#it was perhaps a bit ambitious of me but Oh Well

[yardsards]

Forever mourning that we would’ve had a scene in the finale where the protagonists apparently reach a resolution with Odalia on some level??? It got cut so Camila could take her place and hell yeah more for Camila, never gonna apologize for that. But man it’d have been nice to have both. The Odalia-Collector storyline set up in CotH was evidently going somewhere there but in the end the finale was already extended ten minutes past the usual mark.

Also yes plsss on the twins! Emira my dearrrrr you were molded into the new Odalia into the next showman matriarch while your sister was meant to become the next Alador the next moneymaker!!! What are your thoughts what if we had a storyline about you being your own person!!! I have to acknowledge that there’s always someone who’s going to have to take the fall for another character to shine at this point in the story but man.

i'm actually mostly happy with how things ended with odalia. i really like that amity never forgives her and continues to go no-contact with her. far too often, media does a "but they're your PARENT, it would be wrong to cut them out of your life" message, and having that be the dominant cultural narrative can be really harmful to victims of parental abuse. so it was VERY refreshing to see a story that said "this character going no contact with her abusive parent was the right choice"

that said, i think there could have been a way to give odalia's storyline more of a resolution without tossing that down message down the drain.

see, you know how i've complained before about how making odalia a full-on villain really undercut her storyline as just an abusive mother. how it accidentally kiiinda had the implication of like "the abuse on its own wasn't enough to cut her off. she had to be willing to kill literally her entire race in order to earn that." which i don't think was intentional.

i think it would have been cool if the resolution to her arc was like. she's no longer a full on villain. she helps our protagonists and makes up for her involvement in the big plot. she's technically on our side now... but that still doesn't make up for the abuse, and amity still is better off without her in her life.

i'm imagining a scene of like, after odalia helps the gang with the collector in some way, she talks to amity. says something like "i will admit that you were right, for once. helping with the day of unity was a poor business decision on my part." and maybe even a "these months with the collector have shown me you weren't such a bad daughter" perhaps followed by a pompous "so i will forgive your little outburst at the factory and accept you as a member of my family again" (despite, y'know, being the one who got cut off)

so amity goes off on her. says it wasn't about the day of unity. or, at least, wasn't JUST about the day of unity. that it was about the years of being treated like a puppet rather than a person (cue some kind of clever shot of the collector's puppets). she says that he friends have shown her what real love is supposed to look like, and her time with camila has shown her how mothers are supposed to treat children, and that none of odalia's actions have matched that. so she says that no, she will not be allowing odalia to be her family anymore.

and odalia doesn't understand, just keeps arguing that she only did these things because she wanted what was best for her family. and so amity leaves.

-

AND YESSS THE TWINS. like. i get it. the show had a lot going on and not a lot of time, of course the protagonist's girlfriend's siblings aren't gonna get that much time dedicated to them. but man. i love me a fucked up family and i want to know more about those two so bad. emira especially. like her twin brother (who, up to that point, had exactly as much relevance as her) got his own episode subplot and she got nothing! and like she interests me for all the reasons you said AND like. she seems to be odalia's favorite (perhaps tied with edric, perhaps even above him) but she seems even more cynical about BOTH of their parents than amity does. AND LIKE she's got eldest daughter syndrome despite being a TWIN! she seems to feel responsibility for looking after her brother who is the exact same age as her! i need to know what's the deal with that dynamic! god the fic ideas and headcanons i have about her that i never got around to writing/finishing

[wifelinkmtg]

TUMBLR POST EDITOR WON'T LET ME TITLE THIS POST ANYMORE SO I GUESS THIS IS THE TITLE NOW. WEBBED SITE INNIT

So let's say you grew up in the nineties and that The Lion King was an important movie to you. Let's say that the character of Scar - snarling, ambitious, condescending, effeminate Scar - stirred feelings in you which you had no words for as a child. And then let's say, many years later, you're talking about it with a college friend, and you say something like, "oh man, I think Scar was some sort of gay awakening for me," and she fixes you with this level stare and says, "Scar was a fascist. What's the matter with you?"

The immediate feeling is not unlike missing a step: hang on, what's happening, what did I miss? You knew there were goose-stepping hyenas in "Be Prepared," but you didn't think it mattered that much. He's the bad guy, after all, and the movie's just pointing it out. Your friend says it's more than that: the visuals of the song are directly referencing the Nuremberg rallies. They're practically an homage to Riefenstahl. This was your sexual awakening? Is this why you're so into peaked caps and leather, then? Subliminal nazi kink, perhaps?

And then one of your other friends cuts in. "Hold up," he says, "let's think about what Scar actually did in the movie. He organized a group of racialized outcasts and led them against a predatory monarchy. Why are you so keen to defend their hereditary rule? Scar's the good guy here." The conversation immediately descends into a verbal slap fight about who the real bad guy is, whether Scar's regime was actually responsible for the ecological devastation of the Pride Lands, whether the hyenas actually count as "racialized" because James Earl Jones voiced Mufasa after all. Your Catholic friend starts saying some strange and frankly concerning shit about Natural Law. Someone brings The Lion King 2 into it. You leave the conversation feeling a little bit lost and a little bit anxious. What were we even talking about?

INTRODUCING: THE DITCH

There is a way of reading texts which I'm afraid is pervasive, which has as its most classical expression the smug obsession with trivia and minutiae you find in a certain vein of comic book fan. "Who was the first Green Lantern? What was his weakness? Do you even know the Green Lantern Oath?" It eschews the subjective in favor of definitively knowable fact. You can't argue with this guy that, say, Alan Scott shouldn't really count as the first Green Lantern because his whole deal is so radically different from the Hal Jordan/John Stewart/Guy Gardner Corps-era Lanterns, because this guy will simply say "but he's called Green Lantern. Says so right on the cover. Checkmate." This approach to reading a text is fundamentally 1) emotionally detached (there's a reason the joke goes, oh you like X band? name three of their songs - and not, which of their songs means the most to you? which of them came into your life at exactly the right moment to tell you exactly what you needed to hear just then?) and 2) defensive. It's a stance that is designed not to lose arguments. It says so right on the cover. Checkmate.

And then you get the guys who are like "well obviously Bruce Wayne could do far more as a billionaire to solve societal problems by using his tremendous wealth to address systemic issues instead of dressing up as a bat and punching mental patients in the head," and these guys have half a point but they're basically in the same ditch butting heads with the "well, actually" guys, and can we not simply extricate ourselves from the ditch entirely?

So, okay, let's return to our initial example. Scar is portrayed using Nazi iconography - the goose-stepping, the monumentality, the Nuremberg Lichtdom. He is also flamboyant and effete. He unifies and leads a group of downtrodden exiles to overthrow an absolute monarch. He's also a self-serving despot on whose rule Heaven Itself turns its back. You can't reconcile these things from within the ditch - or if you can, the attempt is likely to be ad-hoc supposition and duct tape.

Instead, let's ask ourselves what perspective The Lion King is coming from. What does it say is true about the world? What are its precepts, its axioms?

There is a natural hierarchical order to the world. This is just and righteous and the way of things, and attempts to overthrow this order will be punished severely by the world itself.

Fascism is what happens when evil men attempt to usurp this natural order with the aid of a group or groups of people who refuse to accept their place in the order.

There exists an alternative to defending and adhering to one's place in the natural order - it consists only of selfish spineless apathy.

Manliness is an essential quality of a just ruler. Unmanliness renders a person unfit for rule, and often resentful and dangerous as well.

And isn't that interesting, laid out like that? It renders the entire argument about the movie irrelevant (except for whatever your Catholic friend was on about, since his understanding of the world seems to line up with the above precepts weirdly well.) It's meaningless to argue about whether Scar was a secret hero or a fascist, when the movie doesn't understand fascism and has a damn-near alien view of what good and evil are.

There's always gonna be someone who, having read this far, wants to reply, "so, what? The Lion King is a bad movie and the people who made it were homophobes and also American monarchists, somehow? And anyone who likes it is also some sort of gay-bashing crypto-authoritarian?" To which I have to reply, man, c'mon, get out of the ditch. You're no good to anyone in there. Take my hand. I'm going to pull on three. One... two...

SO PHYREXIA [PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE, GROANS]

We're talking about everyone's favorite ichor-drooling surgery monsters again because there was a bit in my ~*~seminal~*~ essay Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia which seemed to give a number of readers quite a bit of trouble: namely, the idea that while Phyrexia is textually fascist, their aesthetic is incompatible with real-world fascism, and further, that this aesthetic incompatibility in some way outweighs the ways in which they act like a fascist nation in terms of how we think of them. I'll take responsibility here: I don't think that point is at all clear or well-argued in that essay. What I was trying to articulate was that the text of Magic: the Gathering very much wants Phyrexia to be supremely evil and dangerous fascists, because that makes for effective antagonists, but in the process of constructing that, it's accidentally encoded a whole bunch of fascinating presuppositions that end up working at cross-purposes with its apparent aim. That's... not that much clearer, is it? Hmm. Why don't I just show you what I mean?

Atraxa, Grand Unifier (art by Marta Nael)

In "Beneath Eyes Unblinking," one of the March of the Machine stories by K. Arsenault Rivera, there's a fascinating and I think revealing passage in which Atraxa (big-deal Phyrexianized angel and Elesh Norn's lieutenant) has a run-in with an art museum in New Capenna. The first thing I want to talk about is that, in this passage, Atraxa has no understanding of the concept of "beauty". A great deal of space in such a rushed storyline is devoted to her trying to puzzle out what beauty means and interrogating the minds of her recently-compleated Capennan aesthetes to try and understand it. In the end, she is unable to conceive of beauty except as "wrongness," as anathema.

