#lord so many ship kids

[waltzing-rats]

Ok so for the past months my brain has been screaming nothing but Demon Slayer so i scrounged up this poster of basically an ‘Everybody lives and theyre all happy’ au. Redesigning them was honestly such a pain but still fun 😭

[forvirresky]

I NEED RAIN WORLD MUTUALS!!!!! GENUINELY PLEASE!!! I DONT KNOW ANYONE ELSE IN MY CIRCLE WHOS AS INTO THE GAME AS ME!!!!! i need to obsess over spec bio stuff and general bio stuff with someone PLEASE!! gamedev stuff!! environment stuff!! music stuff!! anything omg

[angstflavoured]

A little fiddauthor analysis...

Making this post mostly just to get all of my thoughts out about it regarding how I think it is inherently very toxic on both ends, despite people treating it as more wholesome near the beginning when they were both younger… and the fact that I think it’s very incredibly one-sided. I’m strictly going to be talking about CANON events, not headcanons or speculations or AU’s. If you wanna draw Fiddleford and Ford being cute and hugging and dating, I don’t care, I like a lot of the content for them myself. It isn’t canon to the show and doesn’t affect or harm anybody. That’s what a fandom is and I’m not trying to police anyone, I just think a lot of people misinterpret their relationship and thought it would be fun to talk about it because I find their dynamic really interesting. I’m going to be using a lot of direct quotes and scenes from Ford’s journal, TBOB, and the show, so buckle in baby ! This was supposed to be a quicker and smaller one while I work on my Billford essay, but I had a lot more to say than I thought…

First off, it’s interesting to see how Ford thinks their interaction after so long is going to go. In Journal 3 he says he has “no choice” but to call Fiddleford up to work on the portal because Ford just doesn’t have the smarts to do what he wants to do himself, and he thinks he’s going to have to literally beg Fiddleford to join him. But as we see in the journal and in the show, it hardly takes ANY convincing at all for Fiddleford to drop everything he was doing and leave his wife and kid for months on end to work on a project he knows nothing about. All the info he has he got over a short phone call. It seems like Ford, at this point being so close with Bill and thinking he’s the only one who cares about him, just assumed that most people he used to talk with don’t think about him anymore. He’s had Bill whispering in his ear that he’s the only one who understands him, so it makes sense he doesn’t think Fiddleford will want to do this with him. But from what it looks like, Fiddleford either has been waiting every second for Ford specifically to get back to him, or just has been waiting for any excuse to get the hell away from his family which is… yeesh. Either way, not very healthy regarding his wife and kid. He doesn’t seem to really care all that much about either of them, but more on that later.

Obviously Ford cares about Fiddleford, as soon as he comes down to live with him, Ford hasn’t been so happy in a good while. He missed human connection, despite how good things were going with Bill. Having another person there to talk with was nice. Despite Fiddleford having strange quirks that did irk Ford, he found them endearing and genuinely felt better in his company.

But I think the biggest thing here a lot of people overlook is that Ford only ever refers to Fiddleford as his college buddy in the show, and in the journals as “my assistant.” I’ve seen so many people have Ford call him his partner, but he actually only calls him this like once in the show i think. It’s always my assistant, my research, my theory. Which is funny because Ford didn’t come up with any of this stuff with the portal on his own. Bill was the one that gave him the blueprints. Fiddleford even questions Ford at one point, asking if he had help coming up with them because of how complex they are, and Ford decidedly DOESN’T mention Bill and instead tells him “with hard work, anything is possible.” (Btw he does refer to Bill as his partner multiple times… just sayin.)

The way he talks to and about Fiddleford, Ford is always talking down. He does think that Fiddleford is smart and does think he has a brilliant mind, but he still thinks that he’s below him.

Because Ford has Bill.

And oh my lord, do I not see anyone talk about this. Soooo many comics always depict Fiddleford knowing about Bill existence, but I think the biggest roadblock with their ship and a huge point of contention is that Fiddleford never canonically knows about Ford’s relationship with Bill until after he’s already lost his mind when he’s old. He doesn’t even KNOW that he exists until he’s half sucked through the portal. People ignore this, but it’s so important to their dynamic. Ford doesn’t think that Fiddleford could handle it, and he doesn’t think he necessarily deserves to know. Because Bill is Fords thing. Their relationship is special. Ford is special.

Ford claims he doesn’t tell Fiddleford about Bill because he would throw him in a looney bin, despite their research being so whimsical and ridiculous already. They’re literally building a portal to a different dimension, Fiddleford would’ve believed him. And the way Ford talks about it, you can tell it’s less about Fiddleford thinking he’s crazy and more about something else.

Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?

He doesn’t think Fiddleford could APPRECIATE it. The language he uses, you can tell that Ford knows that Fiddleford would see right through Bill’s facade. And Ford doesn’t want that because he wants to be friends with Bill and he wants to be special, and he’d rather hide Bill and stay in denial than tell his dearest friend, just so he can feel special a little longer.

This is why I think as much as Fiddleford’s romantic feelings for Ford were there, it never ended up going anywhere. Ford would always choose Bill over him. When Fiddleford got him the axolotl pet, Ford quickly threw it out and lied about it to Fiddleford just because Bill told him to. And there’s multiple cases of interactions like this, where Bill will talk down about Fiddleford and Ford will just be like damn… yeah. Here’s a journal excerpt from TBOB around Christmas time. For context, Ford got into a huge fight with a monster and tried to contact Bill to help him, but he didn’t come. And then Bill randomly shows up later when Ford’s at home decorating.

I was almost roasted by Krampus, and where was he? Off inspiring some other scientist? Posing for some tapestry? Were we even partners? He threw the accusation back in my face. “Hey, I’m not the one skipping portal work to carouse with a third-wheel hillbilly with second thoughts about our project!” I started to argue--but he had a point. F has seemed less and less committed to work lately.

Which is INSANE !!! when we see that only a fucking page ago, Fiddleford was explaining how he got in a fight with his wife because he didn’t get her a present for Christmas. After spending multiple weeks and making multiple prototypes for a pair of 6 fingered gloves for Ford.

And if we hop back to Journal 3, there’s a particular interaction with them which is crazy to me. While hiking up a mountain to go to Crash Site Omega, they get into a fight with the Gremloblin, which fucking swoops up Fiddleford into the sky. In Ford’s attempt to get him down, they both end up falling down through the roof of a barn, where Fiddleford gets stuck full of quills and breaks his arm.

Despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant. I was able to treat his physical wounds, but I fear there are mental wounds not as easily remedied. For the past several nights, he has been unable to sleep, apparently still haunted by the Gremloblin’s gaze. More alarming is his Cubic’s Cube. It has sat scrambled, unfixed, on his desk for days. I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive than I realized…

OH. MY. GOD. The way that Ford talks so condescendingly is enough to make any person's blood boil. It’s the same way when Fiddleford gets sucked through the portal, and when Fiddleford gets pulled back, Ford’s first words out of his mouth are “WHAT DID YOU SEE!”

As much as he cared for Fiddleford… he has no regard at all for Fiddlefords VERY VALID feelings about events that would traumatize literally anyone. But he just pats Fiddlefords back and tells him to get used to it because this is just part of the job and he shouldn’t be whining so much. He does nothing to properly comfort him and scoffs it off like “apparently he’s ‘TRAMATIZED’ or something. I’ve been through so much worse and never had a problem, I don’t get what his issue is.” And then ford is SURPRISED AND APPALLED when Fiddleford creates the memory gun.

Which oohhhhh lord, the memory gun. jesus christ. Such a big example of the distrust between them on both sides. Fiddleford literally canonically lied about destroying the gun and then erased Fords memory about it so that he could erase his own memories in secret without him knowing. And also probably fords sometimes! Not completely canon, but like…. Fiddleford did it once, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. And then when they go to the carnival, Fiddleford hands out his fucking card to Ivan (the leader of the society of the blind eye, who was a teen/early 20s at the time) so that he can erase memories for him that he didn’t like.

Biggest thing we can take away from everything regarding Fiddleford’s character, is that he always takes the easy way out. He ran away from his family he obviously didn’t really care for as much as he should’ve because that was easier than talking it out or divorcing. He pushed it aside for later. Bro was literally looking for a fucken Brokeback Mountain situation, but Ford wasn’t giving anything back to him. So instead Fiddleford constantly made a fool of himself doing things for Ford and tripping over himself to show his gratitude when all the while Ford was entirely focused on Bill. and then he just goes around and starts erasing memories, because it’s easier than having to actually deal with things. Which is why I don’t foresee a reality in which Fiddauthor makes sense, in the way they actually end up doing anything together. Because Fiddleford’s too much of a coward to admit his feelings first, and Ford obviously has his sights on someone else.

And here’s the BIGGEST damning thing, like oh my god.

In Journal 3, Ford goes to a fortune teller (which don’t get me fucking started on how judgy he is to her and how much he talks down about her, DESPITE HER BEING LEGIT AND ACTUALLY WARNING HIM). Long story short, she gives Ford a spiel about how someone close to him is deceiving him. She then gives him a mood ring and says “when this is blue, you may pull through. When this is black, you can’t turn back.”

And LO AND BEHOLD!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, when they’re at the carnival and Fiddleford is talking to Ivan and whispering--

Ford. Looks down. To check if the ring is black.

I took one last look down at my hand and was strangely relieved to find that the palm reader’s ring was still blue. I shoved it in my pocket, collected F, and tried to put the whole experience out of my mind.

FORD LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE IDEA OF FIDDLEFORD BETRAYING HIM BEFORE BILL. IN FACT, HE LITERALLY NEVER MENTIONS THINKING IT WAS BILL ONCE.

He talks about how they got into a fight at dinner the night before the portal test because Fiddleford was having second thoughts about it being dangerous, and Ford told him to be there or he would get left behind. He’d do it without him.

And when Fiddleford gets pulled through the portal and quits the project, Ford says gooooddd fucking riddance, I never even needed you bro.

F, you weak-willed hayseed! Go back to your doting family and a life of fear and compromise! I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away. To think I considered him a friend! I know my true friend. It is my Muse.

One of the few times he ever refers to it as partnership btw. Literally only when they break everything off.

And Ford only starts fighting with Bill about everything after it starts directly hurting him. It literally just seems like Ford is less upset about Bill’s plan being evil, and more upset at the fact that he lied to Ford LMAOOOOO he didn’t like the fact that he was disposable and lesser to Bill, despite Ford treating Fiddleford the exact same way.

At the end of all of this… it may seem like I’m really fighting against this ship, but not in the slightest. I LOVEEEE them so much, but in a way where it would be really toxic and not actually end up with anything happening.

Such a biggg theme when it comes to Ford’s character specifically is yearning. He yearns for success and attention and love and acceptance, but he’s constantly never giving other people those things. Which ends in him not receiving any in return. That is obviously until he gets back from dimension hopping and works on being a better person. When he starts towards healing, that’s when he starts receiving what he always wanted.

There’s so much tension between Ford and Fiddleford it's like disgusting, they were so incredibly gay… but, I hate to say it, it was very one-sided. They did have some fun times together and Ford enjoyed his company for quite a bit, but it was nothing like how Fiddleford felt for him. Fiddleford was always thinking about how Ford was feeling and what he was doing, and Ford never really did that for Fiddleford unless he was prompted to. But he was alwayasyayayss thinking about how Bill felt. And he always chose Bill in the end.

I just see so much of all of this get swept under the rug and never addressed, when it's kind of sad because it’s all so interesting and really adds a lot to both of their characters. They were both so morally gray back in their day, and honestly even more so now that they’re older, and its kinda sad to see that all go ignored. I JUST LOVE TOXIC GAYS SM AND THEY WERE SO TOXIC AND I’D LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE EXPLORE THAT MORE. Hopefully maybe this will prompt some people to think about it like this…….. It’s all so very tragic and their relationship was doomed from the start and i loveeeee shit like that. only misery to be had...

[britcision]

GANG I AM SURE IT IS OLD NEWS BUT I HAVE BEEN DOING MATH AND LEMME TELL YOU A FUCKING THING

EXHIBIT A: MITHRUN’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

EXHIBIT B: KABRU’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

EXHIBIT C: MILSIRIL’S COMIC PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

HYPOTHESIS: Milsiril was bare minimum visiting, caring for, and feeding Mithrun at points in his timeline between year 480 (trying to recover) and 500 (appointed as a captain - this is also noted to have happened immediately when he was fit for work, since they were running out of people)

In the comic, Milsiril specifically references Utaya (year 499, from Kabru’s timeline - it’s the only demon incident in Utaya), as she uses the incident with the demon in Utaya to get Mithrun to eat and get his act together

Kabru lived with Milsiril in the elven capital from year 499 to 510

Milsiril specifically dislikes and avoids other elves… now with the apparent exception of Mithrun, who she thinks she might have quite liked pre-nuking

Milsiril would not want to go to Mithrun’s family estate and deal with his entire family every time to take care of him… and they may not have been keen on her dolls or cooking

The only thing we know about Mithrun and his family is that he hated his brother, and visits him every five years (brother has extended a permanent invitation for Mithrun to visit any time pretty sure Mithrun overestimates how much his brother cared/noticed he didn’t like him)

His parents deadass aren’t mentioned except to note that he’s the bastard child, and his parents ignored his older brother. There’s an implication here that they preferred Mithrun… until they sent him to a death squad

Milsiril has a repeatedly-mentioned tendency to take in strays, usually kids of short-lived peoples, and strong nurturing instincts that may/may not be pretty dehumanizing

CONCLUSION: there is a non-zero chance that Mithrun and Kabru LIVED TOGETHER FOR A FUCKING YEAR post Utaya at Milsiril’s house and just didn’t even fucking notice

I am losing my mind

This is incredible

Mithrun deadass coulda been The Crazy Uncle In The Attic for a full fucking year

He was busy going feral and blaming himself for Utaya cuz it “could have been different” if he’d been there and recovered for the same fucking year THE LAST SURVIVOR OF UTAYA was in the next room

What kind of unhinged interactions did they have

Kabru was fucking SEVEN the state of Mithrun in that comic woulda fucking RETRAUMATIZED HIM any mention of him being a dungeon lord???? NOPE

We know from the changeling incident that Mithrun barely considered Kabru a distinct person so 0% chance he would ever put it together but KABRU

Kabru is an observant little thot and his favourite thing is making assumptions from his observations

Just a MENTION of Milsiril and Kabru shoulda been all up on that

Mithrun FULLY DID mention her as Milsiril the Gloomy when exposing his backstory and Kabru just… tossed every single name in the garbage

(Which, fair. Elves live a long time, the odds of there being only one Milsiril are 0% and she wasn’t all that gloomy with Kabru, and, frankly, he had bigger concerns named Laios Touden)

Ugh too much too many bits Otta’s comic includes them actually talking about his adoptive mom but without names they were SO CLOSE I am going insane

Fanfiction

So much fanfiction

It MUST be post Kabru/Mithrun this ship is all angst and tbh the whole “desiring someone who can’t desire” is only gonna consternate Kabru for so long so once that is done I want a slice of “WAIT A FUCKING SECOND you’re the guy in the attic???????”

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf

Epilouge

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 2,212

CW: MDI, 18+, refrences to pregenacy, miscariges stillbirths and death, happy ending! lots of fluff (all the bad tags where small and lead to a very fluff, not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part |

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: this epilouge is largely based of cregan starks wiki page, thats why they have a hell of a lot of kids. find it here.

Cregan Stark had been many things, the lord of Winterfell, warden of the north, hand of the king. But most importantly he had been your husband. Married for 66 years before your death in 200 AC,

Your marriage with filled with tragedy and triumphs, but most importantly love.

A love that inspired songs, poems and stories.

Though you and he had your ups and downs, he stayed by your side during your worst and your best times.

And even after years of struggling, years of sadness and tears as your moons blood came, you and he ended with ten children to call your own.

First there had been Rickon, followed by Saera, Alys and Rhaeya, then Mariah, Jacearys, Edric, Lyanna, Lucerys and finally Brandon.

The birth of each of your children had filled your halls and your heart, the ache you had felt after the war had finally been filled, and you had felt whole once more.

