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deadmenandthedivine · 1 year

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DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter seven: the fate of wagging tongues

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 5746

“May I present Princess Maetilda Targaryen, first of her name, Lady of Runestone. Daughter to Prince Daemon Targaryen and his late wife Lady Rhea Royce!”

There were more people gathered in the Throne Room of the Red Keep than she had ever seen gathered at Dragonstone, outside of tourneys. The crowd was similar in size to that of her late stepmother’s funeral. Oh, the delightful spectacle that was her family’s fate. The logic of it was painfully reasonable. Of course the Realm would care to know. The state of her family was thought to reflect the state of the kingdom. What troubled the Crown, troubled its people. A healthy royal family was more likely to bring forth a thriving realm. Reversely, every little argument or skirmish was the omen of their collective downfall. Nothing could ever just be what it was. Especially the Hearing. It was not simply the settling of an inheritance; it would also set a precedent. If Lucerys’s inheritance was ruled illegitimate, so too could his mother’s. Maetilda’s mind struggled to imagine what would happen without the favor of such precedent, but she knew the entire conclusion would be disastrous. She had entered the hall alone, and was announced on her own. She bore a title that her brothers did not. She held an inheritance that no one disputed, no one questioned. One that even the Arryns of the Eyrie backed. Their house and that of her mother had been respectful rivals for generations, constantly waged in honorable competition. They were the far less vitriolic Blackwoods and Brackens. The Royces of Runestone had knelt to the Arryns of the Eyrie at the end of the Era of the Bronze Kings. All because one Keep was easier to defend than the other. Yet they all knew who held more power. An older branch of the Royce family held the Keep of the Arryn’s winter home. Surnames of Royce could be found all throughout the Vale. Their blood ran deeper than any ocean or valley. Lady Rhea had been loved and respected, and thus her only child was too. If only the same treatment could have been extended toward the girl’s step brothers. Ser Laenor himself had loved the boys, and treated them as his own. No matter what the whispers had said.

The princess descended the front steps alone, just as she had entered, with no man on her arm to accompany her. It was a symbol of strength. A calculated move that her father had dictated long ago. It would especially help that day. Without his daughter’s own strength in legitimacy, his wife would have even less of a leg to stand on. While Rhaenyra had the King’s word, the King no longer sat present at court. Instead his prudent and pious wife and her shrewd Hightower father took his place. The two of them stared down over the court with owlish eyes, watching every move. Ser Otto stood higher up the steps than his only daughter, ready to sit when the proceeding began. Indistinct whispering filled the room as Maetilda made her way over to the side of the room where her father and stepmother stood. Eyes watched her steps for any sign of falter. Lucerys stood towards the front, next to his mother, in full view of the court. He tried to hide his nerves, but the princess could tell by the shifting of his weight from leg to leg that he was ready to run at a moment’s notice. Jacaerys stood next to her father. He was more impassioned than anxious. His shoulders rolled back in an honorable and confident manner. He looked dignified and respectful. Firm and just. Just as the heir’s heir should. Both princes were dressed similarly in red and black. Dragons decorated their surcoats, collars, and jewelry. The princess’s attire fit in well with theirs. Maetilda assumed the small spot next to Jace. Ser Gunthor flanked behind her in his full bronze armor regalia.

With a scan of the room, the princess quickly determined that they were all waiting on her cousin, Princess Rhaenys. The Queen that Never Was never seemed to miss an opportunity to make an entrance. She had no problem with making the Court wait. It was a quality, among many others, that the princess had always admired in her older cousin — her confidence, her poise, her style, her discernment, her cunning. Even when all of Court was waiting on her, the princess-by-title felt nothing but awe towards the woman. The day before, Maetilda had noticed in the brief moments she saw the three just how much Rhaenys’ likeness had rubbed off on Baela and Rhaena. They had each followed on Rhaenys’ sides like Laena-esque clones. Even down to the way that they walked, the twins replicated each aspect of Rhaenys. The princess-by-title’s twin sisters had been raised by their royal grandmother ever since Lady Laena’s funeral, while Maetilda was kept on a ball-and-chain close by her father at all times. She often wondered what her life would have been like if Princess Rhaenys had taken her in too, but those were only privy dreams. The princess-by-title anxiously turned her head to look at her sworn knight behind her. It comforted her to know that no matter what, she would always have her friend at her side. Even when her family wasn’t, her knights were. When her eyes caught a glimpse of Ser Gunthor and his beautiful protection rune-covered armor, the knight had already seemed to have his eyes focused on something. He was looking just beyond her, straight over her head. She followed his eye, turning back around to find Prince Aemond staring back at them from his place with his mother and siblings on the high steps. The sight caused her to jump in surprise, not expecting it. Her cheeks heated up as she caught the attention of Jace who leaned toward her.

“Did you just spook?” He whispered as he held back laughter.

“Like a bloody horse.” She joked.

The prince laughed at his step sister’s expense before turning to his mother and stepfather. The two were whispering to each other off in their own world, and it was clear he wanted to know what they were saying. He did not spare his step sister another glance. Something she was thankful for, no more attention drawn her way. Prince Aemond’s gaze was unrelenting. It had not budged. Nervously, she glanced back at her knight. He had not moved, his stare had not broken either. For a moment, she wondered if the two had simply been innocently staring at each other, but she knew better than that. None of her knights had ever shown interest in pissing contests, certainly not one with the King’s second son. It was something she had always appreciated. They had always been more concerned about each individual hair on her head than how their names appeared on the tourney lists. Yet in that moment, her gut could not determine who had started the stand off. It told her the culprit could not have been her knight, but she also could not understand why the prince would have cared to stare otherwise. Had Ser Gunthor overheard something that had angered him? Her mind raced with possibilities. A small part of her worried for the worst. Perhaps the Hightowers had forgotten themselves completely and he overheard them question her. Her name, her title, her inheritance. She would be beyond naive to think the green-clad family would avoid stooping so low. From the very state of the castle, they had already proved they were not above treason. Deciding that whatever the reason may be, she would agree with her knight, the princess turned back toward her cousin and glared back at him. She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders for good measure. She watched as his interest visibly peaked at her actions. He even had the audacity to smirk. As if by some miracle, the doors to the Throne Room opened behind them all. It gave her the perfect excuse to break their trance.

“I present Princess Rhaenys Targaryen of Driftmark, wife to Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark and Ser Lord of the Tides. She is accompanied by her granddaughters, Ladies Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, daughters to Prince Daemon Targaryen and late Lady Laena Velaryon.”

The princess’s sisters and their grandmother were beyond elegant; they were ethereal and imposing. They took the breath away from the entire room as they descended the steps and took their place behind Rhaenys’s late brother-in-law’s son, Ser Vaemond Velaryon. Gazes lingered on the three, including that of Maetilda’s, even after they had ceased walking. She wanted nothing more than to be like them, to be one of them. It was even harder to quell such feelings when she saw them together. Like watching a life she could have had play out in front of her eyes. A throat at the front of the hall loudly and pointedly cleared all obstructions in order to gain the room’s attention. Careful not to catch the prince’s eye again, Maetilda snapped her focus onto the Hightower as she turned.

“Though it is the hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.” Ser Otto began, his voice echoed across the hall from his position in front of her Uncle’s throne, “As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.”

With finality, he sat his pompous posterior on the chair of a thousand swords, “The Crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Lord Vaemond was a proud man. She could tell by the glance he threw in her stepbrothers’ direction before he stepped forward before the court. His steps were slow and deliberate as they, too, echoed. His silver locks were pulled away from his face and he donned the ocean green colors of his house. He looked every bit the part of Lord of Driftmark. Perhaps Lucerys should have worn Velaryon colors too. Although she wondered if such a frivolous distinction would truly bring about a better outcome.

“My Queen,” The son of the second son bowed his head to Alicent before doing the same toward the Throne, “My Lord Hand.”

An uneasy air filled the room in the moment of his pause. He was relishing in his moment, smugly confident. He held his arms behind his back as if he were ready for any challenge. His chin was pointed straight into the air as if her entire family sat below it. Something in her gut told Maetilda that he seemed too confident. Wondering if she had been reading the man wrong or over thinking matters, she spared a glance toward her family to gauge their reactions. She spotted her father’s sharp stance and hawk-like eyes immediately. It was clear that he was feeling similarly, which was slightly comforting. It was even better to see his anger directed at someone that was not her after the morning they had.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas.” His speech began, “When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that if they were to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name.”

As Vaemond spoke, the princess let her eyes move away from her family and about the room. From the looks spread across various faces, his words were resonating loud and clear. They seemed to hang onto his every word, cogs turning his sentences over in their heads. It was clear they held many meanings, both innocent and blasphemous. Her blood warmed at the thought of what he would say next. The faces of Court did not help to calm her. Before she could stop the thought from physically moving her muscles, she quickly glanced back at Aemond. His eye still had not moved. It seemed to have been fixed on her the entire time. An intense, unreadable stare.

The son of the second son fixed his surcoat before continuing with more diction, “I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my uncle’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood.”

Jace’s body stiffened next to her. She could see Lucerys do the same beside his mother out of the corner of her eye. Had the King been present, the knight would have been treading on thin ice. But the King was not present. Those with the deciding vote shared in the knight’s sentiments. Her family had yet to shake the nest, yet the wasps swarmed regardless. The little green wasps had begun to bite and sting, yet she knew the worst was to come. Aemond only smirked at the son of the second son’s implications. Their eyes remained locked together as the princess stewed. Of course, Aemond had made his own stance on the matters clear the night that Lucerys had taken his eye. He had used the treasonous slur and was questioned by the King in front of everyone. Yet, there a man with lesser standing stood and hurled the same venom — unharmed and likely to be rewarded. It must have felt gratifying for him. Knotting her hands behind her back, she sent Aemond a pointed glare before glancing back at her knight. Ser Gunthor stood as steadfast as always, eyes still pointed directly at the prince. She hoped that he had at least blinked. By the looks of him, she could not be sure.

“The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.” Lord Vaemond stole her focus and attention back onto himself.

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” Rhaenyra remarked, audibly rolling her eyes, “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambitions.”

“You will have your chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard,” Alicent interjected firmly.

Not good. The green-clad peacocks would most certainly accuse Rhaenyra of hysterics if she continued with outbursts. They would claim she lacked foresight or patience. That was all they needed as proof. It would be all too convenient for them. As if to make her point, the son of the second son spun defiantly on his heel to face the King’s heir. Rhaenyra kept her gaze held forward at the Throne, not sparing a glance in the cocky man’s direction. Such attention would have only encouraged him.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

To punctuate his statement, he gave Lucerys a hard glance before turning back to face the Hightowers perched on the high steps, “My Queen, My Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my uncle’s successor, The Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.” Ser Otto smiled curtly from the Throne.

The entire hall was silent aside from the footsteps of the proud knight returning to his spot in front of Princess Rhaenys. The weight of his words took time to be fully realized. He had truly implied treason in front of the King’s heir, the Hand, the Queen, and all of Court. He had done so with his full chest with no hesitation or remorse. Not one person voiced a complaint, aside from Rhaenyra herself. The Queen had defended his right to speak. For a moment, Maetilda had wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. But of course, she locked eyes with her cousin once more. His brow was furrowed in concentration, only to rise in challenge when she looked at him. He was smug, he stood comfortably. Relaxed back with a majority of his weight on one of his legs. His arms were held behind his back. She wanted to slap the look off of his face, take her anger and uncertainty out on him. She wondered if he could sense it, her bloodthirsty rage. His face was getting harder and harder for her to read, more difficult than any book. Once again, she glanced back at her knight for reassurance. Was he seeing what she was? Did he know the castle well enough to smuggle her out if need be? He had his hand on the hilt of his sword. If any of the Kingsguard noticed, they could start an avalanche. She felt as if she were trapped inside a cauldron over a fire. The temperature would only grow hotter if she did not get out.

