#rather than from the point of view of her brother because it distances the people who I actually care about knowing how they feel about it

[eternal-dragon-of-time]

Dreadforest is opening up this weekend. Means I'll get to actually play through the event. I wasn't exactly impressed with the writing I got from the wiki but maybe actually playing the story will make me feel differently about it.

[kennae-bae]

Here's a Fields of Mistria Relationship Chart!! This chart is free to use, I'd love to see everyone's farmer relationships so please tag me if you use this template 💕 Katt is an admin on the unofficial FoM Discord server and they made the Caldarus icon while I made the Priestess icon

The second picture features my farmer April's relationships with all the Mistrians! On mine, I made it so the arrow pointing at the character is how your farmer feels about them, while the arrow pointing at the farmer points to how the character feels about your farmer.

Under the cut is more details of April's relationships with everyone ✨

March - April's Partner; was the first to confess his feelings after learning about what Julius (one of my other FoM OCs) put her through and realizing just how strong and resilient she really is. (Though, March had a massive crush on her before this, but it prompted him to act on his feelings instead of burying them)

Caldarus - April feels close to Caldarus and knows she can turn to him if no one else is around. Caldarus also feels very close to April and admires her. Both of them want to protect each other, no matter what.

Celine, Reina - April considers Celine and Reina to be her closest friends aside from Caldarus and Ryis. The two of them, however, had little crushes on April (these crushes fade once April starts dating March, and when their own LIs (some of my other FoM OCs) enter the picture

Ryis - April feels comfortable and close to Ryis. Ryis also considers April to be a good friend, but prefers to be March's wingman and likes seeing them together

Balor - April considers him only as a friend, but Balor had a little crush on her for a while before it also faded (he also meets another FoM OC of mine who later enters the picture)

Adeline - April considers Adeline a friend, but prefers to keep a professional distance between them. Adeline is more so infatuated with April and her work ethic rather than having any feelings for her

Eiland, Hayden, Valen - Good friends, definitely a bit closer to Hayden as a fellow farmer

Priestess - April's curious about the Priestess down in the mines. She wants to help her and uncover the mysteries of the seals and what's down in the mines. The Priestess also reminds April of her party's cleric, Cannenta (<- a FoM OC of mine that will be introduced in the future)

Juniper - The only person April dislikes. This is largely because she dislikes how she uses her potions on people unwillingly and it just reminds her of a lot of people she encountered, including Julius who used his magic for harm against others.

The Older Mistrians - April has a generally positive relationship with them. Out of all of them, April considers herself closest to Terithia (she also admires her for her past on the battlefield, as she can relate), and Olric since he's March's brother

The Vendors - Doesn't get a chance to talk to them much, but has a generally good rapport with all of them

The Dragonguard - The kids really like April, and she finds them cute. Has a soft spot for Dell since she can relate to her love of swords and she also reminds her of herself when she was younger

Dozy and Henrietta - April adores animals, pet and/or farm animals alike! Both Henrietta and Dozy have a neutral, but positive view of April

[littlemissstel]

Confirmation- Shiu Kong

slight angst with happy ending, no use of (Y/n), use of 'Doll', not proofread

blush divider by @bernardsbendystraws

cyber divider @saradika-graphics

You and Shiu were growing apart. Were? You have grown apart, more than you had ever meant to in the first place. When you were younger you thought that was just a silly excuse people used because, "If you really loved someone then how could you grow apart? Why wouldn't you catch it sooner?". But now you've come to understand that it isn't as simple as that, you just wish it didn't have to be through experience.

Nothing happened to mark the start of this new period, no fights, suspicion, change in personality. The problem was that nothing happened at all. At some point the mid-day calls stopped coming, the texts that read, "This made me think of you", the spontaneous gifts and actions of love...The "I love you's".

But you did love him.

The two of you just got too comfortable in your own routines that there was no need for expressing admiration for the other because they would always be there, right?

You had only realised after an outing with your friend. The two of you had met for dinner, getting dressed up, with your hair in a style that took longer to do than it lasted- but it had been a while since you had any reason to and you felt special. The night was at it's peak and through the windows you could see the heard of party goers in practically transparent clothing, you and your friend sitting front and centre to watch as they went by.

"Uhhggg that should be us right now, you know! We used to go out all the time, what happened with that?"