You had found the happiness you had been chasing and felt contentment and happiness more and more each and every day.

Your love for each other continued to bloom and grow, love so deep that Cregan himself passed only moons after you, your son Jaceaerys, know as Jace ‘one eye’, becoming the lord of Winterfell after his death, though it was your youngest son Brandon that the stark line continued from.

Your legacy was one that would be remembered even a hundred years after your death, songs were still sung in your honour, halls and castle erected in your name, there was even a castle built in your honour on the wall, after your help in the victory against Sylas the grim.

But where your legacy blossomed still was within the walls of Winterfell, where your kin ruled to this day.

“we have Targaryen ancestry, or one ancestor to be precise” Ned Stark spoke to his children, as he walked them down the crypts of Winterfell.

He speak your name, bowing in respect as he approached your statue, your stood beside your husband Cregan Stark, your hands adjoined in a symbol of your love, a love that had become famous amongst the pages of history.

“she was the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Veleryon, the last rider of Silverwing and the last dragon rider in history. “

Sansa seemed giddy as she looked at her, her ancestor a Targaryen princess.

“did she fight in the dance of the dragons?” Jon asked, looking at his ancestors, noting the similarity in your features with his.

“aye, though she played the role of a diplomat more than a fighter, but she is too thank for several victories, even after the war she helped defend the north against wildings”

His children gasped in surprise, eagerly listening to their father recount the tales of you and your legacy.

“did any of her children have dragons?” Jon asked eagerly.

“aye, each child was given an egg, though only two hatched” he looked to the left towards were your children statues stood, “the ones belonging to Lord Jacearys and Lucerys, named after her brothers” he looked down to Jon, the most egar to here of his ancestors, “though it was said they died and grew no larger than cats“

A sound of disappointment left Jon at the news.

“is it true they were so in love that he died of a broken heart after her death?” Sansa asked.

Ned chuckled, “it was said he did, aye”

Sansa let out a small squealed, “imagine being so in love you can’t bare to live in a world without them” she gushed.

“aye, there love is famous” he said looking up at his ancestors.

“can any of you tell me about their children?

Robb raised his hand enthusiastically, “they had ten in total, though it was their second son Jaceaerys, named after her brother who died in the dance who succeeded Cregan…he then died with no children and was succeeded by Lucerys also named after one of her brothers whose death started the dance of dragons”

“very good Robb…but who succeeded Lucerys?”

“there youngest child, Brandon, who we are descended from” Arya spoke up, as she gazed at the sword at your hip. “was she trained with a sword?” she asked eagerly.

“most likely, she was a fighter, a warrior though most accounts was due to her fighting on the back of silver wing, it was said she killed several men who insulted her brother, King Aegon III and was known to have fought several who questioned her mother, Rhaenyra being a legitimate queen.”

Arya seemed very please with this response, as did Robb and Jon as they admired their 4x great grandmother.

At the feet of their statues laid 3 dragon eggs, long turned to stone, and though neither of them noticed at first, as Ned light the lights surrounding their statues, behind them sat the skull of Silverwing.     

A reminder of house Targaryen, and their power even now years after they had been defeated and banished.

And though you had become a stark you were forever remembered in house Targaryen, with your named reused countless times, a holdfast in the red keep named after you, and gardens throughout Westeros grew a rose named after you.

But whilst you had grown a legacy and left an indent on the history of Westeros, you had not lived to do so.

Your life had been one you had ended up devoting to your family, to love and happiness, no care if your section of the history books was a long one or not.

The first five years of your marriage where the one filled with the most hurdles to cross, with fertility issues and you suffering from depression, it truly tested your marriage but the day your eldest Rickon was born, was the day your life truly became filled with Joy.

Your pregnancy had been spent bed bound to nervous to venture out of it for fear of another miscarriage.

Cregan had moved his office to your shared chambers, insisting on spending every moment you would allow with him. His days spent with you, his meals shared with you in bed, he only left when necessary and even then, he was racing back to be with you.

The birth had scared him, his mind remembering the last birth, how you had laboured for hours knowing full well the babe was already dead.

But this time the babe was perfect, a healthy boy you named Rickon after his father.

You watched him grow and as the years passed more children followed, each and every one of them filling your life with more and more love.

You and Cregan grew inseparable, your duties becoming one as you both ruled Winterfell together.

And after fifteen years of marriage, and the birth of you first five children, Rickon, Saera and Alys, Rhaeya and Mariah, your brothers came to Winterfell on their tour of Westeros.

Aegon and Viserys both married with children of their own were more than happy to see you again, years of letters making up for little of how much you missed your brothers.

“Aegon, Viserys” you greeted as you they rode into Winterfell with the pride and fancy house Targaryen always brought.

“sister” they greeted, coming straight towards you, their boyish looks still in full effect despite being adults in their own right, “I have missed you”

“no more than I have missed you” you replied before introducing your family and household to your brothers.

Your sons and daughters presenting themselves proudly, with your daughter Saera pointing out the similarities between herself and her cousin Daena, they could practically be twins. In both looks and nature.

They caused many a problem during their time in Winterfell, with many pranks and havocked caused as they spent their days freeing horses or practicing with Sareas crossbow, shooting apples above servants heads.

Your eldest Rickon spent most of his time with Daeron, many time spent in the courtyard, sparring or exploring the dragon nest Silverwing had left upon her most recent return from Winterfell.

You watched as your children created bonds with their cousins, bonds that would stick even after the tour. Letters exchanged and your sons Jacearys and Lucerys being sent to ward in Kings Landing.

And whilst they were here your sons Jacearys and Lucerys eggs hatched, small dragons, the first dragons born in near ten years.

Jace’s dragon, a soft shade of white shade, easily blending into the snow. He had named the dragon sōna, the Valyrian word for snow. And though the history books would mark him to be as big as a small housecat, he in truth grew to be the size of a dire wolf, and though not big enough to take a rider on his back, he was known to fly the walls of Winterfell before his death, after falling victim to a stray arrow during one of house starks monthly hunts.

Lukes’s dragon had been named icefyre, he had claimed it was who he was, a merge of ice a fire and so was his dragon. With silver scales and a blue flame, similar to the blue flame of your uncle Daeron’s dragon Tesserion. He too grew to the size of a dire wolf, before accompany Luke south to Kingslanding, ending up on Dragonstone where she was killed by the now wild dragon, Sunfyre.

And though when the tour ended, after being extended moons, with neither side wanting to part from the other, the sadness and regret you felt before when leaving your brothers was no longer, as you where more than happy with the family you had in Winterfell. No longer did you dream of the ghosts of your family, wishing them alive, but now you saw them reborn as each of your children.

In Rickon you saw Jace, he was noble and kind, the perfect future lord. And you saw even more of Jace in him as he died fighting alongside his cousin Daeron, after he had been named king and set to conquer Dorne. Dying before his time, a hero’s death.

In Saera, you saw your mother, Rhaenyra. A fierce and defiant girl, egar and pride. She was smart and quick and though as time passed and you began to forget the faces of those you lost, however you looked at Sarea, you saw your mother.

In Alys you saw Joffrey, shy and kind but egar to prove herself. Going out of her way to prove her loyalty and her devotion to house Stark.

In Rhaeya, you saw your grandmother, Rhaneys. Though she was named in honour of bother her mother and grandmother, her grandmothers laugh, and smile shined through in your girl. She was always riding, though a horse not a dragon, she was a warrior in her own right, fighting in the conquest of Dorne, though she eventually chooses to sheath her sword after she found love in the son of Benjicot Blackwood.

Then there was Mariah, sweet Mariah reminded you of Rhaena, though alive and well with six daughters of her own, she reminded you in every way of your sister. With a fierce heart, hidden behind a sweet temperament.

Jace, who had become Jace one eye at the age of six and ten after an arrow pierced his eye during the conquest of Dorne, he reminded you of you uncle Aemond, before the cruelty took over him. He was determined and fierce, though hidden behind a shy demeaner.

Edric, was the very image of Daemon. Though Stark in looks he was the rouge of her stepfather, careless and wanton, so much so he died before all of his siblings after fighting and loosing a duel against the man who would later marry his sister Lyanna, Lynol Tyrell.

Lyanna, Was you. You looked at her and saw yourself, a girl born out of love, a girl desiring love more than anything in the world. A girl who would fight for what she believed in, no matter the cost.

Lucerys, of cause reminded you of Luke in every way he was your sweet younger brother. In looks and nature he was Luke reborn.

The Brandon, your youngest child, a big age gap, born near ten years after Luke. He seemed to be the image of your husband, fierce and wise, a good lord. Though often driven my lust.

Your legacy was fierce, your blood spread through Westeros as you were remembered in the page of history books for all to read.

“the dance of the dragons” Daenerys read, as she was gifted a book of the history of her family.

“not just the dance, Princess” spoke Ilyrio Mopatis. “this book tells the story of your Ancestor” he spoke your name, and printed out the portrait of you that covered the first page inside.

“A whole book dedicated to one ancestor?” Viserys scoffed, “what was she a conqueror?”

“in some ways” Ilyrio started, “she was a key player in the dance, without her diplomacy the war could have been much longer than it had been”

“Really?” Viserys asked sceptically.

“indeed, read for yourself My prince”

And so they read your tale, and you where once more brough back to life.

taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog @apollonshootafar @zillahvathek @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @valyriantargaryenblood-blog @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunblogsblog @clobobo @raynetargaryen2 @justbelljust @sukunassfinger

@arminsstuff @now-i-have-a-new-obsession @eddieslut69 @materialgirl01 @bugmanor @annabellekenobi2005 @whos-too-b @mandowhatnow @aegonswife @littlebirdgot @delaynew @now-i-have-a-new-obsession @dorkysupernova @hawkins_2000 @materialgirl01 @beebeechaos @rosedurin @rebeccawinters @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @Aaliyah @spacexdrago @12thatsanumber @arieltwvdtohamflash @klutzylaena @sithapprentice @callsignwindow @alexxavicry

to be added to taglist for my other works

[colorfullyminded]

TLDR

Okay I cannot believe I'm about to go off like this, but this has been bothering me for awhile, and it's only making me more spiteful. I have been enjoying the influx of Billford art lately. Amazing, great wonderful. What I have Not been enjoying, is the absolute vitriol the Billdip fans have been getting since the influx of TBOB. I was a billdip shipper for awhile. Hell I was a billdip shipper when I was a Parapines shipper-- I liked shipping Dipper with boys. I was also like 14 or 15 at the time. Obviously, if you follow me now, you'll probably notice what my main ship for Dipper is. I grew out of Billdip, and moved on to Pinescone. I have been shipping Pinescone for 10 years. However, not once did I go around saying "Lol, glad I matured and became a better person and shipped something healthier", nor did I post in the billdip tag, condeming people for a fictional ship! And saying mine was better because it was less problematic.

"I'm really glad people stopped shipping Bill and Dipper together. Bill is a 1000 year old triangle demon, and Dipper is 13--" Stop. Repeat what you just said.

"Bill is 1000 year old triangle--"

Repeat that last word to me. "....triangle?" TRIANGLE! I'm sorry what?! This ship is already completely wild enough. You're getting mad at this fictional age gap-- AND BILL IS A FUCKING SHAPE! A FUCKING SHAPE! This ship was weird from the moment GO! And Billford isn't any better. IT'S STILL A SHIP WITH A FUCKING SHAPE! And you're going to sit on your high horse and look down on the Billdip community. On top of it-- they have an age gap too! Bill is still thousands of years old or whatever-- however long it's been, who knows? And Ford was in his 20s or so when he met Bill. That's still a huge, ridiculous age gap-- that Bill could easily use and manipulate; which he did....and then also caught feelings and became a sad ex, but that's beside the point~ Both of these ships are still insane. And again, the bigger thing I think people are just ignoring about these ships--is that Bill is a TRIANGLE! THREE LINES CONNECTED TOGETHER! And this is the hill you're going to die on? ...Cause apparently it's mine. First of all-- as many people pointed out-- Ford Pines did not exist until the second half of the final season. People couldn't ship Fordbill because there wasn't any Ford to introduce.

"Well, even before Ford, I never shipped Billdip! I always disliked it." ...Okay, that's totally fine. Not everyone needs to like or agree on the same ship. Lord knows there's probably people who don't really care for Pinescone either. There's a lot of popular ships that I can't stand. But I'm don't go into a ship tag I don't like, screaming to a void for self validation. I don't go around mocking other people for ships that they had in 2014-- or even still today! It doesn't matter! I did that when I was a kid-- and then realized that was rude, and it was better to just ignore the ships I didn't like and enjoy the ones that made me happy. And grow a community of kind, like minded friends. And listen, I am all for safe spaces and being able to block things that make you uncomfortable. I am not saying people who find the BillDip ship uncomfortable to be idiots or babies or overly sensitive-- or anything like that. I think if something makes you uncomfortable, that is okay and I think it's perfectly fine to blacklist a tag that you don't want to see. I also think it's imperative that people tag things as accurately as they can so people looking at your work can know if one of your pieces has a thing that they don't like-- and therefore can avoid. What I don't appreciate is the fanhate for this ship that is sprouting up like weeds. You can not like something, you can be disgusted by it (I have my Gravity Falls ships I can not stand, nor do I feel comfortable with), but attacking real people for a FICTIONAL SHIP-- two characters who are drawings on a piece of paper and can not be affected mentally, physically or emotionally by fanwork; who still retain the same shape after everything we put them through-- to the point that you send death threats, or threaten to Doxx, or just harass relentlessly, I have always found that more childish and disgusting. You are causing real world pain to people. Me fucking up Dipper Pines is not going to do anything to him-- because he doesn't actually exist. He's a cartoon character. I could squash him and stretch him in Wonka's taffy machine--- I could throw him mock speed at a wall and watch him explode on impact-- but he still exists. He's not dead; I can pick him up and dust him off, and If I wanted-- I could decide that eh, 'Not a scratch on him'. And I'd be right. Because he is a cartoon character, and I am just a fangirl. I can not change anything about him-- I have no ability to make anything I headcanon canon. And even if I was the original artist-- it doesn't change the fact that Dipper would still be nothing more than a creation. A construct of shapes; he can not be hurt or traumatized in a way that leads to real life consequences-- because he is not real. I am not a cartoon character. My friends are not cartoon characters. Artist and Writers who stay in their lane...are not cartoon characters. If you hurt us...it will linger. It will leave a scar. If you can not tell the difference between Fiction and Reality, then I think maybe media might be too much to handle-- and I think you need to really reevaluate yourself.

And just to vent some other things that i keep seeing that are frustrating: You can't claim the twins are only 13-- and then on August 31st go "Happy 20-something Birthday Mabel and Dipper!" And then proceed to drop a picture of them as adults. Well which is it? Do they age or not? Because Gravity Falls showed them canonically aging. If you think the twins age-- then you can't suddenly turn around and go, 'no you can't ship them-- Dipper is a child!' but you drew him as an adult. So sorry, it looks like you can't draw the twins grown up anymore. You claimed they're 13, so better draw them 13 forever--. Aged up stories and works exist for a reason, especially for a fan who grew up on the series. The characters might have grown up alongside them. It's not unlikely for a person to ship Billdip when Dipper is much older.

And on that note, for people who are like 'well older billdip is fine-- it's just people shipping him during the show that deserve to die.' Okay... and like I said, this rant is coming from a recent influx of Billford shippers spitting on Billdip shippers. You know? The TOXIC Old Man Yaoi!

You're still shipping something that is problematic. You are still shipping something twisted and wrong. And I am not judging you. I am here for this divorced arc. I am thriving. But you can't just pick and choose what is and isn't okay. And let me first off explain; if there is something that personally triggers you about a toxic ship, and you want to avoid that-- again, perfectly understandable. Perfectly reasonable. You are the makers of your content space. And I am not judging anyone for that. I want people to be safe. I want people to have a good time in fandom spaces. I want people to not have to deal with the things that upset them or frighten them, or disgust them. But you can not say one is fine, and one is not. They're both bad! They're both toxic. In real life, these ships would both be charged with serious crimes! And yes, there are some crimes that are worse than others, and if you asked me what I thought was more problematic-- I'd say Billdip-- but both of these ships are extreme, and severe in their problematic content. You are still consuming problematic content. If it's a personal thing, that's fine; avoid it. But don't sit there throwing stones from your glass house.

