#or also just bad management that is passed down

[bombuni]

Did.... did you say stuck-porn scenario San?? I'm gonna need that asap please👀 your writing is so yummylicious it's not even funny

rock & a hard place

summary: your roommate lends a helping hand. genre/pairing: roommate!san x fem!reader warnings: smut 18+ mdni, softdom!san x reader, unwanted creampie, kinda size kink, slight dubcon, so pls read with caution :) bom note: me writing jongho smut after jongho smut and forcing myself to write other member smut - i can’t put down the cup, i can’t put down the cup💔💔

You’re humiliated.

You’re not sure how you managed to fit your entire front half into the dryer, but the panic inside you is rising with every second that passes. The confined space of the machine is only making it worse as you try to fight your way out. Seriously, you swore this was only something that happens in porn.

You can’t even reach your phone. The last resort, the most embarrassing one, is to call your roommate.

Your voice is quiet at first, embarrassment shrouding your entirety. San is an understanding sweetheart, you know that, but he is unfortunately also one of the most handsome men you’ve seen. To have him seeing you like this, with practically naked in just your panties and bent over is what the kids call ‘an aura-loss.’

He comes running the second time you call for him, hearing the panic in your voice, “Are yo-ah.”

San covers his eyes at first, taken aback by the sight of your naked body. Even though you can’t see him gawking, he still feels too awkward to do it unashamedly. Your little plump ass is literally on display for him, in your adorable Hello Kitty patterned panties, and he can’t help it when his face sets on fire. Or when his shorts grow tight.

Hearing the realization in his voice only makes you want to disappear even more, “I’m so sorry, San, I was just getting my clothes. I don’t know how I got stuck.”

He’s still frozen in place and scared to touch you, “Don’t be sorry. I’m just-uhh. How do you want me to get you…out?”

San tries to psych himself up behind you, softly slapping himself as if that’ll get rid of his raging boner. He can’t rip his eyes away from your ass.

“Just-do what you need to, San.”

With your permission, San grabs your hips firmly. His hands send electrifying tingles throughout your body, but you have no choice but to ignore it. You don’t realize that San is fighting the same urge behind you, squeezing your hips and caressing your skin under the pretense that he’s finding a better grip. He never noticed how soft your skin is until now.

He pulls once, to no avail. The second time, he accidentally bumps against you with the force he uses. San mutters out a swear at the feeling, almost cumming right then and there. His hard-on isn’t helping, with every little inch he moves he’s in jeopardy of letting you know how hard he is.

But, he can’t help himself. You’re just so tempting, if anything it’s your fault for walking around like this. He rubs himself once on you, playing it off as an accidental touch, but he immediately needs more once he feels you. He’s dizzy with need, dizzy with you, and he just can’t resist the climbing urge he’s feeling to seize this opportunity you’ve presented him with.

San keens over, leaning onto the dryer in front of him, “Sh-shit,”

You feel him. You feel his desperate cock, his hot breath against your back, and the growing heat of his entire body. He feels your body shudder at the size of his bulge as it presses against you and he can’t help but think that maybe you want this just as bad as he does.

San tentatively inserts his fingers under the band of your panties, “Just-need better grip-hah-okay?”

“W-wait, San!”

He pulls your underwear off with one swift tug, groaning when he sees your slick glistening in the dim light. You’re shaking and he can’t help but find your little pathetic pleads adorable.

“You won’t get out of here until I help. So just let me help you, okay?”

He sounds so beautiful when he’s desperate and needy, and there’s really nothing you can do but submit to him. You don’t have time to react before you feel the cold metal of his rings rubbing through your folds. You hear his breathy moans as he continues exploring you, feel his shaky fingers trying their hardest to hold back. His other hand struggles to hurriedly get himself out of his sweatpants, already leaking and tip red with need. You suddenly feel San’s lips on the small of your back. A kind warning kiss, you fear, for what’s to come.

He whispers gently, as if trying not to scare you off, “You just can’t be walking around like this and expect not to be fucked, baby,”

The sound of his soft, gentle voice is like a key to your soul. You reply just as gently, “I know, Sannie, ‘m sorry…”

He drags his cock over your folds, surprising you. You can’t see what he’s doing, so every time he touches you it’s a complete shock to your senses. He seems to enjoy your little shivers and nervous shakes. He likes to see how vulnerable you are, how he’s in complete control of you and everything that’s happening to you. San keeps dragging himself between you, collecting your juices on himself.

He seems to drown in this feeling, swallowing every quiet whine you give and using it to fuel his domineering air, “Really, you did this on purpose-shit-just to get me to fuck your brains out. Why didn’t you just ask, dolly?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“So cute. Your little, wet pussy is dripping, baby. You like this, don’t you? You like it when I force you to get fucked?”

San doesn’t even give you the chance to respond before sliding his cock inside of you. He shushes you when you complain, holding your arms back and still so you don’t hurt yourself. Although he likes watching your little shakes of defiance, how adorably useless you are against him. He soothes you through the stretch of him, groaning alongside your whines as he feels you suck him in.

He bottoms out, whining as you clench around his length, “No, no, dolly, quit that. I’ll cum in your tiny pussy, we don’t want that, do we?”

You aggressively shake your head as San starts to fuck you, all caution thrown to the wind with his harsh thrusts. You’re embarrassed by your loud squelching, but you hardly have time to think about that with San’s length hitting practically every inch of your insides. His moans are adorably whiny, breathy as the barely-there restraint leaves his body and he fucks you with even more vigor. He’s spurred on by the feeling of your tiny body against his, your pathetic attempts of freeing yourself only adding to his pleasure.

“Hah-you’re so tight, sweetheart. I really can’t help myself, might have to claim you forever,”

“S-sannie, no, I said no-“

He’s rabid in his taking of you, holding your wrists tight as he grows closer to the edge, “Oh, god, you’re so cute, this tiny, little pussy’s gonna be mine forever-“

“San!”

San holds your hips tight, fingernails digging into your skin and moaning sweetly as he pulls you into him, his cum flowing freely inside you. He pulls so hard in the haze of his orgasm that your entire body falls back with the force and onto him.

He’s still in the throes of his orgasm, yelping as you fall onto him and he lands on the floor. It’s cold against his ass cheeks, and he’s blushing hard once the post-nut realization hits that he came so hard he managed to pop you out. San decides this is probably on his list of worst orgasms.

Your face is flushed as you turn to him, “That’s what you get for cumming inside.”

He has the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry…”

[p0orbaby]

Request😍: y/n and alessia or leah (you decide! find your tumblr side and aaalll the stories of them. It leads to jealous alessia/leah bc of y/n being with other girls (like getting jealous when your partner cheats in your dream). Reader has to handle the situation and in the end manages to make less/leah focus on all the fluffy/spicy stuff there is about them. If you want to make it smutty (what we all love hehe): they eventually get inspired by tumblr and choose another story (you can decide which of all the good alessia/leah x reader smut on here) to reenact. Thank you!!! (If you dont want to write this feel free to repost for another writer, also you can switch the roles who is jealous, i dont care:)

i amended this a little, pls don’t hate me

it would be harsh to call this a crack fic but i honestly giggled the whole time writing it 🤭

-

You find Alessia on the sofa, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen. At first, you think she’s watching one of those oddly specific TikToks she loves—something about cats playing table tennis or an American teenager ranking their favourite crisps. But then you notice the furrow in her brow, the way her teeth tug at her bottom lip. Her expression is equal parts confusion, disbelief, and mild offence.

“Everything alright?” you ask, setting your keys on the counter.

She doesn’t answer immediately, which is a bad sign. Alessia always greets you the moment you walk through the door, even if it’s just to ask what you’ve brought for dinner. Instead, she tilts the phone slightly so you can see the screen.

“Do you know about this?” she asks, voice clipped.

You lean over, squinting at the screen. The webpage is clunky, its layout straight out of 2012, and the title reads something absurd like ‘Sunlit Smiles and Shadowed Hearts’. Your name is prominently featured in the summary, alongside a few other recognisable ones.

“It’s fanfiction,” she says, answering the question you haven’t asked yet. “About you”

You blink. “About me?”

“And other people,” she adds, her tone sharp now, like the edge of a too-clean knife.

The penny drops. “Wait—what?”

She sits up straighter, turning the phone to face you fully. “Look. This one has you with… God, Tooney. And this one—oh, this is just brilliant—you’re married to Ona. Married! Like we’re just some passing fling”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, which, given her expression, would be a tactical error. Alessia doesn’t do jealousy often, but when she does, it’s like an overdramatic romcom villain plotting their revenge.

“Well,” you say carefully, “at least they’ve got good taste?”

“Good taste?” she repeats, incredulous. “One of these has you sneaking off with Mary behind my back during a post-match interview!”

“Creative, though,” you offer.

She glares at you, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her. “This isn’t funny”

“It’s a little funny,” you say, sitting down next to her.

“It’s not,” she insists, crossing her arms. “Do you know how many of these there are? And how many don’t have me in them at all? Like I’m just some side character in your life?”

