay the facts, even though it should be obvious and if it was, we could talk more about the actual contents and differences between both versions and the things we like and dislike about them. But it's hard to get anywhere with that when people are saying they're literally the same

But yeah I can kinda believe all the stuff in movie 3 was consistent within the movieverse. But the stuff about his childhood has lead to those who can't separate and see the differences between the movie and game characterizations to think it applies to game Eggman too and that's my gripe. It's not really saying anything about what I think about the movies compared to certain parts of the fandom

Because it's such a stark opposite instead that it harms perception and discussion of his game character to see them as the same. Game Eggman has always been very secure and genuinely believed he deserves all the love and attention to the point of being like "ugh why is everyone always talking about my terminally ill child cousion who tragically died? hellooo, I'm right here being brilliant and perfect and worthy of your praise so give it to me"

And that's very compelling for game Eggman and I really like what it says about him, just how deep his narcissistic egotism and entitlment goes, and how genuine and long term it is for him and is such a strong motivator to accomplish his goals and the reason they exist in the first place, to make everyone recognize the brilliance he knows he has and hail him for it. While jimbotnik has his very different ways others like and find interesting too

And yeah this doesn't just happen when it comes to the movies compared to the games, it happens with every other adaption despite them all being very different from the games too so I'm always sure to discuss it there and emphasize that too. My main focus and priority every time is just to help people understand game Eggman's differences and why he's so cool and loveable for it, whether you also like his other portrayals in other adaptions or not

#asks #dr. eggman #eggman #dr eggman #dr robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie

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shadowqueenjude · 27 days ago

Text

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Thank you @crazy-ache for tagging me!

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

232,213

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Three. I have my Nesta gets a gun fic ( I SWEAR i’ll finish it lol), my regency snowbaird fic called How to Restore a Duke’s Fortune, and my elucien fic A Court of Sight and Tulips

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

It’s probably my Eris Vanserra one-shots here. I managed to make Eris insanely cunty and hot😩

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I mean honestly, anything smutty that I wrote (which isn’t much). I’m ace spectrum so I generally don’t read much smut and writing it is a pain, but I’m getting the hang of it now!

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Honestly surprised that all my Azris/Eris Vanserra content was so popular (thank you @talibunny30 for commenting on my fic❤️) so I guess this means I’m writing more azris in 2025!

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

I wasn’t expecting a whole lot of engagement because it’s a little niche, but I am OBSESSED with my story The Illyrian Princess. It’s about Emerie fighting for the Illyrian women and it also features one of my favorite rarepairs Emerie/Nuan!

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

@thrumbolt @copypastus @works-of-heart @majuandrad @lucychanart @sad-scarred-sassy @dimalry I love y’all’s art you’re SO fucking talented and you make me scream with every piece you make!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@positivelyruined @crazy-ache @olenvasynyt @sad-scarred-sassy y’all make me SCREAM with every word you write💕💕💕

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

Pretty much everyone is new to me because I’m very new to fandom LOL

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

YES. I wrote When the Steam Settles with my wife @sonics-atelier , which is Rhysand x Cassian plus a little bit of Azriel! It started because we were kind of joking around about how homosexual some of the things the bat boys said to each other were, and we were making jokes of things that would happen between them and then we got the idea to actually write a scene with them!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

I used to quickly post my fics without editing them because I was afraid I’d chicken out and cringe at what I wrote, but I’m finally rereading and editing my fics now (which basically started bc i wanted my secret santa gift to be perfect)!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

That kudos and comments are not reflective of quality. I know people say that a billion times, but it’s true and something i still need to internalize. I’ll write the most jaw dropping fic and have 2 kudos and a comment and then I’ll write some shit while high at 2 AM and get 70 kudos overnight. I can assure you that at least one person enjoyed your fic and you should write it for yourself and that one person who loves your stuff :)

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Try not to overwhelm your writing with nonstop dialogue or nonstop description. If you find yourself doing one of those things, change something up. If you have too much dialogue, describe facial expressions or a shifting in posture. If you have too much description, add a small conversation.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

To finish my WIPs, LOL

Tagging @kateprincessofbluewhales @positivelyruined @sonics-atelier whoever wants to do this!

#writing games #tag games #my writing

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riddle-me-fear · 22 days ago

Note

Hey ed, why did you switch from suits do flannel and messed up tank top?? did you sell the suits to make the race tracks or did your fashion taste just change??