[athenaluthor]

Living Daylights ~ Darth Vader.

summary: Husband!Vader comes home angry and he needs to let out some anger.

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, SMUT, Unburnt!Vader, Dubcon, Creampie, Rough, PiV, Domestic Vader, mentions of kids.

Word count - 1.6k

masterlist

Comfortably sat on the living room sofa, she waited for her husband. Though he would never admit it, he enjoyed having someone greet him after a long day. A familiar face to wash away the troubles of the day right when he walks through the door.

Truth be told, she needed it too. Working from home while taking care of two incredibly restless boys was exhausting, especially when both were terribly ill from a flu being passed around at school. Between runny noses, high fevers and tears; she clearly needed a break from being pulled in a million different directions.

The attendants scurry to open the door for him, quickly scrambling away right after, none wanting to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

The sound of Vader's ship landing snaps her out her trance rather abruptly. Looking out, she sees him storming out of it the moment the ship is secured on the landing pad. He was infuriated, his footsteps echoing loudly, a clear show of his anger.

Testing the waters, she gently calls out to him “Vader..?”.

She receives no reply. His body is unusually rigid, making the hairs on her body rise. Days like this would usually end with her laying on her back, legs spread and him mercilessly pounding away at her. Not that she minds, but tonight she prays that it wouldn't be the case, she barely had any energy left. Vader undeniably enjoyed fucking the living daylights out of his wife.

Usually, he would give her a chaste kiss on the lips or cheek before grabbing her hand to retire to their bedroom. He wouldn't ask for much, just some help with his suit and sometimes a bath. On some occasions, he'd ask her to help with his strained muscles or injuries.

Today, he was nothing of that sort. Vader grabs her arm and pulls her roughly towards their shared quarters. A chill runs down her spine. The last time this occurred, she could barely walk after. Vader had taken her so many times and so hard that night that she blacked out several times. Thank the Maker that their bedroom had been soundproofed. She prayed that their children would never see what Vader would do to her. Vader's was insatiable especially when he was angry.

“Vader? What's wrong?” she asks again only to receive a low grunt from him.

Admittedly, the past few months had been hectic, Vader had been engulfed and utterly preoccupied with work, while she tried to wrangle two young boys at home. They've barely seen one another without being interrupted by work or their children. She didn't need to see his face to know he was angry and frustrated.

The moment they make it through the door, Vader tosses her onto the bed. He was mostly careful with her in bed, save for the occasions where he was angry. The rough act earned a rather terrified whimper from her, surprised by his abruptness.

Then, he unclasps his helmet, dropping it to the floor with a loud clang. Wasting no time, he pounces on top of her, roughly kissing her with vigor. His hands were roaming her body as if he was mapping her out. Taken aback, she places her hands on his chest, trying to make him slow down and to let her breathe.

Within no time, Vader managed to tear off her clothes off her body. Judging by his acts, he was in no mood to play and jest. His eyes were filled with rage and lust, he looked every bit the Sith Lord people feared.

Vader begins to strip himself of his suit, each piece thrown aside without a thought. He would pick them up later once he was done fucking his wife, his beautiful wife.

Then, Vader buries his face in her neck, beginning his assault of kisses and leaving a trail of red spots in his wake. He adored marking her skin, letting the galaxy know she was his.

Vader's hand moves down to her clit, pinching it. She lets out a small noise, surprised at the action. Vader toys with her clit and runs his tongue across her nipples.

“Vader! Gods, slow down!” she begs him.

Without warning, he inserts two of his large fingers in her. Earning a moan of both pleasure and pain escapes me at the sudden intrusion. She wasn't wet enough for it yet, and he knew it. Vader thrusts his fingers in and out of her without care, sending a sharp pain through her. He knew she liked it when he was rough, how wet she would get when he had his way with her.

Vader's mouth is now on her clit, his tongue flicking the bundle of nerves while his fingers violate her. Vader knew how to make me pliable, bending to his every command. He knew how to turn her to a pile of moans, to have her pussy leaking for him.

He begins to toy between flicking his tongue on her clit and sucking it, making her so,so wet. Her hands reach down to his head, grabbing the head of soft blonde curls as he made her head spin.

Vader then curls his fingers towards my sweet spot, earning a rather loud moan from her. His cock was so hard by now, he needed to fuck her soon.

She could feel the pressure build in her lower belly, taut and dizzying. Vader knew how to read her cues. How her walls would clench when her orgasm was building or how cunt would be dripping wet, soaking his fingers and the sheets. His pace was relentless, pistoning his fingers in and out of her so quickly.

Trying to hold herself together, she grasped at anything she could. Feeling the pressure grow tauter and tauter until it eventually snaps, sending her body into blind pleasure. Moaning and tossing around as her body came.

Vader drank up her moans, reveling in how her back would arch and how she clenched down on his fingers as she came. He did not stop, continuing to finger her through it, his mouth also continued its assault on her. He loved overstimulating his wife.

“Va-vader! It's too much! Give me a break, please!” she begs, back arching from pleasure.

“You can take it. Even if you can't, I'll make sure you do.”

The second orgasm builds up so quickly, the pleasure made her body shake. Her clit was overstimulated and her hole was sore from his fingers. She tries to close my legs together but Vader quickly pins them down.

“Try that again and you'll regret it, wife.”

Her second orgasm hits and her mind is empty. Only thoughts of her husband having his way with her remained. The pleasure was too much all at once, earning incoherent moans and screams from her. She can't seem to catch her breath,her body wildly thrashes on the bed. As Vader slips his fingers out of her, her body is limp, tired from the overstimulation.

Vader positions his hard cock between her legs and she had no energy to resist. Vader's lust was insatiable at times. Regardless of what she wanted, he would fuck her when he wanted to fuck me.

Vader slides his cock inside her, her cunt was dripping, making it easier for him to fuck her. Her walls were so warm and tight, Vader had to resist the urge to come immediately like a teenage boy.

Despite being wet enough, the stretch still stung. Vader's cock was long and girthy and a few months without sex made it even harder to take.

It didn't help that Vader was not gentle, he thrusted his whole length in without hesitation, bottoming out in her. She let out a pained groaned while he moans loudly.

He wasted no time. Vader began thrusting in and out of her roughly, his pace unwavering. He needed to fuck her, he needed to bury himself so deep inside his wife. The head of his cock hit her cervix repeatedly, making her scream. She hoped he wouldn't fuck her all night, she didn't think she could take it.

Vader was sure she would be so sore in the morning. He hadn't fucked her in so long, her pussy was so tight.

���God, you're so deep. Just, slow down.” she pants.

“I can't. I kriffing can't! You feel too good wrapped around me.” he says, sounding breathless.

Vader buries his face in her neck as he continues to pound into his wife. Grunting into her neck with each thrust, shaking the bed as he does so. The sharp pain his rough pounding caused made her head spin, reducing her to moans and whimpers of pain and pleasure.

Vader pins her hands above her head, while he kisses her lips roughly. Vader loved to kiss her while she moaned, her moans drive him crazy. So crazy that he'd fuck her for hours just to hear them.

As he fucked her hard, her third orgasm approaches. This time, the pleasure builds so quickly she could barely think. Her body hadn't felt this much pleasure in months.

One of Vader's hands reaches down to rub her clit, he knew by the way she tightened around his cock. He knew she was close. So, Vader's fingers reach down and plays with her clit. Vader's fingers on her clit pushed over the edge.

She screams into their kiss as she came around his cock. Vader grunts in reply as her walls clamped down on his cock. Vader loved the way her legs shook, overwhelmed by pleasure. He loved how fucked out she looked under him.

Vader pulls away from their kiss and says“You’re so tight when you come on my cock. I can barely move, fuck! You love it when I fuck the living daylights out of you, huh?”.

Vader's pace does not falter even after she came. By this point, she could barely process what was happening. His thrusts, his grunts and his kisses all pushed me to edge of her limits. Her body was riddled with pleasure and exhaustion as he fucked her.

Vader pinches her nipples and slaps her breasts and he fucks her. His roughness made her breathless. His grunts only spurred her on. Fueling the pleasure in her veins and she could feel his thrusts becoming more and more frantic, he was close. He would come soon and he would fill her with his come, stuff her so full of him.

She loved being filled by him, having his seed in her. She loved it when he treated her like this.

Suddenly, Vader grips her hips and lifts them slightly. He increased his speed, pounding her like his life depended on it. Anyone watching would think Vader had gone insane.

His pace was relentless and his grunts echoed through their bedroom. Vader wraps one of his hands around her throat, putting slight pressure on it.

She moaned his name repeatedly, trying to hold on to the edges of her consciousness as her Vader fucks her. The lack of air making it harder for her to stay conscious.

Vader comes with a loud groans and grunts, rutting wildly into her. Vader shoots his seed deep inside her womb, painting her insides.

The feel of his seed her was euphoric. It pushed another orgasm through her body. Her body shook as he continued to thrust into her softly through both of their climax. Vader lets go of her throat right as she was about to faint.

Her vision darkens for a few moments, her body unable to handle the pleasure and exhaustion. Laying there limp and satiated with her husband buried deep inside her, where he belongs.

Vader softly strokes her cheek, trying to rouse her back to reality. She opens her eyes to the sight of him looking at her with worried eyes.

“You still there?” He softly asks.

Too weak to answer, she merely nods. Her skin was sticky, her heart was beating wildly and she was barely able to catch her breath.

Vader slides himself out of her slowly, his seed dripping out of her and soaking the sheets. Vader's cock hardens slightly at the sight. His seed coming out her hole was enough to make him want to fuck her again.

Worried about over exhausting her, he refrains. He slowly lifts her up and sets her on the bed properly. Laying her limp body down, head on the pillow and comfortable.

Somewhere in her daze, he cleaned her up with a damp towel and tucked her in. The room was warm and cozy which made her smile. He adjusted the temperature so they both would be comfortable.

When she woke, he had just came out of the shower and dressed only in long pants. Sliding into bed, his skin was cool against hers. He pulled her into his arms, allowing her head to be resting on his chest.

“I heard the boys were sick today. You stayed home with them?” He asks.

“They were. Some flu has been going around at school. Their fevers have broke so they should be better in a few days.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Not much. Gave them medicine and advised they rest. Told me to monitor their temperatures and coughs, and call him if they get worse."

“I'm sorry.”

“Hmm? About what?”

“I came home and fucked the living daylights out of you without even greeting you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Was it too much?”

“A little. What was it about, hm? You don't usually come home that angry.” I ask, tracing patterns on his chest.

“Nothing you should concern your pretty little head about. You should sleep. I can tell you're tired.” He replies while rubbing my arms softly.

He's avoiding telling her about it. She's learned not to prod when he's not ready to talk, he's Vader. He won't talk until he wants to.

Once she's asleep on his chest, Vader's mind wanders off. He would not include her in his plans, it was too dangerous. But soon, very soon, they would be free.

Free from the Emperor.

He slips out of bed and heads to his children's bedroom. Vader couldn't sleep anyways, he might as well check on his children. Seeing them would help him ground himself and calm down.

He slips inside their rooms quietly, not wanting to wake them up. He checks on each of the boys' temperature, making sure their fevers weren't too high. He stood there for a while watching them peacefully sleep. They were pure and untainted by the world around them, unlike him.

He would make sure Palpatine would never touch any of them again. Not his wife, not his children.

His youngest stirred awake, the bluest sleepy eyes staring back at him. He could tell the little boy was on the verge of tears, probably uncomfortable from being sick.

He gently picks up the boy and soothes him. His wife and eldest were sound asleep, he didn't want them to wake up as well. Vader's youngest son melts in his arms, and so does he. His son buries his tiny face into Vader's neck.

The little boy still had a slight fever and was probably still uncomfortable. Vader could feel the little boy's tears on his neck. Vader couldn't resist loving his two boys. He would much rather die before letting Palpatine dig his claws into them as well.

So, he'll fight. Palpatine will be gone and defeated. He swears it.

[serafilms]

song 24! message in a bottle (taylor swift) + aang requested by @fylithia (spotify wrapped event)

but now you’re so far away and i’m down, feeling like a face in the crowd, i’m reaching for you, terrified

It’s been years now since the war ended. Years since you and your friends saved the world, defeated Zuko’s father and brought peace to the four nations once more. Ever since, everyone’s been busy trying to piece the world back together. Katara’s been staging a feminist revolution in the water tribes, Toph has been reinventing Earth bending, Suki taking the Kyoshi Warriors all over and recruiting, Sokka inventing, Zuko rebuilding a nation and Aang flitting all over the place.

You, on the other hand… What have you achieved? You went back to your village and spent some time telling stories of your adventures to children, then picking up odd jobs on fishing boats and cargo ships to hitch a ride to wherever your friends are off making history. You tell yourself you like the simplicity, like not having to worry about the fate of the world, but you feel like about as insignificant as a speck of dust at your biannual (twice a year) catch ups.

I’m like an old lady telling stories to relive her glory days, you think bitterly.

But you like reliving them. You miss adventuring and seeing the world with your friends. You miss when you were all just kids and there were no real titles or duties in the way (aside from your common goal of ending the war, of course). You miss when Aang looked at you like you’d hung all the stars in the sky, when he was just a boy who liked you but never said it, and when you liked him but refused to show it. Now you feel like you’re miles apart, like he’s on the top of the mountain and you’re left waiting at the base.

You still all write each other, Aang more than the rest but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s out of pity; it’s an obligation to you as an old friend. They’re busy now and that’s not their fault, and you all really would have no reason to go back to camping out. In fact, with the Avatar and Fire Lord especially, it was probably a security risk.

You’re too busy drowning in your own misery to notice Katara until she’s already nudging you in the arm. “Hey, why aren’t you over there with everyone else?”

Starting a little in surprise, you stare at her for a second before sighing as you kick your foot into the dirt and watch the dust rise.

“No reason,” you lie. Because I don’t want to talk to you guys. Especially Aang.

Your time alone has dulled your social skills, because Katara stares at you for a good seven seconds before you realise she expects you to keep talking.

“I think it’s just a little overwhelming to be around many people when I’m usually by myself.”

Her face softens and she reaches out to put her hand on your knee. “But it’s us. We want to make you comfortable and be around you. You know that, right?”

You nod, and she squeezes then releases you. “Let’s start small. Aang!”

Your chest flickers with panic as his bright eyes locate you instantly and he leaves his conversation with Zuko without a second thought. Katara takes his place, striding back up to the group as Aang stops right in front of you.

You feel your heart lurch at finally seeing him up close after spirits knows how many months. He's taller than you now, so it's not hard to avoid his gaze, but you can't tear your eyes away yet. His eyes sparkle at you and you feel yourself flush at how cute he looks with faint freckles dusting the upper part of his cheeks.

"Hey," he greets you softly, taking a seat beside you. "How are you?"

"I'm good," you find yourself saying, despite your mind being devoid of any thought that's not of him. His smile that's as sweet as ever, his eyes, his pink lips. How he's so, so out of your league.

Much like Katara, Aang seems unsatisfied with your short reply. "What have you been up to?"

Thinking about how much I love you. You can't say that, of course, so you babble on about the courier job you did a few months ago, which was great because you helped find a few new Kyoshi Warriors for Suki. When you look back at him once more, Aang has a soft look on his face, and a smile that seems to be there without his knowledge. Your face flushes, stomach flips and something akin to hope rises within you.

His cheeks turn pink when you've trailed off and he realises you're looking at him.

"Wow," he says. "That sounds really great."

You roll your eyes a little, feeling a sense of familiarity. "It's fine, you don't have to pretend you're interested. I know it's all boring compared to the work of the great Avatar."

"No, really," he insists, and there's an urgency in his voice, as if he needs you to know how genuine he is. "I think everything you do is amazing."

You smile. "Really?"

Aang nods down at you, eyes wide. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's you."

Embarrassed but pleased, you look down at your shoes before looking back up at him. "Thanks, Aang."