So my first question is, why doesn't Atraxa have any idea of beauty? This is nonsense, right? We could point to a previous story, "A Garden of Flesh," by Lora Gray, in which Elesh Norn explicitly thinks in terms of beauty, but that's a little bit ditchbound, isn't it? The better argument is to simply look at Phyrexian bodies, at the Phyrexian landscape, all of which looks the way it does on purpose, all of which has been shaped in accordance with the very real aesthetic preferences of Phyrexians. How you could look at the Fair Basilica and not understand that Phyrexians most definitely have an idea of beauty, even if you personally disagree with it, is baffling. This is a lot like the canonical assertion that Phyrexians lack souls, which is both contradicted elsewhere in canon and essentially meaningless, given Magic's unwillingness or inability to articulate what a soul is in its setting, and as with this, it seems the goal is simply to dehumanize Phyrexians, to render them alien, even at the cost of incoherence or internal contradiction.

Atraxa's progress through the museum is fascinating. It evokes the 1937 Nazi exhibit on "degenerate art" in Munich, but not at all cleanly. The first exhibit, which is of representational art, she angrily destroys for being too individualistic (a point of dissonance with the European fascist movements of the 20th century, which formed in direct antagonism to communism.) The second exhibit, filled with abstract paintings and sculptures, she destroys even more angrily for having no conceivable use (this is much more in line with the Nazi idea of "degenerate art", so well done there.) The third exhibit is filled with war trophies and reconstructions from a failed Phyrexian invasion of Capenna many years prior, which she is angriest of all with (and fair enough, I suppose.) But then, after she's done completely trashing the place, she spots a number of angel statues on the cathedral across the plaza, and she goes apeshit. In a fugue of white-hot rage, she pulverizes the angel heads, and here is where I have to ask my second question:

Why angels? If you are trying to invoke fascist attitudes toward art, big statues of angels are precisely the wrong thing for your fascist analogues to hate. Fascists love monumental, heroic representations of superhuman perfection. It's practically their whole aesthetic deal. I understand that we're foreshadowing the imminent defeat of Phyrexia at the hands of legions of angels and a multiversal proliferation of angel juice, but that just leads to the exact same question: why angels? To the best of my knowledge, the Phyrexian weakness to New Capennan angel juice is something invented for this storyline. They have, after all, been happily compleating angels since 1997. We could talk about the in-universe justification for why Halo specifically is so potent, but I don't remember what that justification is, and also don't care. Let's not jump back in the ditch, please. The point is, someone decided that this time, Phyrexia would be defeated by an angelic host, and what does that mean? What is the text trying to say? What are its precepts and axioms?

Let me ask you a question: how many physically disabled angels are there in Magic: the Gathering? How about transsexual angels? How many angels are there, on all of the cards that have ever been printed for Magic: the Gathering, that are even just a bit ugly? Do you get it yet? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?

SPELLING IT OUT FOR YOU

There is a kind of body which is bad. It is bad because it has been significantly altered from its natural state, and it is bad because it is repellent to our aesthetic sensibilities.

The bad kind of body is contagious. It spreads through contact. Sometimes people we love are infected, and then they become the bad kind of body too.

There is a kind of body which is good. It is good because it is pleasing to our aesthetic sensibilities, and it is good because it is unaltered from its (super)natural state.

A happy ending is when all the good bodies destroy or drive into hiding all of the bad bodies. A happy ending is when the bad bodies of the people we love are forcibly returned to being the good kind of body.

Do you get it now?

ENDNOTES

It's worth noting that the ditch is very similar to the white American Evangelical hermeneutics of "the Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it," the defensive chapter-and-verse-or-it-didn't-happen approach to reading a text, what Fred Clark of slacktivist calls "concordance-ism". I don't think that's accidental. We stand underneath centuries of people reading the Bible very poorly - how could that not affect how we read things today? We are participants in history whether we like it or not.

I sincerely hope I haven't come across as condescending in this essay. Close reading is legitimately difficult! They teach college courses on this stuff! And while it is frustrating to have my close readings interrogated by people who... aren't doing that, like. I do get it. I find myself back in the ditch all the time. This stuff is hard. It is also, sorry, crucial if you intend to say something about a text that's worth saying.

I also hope I've communicated clearly here. Magic story is sufficiently incoherent that trying to develop a thesis about it often feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. If anyone has questions, please ask them! And thank you for reading. Next time, we'll probably do the new Eldraine set.

[entitled-fangirl]

howl at the moon.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The Boltons wish to correct their behaviors and win back the Stark's favor for a previous mishap. But a Stark should never trust a Bolton.

Warnings: cursing, blood, physical fighting, poisoning, death, pleading for life

A/n: based on an ask! This is one of my darkest ones, so please read at your discretion!

Masterlist

.............................................................

Cregan groaned as he stretched, sitting up in bed and looking over to the sleeping form next to him.

He hummed happily at seeing the woman lying beside him with her messy hair and a grin even in the dream world.

He leaned over, smoothing the hair from her forehead to place a kiss there. 

She shifted at the feeling and soon, her eyes peered up into his, puffy with the aftereffects of sleep.

Cregan smiled before he willed himself up from bed to begin dressing to break fast.

"Joining me this morning, pretty girl?" He asked over his shoulder. 

She sat up, holding the furs to cover herself. "Perhaps I need a good reason to."

His smile turned to a grin when he turned around to look at her, "And perhaps I have a good reason."

She let out a soft laugh, "Oh really? Pray tell, my lord."

He took steps to her side of the bed, each one heavy to match the darkening look in his eyes as he neared her. "Am I not a good enough reason, wife?"

A teasing grin came to her lips, "Prove it."

His eyes lit up with a fire. He threw his leg over her, pulling himself onto the bed above her. He leaned down to brush his lips against hers, "Perhaps I need to."

They skipped breakfast entirely.

…

"Any word from the prince?"

Cregan shrugged, "Not yet. I don't believe we should hold our breath either way. We have other matters currently to attend to."

The men at the council table all nodded in tandem. 

"If that is all," Cregan sighed. "We're done here."

They all stood, giving various words of thanks as they left. 

Cregan stood and pulled his cloak over him, stopping when one of the men approached him. 

"My lord, may we speak?"

The Lord of Winterfell nodded, "Speak your mind, Bolton."

Lord Bolton sighed, "I fear I've angered you. And if I have, I owe you a plea of forgiveness."

That was the understatement of the century. 

Bolton had wished since his daughter was born that she be betrothed to Cregan. In fact, Rickon Stark had actually heard out the man's plea years before. 

But she was far too young, and it left a bad taste in Cregan's mouth at the thought. 

Denied of it, Bolton had left in a huff, nearly cursing the Stark name as he went.

That was years ago, and things had calmed.

But the wound had reopened when Cregan took Y/n to wife. 

She was no northerner. 

And Bolton hated her for it.

He had grown rather defiant of Stark's commands after the announcement of their betrothal, and it seems even after the wedding, things hadn't changed.

Until now.

Cregan grunted, "I am a man that does not pretend, Bolton. Do you wish for my forgiveness because you are truly regretful, or only because your defiance has gotten you nowhere?"

Bolton let out a tense smile, "Indeed, I am ambitious, my lord. But I truly wish happiness upon you and our lady of Winterfell."

Cregan bit his lip as he stared at the man. After all this, he's suddenly sorry?

He walked past the man, exiting the meeting room and calling over his shoulder, "I'll forgive you when I see improvement."

He then turned around, "I'm a man of action, Bolton. You better be as well." And continued down the hall as if the interaction had not happened at all.

But it seemed Bolton had been adamant about it because his son was begging forgiveness from the lady at the same time.

…

"I don't understand," Y/n said with a tilt of her head.

Randall Bolton, Lord Bolton's only heir, walked with her outside of the stone walls of Winterfell.

"My father… he… he was rather upset when my sister didn't become a Stark. I suppose he's feeling regretful that now that you're here."

She nodded, "I see." She mulled it over before asking, "Well, Cregan didn't swear to it, did he?"

"No, no he didn't. His father only entertained the idea. Nothing became of it."

She hummed as they continued their walk. She finally stopped to fully look at him, "I have no ill will towards your family, if that is of any reassurance. However," she paused. "I will not speak for Cregan. I will not make him decide based on me alone."

Randall smiled, "That's all I wished for. The last thing I want is the Lady of Winterfell to be angry with me. I don't believe I'd rest at night with that knowledge."

She laughed lightly, "Then I do hope you rest well tonight."

"I surely will, my lady."

Another smile from her, "Wonderful. I must return to my duties, but I do hope we get to speak again."

"As do I."

The two walked in opposite directions before he stopped, "You know, I've just considered this."

She turns to look at him.

"Should Lord Stark truly give us his forgiveness, perhaps you'll visit the Dreadfort."

"I wouldn't wish to intrude-"

"-Nonsense." He smiled, "It is on the way to the Wall. Next time Lord Stark makes his trek there, we will be happy to house him." He paused, "And you, of course, if you accompany him."

She nodded, "That sounds lovely. I'd like that. Thank you."

…

"They're all pigs, really."

"Cregan!"

"They are!"

She sighed lightly and leaned back against the headboard of their bed, pulling her legs up, "You're too firm."

He turned to her. His eyes softened a bit at the sight of her so comfortable on their bed. He let out a soft breath. "And you're too kind."

"How are they to prove themselves if you never give them the chance?"

Cregan grunted, "If they want my approval so badly, they should not have acted so in the first place."

She rested her head on her knees as she looked at him, "Can you blame a man for wanting the best for his daughter?"

He whipped his head around to her at her words. 

Perhaps he hadn't considered it like that.

She continued, "If there was even a slight hint that your daughter could do well in life, would you not push for it all you could?"

He stared at her, his eyes studying intensely. "One chance. A disapproving stare and I'll gut them all."

She threw her head back with a laugh, "You cannot gut every man you disagree with!"

He grinned, "It's not for me. It's for you."

Her brows furrowed.

"I'll not have disrespect to my girl, that I promise you."

…

"Got everything, my love?" He asked. 

She tried to answer, but was too occupied trying to tie the strings of her cloak together with gloved fingers.

He let out a breathy chuckle, "C'mere, girl."

He gripped the strings with ease, beginning to tie them.

She tried to look down at it, but he gently pushed her chin up with one of his fingers, "Can't see when you do that."