The second son on the chair of a thousand swords savored his next words. He rolled them around in his mouth with a proud smirk before he smugly granted, “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

The princess-by-title felt no more comfortable as the Realm’s Delight took her own confident and defiant steps forward. Her moniker almost seemed to serve as a mockery in that very moment. All of the Realm seemed to look down upon her like the statues of the Seven that towered to the ceilings of the hall. Her hands were fidgety like Lucerys’s, despite how much she tried to keep an air of authority. Maetilda admired her stepmother. If nothing else, she was an incredibly brave and resilient woman. She killed boars, rode dragons, challenged the word of arrogant lords, endured many deaths of those close to her, and had even jumped in front of a valyrian steel dagger wielded by the Queen. She was much more than simply a delight. She was a force to be reckoned with. However, the world had been flipped on its head. The Heir seemed pathetically powerless in comparison to the Hightowers on the high steps. Her hands were tied. Despite the strength he brought in spades, all her husband behind her could do was stand menacingly and glare. Maetilda’s hair on her arms and neck stood on edge as she put the pieces together in her mind. All they seemed to have was names and looks and words, no bite to accompany their bark. While they were at Dragonstone, they had been leashed. Without any sort of warning. If the Hightowers truly had already made up their mind, there was nothing Rhaenyra could say or do.

Her own proclamation started off in an exasperated tone, “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very—“ Her words fell into nothing as the sound of the Great Hall’s doors squeaking open echoed above her.

The room simultaneously turned to the entrance, curious as to who would have the audacity to interrupt so late into their assembly. Tiredly bent in the center of the doorway stood the King. In all his grandeur. Maetilda’s heart skipped a beat before she dared to rub her right eye in order to assure she was not seeing anymore figures.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” The page proudly announced.

The walking stick echoed about the room as His Grace made his dignified entrance. The entire room held their breath in awe before respectfully bowing their heads in greeting. Slowly but steadily, King Viserys limped down the steps and across the hall. His breath and pace were labored. His limbs shook from strain. His robe struggled to stay in place atop his frail, haggard shoulders. But he had never looked more strong, more kingly. The fires around the hall burned brighter as his presence blew a breath of life about the room. Maetilda stood straighter than she ever had before. She could not help the victorious grin that had spread across her face. The tables had turned. Rhaenyra’s words would no longer fall on closed ears. The King was there. Ser Otto descended from his unrighteous place to make way. His Grace huffed and puffed as he approached. Maetilda could have sworn she saw the Hightower tremble with fear. It filled her with the utmost pride.

“I will sit the throne today.” The King triumphantly declared.

“Your Grace,” Otto nodded.

Without another word, King Viserys began to climb the last set of stairs. He took to the first steps uneasily, stumbling back a bit. One of his Kingsguard rushed forward to assist him only to be exasperatedly shook off. The King’s niece had full confidence in him. He had made it all the way through the Red Keep already. The last steps would be the most familiar ones. Just as she knew he would, his Grace took each step at a time. But it was clear that the all-too-familiar steps seemed to be the hardest as his momentum was wearing thin. He hunched farther and farther over his walking stick as he relied on it to pull his body upward. Seeing him just turn down the knight, her feet felt planted in their spot. Internally, she prayed to the gods that had sent the black cloak away. She begged them to carry him up to his rightful place for all of the Court to see him. As if in direct answer, her father emerged forward. The rest of the hall seemed to be just as frozen as the princess. No Kingsguard reacted as he ascended the steps. The sound of metal clanking echoed from the front of the hall and up into the rafters, but the source was obscured by her father’s figure. As soon as he reached the King, the Rogue Prince gathered him before taking on a majority of his weight. The brothers finished the last steps together. The younger sat his elder in his rightful place and ceremoniously sat the displaced crown back onto Viserys’s head. With the most respect she had ever seen her father give someone, he bowed to the King before returning to the place he had previously occupied. The princess could have sworn she was still dreaming in her bed. Perhaps she had fallen asleep at breakfast. The King’s chest rose and fell with great effort as he sat up to begin speaking.

“I must… admit… my confusion.” He stated, “I do not understand why petitions are being held over a settled succession.”

The entire room shifted.

“The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

The eyes around the hall were suddenly all on the Queen Who Never Was. She seemed hardly phased by them all. As if not a single one held any significance to her. She looked at no one, but her cousin. No other person was worthy of her knowledge or her gaze. It made one want to look at her all the more. Her presence was mesmerizing.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” She smirked before stepping forward.

Like a crane moving through water, she took soft, calculated strides to the front. Much like her husband’s nephew, Princess Rhaenys savored her moment. She assured that she had each and every ear and eye before she began, “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true-born son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

At her words, the entire hall lurched back in whispers and gasps. It should have been the reactions they had to Vaemond’s insults. Instead, it was in reaction to the King’s own will. Such a display nauseated the princess-by-title. The Kingdom truly had been turned on its head. But Rhaenys was not done.

“His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

The Court had lurched back in shock before, but they completely dissolved into hysterics after that. The lords and ladies around the room tried pathetically to keep their voices at a hush as they gossiped into each others’ ears. It was a watertight proposal, two watertight proposals. They politically sealed much of Rhaenyra and her brothers’ claim. Their only other problems would be Aegon, his two small boys, and Aemond. But they were a bridge to be crossed upon arrival. The entire hall seemed to be buzzing, yet the princess-by-title remained frozen in place. Maetilda felt like the floor had been pulled out from underneath her. All of her siblings of age had been betrothed in one fell swoop. She was happy for them, happy for what their marriages meant, but she was utterly terrified of what it meant for her. The last one left, the least desirable, the spinster. Her father had hated Runestone and everything about it, reminded her frequently. Perhaps no one wanted Runestone. Or worse, did not find the castle worth putting up with her. There had to be a deeper explanation. Her father allowed for his two other daughters to be engaged, both of them. But not her. She also felt guilty for thinking of herself in such a moment. A moment where she should have been congratulating her four siblings. Instead, she was thinking of herself and why her father did not love her like he loved her sisters. He had always spent more time with them, wrote more letters to them, and bought them more presents. She scolded herself for not seeing it coming sooner. Yet something about the entire arrangement felt too calculated. Like an internal pull she could not shake, her gut twisted with suspicion. Something wasn’t right. It did not feel right. Suddenly becoming aware of the dryness in her eyes, she blinked back out of her head. The King was wheezing as he spoke. He was listing off the titles that Corlys currently bore, likely proclaiming Lucerys to be the inheritor of them. She was not sure how long he had been speaking for, but the hall was eerily silent. Feeling an itch on her nose, she peaked at Aemond out of the corner of her eye to see if he had been watching her drown in her inner turmoil. He had been.

“You break law…” Vaemond stepped forward again with a menacing passion, “and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who desires to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

Once again, the entire room shifted. Was he mad? He was undoubtedly furious, but he had to have lost his head. After double checking that her knight was still located diligently behind her, the princess-by-title gawked at the son of late Lord Corwyn’s second son with an open mouth. It was like she could see the sword fight about to break out in front of her. Shoulders tensed, hands moved to hilts. The cauldron over the fire that they were all trapped in was about to boil over.

“Allow it?” The King dared, “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Vaemond stared at him blankly before shortly pivoting with an accusatory finger pointed at the boys, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra pushed her sons toward the doors before turning to the proud man, “You have said enough.”

The boys fell back, but moved no farther away. They were not children anymore. They would not run and hide at their mother’s command as they used to. Rather, they stood behind each side of her as she turned back to Ser Vaemond, ready to fight him with her bare hands alone. Her breath was heavy and uneven. Her fists shook with barely contained rage. She opened her mouth to spit insults back, only for her beloved father to start speaking in her place.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… no more than a second son of Driftmark.” The King reminded him.

“You… may run your house how you see fit… But you will not decide the future of mine.” Vaemond seethed, “My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. Gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this—“

He was smart enough to hold his tongue from speaking any farther. The air of the hall felt so hot and thick, it was as if it were on fire. And like a burning fire, the princess could not look away. She stared wide eyed in hardly masked horror. Her gut screamed for her to run. Whatever happened next would not be good. But she could not move, it would be inappropriate of her. All she could do was watch.

“Say it.” Her father smiled a soft alligator grin.

“BASTARDS! The lot of them!” Vaemond bellowed.

Hot silence permeated the room as the Velaryon decided to throw all further caution to the wind while he gestured toward the future Queen, “And she… she is a whore!”

Gusts of wind blew through the windows. Rats squeaked and scurried through the walls. Servants tip toed about their responsibilities. It was so silent, one could hear all the other activity happening around the Keep. In the expanse of the Great Hall, not a single being or creature moved a muscle. Most held their breath. At the front of the room, from on top of his throne, the King’s chest heaved. With all the strength that he could muster, he unsheathed the dagger from his side and stood on shaky legs. It was as if Aegon the Conqueror had possessed his great great grandson himself. Pure fire poured from out of his eyes. His ears smoked. He fought to catch his breath amidst his emotions.

“I… will have… your tongue for that.”

Before the King could even enunciate his last word, Vaemond Velaryon’s head was sliced in two — right down the corners of his mouth. The top slid off the bottom. His legs remained standing in the seconds his muscles still held strength. Maetilda’s heart stopped as she watched the man’s body hit the floor, wincing with each individual splat. The sound of it echoed off of the walls. The hall remained silent. What a quick and final conclusion. There was no longer a matter to be settled. All arguments had turned into puddles on the floor. Wiping any blood or other bits off of the beautiful blade of Dark Sister and onto his pristine black surcoat, her father stood proudly at the dead man’s feet. His kill.

“He can keep his tongue.”

“Disarm him!” The commander of the Kingsguard declared after processing the moment. His subordinates unsheathed their weapons and pointed them at the King’s brother.

“No need.” As nonchalantly and unapologetically as a cat in the sun, Daemon stepped back and sheathed his sword.

Maetilda could not peel her eyes away from it. Sounds of the King’s groaning and the Queen calling for maesters were muffled in her ears as her senses numbed to hone in on sight alone. She had never seen inside one’s skull before. She had seen blood and entrails before, always at a distance from her place in the royal box at tourneys. She had seen the mangled flesh of Aemond’s eye socket as the Maester at Driftmark sewed it shut with careful hands. She had seen her stepmothers’ multiple childbirths including the passing of the afterbirth. Yet never before had her eyes gazed upon that which belonged inside someone’s head. She could have sworn it was still moving and twitching — thinking. The pink and dark red muscles and nerve endings that were once tightly coiled together started to sag out of place from where they once were. There was so much blood. It leaked like a water vase full of hairline cracks. The man’s body that was once so full of life and anger and passion was left limp and sagging and motionless on the Throne Room floor.

The same shoes that once stood at the dead man’s feet began to move towards her, careful, quick steps. It sent her heart into a panicked race. She was next. It was her turn to pay the price. It was her fault. She had disobeyed orders and now the man was dead. She could already hear the words coming. Her own shoes backed away in the direction of her knight. She hoped and prayed that he had remained to protect her. Her eyes lost focus as the blurry figure moved forward. The breaths in her chest scratched at her throat as it tightened. She needed to run, she needed to get out. Her blood pumped quicker as her limbs itched for movement. She should fight back. The blurry figure halted suddenly, she did the same. The blob’s shoulders bounced with angry breaths. Her breathing only got harder. Desperately, the princess clutched at the stays covering her chest. Where was Ser Gunthor? Why wasn’t he coming to her aide? The figure attempted a second approach, but she evaded it once again. She put more space between them this time, backing up until her back hit that of another person. Forgetting her manners, where or who she was, the princess did not turn to apologize. Instead her gaze focused on the black leather shoes. Not knowing how to fight back, she shook her head ‘no.’ Fear, relief, confusion, panic, despair, paranoia, a confusing conglomerate of it all. She wondered if that’s what Vaemond was feeling before he had died. She wondered if he looked down upon them then. If he floated idly over the scene while he waited for the Stranger to come and take him. If he knew what was to happen to him, would he have still spoke the words he did? Would he have expressed remorse at a trial? Were his words truly worthy of death? What crime could ever be worthy of such a sentence?

A/N: This is the longest chapter I’ve written so far!! (there are some even longer ones locked in the arsenal) This is also the first chapter that’s majorly based on one of the scenes from the show. You like?????

oh and also, I may or may not talk up the importance of House Royce for my own convenience, let’s all just enjoy this ride together 0:)

xoxo messy

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farity · 1 year

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Let’s Pretend, part 8

“This is disgusting.”

Aegon threw back the contents of the cup the maester had given him, swallowed, and pushed the empty back back at the man.