"I'm not really sure, I think I've kind of slipped away from the club scene but we should go out again sometime soon"

"Good! Because you have no idea- how shitty these dating apps are. You know how i felt about them in the first place but I thought ,'you know what, why not give it ago'. The worst decision of my life-"

You cut her off with a burst of laughter, rubbing your fingers soothingly against your temples.

"Don't you think that's a little dramatic?"

"No, not at all! You don't understand, it's like they're rationing the good guys for us single people. I have no idea how you found Shiu but pleeaasee, if he has a brother, hook me up"

You couldn't keep up with her antics, your laughter gradually becoming gasps for air while she continued her passion filled rant. As the conversation went on you couldn't help but think about your own relationship, you didn't mean to ruin her view on it, but with the more examples she brought up, the more you realised that the romantic gestures you did were a thing of the past- heavily outdated.

From that day on, your awareness of the situation had grown and how you hated it. The apartment was often empty, rarely were the both of you home at the same time and when you were you felt like roommates rather than lovers. Shiu was constantly stressed, you had no idea what about - when you tried to ask him he quickly brushed you off - and any attempt at displays of affection seemed unnatural. You didn't know anything that was going on in his life and vice versa.

You were trying, but a conversation about it...maybe now wouldn't be the best time. You weren't quite sure how to bring it up in the first place. But you knew with every passing day, the hairline fracture between the two of you deepened and you felt the loss swallow you whole. Every rejection was a heartbreak. You were just too far away.

It took another month for you to gain the courage to address the problem. Truth be told, you could have done it before but you refused, not wanting to ruin the rare moments you two shared each others presence.

Which is why you hesitate to do it now. The both of you on the sofa, a noticeable distance apart, on your own devices.

"Shiu, can we talk for a minute?"

He looks up slowly.

"uh-huh...is something wrong?"

"No. Yeah a little bit but it's no ones fault." You start, taking a staggered breath in. Your chest starting to tighten and you became hyper aware of yourself as he gave you his attention. Your hands begin fidgeting with each other, trying to preserve any last sense of comfort.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we've been so distant lately. We barely even talk anymore and when we do it's never past the bare minimum. I know that people go out of the honeymoon phase and it's normal, but I really don't want to be like this. Not with you, that was never us."

"This sounds like break up talk Doll."

"No! I didn't mean it like that! You have no idea how much I love you, I just have a problem with how we've been showing it."

There's silence for a minute as you both stare, intently waiting for a reaction as he drags a breath.

Shiu knows you're right. He's felt it too but the highs were just high enough to forget until he could repeat the cycle all over again. He never thought past it just being normal, after a while couples stopped needing to do 'couple-things'. His parents, as loving as they were, never went out on dates and he couldn't recall a time he'd seen them kiss or hug because they just didn't need to. They had been together for a long time, just like you and him, they had kids and were married so what other proof did they need? No one would've thought to question it. But seeing you now, in front of him, struggling to find the right words to say...It didn't feel right.

You had gone into your separate worlds, only to return to each other at night. But when? That wasn't him? The him that loved to buy you flowers to keep on the kitchen table, the one who savoured every embrace and rued getting up in the morning. The other kind of life, it wasn't for him.

He moves his spot closer to you before taking your hand and squeezing it.

"Then we'll fix it. We can go on dates, just how we used to when we first started out, okay? I won't take extra jobs and we can talk about our days over dinner or sit down to watch a movie." He says, watching as a smile makes its way onto your face.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

You engulf him with your arms wrapped around his neck gently, placing your head onto his shoulder while he supports you around the waist, a small rubbing motion made on your back.

"Thank you, I'm sorry"

The kiss he places on your head releases the tension of your longing, carrying with it the missing confirmation the both of you had lost all too long ago.

"I'm sorry too."

low-key wanted to make it soul crushing but got over my bad mood before it could happen😔watch out

Please feel free to leave any idea/recommendations

[worlds-oldest-teenager]

I’m interested. How do Apollo and Artemis’s desire to protect each other drive a wedge between them?

I'm glad you askeddd. Thank you for being my first anon ever btw. (@crowmakeska-boom idk if you are the anon but anon, whoever you are, sorry for the wait). This is probably not a very good meta cause it's mostly vibes, gut feelings and filling in the blanks with below the bare minimum of textual evidence but oh well. 