She opted then to stare at the broad man in front of her. So focused on tying the strings of his little wife's cloak.

Once done, he shifted the cloak, righting it on her shoulders, then running his hands up and down her arms to make heat for her, "You're ready?"

She nodded, and the two moved to begin their long trek.

…

The Dreadfort wasn't as far as she had thought it was. 

And thought it had fort in the name, she still didn't expect it to be as intimidating as it was.

But Randall and Lord Bolton were quick to greet the group.

Cregan made no effort to initially return the greeting as he moved off his horse and immediately go to hers to help her down.

She was the first to speak to them, and all the while, Cregan kept a steady and firm hand on her at all times. 

It was one thing to beg for his forgiveness, but to use his girl for her empathy so easily?

They played her like a fiddle, and he hated the sound of it.

…

A few hours of rest and recovery and the two found themselves dressing for supper.

"They've been kind thus far, Cregan. You have to give them room to improve."

He let out a long sigh as he buttoned his vest.

She took that as answer enough.

She turned to the mirror, righting the dress on her as reached behind herself to tie it.

She stared down at the ground in concentration of what she was feeling, and almost jumped when his fingers joined hers.

"C'mere, pretty. We'll be here all day if you do it like that," he teased.

She laughed lightly and pulled her hands away to let him do it.

It wasn't the first time Cregan had messed with the thin strings of her gowns.

All the practice had made him quite good at it.

He leaned into her, "This is their one chance."

"But if you are constantly looking for something to be wrong, then you have no intention of finding them right."

His jaw clenched and he accidentally pulled too tight, making him let out a soft apology before continuing, "I have trusted them with the most precious thing I have. What more of a chance can I supply them with?"

She looked up at him in the mirror, "And what's that?"

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, "Must I say it?"

Realization dawned on her and she smiled, "Am I truly the most precious thing you have?"

He had to hold in the laugh he procured at her question. "If I am truly a wolf, my love, then perhaps you are the moon."

She hummed as he finished tying her dress.

Once finished, he pulled her back into his chest to speak lowly in her ear, "You are truly like the moon to me."

She leaned against him with a furrowed brow as they looked in the mirror. 

When she said nothing, he continued, "I am drawn to you, pretty. I dunno why. I'm like a wolf, hunting every night, desperate to satisfy a hunger for something I don't understand." 

His grip on her tightened, "And so, I call out, hoping that the one thing that is my greatest asset is listening for me. A bright moon that lights my path."

He kissed the side of her head, "You know, my father once told me that he believe that wolf and the moon to be great lovers when on earth together."

She finally spoke up, "A legend?"

He shrugged, "Dunno. But father said their love was so strong that it outshone the gods, so they were punished and separated at death. Now stuck for eternity, yearning for one another but shall never feel the other's warmth again."

She let out a breath and placed her hands on his around her waist. "Then I don't want to be the moon."

He leaned down to kiss her shoulder, "Why's that?"

"I don't want to be separated from you."

He smiled, "Neither do I, my girl." He let her go and moved to pick up his boots, "Let us finish here before we're late to sup."

…

With a little bit of wine, Cregan had managed to relax. 

In fact, he even smiled a few times. 

"And then he brought me a donkey!" Randall announced the punchline.

The table erupted in laughs.

Y/n turned to Cregan, absolutely enamored with his laugh. 

And when his arm stretched over the back of her chair as well, she had to cross her legs to keep herself focused.

Her husband leaned over to her, "Not hungry much?"

She looked down to her plate that had been hardly picked at, "Weary from the journey, I believe."

"You know," Lord Bolton said as he leaned forward. "We have an incredible collection of tapestries hanging in one of our corridors. Perhaps Randall could show you."

She looked to the Lord, Randall, then to Cregan. Cregan stared back in silent communication.

She sipped her wine steadily then nodded, "Yes, that sounds lovely."

Cregan stood and held an arm out to help her up, which she took. 

She turned to him and placed her other hand on his chest. "I'll retire after for the night." She tilted her head, "Enjoy yourself, but don't leave me waiting too long, my wolf."

He grinned, "I wouldn't dare."

She laughed lightly and moved to Randall, but a confused emotion ran over her face.

"You alright, Lady Stark?" Randall asked. 

She nodded, "Yes. Yes, I'm just fine."

Cregan watched them carefully until they were out of range. 

…

"And this one," Randall pointed out, "was weaved by my great grandmother. They said she predicted the choosing of King Viserys over Princess Rhaenys."

She looked up with a furrowed brow, "Do you believe that?"

He smiled, "No."

She hummed and moved towards the tapestry, but her legs buckled on her before she could and she fell to her knees.

Randall was quick to move to her. He crouched down, "My lady, are you alright?"

She held a hand to her forehead. Everything was spinning so fast. 

"Let me grab the maester-"

"-I don't-"

"-Stop. I'll not have my Lady Stark ill."

He made quick work to barking at a servant to find the maester.

He practically picked her up himself, helping her to her chambers.

…

"Lord Stark," one of the servants interrupted.

Lord Bolton grumbled, "This better be important."

"My lord, your presence has been requested in your chambers."

Cregan's brow furrowed. That was unlike his wife.

Bolton grinned, "Perhaps you've kept the lass waiting too long. Needy little things, wives."

The servant shook her head, "The maester was fetched for the lady, my lord."

Cregan immediately moved to his feet, not caring about the chair that fell over loudly at the force. 

"Lord Stark," Bolton started.

"I have no time," Cregan stated with no hesitation.

And he made quick work to journeying down the halls of the fort to her. 

…

"Why not? I don't understand," A voice whispered in one of the corridors.

Cregan paused, moving down the hall towards the sound.

"I'm sorry, but that was my order." A new voice.

"And what if I'm the one demanding something?" The first voice asked angrily.

"I follow your father, not you, Randall. I'm sorry."

Randall.

"You're the fucking maester, you can't just-"

"I do what I am told. As should you."

Cregan's eyes widened and he began to travel faster, hoping to relieve the horrid pain that started in his heart.

…

When he entered their chambers, she laid asleep on the bed, the furs pulled over her to preserve heat. 

But her skin was already too pale and a layer of sweat had formed. 

Cregan cursed lightly as he sat on the bed. 

What the hell had happened so suddenly?

His hand started to shake as he brought it up to her face.

Her skin was cold. 

He began to shake his head in denial. 

The maester entered and Cregan jumped. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to frighten you."

Cregan felt weak. He had never felt weak before.

The maester moved to the bed, "We've done all we can for her. It's a passing illness. Only time will heal it."

His teeth began to grind. "I don't believe you."

The man looked thrown off, "My lord?"

Cregan grabbed the man by the tunic and shoved him to the wall, growling in his face with a fire that was terrified of being extinguished. "You're letting her die."

The maester's breath quickened and denied his words, "My lord, I'm doing all I can."

"What's keeping me from ripping your throat out here now?" Cregan asked with a set jaw.

"I… um… I suppose nothing my lord."

"Then fucking work."

But when Cregan released him, he ran from the room.

He growled and moved to follow him when a cough sounded from the bed.

A groggy and weak voice came from the woman, "Cre…Cregan."

He moved to her, pulling her hand in his as he sat on the bed, "I'm here, my girl."

She let out a whine, "It all hurts."

He nodded, "I know."

She stared at him in thought as hot tears flooded her eyes.

"Am I going to die, Cregan?"

A breath involuntarily left his throat. 

He'd seen death. Looked it in the eyes himself. Watched it take everything from him. His father. His brother. Kings and rulers fell everyday at its hands. 

He couldn't let it do this to him. 

He shook his head, "No. No, my girl. You'll live."

They both knew it was a lie.

When the tears began to run down her face, he cradled her to his chest like she was glass. 

"Don't let me die, Cregan! Please, please. I'll… I'll be good. Please… d…don't let me go!"

He stared at the wall in pure fear. 

When had he ever felt fear?

He wasn't sure he had before.

He'd have recognized the feeling of that twisting in his gut with every sound of her sobs.

She began to hiccup profusely and he was practically holding her up all by himself.

He pulled her flush against him.

"Shhh… you've gotta breathe for me. Please. Please."

All of a sudden, there was silence. 

He just stared at the wall. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.  

He didn't want to look at her. But human nature made him yearn to look disaster in the eye.

He pulled her from his shoulder.

Dead.

The sound that ripped out of Cregan's throat was animalistic. 

And he pulled her to him once again, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to comfort her. 

Even he knew it was in vain, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything else.

…

"I'll kill you!" Randall roared.

"Keep your fucking voice down," Bolton cursed.

"You're killing an innocent girl for what? Revenge? On something that never happened?"

Bolton's eyes locked into stone, "Don't speak on something you don't know, boy."

Cregan walked in, a mere shell. 

His eyes were looking nowhere and everywhere all at once, as if waiting for a hidden truth to reveal itself. 

To wake up from a dream. 

Bolton feigned innocence, "Is everything alright, my lord?"

"She's dead."

Oh fuck.

A breath escaped Randall and he began to shake his head, "I can't sit by with this."

"Randall-"

"My lord," Randall ran forward to Cregan. "My lord, he's plotted th-"

"-Quiet!" Bolton yelled.

But Cregan had heard it.

His eyes slowly wandered up from the ground to the older man's body, each inch giving him more life.

When they settled on the Bolton's face, the wolf of the north was seething.

His voice was so low, it sounded like thunder, "I'll have your fucking head."

"Now, Stark-" he tried to reason.

Cregan marched forward, quickly closing the distance between them before he grabbed him by the tunic and landed a heavy punch in the face.

Blood seeped from the man's nose, but Cregan was far from finished with him.

Servants rushed forward to stop him, but Randall quickly aided him in keeping them away.

Cregan landed hit after hit on the man.

And when he fell to the ground, it only spurred Cregan on. 

Blood stained his hands, tunic, pants, even his hair. 

Cregan didn't care.

When the man let out a bloody smile, and Cregan's hand faltered.

The man spit blood to the side, "Maybe if the bitch hadn't indulged herself in the wine, she'd have this by now."