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

Spoiler Warning! - Major spoilers for Batman Arkham Asylum & Batman Arkham Knight

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

Edward sighs and rubs the part of his nose that's right between his eyes, lifting his glasses a bit, as that is exactly where it rests.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Oh not this again, listen, I was going through some shit, ok?? And no! Of course I didn't sell my suits, those are custom tailored! I- I was in a dark place, you don't understand- How do you think I felt when I- when he...

Something about Ed feels strange. Off. He was known for his sudden impulsive outbursts, but this is very uncharacteristic for him. His voice is shaky, hands trembling, and his eyes seem glassy somehow. Is he about to cry? Jon moves closer to comfort him.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Ed... ya don't have ta talk about it if-

Edward sniffles, rubs his eyes and sighs deeply.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

No, no... It's fine. I should- I have to talk about it. Maybe it'll lift some weight off my shoulders. You know?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Ya can stop any time.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Right, so... Ahem... Ahumm, mmh... How did we get from suit, tie and bowler hat to flannel, dirty mechanic vibe and the whole racing obsession? Take your seats, folks, this one's going to take a while.

So... Jonathan and I have been an item since before the whole "Joker takes over Arkham Asylum"-incident. If you remember, during that incident, Jon got... badly hurt by Killer Croc and... uhm... Well, of course I found out, I was actually the first non-participant to find out, keeping up with every single thing Batman did. And that... it... I... I need a break.

Edward leaves for the balcony and Jon follows him. They remain there for a while. You can hear Ed blowing his nose outside. After several minutes passed, they return to the living room sofa.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Right, uhm, where was I? Ah, yes, me just seeing Jon nearly having his body split in two by Croc's jaw, witnessed through Bats' little gadgets. I wouldn't have believed it, if I didn't see it with my own... God that image is engraved in my brain still... Well anyway, this very much distracted me, made me make several mistakes and ultimately get caught by the Dark Knight, or well, ratted out by him to the police, who locked me back into Arkham.

Right... So... So I was left to my thoughts, which I usually very much enjoy, but this time I wished there was an off-switch. I kept spiraling, in denial that Jon was truly dead, hearing his body still hadn't been found on the goddamn news every fucking day it- It was tough. I cursed my stupid feelings for him, which I wished I didn't have in that moment, more than ever before. I've been sent to solitary on several occasions, because I wouldn't stop crying and screaming during some nights. It was actually Pamela that pulled me back upon my feet, probably for the sole reason of her being annoyed beyond measure by all this. Both of us escaped, and I set up a new hideout.

Then the whole Arkham City bullshit happened. Still no information on Jonathan, but I did find Waylon. It wasn't hard to accomplish at all, the guy isn't the brightest and not the best at hiding, especially when you know he'd most definitely be in the sewers somewhere. I don't remember much of that conversation, my mind was blinded by rage and grief. I swung at him, again and again, punched my knuckles bleeding. Probably did only as much as tickle him, but it took some steam out of my engines. And Waylon just stood there, taking it. By the end I cried, he cried, it was a whole mess. You know, most people, like the Bat-family, the police, the fucking Arkham staff, they don't think some of us Rogues give a shit about anyone but ourselves, and couldn't care less if one of us died - that belief is definitely popular with people that have opinions about me. Which is such pure and utter horseshit! Just because we don't give a crap about most people, doesn't mean we can't care about others. Look at the Joker's death, that even affected Batsy himself. Badly. But we're not there yet. So, Waylon apologized a million times, saying he didn't know, he was blinded by rage, thought it was Arkham staff or police he was attacking. He's still apologizing to this day. He probably has the kindest heart of all of us, I almost felt bad for all the things I yelled at him. What came from that whole thing of which I am SO glad nobody but Waylon and I witnessed, was him offering to help me look for Crane.

And so, well, hmm... Jon and I have ways of communicating in secrecy, which we especially established for the possibility for situations such as these. As you could expect, I was glued to the screen on a constant, waiting for a signal, a message, literally anything we agreed on, while Waylon scouted the waters, and my goons were on the look-out for any other signs anywhere else. The way I fucking lost my shit when one of my henchmen came to me, complaining about a crow not leaving him alone- You have no idea of the composure I had to maintain in order to not break out into tears right in front of my underlings. I ordered to bring the crow to me, and the second I was alone with it, the flood gates opened wide.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

An' Nightmare's been attached to ya ever since. She musta really felt it.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

She was my only comfort then... Hhh... Mmh... Another break?