You try to suppress the grin tugging at your lips, but it’s no use. “Less, you do realise this is all made up, right? None of it’s real”

She huffs, her cheeks pink now. “I know that. But still. It’s insulting”

You reach for her hand, gently uncrossing her arms. “Alright, let’s look at it this way. I’m obviously very popular. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when you’re popular with everyone except me”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure there’s stuff about us too. The fluffy, romantic, borderline inappropriate kind”

Alessia hesitates, her gaze flicking to the phone. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you say confidently. “Because we’re the superior couple. Clearly”

That earns a small smile, though she tries to hide it. “You’re an idiot”

“And yet, here I am, fully committed to proving my devotion,” you say, reaching for her phone. You type in a search, scrolling through pages until you find what you’re looking for. “See? Right here. This one’s about us”

She leans over, peering at the screen. Her eyes scan the words, and slowly, her frown starts to fade.

“This is… cute,” she admits reluctantly.

“Exactly,” you say, draping an arm around her shoulders. “So, no more being jealous of fictional versions of me, okay? They don’t get to go home with you. I do”

She turns to look at you, her expression softening further. “Fine. But I’m still not over the Mary thing”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Noted. I’ll make it up to you”

“You better,” she mumbles, but there’s no real bite to her words anymore.

It’s only later, as you’re cooking dinner together, that you catch her sneaking glances at her phone again, her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. If she’s reading more of those stories, you don’t mention it. Some battles are better left unpicked.

[prettybiching]

Helloooooooo my love. First of all, happy new year! (although it's coming a week late, sorry about that) I hope this year is filled with love and joy for you!!

Secondly, piggybacking off your last reblog, yes desi weddings are so elaborate ahhh!!! I loved the whole experience despite how exhausting and stressful it was as the sister of the bride. there's pre-wedding events, a week long wedding and then the post-wedding events so yeah nearly two months of dedicated wedding festivities lmfao but it was SOOO fun and I'm moving overseas in a few weeks so I definitely had a winter for the books.

NOWWWWWWW, I'm going to be honest, I couldn't help myself and I gave myself some sneak peeks from all the chapters uploaded because every time I get the notification I get SO excited and lemme just say - YOU COOKED AND I HAVE MASSIVE THOUGHTS

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

Oh god, breaking my heart already. Daemon, I can't stand you at times ughhhhhh. What will it take for my poor girl to not have to beg for someone to love her and be considerate to her.

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

This is either going to end horribly or wonderfully and I don't know how to feel about either.

...while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

GIRL NO!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE STOP TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF EVERY OTHER CHAPTER FOR THE SAKE OF MY WELLBEING

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

And there goes my heart again...I'm so mad at Daemon and the chapter has only just begun. I can't get over just how scared she is of telling Daemon about the baby because he will probably accuse her of incest (which would be so fucking ironic HAH) even though deep down he knows she never did any of that he's just emotionally constipated AS HELL. Even Caraxes is going to be done with his ass

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Alexa play "I Think He Knows" by Taylor Swift

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

😭😭😭 STOPPPPP PLEASE SPARE ME

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

Help, I know this is a deeply serious moment but I can't help but laugh at the fact that Arryk whipped out his sword to defend himself against CARAXES

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

OH MY GOD CARAXES CAN SENSE DAEMONS BABY IN HER TUMMY WE'VE GOT MEDIEVAL DNA TEST SOMEBODY GET DAEMON HERE

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

caraxes and reader's bestie arc better start NOW

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Oh my god Arryk stop tattling on my boy Caraxes like that. He was just trying to show some affection and protectiveness!!! It's not his fault that years of bonding with daemon also turned him a little dense and emotionally constipated like his master

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

The way I 100% believe that the foundation of the brothers' relationship is that daemon will ALWAYS do the exact opposite of viserys tells him so the fact that he told daemon to return to his lady wife, it will lead him to run as far away from her as possible (aka stepstones)

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

THIS SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO CRADLE MY HEAD IN MY HANDS AND WEEP BECAUSE WHAT THEY COULDVE BEEN IF DAEMON WASNT SO DENSE AND THICK AND STUPID AND UGHHHHHHH

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

you're so stupid

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

Daemon "I can never comprehend someone being genuinely concerned for me because I never had a mother, I don't remember my father's love and my brother was an even bigger emotionally constipated idiot who can't show me love so I'm going to mistake your love for you doubting my capabilities" targaryen

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

This is so tragic I've started crying again...

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS FUCKER TO RECEIVE THERAPY FROM BRAAVOS OR WHATEVER BECAUSE HIS UNRESOLVED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND THE LACK OF PARENTAL LOVE HE RECEIVED IS GOING TO DESTROY THE MC AND I CANNOT STAND FOR IT I WILL DIE

"because I love you."

and im dead. im gone.

"you are mistaken."

"I love you" "It'll pass"

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

FUCK YOU FUCK THE WHOLE TSRGARYEN DYNASTY YOU FILTHY LYING WHORE OF A DRAGON RIDER GO FUCK MYSARIA IN A WIG AND CALL OUT YOUR WIFES NAME AND TELL HER YOU WANT HER BECAUSE YOURE TOO SCARED TO SAY IT TO YOUR WIFE AND GO TO THE SHITTY STEPSTONES SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT UGLY LOOKING PIRATES FOR THREE WHOLE YEARS WITH SHITTY FOOD AND SHITTY WINE KJHGRRYVHBEBN LTLV

You nod, "I know."

Author, did you reach inside my brain and find the worst ways to hurt me? BECAUSE THIS HURTS OKAY

BUT IT ALSO FEELS SO GOOD??? WHYS THE ANGST YOU WRITE SO FUCKING GOOD??? IM IN LITERAL TEARS OVER THESE TWO, THE WAY DAEMON MADE HER BEG FOR HIM TO STAY AND IT WAS STILL NOT ENOUGH THE PARALLELS OF HER SAYING IT NEVER SERVES HER WELL ASKING SOMEONE TO STAY

If you're wondering how I'm doing at the end of this, then imagine this - IM IN TEARS and contemplating my existence. But I cannot atop praising you for how GOOD this chapter was. It hit right the spot. Thank youuuuu for yet another masterpiece <3

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[solxamber]

Heartslabyul, 1, Fluff

As a side note (This isn’t a second request I just got sudden brain worms!) all I can think about is Riddle with number six (I think?) with “Say that again” but like… As my mother with her violent hatred of Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas. She despises the song, and every year we reach a point where she band it until next Christmas. She prefers the Werewolf Boyfriend song. And now I’m imagining Riddle with ADuece playing it and him moments away from collaring them- I’m sorry if this was weird but now I’m trying not to die laughing while in a public place.

help?? that's so funny??? also your mom prefers the werewolf boyfriend song???? that's somehow funnier

A Kiss for Luck || Deuce Spade

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "Is that mistletoe?" ; Genre: Fluff

Deuce was, by all accounts, a terrible actor.

You’d noticed his plan from the moment the holiday party began. He’d linger by the mistletoe every chance he got, looking over at you and then away so quickly it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash.

“Hey, um… I think the punch tastes better over here.” He tugged at his tie nervously, gesturing toward a suspiciously decorated corner.

You squinted at the punch bowl. “Deuce, that’s eggnog.”

He froze. “Oh. Uh… yeah. My bad.” He quickly turned on his heel, nearly tripping over Cater, who laughed as he breezed past with a knowing grin.

You decided to let him sweat a little. Watching Deuce stumble over himself trying to orchestrate the perfect holiday moment was endearing in a way only he could manage.

As the evening wore on, you kept catching him in your periphery—standing near mistletoe, adjusting his sleeves, glancing your way, and failing miserably to look casual. You’d purposefully steer yourself in the opposite direction, enjoying his increasingly flustered expressions.

Finally, though, you decided to put him out of his misery.

Deuce was leaning awkwardly against the wall beneath one particularly prominent sprig of mistletoe, trying his best to look like he wasn’t standing there on purpose. He lit up when he saw you approaching, standing straighter and smoothing down his jacket.

“Oh! Hey!” he said, a little too loudly. “I didn’t see you there.”

You tilted your head up, feigning surprise. “Is that mistletoe?”

Deuce’s face turned a shade of red so deep it rivaled Riddle’s hair. “Uh, yeah. I mean, it’s tradition, right? You don’t have to, uh, if you don’t want to, of course! I just thought—”

Before he could ramble himself into oblivion, you leaned up and kissed him. It was soft and sweet, and when you pulled back, Deuce’s eyes were wide as saucers.

“I wanted to,” you said simply, unable to hide your smile.

Deuce’s shoulders relaxed, his expression shifting from shocked to relieved, then to something softer—something that made your stomach flip in a way nothing else could.

“I’ve been trying all night to make this happen,” he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“I know.” You laughed, reaching up to fix his tie. “You’re not exactly subtle, Spade.”

His ears turned red, but he smiled—a boyish, bashful grin that made you feel warm despite the winter chill. “Guess I don’t have to be anymore.”

He took your hand then, holding it with the kind of care that made you feel like the most important person in the room.

And as the party bustled on around you, Deuce looked down at you, his shy confidence growing with every passing second. “So… can I kiss you again?”

This time, you didn’t make him work for it.