“Your Highness,” the maester nodded and left the dining hall without another word.

Helaena looked at you and widened her eyes, trying to hide a smile. Aegon had not touched a drop of wine in the last three days, instead taking small doses of milk of the poppy for his ensuing headaches and drinking various concoctions to “cleanse the system” according to the new maester.

“I fucking hate this,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t fucking laugh at me, Hel.”

“I am not.”

“You fucking are. You all fucking are. I am going to see the fucking children, and get the fuck away from you all.” He stomped out just in time to not hear Helaena fail at controlling her laughter.

Ser Otto looked at his daughter. “I see things are going well.”

* * * * *

Lord Corlys had arrived to meet with Aemond, and you had barely seen your husband, his long days taking him from your bed before you awoke and not letting him back until you had fallen asleep. He managed to eke out a few minutes during meals to see you, and you could see he was thriving. No longer ignored and unseen, no longer training simply for his own purpose, or learning for his own needs. He felt useful, his brilliant mind now in service of the realm, and although he was exhausted, you could tell he did not mind, other than missing you.

“I will always be here, Aemond,” you had said, “your father is intent on reshaping the land and is counting on you to help him do so now.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips. “We are nearing the end of the ledgers,” he said, “we will be able to present our plans to my father soon.”

You smiled at him. “I am so proud of you,” you whispered. “Fiercely proud, Aemond.”

“Brother!”

Aemond turned and looked at the young man standing at the end of the hallway. He was young, his silver hair shorter even than Aegon’s, and you looked from him to Aemond.

“Daeron?”

“Why are you so damn tall?” the young man - Prince Daeron - said, before walking towards Aemond and embracing him.

Aemond wrapped his arms around his younger brother. “It is so good to see you, brother.”

The two men pulled back to look at each other’s faces, much changed since the last time they had seen each other.

“Brother, I would like for you to meet my wife.”

You smiled at your new brother, his boyish smile sweet and charming. “Prince Daeron, I am delighted to meet my new brother.”

Daeron kissed your hand, “Princess, it is an honor, you are most-”

“Daeron!!!!”

The young prince barely turned in time before Helaena threw herself at him, nearly knocking you aside.

“My dear, dear Hel,” Daeron murmured as he hugged his sister.

“Aemond.”

You turned to see Lord Corlys, signaling to Aemond that they need to get back to business.

“I will see you at dinner, brother,” Aemond said, and kissed you quickly before heading down the corridor.

You decided to leave Daeron and Helaena to get reacquainted, and went back to your rooms. It was good to see the family coming together, considering how much work there was ahead.

* * * * *

By the time Rhaenyra and Daemon arrived, the mood around the keep had grown tense.

“I see you have found a new way to displace your daughter, brother.”

“I have found a way to keep the realm together, Daemon. Although it seems I can never do the same with the family.”

Rhaenyra walked up to Viserys and kissed his cheek. “I am delighted in your recovery, father,” she said, her voice shaky, her eyes watery.

“I would speak with you first, child,” he said, ignoring his brother, who stood watching as his wife and his brother walked out of the hall.

“There is much to discuss, and I would have you keep your mind open to everything I have to say, for it has been a long time delayed.”

“Father,” Rhaenyra said, linking her arm through Viserys’, “I am here to listen.”

“Good, good.” He led her into his study, closed the door behind them. “Sit, please.”

She took the chair across from him, arranged her skirts while he watched.

“Rhaenyra, you are as stubborn as I. Your dear mother was always willing to sway but you and I,” he shook his head, “we were made differently. Sometimes it serves us well, and sometimes it makes us hold on to ideas that can only harm us in the long run.”

“Father, I would ask you to speak plainly. I have seen, albeit briefly, how things are here, with your other children.”

Viserys looked at the daughter he had favored and defended to the detriment of everything else, and nodded. “Your children, Rhaenyra.”

Her chin went up immediately. “The princes.”

“For a long time it has been law that anyone saying they are bastards will be punished. I did that for you.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, but said nothing.

“And that law will continue. And you will no longer be my heir.”

* * * * *

Daemon opened the door without knocking, and found Aemond and Corlys Velaryon standing over a desk, poring over maps. “What is this?” he asked.

Corlys stiffened, glaring at the man who had murdered his brother, but held his tongue as Aemond quickly drew a large piece of blank parchment over the maps.

“This is not for you to see,” Aemond snapped, staring at his uncle.

“You would determine the fate of an area I know so well,” Daemon scoffed, staring back and Corlys raised an eyebrow.

Aemond said nothing, simply stood and stared silently.

Daemon let out a brief laugh, and turned away, closing the door behind him.

“Let us finish this.”

“He has always acted above the law,” Corlys muttered.

Aemond smirked. “You will find, Lord Corlys, that many things have changed since my father’s recovery.”

The old lord looked at the young prince, and smiled.

* * * * *

“You would do this, to your own grandchildren?”

Viserys sighed, “you protest because you feel slighted, Rhaenyra, but my own children here have been ignored and left adrift for far too long. I clearly cannot make you all happy, but at least I can put some things right.”

Rhaenyra wiped a tear away. “Jace has been raised-”

“amidst lies, child. You know it. I know it. The realm knows it. My own son paid for it by losing an eye and even then I sought no justice for him. Because I loved you, because I wished to defend you and protect you and I see now that it has been for naught, for you would cling to these lies that I have encouraged and believe yourself above the truth.”

He watched her wring her hands in her lap, shake her head. It was truly his fault. His guilt over Aemma’s death had always stained his actions regarding Rhaenyra being the heir. Had twisted his heart away from Alicent and her children. His children.

“I will grant you the dignity of keeping the law in place, although no one shall be heavily punished, and you shall have the rule of Dragonstone, but the Iron Throne will be Aegon’s. The new maester thinks he has something to help Lucerys with his sea-bound affliction, and he will be able to rule Driftmark.”

“Daemon-”

“Daemon is Daemon, he will always be out for violence. Should you wish to be free of him-”

Rhaenyra laughed bitterly. “I am much too free of him, father. He has been spending much time elsewhere,” she said quietly, then looked up at her father. “I see there is no dissuading you, so I should wish for your help with something in return.”

* * * * *

By the time dinner was announced, Daemon had left, and neither Viserys nor Rhaenyra seemed to mind too much. Aemond took you to meet his older sister, with whom he barely had a relationship and what he did have was filled with resentment, but you dutifully kissed her cheek and greeted her.

“I am truly happy for you, Aemond. I hope you know I am sincere in this.”

You kept a smile on your face but knew well that Aemond was not going to be so easily persuaded. He merely nodded, and looked at you. “Wife,” he said, and led you away.

“Aemond.”

You froze, as did your husband, and you both turned at his sister’s voice.

“May I speak with you?”

It was almost tangible, the anger that coursed through Aemond at that moment. You saw the tension in his shoulders, the sudden slash of color on his cheeks.

“Please.”

He glanced at his father, who did not react and did not speak, but looked intently as two of his children took each other’s measure.

The familiar smirk appeared on Aemond’s face, and you stood next to him, ready to step in front if the situation escalated, but he simply said, “Of course. Sister.” He looked down at you and nodded, and when Rhaenyra put her hand out as she walked past him, he offered her his arm and led her out to the study.

The king approached you, and smiled at you. “And I should wish to speak with you, princess.”

You sank into a deep curtsy, and when the king offered you his arm, you took it, and let him lead you to the library.

* * * * *

“I understand you took an arrow for my son.”

Well, you thought, he went right to the point, so to speak. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Viserys looked at you for a few moments. “Why?”

You opened your mouth but found no words. Taking a deep breath, you collected your thoughts. “Your Grace, it was pure instinct. I heard a sound that I equated with danger and I moved. I did not think about it.”

“And have you thought about it since?”

“Yes.”

This was uncomfortable. You barely knew the king, and to be discussing such personal matters was disconcerting.

“My son is much changed, and I believe it is all due to you.”

“He has been kind to me since we met, Your Grace.”

Viserys smiled. “He seems much changed from the young man I remember. I was never much involved in my children’s lives,” he said, his smile fading, “at least, not these children. It is something I intend to correct.”

“He is thriving with the duties you have charged him with. With the purpose you have given him.”

“Your father should visit,” he said suddenly. “I am told he is a good man, learned and loyal to the crown.”

You nodded. “He is all that, Your Grace.”

“Send a raven. Tell him I wish to meet him.” He looked at you thoughtfully. “And you, princess, what is to be your purpose?”

“I wish to support my husband and the crown,” you said, “and I hope I can be of help to those that most need it.”

“Have you any ideas of how to go about this?”

You smiled. “I have a few, Your Grace.”

* * * * *

“It is so very odd, it is not?”

Aemond removed his eyepatch, and began removing the tie holding his hair back. “What is?”

“How easily Rhaenyra accepted the change in the line of succession. After so many years, I would have thought she’d be more reticent.”

“I believe she has more than that on her mind,” he replied. “I must admit it has been challenging to put together the strategy father requested. I have found it most thrilling to compare ideas with Lord Corlys.” He looked at his wife, who was brushing out her hair, and began walking towards her.

She turned as he reached her, raising her face to his and he kissed her, pulling her against him. He felt her wrap her arms around his neck, the sweet taste of her one he’d missed all day. “You are most delightfully soft, wife, the sweetest and softest of women.” He took her to their bed as her hands began pulling up his tunic.

“And you,” she said between kisses, as she ran her hands up his back, “you are the most loving of men.” When he pulled the tunic over his head, she looked him over, “and the most handsome one in the realm.”

“I hope the new maester has some cure for whatever disease is taking over your mind, wife,” Aemond replied, “although it does benefit me to simply let you continue with such beliefs.” He began kissing your neck, and you arched against him, already wanting more. He tugged down your nightgown, exposing your breasts and immediately took one rosy peak in his mouth.

It felt so good, his tongue and lips so soft against your sensitive skin, yet sending such pleasurable sensations through you, that you moaned, holding his head against you. You remembered how it had felt when he had done much the same between your legs and your face warmed.

Aemond let go of your breast - “I must have you,” he muttered, shoving your nightgown up past your hips. He kneed your legs apart and kissed your mouth as he settled against you. “Do you know what you do to me, wife?” he whispered, and you felt tears come to your eyes at the tenderness in his gaze.

“I love you, Aemond.”

“I love you, my sweet.”

* * * * *

“Tell me about Rhaenyra.”

Aemond sighed. “She did not apologize, but I did not expect her to,” he said while you worked behind him. He had always worn his hair pulled back from his face, secured by a leather tie, but you’d asked him if he would let you braid it instead, and to your surprise, he’d agreed. “Many platitudes and pretty words about friendship and family.”

You ran your fingers through the silken locks, plaiting and smoothing until you reached the end of the braid, then you secured it with the tie you had in your pocket. “Does it feel comfortable?”

“Hmm,” he turned, looking over his shoulder. “Very much so. I might start wearing it like this during training.” He rolled his eye, “if I ever get back to training.”

“You will,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Right now the king needs your brilliant mind. How fares your work with Lord Corlys?”

“I have gained much respect for the man. I will admit, I did not give him much thought before, other than he was one of those perpetuating the lie of the Strong bastards.” He leaned down to kiss you, and you touched his cheek. He had grown accustomed to you touching his face, and whereas only a couple of weeks ago he’d have tensed if you were too close to touching his scar, he now didn’t seem to notice when you did. “We shall present our findings and our plans to father soon. Speaking of fathers, yours arrives in two days’ time, I think.”

Your smile grew at the thought of seeing your father. “Yes, I am happy to introduce him to the king, and to have him visit.”

“It will be good to hear his counsel on some of the issues we face, he is a learned man and I have enjoyed our conversations.” He leaned down to kiss you again. “And he is always welcome wherever I may be. As is Lord Stoughton.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “It means so much to me, Aemond.”

“You are my love, my world, and I would see you happy.”

A long, drawn out raspy whine broke the moment and Aemond closed his eye, sighing. You laughed, well aware where the pitiful sound was coming from. “Poor Aegon. It cannot be easy for him to stop drinking from one day to the next.”

“If he hadn’t gotten to the point where he needed to drink to get through the day, he wouldn’t feel so wretched now.”