He pulled a vial from his pocket. 

An antidote.

Cregan turned into an animal, panting harshly with a wild look in his eyes.

He only saw red, completely out of reason with his actions. 

Only when Randall had physically pulled him from the man did he come back to.

Bolton's face was unidentifiable. 

And Cregan finally felt the stick residue of the blood on his hands. 

It felt like it stained beyond his hands. Deep into the bone.

He sat on the ground, holding back the overwhelming urge to cry.

…

Never did a day pass where Cregan didn't wear the vial around his neck.

And he couldn't bring himself to leave the walls of Winterfell when the moon was out there to greet him.

A painful reminder of what had passed.

She had said she didn't want to be the moon.

So he had to promise himself to not become the wolf.

However, it didn't stop his howling at night in dreams, yearning for the love he had lost due to the jealousy of not the gods, but man.

..................................................................

Cregan Stark taglist: @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn,

[summercourtship]

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open. 

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly. 

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town. 

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?” 

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.” 

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.” 

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

���No, please-” 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.” 

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time. 

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought. 

__

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination. 

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.” 

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee. 

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you. 

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.” 

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by. 

“That would be nice, thanks.” 

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street. 

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows. 

“...Go away.” 

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t. 

“What do you want?” 

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room. 

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim. 

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.  

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there. 

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both). 

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens. 

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using. 

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn. 

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.  

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head. 

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room. 

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you. 

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him. 

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly. 

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it. 

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”  

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else. 

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you. 

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.” 

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again. 

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?” 

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours. 

“I didn’t. I don’t.” 

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek? 

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.” 

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts. 

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.  

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Stay still.” 

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens. 

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips. 

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently? 

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin. 

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body. 

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. 

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit. 

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. 

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment. 

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation. 

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth. 

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool. 

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.” 

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it. 

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore. 

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hiiii since it’s my birthday really soon, can I get Hu Tao, Yae Miko, Chiori, UMP45 and Makoto from P5 celebrating readers birthday?? Maybe a surprise party?!?!?!?!

(Genshin Impact/GFL/P5) Hu Tao, Yae Miko, Chiori, UMP45, and Makoto celebrating Reader's birthday

Oh god, I hope I'm still on time for this.

(Hu Tao) "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Hu Tao pops out of absolutely nowhere and scares the hell out of (Y/N), but she is beaming with energy.

Despite the fact the clock had just struck midnight, and S/O was in their own room.

(Hu Tao) "Soooo, what do you plan on doing? Got any cake for today?"

(Y/N) "Hu Tao, I'm trying to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning...Actually, how did you even get in my house?!"

(Hu Tao) "Details we can discuss after your birthday plans! Now, what do you want for today? I can try my best to get you a good sale!"

(Y/N) "Well, it's not a coffin or ghost, I'll tell you that much..."

(Hu Tao) "Wow, buzzkill! I guess I won't treat you to Xiangling's today after all!"

Hu Tao is definitely the type to throw a surprise party, though it's not much of a surprise since she appeared in their bedroom.

Later when it's actually a humane time of day, she invites them over to her home to celebrate properly!

She still wishes they could've had the celebration late at night though, Hu Tao had a lot of jokes planned...

Normally, Yae is supposed to do a formal recital of wishing a pleasant birthday.

But to hell with that, that was boring.

Yae decides to wish (Y/N) a happy birthday in her own way.

(Yae) "(Y/N), I expect to have a good meal today."

(Y/N) "Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?"

(Yae) "Perhaps, but surely you don't plan on going anywhere mundane to eat for such a very special occasion, right?"

(Y/N) "N-Not if it's going to bankrupt all of my Mora!"

(Yae) "Oh come now, I do not eat that much."

(Y/N) "Wait, why am I paying for you on my birthday?!"

(Yae) "Well, thank you for offering! You're such a kind soul!"

(Y/N) sigh

She doesn't really host a party for (Y/N), at least not by herself. But at the very least, she'll make it a damn entertaining day, for better and worse.

Oh, (Y/N)'s birthday. Neat, Chiori supposed.

(Chiori) "Yes yes, happy birthday and all that."

(Y/N) "Hah, calm down there Chiori, you're getting a bit too excited."

(Chiori) "I hope you don't expect me to have cake and balloons ready to spring out at you."

(Y/N) "Frankly, I'd be more shocked if you did."

(Chiori) "At least you understand that part."

Bluntness aside, Chiori handcrafts (Y/N) a nice present before their very eyes.

A handmade gift could speak more than a million bought gifts ever could.

As much as Navia would disagree with her.

(Y/N) has better chances of Chiori throwing them a surprise party as they would surviving a lightning strike from the Raiden Shogun herself.

45's smile seems to soften when (Y/N) enters the dorm, though it was nearly pitch black.

(UMP45) "Well, you took your sweet time coming back."

(Y/N) "45? Why are you in my-"

UMP9 leapt out from underneath the table as the lights came on. HK416 was leaning against the wall while G11 was face first on the same table, sleeping away.

And in the middle appeared to be a cake that looked...ambitious, to put it kindly.

(UMP45) "Happy birthday.~"

UMP9 blew on a party horn, the small paper unfolding and making a small doot noise as her arms extended in joy.

HK416 simply shrugged and grunted, and G11 was still comatose.

(Y/N) "T-Thank you guys! You didn't really need to-"

(UMP45) "Not really, but I figured it'd be fun to celebrate something special with you."

Her smile only seemed to grow when (Y/N) joined her, watching the chaos unfold as UMP9 tried to cut a cake, despite the fact the knife was getting dangerously close to G11's unkempt hair.

(UMP45) "Thought I'd bring the squad along to have fun too. Clearly it's working better than I thought."

(Y/N) "This is already so chaotic though!"

(UMP45) "Exactly."

Makoto is caught off guard when (Y/N) enters the room, holding a small cake with a candle in it.

The cake itself seemed terribly made, as it looked like it'd crumble if one simply stared at it for too long.

(Makoto) "U-Um...Welcome back! I tried to make something for you myself and...you see how that worked."

Makoto sighed but (Y/N) laughed, giving a comforting hand on her shoulder.

(Y/N) "I appreciate it, still. But hey it smells really good!"

(Makoto) "And the taste...?"

(Y/N) took a bite out of it, and smiled, turning back to Makoto.

(Y/N) "Honestly, not bad! I'm not dead yet!"

Makoto chuckled as she sighed.

(Makoto) "Well, I suppose that's good reassurance."

Makoto would fail instantly at a surprise party, mostly because she'd spend too much time to get it ready, only for (Y/N) to walk in way too early.

[zippidi-dooda]

Dunno if this exists yet, but someone needs to write stories of twst clubs x reader, where members slowly become more attached and possessive of Y/N, could be mild or bordering on yandere actions, platonic or romantic. Includes all clubs, even the single member ones. They can also be set in the current NRC timeline or in the future or as a whole different AU.

Here's some examples and ideas to fuel you to start,

"Basketball Club × Reader" - Be ready to go pro with this ambitious group, Jamil, Ace, and Floyd. An unexpected turn of events is sure to ensue if the time is right, or wrong rather, but rest assured that you'll soon be set back on track by the level headed of the members. You say you don't like the spontaneity? Don't worry, me neither. But if I can, then I'm sure you could also find it in your heart to forgive and just go along with it, yes? Oh dear, don't you seem out of it today. Here, let us help. Just follow my every instruction ... yes, just like that ... it's good to know you're the most cooperative of us ...

"Pop Music Club x Reader" - Have fun jammin' out and sharing crazy stories with this energetic trio, Lilia, Cater, and Kalim. You'll always feel welcomed and noticed here whether you know how to hum a tune or have never touched an instrument in your life. Just enjoy the tea and spill your darkest secrets whenever you'd like, this group is patient and remembers every last detail, you'll never want to leave. Though, if the thought does cross your mind, you'll need to announce your upcoming absence so we can throw a goodbye party. But, maybe you shouldn't. We'll just remind you of all the good times you'll miss. For one last time, we'll laugh and joke about how horrible and destroyed your life would be without us. We know everything about you, even the diabolical. Why, if your secrets were to be spread through magicam like wildfire, it'd close so many doors for you, no one would ever look at you the same. You don't want that, right? It'd be best to just stay here with us where your peace of mind is secured, right? You're free to go, but please don't forget us. And don't forget that all it takes is one push of a button to push your life downhill ...

"Spelldrive Club x Reader" - Soar through the skies as you chase your victory alongside this competitive bunch, Leona, Ruggie, and Epel. You train hard everyday, but there's still time to get together during breaks, the chipper of your group bonding over your mutual desire to crush the competition as your captain snoozes. Other, bigger, teams want to recruit you which is a great opportunity. You're honored. And you should be, but don't you know you're the most valuable member of the team? We couldn't make it without you. Not to mention, we'd be heartbroken to see you leave. These guys are too proud to say it, but deep down you know it's true. Those other guys may be better against teams we haven't been able to beat, but they'll never support you as much we do. You wouldn't want to lose the people who love you most, would you? No? Ah, I'm glad. Don't worry, we're sure to win someday, just stick with us and you'll never have to worry about disappointing anyone again ...

"Equestrian Club x Reader" - Gallop through endless fields alongside your law-abiding yet tender companions, Sebek, Silver, and Riddle. Rest assured that with these three you'll have bushels of fun, but more importantly, you'll always be safe. Always. Perhaps a bit too safe ... but there's no such thing, right? Just follow our instructions quickly and obediently, quietly, and you'll never have to worry about the risks of riding through the wilderness again. We promise not to let you get hurt. If it takes being restricted to only the land visible to us, so be it ... hm? Oh, my apologies, I am simply running my mouth. Pay it no mind. Ah, hey, not that way. Why? Well, we haven't quite explored there yet and we'd rather not risk endangering you or the poor horses. Perhaps we can take a look at it tomorrow and see if it's fit for a trot, yes? I agree, now why don't we head back, I can guide your horse for you if you'd like. Just sit back and relax, you're safe with us taking the reins, I promise. The most safe you'll ever be ...