He grins at you, before glancing over to the others. "Wanna go catch up with everyone else?"

You take a look over at your friends. They look normal now, like a group of friends laughing, instead of the incredible figures they are. You nod at him and he extends a hand out to help you up. You take it.

You can't tell him how much he means to you, but you feel closer now. All you can do now is hope that one day, he gets the message.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I hand out a couple of high scores & have qualms about pairs

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top. I didn't get many screen shots this week, so welcome to a WALL OF TEXT. Duh duh duh dum.

July 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 16 fin - TanFang are ridiculous but I have grown to truly love them. ChainPun at the end made me hoot with laughter everyone was a meme of FINALLY. In fact, I loved all the pairs, this was a great ensemble piece.

I was left mildly wondering if Arm will ever lead a BL. 

All in all? 

I really enjoyed this show. It was slow to find its stride (I didn’t get into it until ep 7) but I’m very glad I gave it a chance. It’s a soft ensemble piece with multiple couples and very little plot, but I didn’t care because it’s not trying to be anything more substantial. Essentially this was a series of vignettes covering one year of uni for a queer friendship group finding love, new friends, and laughter. It’s not being harsh with us or it’s characters the way some offerings of this ilk have been (side eyes Friend Zone and Only Friends) nor did it tumble into Gen Y chaos. In fact, this reminded me more than anything of a refined and elevated Love Sick - just with older characters and occurring within a genre that has matured too. It has that close queer friendship group meets earnest gentleness that made me adore Love Sick so much. In other words, this was Thai BL at its finest, finding it roots again 10 years on, but also stretching upwards and showing us what it could do with that original seed. So? I loved it. Did it blow my mind? No. But it left me smiling and made me belly laugh quite a bit. 9/10

Technically it should probably get an 8/10 - too much singing, but I’m bubbling over with nostalgia rn.

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 12 fin - I struggled to watch that fight. But that’s because it was so well done for a BL. Lots of speeches this ep. (I said too cheesy right before Dee did.)

I like Drake & Title as a new ship. Hope it sails. Also some decent ace rep. 

On a totally different note: Good use of frosting. But… you know I’m gonna say it… NO SINGING. 

Final thoughts:

What a FUN show. A charming quintessentially modern Thai BL about a doctor and a boxer who start as a one night stand and then fall in love. Great rep for everything from Muay Thai, to safe sex, to FUN sex, to ace, to bisexuality, to smiley kisses, to the first legal gay wedding in a Thai BL. It’s a delight and I enjoyed (almost) every single moment of it. 

An easy 9/10. 

I do hope we get more GreatInn.

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - So Ryu’s ma is evil? And Frank is giving me serious second lead syndrome. Also he’s been working out a lot. I noticed my dude, thank you. I don't think we've ever gotten this kind of focus on a side dish before. The show is in dangerous territory, since he's so good he's taking attention away from the leads. Also, I think Zen is completely aware of what is going on with this love triangle, he just doesn’t want to put up with their nonsense. I even like the cute side crumbs. 

On a complete aside: why are crime lords in BL always in bathtubs? Asking for… the other genres. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if The Godfather entirely took place in bathtubs? A Real Man has a large… tub. 

And we end with mass murder? WOW! Chaotically played my dearest pulp! 

Century of Love (Weds Gaga) eps 3-4 of 10 - These boys are playing complicated roles with lots of layers to them. Daou is doing a great job. We can see the old man inside this kid. Offroad... I’m not convinced, he’s chewing the scenery a bit. I actually think he has the more layered and complicated part to play. So I'm giving him a chance to subtly show that cheerful fa��ade fracturing with delicacy. But I worry we may be back in JamFilm territory where one partner can’t quite keep up with the other's skillz.

All of this is to say, this is still a better acted piece than I was expecting. (Although the surrounding cast and special effects are doing our leads no particular favors.)

It’s hugely enjoyable but uneven (with those occasional injections of slapstick humor) I’m not entirely sure the production knows what it wants to be. I wish it had the courage of its convictions to lean into the “I feel you linger in the air” aesthetic. Now that I know Thailand can go there, I’m a bit annoyed when a show like this, which should, doesn’t. Which is not to say I’m not enjoying it. I am. A lot. Just that I should probably lower my expectations. Daou, however, is so damn good, he keeps getting my hopes up.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 3 of 8 - Oh no we have a lonely poor little rich boy. Catnip character for @heretherebedork. Meanwhile, I’m liking the layers of the main romance, with everybody having hidden agendas and such. Nice tension. Of course I love the eroticism around smells. One of my favorite tropes. But I’m not sure I buy the relationship chemistry between the leads when this much lying is going on. 

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - I am growing to love Fourth's version of this character. He’s so frantic and confused, but in a completely different way from the JBL. It’s a bit more whiny and a bit less cartoonish. But it resonates with me more. He's less of a meme tho. The photo moment! I literally squealed, "Gah!!! They are so cute!"

Linguistic moment. Did you hear in the cupcake section that Half went to rao/ter? Very sweet. (The boys use rao/nai.)

Also, yay for the twist on the school counselor character! Best thing ever. I would like the entire story of Nop & Sin GMMTV, please and thank you. Also… NO SINGING. 

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 6 of 12 - I’m continuing to enjoy this a lot. It’s a fun cast. A touch twee for me, and I’m really hoping they amp up something other than the romance soon, but I don't mind ending my week with these two.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - I'm enjoying this show so much, just not as a BL (yet). It’s honest to the internship experience of overwhelm (such as I recall, it's been A WHILE). I’m not sure how much BL I’m getting from it thus far. I mean our leads shared a long glance or two but that’s about it. It’s very slow burn. But I don’t mind that since I’m liking the surrounding stuff. Can't stand the girlfriend intern character tho. I hope she get redeemed.  Or killed.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 6 of 10 - Halfway through I had already finished my drink out of sheer boredom.  Trash watch here.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - Frankly I’m finding this relatively dull right now. Lovely kisses tho. Best and Seng are great together, consummate BL pros, not a pair I had on my bingo card. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - I like how much we can see K’s intense liking and emotional need for this loud broken kid. And how easy it is for him to admit to that truth. Because what he’s going through is so much worse than admitting to having feelings. The acting is fantastic. Sometimes I forget how great Japan can be. And then they decide to remind me. Oh, it’s SO GOOD. 

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - Another one I’m finding boring. Just japan’s version. The vintage yaoi “old dude creep trope” I see. It’s been a while. 

It's airing but...

Meet You at the Blossom - it's your funeral (or, more likely, one of the main characters'). You can argue but... statistics. You know my feelings on this matter. MY BLOG, remember?

GIF by mypotatokun

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution. I demand you tell me the moment you find it!

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) - Got bumped to Aug 2. Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

July Releases Still To Come

7/24 I Saw You in My Dream (Thai Weds Gaga) - Dee Hup is behind this one so I have high hopes. Younger boy chronically teased his whole life by the older boy next door suddenly starts having horrific prophetic dreams about his bully and must save him.

7/26 4 Minutes (Thai Netflix or iQIYI?) - Great, a rich boy studying business at uni, suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future.

7/29 Battle of the Writers (Thai ????) - trailer here, TutorYim return, and while I adore them, I really hope this is better than Middleman's Love. Won't be hard. However: the premise? Ugh. Something something authors fighting - save me. Why don't writers understand that nothing is more boring than writers?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

No time this week, I'm having computer issues.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[izzabela]

Hi there! Can you write about the female reader being adopted into the Lin Kuei family (similar to Tomas) and was raised along the Lin Kuei trio, Kuai Liang develops romantic feelings for the reader but doesn't know and understand those feelings until years later Kuai Liang overhears one of the earthrealm's champions trying to ask the reader on a date?

Set My Heart Ablaze - Kuai Liang x fem!reader

in which Kuai Liang finally understands the slight ache in his chest every time he sees you

a/n: i love the premise, but i'm tweaking it a bit since adopted siblings are a grey area

ship[s]: kuai liang x fem!reader

warning(s): story deviation?

i seriously would not mind being in between him and bi han

=====================

Before the first signs of his fire powers manifested, Kuai Liang always noted the odd feeling in his chest whenever he saw you.

First meeting as children, probably no more than five years old, Kuai Liang always felt that little beat in his chest. You and Kuai Liang became fast friends, practically inseparable as your childhood played out.

From doing little play-spars, to eating, napping, and playing, you two were always together doing something.

Kuai Liang remembers him telling Bi Han and his father about the "weird feeling" in his chest. His father told him it was him playing too hard, while Bi Han teased him for liking a girl. Heck, even Harumi, when she was able to visit, would always ask him about his "new friend".

Of course, when Tomas was adopted, you and Kuai Liang integrated him to create the trio of mischief. At that time, he wasn't fluent in the language, but Kuai Liang mentally sighed as he realized even he looked between you and him like he liked you.

As you and Kuai Liang grew up, you two grew closer. From little kids who'd chase each other around one another's homes, you guys had become teenagers who would train with one another. More changes came along with the passage of time: his powers had come to him, your own magic came as well, learning the ways of both your clans, more responsibilities, training.

Not to mention puberty.

Though both of you still rather young, it was clear to Kuai Liang that you were going to flourish into something beautiful. Your body was experiencing changes, like how you grew taller. Your eyes began to sparkle a little more, and the air around you seemed... softer.

Over all, you just grew more pretty in Kuai Liang's eyes, and that same feeling in his chest kept clawing at him.

To keep himself focused, he came to the conclusion that this feeling was a side effect to his pyro powers. In order to master them, he needed to truly focus- and that meant isolation until he could get it right. As he honed his powers during that time, Kuai Liang noted that the thumping went away. Maybe he got it right, until you sent him a letter.

The rhythmic feeling came back, this time doubled its speed. He had to get it checked by the mages in the palace, but they concluded no magic resided in the ink or parchment. It was strange, and it kept Kuai Liang's mind muddled with thoughts and what-ifs. When he confided to his family about it, it was a mixed bag of reactions.

"Your magic is reactive, so cease any feelings not related to mastering your magic," Bi Han scolded him. Tomas was a bit kinder, though.

"Perhaps you need rest, your magic is a lot harder to control."

That was but many years ago. Now, here you were, with him and his brothers watching you spar Raiden as part of a joint training session pushed by Lord Liu Kang. In the many centuries he had been doing this, he had called upon your clan to role-play Empress Sindel's daughters in spars.

This time would be no different.

Kuai Liang watched as you held deadly metal fans in your hands. You stood against Kung Lao, who also bore a deadly weapon as part of everyday use. He watched as you circled one another, before Kung Lao practically pounced at you.

You moved like water, fluid as you dodged everything he threw at you. You were practically dancing as you parried his attacks, blocked, or threw your own arms and legs at him. He was lost in a trance at you impeccable skills, awed by your talent, and stumped by your undeniable beauty as you downed the farm boy.

Kung Lao was flat on his back on the ground. His head was pinned between the dagger-fans, and his hat was in your hands and against his neck. No, you weren't cutting him, simply cornering him until he conceded- which he finally did after a groan and a hefty sigh.

Kuai Liang's chest had been going at it all day, but the sight of you helping Kung Lao up with the same face you always gave him made his chest squeeze tighter than ever. He tried to keep the knotting feeling at bay, but it was too much for him. So much for fire magic mastery.

His hand is on Bi Han's shoulder, gripping it tightly as he doubles over and begins to heave for air. It's constricting, like someone keeping him in a chokehold in the air. It's so bad that everyone begins to look over at them, including you.

"Are you alright, brother?" He asks with a hint of worry in his gravely voice.

Kuai Liang shakes his head, "I am fine, just the magic." Bi Han is skeptical, but he accepts it.

Tomas's anxiety is more evident in his voice. "Are you ill? Do you need to head to the infirmary?"

Kuai Liang tries to answer again, but his eyes accidentally catch the concern in yours. You approach him slowly, like one does a frightened animal, but he just turns away and leans on Tomas to take him up on his offer.

"Brother, we are taking our leave," Tomas announces. You're shocked at how quickly Kuai Liang rejects you, but you bow to them in respect as you watch Tomas carry a limping Kuai Liang with a worried Bi Han trailing behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuai Liang wakes up to a mixture of hushed whispers from within and outside the infirmary. He blinks the blurriness from his eyes, and he sits up to be met with his brothers at the bedside.

"Agh," he groans, holding his head. Bi Han just tuts his tongue, getting up from his seat to get some stuff. Tomas smiles in relief, sighing as he gets closer.

"Oh thank goodness you're awake!" he says happily. "You crashed right before we entered the infirmary, and you began to overheat to the point I almost burned."

Kuai liang chuckles nervously. "Apologies, brother. Are you alright?" Tomas just nods, and Bi Han comes in with his own words.

"If it weren't for me, Tomas would have been on a bed as well." Bi Han sits back down on the bedside chair, dipping the rag in cold water and slapping it (yes, slapping it) on Kuai Liang's forehead. He sighs at the coolness, sinking back into bed once more.

He's relaxed, sitting in the comfortable silence of his brothers, but he picks up on a couple of voices outside the infirmary. There's a window right above his bed, and it's cracked just enough for him to hear the conversation outside.

It seems Tomas and Bi Han notice his behavior as well, vigilantly watching Kuai Liang's expressions as the wind carries the voices.

"Not everyone who smiles at you is in love, Johnny," a semi-deep voice scolds. "Besides, when will we possibly have free time for you to take her anywhere?"

Kuai Liang's eyebrows go up ever so slightly, but he keeps his breathing steady to make sure his chest doesn't beat him into a stupor.

"Come on, Ken doll," Johnny says, "We could just eat privately from everyone else during lunch! All I gotta do is ask."

Kuai Liang is nervous, especially since he thinks he knows where the conversation is going, but he doesn't want any emotions to take over until he gets the bigger picture.

He hears your name coming from a youthfully arrogant voice, and that's when everything becomes clear.

"She is too good for you," Kung Lao interjects. "If she is anything like a clan leader, she will reject you on the spot."

Johnny scoffs, "That's why we call it 'shooting your shot', but you wouldn't know since I'm the one who'll do it first, Razor-rang."

Kuai Liang shuts the window with a harsh thud, but it doesn't filter out the fight between Kung Lao and Johnny over you. He closes his eyes and tries to control his breathing that gets more haggard every second. One hand over his heart and another on his head, he's hyperventilating as the thudding in his chest grows more and more incessant.

"B-Brother?" Tomas stutters as he removes the blankets over him, "Kuai Liang, talk to us!"

Bi Han's palms are immediately hovering over his body, emitting a bit of frost and snow to try and cool him down. There's a burning smell that comes from Kuai Liang, and the sweat coming from his body only adding more fuel to the fire (haha punny).

It isn't until Bi Han literally freezes a part of Kuai Liang's arm that he snaps out of his fiery episode.

"Kuai Liang! What in the realms!" Bi Han scolds as he sits his brother up against some stacked pillows. The heat from Kuai Liang's body is melting his arm, but it doesn't stop his thoughts.

Ask her out? Kuai Liang thinks. Again, that stupid thumping racks his ribs at the thought of of you out on a date with one of them- especially Johnny.

His mind plays visions of you laughing at something the actor says, the sound of your laughter not his anymore. It flashes to your smile, but it isn't directed at him.

As Kuai Liang steadies his breathing, Bi Han is the first to piece everything together.

"Is it her?" Bi Han asks as your name slips from his mouth.

Bi Han is frustrated when Kuai Liang shakes his head and plays an excuse.

"As stated before, jus' my magic," his voice slurred just a bit.

Bi Han just groans again, and it is Tomas who tries to egg him on, playing off Bi Han's idea.

"I did hear that she'll be going on a date soon. Raiden did mention to me that Kung Lao would be planning to ask her out..."

Tomas hit the sweet spot with that one. Kuai Liang's chest squeezes once more, and he takes deep breaths to try and alleviate his heart burn.

Bi Han and Tomas have never had a moment like this before. Their usually level-headed brother, one with perfect battle plans and proper thinking, was lost and disheveled at the mere mention of your name.

Scratch that, not even mention. The sight of you, the smell of you, the look of you. He had been felled by love, a double-edged sword if not properly handled.