* * * * *

Tagging:

@arryn-nyx @girlwith-thepearlearring @greenowlfactif @hydrationqueensworld @megzdoodle @melsunshine @queenofshinigamis @throughgoeshamilton @travelingmypassion @watercolorskyy @zillahvathek

@hb8301 @kaemond-zafiro @arcielee

Tagging for this fic:

@shros3b @malfoytargaryen @fedeffy @randomdragonfires @issshhh @opheliaas-stuff @brianochka @devils-blackrose @wolflinkpaws @fangirlninja67 @dahlias-and-marigolds @fedeffy @smailaway @wasntpriscilla

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #Aemond Targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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anjumbai · 5 months

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Before the Coffee Gets Cold: Tales from the café by Toshikazu Kawaguchi

"We can never truly see into the hearts of others. When people get lost in their own worries, they can be blind to the feelings of those most important to them."

I picked up the second book. Unintentionally. Not my fault, ok. I was just picking up book from Islamia Library and I thought I do need a short story book so I picked this one up. Without realizing that the first book was right next to it. Silly me, but anyways.

Funiculi Funicula, a coffee shop in Tokyo, one can travel back in time once served coffee by one of the girls of the Tokita family. There are a few rules including: 1. the person you're about to meet should've visited the cafe at least once, 2. you cannot change the present no matter how you try or what you try, 3. you must sit in the one chair assigned to travelers and you cannot leave it once you're in the past or future and 4. you must finish the coffee before it gets cold. Forgive me if I missed any.

The following rules bring up a lot of questions and the most significant one in my mind was that "can I simply not take something like a heater to keep it warm?" and the book simply replies no you cannot. Which is fine, because it's a magical realism book and I do not wanna question the laws of time travel behind it. The rules provide us with a beautiful sequence of short stories that probably can be read as standalones. I'm not saying this because I bought the second book first don't look at me.

While it can be read as standalones, the cast of the cafe owners and workers remain the same and I think they are a good addition to this long series of books. It provides you with a familiarity, that each time you pick a new book, there are people you can recognize, there are people to return to. Which is why book series work so great, that feeling of familiarity. The recurring faces of the cafe are Nagare, his daughter, the absolutely adorable Miki and the heavy hearted Kazu, who we sympathize greatly at the end of this book.

I'll take this moment to talk about my favourite character, Miki. The six year old girl turning seven in the final half of the book, who made me smile tremendously every time she entered the room. She sometimes becomes French, changes her attitude towards other in a way a child would when they learn new things, and she is filled with impatience and hope to be the next pourer of the coffee, to let people go to the past. She probably just wants to feel important and that's just so innocently childlike that I cannot help the urge to just be in her company. Here is a series of dialogues between her and her father, Nagare, regarding the first time she pours coffee. She thrives in the at her moment of "my time has come". I found it so funny so I cannot help but share it:

"Is it you, monsieur, who wants to return to the past?" "Miki, please, speak proper Japanese," said Nagare, aghast at her attitude. But Miki tsk-tsked him with a wave of her finger. "That is not possible, moi (nobody knows why she calls herself moi) is not Japanese," she retorted. Nagare gave an exaggerated frown as if he had been expecting such a response. "Oh, what a shame! It is a rule of the cafe that the person who pours the coffee must be Japanese." "ONLY KIDDING. I'm Japanese."

I laughed out loud at a moment in a book, and it's just great how my imagination could make this scene so funny to me. And Toshikazu Kawaguchi surprised me with his remarks about the contrast of Miki and the seemingly cold Kazu. The line was: "If people had auras whose colors were somehow visible, there is no doubt that Kazu would be surrounded by pale aqua, while Miki's would be orange."

A flutter of emotions and memories grasp my mind and I'm reminded of how much I love the color orange.

Will buy the rest of the books cause I love having something casual to read and just enjoy myself. Short stories are great in the busy world I created for myself. 7/10, I'll probably look for the first and third book soon.

#review #book review #japanese books #toshikazu kawaguchi #Before the coffee gets cold #tales from the cafe #thoughts

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memarrymilf · 2 years

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What Have We Become, What Has Been Done? Part 1

Summary: Rhaenyra Targaryen’s younger sister is pinning after her best friend, yet she knew it was all in vain.

Alicent Hightower x Reader

Chapter 1: Male Heir

I stare into the heavens and- not for the first time- I wonder how the gods could be so cruel. I remember a time when things were simpler, when the world didn’t feel like it was constantly at an end. Back then staring into the heavens I did not beg the gods for a moment of peace, rather I had seen the stars and I was reminded of her. Her eyes always reminded me of the stars.

I remember grasping at her hands under the safety of tables, hidden from view, yet I could not stop myself- I have always wanted to be next to her. I see her now, and even after every betrayal and every fight, I could never truly bring myself to hate her. I cannot bring myself to wish that we had never met for I know that I would be a vastly different person had I not had the privilege to hold onto her.

I am nothing of significance to the realm. The second daughter of a king who longed for a son. A girl who is looked down upon for “playing” with swords when I was meant to be taught to please a husband. Had I known back then that I would mean something to her, I would have never doubted that I was doing the right thing.

I did not wish to be born into this life, my father loved me- no doubt, as did my mother, but I longed for a life far away from this place, with the girl I love. She was friends with my sister- best friends, I could never find it within myself to profess that the love I held for her was anything more than friendship. I could never betray Rhaenyra in such a manner.

Rhaenyra was everything to me, still is- when I was younger, I remember holding onto her hand and demanding that she take me all around the castle, I was not allowed to walk about on my own. Rhaenyra had not lost her temper; she did not send me away or say that she had better things to do as my father had.

Rhaenyra and our father had a special bond, as they spent time together, I had latched onto our mother’s side. I did not blame my sister for the strain between our father and I. I was simply another reminder that our parents had yet to produce a male heir. They were plagued with two daughters instead. I still loved my father as he did me.

I never question his love for me, if he didn’t love me- I would not have been gifted the freedoms that I have been given.

Even now as I sit under a tree in the courtyard, not one of significance, I stare at the sky and think of my family, my duty. My mother is shut away in her room- resting, the maesters recon that she will birth her child any day now, a tourney is being held in the unborn child’s honour.

My sister is on dragon back, my father attending a meeting with the small council. Alicent is nowhere to be found, I assume she is hidden away in some dark corner of the library. She has always been the smartest person that I know.

She found joy in learning in a way that I am unable to comprehend. She longed to know more- no matter how much she already knew. Had she been born a man she would have been a maester, I’m sure.

I do hope that my mother produces a male child this time, if she does that would take a lot of pressure off of my father and off of my sister. My sister is the eldest, a position that she has come to detest with time. I suppose that if I was cursed with the fate of being the eldest, I too would come to hate what the realm wishes for me to be.

My sister lives in defiance, she thrives off of the chaos she creates, I desire order above all. Nothing much had ever been expected of me. I drift from place to place within the court, unseen, unheard. I hold nothing. To them I am merely a bargaining chip for them to pawn off in hopes of gaining the favour of a house that holds a sense of power over the realm. I do not wish to sign my name away; I do not want to become a Velaryon or a Stark or a Lannister and the only Hightower name I would bare would not come from Lord Hightower.

I could marry a cousin, but alas, Rhaenyra will have her pick of the litter first. We only have so many cousins that still bare the Targaryen name. My sister deserves the best and I am contented in waiting to see those who are left.

I thought about running away to Essos or Pentos and living my life as a sell sword, but my father would never allow it. It is merely a dream that will never come to fruition. I wish I could take Alicent’s hand, mount my dragon and flee somewhere where we would be free. I could never bring myself to do it- she loves her family, and Rhaenyra far too much to ever abandon them. She holds them dear, and I could not be so cruel as to separate them.

I long for an embrace that I know will never come. I hold out my arms waiting for warmth to envelope me, yet it never comes, and I know that it never will.

I miss someone who was never mine, a fate that could only lead to misery, I fear. No matter how hard I wish, or how much I pray to the gods who seem to be far too content to let those they watch over suffer, I know she wont return to me- she was never next to me to begin with. Perhaps it is my own fault, I had not reached out to her in the way that I wish I could, a sense of duty always kept me rooted in my spot.

I find my hand reaching for hers, my eyes locking onto hers in the crowds and I wish I could force myself to stop, but I have never been able. I force my eyes to look away and instead of the relief that I was meant to feel- for I was doing the right thing- I only felt anguish and pain instead.

I regret to think that even when I am doing the right thing- my heart always hurts. “Princess, are you planning on spending all day staring at the sky, or will you perhaps make your way to court anytime soon? Your father has requested your presence more than once already- he has a matter of urgence to discuss with you.” I raise my eyes and meet the eyes that haunt my dreams and become the centre of every desire.

“Well, if Lady Hightower demands it, who am I to deny her?” I tease, I do not look at her any longer than deemed appropriate.

She gives me a small smile, looking through her eyelashes. “It was not a demand princess, only a question.” She replies softly, in a manner that suggests that she is afraid of teasing back.

We do not really speak to each other, we had, back when I didn’t hold an undying love for her. Back then we used to spend a lot of time together. It is my fault that we no longer can. I fear that my heart has condemned me to a fate where she will be no more than a stranger in my home. I fear the day that I pass her in the hall, and I can no longer recognize her face, and she cannot remember mine.

“I was merely teasing, my lady. I know that you are far too mannered to ever demand anything.” I make brief eye contact. She has a faint redness to her cheeks; poor girl has never had a friend who would mock her- I assume.

She utters a soft laugh, breathy and angelic. She bumps my shoulder slightly, a familiarity in her action that I was unaware we possessed. “Well, princess, you flatter with your honesty me none the less.” I catch myself smiling, I always hatted that title, but I might be more inclined to bare it if it keeps falling from her lips in such a manner.

The guard open the door that leads to the small council chamber, “Well, my lady, this is where I leave you.” The door closes between us before Alicent can respond. Only my father is in the chamber. Sat upon his seat at the head of the table.

“My daughter, I sent for you before, had the message not reached you?” he has the same smile on his face that he has when he is dealing with Rhaenyra and her chaos.

I move a little closer to him, “I fear it had not father, if I had known that you were sending for me, I would have come immediately.” His face relaxes, I do not know why he would think that I would ignore his calls. I like to think that he knows me better than that.

He gestures to the seat next to him; I sit down watching him for a moment. “As you know there will be a tourney to honour your new sibling.” I nod along, “your mother and sister have spoken to me about your desire to compete,” oh no, “and if you truly do want to compete, I will not stand in your way.”

I look at him for a moment, trying to comprehend what he is saying. “Father, are you serious?” I had spoken to Rhaenyra and mother, expressing my need to honour my sibling in my own way, I had not expected them to attempt to convince my father to allow me to. It was merely a dream.

“Yes, your mother explained that it will be to honour your sibling and I would not want to stop you.” A small smile graces his face, I am elated by this news. “Your mother has had armour prepared for you; it holds the family crest.” I jump from my seat, kissing my father’s cheek.

“Thank you, father!” I exclaim rushing towards the door, to my mother.

The servants move out of the way as I storm past them to get to my mother’s room where she is likely to be resting. The guard outside the door opens it for me as he sees me barrelling towards it.

My mother raises her head from the needle work that is rested in her lap, “Mother!” I wrap myself around her as soon as I am close enough to grab a hold of her. “Thank you for convincing father and for the armour, I will do you and our family proud, I swear it.”

She rests her hand on my cheek, her face is flushed and coated in sweat, early stages of going into labour the measters had said. “I know sweetling, you always do.”

We do not speak for long, mother is exhausted.

When I leave her room, I make my way to look for Rhaenyra, starting in her room which is empty, then the library- also empty, then the courtyard, she is resting her head on Alicent’s lap under the largest tree in the garden. I rush towards her when I see them- as I approach it is Alicent who is the first to see me, as she stops reading to Rhaenyra- her attention too soon shifts to me. “Sister,” she greets me.

She sits up, “Rhaenyra, I wanted to come and thank you for speaking with father, he has allowed me to join the tourney tomorrow.” I gush, she smiles.

“I am glad, you work so hard- you must not hold back, my favour will be yours.” I am touched by her words, even if I know that I will not win, her confidence in me will make me fight harder.