"Track & Field Club x Reader" - Live life fast and furious with this driven pair, Deuce and Jack. You'll always be encouraged to push your limits with their helpful hollers. You won't be upset long with their optimistic cheering. But make sure you show up for every meet, if not, they'll worry about you. They'll go looking for you. And they will find you. Hey, we haven't seen you around lately, is everything okay? Is now a bad time? I'm sorry, but we really missed you yesterday and just wanted to know nothing bad happened. Why don't you come join us for lunch tomorrow, we don't have to practice. We'll get you whatever you want, promise. Wait! You ... weren't planning on leaving me behind again, were you? Good. Ya had me worried for a second, haha. So, we'll meet up at 2:30? Great. Afterwards we can just hangout. And if you want to go for a quick jog again we'd be more than happy to. We've always been faster than you, though, remember? But, don't worry, we'll go easy on you if you ask. Just don't bolt when we're not looking so we don't have to worry and chase after you ... again ...

"Film Research Club x Reader" - Get ready to make strides in the acting business as you perform and work behind the scenes with model and tech genius, Vil and Ortho. Just make sure you aren't so distracted by the applause and spotlights that you forget to read the fine print of your contract. You wish to quit? I'm sorry, My Dear, but I'm afraid you've agreed to work with only us for xxxx amount of years and we need you to play this next lead in order to ensure our film trumps Neige's. Don't worry, we know all the right tips and tricks to secure perfection, just read the script as directed. Exactly. As directed ...

"Science Club x Reader" - Slip those safety goggles on and hold your breath as you run experiments with this curious pair, Trey and Rook. There's nothing better than getting your hands on new and exciting material. Not exactly sure why you're here? No worries! Not all of us are either, but we have fun here. Any experiments you've heard of you'd like to try? Only illegal ones? No problem we can get our hands on the items needed just tell us what they are ... a funny joke? No. I'm dead serious ... we've done plenty before ... ahaha! You look so frightened, lighten up, no one's died ... yet ... hey wait don't give that look. Sorry if that was too much. We're careful enough to keep things safe ... unnoticed ... what's that liquid? Oh just some juice for a friend using the fruits in here, would you like to try it? Here, have a sip ... what's that? It burns? Ah, I see let's write that down. What else are you feeling? What? Using you? No way, we'd never do something so cruel ... you're simply helping us learn as our lab partner ... oh stop that, no one else is here ... now tell me before things escalate ... what other sensations are you feeling ... fascinating ... it's different compared to last time ... too bad you forget after you wake up ... it's why we have to keep doing this ... over ... and over again

"Board Game Club x Reader" - Roll up thise sleeves and bring your a-game as you play with these competitive gamers, Azul and Idia. Have fun and forget the days worries as you make you way across the mat, never will these two give you a boring game. Though that doesn't mean we can't take things up a notch ... What say you we have a little wager? We beat you xx amount of times and you do us a little favor in return? I promise there'll be no foul play. You could ask a favor of us too if you win. In fact we can sweeten the deal even more if you're game ... no? Oh, don't tell me you're scared you'll lose ... you're not? Good. Then there's no issue making a harmless bet, yes? How lovely ... now, why don't we all sign this paper to ensure no one chickens out when they lose ... oh don't worry it's nothing serious, just a sheet of rules, standard club ware yes? Yes ... now right on the line ... good job. You agreed to sign this freely remember? Right. So don't go back on you word later ... nothing good comes of cheaters ... trust me ... I take care of all of them ...

"Gargoyle Studies Club x Reader" - Prepare to learn each and every random tidbit about each little stone as you explore the ruins with this wise companion, Malleus. Everything may go in one ear and out the other but this voice just so dreamy that you don't mind the rambles, right? But please do make an effort, no one likes a dimwit who can't tell the difference between a grotesque and a gargoyle. But, oh dear, it looks like you really are getting tired. Don't worry, I know how to care for my own, you can slumber for the next century safe at my side. I promise to be here when I let you wake up. At least then we won't need worry about those pesky mortals who wrestle your time from me. Hm, what was that ... you feel disoriented ...? Oh you needn't worry, that's a standard effect ... you won't feel a thing in a moment ... trust me ... your dearest friend ... I'll always be watching over you ...

"Mountain Lovers Club x Reader" - Embark on cozy and informative hikes through the mountains with your knowledgable partner Jade. But beware the trained smiles and pre-packed lunches, you may end up a little further out than planned. Oh, don't worry, the place I had in mind is just a little further along, I promise. You trust me, don't you? Good, then everything should go smoothly. Hm? You're not feeling well? Ah, perhaps you ate something you shouldn't have ... I do hope you were taking note of those wilderness survival tips I gave you ... though, they may not be of much help to you underwater ... hm? Oh, I wasn't saying anything of importance, don't mind me. You did say you trust me, yes? I'd like to find out just how much ...

Honestly, I had a lot of fun writing these ideas, even though I did forget about them for a while.

[cyberdragoninfinity]

Hm, I see you like yuri and aporia quite a bit.. :3 how do you think they'd react to each other? (It can be in your au too if you want :33)

The boy has eyes like a greedy dragon and a smile like a maddened cannibal as he examines Aporia's claws with delighted fascination. "So this is what it looks like to become one." The smile grows wider, hungrier. "We really are the same."

"I fail to see the similarity." Aporia huffs, recoiling his hand. The child simply snickers in reply, disappearing into the tangled curtain of wires and cables plugged into his back and arm ports. He reemerges a moment later on the other side, having to crane his neck to meet Aporia's gaze, even with the great and powerful Embodiment of Despair sitting ever so gingerly on the ground.

"Then maybe you should look harder, Aporia. We may as well be twins!" says the boy, leaning against Aporia's knee and giving him a fiendish little grin. "Metaphorically speaking, of course. We've both been parts of a whole, haven't we? Well, I suppose I still am, unfortunately I'm still trying to collect all of my pieces, but you… you did it. You reunited as one and unlocked your true power. I have to admire the efficiency! You make it look so easy." His smile twitches, sliding into a grimace as he glances at the cables and cords around them. "I would admire the rejection of humanity too, if you weren't so dedicated to being a machine." A disgusted sniff. "Why on earth would you want to become some cold metal Thing when you could just embrace your divine flesh and become a creature of true organic destruction instead?"

Aporia narrows his eyes. "You cannot fathom the divine touch that's had its hand in making me," he rumbles, a warning tone. "A holy machine is an existence beyond your very comprehension, little one. I exist unbound by useless, distracting emotions; I have no need to be a slave to things like your juvenile yearning for chaos and destruction!"

That earns him a nasty little glare. "Come now. My name is Yuri."

Something flickers in the corner of Aporia's mind. He pushes it back, hastily. Leans down as much as he can to bare his ever-sharp fangs at the boy. "Hmph. Another thing then, Yuri--you and I are nothing alike. Our goals and situations are night and day." He speaks slowly, syllables taking a particularly prickly edge. "The Three Emperors of Iliaster were made to become me. They're androids. They were built from my despair, built with reunification intended… and I stand as the sum of their parts. They merged into one by their own accord, for the good of completing the Circuit and saving the future. It was their decision. They wanted it."

Yuri matches his bared teeth with the lazy glint of his own devilish fangs. "And you think we don't?" he purrs. "Please. I know how badly the others are yearning to be one. They're desperate for it! I'm just the only piece ambitious enough to make it happen."

"Ambitious." Aporia snorts. Ambitious the way a vampire sinks its teeth into your neck, sure. "Perhaps that's the crux of how we differ, Yuri. My pieces weren't hunting each other."

"My, my. That's an awfully accusatory tone you're taking."

Aporia has had enough feelings for ten lifetimes. A hundred, even. His Z-one crafted mechanical makeup dutifully seals every distracting, useless emotion away, at his own insistence. And yet he's all too aware of something very close to frustration digging its barbs into his brain. Dancing around with that flickering something that's refusing to stay out of sight out of mind. "The Emperors are… were… a unit. A shared existence. Allow me to point out that you and all of your pieces have your own separate lives. Had, I should say. And it seems you won't rest until you've ensured the complete and utter ego death of every last one of them." He sits back, letting cables slacken. Hums. "My pieces weren't so eager to annihilate one another."

"Oh? Then why don't they come out to play?" Yuri quirks the second most ridiculous eyebrow in the room. "Ah, that's right, they can't! They don't exist anymore! Not in a way that matters, anyway. It's just you now, isn't it?" He purses his lips, smirks. "So presumptuous of you, old man. Acting like I'm the only one here annihilating people. Though I suppose "people" is hardly an applicable term, in your case."

Aporia clenches his jaw. "That's completely different."

"So you agree then? That your little--what did you call them? Emperors? How adorable--you agree that they aren't people." That increasingly irritating smile splits into a vividly vicious grin. "Just spare parts necessary to becoming whole. They may as well be gears and screws." A giggle, starting small then blooming into a full blown cackle. "Though I guess they already are!"

"Enough!" Aporia bellows, snaps forward to swat Yuri away like a meddlesome housefly. He ducks out of reach, though, nimbly grabbing hold of a particularly thick braid of wires and shimmying up it like a climbing rope. With a pounce he lands on one of Aporia's pauldrons, still laughing as he settles into a precarious crouch.

"Awfully cranky for a so-called emotionless machine, aren't you?" Yuri snickers. "Admit it, we're far more alike than different! All I've done is just accelerate the same process you went through. You wiped your Emperors from existence to become yourself again, and when I absorb my last two stray fragments, well, then it will be my turn." His turn to hum now, as he admires his nails with a thoughtful frown. "Honestly, why bother dying on such a morally righteous hill over something that's such a simple matter, anyway? It's just mutual exclusivity! Our pieces weren't born--ahah, created, to be separate forever, don't kid yourself. We've always been the ultimate end goal."

His gaze snaps up, meets Aporia's scowl with snake-split pupils. "And the only way our lives get to truly flourish is if theirs reach an end." Something wicked sparks in those violet, inhuman eyes. "But I think you know that. Don't you, Aporia?"