First I'd like to talk about why I think Artemis and Apollo's relationship is kind of distant. They're a confusing duo. When you first meet them in the titan's curse it may seem they don't like each other much or atleast Artemis seems to not be paticularly fond of her brother. Calling him “irresponsible”, “lazy”, “big headed”. But reading between the lines reveals how much the two of them care for each other, especially on Apollo's part from all the illegal help he was dishing out to the questers.

But then when you read some more, their relationship just feels a tad too distant to completely take what they say as just banter. When we see them on Delos in Blood of Olympus the distance is literal. They're recycling banter that's getting old and you can tell that even if it had been lighthearted before, it’s definitely getting on both their nerves now (stolen from fsinger lmao). They’ve both been playing the part for a long time but it feels like they don’t have the closeness anymore to recognize they’re both just playing parts. 

So what happened?

I think it's their need to protect each other that's causing this rift between them. From my point of view Artemis & Apollo are protecting each other from different things but Olympus is at the core of it for the both of them.

The twins have a very different experience of Olympus. Since her introduction Artemis seems pretty critical of Olympus. According to the hunters she's the only one who can get the ball rolling during solstice meetings and she's shown to not really act the Olympian way. Taking the sky off the shoulders of a mortal girl. Shrinking herself down to make the human heroes feel more comfortable and demanding they get rewarded.

It wouldn't be far fetched to assume that she's never fit in with Olympus and doesn't agree with most of the views of her family.

Then there's Apollo.

Who fits in so perfectly with the messed up inner workings of Olympus or so people think. He's perfected his mask over the years and no one is the wiser about the abuse he's gone through or even the fact that this isn't actually who he is.

To me, Artemis wants to protect Apollo from Olympus' true nature. In her head she's got every part of Olympus figured out and for the most part she has. Even if it's not something that works for her I think she would want to protect her younger brother from knowing what the kind of people he surrounds himself with are truly like.

I feel like Artemis would be conflicted on it for other reasons too because if Apollo is aware of the kind of people the Olympians are and he's alright with that, what kind of god is Apollo?

So she'd much rather think of him as stupid and irresponsible cause those atleast mean that it isn't he isn't a bad person. But I feel deep down she doesn't really believe completely that what she knows of her brother is correct.

But then she sees the way Zeus loves Apollo and cares for him and in her mind it's the right decision to let him live this way. He is safer now than they ever were as children.

Apollo on the other hand wants to conceal their father's true nature from Artemis. We know that he cares deeply about appearing fine on the surface because of how others would worry and who would worry more than his older sister.

Artemis and Apollo may be the protectors of youth but the first ever youth they protected were each other. It's the foundation of their relationship and caries on into the present day. Both of them feel a desperate need to protect each other.

I would go so far as to say that this is THE relationship they have with each other. The both of them never find comfort in each other, only protection. You can tell that comfort is not something they usually derive from each other from the way they're both completely blindsided by simple things like an "I love you" , a hug and just concern in general.

Comfort from each other is not a priority for them no matter how much they crave it. The twins purpose to each other is to protect.

So of course Apollo would never tell Artemis about the way Zeus hurts him.

I also think there's a little bit of denial on Artemis' part on just how abusive Zeus is. Cause Apollo is dropping hints. Even the way Artemis talks during Blood of Olympus makes it clear that she understands Zeus is gonna massacre the guy. She just doesn't want to believe it will be permanent.

And it's got a lot to do with the fact that she wants to protect him. Because if she acknowledges this isn't a situation Apollo is gonna come out from unscathed that means that she's incapable of protecting him. That means that she's failed to protect him before and cannot protect him again.

So she'd much rather pretend that Zeus is persuadable and not that bad. That it's Apollo's fault Zeus comes down so hard on him and if he were a little better and a bit more like her he could be safe.

And this would hurt Apollo because Artemis can pinpoint exactly what Zeus is like. But instead of comforting him she confirms for him that this is his fault. That if he could be better none of this would happen. Artemis helps prevent but never helps heal because helping her brother heal means he was in a position to be hurt in the first place.

All this mess and miscommunication and disbelief stemming from the fact that they love each other and never want to see each other hurt creates an impossible distance between them.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Slowly but surely they're trying to comfort/ seek comfort instead of just protect each other.

I wept on my sister’s shoulder. I felt like if I let go of Artemis, I would fall back into Chaos. Huge parts of my identity would shake loose, and I would never be able to find all the puzzle pieces. “Whoa, there.” She patted my back awkwardly. “Okay, little fella. You’re all right now. You made it.”