I open my mouth- “As will mine,” Alicent’s voice is soft. Her words touch something deep within me. She believes in me.

“Thank you, my lady, sister. I do not think that I will win, but I will fight hard to bring honour to our family.” I rush away as fast as I have come, blush coating my cheeks. I didn’t truly have anywhere I needed to go, but I would not stay there and perhaps embrace myself.

So, I take a much slower stroll through the castle to my chambers. Inside of them, a set of armour awaits me, dark in colour and the Targaryen crest is in the centre of the chest-piece. A sword is propped up against it, the blade black. I grasp it in my hand, it feels very similar to the blade I already own. This one however seems to have a slightly heavier tip.

As I swing the blade in my hand, it comes down at a much faster pace. Something that will surely be to my advantage when the battle is near. I heard that uncle Daemon will be returning for the tourney. No doubt he is only coming to see if he will still be the only male heir.

I think the entire male heir supremacy is bollox, but I do not control the world or those who run it. I cannot change the way of things simply because I think they are unfair. My father was the eldest male heir- not even directly in line for the throne, no, that was my aunt, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. She should have been allowed to inherit her father’s throne- she was his heir. But men would rather set the kingdom to flame then see a woman on the iron throne.

I fear that if my mother does not produce a male heir the same fate will befall my sister. If we are all only women, the throne will go to Uncle Daemon, the eldest male heir, if anything is to happen to my father.

I do not dine with my family that evening, mother is in pain and father chooses to dine with her in their chambers. Rhaenyra dines with Alicent in hers. And I stay in my room, praying that tomorrow everything will be good.

-TIME SKIP-

Last night sleep had not been easy to find, it evaded me as if I was the one who causes fear of the dark. I had spent the night staring at the ceiling and reminiscing over a life that I will never have, yet I long for. I thought of a simple life in Dorne or Essos, the great plains of open fields. I thought of her warm hand holding mine and I dreamed while awake of a time that will never come.

In honesty, I have made peace with the fact that I will always be alone. Always the lover yet never loved. Nobody had told me that carrying one’s heart on your sleeve would allow everyone to grasp at it, while they hid theirs in their chest, safe behind a cage of ivory.

Y/N Daenerys Targaryen, the fool who loved too soon and too hard.

#alicent targaryen #lady alicent #young rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys iii targaryen #house of the dragon #game of thrones #pinning #girl help #they're lesbians your honor #just kiss already #like omg #just please kiss #break the tension

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msmobear · 4 months

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Written in the Stars - Zodiac Challenge - Aries - Recap

Cadence Goth, daughter of my Asylum challenge sim Callie Grubb, was the first generation sim for my custom Zodiac challenge playthrough. I wanted a fun way to continue playing my save after Callie successfully left the asylum and fulfilled her dream of being a Selvadorada treasure hunter. Cadence was born from a fling between Callie and Mortimer Goth, and Callie had Cadence later in life, passing away just before Cadence graduated high school, and Mortimer had died years before, leaving Cadence an orphan.

A lawyer contacted Cadence to inform her of the inheritance of Ophelia Villa, the Goth family home in Willow Creek, and Cadence moved in, deciding to renovate and work locally instead of going off to college. She married her high school sweetheart, Wyatt Jeong, and she eventually joined the military.

One day, she found out she was pregnant, and continued to progress her career during her pregnancy. Their twins, Adam and Audrey, were born. A couple of years later, their daughter Bailey followed.

Ophelia Villa, originally a dark, dusty and long-abandoned house became a warm and inviting home for the Jeong family. The children grew, went to school, and began to develop their own dreams as Wyatt and Cadence grew older and watched their children thrive.

They celebrated many Spooky Days, Winterfests, and Harvestfests together. Adam graduated from high school early, Audrey graduated as Valedictorian, and Bailey simply graduated which, given her wild, youngest-child nature, was a feat in itself. Adam bought a small plot of land in Chestnut Ridge to start a farm, Audrey eloped with her boyfriend, much to Cadence's dismay, and Bailey moved in with her boyfriend a couple of neighborhoods over in Willow Creek. Time was moving fast, and before Cadence even realized what was happening, her children were gone, and her time was drawing near.

One year, Wyatt passed first, just before Harvestfest, and the children returned home to spend the holiday with their mother. It was there that Cadence told them her wishes. The three would receive equal cash inheritances, and Audrey would inherit Ophelia Villa since Adam was now in Chestnut Ridge. It was also there that Adam announced that he was getting married to his high school sweetheart: Hadley Martin.

A few months later, just before Easter, Adam and Hadley married at their small farm in Chestnut Ridge. Cadence, assisted by Audrey and Bailey, made the journey in order to see her son marry and to meet his new bride, as well as their dog, Bear.

A couple months later, Cadence passed away, and the children reunited to bury their mother next to their father in the Willow Creek cemetery, where their grandmother Callie and grandfather Mortimer were also buried. A long life, that was well-lived and full of love, had ended.

And now the torch passes from Aries to Taurus.

♡ website ♡ x ♡ instagram ♡ ko-fi ♡

#the sims 4 #the sims #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims legacy #simswithmolly #written in the stars #zodiac challenge

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lemillion-sunflowers · 3 years

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Bubble Gum (Kamisato Ayato x Reader)

TITLE: BUBBLE GUM

Characters: Ayato x Reader

Themes: Angst, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, No happy ending

A/N: I was inspired by Clairo’s song Bubble gum. Since I was being an Ayato simp and have been saving primos for his face, here’s an angsty reader x Ayato lol

Might not be proof-read but whatever

Word count: 1,666 words (lmao)

Kamisato Ayato looked at his reflection. He put on his white formal suit and smoothed it. He took a big gulp of air. Today's the day. He had to look his best. He practiced his usual business-like smile as he buttoned up his left cuff.

"It's going to be fine," He muttered to himself.

The Kamisato Zaibatsu is one of the three well-known zaibatsus in Inazuma, along with the Kujou and the Hiiragi. Since Ayato is the eldest son of the current head, he was groomed to be the next head of the Zaibatsu. He had been exposed to learning the family business and was even sent abroad to study for his post-graduate degree in business.

"You can hide anything using a smile," were his mother's words whenever little Ayato gets reprimanded for a small mistake by his father. Then she’d wipe his tears away and push up his chubby cheeks upwards, mimicking a smile.

As Ayato grew up, he thrived in the compliments of the adults around him. He’d offer a polite smile and a nod in return. He had lost count of how many fake smiles he had to show in public that he kept wishing he was just a normal man. A normal man without the pressure to keep the family’s business and image.

The next Kamisato head could only count how many times he had shown his genuine smile. He was thankful for the presence of his younger sister, Ayaka, who had watched over him. He also enjoyed the company of his cousin, Sayu, and his friends, Itto, Thoma.

Then there was you. Oh god, you. If Ayato could worship the ground you walk on, if he would. The way you bring out a dozen of genuine smiles from him could make his heart burst. He felt his smile go real as he watched you walking towards him from his reflection.

“You look so nice in your suit, Ayato,” You commented.

“Just nice?” Ayato chuckled. “I’m hurt. After all the effort I put in making myself look this great?”

It was seven years ago that Ayato met you at the university. Both of you were studying in the same college major and were classmates in one of your major subjects. It somehow surprised him that you didn’t know that he was some son of a business giant and treated him like a normal guy.

That was the reason why Ayato like you so much. You aren’t like the people who sing him praises so they could boast that they are good friends with the Kamisato’s next head. He couldn’t simply dismiss you with a polite smile and get on with it.

The more time you two spent together, the more his heart grew fond of you. He confided in Ayaka about his feelings and Ayaka was very supportive. But he told her never to tell their father no matter what happens.

You always liked chewing bubble gum whenever you feel tense for some reason. On top of his milk tea addiction, he had adapted that behavior.

------

On a fateful day Ayato had planned to tell you his feelings, he was chewing gum the way you do. Then his father told him to postpone his plans for the day.

“I have found you a suitable wife,” His father spoke. “It’s going to be Tsukasa, the eldest daughter of the Hiiragi family. It would be good for the family and the business if we start uniting the two families together.”

“Ah,” The polite smile grew and the bubble gum seemed to have lost its taste.

“Father, why would you do that to Onii-sama!?” Much to his surprise, the meek, obedient Ayaka protested strongly. “Please don’t do that to him. He deserves to be happy.”

“He has to learn how to prioritize family over his personal affairs,” Their father sternly said.

“Please, Father, reconsider,” Ayaka cried and knelt at their Father’s feet. She kowtowed as tears fell on her cheeks. “Please give him the freedom to choose the one he loves.”

“YOU CAN’T FOOL ME WITH THAT,” Their father started to scream. “STAND UP. AND DON’T YOU DARE TO CHALLENGE ME. MY DECISION IS FINAL.”

Ayaka looked up, “No, Father! Onii-sama loves…”

“Ayaka-chan,” Ayato cut in, guiding her to stand up. “It’s alright.”

He swallowed his gum for the first time. It was the same way he swallowed down his feelings. Ayaka’s teary eyes widened in horror as she saw THAT smile of his.

“Father, I understand,” Ayato gave a slight bow. “For the glory of the Kamisato family. I pray I can be a good husband to Ms. Hiiragi.”

----

“Do you have gum?” Ayato smiled softly. “I’m a bunch of nerves right now. It might help feel better somehow.”

“You know I always do,” You smiled as you chewed bubble gum. “Here.”

Then you spoke to him, “Ah. Your necktie. Let me fix that for you.”

Ayato’s blue eyes watched you intently as you fixed his tie. He just wanted to kiss you there and then and ask you to run away with him. Little did he know that you just used his crooked necktie as an excuse so you could hold him closer. You’d like to indulge yourself a little.

You know, imagining yourself as his lover. Fantasize about it for a few more minutes.

Because of your humble background, you felt that you are no match for Ayato. You two were worlds apart and it felt as if there was a line you couldn’t cross. He was a prince while you were just a commoner who has no right dream to be Cinderella.

“All done,” You smiled sweetly. “You look so handsome now.”

“Oh really now?” Ayato smiled back. His heart would always skip a beat whenever you compliment him.

At this moment, he wanted to do everything in his power. It might be probably the last he’d be able to smile genuinely. He hated himself for smiling and nodding politely again. He wished he had Ayaka’s spunk so he could have you all to himself.

“Hey, (Name),” Ayato spoke up. “I’m going to be cheesy here for a moment. But will you stay by my side for a long time?”

Your heart stopped. What did Ayato mean by that? You tried to hide your slight dismay with a grin. For this man, you are willing to do everything for him. What a simp.

He seemed to be more suited with that Ms. Hiiragi anyways. A prince is suited for a princess, not a pauper.

“Of course. We have been friends for a long time now, silly,” You replied. You remember the day you broke in Ayaka’s arms when she broke the news. You blamed yourself how afraid you were such a chicken to tell him how you love him.

“I’m not leaving your stupid ass,” You assured him. Oh Archons, the way you’d do everything just to remain in his life. It didn’t matter if you weren’t his lover. As long as he is happy.

“You’re chewing your bubble gum way too fast,” Ayato chuckled. “You’re more nervous than me, I see.”

“What bubblegum?” You gulped down the bubble gum the same way you have gulped down your feelings for him instead.

“Onii-sama, it’s time,” Ayaka’s voice softly entered the room.

Ayato studied your features. Taking it all in before he goes out and then took you into his arms tightly. He just wanted to bask in your warmth and stay there for a lifetime. You, on the other hand, expressed all the love you have for him.

When you two broke the hug, Ayato gave Ayaka a pat on the head and hurriedly left. Once Ayato was out of sight, tears uncontrollably started streaming out of your eyes. The silent sobs of your broken heart filled the room as Ayaka held you.

“I’m so sorry,” Ayaka spoke, holding you tighter. She could hear two hears breaking today the moment she saw you two. She knew you how you two loved each other and how much happiness you bring to her dearest brother. That was why she knelt down in front of their father and begged him not to go on with the engagement.

As the bridal march began, Ayato took the opportunity to grieve for the love and happiness he’ll never have. It was the best way to conceal it, thinking he was the groom crying tears of joy. He couldn’t help the tears flowing down from his eyes.