What a truly… aggravating little insect. So adamant, so filled to the brim with blistering venom and malicious glee. Clinging to arrogance a little too tight, like a shaky hand grips a rapier. This boy with a truly nasty smile and an even nastier laugh.

It would be clawing its way through Aporia's emotionless walls, lighting a flame of exasperated fury inside him right now, if it wasn't so familiar.

Isn't this precisely what you would do, if you were that age again? Postured, plotted, picked at sore spots, just to see a reaction? Fought feverishly with any adult who'd dare try to argue with you? Defended your choices, one of the few things left still well and truly your own?

For a moment as Aporia stares Yuri down he can almost see a flicker of long red hair, a wild, gleaming green eye. It's all certainly what Lucciano would do, isn't it? Right down to the hysterical madman cackle. If he focuses, Aporia can access every inch of his components' memories within his circuits and systems, see all of the child Emperor's schemes and outbursts and chaotic leanings. And while Lucciano was a despair-driven, exaggerated facsimile of his childhood, Aporia needs only glance at those memories for mere seconds to see the true shades of himself within them, the lonely child from a future he now hopes will never come to pass. The lonely child who screamed and sobbed and lost the ones who loved him most. The lonely child who never truly stopped being afraid.

It's like gazing at a painting and all at once understanding it, suddenly seeing the 'how' and 'why' in every brushstroke. The despair of losing those who love you… maybe Yuri was spared such grief. Maybe he wasn't. Either way, Aporia can't fight the pang of sympathy that awakens and pushes through the cracks in his "emotionless" walls.

He's just a kid.

With a sigh, Aporia shifts, an uneven motion that almost-but-not-quite shakes Yuri off his shoulder. "I do admit," he says finally, slowly, "If I was the more foolish sort, I would almost believe your vicious resolve about all of this was quite the display of compensation."

That rattles Yuri out of his self-satisfied staredown. "What--!" he spits, bristling like a particularly ornery purple cat. "What are you getting at? I'm not compensating for anything, you miserable bag of bolts!"

Aporia doesn't flinch. Just sits, watches him.

An uncharacteristic redness creeps onto Yuri's face. He crinkles his nose, bares his teeth, before the thickening silence can grow too great. "Answer me!"

"Mm. It's nothing important. You simply remind me of someone." Aporia looks away, diverts his attention to the thick braids of wires plugged into his arm. Runs the back of his claws along their dull sheen. "He spent a very long time being scared and alone, too."

"Hah!" The laugh is high and loud and knifepoint dangerous. "And just what is that supposed to mean? Do you think I'm some sniveling little scared-of-the-dark toddler? Shaking in my boots, trying to hide behind my other pieces, so the big bad monsters don't get me? Please! I am the monster, Aporia. And I am not scared."

Aporia slowly turns his head to look back at Yuri. He can almost feel a pitiful smile playing at his lips. "You admit to the loneliness, then."

The glower he receives in response could burn a wheat field to cinders, but Aporia's mechanical senses are too fine-tuned to miss what comes before: a single split second of eyes going wide, mouth twitching into a mortified wince. A child caught with a thieving hand deep in the cookie jar. Aporia's turn to prod at a nerve, it seems.

It still comes so naturally to him after all.

"Hmph. Perhaps placing my admiration in you was a very stupid mistake." Yuri hisses finally. He tears his sour gaze away and, quick as a viper's strike, leaps from Aporia's shoulder back to the ground, cape fluttering behind him. "Fine! Stay on your high horse. I don't care." He turns, flashes a mean, toothy smile. "Just remember which of us obliterated more souls to be here." The smile quivers, coils once more into a grin just short of diabolical. "If we want to count machines as having souls, anyway. But, ah! That's a moral quandary for another time. Either way, hopefully I'll be matching your record soon!"

Yuri crows and cackles like it's the funniest joke in the world, and the wires and hardware that were once Lucciano thrum with a wave of kinship so strong it nearly re-acquaints Aporia with nausea.

"Ahh, well, anyway. This has been oh so… fun," Yuri's lip curls with disdain. "But I really must be going. I am terribly busy, after all. Do think of me when the world's in ruins soon, won't you?" His eyes cut one last noxious pink inspection over Aporia's hulking form, and he smiles almost sweetly. "Enjoy your rust. Ta ta!"

Then, with a flick of his wrist and a flourish of his cape, the boy is gone, turning on his heel and marching off to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what. Aporia sits in the silence of his cord and cable jungle for a moment, letting their charge course through his inner mechanisms, his beautiful heaven-touched form. He sighs again. Of course it's a fool's errand to get Yuri to see their differences, to understand the merits of shedding the human for the powerful and perfect machine. He knows the adamancy in one's opinion only a child can hold with such vicious gusto. Sometimes it's truly the only thing you have, at that age.

Somewhere inside him a child who will never exist again yearns for a friendship that will never be, and Aporia can't help but wish Yuri a safer, better future than he himself will ever know.

((WOW I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK LITERALLY LIKE 3 MONTHS TO GET TO, ANON i got so inspired by this i ran off into the woods and had to write a fic about it. :,)

I loooved loved loved thinking about the way these two Certified Danaguys would react to each other... the fact that theyre honestly kind of similar is making me a little sick in the head i must say. something something reuniting into one, embracing a divine individual identity (in organic and mechanical flavors,) plant vines vs power cables... never mind the fact lesterlucciano and yuri are definitely the same breed of sadistic cackling 12-14 year old little fucker and would probably get along like a house on fire.

there's a bit in tag force 6 on Aporia's route, where he comments on how he never got to have a normal childhood/play with other kids growing up, and how lucciano has that same desperate aching for connection with other people. i just definitely think he'd be able to see a similar loneliness in Yuri too, past the nasty venom. traumatized child recognizing traumatized child Big and a Lot. wahhh

tysm for this ask! got me writing again which is a big deal for me :3

(meanwhile in kansas au i think they would lock eyes at the beauty supply store when yuri is shoplifting mascara. aporia wont snitch tho <3)))

[eldritch-spouse]

What happened with original Icons? You know, Asmodues, Mammoth, Satan, etc. Where are they? Are they dead? Are they ancestors of modern Icons?

(Your aimless questions attract the attention of a humble historian, who, maybe out of pity, or perhaps out of loneliness, sits beside you. His posture is mildly concerning.)

" I can tell from the names alone you're the Christian type, right? You must be. "

(He nods to himself.)

" Do me a huge favor. It grates on my nerves having to listen to these fables getting perpetuated for endless centuries -Even my old man wouldn't shut the fuck up about it, may Dorem be kind to him- Forget everything you heard about the sins and the originals. "

" It's all wrong. All of it. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how bastardized the history of this planet and its annexes has been. By your kind specifically. You erased history! It's miserable! You've been living your little lies for a shameful eternity... I guess I understand why. "

(There's a huff.)

" You couldn't even get their names right... "

" Of course they're dead! Do you even know the rulers of today's Perdition? Dead and burned to a crisp, their ashes too probably bathe the grounds of the Rings modern demons walk upon -Oh, the Fragmentation Wars were something truly spectacular- I wish I had been there myself sometimes. "

" Listen kid. Even we have difficulty putting it all back together, thanks to all this damage being constantly spread. I know demons who are more disconnected with their past than you- At least you know there's Icons out there! I've met some fucking skid marks that think 'Satan' is still bumbling around... "

" I'll tell you right now, three of 'em got nothing to do with the originals. Vorticia, Livius and Kalymir. "

(He tuns to face you better.)

" You know how Wrath is, right? Any nut can just have a go at the King, and if they win, they rule. Kalymir doesn't have a single royal bone to him. And that fucker's got a lot of bones... "

" Vorticia is an impeccable Queen, if you ask me. She's better than whatever the fresh fuck Gluttony could have got stuck with, but we're mostly positive she comes from adjacent families. Close to the court, y'know? "

" And Livius... It's a bit hard to tell with all the massacres in Envy's royal lineage, though you can probably safely bet that he was a cousin of the last prince. An ambitious cousin, eh? They say 'keep your friends close but your enemies closer'- I don't think it worked out that well for him. Keep Livius ten feet away from you at all times, those hands reach far. "

" Don't worry about any of that though. If you ask me, us history enthusiasts are going to have some bright days ahead, now that there's two whole highers settled on the surface. "

(A tail can be heard swatting beneath long, weathered robes.)

" Two of them, you hear me? You and I? We're going to bare witness to a new age! Aren't you excited?! "

" We're talking about THE Goddess Miara and the Plaguemaster -You don't even know who those are, you poor idiot, it's not your fault- And I just know they're in contact. I know it! "

(The demonoid coughs, scratchy voice cracking.)

" Anyway. We should talk more sometime. "

(You get the feeling he wants company really bad.)

[ruthplaysthesims]

Logan Slater Goofball • Clumsy • Cheerful

"O-Oh! Hey there! I didn't know we had guests over.. Pardon the mess. What brings you here? Oh? You wanna know about me? and the others?? Of course. Well, I try to get along with all of them... but I don't seem to get along with Xander and Launce. Maybe because I accidentally spilled Launce's "special juice" on Xander and he had to be in the hospital for the night... I swear it wasn't on purpose! There was a banana peel on the floor. Darius? He's AWESOME!! He taught me how to play football and taught me how to score a date... I was stood up... But that's okay!! Where a door closes another one opens. Well I hope you have fun. Gotta go! There's a new pizzeria I've been wanting to try. Byeee!!"

Darius Johnson Active • Romantic • Loyal

"Yoo! What's good gang? What brings you to this corner? Logan sent you here? Bless his heart. I was about to go hit the gym but I guess we can hang out for a bit. Glad you're here by the way. How you feelin'? Me? I'm alright. Life is good. My relationship to Logan? He's a cool dude. A little clumsy but that ain't gon stop me from being friends with him. Heard he got stood up.. I felt bad, so I took him to get some noodles. What? He said I was awesome? Aww. I wish the others could see what I saw. But hey, their opinions can't change that easy soo..."