Some several minutes later, Ed and Jon return, refreshed and ready to continue.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Alright. So, Nightmare had a ring around her foot with a code on it, which I immediately deciphered as a location. Crane's hideout. I won't get into the details, but the reunion was, phew, all over the place, I went through all the stages of grief all over again, back and forth, I think I intentionally kicked your broken leg, didn't I?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Ye sure did. An' immediately apologized after. Fuck, what a night that wus.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

One HELL of a night, yes!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Fuckin' all night, you been cryin' all night, but kept yellin' at me not to stop, it wus a hot mess.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Oh "hot mess" describes it perfectly, alright. Things were looking up from that point, even if it took me a VERY long time to get used to the way you looked. But, being demi-sexual, I found the appeal, since you were still, well, you. That was, until your borderline obsession with flooding Gotham with fear. Can we just both agree right now, that that was a horribly IDIOTIC plan?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Ya said that too when ye first heard it.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

AND I WAS RIGHT!! Anyway, once Gotham City failed, Jon rallied some of the Rogues together, me included, telling everyone of his grand master plan. And then he joined the game. Enter: The oh so mysterious Arkham Knight. You know, I'm so glad it was Jason, because I absolutely HATE that guy's guts.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Yeh, ya were so mad, ye locked yerself into the old orphanage.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

I'll admit it, I'm the jealous type. The very jealous type. And it certainly didn't help that you'd ignore me, only spend time with HIM and set your plan in motion, while Bruce was going fucking insane on me as well. Yes, you let me have my fun, spreading my riddles around town, messing with the Bat long enough so you could succeed in your endeavors.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

But ya got lonely.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Of course I got fucking lonely! Nobody paid any attention to me! Not my own boyfriend - that I thought had DIED, I just wanted to emphasize on that. Not any of my friends, as they got out of town with the other citizens, and also not the man himself, because he was too busy handling family drama and stopping you! Sooo, you can imagine I kind of lost my mind just a little bit.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Tiny bit.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

A nano-bit of insanity data on my hard-drive. So, I went with a flannel. Why? It's Jon's, that's why. The shirt underneath? Jon's. The pants? Alright, those I stole from some guy working on train tracks. I just customized the flannel a bit. I looked like I hadn't showered in weeks, because the clothes still smelled like him. And, as disgusting as it sounds, being covered in dirt and sweat reminded me of him... Made me feel like I was closer to him. Like I said, I was nowhere near alright. ...And the car thing, eeeh that happened on a whim of madness. I wanted, craved Batman's attention like nothing else, since I didn't want to ruin Jon's plans and couldn't focus on him. So I did anything I could think of, kidnap Batsy's favourite kitten, so he'd come find me, play any game with him I could think of, and that simply included race tracks. I had no ulterior motives whatsoever.

Jonathan looks over at Ed, raising an eyebrow.

Alright, I did train Batman on how to get through several obstacles to get to you, because I secretly wanted you to fail, and I'm sorry, ok? I already told you that. And that's all there's to say to that, I believe. Batman is exposed, but still brings the both of us behind bars, you're an anxious and terrified mess, and I have to admit, I did enjoy you suffer that moment. After that we got transported to a newly restored Arkham Asylum, or as it's now called, Arkham Rehabilitation Hospital. So pretentious. Jon got his face fixed, somewhat, there's lots of scars all over it now, but you no longer look like a walking corpse. Although I do know you liked that. Both you and I slowly returned to our senses, enough to recognize ourselves again, at least. And that's the story of why the change of appearance, and why the races. Needless to say, I'm back to suits now.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Pretty long fuckin' speech fo' such an easy question. Heh, hya, ya know what's been crackin' me up most 'bout that whole thang after tha fact? That ya pretended ta be outraged an' disbelievin' that Batman is Bruce Wayne. When you've known this whole time.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Just goes to show what a brilliant actor I am, and that no one truly knows the real me. No one but you, that is. And Bruce, a little. Very hard to hide anything from that guy, just as he has trouble hiding anything from me.

Right, that took a while.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

How ya feelin'? Lighter?

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Yes, as a matter of fact... Huh. Well, dear Jade, this definitely wasn't the answer you could have ever expected, but it's the answer you got. And it was quite therapeutic simultaneously. Haaaah, now I'm in the mood for something sweet. What say you, I take you out on coffee and waffles?

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

How could I eva say no ta that.

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