And right now, the sword was cutting him deep.

"You are... in love with her?" Bi Han asks carefully.

At this declaration, all of Kuai Liang's memories of you and him come flooding in like a tidal wave. Strong, powerful, and overwhelming, it ironically soothed the pain he had in his chest. Dulling it completely until he felt a new rhythm in it.

His heart boomed with a quick, but not suffocating, rhythm at the thought of you. His eyes were soft, his breathing stable, and he sunk into the comfort of his pillows as he stared into the ceiling.

"Oh," is all he manages to say.

Tomas wears the shock all over his face, while Bi Han stares with a singular raised brow. They turn to one another before looking back at Kuai Liang.

Was that all it took for him to finally piece together his own feelings?

As Bi Han and Tomas are busy cleaning up, they hear a knock on the door. Kuai Liang is silent as he hears your soft voice speak to his kin.

"I brought food for him," you say in a hushed voice. "Knowing him, he must be starved."

He sits up again and meets your eyes. Shining like stars, you smile brightly as you sat down next to his thighs on the edge of the bed. In between you two are rice balls and steamed buns, and in a bakers dozen. Thirteen each food, all for you two to share.

"How are you?" You ask him as you took a bite of the steamed bun. "You looked so... nervous earlier. Are you alright?"

Kuai Liang nods dumbly as his body is on autopilot. He begins to eat a rice ball robotically, and Bi Han rubs his temple in disappointment.

"U-uh, we'll be taking our leave!" Tomas announces as he bows. He takes his brother's wrist and walks out, leaving you a little sad as you wanted to share the food.

"Poo..." you huff. "More for us!"

It's quiet between you two, but it isn't awkward. The beating in Kuai Liang's chest, you both keep eating away at the food until he takes a break to inform you of some interesting news.

"Kung Lao seems to have an eye for you," he says. "The actor as well. He plans to ask you to a private dinner."

Your eyes are wide at first, then you break down into hysterical laughter. Kuai Liang smiles nervously, but you just keep going in your fit of amusement.

"Funny you are, Kuai Liang. I mean, where did you hear that?" As you wipe your eyes from the tears of joy, you're met with the confident stare of Kuai Liang's eyes. Still, you are innocent to how he actually feels, and you continue to provoke him with your thoughts.

"Perhaps I will accept just because. Perhaps someone will win a bet with my boldness." Kuai Liang huffs at you with a glare, and you're shocked to say the least.

"I only jest, my friend." You go back to eating your food, and the ambience is awkward.

Kuai Liang, without thought or warning, slams his food down and moves closer to you. Shuffling out of his seat, he sits right next to you, and he takes your hand to place it over his heart. You gasp at how warm he is, despite the many layers that are between him and his body. You're very close to him, smelling the natural scent of burned lumber on his body as he tilts your chin up.

"Kuai... what is this?" you ask quietly, almost breathlessly, as you focus in on that rhythm in his chest. His heart, racing and pulsating, moves even faster at your tender touch. Kuai Liang responds just as softly.

"Do you feel this?" he asks you. "Do you feel what you do to me?" he's motioning you to the feeling in his chest. Dumbly, you nod, unable to focus as all the fine details of the assassin are right in front of you.

His deep brown eyes stare at you deeply, and you can see the little scars and scabs from years of battle. His brows, usually in one position, are softened and relaxed. And dear oh dear, his lips are thick and full, kissable- wait, did you really think about that?

"Your heart beats," you answer the obvious. "But... why is that an issue? Is it your magic?"

He shakes his head, "I guess, one could say it is magic. However, it is all you. Your smile, your laughter, presence, everything has a magic bind over me."

If you were shocked before, you'd probably have a heart attack by now. This was a hearty confession, one he had kept for years, and you'd also be lying if you said you didn't have a crush on him as well.

"So then... it isn't your magic?" you tease him, patting his chest lightly. He chuckles and moves his hand from under your chin to your cheek.

"You set my heart ablaze, my dear." Your own heart probably exploded right about now. It doesn't stop you as you move your other free hand to his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you give him the confirmation he had been looking for.

The healing spell to his chest problems, if you will.

"Give it to me, your heart," you whisper confidently. "I'll keep the flame alive for as long as I live."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

bonus scene:

Tomas smelled something funny when he went to check on Kuai Liang after he and Bi Han left.

As a hunter, he developed a great sense of smell, and he was very useful to his family before the accident. He could smell when it was going to rain, whether threats lurked, or if there was game near by. He could also smell the scents of people.

As he, Bi Han, you, and Kuai Liang stood side by side, outside watching the champions train in a 2v2 match, the wind carried a scent he never thought he would smell in his lifetime.

By the elder gods, you two had sex when he left.

He keeps a brave face on, using his hand to over his nose and mouth to seem like he was in deep thought, but his nose couldn't lie. The pheromones of his brother's natural smell and yours were mixed in the air, and it was suffocating as the stench was stronger than any screen of smoke he had released.

"Does anyone smell that?" he asks to test the waters, but you and his brothers shake your heads.

There were times he wanted his untrained nose back- this was one of them.

He sighs as he keeps up the façade.

I think I might meet my end here, he thinks.

=====================

why was kuai liang hard to write for LOLOL

no yapping today, still trying to finish my requests

see y'all in the next fic!

[faeriekit]

hi! hope you're having an okay day. I was wondering if you had any fic recs, specifically with Matches Malone and/or identity shenanigans? I also really enjoy those fics :D hope you have a good day!

Identity shenanigans or Matches Malone?? Uhhhhhhhhhhh (*immediate panic*).

So the thing is, it really really really depends on what you, stranger, are comfortable with, and what you enjoy?? There are a lot of fics I like, or at least have tried out myself, but there are also a half-dozen that are super content sensitive, especially when it comes to, like, gang stuff and Gotham's underbelly...? I'm going to put a couple things here, but. Uh. I will also recommend just opening the Matches Malone tag on ao3 and applying your own filters, since I don't know any of your hard lines! There's only like 173 fics in total. Sorting through them is super easy. Have fun and be yourself.

On the other hand, I've got some stuff here:

Matches Malone identity nonsense:

⭐Good girls don't, but I do: Superbat, several undercover identities, gender fuckery (of what nature is up to reader interpretation), Journalist Clark Kent, and first time meetings! Unfinished so far, but super fun with a lot of potential! I am very excited about this one!!

⭐Have I told you about Minnie? Steph and Bruce bonding! Turns out, if you're pretending to be someone else, it's super easy to say nice things about your kids when they're not listening, lol...or are they? 👀

Matches Malone Has Too Many Kids: Man, weird how Matches Malone has as many kids as Brucie Wayne, huh....and boy will he tell you all about what his crime family has been up to! Features Bruce & Family bonding via undercover identities; what could go wrong?

⭐homewrecker: Omegaverse; Red Hood accidentally tells Two Face that Matches Malone (Bruce, undercover,) is his mom. ...Whoops. Now all of Gotham has an opinion on Matches' (Bruce) and Batman's (also Bruce) custody battle over their crime lord son, and new step-mom Bruce Wayne (also also Bruce) is asked to weigh in lmao. Top tier comedy. So dumb. Cannot recommend enough. Every single Bat kid takes the piss. Gotham's undergound is in a tizzy. Bruce is so, so tired.

⭐Under(under)cover: DC x White Collar. Tim, undercover as an ex-con in the government's favorite form of law enforcement, suddenly has to get the detectives around him off his back before his identity is exposed...so obviously pulling out a few Malone family members is a good enough distraction, right? 💀 Pretending you've recently escaped a crime family is totally not an extra burden to your already half-busted cover identity, Tim! There are no possible consequences for this!

Don't Mess with Ma's Boy: Ma's Boy, Metropolis's enforcer for Mafia head Ma Kent, catches a Bat in his back yard. Obviously, the solution is to show him around town and share street food, of course. (SuperBat, with Super Shenanigans lmao)

Other Malone nonsense (Batfam Identities Two, Electric Boogaloo):

Playing with Matches: Batfam-centric secondary identities schtick. You're a Malone! You're a Malone! Red Hood's a Malone?? Everyone's a Malone!! Outside POV from Red Hood's gang and more!

⭐Robbie Malone saves the day & spills secrets: a DC x White Collar undercover op extravaganza, featuring Jason and Dick as our MCs. (TW: does feature fears of sexual assault, nothing onscreen.)

The one who got away: another DC x White Collar fic. Turns out, uh, if you don't tell your new kid that you're the famous Gotham Bats or why one of Gotham's most famous untouchable mob families is coming around to visit all the time, they're going to come to their own conclusions! Those conclusions may not be flattering! They might be scared enough to cut and run, actually! You may have to apologize for making this extremely stressful on them!! ...If they let you back in at all!

Features smut (mostly SuperBat)(There are other ships in the tag they're just not my thing; go explore the tag yourself for other options):

⭐I want to sell what you're buying: Clark Kent, journalist, meets Matches Malone, informant, for a...wilder time than he was expecting to agree to on his trip into Gotham. (TW Fic eventually makes it more obvious that Clark knows who/what he's agreeing to, but it does read on the edge of identity dubcon for a hot minute if you're sensitive to that)

Matches and the Doll: I do love the dynamic of a ne'er do well and his extremely obedient Super as choice of undercover roles, but this is, at the end of the day, all leading up to wild exhibitionist smut FYI

Pretty Reporters Are Always In Need of Saving (title is largely self explanatory) is followed up with by a SuperBat week 2024 fill Good Boys Play with Matches. It's uh. You know. Alley sex and roleplay. Read the warnings.

Recs from the discord (Home of the Apiary Genders!)

(Un)Conventional Date Night: Dp x DC. Matches Malone and two out-of-town scientists tear up the town on their night off!

Your Boy That Was, the Son That Is... More Matches Malone & Red Hood identity angst. What happens when the son recognizes his father, but the man himself cannot?

Art:

Bruce as Matches Malone and Clark Illustration, as presented on ao3!

I think that's all I have time for today...? There are other identity shenanigan fics I love that aren't on here, but this list took me like an hour and a half and there is other writing I'm supposed to get done today...lol. I'm only 181 pages into this unreleased fic! I better get moving! 😜

Thanks for asking!🧡

[themotherofblood]

Dark!Daemyra x daughter!eeader but it’s their actual biological daughter (meaning rhaenyras the mom).

Remember in episode 4 when everyone thought that rhaenyra had her virtue taken by daemon? What if they actually had a kid?

Gosh I kinda made this a little too angsty so bare with me. I’m just really bad at writing to the point, I wanted to add some context to the smut hehe. So I hereby present

Dark!Daemyra x Daughter!reader

tw: incest, infantilism, cheating…(kinda?) murder, talks of more incest babies and kinda non con-ish? jason lannister (🤢) smut! oral, missionary kinda courrpution vibes. Threesome

7.8k words

A mistake, a grave mistake.

Not you, the one that had brightened Rhaenyra’s world with your little laugh, the one that had her hair and her uncle’s charisma - but the deed done to conceive you had been the most terrible of errors.

By right, you were Rhaenyra’s first-born child and heir; however, given the time of conception and the beautiful (pale, too pale) features you had been born with, it was obvious that you were not the offspring of Laenor Velaryon, but of her brutish uncle Daemon Targaryen. What remained were the rumours of Rhaenyra and Daemon coupling at a notorious brothel on the Street of Silk. Bastardy or the Iron Throne, that remained the question of your birthright to many. Your conception was a greater source of whispers and slander than that of your brown-haired ‘Strong’ brothers.

You weren’t raised in the Red Keep; with the brunt of the court upon your muña’s shoulders, she’d hoped to keep you shielded away from the cruel gossip that surrounded you even at the mere age of five. You hadn’t even set eyes upon her for years, making do with the letters that detailed how much she missed you and a chest full of trinkets and dolls to share with the young daughters of the vassal lords sworn to Dragonstone.

Daemon Targaryen, on the other hand was truly banished after word of his murdering his first wife Rhea Royce reached his brother’s - your grandsire’s - ears. While there was no formal accusation nor trial, Viserys was simply at his wit's end with the reckless goings-on of his younger brother. He had left Westeros even before your mother had realised that the moon tea she had consumed had not worked.

Daemon found his family elsewhere. After slaying a sea lord who was promised the hand of Laena Velaryon, he married her and then fled to Pentos with her and her dragon. The word of a Targaryen bastard being born from the Crown Princess was most certainly to spread like a plague, far enough to reach your kepa’s ears. He wanted to come back the second he heard of you, but his brother denied his request. When you were shipped off to Dragonstone, he wished to fetch you - but this time, his wife refused him, not wishing to raise the love child he had with his niece.

He had begun to send letters of Valyrian poetry, old texts of Valyrian romance and many other trinkets. You had written to him the day you claimed your dragon, which happened in a hilarious accident as you had trailed through the Dragonmont to make friends with a silver dragon, a she-dragon named Silverwing. Though the letter you had written had gone without reply, you had waited for a year and then accepted the dark truth. He had other daughters and another family. By request of the King, you were raised by Septas and the handmaidens at Dragonstone.

At present, you waited by the Painted Table. While one might not have been eager at the sound of people returning from a funeral, you indeed were. Mother had spent four moons at Dragonstone, leaving the Red Keep behind for good until the time arrived for her ascension. These four months had been bliss; you were introduced to your brothers. When you had first departed, Lucerys was still a babe suckling at Rhaenyra’s breast. Now, she returned with another little babe. -Your good-father returned as well, the one knight that could have flung your body high to the skies and caught you right in time. He had engulfed you in an embrace the moment he saw you.

Then came the letter of Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the world shifted under your good-father’s feet. With respect to Laena’s memory and the illegitimacy of your station, the Queen Alicent had advised Rhaenyra to not have you come along with the family. You were accustomed to such treatment; it mattered not. Yet the news of your kepa’s return churned your belly. You had never laid eyes on the man, having seen a mere few portraits hung in the grand galleries at Dragonstone. He looked much like you when he was a babe, and yet the older he grew you imagined him to be the embodiment of the courteous knights you read of in your books.

You had worn your nicest dress, and your preparations had begun with digging through all the letters he had ever sent you, having the chefs prepare his favourite foods and procuring a fat sheep for Caraxes. The household staff all lined themselves up by the halls. It had been years since their Rogue Prince returned home. While many admired the man, others feared him. Regardless of his reputation, there had been respect for his name upon every rock on the island.

Rhaenyra had walked in first with your brothers, her face softening at seeing you looking eagerly at the grand doors. She hugged you, rubbing the side of your arms as she stood behind you. Your sisters… You weren’t sure if they would have taken it well if you called them such. They were introduced first as a knight called out their titles. They bowed first, reminding you that you were a Princess and they only ladies. Then, everything went silent - you heard the thudding of boots before your vision was clouded by the image of shoulder-length silver hair.

Daemon Targaryen stood atop the steps, hands held together in front of him. He commanded the room with just his purple eyes. Your eyes. You were so entranced by his presence you almost forgot to ask about your good-father. He approached you, a princely smile upon his lips, and you failed to keep your lady-like composure.

The first thing that came from his mouth was your name. Your name had never sounded so wondrous as it did at that very moment. He greeted you, and your voice abandoned you as you opened your mouth to return his niceties. You must have looked like a fool, mouth parted as no words came forth. Your mother’s voice snapped you from whatever had possessed you.

“The honour is mine, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. You wanted nothing more than to call him kepa - but there was so much unsaid. It didn’t seem appropriate to you at the moment.

Another two fortnights passed, and you were still grappling with the thought that both the people that created you now sat with you as you broke fast. Your brothers again ran wild in your chambers and now, you had two little sisters - twins.

One night, your mother came to your room, looking far happier than she usually was as she sat at the edge of your bed. You put your book away on your lap, awaiting whatever it is she wanted to tell you.

“Your kepa and I are to be wed!”

You had helped dress her for the very day. Your legitimacy was now sealed with fire and blood as your parents swore their vows to the Fourteen Flames. You had hand-lit every yellow and red candle along with your siblings, being perhaps the happiest you had been in all your life. Maester Gerardys had perhaps shared your joy, having raised you in these very halls and witnessing your disappointment whenever there had been no letter from Rhaenyra nor Daemon.