Alexander Huntsman Genius • Hot Headed • Ambitious

"And who is this? How'd you get here? Logan let you in?! That darn leprechaun!! It's because of him my face is tattered like this!! AND NOW HE'S LETTING STRANGERS INTO OUR HOME?!!... Whatever. At least that other buff jerk will keep him away! I'm moving soon anyway.. What do you want?! Oh. I see. Well people that I let in my circle call me Xander. You call me Alexander, got it?! good. Now if you'll excuse me. I have some things that are worth attending to."

Launce Alastair Snob • Perfectionist • Loves Outdoors

"Who dares disturb me? I am in the middle of making a potio- erm, a concoction.. but you seem to have interrupted me. Perhaps I should turn you into a frog... or a gnome. Mr. Whimsy has been feeling quite lonely you see. sigh, I cannot tolerate these goons.. my relationship with Xander is merely that of a mentor and a cunning apprentice. I could care less about the others.. Friendships are nothing but a joke. In life, dearest, you must learn to use your head. For the heart can lead to nothing but deceit and malice. I hope you take this to heart. Farewell for now "

A brief into to the boys

[kissesandarsenic]

Your werewolves just gave me an idea. I'm not very practiced at writing out my fantasies so I'll just put some points of interest and ask for a trick to see what I get back. I'm Frankenstein's monster all big n dumb, made from different parts of different people, and get stimulated by electricity.

Limits are no scat, no necro unless it like brings me back to life. That's it. Trick

A scorned scientist has spent years researching and collecting the perfect parts to assemble you in their eerie and glorious estate.

You'd have a hard time pinning them as a scientist at first glance. But despite their many... eccentricities, they are in fact, a genius. A genius that is taking on their most ambitious creation to date.

Everyone in the field says they're crazy, that what they're attempting is deranged and goes against God. But they don't care. It can be done. It will be done. They're just perfecting the science of it. Taking their time. Stewing.

And then one fateful night, in the middle of a freak storm, lightening strikes the laboratory and you are alive.

Strange, confused (and a little bit dumb, but we love a Himbo) you. Sure, there's scars all over you and there's some mixing and matching in skin tones of your different parts. But you're beautiful, absolutely perfect. Your creator is so proud and utterly obsessed.

You see they didn't just create you as a vanity project. Oh no, you were always set to be of more use than that. A companion, if you will. Perhaps the term creation-with-benefits could be used here.

In order to get you "ready" you have to be stimulated by the same stuff that brought you back to life. The harder the shock, the longer that gorgeous thick cock of yours will last fucking your creator stupid.

You develop a tolerance for the pain, because as well as being a genius, your master has an insatiable last and will chase you around the house, platform heels and all, to get their fill.

But it's not all bad, sometimes they have guests over. New people to "play" with and marvel at your strength and physiche. One thing's for sure, despite your grievances, you'll never have to complain of boredom while you're here.

Trick or Treat Ask Game! Send in a fantasy with a "Trick" or "Treat" attached and I'll elaborate on it!

[glyphknight]

**Hey, friends. What are you planning to do this Apogee Solstice?**

Essek: Knitting furiously to distract me from the temptation to do something very ambitious and stupid and wonderful and I wonder what possibilities...? Maybe we can make a time-warp demiplane and finally learn the secrets of the Lux…no no no! Help Caleb. I’m just helping Caleb. But we could probably look into a few things together. That should be fine…right…?

Yussa: Oh, I am 100% making my own time warp demiplane. *is already casting*

Ludinus: Releasing a god-eater that haunts the moon so I can kill all the gods. This will definitely go exactly as planned and not have any massive collateral damage. And if it does kill a bunch of innocent people or ruin the world as we know it it’ll be worth it. Even though I’ve left a long trail of accidental collateral damage over the past century alone, the face-eating red moon leopard will definitely not eat my face because I am a genius. No, I am not being manipulated. That is preposterous. I refer you to my previous statement regarding my genius.

Astrid: Tapping into my inner Laerryn-meets-Portia to learn some great arcane feat for myself and make my mark on history and also situate myself to take over the Assembly if Ludinus ever gets his face eaten off by some metaphorical or literal magical face-eating leopard. Also spying on literally everyone. (But that’s just a Tuesday for me.)

Caleb: Ja, well, I had wanted to study Leylines and perhaps make a new rainbow castle on another plane for my friends, but I guess I’m stopping all these ****ing wizards now.

Allura: I am also stopping the wizards. *sigh* Kima, I’ll be home late…

Planerider Ryn: I did my part. Got turned into a statue. Think I'm gonna vacay in the Astral Sea for a bit.

Eadwulf: *somewhere, holding a very powerful mysterious glowing MacGuffin that just revealed itself with the coming of the Solstice* *stares at it* Ja, cool. *pockets it*

[akitasimblr]

DAVID HARPER, ERNEST HARPER, QUEENIE HARPER & ALANA WEST-HARPER - FOR @flocy-sims LEGACY

i am sending you the twins david harper & ernest harper, queenie harper and alana west-harper for your legacy, let's hope they behave! more about them below.

david is a rebel. He does not have a determined direction; he goes where the wind takes him. It’s easy to find him crashing at his sister or twin brother’s house after some crazy night in san myshuno. He will settle eventually, just not sure when. He is not drawn to romantic relationships, it actually requires a lot of friendship and intimacy (and not strictly in the physical sense) for him to fall for someone. David does not believe in love at first sight, for him love has to be nurtured and cared for in the long run. He’s not a one-night stand kind of guy. Right now he still lives at his parents’ house in Britechester and after much parental pressure he finally got a part-time job as barista. You can say he is not the ambitious type. He loves a good laugh and a bit of mischief to color our lives. He is a geek for video games and he - might - indulge in some hacking as well. Which reminds me of a story he usually boasts about of when he got inside the landgraab’s system… oh! wait! that’s a secret!

ernest is an acclaimed musician. He has an identical twin named David. He is a virtuoso pianist and violinist and plays in the worldwide known Simsonian Orchestra. Ernest loves all classic and baroque music and it’s hard to find anything he loves just as much. For an outsider, Ernest has an enviable life, he has achieved professional realization, he travels all around the simlish world with the orchestra, he does what he loves but Ernest Harper is a sad, unhappy soul. He had his heart broken and he has never been able to fall in love again. He has been a loner. Ernest has a timid, gloomy character. But Ernest’s gloomy soul hides the most tender, sensitive and loving character, if only one knows how to break his walls…

queenie was born amongst the rich and famous society of del sol with both of her parents being renowned actors. she was always very pampered as a kid and everyone thought she’d follow her parents’ example and become an actor. but no. her tastes and talents led her to another branch of the movie industry: designs and wardrobes.  queenie has an exquisite obsession with anything fashion related and she is brilliant at what she does.  sweet queenie might be vain and perhaps too self-conscious of her public image; but she’s a kind soul with the patience of a saint. mark my words, this girl knows how to keep a secret, she’s the best confidant you’ll ever find, if only you show she can trust you. 

alana west-harper is the mischievous kind. she got that from her dad, i bet! alana is an expert in all fandoms you can think of. even those underground, alternative, sketchy fandoms no one knows about? well, she knows! alana is the ultimate geek. alana went to foxbury university to study villainy and oh my watcher! she graduated with honors. i expect great things from this girl... like worldwide robery kind of greatness, you know? but don't get me wrong, she is not evil, okay? she just likes to do things her way. and sometimes 'her way' does not exactly mean lawful... but hey! she gets things done in the end of the day!

[hupla222]

Episode 75: Extra Thoughts

I said plenty of stuff last time and yet I still find there's stuff that I missed. Oh well, it's to be expected. Yesterday was a huge episode for sure.

Anyway, the first thing I want to touch on is something I briefly mentioned last time, that being Gibeon's mental state. Maybe I'm just pessimistic but I don't believe the Laquium is fully to blame for Gibeon's evil behavior. It may have made it worse but I don't think it caused it. Seems to me he had always been ambitious and looking for power and the Laquium amplified that. Perhaps that simply the effect it has on people, not Pokémon but people. Enhancing and perpetually amplifying certain traits and possibly life spans as well. Either way I do hope we won't see Gibeon being reformed within the show. I'd like to have at least one other unredeemable bad guy since Amethio, Coral, and Sidian are certainly able to see the light. With Spinel and Chalce on the other side, I'd just like to see it evened out, you know?

Something else I failed to humor was if anything presented here effected main big theory (surely some must have been a little curious). I'd have to say that nothing is different about my theory. Nothing in the flashback disproved anything nor did it confirm anything, the theory stays the same. And the Spinel bit only did a bit of confirming for me since I had previously said he doesn't consider Sidian a threat to him (in fact he seems to actively disregard him and look down on him with contempt), relative of Gibeon's it doesn't matter. Poor boy is too much of a follower to ever be a threat to this maniac. So, yeah, I still believe in brothers theory especially since we have yet to see Gibeon's son or even his wife(?) / baby mama.

Another thing, I finally have some explanation for those crystal things the Six Heroes keep giving Terapagos. Seems like they are memories that the little turtle gave them, imbued with some of his power. Perhaps to remind them of their friend when he sent them away. Still not sure if that's what made them huge though, Moltres looked pretty big there. Speaking of Lucius, I'm not sure what to expect when the gang reached Laqua. I don't think he'll be dead, they couldn't summon him at the Crystal Pool after all. But who knows what sort of state he'll be in. I'll just continue running with my theory that he'll be enclosed within the crystals like I had before this episode came out. But I have to ask, was it really necessary for him to be in the dome with the Laquium too?

[y-rhywbeth2]

Tripping over a possible BG3 epilogue; how do you think the ascension of a new god of Ambition would impact Bane? Is Bane even still a god after Jergal shoos him away? Is there a court battle involved, or are Tyranny and Ambition hashing out jurisdiction and territory through mortal minions? Who tops this relationship? (is power dependent on the nature of the portfolio or the number of followers? because Gale has like 7 friends and a cat)

Bane definitely would try to take the portfolio, if he saw an opportunity (as would a few other gods. Lolth springs to mind). It's not guaranteed that he would succeed - he tried and failed to take war from Tempus - but ambition suits him very well and he'd want it.