Masterlist

[aggieharkness]

Forever and Always

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: No one warns you about how dark the abyss at the cliff's edge can be, how hard it would be to hold on to the rocks as they kept falling around you, the weight on your shoulders nearly too much for you. No one ever does, yet she never failed at saving you from dying under it all, her warm embrace like a protection spell.

Warnings: overworked reader, burnt out, screaming, swearing, self-harm. I don't think I need to add anything else here.

Authors note: I read your post @madamspellmans-met-tet and I thought of writing this. I hope that it is what you had in mind and that it helps your friend find comfort :) If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, I wouldn't want to write something hurtful. I hope you like it.

Forever and Always

Rereading the message that had popped up on your phone you just couldn’t believe it. The bright light shone inside the cabin of Lilia’s old car, which she allowed you to borrow so you could get to work and your classes, your eyes going over the words three times before you let your head fall onto the steering wheel nearly making the horn go off. You could feel the tension increasing in every single muscle of your body, the pressure that had been inside your sinuses and the dull nausea that you had carried all day suddenly feeling as if they could wipe you out, frustration filling up every cell down to atomic levels, but you just couldn’t let it pass, it had to be finished tonight, no matter what. Unlocking your phone, you answered Amanda and told her that it was fine, that you could finish her part of the project and send it before twelve tomorrow, but in your mind you were cursing her and her ancestors and her ancestors’ ancestors and beyond. You knew she wasn’t sick, a friend you had in common had told you that she was going down to a party in New York and she would stay there for like three days or so. You could have told her to go and fuck herself but she hadn’t done shit in the past month, and the project needed to be handed out the next day, so you had to stay up all night now, maybe even beg your teacher to let you hand in the assignment one day late and pray that he didn’t deduct points because of it. And on top of that you had to do a double shift down at the coffee shop tomorrow because one of the girls had to have emergency surgery after a skiing accident and you were even more short staffed.

Your fingers were twitching when you picked up your bag from the passenger’s seat, throwing it over your shoulder as you pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold night, your breath steaming up in puffs that twirled up in the air as you locked the car. Your body ached, every bone seemed to hurt, and your throat itched so bad that you had had like three gulps of cough syrups and at least one Tylenol about six hours ago to try and get rid of it, to no avail. Resting your back against the car you closed your eyes for a moment. You were not ready for the disappointed look that Lilia was going to give you the instant you stepped into the shop, but your manager had practically ordered you to lock up tonight and you had had to label also the new arrival of milks and cookies in the freezer, which turned the extra hour into two and a half. You had been supposed to get home at seven and it was now close to ten, and you had hardly been able to tell her that you were going to be late, just a single message that’s she had left on read. With a heavy sigh you crossed the street from the car to the front door, pulling out your keys and pushing the glass open until the warmth of the heating system embraced you, but it didn’t relax you as much as you had expected, you still felt as if you were absolutely freezing. Noises were coming from the back, the clutter of dishes you thought, stopping for a moment when the bell that hung from the ceiling rung melodiously before they returned, unbothered by your entrance it seemed.

In normal circumstances you would have thrown your bag next to the door, not giving two shits, but you needed the books and notes that you had in there, so with heavy steps you made your way to the beady curtain, gently moving it aside, finally arriving home. Lilia was washing the dishes, her back to you. Seeing her body moving as she scrubbed hard, her shoulders square and obviously tense as she worked you wondered if maybe she was mad at you, but there wasn’t really anything you could do when you had to stay late, it was that or unemployment, and you needed the money to pay for college, so there really was no reason why she should be angry. At least you had bothered to warn her this time. But even if she was pissed at you she was far too alluring, and your eyes could not stop watching the way those veiny hands held onto the sponge and plate hard, knuckles nearly white, the way her gown held onto her curves gently as her robe had been discarded over the back of a chair, the flowy material swaying around her bare feet as she rinsed and left the plate on the drying rack. In the air a salty smell lingered, your stomach rumbling at it but the nausea that was still clinging to your insides seeming to disagree with how hungry you felt, the thought of food both appealing and at the same time a horrible idea, though your train of thought derailed when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, the quiet moment you were having shattered. Fucking Amanda again you saw, a new text telling you that she was very sorry and that she would make it up to you which you knew was bullshit, followed by a new message saying that Tom, another person you were doing this assignment with, could not finish his part either as he was sick with the same thing she had. Was that code for I’m taking him to New York to fuck him? She had to be kidding.

You were quick to respond, eyebrows furrowed as you typed an answer, telling her that you weren’t sure if you could handle it all, but she retorted that Tom would end up in the hospital if he did any work. Was she for real? Did she think you lived under a fucking rock or something, that you didn’t talk to people? Apparently so, because she finished by saying that she was going to be sick from all that talking and went offline. You hadn’t noticed how Lilia had turned around and was staring at you, drying her hands with a tea towel, the frown that had adorned her forehead turning into worry when she saw your pissed off face as you furiously typed. She hadn’t noticed how pale you were looking, or how deep the bags under your eyes were, but then again you applied so much make up in the morning that it was nearly impossible for her to have noticed when she woke up, perhaps five minutes before you were due to leave for work. She had seen you sick several times in all the time you had been together, but she had never seen you look so run down before, and that worried her. The frustration you were feeling was reaching a breaking point, but you could not afford a bad mark to taint your record, you needed to be a straight A student otherwise you would not get scholarships to investigate, just like you had always dreamt of, you had to push through. You would rest when all this was over, you thought, a little white lie that you had been telling yourself for years now.

Dumping your bag on the kitchen table you hadn’t even looked up to meet Lilia’s eyes, you were far too focused on getting the work done before you collapsed, pulling out several thick books you had borrowed from the library along with the close to four hundred pages worth of notes you had been taking since the beginning of the year, photocopies, schemes and drawings included. Lilia had not moved from her spot, not even an inch, her head following your frame as you headed for the drawers next to the TV and pulled out an old laptop you had been gifted like three years ago, turning back to the table only to lock eyes with her. She looked so beautiful tonight, why did she look so pretty? It wasn’t your anniversary or her birthday, maybe it wasn’t a special occasion, maybe she looked like that always and you had only noticed now, after not having properly looked at her in over a week. There was pang of guilt in your heart, but you couldn’t waste more time, and yet breaking her gaze was such a hard task, she seemed to be pulling you into her arms simply by raising her eyebrows ever so slightly, almost in a questioning manner, but you looked away and sat down. You were actively avoiding talking to her? She felt as if you were pushing her aside, away from you with this behaviour, hurt and anger mingling in her chest, fury glazing her vision as she bent to open the oven. It took the computer a few minutes to unlock, but once the wallpaper and icons were staring back at you, a picture of you and Lilia during a weekend trip to the Grand Canyon, you quickly clicked on the Word document titled “Ontogeny in Ammonoids”, the twenty pages you had written greeting you.

You loved your degree, but you hated it at the same time, scrolling through the pictures and diagrams you had both taken from books and done yourself with the information collected and provided by your teacher. You had loved it when you had first started it, but now you had to add at least twenty more pages, and you didn’t even know where to begin, your head resting on your hands for an instant, closing your eyes as you felt a heavy headache forming. What were you supposed to write? God, you had no fucking clue what their parts were, it was as if your brain had turned to sudden mush and you could not even comprehend a basic sentence, let alone carry on with this bloody project. Suddenly there was a loud bang right next to the computer, your head jerking up so fast that a whipping feeling hit your neck, rendering you immobile for a few moments, eyes looking at an oven tray that had landed on top of your notes, the dark sauce of a rotisserie chicken splattered over the words, staining and making some of the ink run.

-Lilia! What the hell?! – you pushed the tray hurriedly to the side, inspecting the damage done as anger rose in your veins. Looking up briefly at her you saw an angry smirk on her lips, hands on her hips. So now she wanted to be a bitch, great, as if you needed more people testing your patience.

-Oh, you are home, I didn’t see you there.

-What the fuck?!

-Don’t curse at me Y/N!

-What the hell do you expect when you’ve ruined my notes?!

-I expect you to look at me when you come home, for you to give me an explanation as to why you its ten and you’ve just only arrived!

-I can’t say no to my manager Lilia, you know this! – some of the words were unintelligible, impossible to fix unless you redid the entire page, front and back, anger spiking to the point that you feared anything at all could make it burst. And to top it all you were wasting time! You had deadlines and you need to be at the coffee shop at seven! You were going to have to pull an all-nighter– Fuck, I’m going to have to redo this.

-As if you do anything else.

You glared up at her, but the anger subsided when suddenly you had a coughing fit, turning your face away from her and covering your mouth with your hand. Lilia had turned around at the speed of light upon hearing you, bending her body over the kitchen table to check on you, worry painting her features. All the fight had left your body after that, the exhaustion slamming onto your body without mercy, as you let it fall back onto the chair. Lilia was still upset with you, but after what she had just seen it was obvious that you weren’t just tired, no, you were getting sick, and yet you turned your attention back to the computer, sighing deeply when you looked at your notes and then back at the screen. She felt quite guilty about what she had done, thinking that perhaps it had been rather childish form her part, so in an attempt to fix it she moved the tray away to plate some of the chicken along with the sauce, putting it aside while she went to grab a glass of water, adding a bit of lemon and a hint of honey, a little remedy she had been using for centuries now. Once that was done, she turned and rounded one of the corners of the table to sit on the only chair that laid facing you, but your eyes were glued to the screen, typing and then deleting only to type again, and you still didn’t like what you were writing. The touch of Lilia’s soft skin on your hand made you pause, turning your blurry eyes in her direction. Maybe you had been rude, but you had spent a lot of time working on those notes, rewriting them would take a couple of hours for sure.