Their marriage was beautiful. Both looked far deeper in love than any poet could ever profess in words. There was longing, a sense of time lost between them. Perhaps, in a way - as they looked at you after sealing their union with a kiss - you were their love made flesh and bone, their blood running through your veins. Two ears, ten fingers and toes, and eyes that flared with the same longing Rhaenyra and Daemon had so long had for one another.

Both made concerted efforts between the sheets to reclaim the years lost, and they made efforts with you, offering you the attention you deserved from them. Daemon smiled ear-to-ear as he saw you loving up against his grandmother’s former mount, an elegant creature that matched your demeanour.

Daemon had once said “the gods give, as they take away.” Those words had come to royally interrupt the quaint life he lived with his family at Dragonstone. Word was to indefinitely spread about him marrying his niece, and soon did it grace the ears of his brother - and his cunt of a Hand. A white raven, the symbol of urgency, bore the demand that the entire household of the Blacks were to present themselves at Viserys’s court. There was no indication of whether the King approved or not, but naught was to be done other than abide by his brother’s demands. Thus, the older children mounted their dragons along with Daemon and Rhaenyra and set the course for their journey to the Red Keep.

Your memories had been rather faint of these halls. You remembered walking them and all your heart felt was its cold aura. It wasn’t home. Their welcome hadn’t been warm to be sure - a wheelhouse had received you at the Dragonpit alongside your parents, Baela, Rhaena and Jacaerys. Your Septa had squeezed you into a tight corset, one that you had never worn before, your hair braided far too tight for your liking. It was how the ladies dressed at court, they had told you.

The Targaryen guards had led your family straight to the Throne Room. Crowds of people assembled on both sides and the gallery crawled with young ladies, some your age, some younger. You had slotted yourself behind your kepa’s larger frame, finding an odd urge to hide as every eye in the room seemed to have been fixated on you and every whisper called your name. You hoped you were a lady enough to satiate whatever expectations these strangers had thrust upon your shaking hands.

Viserys was furious, as furious as he could be given his condition. He wasn’t the man you remember, his full cheeks and the head of hair that you had inherited and a hand gone. He pulled himself by using his sword Blackfyre as a cane, accusing his brother - your sweet kepa - of terrible obscenities. You wanted to defend him, you truly did. You wanted to scream, lecture the court on the man Daemon Targaryen really was. Of how much he loved his family, so much so that he had abandoned you the day his late wife begged him so.

There was much said and done, most of which made the corners of your eyes water with furious tears as you reached for your mother’s hands. Everything Viserys and Otto Hightower questioned about their union directly mirrored your existence.

It was a sham. You weren’t a sham.

It was a manipulation. You weren’t a lie.

It was a crime, that much was true; you were a bastard, after all. You were Rhaenyra’s first-born, yet stood to inherit nothing. You were the shield that politically protected your brothers. This marriage put everything into question. Who were you anymore?

What you were was a perfect example and a trap for Otto Hightower to lay in the King’s lap, offering you as an auspicious match with House Lannister. Of course, the words were never to be said, but this marriage was a blessing from the gods for the likes of you. You were ambushed by the Small Council on the second day of your return to the Red Keep.

The second the name of Jason Lannister spilt through your grand-sire’s lips, Rhaenyra was outraged. Never had you witnessed her this crazed over something, her eyes dark and voice low. She matched the intimidating aura of your father, perhaps giving you a glimpse of the similarities between them.

“She is to be my heir!” Rhaenyra argued, her voice booming through the chambers. “I will not have you sell her like you tried with me, father!”

The debate had grown heated. Jason was a proud man, from what you had heard, and your mother fought on your behalf for a different right altogether. For once (in your own stupidity) you saw purpose, a purpose you viewed as your grand-sire’s affection; a sense of duty you had never felt before. After so long spending your days wandering in the world of your own head, for once you felt a woman. A false sense of naive hope. When Rhaenyra urged that they in the least listen to what you had to say, your words echoing through the chambers were the last thing she expected.

“I will do my duty if that is what the King wishes,” you nervously mumbled. “The throne would not agree with me, mother.”

That had been five years ago. You were a proud lion now, or so said the letters that you sent home every other moon. You had been a dutiful wife to Jason Lannister, to be sure. Your bastardy had been allayed by the magnificent dragon you claimed, and your womb that would finally bring the glory of possessing dragon eggs to the Lannister name. He had been a good husband to you, showering you with gold and fineries beyond your needs, a perfectly dolled-up Targaryen wife dressed in the crimsons and gold of the Lannister heritage. You wanted to enjoy it, you truly did. You had craved such attention from a young age, but something in your mind nagged that it wasn’t genuine.

You spent much of your time hidden in the library, which Lord Jason had at first said would have made your little head spin.

You had claimed victory over it in a mere year, and so you had asked for more books; if he was to spoil you so, perhaps he could provide you with something of more use. And yet, your chests continued to be filled with more jewellery, the finest dresses and boots. You would scold yourself for not finding joy in this. There were children starving in the country and you complained of fine dresses being too much.

The love-making between you was respectable, quick. It was far easier than the complicated mess your Septa had chastely told you about. You would spread your legs for him and just lay there. However, once the first year of your union passed and you still hadn’t borne a child, things grew ugly.

Jason had been dismissive at first, petting your head and claiming your youth as the impediment of your lack of conception. Then, it was the Maesters hounding you with ways to be with child. from putting your legs high in the air after being pumped full of your lord husband’s seed to avoiding wines at feasts. They recommended positions to be placed in; then, they requested that you refrain from dragon riding. Your favourite foods were targeted soon after, the spices in them after that; and soon, your meals were left with just salt in them.

That bled to the third year of your marriage. The gossip that had been abandoned because of your wedding was now set ablaze yet again. You suffered it all with a stiff lip.

The latest requirement had been for you to remain abed for most of the day, a consequence for going against your husband’s wishes and riding Silverwing after eight moons without. There was just something in her eyes that begged you to ride her, perhaps to save you from your own misery. When you returned, you had been grateful that you rode her.

The flattery that your lord husband had doted upon you with before bedding you had long faded with frustration. Couplings had always been a chore, but now it was painful as you laid there wishing for it to end. He would enter your chambers, undoing his doublet and you just knew. You would push down your small-clothes and spread your legs for him before returning to slumber alone. You had counted every petal embroidered onto your canopy as Jason grunted in your ear. You would run your fingers down his back, his hair, hoping to make him peak sooner.

One night, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to lay with him from how exhausted you had been, barely being able to eat the boiled food and enduring yet another feast that ran from dusk to dawn. You refused him politely, hoping that he would lounge with you or leave you to your endeavours alone. Instead, he lectured you on your duty, his breath stinking of strong wine as he forcefully yanked you towards your bed. You had protested, fought against his hold, but it had no effect on him. He had easily torn through your shift as he had turned you to your belly. All you remembered were the stern words of your inability to provide him with heirs when the whores down at brothels of Lannisport had already birthed bastards for him, your head shoved into the pillow to muffle your protests, and then the dread as you felt his seed from within you spill onto your sheets.

He took you in such a manner twice more, growing further irate with the judgments of his family. He was your husband - he had the right. That was, until your sheets were stained in red once more. The handmaidens and the maesters all huffed in defeat yet again, and you were sure your husband had been at a brothel for his business down at Lannisport.

So you ran.

Silverwing roared as she perched herself upon Casterly Rock, scaring the knights in their golden helms away. She flew you swiftly through the skies, heading towards the one place you felt the safest, the one place you should have returned to years before.

“Dārilaros, Silverwing ēza sepār māzigon naejot se Dragonmont,” a Dragonkeeper hastily informed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to Daemon who was seated next to her by the Painted Table as they went over season books for the fourth moon. They wasted no time in hurrying past Aegon’s Garden to see you, their daughter, dismounting Silverwing in a red gown. They rejoiced, finally setting eyes upon their blood after five years. The second you laid eyes upon your mother, you rushed to engulf her. Daemon wrapped his arms around both his wife and you, placing a kiss atop your head.

You had returned to your bedchamber in the Sea Dragon Tower, claiming that you were overdue a visit and your duties had freed you for long enough to fly home. Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra were daft; you had arrived devoid of any riding clothes, dressed in a heavy gown and jewellery. With no clothes nor belongings, it was obvious that something had happened, but they allowed you your space.

You were overjoyed at being able to let your hair down and wear your old gowns. You had slept that night, sprawled across your bed like a happy child, fed and tucked in.

As the days passed, you were introduced to your new siblings - not half-siblings, but ones who shared the same parentage, the same blood as you. You learned of the toddler named Aegon and a babe of one and eight moons named Viserys, and the healthy girl your mother had named Visenya. You found much joy in meeting them. They reminded you of your childhood, though you were perhaps a little envious that they would grow up in much better circumstances than you did.

Rhaenyra had found you one afternoon, humming a Valyrian lullaby to Visenya, the words of which you had forgotten years before but you had hummed to yourself at nights to remind yourself of the memory of home. You were the blood of the dragon; you were the daughter of dragons. That glint of sorrow in your eyes had told Rhaenyra all that she needed to know.

“It is a matter of heirs,” she had told Daemon as he helped her onto their marital bed. “I fear what they might have imposed on her, Daemon.”

Rhaenyra knew first-hand of Jason Lannister’s pride.

“She doesn’t look herself anymore,” Daemon agreed. While Rhaenyra dreamt of a beneficial way of helping you, Daemon had already dreamt of a far more violent one, for years beforehand.

A prideful man with a runaway bride has never been a great song. Jason had set sail himself to retrieve his wayward wife from Dragonstone, winged beast to lead back into your golden cage. His ship was filled with more trinkets and fineries to sway you and your parents to hand you back to him, a place he believed you belonged.

He presented himself at Rhaenyra’s court as she sat the throne at Dragonstone. Without an inkling of enthusiasm or warmth, she accepted her son-in-law’s presence with Daemon standing next to her, also unimpressed by the blonde fool.

“I have come to convey my sweet wife home. Casterly Rock is much too cold without her fire,” he cajoled, his voice echoing through the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Rhaenyra had sent for you the second she had greeted your husband in the chambers. You arrived but moments later, your cheeks filled with colour from devouring your lunch of roast goose. Your feet abruptly halted the moment you saw the hair yellowish-blonde hair, knowing it could mean only one thing. Rhaenyra’s eyes caught yours first, and then your husband turned to find you in what he would deem a distasteful gown.

You hiked your skirts and bolted down the other corridor, paying no mind to the rain pouring heavily outside and running through Aegon’s Garden. Silverwing had already perched herself atop the Dragonmont as she had felt your distress. Her roar echoed with the thundering in the clouds above. Daemon chased after you, his quick feet catching up to yours with ease.The household guard blocked your path from exiting through the gates of Dragonstone.

“No, no! Please!” you wailed as Daemon caught onto your hands. “I cannot go back! Please, don’t send me back!”

Daemon’s eyes flared in concern over your distraught face. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you only screamed louder over the heavy pattering of rain.

“I will throw myself off the Windwrym Tower if you send me with him! Please, please, do not make me go back,” you cried. Your kepa pulled you closer, shushing your pained sobs as you begged harder.

Daemon had managed to reassure you that no one would force you back to Casterly Rock unless you wished it so. He had been horrified at how miserable you must be to threaten your own life in order to remain at Dragonstone, and his blood boiled to learn the truth of the matter. Rhaenyra had the servants prepare a room for your lord husband in an entirely different tower. You felt secure in knowing that Jason wouldn’t be allowed in the Sea Dragon Tower since it housed your chambers as well as your parents' chambers a floor above.

This is where you were brought after your handmaidens had helped you out of your soaking wet gown, huddled by the hearth crackling with a freshly stoked fire, a blanket of soft furs and a cup of warm tea in your hands. While you chose to sit on the floor, Daemon sat on his armchair, hoping to make you speak. Your wet hair clung to the sides of your face, a face that was once filled with so much light. Now, it hid something from him, and he couldn’t bear it.

“If you won’t tell me what happened, I cannot protect you,” he urged, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What has happened, zaldrītsosi?”

You shook your head once more, making Daemon groan in frustration. You played with the rim of the tea cup, circling your finger around it, over and over again. You felt your father’s frustrations, gods know you had endured it yourself for years. In truth you were embarrassed of your inability to be a good wife, perhaps the harshness your lord husband had showed you- you deserved it.

The chamber door opened once more with Rhaenyra finally making her way to you, while Daemon felt clueless about what caused your outburst. Rhaenyra had her suspicions, she shuffled her skirts to lower herself next to you, she didn’t ask a thing but just wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Letting you know that you were taken care of, that you were home. Whatever tactic was this, it worked as the first words of your confession echoed through the chambers.

“I cannot go back,” you said, “He deserves to find another wife.”

You had tried to be the loveable wife your mother had been to both her husbands. She bore three sons for the first and three more children for your kepa, within the matter of five years when you couldn’t even conceive one.

“He is lucky to have a wife like you,” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to your temple.

You shook your head again “I’m not so…perfect like you.”

Rhaenyra frowned, never once had she wanted you to feel this inferior but your insecurities had been radiating through your skin. Daemon remained silent, letting his wife coax your reasoning out of you, perhaps you would do it quicker so he could fetch Dark Sister and resolve the matter.

“Lord Jason is my husband, he has a right to be sure,” you whispered, nuzzling further into Muña's embrace. “The way he held me down, for refusing to lay with him…” your voice trailed “I n-never want to feel that, ever again.”

Daemon saw red, even more so for the reason that you had not a clue of what had happened to you. A crime he had dismembered many during his days as the commander of the gold cloaks, his wife’s eyes shot to him. Silently begging him to not act on his anger just yet, he agreed - you needed them more. Your cries were silent, calmer than the onslaught before, Daemon let your head as you whimpered in your mother’s arms.

Somewhere along the evening you had succumbed to your exhaustion, Daemon had carried you into their bed and tucked you in. The silence left Rhaenyra and Daemon with a grave decision, they would have to petition Viserys to have your marriage annulled, however to lay the history of what you had suffered bare in court. The plea had to come from you, Rhaenyra had shuffled under the furs that night, her warm fingers trying to soothe the frown you sported even in you sleep. Daemon hummed that familiar lullaby as you stirred, feeling their bodies mould to yours - only this time you remembered the words.

Come morning, Rhaenyra had sent for Jason Lannister early in the morning; she had left her lady in waiting - Elinda Massey - to watch after you as you slept sprawled across their bed. In very distasteful words, Rhaenyra shunned your husband, Daemon stood beside her with his hand eagerly gripped around the pompel of Dark Sister. He paced back and forth, internally begging his wife to let him have the Lannister cunt’s head.

When you awoke, Elinda had helped you prepare yourself for the day. Your shoulders felt lighter, like a burden lifted from your shoulders. A content smile had finally adorned your face as you lounged in your parents chambers (far too elated). Rhaenyra returned from court with Daemon at her heel, trying to walk away the burning rage within her before she greeted you. She had sat you down, telling you of how Jason had returned to Casterly Rock and that the Blacks were to petition the royal court once more to have your marriage annulled. You threw your arms around Rhaenyra, profusely thanking her as she petted your hair.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered over your face for a little longer, the fullness of your cheeks, the purple of your eyes; gave her glimpses of herself and Daemon. There was something that overcame her, a subject Daemon and Rhaenyra had spoken at length about - first after their wedding night and second was last night. Her thumbs stroked your cheeks before her rosy lips found yours, it wasn’t a chaste kiss and yet the feeling that churned in you belly. You had yearned to feel it through the five torturous years of your marriage, when she pulled away you were stunned. Eyes glossed and mind in shambles.

“You are the glorious thing that came from us, sweet girl,” she whispered “you are to remain with us now, forever.”

She had pulled you up to stand in between your kepa and her, he was silently observing your reactions. You felt entrapped, not in the malicious way you had been caged in your marital bed, but the tenderness they had for you anchored you down, engulfing you in warmth. Daemon turned to hold your face in his hands, his roughed digits stroking at your heated blush stained cheeks.