Apollo's trials sucked. But I'm glad it's given the twins the opportunity to bridge the gap between their relationship again.

[countrymusiclover]

19 - Targaryen Sisters Finally Clash

Part 20

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Flying over the green land I ended up hiding us behind one of the tall hills still with a good view of the army. Squinting my eyes tightly I could see some form of people on horseback charging at the army. But they seemed crazier than the one we had knowing that we were in trouble. “Mommy, what are we going to do out here?” My son asked me while he slid down her dragon tail helping his sister down.

“You two are going to stay right here. While I do what I can to protect our home.” I told him with a very stern voice.

Luciya pointed her index finger out towards the distance gaining my attention to the battlefield. “Daddy’s on a white horse.” She was in fact right because I saw the single horse galloping across the field.

Resting a hand to my ring necklace for comfort I knew Jaime could handle them until a familiar shriek came from the skies making me curse under my breath. “Seven hells. Please don’t be all three of them.”

Amethyst made a noise seeing the same creature I do. Shifting my gaze down to the ground I had her shoot up into the sky seconds before my Targaryen sister set them on fire. Flying through the clouds I saw our army had brought the giant crossbows. Men were screaming before I lifted my head up seeing Dany riding her dragon burning a section of wagons turning everything into a bloodbath underneath us. She nearly hit Jaime until I had my dragon bolt in her direction shouting in Valyrian. “Draycrays!”

My sister swung her dragon out of the way avoiding my attack. She flew up higher seeing me and Amethyst before she blew fire at us. Gripping her scales, my dragon does a flip in a barrel roll and accidentally sets fire to some of the lion soldiers. “Land - land - ugh! That’s a good girl.” ” I gripped her, tugging her in the opposite direction, getting her to land a few feet away, seeing most of the stuff on fire.

My eyes were forced to remain focused on everything on fire with people screaming in agony taking me back to the years my father was alive. “Vaella, what are you doing out here?” Tyrion’s voice rang in my ears.

“Coming to rescue my husband and stop my sister from taking siege of Casterly Rock. What the hell are you doing here?”

My dwarf friend responded, seeing me scowl at his words. “I am following the Queen I support in taking back the Iron Throne. She’s doing what she thinks is right.”

“Will she kill Jaime if she gets her hands on him? Will she kill me?”

He lowered his gaze. “Both are possible. I tried to talk her out of it but-“

“Shut your mouth! I will not let anyone hurt the people I love. I’ve lost too much in my life already ... .my brother was right I should’ve disappeared better like he attempted with Lyanna.” I felt tears welling in my eyes thinking back on the night I got to hear his plan to flee the city for good and had his sights set on Dorne.

Rhaegar dragged me through one of the passageways of the Red Keep until I could see that we were sneaking into the streets of Kings Landing. It was common for him, but not for me. “What are we doing out here? I’ve never been - where are we going?” I was what some would whisper a tower princess.

“I needed somewhere beside the castle to tell you something important without fear of fathers spies hearing our conversations.” My brother finally explained by the time we had snuck up onto one of the old tavern rooftops where no one would find us unless we talked rather loud.

Holding the hood of my black cloak over my head I questioned him. “What do you need to tell me, brother?”

“I am going to be leaving soon. I intend to run away with Lyanna Stark, the woman I truly love.”

“Rhaegar!” I raised my voice clasping my hands over my mouth terrified someone had heard me. I slowly lowered my hands changing my tone to a whisper. “Have you lost your mind? You’re already wed and she is promised to Robert Baratheon.”

He put his hands on my shoulders trying to calm my nerves down. “I know the risks. But I can’t stay married to a woman I don’t love.”

“What about the throne? You’re our fathers heir. Viserys is only seven years old. He can’t run an entire realm if father dies.” I pushed his hands away, running my fingers through my hair.

Rhaegar raised his hands up. “I’m sorry, Vae. I don’t want to be a prince anymore. I want real love and a family in the countryside with her.”

“Is there any way I can talk you out of this?” I asked with very little hope.

He shakes his head no sending me a half smile where I knew he would never push the love for Lyanna away from that day on. “I’m sorry but no, dear sister. If you want a simple life like me you should run with me. You should do whatever it takes to keep you and your loved one safe.”