-Tell me the truth Y/N, are you okay?

-I’m fine, I’m just tired.

-I’ve seen you tired, and you are never like this.

-I’m sorry, but what you did was really shitty.

-I know, I’m sorry. I was angry; you’ve never come home like this, without even saying a word. Maybe you need to stop and sleep.

-I would love to, but I can’t. Amanda and Tom bailed on me, and we have to upload this to the net tomorrow and there’s so much work left.

-Can’t you talk with your teacher, get an extension?

-He’s an ass, he won’t do it, he doesn’t care. I just need to finish this, Lilia. I promise I’ll rest when I’m done.

-I’m giving you one hour, if you are not done in an hour, I’m sorry, but you are not finishing it, I’m dragging you to bed.

-Fine. Just… let me get on with it.

-Alright. You have dinner behind your computer, and don’t tell me that you are not hungry because I know that you haven’t had a bite to eat since lunch time, if you’ve had lunch. Just eat, okay?

You nodded without much effort, knowing perfectly well that you were not really going to have much of the chicken, but you did grab the water, the warm liquid soothing your sore throat slightly. Lilia could feel the way you were melting, the way your resolution was slipping, but she also knew that you were not going to really stop, you were unable to, she had to let you get to a certain point, she just hoped that she didn’t accidentally let you go past said point. With a quiet sigh she stood and kissed your forehead, heading back to tidy the dishes and clean the sink as you poured yourself back into the assignment. Word after word you seemed to be filling up pages, adding pictures and moving in between the text and the references, but your body was giving up on you. You could feel the way your fingers were heavy over the keyboard, how your eyesight was becoming blurry, the paragraphs you had written dancing before you, coughing every few minutes into the crook of your elbow and yet you did not stop, you couldn’t stop. Lilia’s alarms were going off every time she heard you, but she had promised you an hour, though it was becoming harder and harder to keep her promise when her eyes could see from her spot on the couch how you were getting progressively worse, to the point that half of your precious notes had slipped down to the floor and you hadn’t even noticed.

She should have stopped you then, a mistake from her part, she had simply thought it a slip up, but when she heard you curse under your breath and beginning to delete like a maniac, a frustrated huff escaping your lips before you banged your head on the kitchen table, she knew she had stop you right away.  It had not even been thirty minutes, but she just couldn’t let you carry on, pushing herself off the couch and walking towards your spot with quick steps. The wood dug onto your forehead, but you didn’t care about it much, not when you had spent three whole pages writing about the wrong group of cephalopods and your whole head throbbed as your headache worsened, a pulsating feeling behind your eyes that increased the pressure on your sinuses as well. You felt like utter shit, actually that might not even cover it, your face squashed against the table, your arms hanging from your sides like ropes that seemed to weight as if they were lead, so heavy that you just couldn’t lift them back onto the table. Sitting once again on the chair that was facing you, Lilia took your face in between her hands and pushed you up until you were resting against the back of the chair, cradling your cheeks, noticing that your eyes were glassy, your face slightly clammy to the touch, cheeks blushing but it wasn’t due to something cheeky she had said, no, Lilia could feel how hot your skin felt against her palm. That’s it, she thought.

-You are done, darling. – her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, but it boomed against the bones of your skull.

-What? No, I still have at least six other points that I need to address.

-I don’t care Y/N. You are sick, you need to sleep.

-No, I don’t! – you pushed her touch from you, missing the coolness of her hands against your skin the instant they left you even though they were still holding onto your hands, fingers intertwined, but you needed to carry on. She had said an hour, and it had only been twenty minutes, you could push through, you could do it. – I need to get this done or I will fail.

-Then fail.

-What? – there was the anger again, rising and bubbling inside your chest as you pushed her hands off your body completely, sitting properly back in front of the computer while still looking at Lilia utterly dumbfounded at her words. - You know how important this is for me!

-Yes, but I’m not going to let it practically kill you!

-Wow, that’s just being overdramatic, don’t you think?

-Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?! You are two seconds away from collapsing on me Y/N!

-I’m perfectly fine, I’m just tired! Honestly, I make a mistake and get frustrated and suddenly I’m an instant away from laying in a coffin?!

-If you don’t stop you might! Just leave it, it’s not that important Y/N.

-It might not be to you! Can’t you understand that if I finish this and I get an A I will have a perfect record?! I will get scholarships and job offers!

-So some job in a boring office is more important than your health?!

-Don’t act so surprised, as if you didn’t know that I’ve done it before. I will rest when I’m done, so please Lilia, let me finish the fucking thing!

-Don’t curse Y/N. And no, you are very much done. – without warning she closed up the laptop and grabbed it, your hands far too slow to hold on to it before she could actually remove it from the table, the thick book you had resting next to it closing with a loud thud. She had stood and moved away from the kitchen area into the living room, rounding the couch and muttering something under her breath so that an instant later two thick yellow chains appeared wrapping themselves around the computer, letting it rest on top of the coffee table. She had to be fucking kidding; you thought she would understand! Lifting yourself from the chair had been a harder task than you had anticipated, the world around you faintly, but you still stood on slightly shaky legs and headed her way, fury seeping from every pore in your body as you knelt over the carpet.

-Don’t play with me Lilia! Open it!

-No. I don’t like using my magic like this, but if it’s the only way to get you stop, I will.

-DON’T DO THIS TO ME LILIA! OPEN IT!

-Don’t scream at me! I won’t tolerate it! I’m doing this for your own good.

-Please Lilia, I need to finish this, please!

-I’m sorry, I can’t.

-You are such a bitch!

-Excuse me?!

-You heard me! You are being a bitch! – the temperature in the room was absolutely scorching, your jacket coming off, your hands throwing it onto the couch without you even noticing, as if your movements were on autopilot, nails trying to pry the laptop open, but it didn’t do any good, it was perfectly shut. In anger you turned your head to look at her, tears stinging your eyes. - What do you want?! All my attention, that’s why you are trying to ruin my life?!

-NO! Can’t you see what all this is doing to you?! I want you to stop killing yourself! You don’t deserve it Y/N.

-I’m doing what I’ve always done, Lilia, I can’t afford a slip up like this!

-And I can’t let you carry on. You need to stop, you are sick, you’ve overworked yourself so much that you’ve made yourself sick. Why can’t you understand that?

-Why can’t YOU understand that if I can’t stop! I’ve never stopped, I don’t know how to!

The tears were running down your cheeks now, burning your skin as if they were molten lava, leaving streaks on your clammy flesh as they fell drop by drop onto your lap, your hands letting go of the laptop in defeat as your body dropped onto the carpet, back resting on the couch. How did one stop, how could anyone stop what they’ve only known for their entire life? You had never done anything but work and study, you had never simply sat down to do nothing for whole weeks at a time, there was always some shift at the coffee shop, some assignment, some presentation that needed to be done for the next day. You only knew how to work yourself down to the bone and beyond and you knew that it was reaching a breaking point, but you just didn’t know what to do. Lilia saw you crumbling in front of her eyes, rushing and kneeling next to you to gather your shaking frame in her arms, swaying back and forth in a soothing motion. She had expected this to happen since she had seen you come in, and yet she felt so unprepared, unsure of what to say but if there was one thing she was sure about was that you needed her, and she would be there. Her eyes were looking at nothing, zoned out as every fibre of her being concentrated on you and the way your tears soaked her dress, your face pressed against her chest.

She might have been rude, cruel even, but you needed to hear it, needed to realise just how fucked up it was for people to overwork you like this, until you were so burnt out that you couldn’t even keep your immune system healthy and strong. You could not help being like this, doing the only thing you knew, but that didn’t mean Lilia could not help you see beyond, after all that was her thing as a divination witch. Looking down at you she could not help noticing some purple marks that painted the skin of your forearms, squinting to try and get a better look, distinguishing the blistered skin and burnt flesh surrounding each circular mark. They didn’t seem to be fresh, as if they had happened today or the day before, but they were certainly not old wounds. Carefully she pushed you away from her body, your eyes blinking through the tears in confusion, feeling how she took your wrist gently with one hand and pushed your sleeve up so she could take a better look. Oh, crap, you had totally forgotten about them.

-Y/N? – you turned your head towards the floor, unable to hold her gaze, those deep eyes watching you with worry, but she took hold of your chin and tenderly lifted your head. – What happened?

-I swear I didn’t do it on purpose… the first time. – you felt so ashamed about it all, how had you let your life become this… this sea of torment just to get the life you thought you were supposed to have. This wasn’t the way to do it, it couldn’t be. Your hand had travelled up to your mouth out of its on accord, the nail of your thumb in between your teeth as if the motion could make you feel less of the embarrassment that was coursing through your limbs. – I was at the shop, and I bumped into Jerry out in the terrace and his cigarette hit my arm. It was an accident but then… I bought a packet and… did it myself.