“Let us take you the way you were meant to, let us show you riñītsos,” he requested. What were you to do? Pull away from the affection you were being dotted with after beggin for it for years. You nodded, mumbling a meek yes.

Rhaenyra turned you towards her again, both kepa and her working with haste to strip your body off your gown, leaving trails of sweet kisses upon your pale skin. The back of your neck to the pulsing at your wrists, they showed you reasons to live; showed reasons of why you were the most precious thing in the Known world. The smell from Rhaenyra’s flowered soaps mixed with Daemon’s woody ones, encasing you between their larger frames. You perked breasts spilt free first, your mother’s warm mouth immediately trapped the pebble between her lips. Suckling to harden them, and leave bruises of passion apon your milky skin. Daemon joined her efforts, his lips claiming your neck as he held you hand.

You couldn’t breathe, one would find lust, passion or even contentment within the feel of their lips but a deeper pit bubbles in your stomach. When you blinked your eyes open, they welled in tears and your breath hitched. Fighting to take in a bigger gasp of air, the years went on and you truly felt as beastly as they saw Silverwing. One incapable being found desirable, that your husband would resort to pumping bastards into tavern whores. You face scrunched, scolding yourself to enjoy this and yet you didn’t want them to see you bare; perhaps they would hate you too.

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened the moment she saw your discomfort and kissed your cheek. Hoping you would confess your feelings without coaxing.

“I won’t be to your liking,” you hung your head low, more tears streamed down your face.

“Nonsen - you are the most beautiful girl in the Known world,” Rhaenyra reassured, lifting your face to look at her. Perhaps it was something in her eyes that made you want to believe her flattery.

“How can you know?” You sniffed, wiping the tears with your wrists.

“We made you, who else would know better?” Daemon said, his voice softer than usual as looked down at you.

Mother had been incapable of bedding Daemon since birthing Visenya two moons ago, she was still healing. They believed that it was your husband’s incapacity to impregnate you; all your life at Dragonstone your moonblood’s course had been near perfect. It was to their benefit, your womb deserved to carry pure Valyrian babes anyhow. A witted mind may even see this as an advantage, with you as Rhaenyra’s heir. The silver of your hair, the smile that matched Daemon’s and little Valyrian babes of your own. Your mother’s claim would remain untouchable.

Daemon had led you to their bed, perhaps now your own. Rhaenyra had stripped herself to just her corset and chemise, while she intended on assisting her husband she would be a fool to not find pleasure in Daemon bedding you. Your father had been displeased as you crawled into bed and spread your legs open for him. While he admired the gesture of you presenting yourself to him, he tutted at how bereft of pleasures you were.

“Fucking is a pleasure you see, for the man and woman,” he had sultry eyes set upon you as he devices of ways to have you screaming for him.

Your legs already remained parted for him as you held your inner thighs, you were expecting his cock to penetrate you and yet he was fully clothed. It was horror that filled you next as Daemon kneeled by the edge of the bed, his fingers gently stroked the sides for your mound before he flattened his tongue on your slit.

“K-kepa what are you d-,” a whine tore through your lips as you felt his lips suckling at your sensitive flesh. Daemon feasted on your cunny, like a delicacy with exotic flavours plated just for him. You muña had skittles herself next you, bracketing a leg to hold your thigh open as she paid much needed attention to your nipples. Her fingers toyed with one as her mouth nibbled on the other.

The throes of coupling were all you’d known awhile you dutifully suffered in the sheets, this - this - was tenacious; never ending as it hurtled you further into its depravity. The sounds of your squelching cunt and Daemon humming against your folds as Rhaenyra whispered the sweetest of endearments in your ears, their little girl…made just for them to ruin.

Daemon locked his palm against your, tangling your fingers between in him a silent call of, he was here for you, he would take care of you. Rhaenyra caressed your flushed face, the tickle of delicate fingertips distracted you from your insecurities. Your cunny felt the stretch of your Kepa's fingers, his thick digit knuckle deep within you. You hadn’t realised your body could even feel this way, so weightless that all you felt was the throbbing around your puffy bud. The textures on his tongue fondling with the tender flesh, how soft his actions were along with your mother’s ministrations of keeping the rest of your bare body ablaze.

You found your voice, as your breathy mewls turned to a shameless moans because of Daemon’s finger gracing a foreign spot within you; pumping in and out repeatedly. Your hips hiked off the bed, grinding into your kepa’s mouth. He gently held your hip down, you arched you back, unable to decipher the waves of tingles that ran up your thighs.

“Please, please!” you begged, unsure of it as you pleaded for, all you body seemed to yell at you was to find the ending.

A sudden, furious bliss burst through your core; you hadn’t felt anything like it before. You screamed their name, praying to the Gods to save you. You felt his tongue still laying soft licks on your bed as your thighs clenched around his head. You fell flat back against the beds, heavy breathing as you tried to gather your bearings.

“Wh- what…?” You couldn’t finish the question clouding your mind, your words lost on your lips.

“That sweet girl…was your peak,” Rhaenyra gingerly placed a kiss upon your temple. Her fingers mindlessly trailed up and down the valley of her breasts.

My peak…my peak you had incoherently whispered under your breath. “Will you bed me now?” You looked at your father expectantly.

“Would you like me too… would you like kepa to pump you full of his seed?” He whispered against your folded thighs as he pressed wet kisses across your pale flesh.

Your head eagerly nodded, wanting to feel more of what the art of pleasures had to offer. You wanted this ecstasy that Daemon spoke off. You wanted to drown yourself in it, having someone touch you so brutally broke a part of your aura - tragically - but your kepa and muña sewed your pieces back together. A cascading light that hurtled towards misery now floated high above the clouds, happy as you should have been.

“Say it riñītsos,” Rhaenyra whispered against your lips.

“Please bed me, kepa,” you asked, eyes flaring purple as did theirs. You shuffled against his hold on your thighs, the skin w clawing at your insides.

Daemon looked at Rhaenyra and chuckled, shaking his head at your niceties. “Such a polite thing, our daughter.” Rhaenyra indulged in stripping her husband for you, peeling his doubly away from him before freeing him from his breeches. Your kepa’s member was far more monstrous than your lord husband’s, it spurred a fear under your chest; the memories of bedding and the last night you had shared Jason’s bed were fresh within your mind. Daemon caught onto the apprehension that flared in the purple of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “M’ going to be gentle…unless you ask me not to be,”

You hadn’t understood what he meant but your heart eased, preparing yourself to feel the bitter stretch of his bulbous tip at your entrance. Braced in position you waited for the burn to flare through your nethers but it never came. Merely the pressure of the hard line pushing you open, a little uncomfortable at best but the pain you had expected was nowhere to be found. You blinked your eyes upon, pulling yourself to grace upon where yours and Daemon’s body connected. You hissed at the fullness but appeared shocked, you looked to him; his eyes softened at the state of your discovery. Coupling was never meant to be a chore.

Rhaenyra circled her fingers upon your yearning pearl, you greedily raised your head pleading for her to kiss you and so she did. Her rounded mouth moulded against yours, a kiss that once rose bile to your throat - the tongues being far too much - your kittenish hum invited her in willingly. You could taste your shared breath, commanding you with the grape scent of her lips. Daemon had begun rocking himself, determined strokes rutting into your - his sweet cunny - his baby’s warm walls as he could barely contain himself from watching your mother dote upon you with honeyed vulgarity.

Daemon grunted, wanting to feel the touch of your lips as he tucked his hands behind the small of your back. You held your kepa’s face in your hands, lifting yourself just enough to taste the spiced wine that linger on his lips; his tongue raspily greeted yours. You mewled into his mouth, legs wrapping around his rear as your Rhaenyra and Daemon took turns whispering sweet obscenities in your ear. They made this cunny for them to use… kepa would breed you swollen of his Valyrian babes, pure babes. There perfect little dragon

Naught was of importance as you begged kepa to piston within you harder, you body smothered between the ones of your blood (warm, far too warm). Trickles of tears that fell from the corners of your eyes disappear in your hairline, Daemon wiped them - grunting louder - with his adoration directed straight st you. Rhaenyra had pulled him closer for a kiss, tasting you upon his lip as his hammering never once faltered. You wanted to peak again, you wanted to fly again.

“K-kepa, I- so good,” your words muddled at the tip of your tongue, but the way your cunt fluttered around his cock. There was just one reason to be sure. He looked to Rhaenyra, a short nod of his followed with your muña fingers working in tighter - quicker - circles around your throbbing nub.

“Oh - that’s it, pretty girl, come for kepa…wet his cock,” Rhaenyra cooed at you, your back arched off the bed. A longing whine tore through your lip, pleading Daemon to go harder. He obliged, haunching his body over as his shoulders laid flush against your chest. His heavy stones slapping against your rear. You wanted it, your insides clawed at you to peak.

“Our sweet little dragon, come - come now.”

Daemon’s order hadn’t gone unheard, in true fashion of a father’s daughter you peaked for him, your pleasures gushing through you core as your scream lodged itself at the back of your throat. Leaving only whimpers and squeaks behind as your finger nails dug into Daemon’s shoulder.

Days had passed since, once you had tasted the world of pleasures, the next four day you had spent either bouncing on your kepa’s cock; begging him to fill your cunt or muña fingers pulling peak after peak from your body.

The moment of truth arrived sooner that you had expected, you had flown to court once more. Viserys had been gravely ill, as a mourning grandchild your heart ached for what had become of the once proud king. As a wronged wife, you feared if Otto Hightower would have your best intentions in sight. Whil by marriage it would have been appropriate for you to wear an alarmingly bright red gown and jewellery of gold. You had come dressed in the darker crimsons of your house as you stood in between your kepa and muña.

Jason Lannister presented an elaborate case, claiming you as his - how your place was at Casterly Rock and not behind your mother’s skirts. He even made attempts to approach you, but the deathly glare Daemon had set upon your husband made Jason’s cowardice known. The Blacks and Greens had separated them on each end, and by the passing day it had become rather evident that if you returned with Jason, your support of your mother would be squandered under their golden foot.

Otto Hightower then called the Blacks forwards as he sat upon the Targaryen throne as if it were his own. Rhaenyra stepped forward to petition on your behalf but was dismissed by her old bitter companion Alicent Hightower - the Queen.

“Your daughter is far above her age to petition for herself, Princess Rhaenyra, unless she is daft…?” Alicent retorted.

Your eyes darted between your mother and father as they looked to your covering frame, they wanted to protest but what other choice had they given you. With cautious mannerisms you stepped forward, cultivating your sentences of beggary in your head to not stumble upon them. Your fingers fiddled with one another as you stood at the front of the throne room; with the entire court gathered to see your humiliation. Much of everything had sounded muffled to you, they would send you back, he would take you back. You should have flung yourself the first chance you had.

The night before, Rhaenyra had visited her father’s chambers. Maternal tears coating her face as she begged her father for you life. Daemon had told her of your threat to end your existence. What she thought were pleadings fallen to deaf ears, she had hoped to use her inheritance to save you from this curse or have Daemon flee with you to Essos. To remain there until Rhaenyra would take the throne.

Perhaps a call from the heavens answered your pleas (Rhaenyra’s efforts in truth) the grand door to the Throne Room opened, your grand-sire limping his way through a startled court. An old dragon lashing out to protect his blood once more, you moved away. Mouth agape just as the rest, Viserys had come to sit on his throne after four years of sabbatical.

To shield your honour, as your father - Daemon approached his brother to present your case in private. Telling him of the cruelties you had suffered and Jason’s inability to provide you heirs. To which Viserys coughed out his disdain on the Lannister’s lack of providing his granddaughter with heirs.

“Her heir? Tis my family that would be shamed because she is barren. Yet I choose to take my sweet wife back to my noble seat.” Jason scoffed, looking at Rhaenyra like she was delusional.

Rhaenyra passed a knowing look to Daemon before letting go of your hand. She looked right at the vast lords gathered at the court “My first born, my daughter is to be my heir. Your future Queen and a second wife to my prince consort.”

Horrid gasps echoed through the Throne Room, Alicent looked disgusted along with her father. You looked at your mother in shock, unable to grapple the titles she had just placed in your lap.

“Your grace! This is an abomination!” Otto Hightower protested, hoping for the King to see reason.

“She cannot be Queen…” Jason muttered, just as shocked as you.

“And w- why is that?” Viserys coughed.

“Well she is…” his blond brows furrowed tightly, his glare fixated upon you for embarrassing him. Your father raised a challenging brow to him, say it…say it Daemon prayed as he once again clutched the pommel of Dark Sister, he looked to his wife and begged like a toddler to let him end this. Rhaenyra looked at Daemon through his periphery and agreed, subtly nodding at him.

“She is a bastard,” he shrugged, looking appalled, finding this entire situation ridiculous.

Viserys groaned, huffing as he unsheathed his dagger; angered and ready to place his judgement. “I will have your tongue for that!”

Thwack!

You hadn’t realised when your kepa had moved from behind you to trail behind your husband - headless husband - your mother yanked back to look away from the decapitated corpse as knights all around charged at Daemon. He merely wiped his sword away at his cape, before returning to stand next to you.

“You’re a widow now,” he smugly whispered in your ear.

[in1-nutshell]

THE DRAMA THAT THE REVEAL WOULD CAUSE

I need Ophelia to NEVER leave her armor the moment Megatron is on board and it throws everyone for a loop.  Like they were just getting used to Minimus Ambus coming out of the armor every now and then suddenly they have to start craning their neck to look up at Ophelia.  No one questions it, she’s small and practically grew up during the war, maybe this is just her way of feeling safe with the tyrant on board now.  

I need Ratchet and Chromdome to give each other increasingly awkward looks the longer it goes on. Megatron is totally unaware that the child he abandoned is staring him right in the face.

And I need someone to snap.  Someone who watched Ophelia grow up and saw how Megatron's abandonment affected her.  Maybe it's not about Ophelia to start with at all, maybe it's about war, the stress, the complete lack of justice he faced for his crimes and while they’re ranting they throw in the cherry on top that is Ophelia without thinking.

I need the realization, the awkward attempts at reconciliation, THE FUCKING ANSWERS

And I need the crew's reaction

Only certain crewmebers KNOW Ophelia's true story.

Others just know about the tiny minibot piloting a war machine and takes strolls around the ship every other day humming to human music.

Hope you enjoy!

Ophelia's identity reveal?

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

With the arrival of Megatron, it brought certain changes in the ship.

One being the introduction to the status of ‘Co-captain’.

Ophelia had a feeling Rodimus was behind that change, or at least had an influence.

Another was how many bots started making graffiti and saying… certain things to the ex-warlord’s face.

All which he never said anything back.

Many of the lonelier bots soon started to group up, making it a bit difficult for Megatron to ‘make friends.

And many bots on the ship realized that Ophelia was staying in the suit for much longer.

Ophelia sitting with Perceptor at the bar. Perceptor: “How long have you been in there?” Ophelia: “What?” Perceptor: “The frame. Doesn’t it need maintenance soon? You usually have Ratchet take the su—” Ophelia quickly gives him a look at Megatron and shakes her helm. Thankfully he got the message. Ophelia coughs a bit. Ophelia: “Thankfully there hasn’t been any ‘big’ has happened yet, so we can keep maintenance off for a bit longer.” Perceptor: “As long as you get it maintained…” Ophelia: “I will Percy.” Perceptor sighs at the nickname as Ophelia giggled a bit.

Ophelia refused to leave her armor.

She got away with her name already.

Thank Primus, he never gave her an actual name.

But if he SAW her?

Sure, there was a change in her kibble and slight armor modification, but Megatron would definitely recognize her.

…right?

Still, not worth taking the risk…

She figured to take the suit off in private, but now with Ravage on board, it changed plans.

The minibot already heard around that Ravage found her smell to be familiar.

It scared her more than dealing with any six-changer head on.

What if he found out who she really was and told Megatron?

What would he do to her if he found out?

Many of the bots who knew her relation with Megatron often found themselves giving each other long stares whenever the ex-war lord came within 10 feet from her.

Sometimes even acting when she looked uncomfortable.