I got drawn away from my memory hearing a spear bolt fly up and strike Dany’s dragon causing it to let out a wounded cry in agony. Shifting my gaze out onto the fiery field I noticed it was Bronn who had fired the hit. Men around us along with horses were burning from fire. Wagons were destroyed and I suddenly realized that this would be a nightmare for Jaime. He may not see the same danger from me but he definitely sees it in the Dragon Queen. "Tyrion, we have to stop her. She'll kill everyone in the Lannister army."

"She wants to be a different queen. She wants to stop the wheel." He looked up at me before Amethyst released a call out to me. Turning my head in her direction I could see Jaime and his white horse focused on the dragon and its queen who had now crashed onto the ground.

Slowly walking towards Amethyst I prayed he didn't do something stupid. Only another dragon could beat another dragon. "Jaime, in the name of the gods, don't do anything."

"Flee you idiot." His little brother mumbled beside me watching the dragon girl attempting to pull the bolt out of her dragon's side. The creature made some loud noises but she couldn't get it out on her own. I felt sorry for the creature as I climbed on Amethyst’s back. "Vaella, if you charge at her. Her dragon will kill you."

Resting my hands on her scales I felt the baby kick inside my belly. "If I do nothing and he charges, she will kill him." I hated to think that someone who shared my blood would kill people, similar to our father.

Focusing my eyes back onto Jaime I cursed under my breath seeing him start running forward on horseback grabbing a spear on the way charging at her. "You idiot. You fucking idiot!" Tyrion mumbled before I kicked her in the side and she shrieked shooting up into the sky.

Flying as fast as we could, I still wasn't close enough to him when the dragon turned its head. The dragon queen saw him moving out of the way before hers breathed fire. "Jaime!" I shouted at the top of my lungs seeing someone tackled him off his horse and into the water.

“Daddy!” Rhaegar and Luciya cried out as they ran on the ground from their hiding place that I had left them at, running to the spot that Jaime had been at with Danny’s about to open its mouth at them.

Amethyst dove down towards the ground blocking her body in front of my twins and Daenerys. Sliding down the dragon wing I stand in front of the three of them where I clutched my hands into fists at my sides shouting her name. “Daenerys! I will kill you if you lay a hand on my children.”

“How dare you threaten me. State your name so I may know the woman so bold to challenge me. I wasn’t even aware another dragon lived in Westeros.” My sister raised a brow standing a few steps before me.

Keeping my gaze locked onto the gaze of my sister. “My name is Vaella Lannister, formerly the daughter of Kings Aerys II and Rhaella Targaryen. I am your older sister. This is my dragon Amethyst and my children Luciya and Rhaegar.”

“When you say Lannister do you mean Jaime Lannister?” She asked me in a very cold tone.

Nodding my head slowly in agreement I never pictured this would be how I would finally be meeting my sister who I believed was dead. “Yes I do. What are you going to do to me now?”

“I Daenerys of House Targaryen, breaker of chains and mother of Dragons, seize you and the rest of your family as my prisoners.” My sister declared while I saw some of her army rushing over and drawing their weapons, aiming them around the four of us in a circle. Amethyst lowered her head when I sent her a look to not kill her, it was safer for all of our lives if we just cooperated with her commands.

[nikethestatue]

I consider myself to be pretty neutral about the ship war as I don't really care who ends up with who as long as the story is enjoyable. So I follow a lot of accounts from all sides, and I see decent points made by all of them.

But I find the ask about Mor and Gwyn's similarities to be interesting. I think the ask was mainly about how you have several times claimed that Az finds Gwyn annoying and so pointing out that Az doesn't find Mor annoying.

Because Azriel reacts to Gwyn similarly as he does to Mor, indeed. It's usually mild, tortured annoyance which he tries to hide.

That might be your own interpretation, but as I've read sf, I don't find anything that can back up your statement.

He doesn't find any of these three women annoying. He's seen looking at Gwyn with admiration and thinks in his own pov that she has a charm to her. If they don't turn out to be lovers or mates, then I believe that they could be good friends.

Gwyn aside however, I find more similarities between Elain and Mor than Gwyn and Mor in regards to Az.

The first one is how he feels unworthy around both of them. His insecurities about his hands also comes into play when he is around them.

The shadows also has similar reactions around both Elain and Mor. They vanish most of the time or keeps their distance. Though I'm not sure if this is a bad thing.

Again, I don't care who ends up with, but I sometimes reads stuff (from all sides of the fandom) and shake my head as I find a lot of it to be wishful thinking. Az finding Gwyn annoying is not at all canon and I just think stuff like that is weird to spread just to uplift your own ship when it's not even true. Az doesn't need to find Gwyn annoying in order for elriel to happen.