-You’ve been hurting yourself? Why?

-I… I’m not sure. When Jerry’s cigarette hit my skin, I felt… something and…

-And what?

-The pain somehow helped me push through, carry on with everything. I wanted that. I needed it.

-Darling.

-I know what you are going to say. I should have been more careful; I shouldn’t have continued.

-No, love, you should have asked for help.

-Help?

-All this is too much for you, you can’t do it all, you are only human.  – it was so tenderly the way she cradled your face in her hands again, her fingers twirling your hair in between them as her thumbs wiped the tears that were still falling. -You can’t hurt yourself so that the adrenaline helps you carry on. You can’t hide the exhaustion and the frustration behind a veil of pain Y/N.

-How do I stop Lilia?

-By saying no. People take advantage of you, they think that since you are efficient, they can simply tell you to do it all, but you can’t let them do that. Learning how to say no will help you in the long run, trust me.

-So, I simply fail?

-You tell your teacher what happened and if he doesn’t like it, I will personally talk with him and request an extension. But it won’t be tomorrow; I was not kidding when I said that you were sick, you are running a temperature, darling. You are closing your books for today and going to sleep.

-And work? I have a double shift tomorrow.

-You’ve got sick days, use them. Let me carry what you can’t, Y/N.

She always knew what to say, what to do to make you feel like the world wasn’t crushing you under its weight when you very much felt as if it were, and with your hands holding onto the neckline of her gown you pushed yourself against her chest to hide your tears back into the warmth of her soft bosom. You had wanted nothing more than to cross the threshold of the beady curtain and let your exhausted body fall into her embrace, the silence of the room broken only by her sweet words, whispered lovingly in your ear as you both fell on the couch, the coolness of her skin comforting the tears that had gathered in your eyes. Those same tears that you were now crying as you let your walls crumble around you. Lilia wrapped her arms around your form, letting you break, fall apart. You had been holding on for far too long, you had been dangling from the top of a building with only on finger to keep you there for years now, you had to let yourself fall, you had to let your body step away from all that was destroying you and simply feel gravity pulling you down onto the ground, because once you reached it there would be no blood, no bones breaking over the pavement, only the soft gentle touch of Lilia keeping you safe and nestle in her arms. Both of you swayed back and forth on the floor, the carpet digging on Lilia’s knees, but she would not move, not until you were ready, and by the way you were holding onto her it would be a long time before she would part from you. With a kiss to the top of your head she pressed her cheek to your soft locks, her fingers rubbing your back and drawing lazy patterns over your t-shirt.

-Promise me one thing Y/N.

-What? – your voice was muffled by her chest, the vibrations reverberating through her body, but she still understood you, a small smile painting her lips for a moment.

-You will never hurt yourself again.

-I promise.

-And please, if you need help, if you need me, tell me. I’m always here for you, darling. Always.

[twst-drabbles]

I love sanctuary au, so maybe if this request is okay something sweet with riddle trying to comfort caretaker after their hands and body shakes from lack of nicotine

Riddle 19

Summary: While experiencing the worst of your nicotine withdrawals, you attend a tea party Riddle's having.

(Tis slow, but I thiiiink I'm starting to shed off the rust off my writing. It's been pretty bad. Hate how stiff my writing's been lately. I need to read more. Also I'll probably be just putting the drabbles in the ask directly just so I don't flood my tumblr blog with more posts. I want it clean-ish.)

You knew this would be a bitch of a habit to break. Throwing away the pack was just about the easiest thing you could do, especially when you had a promise to keep to just about everyone here, but that's about the end of it. Two days have passed, and you wanted nothing more than to dig your nails into your skin just to cast off this growing irritation.

However, as much as you wanted to wallow in bed surrounded by snacks, you did agree to have tea with Riddle.

And now here you are, suffering under the light of the afternoon sun. The little rosebush hedgehogs Riddle made are cute at least, but man are they sharp.

Your tea cup shakily clinked and no matter how you concentrated, no matter how hard you clenched your jaw and stiffened your shoulders, your body craved for another drag. What was once a simple itch became a full body craving, and now you can't stop yourself from shaking, your nerves screaming in frustrated impatience. You can't even keep your legs still.

Tea. You're supposed to be having a nice spot of tea, relaxing and enjoying yourself. Just get your hands still and drink from the cup before you make a fool of yourself and spill it everywhere.

"--and although the painting was subpar, Ace and Deuce did manage to paint all of the white roses red… Caretaker, are you listening?"

You didn't mean to slam down your cup, but that's what ended up happening anyway. Tea sloshed out of the cup and overflowed your saucer. Great, just great, a stain on this nice tablecloth.

"Sorry, I'm just… just hungry." Hungry, plagued by cravings and stalked by a headache just waiting to bite down on your gray matter. Among other things, like your shitty sleep schedule.

You let go and snatched a clean napkin. Furiously, you wiped your hands. Maybe if you scrubbed hard enough, irritate your skin enough, your mind can finally focus and stop wandering back to the store for your next pack of cigs.

Before you could rub your stinging hands raw, a thin root snatched the napkin right out of your hand, and snuggled a delicate rose bud between your fingers, free of thorns.

Riddle didn't turn to you, his sight off to the distance, as if to give you privacy. "Here."

"Huh." The small little thing blossomed into a rose with sparkling pop. Your nose itched but managed to stop yourself from sneezing.

"It's indestructible, no matter how you handle it, it won't rip or tear. As much as I want to, seeing as I'm also suffering from a similar ailment, I can't make anything you can consume. So, this is the most I can do." Riddle sighed, the slightest bit of frustration leaking out, but not enough to be concerning for you.

Right, right. Well, at least the vibrancy of his red petal body has returned. He looked more graceful than ever, but the fragile and brittle edges of his fingers don't escape your notice. And neither do the dull coloring within the joints of his body.

But you don't point them out, especially not when you're worse for wear. Time will pass and this will, hopefully, resolve itself. You just have to endure it.

"…thanks." The petals were rubbery. You squeezed as tightly as you could, popping the dewy beads within. The scent they released was nice. Helped with your head a little.

"You're welcome." Riddle closed his eyes, "Can you finish your tea? Otherwise I'll have to punish you according to the rules."

"Have you taken your nutrition drink yet, Riddle? Otherwise, I'll have to force you to take it."

"…I suppose I can't punish you if I don't see your crime."

"Good Roseling."

[unfortunatelyphoenix]

Ok, so I know that the GIW base got blown to smithereens but if they really are a part of the government then there is probably at least 1 in each state, meaning Danny isn't as safe as he first thought and that brings in so much potential angst. So ima give a small prompt/scenario to the people who actually know what's going on in these fandoms other than the odd episode or two that they watched when they were still a kid.

The GIW that were stationed in New Jersey had recently gotten a very strong reading from the city of Gotham, and while the place usually has a lower reading thanks to what's constantly happening in that hell city this is way more than normal, so they go and investigate it. This team likely hasn't heard of Phantom before, and if they did they think he died in the explosion, so when they go to investigate and inevitably find Trickster during the night they think that he's a new ghost harassing the living and causing problems. Danny on the other hand is scared shit-less when he sees this group of GIW and immediately freaks out, having thought he had gotten rid of them or at least away from them when he set the bomb off, so he immediately goes to flee in terror. As he was fleeing them though one of the agents managed to hit him in the abdomen with one of their weapons, and while not a direct hit it's still really bad. Like it's causing him unimaginable pain and making his powers freak out badly, so he is crying as he holds his bleeding stomach as he desperately tries to get away from these guys.

Eventually, at some point of him fleeing, he runs into another rogue somehow, maybe he runs into Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy or something idk. But what matters is that this kid, who has never shown anything goofy kindness, even in the few rogue fights he's been in (and those are more so just bickering or him being a lighthearted prankster), is crying and absolutely terrified with a horrendous injury to his abdomen that's somehow causing his powers to freak out. Whoever found him knows this couldn't have been one of the bats or birds since they wouldn't hurt a rogue this bad, so they assume it to be another rogue (probably Joker or someone of the like) and go to beat them up cuz no one attack The Friendliest Rogue(™) but instead of it being a rogue it's a group of government agents from out of town, immediately making them more pissed off. So they quickly deal with the threat before going back to focusing on Trickster to try and help him while also somehow passing word on to the other more decent rogues to keep an eye out for any government issues who are in white because they tried to murder the Golden Retriever Puppy (Danny) and eventually this gets into the greater public and now everyone hates the GIW, because while Trickster maybe strangely friendly he is a Gothamite through and through and nobody messes with one of their own.

As this is going down the rogue(s) who found him are attempting to help heal this poor guy who is absolutely terrified and in an unbearable amount of pain and learn a couple things.

1. This is a literal child.

2. He has a ton of scars, especially lichtenberg scars.

3. He has a very bad history with this specific group of government people and is absolutely terrified of being dissected by them.

4. He wasn't born with his powers and misses his parents (probably mumbled this one in his sleep or when he was in too much pain to think straight).