Chromedome is having a drink at Swerve’s with Rewind. Suddenly feels like someone is staring at him and looks around. Ratchet was looking at him and glancing behind him. Chromedome sees Ophelia… and Ravage. Ophelia notices Ravage coming closer to her side. She tenses up a bit trying to think of an excuse to leave. A servo suddenly pats her servo. Chromedome: “Hey ‘Lia, Rewind wants to ask you some questions.” He begins to pull her away from the bar and away from the felicon. Ophelia gently squeezes his servo. Ophelia: “Thanks Domey.” Chromedome squeezes back. Chromedome: “No problem kid.”

The small group was not prepared for a random drunk bot to be the cause of Ophelia’s near reveal.

It was another night at Swerve’s.

Several bots were at the bar.

Engex was being poured.

And drunken bots spoke their minds.

This random bot came up, stumbling, to Megatron and started cursing him out about starting the war, how it affected them and other bots around them.

Whirl saw this as a moment to throw a bot out (he had been itching to throw someone out for a few minutes).

But when the bot started going after Whirl things started heating up.

Random bot: “And what is it to ya Whirl!? You should just stay outta this.” Whirl: “The only reason you aren’t face down on the floor is because I choose not to indulge in bits of violence… for now. SO, unless you really want these claws, I suggest you get your sorry metal hide and beat it!” The random bot laughs. Random bot: “Please! You’re about as useless as Ophelia—” SLAP! Whirl stood over the bot angerly. Whirl: “Keep her name OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!” Random bot: “What? You don’t want to here how much of a wash up that little—” Megatron stands behind Whirl and looks down at the bot. Megatron: “I suggest you consider your next words carefully.” Random bot getting up: “So you can hit me? No blast me with your fusion cannon? Why defend someone you barely met?! Why?! Why stand up for a small bot who has nothing to do with you!” Megatron feels a familiar pang of guilt in his spark for some reason. The words sounded familiar… Megatron: “Ophelia is far from a little bot as you put it. And I guarantee you a bot worthy of her title on this ship.” Random bot: “You seriously don’t know?” Whirl’s optic shrinks. Random bot: “Your little friend is actually—” Whirl: “AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” WHAM! The bot was now getting beaten to a pulp. Later in the medbay… Ratchet was tending to Whirl’s injured claw. Magnus enters the medbay. Whirl: “Listen Magnus, I’ll cut to the chase. Yes, I beat the sorry sod into a pulp. No, I don’t regret it. And I would do it again.” Magnus looks at Ratchet. Ratchet: “The bot was going to tell Megatron about Ophelia’s… situation.” Magnus widens his optics a bit. Magnus: “I see…” He turns to Whirl. Magnus: “Report to my office when you are treated. I will give you the data pads you will need to distribute for the day.” Whirl looked at him confused. Whirl: “No brig time? Who are you and what have you done with Ultra Magnus.” Magnus: “You were protecting a vulnerable crewmate. While there were OTHER ways to deal with the situation… what you did helped Ophelia.” Magnus leaves the room. Whirl: “…I think that was a thank you.” Ratchet: “It was.”

Ophelia, while she was not happy that Whirl got hurt because of her, was also extremely thankful for the copter.

Deep down she was going to have to confront her father about... everything that had happened between them.

Rung was going to have a field day with that.

Whether it be on her terms or in a forced situation.

The best-case scenario, Megatron forgot he had a sparkling.

A scenario that flushed down the drain when she accidentally overheard Megatron mention Terminus.

Oh, Primus give her strength… this was not going to end well…

This is how Whirl punched the random bot before going in for the true beating.

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

Let's talk about Daemon Targaryen and his resentment of Rhea Royce and their marriage

*gif by @emilykaldwen (who is so brave for watching me scream about this)

I think so many people are happy to tie it all up neatly with a bow that says "he hated her because she wasn't a Targaryen and Daemon is a racist/blood purist." There is no question that Daemon is a very proud Targaryen, and that the Targaryens (and Velaryons, to a seemingly lesser degree) are blood purists, but to reduce Daemon down to this single fact is, in my unhumble opinion, incredibly lazy, and erases some of the more obvious and interesting things that I see frequently getting overlooked when it comes to his marriage with Rhea.

Daemon was knighted at 16 and basically immediately, Alysanne had arranged a marriage to Rhea Royce of Runestone. I would say, in part, it was because they were trusted vassal lords and that any children Daemon had with Rhea would have something to inherit due to his status as a second son (which we know is a major problem with the Targaryens, who had no plans for any kid that’s not inheriting the throne). But there is the flip side of that coin - Jaehaerys' I and Alysanne's child were dropping like flies, and it's made clear in the text that Daemon was more the Targaryen ideal than Viserys was, taking after their mother, Alyssa. "Maester Yandel said he was dashing, daring, and dangerous, but mercurial and quick to take offense. Archmaester Gyldayn wrote that Daemon was ambitious, impetuous, and moody, as charming as he was hot-tempered." He was strong. He was handsome. He was skilled with a sword and held in highish esteem for these things. And by this point, he was third in line for the throne (as Rhaenyra was a) a girl and b) an infant). And if we choose to follow the idea that Alysanne would attempt to have Rhaenys reinstated as heir, removing power and influence from other male Targaryens makes sense.

So he was essentially dragged into this marriage by his grandmother as a stop gap to any power or influence that he might attain being so close to the throne, when he was still a child (yes, I know 16 is considered adulthood in Westeros, but let's take a minute to remember the hormone soup our brains are at 16), and much like women of the time, was used as a way to shore up alliance/allegiance/military backing (let's ignore that the Vale was already locked into an alliance due to Aemma's marriage to Viserys). Daemon very solidly fits the “sold bride” trope that we see so much in ASOIAF (Sansa, Dany, etc). Now add into that the weird and fucked up incest bits and the Valyrian/Targaryen idea that if he had been a daughter, he would have been married to Viserys and not shipped off. He would not have been abandoned in this way had he been a daughter; his place within his family would have been secured, untouchable. He would not be alone.

So a beloved and revered member of their family ships him off to a strange place with zero Valyrian culture, which he had spent his entire life surrounded by and proud to be a part of, always told that Targaryens are closer to gods than men, to be the Lord Consort to a girl that he had never met, who seemed to feel the same disdain toward him that he later showed toward her. Within this universe, we see so many meta posts and fics where women/girls are forced into marriages they didn't want and the rightful resentment and anger that grows there, and we don't fault them for it. Why are we suddenly faulting Daemon for that same thing? At this point in his life, the guy is basically any other child bride, forced to consummate a marriage against his will in a strange place, removed entirely from his family.

Now this isn't to say that an idiot, angry, petulant 16 year old boy missed the big picture. With Caraxes at his side and any potential children inheriting Runestone, he could have absolutely taken Runestone and the Vale (which may have been what Alysanne intended). But he is an idiot, angry, petulant 16 year old boy who has been ripped from everything he knows, everyone he loves, and dumped into what he considers some backwater town and he's not fucking having it. Which says a lot about who he is. We see in both the show and the book that Daemon is fiercely loyal to House Targaryen, to his family, to the blood of the dragon. He craves that closeness, that proximity to them. Daemon is a lot of things, good and bad, and as GRRM likes to say, "an equal mix of dark and light."

The Dance of Dragons isn't just the house of the dragon tearing themselves apart, but a continuation of the stupidity and inaction of Jaehaerys I by Viserys. Everyone was let down by these men, and it resulted in the beginning of the end for their empire (we can dive into Valyrian/Targaryen supremacy another time). Daemon and Aemma were the start of it, the first of Viserys' victims. Then Rhaenyra and Alicent, Aegon and Helaena and Aemond and Daeron.

They failed everyone around them - Jaehaerys in his inaction in choosing a female heir under the appearances of keeping the realm placated and not disturbing the inherent misogyny of the lords of the realm, and Viserys for choosing not to understand his younger brother's emotional suffering nor protecting his daughter after he undid the tradition of male primogeniture for the Iron Throne (tradition, not law) and again when he didn't have oaths re-sworn to her after Aegon's birth and not codifying absolute primogeniture. 

As for Daemon, morally gray characters aren't for everyone, even as much as we like to pretend they are. And that's what Daemon is - he is, at his core, incredibly morally gray. There is nuance there, and it's important. You don't have to like every character. But you can at least try to have a base understanding of the nuance that makes them them, and not be lazy about it.

[chrysanthemum9484]

DpXDc au where Danny by luck be it good or bad becomes the city spirit of Gotham.

He can leave the city and all but it hurts him due to unbelievable levels of homesickness. Being near the bats whenever he leaves helps a bit.

The bats and birds inherit some abilities which help with stealth, some slight increase in physical prowess, slight gliding and immortality level of healing factor in Gotham. Thankfully Constantine notices and explains it.

Danny always knows everything about Gotham. From people's personal history to their location and current activities.

Gotham is beyond cursed but what the bats are doing weakens the curses bit by bit. They are still a burden though.

Danny has conned the conman Constantine himself into keeping an eye on the curses too and to try remove any of them completely once they feel weak enough. No the bats and birds don't know. Yes they are beyond confused once the Joker out of the blue turns sane and gets put on death row.

Alfred somehow gets cursed into immorality and no one is touching that curse.

Unemployment percentage lowers and lowers slowly but steadily and at some point the batfam have no more goons and loons to fight. Red Hood's goons are registered as employed the very moment they get downgraded to street kid babysitters and worker ladies bodyguards because suddenly there are no more drugs shipped in Gotham.

So out of boredom the batfam annoyed Poison Ivy into creating a forest around half of Gotham, and a fruit and vegetable garden around the other half of Gotham and the most beautiful botanical garden in the center of Gotham.

That leads to lessening pollution, food prices and crime rate being half of what it used to be.

At this point the batfam are annoying their villains to find more legal ways to do what they want to do out of pure boredom. After all there is one theft tried a month at most, the villains have no goons, the Joker is dead and Ivy and Harley are happily tending to lord knows how many acres of land, there are no drug deals to take down, kids and ladies are safer than ever in Gotham and Tim is getting to sleep for 4 hours a day!

The bats create a show for the Riddler to host. He gets to ask all of his riddles and people are actually engaged and enjoying themselves!

Suddenly Red Robin invades Mr. Freeze's Lab, muttering about getting too much sleep and starts working on making a serum to save Nora Fries. And all Mr. Freeze can do is watch and wonder if Red Robin has lost his marbles as he effortlessly heals his wife.

Waylon Jones says 'fuck it' and joins Ivy and Harley and the gothamites slowly start treating him like a person.

Black mask hisses like a cat and leaves permanently with Danny chasing him out with an ecto-broom.

Danny helps Harvey Dent find healthier copying mechanisms.

Scarecrow moves to Amity Park and sets up shop there. Enough said.

And so on and so on.

Eventually Gotham becomes a gothic sunshine city and the batfam are bored to death aside from superhero club Things and Tim is complaining about having a regular human sleep schedule.

Danny is a happy little noodle man due to lack of curses weighting on him.

[muffinlance]

I saw your “Zuko brings home two dragons and becomes fire lord” story (it was awesome :3). But what if Zuko got hurt somehow and the dragons went apeshit. (Cause they’re friends right?)

(Continued from this prompt.)

Hakoda’s fleet set sail six months ago. Fire Lord Ozai was assassinated in the middle of his own war council, by his own son, two months ago. The Earth Kingdom contacted Hakoda three weeks ago, with the proposal for a joint operation.

The new Fire Lord is traveling his lands, securing allies—rooting out opposition—in the wake of his regicide. A source close to his inner council, one concerned by violence uncommon even by the standards of Fire Nation nobility, leaked his travel schedule. Much of it is by sea.

They skirt the blockade to the South, between shifting glaciers. They work their way north, flying merchant flags. They strike at night. The deck crew is easily overtaken. Understaffed, even. Suspiciously so. But if this is a trap, it’s one they’ve already sprung. And if this is the work of the same traitor that sent them the prince’s schedule and ship plans, then Hakoda won’t waste the opportunity.

“Wait,” he whispers, as Bato catches a startled servant from behind. The kid is young. In his nightclothes. Freshly scarred by his nation’s own fire, in a way that doesn’t say good things about why a young child would be coming out of the Fire Lord’s own cabin in the middle of the night. Wide gold eyes stare at Hakoda over the top of Bato’s muffling hand. 

“Son of a—” hisses Bato, as quietly as a man can, when a child has just bitten his hand. The kid keeps struggling as Bato pins him against a wall. Hakoda shoves the Fire Lord’s door open, and—

Is greeted by an empty cabin, with mussed sheets, still warm from their occupant’s departure.

Hakoda steps back into the passageway, and crouches down to the kid’s eye level. “Easy; we aren’t here to hurt you. Where’s the Fire Lord?”

The kid glowers at him. “Did General Bujing hire you?” 

Footsteps down the companionway herald a much different general’s arrival. “That would be telling,” says Fong. “Excellent work, Chief. We’ll take it from here.”

…Facts click into place, and Hakoda does not like what he’s left with.

The kid is the Fire Lord. 

The Fire Lord is barely thirteen.

And Hakoda is realizing how much of their intelligence on the monstrous patricidal new Fire Lord came through Earth Kingdom channels, and how many details Fong did not find pertinent for the Water Tribe’s easily recruited Chief to know. 

“I think we can keep one kid contained on our ship,” says Bato, who also saw the cell General Fong had specially prepared. It had seemed a reasonable cruelty, at the time.

“I’ll bite you again,” growls the Fire Nation’s tiniest despot, not helping.

There’s a tense moment as Hakoda’s men, finished securing the ship, gather around him. Just as Fong’s men are gathering around him.

“Very well,” the general concedes, with a smile Hakoda no longer finds affable.

* * *

The new Fire Lord is a man of his word: he does, indeed, bite Bato again.

* * *

It’s dawn on deck. They hurry the prince off his own ship, partially to get away from Fong, and partially to move the boy past his dead countrymen as quickly as possible. The kid’s face had been—

Hakoda had not expected to find the new Fire Lord so young. But it’s even more of a surprise, somehow, to find that the new Fire Lord cares. Not all of the kid’s crew are dead. And it wasn’t the plan, but… Hakoda orders them left that way. Sends his own healer over to save as many as possible. 

“You didn’t use your fire against us,” Hakoda comments, as they stand on his own ship. Fire Lord Zuko’s eyes are fixed on the triage happening on the next deck over. But he takes a moment to look up at Hakoda, and finds a shade even paler than white to turn. 

The healing burn over his own face was a partial answer. The look on his face gives Hakoda the rest. 

“Good,” Hakoda says, even though the kid hasn’t said anything. “Fire shouldn’t be turned on people.”

“Fire is life,” the boy says quietly, in some kind of agreement. He turns back to watching his crew, his people. Those of them that can be saved. 

Hakoda knows that feeling. Has stood that watch. 

It’s dawn, so a streak of red in the sky can go unnoticed for quite some time. Blue as well, as the morning’s colors fade. Until both are rather too close to be ignored. 

Exclamations spread among the crew. He can hear them from Fong’s ship, as well. But it’s the cheering on the Fire Lord’s ship that sends the first chill down his spine. 

The new Fire Lord is barely thirteen. And he hasn’t been scared at all during this; not for himself. 

Hakoda realizes again just how little he knows about the new Fire Lord, just in time for two dragons to land. The blue one dives into the water. It barely makes a splash, but the force of water its titanic body displaces sends his ship lurching under his feet. It surfaces again, the great coils of its body wrapped around all three ships. It’s like something from a drunken sailor’s yarn about sea serpents; the kind that shouldn’t have left any witnesses alive to tell the tale.

The red one lands almost daintily, its four feet touching down on the only ship it doesn’t care about sinking, like a polar bear-ferret perched on a too-small rock. The rails of General Fong’s ship are forced down nearly to the waterline, his crew scattering and shouting. 

Two heads the size of a god’s dreaming loom over Hakoda’s deck.

The boy next to him huffs. “I’m fine,” he says. And then he looks up at Hakoda, with that same confidence he’s had, even when he was tackled by strange men in the darkness of his own ship. 

“The war is over,” says the burned child, with the force of two ancient dragons behind him. “We should negotiate.”

…Hakoda negotiates.

(Read more prompts || Longer ATLA fics || Original works)