Or he'd try to subjugate the new god of ambition and add him to the roster of 'servants.' With both of them having terrifically bad relationships with Mystra, whose power I imagine both covet, alliances wouldn't necessarily be out of the picture, but, oh, the ego clash. ... and in this moment I feel it in my waters: somebody somewhere ships god-Gale and Bane. Or possibly just Gale/Bane.

Or if Bane and Gale end up fighting, it's possible that Gale and Mystra would have to grit their teeth and play nice for a bit.

A god of ambition could theoretically take a chunk out of Bane's pool of worshippers, as many of them are the ruthlessly ambitious looking to climb the ranks. But mostly they're going to end up sharing worshippers, because these people are going to be making offerings to both.

As an out-of-universe thing, ultimately, Gale would lose ground to Bane just like Cyric did. Simply because of the status-quo of the setting. Bane is apparently one of those annoying inescapable, fundamental cornerstones of the settings existence. He's slightly everywhere and it drives me insane.

He's the BBEG. When 3.5e rolled around Bane was the one of the Dead Three they brought back. He's in paragraphs in books that should have nothing to do with him. Bane is fucking inescapable.

And not to diminish Gale's delightful levels hubris but I'm... actually not sure that Gale is more ambitious than Bane, though I'd certainly be interested to see that theory tested. Perhaps Gale simply hasn't had enough decades, world shaking plots and insane god-killing challenges to power through to show that he's the most ambitious.

As for the rest of it... oh, the nonsense that is 5e and divine rank on Toril, with BG3 making it even more confusing. Because we can't go an edition without fucking with the gods, nooo, that'd make life too easy...

A god's power is still determined by the amount of worship they receive, as far as I know. Worship given out of love and devotion is worth more than that given out of fear (hence why the dead three have more 'pleasant' aspects as a bringer of law/stability, a custodian of the dead and the dying, and a bringer of retributive violence to the desperate... and why Bhaal is the weakest out of the three, because even 'good' murder is not in high demand, so he's not seeing much devotion outside of his loving and loyal homicidal maniacs).

Bane is still a god; we're never truly getting rid of him any more than we're getting rid of Mystra.

How much power he's supposed to have escapes me. The Dead Three have been described as walking Faerûn in to bypass restrictions placed on the gods at the end of the Sundering (meant to keep gods from messing directly with the mortal world). And that's all the information I have on that. Presumably it's a Time of Troubles type deal: they can hang around in a non-corporeal state or possess mortals as avatars (and change to a new host when one dies). They can still do some miracles, draw power from their worshippers and grant divine magic, so long as their worshippers are in range. Their divine domains remain intact, even if they can't visit.

Here Gale technically has a minor advantage, standing at the rank just above quasi-deity, so he should have more power. But he also has less experience, a less established/influential church, less followers, less allies, more restrictions...

Gale has maybe 7 friends he can maybe call on. He doesn't have a cat, as Tara can't bear to look at him. He can make an army of not-Taras though, I guess. At six months old, I'm not sure Gale's done much divine networking yet. His best bets if he wants to fight Bane are Bane's old enemies: Torm, Cyric (nope), Mystra (HA!), Tempus, Helm, Lathander (probably your best bet), Oghma (allied with Mystra), and Ilmater (who is a bit humble to be getting along with Ambition)

I'd say Tempus and Lathander will have the most overlap.

Assuming the Dead Three and their alliances still stand, Bane can call on both Bhaal and Myrkul for aid, as well as Loviatar, Talona and Mask. If Bhaal and Myrkul still have their old alliances then Hoar and Shar might be convinced to get involved under the right circumstances.

There's also an obstacle keeping any friction between them low because Gale can't do anything much on Toril, actively, and the Dead Three are currently barred from the planes, so they can't reach each other to do anything unless they act through their priesthoods (although I guess the Three could personally murder his followers and burn his temples; Gale would have to direct his followers to counter this or attack them, he can't do it directly).

If Bane wasn't hanging out on Toril then they'd still be fighting mostly through their mortal worshippers. Although I imagine they'd have interesting interactions on Cynosure (a neutral meeting ground for the gods, connecting all their domains).

[filledbythemonster]

Man, looking at this is a word program looks a lot longer than it comes out here.

Oh My God

This adult content. Under 18s DNI.

3/5

 The what? I shove his hand out the way and grope the new swell of my belly.

“Do I feel them move already?” He coos.

“I…” I swear my fingers are being spread wider in mere seconds.

“You are doing so well.” He places a hand over mine.  “Soon they will arrive.”

I wanted this. 

That doesn’t mean this isn’t shocking.

“Enjoy yourself, Flower.” He climbs onto the bed and straddles my legs, careful not to put any pressure. Using both hands he covers my growing form. “You’re going to get so big.”

His words cause me to shiver.

“I put quintuplets in you. A bit ambitious perhaps but I will keep you safe.”

I can make out my growing belly in the darkness and any fear gets shoved away. I look about 6 months along with a single pregnancy already.

Seven. 

Eight. 

I explore the expanding surface.

I feel something… movement.

“I… I feel them.”  His hands join mine again. I look up to his form hunched but still hulking over me. I can see long dark hair catching light in the darkness and the curl of horns from his head. Something appears to be roped around one of the horns. He smells like the earth. Like the still before a storm. Pine trees and spring flowers. 

 What is he?

“No. Nothing.” He sounds disappointed but his tone quickly changes. “I’ll give it a few moments.”

As my belly pushes his hands apart pride and arousal swell even greater.

“Right there.” I pat his hand where I feel movement. 

“Ah there you are.” Careful with his horns he leans down and nuzzles my belly on the spot and I see his dark profile eclipse the pale orb. He’s become so playful I feel giddy. “You’re a natural, Flower.”

What does that mean and why does it feel so good?

I'm almost twin size now. I imagine what it would look like to waddle around my apartment. My heavy belly altering my normal gait. Maybe I would exaggerate a little. None of my clothes would fit.  Under my skin a flurry of activity races across my belly. 

“They’re getting crowded in there.” With a hand on each side of my belly he rubs with his thumbs. “They are strong.”

I beam and struggle to lace my fingers together under my belly. I can just make it.

“Beautiful.” He whispers. I sense a hint of awe in his voice and feel my cheeks turn red. I cross my arms over my chest in a protective reflex.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He carefully pulls my arms away. “Look at yourself. You are thousands of generations of mothers unending.  You are a symbol of desire. Your desire. You called to me. You weren’t ashamed to let your needs be known and right now you need to let yourself be proud.” 

I look down at my belly past my parting breasts. I arch my back a little causing my belly to brush my visitor’s chest as he leans over me. I imagine the space between us full of my womb, possibly pushing him back.

“I want to get bigger.” I pull his face forward. Noses smushing, missing his lips at first but finding them and kissing deeply. “I always want to be full of the lives we created.”

[breelandwalker]

hi, i'm currently potted plant witching as well (just planted my first crop of veggie/herb/flower seeds & got some more containers & soil today for more planting this weekend) and i would love to know more about your garden this year; would you be willing to outline your plans? any special herbs or projects? Thanks!! <3 love your blog!

🌿🌿🌿 HYPERFIXATION ACTIVATED. 🌿🌿🌿

OH I HAVE SO MANY PLANS, LET ME TELL YOU.

This is the first year that Ragnar and I are doing actual work and sweat equity with the yard at our new place. Last year things were just too chaotic and we didn't have the time or the energy to do much of anything. We trimmed occasionally and I harvest some wild plants, but that was about it.

This year, it's Go Time.

Last weekend, I finally busted out the gorgeous barrel pots we got for Christmas and spent my April market earnings on potting soil, garden tools, and seedlings. When we lived in the apartment, I had a pretty hefty window garden with herbs and flowers and a few vegetables, so I'm eager to recreate that in an outdoor space where the plants can really thrive. (I mean, I grew cherry tomatoes and three kinds of peppers in 10" pots indoors and they got pretty big, so I can only imagine being outdoors will go even better with fresh air and rain and pollinators.)

The potted garden has Napoli tomatoes, poblano and cayenne peppers, green sage, and rosemary, along with something I've never tried growing before - blueberries! I'm planning to add additional pots and more herbs later on, but I felt like this was a really good start. If I can manage it, I want to grow a huge planter of nothing but spinach and sweet basil so I can make pesto this summer.

We've also started clearing and tilling a space out in the yard proper for a raised-bed garden. Nothing too big or ambitious, just something we can try some larger veggies in. We're hoping to try the Three Sisters model with hybrid corn, snap peas, green beans, and kabocha pumpkins. I was also hoping to put in napa cabbage, but there are quite a lot of slugs in the yard when it rains, so perhaps not. I'm toying with the idea of planting some late crops for fall and winter harvests as well. I have sugarplum visions of strings of peppers and braids of garlic hanging in our kitchen with many jars of preserves and sauce in the pantry.

We might also try some other fruits if things go well, maybe raspberries or grapes, but that's more of a Next Summer project. The fence and the ground around it needs some work first and we don't want to overdo things the first year. (I'd really love to put in a little serviceberry tree, but that might be pushing things a bit with regard to space.)

There's also a side garden that's in need of some TLC where I'm vaguely tossing around the idea of climbing flower vines (clematis or morning glory or trumpet flower maybe? something local) and maybe some ground cover in the form of periwinkle. There's also a downspout that really needs a rain barrel, so that's next on the list.

There are sections of the yard that we've deliberately left wild as well, hoping to encourage native plants and pollinators. The clover patches are massive and produce lots of four-leafers and blossoms, so the bees are having a field day. There's also wild dogbane sprouting up now that the vetchweed is cleared and wild plantain (aka white man's foot) starting to come in along the walkway. If I have my druthers, I'll be planting more wildflowers this summer.

Have some pictures and tell me about your garden!