This ends up leading to the conclusion that Trickster was likely kidnapped as a small child by the government and experimented on him. This makes everyone even MORE pissed and ready to throw down with these assholes.

GOTHAM'S NEW ROGUE 3

-An hour before-

Danny is hatching a new plan today. Usually, he goes after the rogues who decide to make a spectacle or show for the public. But today, he will be the one to make it.

As all the devices are put together, Danny readies himself to turn on the screen. Lightly slapping his cheeks a few times Danny brace himself for his first solo stream.

*Live On*

Trickster: Well hello everyone! Isn't today unusually too peaceful. With all the rogues in Arkham and no one for me to bother, I decided to do the most out of my time.

Danny walks to a big hulking machine under wraps by a big piece of cloth. Danny pulls the cloth revealing a big machinery that has a giant clock in the middle.

Trickster: Over here I have my latest invention. I realized that people in this city really love coffee so what I do is make a machine that will spread gasses of caffeine into the air for people to consume via breathing. I even make sure that the special caffeine concoction wouldn't affect children because if I know one thing, it is that children with caffeine are scarier than any rogue.

Danny walks to the panel with a comically large red button with the word 'start' on it right under the clock.

Trickster: Now, when I click this button, it will turn on the timer, which is 30 minutes by the way, and when it runs out, the machine will release the caffeine into the air making everyone unable to sleep for one whole day. What is the effect on the city you may ask? I honestly don't know. But it will be funny if tomorrow everyone just drops dead asleep on the ground at work tomorrow.

Danny suddenly stops talking and slams the button heavily.

Trickster: Anyway, the timer starts now. Come find me if you wanna stop it.

Danny then leaves the screen and lets the camera focus on the clock as it ticks down. Danny sits on a nearby table and continues tinkering with his new special glitter bomb.

It's been 30 minutes when suddenly a window is broken and comes in Batman in all his glory. Except what Batman sees isn't the machine or even Trickster. It is a maze full of what he deems as traps laying around. Batman carefully trudges through the maze as he skillfully disarms the traps that are laid on the ground.

It takes Batman a whole 25 minutes to finally pass the maze before he finally sees the machine without Trickster anywhere in sight. He slowly and vigilantly approaches the machine and sees a small blue button with the word 'stop' right beside the red button.

If Batman had more time, he wouldn't have done anything rash but right now he doesn't have the time nor the ability to safely disarm the machine without making any mistake.

He pushes the button and the clock stops right then and there. He stares at his surrounding vigilantly expecting an ambush. And he is not wrong. There is indeed an ambush. Just not a normal ambush.

The machine that has stopped moving suddenly begins to shake heavily and Batman immediately jumps back to distance himself from whatever the machine is about to do.

Except when he lands, an ice forms under his legs trapping him and he tries to break the ice but the ice is very hard and impossible for him to break immediately at least. He is going to request for backups when the machine turns into tiny robots that start to surround him. He tries to smash all of them but not only are they strong and durable, EMP bombs also don't work on them.

After struggling for a while, some of the robots finally climb their way onto his head. One of them hangs from his mask and releases a gas from its mouth. Batman starts to lose consciousness and just as he is about to pass out Trickster appears in front of him.

Danny looks at Batman and orders his robots to tie him upside down, while rummages through his belt. Danny pulls out a lot of things from smoke bomb that accidentally explodes when Danny throws them to a bat shark repellent? What the hell? Anyway, after going through his belt for a while he finally found his target.

The Batwallet.

Danny turns to the hidden camera and starts to monologue.

Trickster: Hello hello everyone. Today, we have a very special guest. Presenting to you an unconscious Batman! And right here I have the strongest weapon in the world. The Batwallet! Hahahahaha.

Trickster: Now, you might be thinking. What is so strong about the wallet? And that my dear friend is the reason I am here today. Let's take a look at what's inside shall we.

Danny pulls out a black card with a bat symbol in the middle of it. Showing it to the camera, Danny gives out the biggest smile he can (somehow).

Trickster: This is the Bat credit card. I know. Sounds stupid. But you know what isn't stupid. The limit on this card. There is no limit. That means I can buy whatever I want with this.

Danny then pulls out a few polaroid pictures from the wallet that catches his attention.

Trickster: What's this? The bats secret identity? Boring. Why would I need to know who they are? Wait. This one is funny. Is this little Nightwing? Hahahaha. He's so little. *Gasp* Little Red Hood. Aww schmuck. I wanna share this with someone. I'm keeping this. I'm sure Batman has backup of these pictures.

Danny then phases the card and the photos into his body and picks up the camera.

Trickster: All right. That's it for today's stream. Oh yeah. We are in the warehouse south of the Bowery. I will shoot a flare after this for you to come get Batman. Well, you better come fast or other people will come for him.

After that the stream is cut off and a flare is shot from one of the warehouses in the Bowery. When the Bats arrived, all that was left was an unconscious Batman, tied up from the ceiling with his belt on the ground.

While the bats are busy extracting Batman back to the cave, Danny is having a feast at the Batburger. On his table, there are 50 sets of burgers, fries and cokes (the soda). Along with his food, he has pretty much paid all the food for everyone inside the Batburger. People were pretty on the fence when he first entered, but Gothamite being Gothamite, they readily accepted him when he paid for their food.

While Danny is busy eating, a big buff guy in a suit approaches him with his own food.

???: Good evening, Mr. Trickster. May I eat with you?

[alons-ycreeper]

Because it's been rotting in my brain and it's canonical that a version of this world exists in the franchise I bring you this

BBC Merlin x Witcher

- When King Uther is saved from a griffin attack by a passing witcher from the school of the Bear, the witcher calls upon the Law of Surprise: the first news he receives when he arrives home. It is then that the Court Physician, Gauis, comes out to tell the king that his wife, Yrgraine, has passed in childbirth but his son Arthur is in good health. The Bear witcher looks to the king and tells him that in six years time he'll return for the boy. Six year pass and despite Uther's best efforts to save his only son and heir the witcher still manages to come for him. With the loss of his son Uther banned the Law of Surprise and all witchers from entering Camelot.

- Arthur undergoes the Trial of the Grasses with fellow children of surprise: Gwaine and Lancelot. Arthur seems unaffected by the Grasses so he's given a second round which was more painful than the first leading to his hair falling out and coming back in platinum blond. He grows to be the most skilled swordsman the school has to offer making him efficient in each kill. However, he is unable to use witcher signs and his potion brewing skills could use some work. Aside from that, Arthur quickly becomes the most sought after witcher in Albion.

- When Arthur is twenty-one he gets a contract in Camelot, a request from the king himself. At this point more than witchers and the Law of Surprise have been banned from these lands. Magic has also been prohibited unless it is used for healing and even that has strict rules to it. The king asks him to kill a dragon in one of the nearby caves. Arthur laughs stating that killing a dragon is strictly against his own code. Seeing himself out Arthur is soon stopped by Princess Morgana, who doubles as her father's court sorceress. She brings him another contract this time in aid of the dragon. She tells him her close friend and son of the Chief Dragonlord, Merlin Wyllt, is in need of protection for the Great Dragon's egg. Arthur agrees and sets out to meet this Merlin.

- Turns out Merlin just happens to be the legendary Emrys, Son of Eart Sky and Sea, Magic itself. A bit intimidating especially for someone who's at least two years younger than Arthur himself. Merlin is an interesting person. For someone so incredibly kind and down-to-earth, he's rather feisty and a bit mischievous. The way he makes Arthur feel dizzy isn't entirely unwelcome. When the threat to the egg has passed and Merlin is returned safely to his Dragonlord clan in the tiny village of Ealdor, Arthur is asked by the younger to stay and watch the egg hatch. Honored, Arthur agrees and is awestruck by the newly hatched Aithusa.

- Arthur is on the outskirts of the village when Merlin comes running up to him, pack in on hand and horse's bridel in the other. The witcher doesn't even try to object, just laughs as he saddles his own horse as they ride off together towards Camelot.

- By the end the king believes Arthur has slain the beast and dubs him knighthood, thus making him Arthur of Camelot the only witcher allowed into the kingdom. The years following the dragon hunt see Arthur frequent Camelot often for its monsters. The king seems to become more and more familiar with the witcher as does the princess though Arthur would call her more a friend than Uther. There's something about the old king that feels off to Arthur not necessarily in a bad way but not in a good way either.

- It's during the year Arthur claims his child surprise, Mordred, a young druid boy, and Merlin has been traveling with him for a few years. Merlin has received news from Morgana that she's run away from home to a druid tribe not far from them. They plan to go meet her when they find themselves surrounded by Camelot knights. Leon, their leader, apologizes for the ambush but the king wants Arthur in Camelot immediately.

- Uther tells Arthur he's his son. It all makes sense why the king became so adamant that Arthur stay long after hunts. Now with Morgana having gone rouge Camelot needs an heir, its true heir. Arthur refuses but before he can escape Uther has him imprisoned. Merlin and Mordred managed to get out, running into the nearby forest. Merlin, frantic, goes in search of Gwaine and Lancelot, Arthur's brothers. Mordred, however, calls out to the druids. They answer.