"I have been dumb for seven years," He thought. "It hurts..."

His tears kept flowing as his mind flashed back in every memory you have spent with him.

The day you took went biking with him. You lost the bet and he made you ride Sayu's bike (which was too small for you).

The boba tea you both enjoy with Ayaka and Thoma after a stressful day.

The way you two would hang out with Itto to play computer games in the internet cafe. With Itto screaming out that he had no kills.

The one fateful nights you two snuck out to go eat fast food and go stargazing. You two ended up crashing the sportscar he got on his 21st birthday. Luckily, no one got hurt but both of you got an earful.

When his wife-to-be started walking down the aisle, he looked at you who was crying too. You gave him a teary smile and a thumbs-up as Ayaka rubbed your shoulder.

Ayato promised himself that Ayaka will never go through the same heartbreak he had. Maybe in his next life, he’ll be able to be a free man and choose to be finally with you. He wanted to punch himself for being a coward who only cared about keeping up his appearance and lying to himself.

He decided to swallow down the bubble in his mouth. Just like that, he swallowed down his feelings once again, and let them sit in his stomach for a lifetime.

#ayato kamisato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato angst #ayato angst #genshin impact #angst #fanfic #song fic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact angst #ayato x reader angst #kamisato ayato x reader angst

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ourankingdom · 3 years

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Ouran Host Club Master list

Last Updated: 5/13/2024

Rules

No suicidal/selfharm themes

No ED themes

Always request when you want to

If you find something triggering in one of my posts, message me or comment so I can properly tag it

Enjoy!

Takashi Morinozuka

In My Eyes (You Fret For Naught)

Y/n was never meant to be the one. She was supposed to be their to support, to protect, to ensure the future of her beloved younger sister. Y/n Y/l/n was a bastard child and she had to live with the consequences; she knew love wasn’t on the table. That was, until she met him. Multi-Chapter ~September 5th

Come Outside (The World We Share)

Haruhi never wanted to blur the lines she drew. Each was placed meticulously in order to keep her life in check. The host club stayed in her academic square, and Y/n stayed in her home life. She loved Y/n, her twin, fiercely. The Lobelia Academy Honor Student was someone who deserved more than the false pretensions of Ouran High School. She had no idea her darling sister already knew a few members, and on a very personal level. Soulmate AU ~May 27th

Don’t Let Go (I’m Drowning In These Thoughts)

Takashi knew when he was nine that things weren’t perfect for his true love. He knew because no nine year old should be slapped that hard. His parents, too, knew it in the way that their eldest would wince ever so slightly, that their future child-in-law was in trouble. The years went by and the stranger connected to their son kept living, and learned to thrive. The pain shifted from his head to his forearm, from his body to his knuckles. They were learning to defend themselves. Now, eighteen, Takashi felt no more intense attacks from his other half, sore muscles in the stead of misery. No, not until he witnessed a girl being attacked outside the kendo room. Soulmate AU ~June 19th

Be My Erebus (Moving With You Each Step Of The Way)

Y/n found solace in the size of her shadow. The long stretch of darkness following her was a symbol of her one true love, the man she’d spend the rest of her life loving. Some romanticized her as she walked past on the street, others feared the person she was fated for. Either way, none of it mattered. Not when he was out there. Takashi would face away from the sun any time he could. The disproportionate shadow stood in front of him, proud in a way he never quiet understood. The girls around him swooned at the petite darkness. Takashi never quiet knew how to feel about it, but that didn’t matter. Not when she was out there. Soulmate AU ~June 9th

A B See You Later

Y/n saw love in undersized chairs and finger paintings, where little arms gave tiny hugs and the biggest smiles. Adults, she knows, lie and cheat. They take and take with no regard for where anything comes from. They simply aren’t worth the effort.

~June 20th

Kyoya Ootori

Little Nightingale (Spread Your Wings And Soar)

Y/n had lived her entire life the way she was expected, the way the Japanese elite deemed acceptable for the eldest daughter of the Y/l/n family. Her entire life was planned from start to finish, including her future marriage to the eldest Haninozuka.

~August 27th

Hear My Heart Break (Anothers Touch On Your Skin)

Y/n hadn’t met her soulmate yet, and there, at seventeen of age, she hoped she never would. Not after tonight. Soulmate AU -October 3rd

I Can’t Watch You Go (But I Could Never Look Away)

Maybe he should have noticed it. Seen it in the sparkle shone in her creamy eyes, the linger of her fingers, the chime in her laugh. All the signs were there, and they all pointed his way. Perhaps Kyoya should have seen it in the way Y/n always turned to him, always greeted him the longest. Yes, Y/n was an open book with her affection-- everyone knew, she was in love with Tamaki.

~Read Here!

Tamaki Suoh

My Heart Will Break (Or So You Say)

The two youngest Ootori’s were similar in many ways. Cold, calculating, smart, ambitions, morally grey, they were each others worst catalyst, taking the roles of confidants, best friends, siblings, and competition. The only major difference being that one was a Casanova-- and a women.

~November 16th

We Can Try Again (And Love In Another Life)

It was always supposed to be them-- Tamaki and Y/n. The went together perfectly, soulmates in every sense of the word.. except the ones written on their bodies. Soulmate AU ~May 23rd

Hikaru Hiitachin

Stay In My Heart (For You’ll Fade Everywhere Else)

He should have known time was running out. With every glance she stole, every touch that lingered, and every hug that she never wanted to let go of, he should have known. Y/n would fade from every aspect of his life, but she may live forever with the love he has in his heart.

~June 12th

Karou Hitachiin

Say You Love Me (I Swear I’ll Believe You)

Y/n had never thought her sister would introduce her to the man she wanted to marry. She also never knew that the fashion designer she had aspired to be would end up being such a kind guy. Y/n was a fool, and Haruhi couldn’t warn her in time.

~August 8th

Shades Of Grey (And The Times Color Filled His World)

Karou knew nothing outside the grey hues for his entire childhood. Black and white lines blurred together in every one of his memories, until he met her. Y/n came and set his world ablaze, lighting every moment she touched. On one pathetic day, the colors began to flicker. And, then, the colors all faded away. Soulmate AU ~December 18th

Mitskuni Haninozuka

My Love Won’t Break (But My Trust May Bend)

Honey knew what he was doing when he used Haruhi’s commoners debit card instead of his gold card only to pay her back later. He knew what he was doing when he misled her with his words. He knew what he was doing talking to the beautiful baker. Honey also knew what he was doing when he asked her on a date to the amusement park. What he didn’t know was what would happen when he invited his girlfriend to his house for his birthday, he had no idea what he did.

~October 9th

Reflected Through You (All My Life)

Many people assumed Honey’s soulmate had been the one who learned martial arts. That was fine, Honey didn’t particularly care that people chose to be ignorent to the years he spent training, learning, filled with dedication. Many people assumed Y/n’s soulmate had been the one who learned the violin. They elite didn’t believe a girl from the middle class could possibly afford the lessons required to play perfectly. It no loger bothered her, the classist opinions didn’t matter, even if that meant no one cared about the commitment her mother had to helping her daughter peruse her dream or the jobs she’d been working since she was fourteen. Y/n and Honey both knew the truth, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Soulmate Au ~June 20th

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abbynx · 3 years

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Being Sorlato’s child + Being babysat by La squadra

A/N: Soooo, this is a direct sequel from the one-shot “Encounter” if you haven’t read it yet, feel free to browse it here

Genre: Fluff, platonic, wholesome headcanons

- After the encounter, the couple found themselves thinking about it all the time, how different they acted to a child at the face of danger, and how afraid they were and how quick they were to act upon instinct and save you. There was certainly something the couple felt in their chest they can’t fathom but somehow liked the pleasant feeling.

- One time Sorbet was found lounging around the La Squadra headquarters with a pamphlet regarding parenting whilst waiting for the meeting. When asked why he was reading that he nonchalantly replies that the thing was lying around and decided to read it because, “Why not?” One knows not to question him any further, so they let him be.

- Gelato was found longingly staring at parents with their kids on the playground whilst on a mission and again, no one dared to speak a word of it. He didn’t leave even if the mission was over, until Sorbet was called in and had to physically drag him away.

- They both knew it was getting out of hand because all they can think of now was wanting to raise a child of their own but they knew their circumstance were the least ideal to put a child in. For crying out loud, they kill people for a living and they didn’t really want to subject a child into this mess of their’s.

- “God, is this what baby fever feels like?”

- The couple has discussed about this, over and over than they can recall. When Gelato would suddenly mention, “You know, if we were to have a son I think that you can teach him how to ride a bike. That’d be sweet to watch to be honest.” or Sorbet saying, “If we were to have a daughter, I get to threaten her boyfriend to bring her back home before dinner.”

- Once again, they were out to go on their once a week date all to their selves and decided to go to the same restaurant they had to stop in to save the child. And on their way their, what are the odds, the aforementioned child coming up to them and greeting them.

“Ciao signore Sorbet! Signore Gelato!”

W-was this a sign???

"Ahh, Y/N!" Gelato was practically enthusiastic, he can just pick you up, but of course, he has to bind himself down.

"Out in the middle of the night again, I see." Sorbet points out.

"Aheh, yes sir..." You sheepishly responded. "But I really have to do everything if I want to graduate elementary with high marks."

- After a brief chat, weather, school and whatnot, once again you went on with your merry little way. After that, it was back for longing and yearning for the couple.

- The rest of La Squadra noticed this, but didn't knew how to help; until Melone picked up on the signs the couple were exuding: Sorbet reading the parenting pamphlet, Gelato longingly gazing towards parents bonding with their children, the two of them talking away about 'If we were to have a child...'— why, Melone's diagnosis: Baby fever.

- Melone somehow came up with an elaborate scheme involving an orphanage, did a couple of research. Due to some... Fortunate moment, somehow, someway, the figure running the same orphanage you resided in has made quite the list of enemies all his years.

"Melone you know that you can just tell them it's okay for them to adopt the child, right???" Risotto looks up from the detailed, complex document sent in by Babyface's user.

- Yes, it was stupidly complicated and a lot of work compared to just simply signing papers and adopting the child. The paperwork would be, again, stupidly complicated, but at least it doesn't involve bloodshed. It's not like the couple shied away from shedding blood but that wasn't the point.

- Capo Risotto had to consider their circumstances to adopt a child. Like I said, the dilemma was killing them and simply can't act out of selfishness and adopt a child just because they wanted to, it wasn't the same as a adopting a pet.

- Cue the four hour meeting with the couple, discussing about what they can do and what they cannot do. Risotto was most certainly happy for the two of them to be adopting a child of their own, taking care of them and along of those lines but again, the fact they are a part of a crime syndicate and there were a lot of things they discussed about.

- After that, everything was settled and got started with the process of adopting the child. They didn't have to chose, they already had their eyes set on a specific kid; Y/N L/N, age eleven, abandoned by their parents when they were born, who adores reading and loves (insert food) and— what? They've done their research!

- The couple was just beyond elated!

- Through the process of adopting you they learned you were six

- Now that fact was uncovered, they were now more concerned and pissed why the orphanage would neglect a first grader and let them return from school at eight in the evening. And the fact that they met you under the circumstance of danger, pretending to be the couple's kid in desperation.

- Needless to say, a lot of things are going to change in your life, especially at the aspect of your security. They are a part of those people you should fear at night, admittedly gelato has almost pulled a gun on you that fateful night out of sheer jealousy, and didn't even register the fact you were barely half Sorbet's height.

- First and foremost, you won't be staying in school longer than six thirty, as the couple takes turn on picking you up. They understand and adore the fact you're a hardworking kid thriving to have a scholarship in college despite being a literal first grader, but being a little kid walking alone in the middle of an evening is frightfully concerning. And in those times wherein either sorbet or Gelato picks you up, they'd buy you treats you want but not enough to spoil your appetite for dinner.

- You did not hesitate to address them the way you addressed them that one fateful night when they tucked you in your new room for the very first time.. Gelato cried after that and Sorbet had to hold him to his chest to clam him down. Ugh, you were so effortless at making the two of them so soft.

- They're underpaid, not broke, so the couple spoils you in an overwhelming rate, the entirety of La Squadra were beginning to get concerned. Proscuitto scolded the two that they might spoil you rotten, but they reassured them you weren't.