Merlin: You knew. This whole time you knew.

Morgana: Merlin, listen please–

Merlin: How could you lie to him like that? He's your brother, your flesh and blood brother!

Morgana: What good would telling him have done, huh? Already a witcher for longer than he was human. He didn't suit this life not anymore.

Morgana: I know I haven't been a good sister, Merlin. But believe me I love my brother very much. I sobbed myself to sleep the night the witcher came for him. I prayed to the triple goddess every night to bring him back. And when I saw him again all I wanted to do was hold him like I did when he was a baby.

Merlin: Save me your tears. I don't have time for this.

Morgana: Uther trapped me, controlled me. You think he won't trap Arthur as well?

Merlin: He already has. That's why I'm going for help.

- Merlin sets out again with Mordred and an uninvited Morgana to find Arthur's brothers. Meanwhile Arthur suffers at the hands of his father who is constantly trying to find a way to reverse the witcher mutation

[schrijverr]

Just musing on the potential of any promises Pariah Dark made as King of the Ghost Zone transferring to Danny when he takes the throne. Like is Pariah one of the demons Constantine sold his soul too? Was he in league with Ra's? Did little Timothy Drake make a deal with him? Just interesting to think abt to me...

[serpentface]

FAMILY TITLES AMONG THE HILL TRIBES

(ft. various linguistic notes and tangents)

In-universe Brakul’s self-given title of ‘Red-Dog’ is Brakul 'ne-Dainh' in his native language (Bict-Urbinnas dialect of the Highland language group) and Brakul 'Chin-Reyla' in Wardi. Ne-Dainh/Chin-Reyla is not something he treats as or considers an actual surname or identity, just a self-styled nickname. He already has a title.

Family names/surnames are not a native practice among the Hill Tribes (though some clans or individual families have adopted this practice), and all traditionally use titles that designate immediate ancestry, clan and tribe. These full titles are officially given when one comes of age and are spoken aloud in ceremony (with the entire direct male and female lines listed by name, with most traditions expecting 12 generations of each being named).

The function is to cement one’s sense of place in the world, and their place in a direct ancestral line, which puts the person under the full watch and guidance of their ancestors. It's also a critical method of recording lineage- the long held practice of each person memorizing at least 24 total direct ancestors allows for very long, largely accurate records of family history to be kept, with some people able to trace their ancestry all the way back to initial settlement of the Highlands (or even beyond).

Brakul’s full title is:

“Brakul virsum Kuligan et Borunil an Briyonis ne-Taig an Bict-Urbinnas”

Which dead literally translates to “Brakul son of Kuligan and Borunil of the Foothills (of) Red-Cattle, of the North (Urbin/Erubin) River Valley” but has a much richer meaning in the original language.

"BRAKUL VIRSUM KULIGAN ET BORUNIL"

The actual meaning here is closer to ‘Brakul, son of Kuligan and his father’s fathers, and Borunil and her mother’s mothers’.

“Virsum” means ‘child (son/daughter) of’ (the gender is contextual), but implies the person’s status as a descendant of a full male and female line of ancestors. A different word is used if you’re just saying ‘I’m so and so’s son”. The title describes him as a son of his father Kuligan and of Kuligan’s male line, and of his mother Borunil and Borunil's female line.

All ancestors (within this particular system of kinship, divided into one direct male line from the father and one direct female line from the mother, and not including husbands from the female line or wives from the male line) are invoked and credited with the word ‘virsum’. Speaking it as part of the personal title is part of the routine and necessary honoring of one’s ancestors, who watch over their descendants from the afterlife and can temporarily return to the land to guide and protect (and sometimes punish, or teach sharp lessons to) the living.

"AN BRIYONIS NE-TAIG"

The actual meaning here would be understood as ‘clan/people of the foothills where cattle are lit red by the setting sun'.

‘Briyonis’ is the word for ‘foothill’, citing his clan’s specific location being the foothills that form the slopes of the north Urbin river valley. He is of a lesser clan within the powerful North Urbin River tribe. His clan benefits from close affiliation to their more powerful ruling clans located directly in the river valley, which grants them access to a greater variety of cultivated foods, but their actual position in the foothills still renders them predominantly reliant on cattle for subsistence. Clan names referencing cattle or horses are very common, given their frequent centrality to life.

The ‘ne-Taig’ literally means ‘red cattle’, but the ‘ne’ color word for red specifically invokes shades of red seen in and cast by a rising/setting sun. This red cast is culturally regarded as a unique beauty and evocative (and part of the name) of the solar god Hraighne. The foothills his clan is physically located on are a vantage point from which the western horizon is not fully obscured by mountains, and they experience very striking sunsets and are directly touched by the light. This is fairly unique to this location, and is invoked in the clan name and identity. ‘Ne-Taig’ here suggests a visual of grazing cattle illuminated red by the sun as it crosses the horizon.

‘Ne-Dainh’ carries the same implication, a dog illuminated red by setting sunlight. The Wardi language does not have a comparable word for a sunlit red and ‘Chin-Reyla’ really does just mean ‘(orangeish) red dog’ (‘reyla’ is specific to orangey-red colors, which is the closest match he could get. There’s no way to impart the meaning of ‘sunlit-red dog’ in Wardi that is non-clunky enough to be appropriate for a name).

"AN BICT-URBINNAS"

‘an Bict-Urbinnas’ is fairly simple, Bict means ‘north’, and 'Urbin' is the name of the specific river that stems from a northern and eastern tributary. This river has a very ancient name (or a derivative of one) that predates settlement by the Hill Tribes, and its exact meaning is lost.

The root -(n)nas designates a river valley, but has strong implications of being an esteemed and bountiful place, rather than solely a literal geographical descriptor (as the river valleys are centers of power and trade in the highlands). It may be a loanword from the Wardi language family, as its usage is VERY similar in form and function to the Wardi -(n)nos, which also suggests a place of esteem and bounty (more specifically having connotations of a kingdom).

’An’ literally means ‘of’, but in the specific sense of describing the place and identity of a collection of people. ‘an Bict Urbinnas’ would be understood in speech as ‘of the north Urbin River Valley (people)’. The clans historically settled in and around the valley of the North Urbin River form the totality of the Bict-Urbinnas tribe.

The ‘Urbin’ word predates the contemporary Wardi name ‘Erubin’ for the river, the latter of which invokes the semi-mythological founding figure Erub, who himself was of a Wardi tribe located downriver to the south of the Highlands. The real historically extant ‘Erub’ was most likely named Urub after the river, with his cited name shifting over the centuries in folklore, and the Wardi name for the river shifting with it.

‘Erubin’ as a corruption of ‘Urbin’ functions very well in Wardi language due to ‘-bi/bin’ denoting something as a ‘gift’, usually in a more metaphorical sense. ‘Erubin’ is understood as meaning ‘(The river that is) Erub’s gift’, and the Erubin/Urbin river is a key tributary to the much larger Black river, one of the key rivers that feeds the region's wetter and more fertile west. This 'gift' meaning also occurs in the name of the southeastern Imperial Wardi city-state Erubinnos, which is understood as meaning ’((The kingdom that is) Erub’s gift’. He is considered to have conquered and taken the land (from the core city's actual founders, the Wogan people) and established a kingdom there in the early days of warring Wardi tribal monarchies.

[lunaticalove2]

Okay! I actually wrote the first one! I am waiting for ao3 to send me an invitation, and I'm going to caopy the story there. For now, I'm publishing it here (Story under the cut). Enjoy!

Blitzø's POV

After reuniting with Octavia, Stolas stopped being Stolas. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't speak, wouldn't get up, and I often found him gasping for air in the middle of a panic attack. I feel really bad for him, and I'm doing the best I can to help him through this tough time. He didn't even have the strenght to come to work, so now I leave him to sleep on the couch while I'm in the office or on a mission, and when I come back I make something to eat for the three of us. My biggest fear is him doing stupid things to himself while at work. I try to call him when I'm not there with him just to know he's okay. He doesn't speak much, tho. I told him he just has to pick up the phone and if he doesn't feel like saying something he can just make noises like hoots or something like that. This morning was really tough for him. Stolas tried to call Via again, cause he never gave up with that, and he finally got a response. But it wasn't what he was hoping for. The scene was something like this:

*flashback*

Blitzø:"you sure you wanna call her again? You can try tomorrow"

Stolas just nods, and Blitzø sighs softly, he can't say no to him. The phone rings and someone picks up

Stolas:"Via?!"

Octavia:"Stop calling to this number! If I ever want to talk to you again, I'll be the one to call. So stop looking for me. Bye"

And she hangs up. Stolas looks at the phone, too stunned to speak or even move. Blitzø notices and immediately runs by him.

Blitzø:"Hey, breathe. She's just going through a tough time. Just like you"

Stolas stays silent. Everything starts spinning and his vision is blurring with tears. His breath caught in his throath. Blitzø embraces him and Stolas returns the hug, and soon enough he's hyperventilating and crying in the other's shoulder

*end of flashback*

So now I'm esitant to go to work, I'm scared he's going to do something stupid. And these days he's also refusing to take his anti-depressant. I'm so worried, but I also can't leave everything to Loona and M&M. Today we have many clients, and they can't handle it alone. I decide to approach him. "hey Stols" he looks at me "I have to go to work. Are you gonna be fine on your own for a few hours?" he waits a moment and then nods "alright, I trust you. But if something, ANYTHING, happens, don't hesitate to call me" I kiss him on the forehead "see you later, big bird". And I leave the house.

Stolas's POV

I feel so useless. Blitzø just left for work and I didn't even say anything. And this morning Octavia, my sweet Via, rejected me. When I called her she literally said she didn't want to see me nor talk to me. My mind is full of thoughts, I can't think straight. Withouth noticing, I get up and suddenly I'm in the bathroom. I open the drawer and I take a blade. I deserve it, I tell myself. I starts cutting... 1, 2, 3 cuts. It feels good, and I can't stop. At one point, I don't even know how much time passed, I cut too deep and start panicking, only now realizing what I had done. I immediately get up and put my arms under the water. A few cuts stop bleeding too much after a while, but a few of them are still losing too much blood. I feel myslef on the verge of passing out, I'm so lightheaded. I need to call Blitzø. Even if I'm ashamed to do so. I grab my phone and dial his number. I wait for him to pick up doing my best to stay concious. He picks up almost immediately: "Stols? Are you ok? Something happened" I only manage to croack out a few words with the tears that were now running down my cheeks "B-Blitzø. I'm sorry" he sounds worried as he responds "I'm coming now" and he hangs up. I just need to atay concious.

Blitzø's POV

I just received the call from Stolas. I'm driving as fast as I can, maybe I even killed some people that were crossing the road, but I just need to be there for him. I arrive and burst into the door. "STOLAS!!" I yell from the kitchen. But then I hear some crying from the bathroom and I immediately run in there. I can't believe what i'm looking at right now. Stolas, my Stolas, crying in the bathroom with a blade next to him, and his arms are full of blood. I rush to his side and kick the blade out of his reach. I hug him tight, not caring if my clothes are getting wet with his blood. "I-I-I'm so sorry. I-" I shush him and tell him that it's okay as I let go and look at his arms. This is worse that I thought. Some of the cuts are very deep. I notice that he is breathing heavily, and maybe struggling to stay concious. "Stols, looks at me. Try to focus on me and don't pass out". He nods. I help him off the floor and to the sink, where I remove most of the blood. While doing this, I say "Why would you do that? It's dangerous" he is still crying, probably can't bring himself to stop, and I don't blame him for that "I-I don't know. I-I don't know what's gotten into me. I'm so sorry" I look at him and say "It's okay. Don't apologize. You're going through a tough time". When I finish washing away most of the blood, I take him on the bed, disinfect and bandage his cuts. When I'm done, I give him a cup of water, since he's still shaken and he lost much blood. "Wanna talk about it?" I ask. He shakes his head no. "Can you just... Hold me? For a bit. I'm still kinda dizzy" he says. My expressions softens and i immediately embrace him and rub his back comfortingly. After a moment, I decide to speak again: "When you feel like hurting yourself again, call me right away. I'll help you" he just nods and falls asleep 2 minutes later. I sigh as I continue holding him. It makes me really sad thinking that Stolas, the once always smiling and silly prince, just thought that he deserved to self harm. I once though he was annoying, I though he was just a horny bird that was using me as his toy. But I got to know him, and the most important of all, I learned to love him. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure he's safe and happy

Fic Ideas I don't feel like writing, and if someone does, tag me.

Some are a bit angsty (especially this first one. Sorry, i have a dark mind. In fact, that's my favourite)

1- Stolas, after seeing Via like we've seen in sinsmas, is in a really bad mental place, worse than before. So he just stops eating, doesn't talk much, has panic attacks often, and self harms. Blitzø knows of his relationship with food and panic attacks, but doesn't know about his self harm. One day, Stolas locks himself in the bathroom and does THAT. He accidently does a cut too deep and he starts loosing too much blood and feels himslef passing out. The only thing he brings himself to do is call out Blitzø's name. And things escalate from there, with Blitzø cleaning his cuts and helping him calm down and cope with it

2- (this one is a bit comic) after the little dance they had on sinsmas, Loona, Millie and Moxxie, since they saw and registered everything, are rubbing it in their faces and jokingly making fun of them about it

3-Just Stolitz cuddling and joking on the sofa, playing with each other

If I have any other, I'll write them down

[kal-thas]

guys when the disability is disabling 👎

[astral-catastrophe]

me and the generic extra strong Tylenol and the pure rage in my system

[jiyoos]

one of my managers triggered my ocd so bad and now i feel like everyone at work secretly thinks i am a horrible person and i want to quit and i know it’s not real but like!!!!!!

[softness-and-shattering]

Im so sorry. Im glad you at least have online to be yourself, but I wish you safety and joy in all aspects of your life.

The big thing imo is that it comes back to trauma. Some people think trauma is a free pass to act however they want to; its not. Im starting to think that some people see their trauma as whats keeping them safe. Coping skills and mechanisms keep us safe, trauma hurts us. In the same way that trauma doesnt make you strong, healing makes you strong.

If I can go on a tangent fot a second, Ive been noticing for years now, as a Jew, that we Jews tens to retraumatise ourselves in the name of rememberance. Particularly but not exclusively around Holocaust education. Just going into the sources, being shocked and horrified and bawling and everyone thinks yeah thats normal. Thats how we remember how bad it was. And I see people also on a spectrum of discomfort to bigotry re how they see people as "enemies". And Ive been thinking on a large group level, we need to work out how to heal, and remember and understand, and heal. Because trauma isnt serving us. Its one thing to be wary when antisemitism is spiking, to make sure you have a valid passport and a plan, and another to be terrified and lash out at others.

Im seeing a similar kind of pattern in the queer community, not as generational or as deliberate though. Everyone has trauma. Everyone is defensive and twitchy. Everyones lashing out at each other and fighting for like, validity and approval and "resources", put down everyone else so Im get what I need. And I think as queers we need as a community to work out some kind of therapy/healing. The only way Ive really worked out is to talk about it as a concept, for individuals to learn themselves, and when I can I try share coping strategies that Ive learned. Cause its like a bunch of hissing cats here sometimes. Everyone needs to learn some more effective strategies, learn how to self-soothe, learn how to manage conflict and de-escalate and come back to finish the conversation when calm.

We're all very reasonably hurt and scared, but that doesnt mean we can or should hurt each other about it. Its not the pain that keeps us safe, its the coping strategies. And a lot of us need better strategies.

This seemed very logical when I started, but Im.now not entirely sure how its a direct response to your post 😅. I hope its ateast interesting if not helpful?

I think we need to review some things as a queer community. The irrational hatred of men is one of the pillars of radical feminism, probably even the most important, and all the damage radfems have done can be traced back to this idea. Any and all terfs and all the damage they have done are directly traceable back to this idea. It is uncomplicated to say that irrational hatred of men is a bad thing: not only is it bad on the face of it, but it has resulted in over 50 years of bigotry, hatred, and queer on queer harassment and violence. This is both known to be a serious problem and a serious problem within the queer community.

Due to this 50+ year history of this idea harming trans people, someone saying that we need to not irrationally hate men should be the most luke warm, white bread with a glass of water, unreservedly accepted statement that has ever been made within the trans community. It should be accepted as readily as terfs = bad because it is core to why terfs are bad.

Now, irrational hatred of men within the queer community has a proven record of harming trans people of all types. I don't feel like I need to even justify this one, just *vaguely gestures in the direction of radfems and terfs in particular.* it doesn't really matter if other things cause more damage, because this is a big one within the queer community. This is something we have more control over than larger societal issues and it damages the structures of support we have made. Thus, saying something like the irrational hatred of men harms trans women should be such a nothing take that you might as well state that the sky is blue. There is no reasonable objection to this statement. The statement that this also hurts all other types of trans people is similarly uncomplicated.

Finally, it is not unreasonable to suggest that trans women may fall into toxic modes of thinking, such as an irrational hatred of men, especially when they are dealing with trauma. There is nothing magic about trns women that makes us better than anyone else.

It's all in our shared history. This isn't controversial stuff.

And yet people have been getting very, very angry over these very simple statements. It does not instill confidence that this is a safe community for a woman like me, a trans woman who is forced to be in the closet in my public life - in every queer community like this I've ever interacted with I'm seen as a lesser woman at best and a hostile interloper just as commonly. These types of attitudes are why i just stopped bothering with women focused events completely, even when they are explicitly trans women friendly. I will never be welcome among people who let themselves indulge in gut reaction hatred of men because I read like a man.

And yes, there are other forms of transphobia that hurt me more, but this is cuts particularly deep because these are supposed to be the people who understand. The people who are like me. And what I get is gut resentment for failing to perform femininity to some arbitrary standard.

On tumblr I don't have this problem because people can't see or hear me. But I wonder with this discourse going about how many of my friends, mutuals, and acquaintances on here would have that gut negative reaction if they heard my voice.

Doesn't make me feel particularly safe or welcome in this community.

[ambersky0319]

also untelated but still work related

today was

interesting