- Speaking of La Squadra, the couple considered them as their family. Sorbet and Gelato did not hesitate to introduce you to them not as La Squadra, but as your uncles.

- All of them were touched that Sorbet and Gelato want them to be a part of their child's life, that one of them would often volunteer to watch over you if the two were away. The couple were not going to introduce you to them as assassins and took advantage of your gullible nature as a young child. they don't intend to hide it as a secret from you. Perhaps someday they'll tell you their line of career, but six was not the right age to do so.

- Which brings us to their circumstances, the fact that they're assassins and how it is not an ideal career for people who has an attachment outside of their jobs. They were extremely careful in terms of that, wanting to protect and prevent others from using you against the couple. Well, now there's now a fate worse than death if ever that happens.

- With new responsibilities, Risotto understood them and gave them less jobs in order to take care and watch over you. But there were times where the two were both absent, prompting one of La Squadra to babysit you.

- Melone, Formaggio and Proscuitto are top picks for babysitting duties! but, of course, there are disadvantages. Melone is... Melone. Formaggio can and will act as a kid rather than an adult. And Proscuitto, well, he can be a bit too domineering. So yes, they are A-tier babysitters, nonetheless.

- B-tier babysitters would be Illuso, Pesci, and Ghiaccio. Illuso can be a bit too dismissive, Pesci will be too anxious and overprotective-- like in an extreme rate, and Ghiaccio... Hide your copy of Merchant of Venice, and you'll live another day.

- S-tier would be Risotto, except the fact that he is always busy. He is good with kids and he can guarantee their safety, I mean, need I say more?

- Under no circumstances, are they allowed to swear around you. The couple already had restricted their foul language around you, and they expect the others to do so as well. Ghiaccio is highkey sweating when you started saying bullshit whenever you're frustrated. He profusely begged you not to day that again in exchange for ice cream.

“Bullshit!” Ghiaccio’s heart skipped a beat after hearing your small voice whisper-shout on the dinner table as you attempted to solve a rather difficult math problem.

- Your relationship with them was well. They were protective of you, love you and support you. They're very affectionate, but not in an overwhelming amount... Well, at least they try to hold back but all they want to do is to spend time with their baby and love them unconditionally, as they should.

- Padre Gelato is more of a fun dad, very playful and energetic. He likes lifting you up to his hip before gently nuzzling his nose against yours. Dad jokes subconsciously slips from his mouth, be careful. He does a lot of cool tricks with his butterfly knife, twirling the sharp blade around while you stare in awe, whilst Papa Sorbet was more concerned that he'll accidentally cut himself, or that you might try the trick unsupervised. Needless to say, Padre was responsible enough to keep his knife in his pocket at all times to prevent that.

“When will you teach me how to do that, Papa?”

“When your old enough, N/N.”

- Papa Sorbet is a bit more reserved, but certainly not distant. He will not hesitate to kill someone who tries to hurt you. So he's the perfect person to serve as your teacher, as he helps you with school work and help you learn other practical things: cooking, baking, doing laundry by hand (which product is more effective to get blood off clothes), self-defense, etc.

“So if there’s a stranger following you, what do you do?”

“Cling to the nearest person I see and pretend that I know them?”

- They both tuck you into bed after reading you a bed time story, though it only lasted until you were nine because you insisted you were already grown up (cue, Gelato hiding his face on Sorbet's chest because his baby is all grown up--), but some things don't change because by bed time, they just check up on you even if they won't tuck you in to sleep.

- Extremely supportive and encouraging. Like, they're basically the gasoline you pour on fire to intensify the fire of your passion. Like, they'll cheer you on sport games and competitions, tries their best to attend recitals, etc, etc. Though sometimes one is missing due to missions, sometimes both, but in the end of the day, you were confident that they would have loved it.

- Unbeknownst to you, at the end of the competition, a certain figure will come behind you and lock you on a headlock before harshly rubbing their knuckle atop your head. Uncle Formaggio can be a mean sometimes. So yes, if ever the couple is absent from your competitions, one of your uncles would volunteer to go.

“‘Sup, little sport?”

“Uncle Formaggio, my hair--!”

- The first time you celebrated your birthday with your new parents was your seventh. They wanted to throw a goshdarn ball, but you insisted to keep the party amongst yourself. Just you, your papa and padre, and your seven weird uncles. You were already a big family, and you were happy with that.

#la squadra x reader #sorbet and gelato #gelato and sorbet #gelato x reader #sorbet x reader #platonic #familial #fluff #jjba part 5 #jojo vento aureo #headcanons #wholesome

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hollyharper · 3 years

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I think DC neds to do a five year time skip. Take their entire continuity and more it forward five years. Give us fans something new.

Maybe Bruce and Selina finally tied the knot, maybe they even have a little Helena Wayne. Their starting to train her to follow in their footsteps. Just have a bunch of sevens of the little three year old doing splits with her mom, learning how to analyze samples with her dad. Damien teaching her to fight. And of course, all the older siblings spoiling her rotten. Bruce is simply happy to spend time with his wife and kids. Selina still loves her cats. The house is over run with them, domestic and wild.

Dick and Babs should definitely be married. They have a two year old boy, James, after Barbara’s brother. Maybe even start with Barbara’s second pregnancy. This time a girl named Mary, after Dick’s mom. They have a large apartment in Blùdhavan. Dick is still Nightwing. Barbara struggles juggling her roles as his partner and wife, Batman, and The Bird’s Oracle, and being a mom. The Alfred Pennyworth foundation is thriving, and Babs resented reclaimed Gotham Clean Energy. Being the genius she is is Barbara refuses to send her kids to public school. Dick worries that adds to much extra stress to her life. She loves it. To thank her for all of her hard work, Dick brings home little gifts for her at least once a week. These presents range from chocolate bars to new computer equipment. As much as he loves when Babs cooks, Dick usually prepares their meals.

What would truly be a bomb, would be to put Jason in serious relationship. Personally, I would go with Helena Bertenilli. They started working together as partners. As they spent more time together, it became clear that they both were looking for a more intimate relationship. Their shared understanding of loss brought them closer together, until their relationship turned into lovers. Helen’s exceptional skill as a history teacher, earned her a place at Gotham High. Seeing Jason’s talent with kids, her confided him to get a teaching job as well. He mostly teaches P.E. at Gotham Academy, but also has a black smith class. He makes knives and sword son the weekend, and sells them to make money on the side. On the Battlefield, Huntress and Red Hood are inseparable, and on of the best teams Batman has. They both deeply love each other, but are afraid to talk about commitment.

Tim and Stephine are currently have issues. They’ve had an on and off relationship for the last year. Tim has entirely taken over running Wayne Enterprises. He works all day, and is out as Red Robin most of the night. His exhaustion puts a massive strain on their relationship. He feels bad about having so little time for Steph, and to show her how much he loves, her is planning to propose. Stephine feels neglected. As much as she loves Tim, his constant stress weighs on her. After talking with her mentors, she has decided that time apart would be good for both her and Tim, but she doesn’t know how to tell him. Steph has been job bouncing for awhile, another reason she’s cautious about leaving.

Cass is still Bruce’s angel child. She has little interest in dating. Her main focus is always the mission. Barbara believes she needs to get a job and stop relying on Bruce for funding. The only idea she even considered, was Helena’s suggestion to become a federal agent. Bruce strongly opposes the idea. After her father died, Cass has been trying to patch things up with her mom, who unsurprisingly wants Cass to join the League of Shadows.

At first, Damien was reluctant to accept Selina, though he would never admit, he was still hoping for his parents to work things out. When Bruce married Selina, it became clear Talia wasn’t coming back. Over time, she grew on him. Selina was the one to figure out that Damien missed his mother. After some negotiations, she convinced Bruce to invite Talia over for the holidays. It became an eagerly anticipated tradition for Damien. Talia as brings food and gifts for him. It’s the one time of year when Damian’s almost always smiles. Dami adores his little sister, and has even sworn to protect her at all costs. His relationship with Flatline died out very quickly after their meeting. Mostly, because of how immature they both were. Four years, and a sweet ex later, they meet once again on the field of battle. Again sparks flew, leading to a passionate reunion, and another hero and villain love story.

Jade and Lian were recently reunited. Their relationship is still on rocky ground, but Jade is determined to make up for the time she missed with her daughter. She makes every effort to connect with Lian, even while fighting shadows from her past. Every night, to two will sit on the roof outside of Lian’s window. Their shared interest in astronomy is a safe topic, one they touch on often. Lian wants a relationship with her mother, but is afraid Jade will leave again. Jade’s proud that her daughter took the name Cheshire Cat, and love watching her daughter in action, even though it’s usually from a distance.

Dinah and Oliver have been married for a few years. They found out pretty soon that they can’t have kids. After the news, Dinah went into depression. Their friends and family stepped up to help. Bruce tried to convince them to adopt. Neither want to, until they meet a feisty young girl named Kayleigh. Kayleigh is closed off, with deep wounds. She’s trying to become a vigilant in Star City. Her methods are overly violent. Oliver sees his younger self in her and brings her under his wing. Dinah takes a little to warm up to her. Kayleigh gives them both quite a bit of trouble, but their determined to read her. But Kayleigh’s secrets are something that could shatter their belief in her. She knows the day the find out, will be the last time she has anything close to a family.

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justasimptm · 3 years

Text

The Bride C2

By the time I woke up, I felt different, like something was moving under my skin. I barely had a moment to process the change before my mother burst into the room raving about how fantastic the change was. She said she was given a gift, that it healed her and made her stronger, and she in turn gave it to me. Hers made her bigger, stronger, scarier, mine? Well physically I didn’t change much, I was far sicker than my mother was so she theorized it focused more on fixing what was nearly destroyed than improving.

Among other small things, my eyes had changed color, the previously dark brown had shifted to a shining gold, and the pendant I wore with my family crest had essentially burned itself into my skin. My nails were longer, sharper, like claws, and my teeth would ache like they were growing in.

I would soon discover this ‘gift’ was really a curse. I had to learn to live a life I had given up on, and learn to live it as a monster. I could no longer eat the things I enjoyed, even being around food would make me violently ill, and I found myself lashing out more often. We were approached by a woman one day, who claimed herself to be the reason we were what we were. Said she had the answers.

My mother was quick to form her devotion, obsessively thanking the woman before us for her ‘miracle’ and pledging our services to her. Mother Miranda, she would later introduce herself, explained we had been given a rare gift, one that would grant us life for as long as we followed her. She said our hunger, our anger, would be sated with blood, and that she would call on us when she needed us to repay her for her gift. As if the life I was forced into was really so precious. I had no choice in my first life but to accept my death and I have no choice in my second life but to accept it is no longer my own.

Something more changed with my mother as time drew on. Where I had withdrawn, barely doing what was necessary to prolong my existence, she thrived. More than I had ever seen her do previously. She hired more servants, pulling from neighboring villages, working the girls hard and then draining them to sustain herself. She turned them into ‘wine’, poured their essence into finely crafted bottles and kept them stored as if they were vintage. She liked to say they tasted better if left to age in old wine bottles, and said the bouquet that stained the glass would saturate into the blood, making it sweeter.

And then Mother Miranda came again, throwing ideas of family towards her, offering to help her. That she could have more daughters, daughters who would enjoy the life they were offered, who would thrive with her. And how could she refuse? And so they created my sisters. Daniela, Bela and Cassandra, and how they bonded. They were the children my mother wanted more than anything, they wanted to live, they loved the hateful life they were given. They had no remorse for what they had done, what they were doing.

They were perfect. Until we found out they were weaker. They had been normal before this, so when they were changed Mother Miranda said their defects would manifest with their gift. Whereas Mother and I were essentially impervious to most things, my sisters could not fare in the cold. They had to stay in the castle, where they would be safe, or they would die.

How I wished it could end for me as simply as a breeze. My mother swore to keep them safe, punishing any servant who would carelessly leave a window or a door open. Those servants would be brought to the cellar. The others would say they would never be seen again, but they don’t realize they serve them to us in our house glasses. They bottle them and preserve them, thinking its just another wine.

If only they weren’t so naive, perhaps they would have had a fighting chance. Eventually I got sick of the jokes, the jabs from my so-called sisters about how unappreciative I was of my gift, how jealous they were that I was able to go out if I wanted to. If they wanted to play with me weak, I decided I’d see how they’d fare with me stronger. And so I fed, I fed until I was full and I fed some more until the flush it gave my cheeks seemed almost natural. I started offering to help my mother more, offering to retrieve our new servants, participating in her cruel rituals.

Eventually she started thinking I had finally seen how brilliant it was, that I was growing into my life, and ‘living it how I was meant to’. And so she started letting me come to the meetings, with Mother Miranda’s permission. At first it was just us three, until she found others. Then trickled in Donna, a poor woman who's only able to exist essentially with extensions of herself into dolls. Then Moroe, a very horrifying man who basically looks like a giant slug. He was rather simple, not all too smart, essentially just fawning over Miranda and wanting to do everything to make her happy. He ended up being a big part of her experiments.

Then came Heisenberg. A brute of a man, who like us, was able to retain his primary form. His power came in the way of controlling metal. He became essential in helping Miranda build more, essentially creating and running a factory for her experiments to try to find the right body for her child. My mother did not trust him, she always said he was conniving. That as a man he was untrustworthy and that she loathed him being a part of our ‘family’.

This was one case where I found myself actually agreeing with her. Karl Heisenberg was a vulgar excuse for a man. Crass and loud, overly confident in himself and what he would be doing. Part of him was clearly a facade, whether it was his loyalty or his talent I was unable to tell, but boy did he love making snarky comments about us.

He would quip that clearly he was the more talented of the family, that he could do more for Miranda than we could. That all we were good for was killing the townsfolk and failing. Not as if he ever did much better, though. All his experiments were from the leftovers from us, all of them turning out more dull and stupid than the last. Lycan after lycan, mistake after mistake, and still he had the gall to say he was what was the one making the progress. Even the buffoon Moroe did better than he did, and all he would do was whimper pathetically about how he wants Mother Miranda to love him.

Mother made me promise to keep away from him, something I agreed to easily, I had no desire to be around such a thing and if it would get her to loosen up more with me I was more than willing. This proved, however, to be a more difficult task than anticipated, because apparently he made it his mission to go out of his way and interact with me, even if it was in short bursts. That is where we are now.

Mother Miranda had called on us all for a meeting, requesting my mother host, which of course she agreed to, even though it meant allowing men into the house. She ordered my sisters to stay in their rooms, they were not to come out, but Miranda had requested my presence at the meeting so I, of course, had to go. It didn’t take long for the freak train to roll in. First Moroe, ever the eager pleaser, whom neither my mother nor I greeted, followed by Donna, who was excitedly chittering around. Heisenberg came last, shooting a smirk towards us before dropping onto the old loveseat. It creaked dangerously in protest at the sudden weight and I felt my mother stiffen at my side.

“That’s an antique, you oaf. Be more careful with things that do not belong to you.” I sneer, narrowing my eyes. His smirk widens considerably as he leans forward on his thighs, sliding his glasses down slightly so I can see his eyes.

“Trust me darlin’, I’m plenty gentle. You just have to beg first,” he tosses back at me, and if I had fed today I’m certain I would have flushed at his suggestive tone. My mother lets out a sound of anger but before she can cut in Mother Miranda arrives, essentially teleporting right in the middle of our potential screaming match.

#Karl Heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #heisenberg x reader #re8 #re8 karl heisenberg

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Misread Details, Part Two

CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

2 weeks ago

I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!

In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket.

The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train.

Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?

Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?

And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?

Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.

Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.

Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force.

His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.

Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.

After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.

He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.

“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.

Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear.

They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.

The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.

But Brute Hanlon had a secret.

Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.

Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.

Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.

While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.

Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged.

What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.

After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him.

Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.

One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy.

During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent.

He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.

Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good.

The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”.

Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.

Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point.

Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.

Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests.

Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.

Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.

We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.

On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.

None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life.

At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.

Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.

When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”

He was right.

What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.

The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.

Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.

Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.

The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.

He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.

Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.

Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason).

Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom.

There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there.

In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.

Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.

Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.

A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.

I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.

Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.

Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.

Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.

Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since.

Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.

I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.

So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?

In short… no one knows for sure.

After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.

The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.

He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.

Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.

Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.

Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.

Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

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mrfeenysmustache · 3 years

Note

#5 and SessKag 😬

HELL YEAH SESSKAG. Also hello best friend 🥲 you’ll be seeing this when you wake up so good morning 🥲

This one ended up a wee bit longer than the others lol

“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life”

#5 on the fluff prompt list

She’d met him at a party.

A Christmas party.

He stood stiff and awkward in the corner, a head and shoulders taller than everyone else, his crisp, fitted suit clashing with the silly holiday sweaters the rest of them wore.

“That’s my brother,” Inuyasha, her best friend and brother-in-law, whispered to her as he passed her a cup of punch, “we just reunited and the family aint too happy about it.” and she understood.

She made her way over, determined to bring him into the fold, or at least make him feel more at ease and welcome.

“Hello,” she greeted, his golden eyes slanting her way. “I’m Kagome, Kikyo’s sister. You know, Inuyasha’s wife?”

“Hn.” He responded with a nod in her direction. “Sesshomaru.”

“It’s so nice to meet you! Can I get you a drink?”

She watched his nose twitch discreetly as he scented the drink in her hand, and then his lip curled up just slightly in disgust.

“Oh, not one of these.” She giggled in response, “I know where they keep the key to the liquor cabinet.”

He relaxed just the slightest iota, and she practically beamed.

“Whisky on the rocks.”

“Coming right up!”

He sipped his drink slowly as she filled him in on every name, occupation and marital status.

Aside from Kikyo and Inuyasha, they had Koga, the bachelor bartender, Sango and Miroku, the married couple who owned a sweet shop, and..

“Me, and I’m a nurse.”

“No significant other?”

His voice, deep and rich, made the hair stand up on her arms in a pleasant way, but she resolutely ignored it.

“Nope! It’s just me.”

“Hn.”

He said little else, but she didn’t get the impression that he was annoyed, so she stayed near him as the party progressed.

“Bye everyone!” She called from the door when it was time to go. “It was so good to finally meet you Sesshomaru, I hope you’ll be around more often!”

He gave her a nod and a little smile, and she went home for a peaceful night’s sleep.

——

He was there for their next group dinner. Inuyasha warned them in hushed tones before he arrived that he may be in a foul mood.

“Things with the family have gotten worse. He barely talks so it’s hard to know what’s happened. I know they don’t like that he’s reconciled with me after they tried to completely shut me and my mom out for not being yokai, but I think there’s more he hasn’t told me. Just don’t be surprised if he’s moody this time.”

“As opposed to how warm and conversational he was at the Christmas party?” Koga quipped, laughing with Miroku and igniting Kagome’s fe mper.

“Well I thought he was nice!” she cut in, blushing when several sets of stunned eyes turned on her at once. “He was!”

“Yeah we saw you two getting cozy in the corner all night.” Miroku said, waggling his brow suggestively.

“We weren’t ‘getting cozy’ you insufferable letch. He looked lonely and uncomfortable so I talked to him. That’s all. And he was nice.” She shrugged, and then the conversation died as Sesshomaru himself swept in.

He took the only seat open, the one next to her, and Kagome felt her heart twist as he simply sat and covered his face with his hands, ignoring everyone else as they chatted and cut up.

Enjoying time with her friends felt hollow with such a wounded soul sitting next to her, but she knew so little about Sesshomaru she worried she might cross some unnamed boundary.

She took a large gulp of her drink and laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

“Sesshomaru… are you alright?” She asked quietly, speaking soft enough to avoid getting the attention of her friends but loud enough that he would hear. After a long moment where she was sure he wouldn’t respond, he pulled his hands away from his face and slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out his cellphone and tapped the screen once, lighting up a photo of a cute, smiling little human girl with melting brown eyes.

She looked between him and the phone screen, unsure what he was trying to communicate, but certain it was connected to the cause of his dark mood.

“This is Rin.” He clarified, voice pitched low and for her ears only.

“She’s adorable.”

“Hn. She is my daughter.” He met her eyes, and the gold of his glowed firm and defensive.

Suddenly, everything made a lot of shocking sense.

“They don’t like that you’ve adopted a human, do they? Your family?”

“No. They do not.”

Pulling her purse off the back of her chair, Kagome retrieved her own phone. She scrolled through her pictures for just a moment, until she found just the one she was looking for: a grinning little Fox boy holding up a scribbly crayon drawing.

She tilted her screen over, and Sesshomaru leaned nearer to see.

“My son.” She said simply, and though his reaction was so subtle no one sitting any farther away from him than her would notice, Kagome thought she’d seen him sag in relief.

“We should get them together for a play date.” She suggested, and they exchanged numbers with plans to do just that.

————-

Rin and Shippo got along swimmingly, and, surprisingly, so did she and Sesshomaru. He’d grown comfortable enough with her that their conversation consisted of more than just her babbling at him and hoping he was listening. They shared their adoption stories, how they’d found their children and came to be their parents, the challenges that came with adopting children outside your species, he opened up about the backlash he’d faced from his family when he first brought Rin home, backlash he’d expected but hoped against hope he was wrong about.

“Once she warmed my heart and showed me the folly of clinging to the prejudices I’d been raised with, I reached out to Inuyasha in hopes of establishing a relationship with my only sibling. I’d never even met him before, as he and his mother were never allowed around the family before father died. Afterward, everyone acted as if neither ever existed. Likewise, Rin will never meet the rest of her relatives.”

Kagome watched the two children chase each other as they squealed with laughter. Uncomplicated fun between a yokai child and a human child. Completely different species, but alike enough to play.

“If she ever needs a grandmother, I’m certain my mama would take her right in. She’s loved getting to spoil Shippo.”

He smiled, small but true, and she went a little starry eyed at the beauty of it.

“Hn. I will keep it in mind.”

————

Play dates evolved into real dates, and though her friends teased them, they took it in stride. Quiet and controlled in public, Sesshomaru was soft and demonstrative with her in private. She’d never felt so secure in a relationship before, and the firm but nurturing hand he had with both children made them all feel safe.

They spent more time all together than apart, and soon life felt empty if they weren’t all together.

Sesshomaru occasionally came over with a dark cloud over his head after a particularly nasty clash with family, but she’d simply run her fingers through his hair until the knots of tension were soothed. He was a strong, yokai influence for Shippo to learn from; she was a tender human mother for Rin to thrive from, and when Sesshomaru asked if they could join their families together permanently, no question in her life had ever had an easier answer.

And no answer had ever had such drastic consequences.

News got out and around fast, and one night, less than a week after their joyous engagement, Sesshomaru and Rin showed up at her door with a suitcase each, and dour faces.

“We need a place to stay…. A place to live.”

“Oh my gods, come in both of you.”

They spoke nothing of it at first.

Kagome kept busy feeding the children, getting them bathed, and tucking them in together to giggle h see their covers before falling asleep.

As soon as their door was firmly shut, she sat at the table across from Sesshomaru and laced her fingers through his.

“I have been disowned and disinherited.”

Unsure what to say, Kagome simply squeezed his hand.

“They tolerated the fact that I’d adopted a human daughter, but they would not stand for me falling into my father’s footsteps and marrying a human woman. My choices were my standing in the family, or you.”

Tears filled her eyes as him being here could only mean one thing: he’d chosen her.

“Oh Sesshomaru. I’m so sorry.”

“As the house I resided in was family property I was no longer allowed to stay, and I was fired from my father’s company and stripped of all my rights to any part of it. I’m afraid I come here with nothing to offer you now.”

She stood and rushed around the table and into his arms, hunkering down into his strength, hopefully lending her own.

“Stop that. I don’t want anything but you and Rin. That’s all I need. I’m just so sorry you had to lose your home because of me.”

He rested his chin atop her head and let her scent calm him.

“My home.” He mused, looking around the tiny apartment he’d hoped to move her out of soon when they were able to merge their lives into one. It would be cramped with all four of them there full time, but it was already chock full of their memories. They would figure it out.

“My home stopped being a place when you entered my life, Kagome.”

She wept and he held her, one of the only treasures he had left in the world, while the other two slept soundly and happily in their bed.

#sesskag #sesskag fic #prompt requests #sesskag fanfic

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