No, Azriel had reacted a number of times with either annoyance or even hostility at Mor. It was either direct, or through someone's mentions or observations. It took Mor hundreds of years to CONVINCE him to go to Rita's (clearly something he didn't want to do, but felt pressured to). He finds her gifts pointless, aka, a bunch of daggers that she's given him over the years. He finds her displays with Cassian distasteful, and he literally left when she went off with Helion. 'Not my call to make'--he went against Mor, with Rhys and while knowing how distressful the situation might be for her, he didn't care. He was clearly hurt when she withdrew her hand from his own 'as if it burned her'.

I think there are a lot of complex feelings in how he views Mor and what his reactions to her are, but it's absurd to assume that isn't hurt or even disgusted by how she's treated him over the years. His reaction to her walking away was 'I will not bother her anymore. I live in the same space and serve in the same Court. I will remain here, but I will make every effort not to pressure her into anything'. Her reaction was to flaunt her affairs with other men, use his brother as a 'buffer' against him, generally point out to him how unattainable she is.

I do think that there is a comfort level between him and Mor, the same as he has with Cassian--the shadows always disappear with Mor, but they also disappear with Cassian. And of course, Elain.

As for her doesn't find any of these women annoying, again, I would disagree. I don't know if he finds them annoying as people, but he clearly stated that he would've preferred not to deal with Gwyn when he came up on her on the roof. 'It was too late to (leave)' and 'he didn't feel like explaining or demonstrating' and he needed to 'appear' polite.

I think he finds Gwyn amusing, but he doesn't seek her out in any capacity. She might be endearing in some way to him, but he doesn't treat her with any degree of closeness.

I think the feelings for Mor are complex, but border on resentful and annoyed, rather than loving.

Feelings for Elain are a whole different ballgame.

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Appetites

Five years ago the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

(Angst and fluff and smut) Changed up the format because it was starting to look so silly with 20+ chapters.

Check it out on Ao3 from the beginning or jump into chapter twenty below the cut.

On reflection, going to Figaro’s to track down Leon in hopes that Aurelia and Isolde would be with him was foolish—he’d only gotten lucky that they were even there—but now that he had the strange entourage with him, he wasn’t entirely sure what the point had been. Yes, he needed help to figure out what to do next. And, yes, that would involve a certain amount of thoughtful objectivity. And, yes, they weren’t quite so close to the matter as he was, so it made sense to consult them.

But.

This felt awful.

They were all… looking at him.

Like they didn’t know how to feel.

In the case of Isolde, it struck him that she was probably just a little overwhelmed. Perhaps she also had some complicated feelings about her brother resurfacing after all this time. Alternatively, with Leon and Aurelia, he sensed at least a portion of their conflicted feelings probably came from a small sadistic desire to see him suffer the consequences of his actions.

Then, Aurelia asked if he regretted it. Regretted her. Regretted the choice he had allowed her to extract Leon from the torments of hell. He’d misjudged them. They weren’t enjoying watching him squirm. They were worried. If not for his own sake, then for theirs.

He couldn’t exactly bring himself to say that he was sorry he’d dragged them into this. He wasn’t. And that view of it felt reductive, to say the least, even if it had reflected how he actually felt. But, the fact that it even crossed his mind was interesting. It seemed like the kind of thing a much simpler, more annoying person would think about.

What do I do? He wanted to ask them, but he couldn’t, so instead he just marched back to the palace, waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

Approaching the palace, he felt the decided sensation of paranoia flit across his mind. A kind of extra sensory warning that there were more people inside than when he’d left. Within seconds of entering through the doorways, he focused. Could he hear them? Smell them?

He did hear something. Raised voices, so it hardly counted.

It seemed there was some kind of congregation in the ballroom. Behind his back, the others got rather quiet. Only Isolde stayed close enough that he could her hear breathing and the faint thump of her little heart.

The ballroom door was cracked open. Through the sliver, he saw something glint, then he caught the smell of dog. Dogs weren’t allowed in Baldur’s Gate.

The dog barked.

It wasn’t just any beast.

Astarion greeted Scratch just a few feet past the ballroom doors, “Oh, look who it isn’t?!” he hadn’t even gotten a good look at him yet, and the dog had closed the distance between them. 

Scratch looked a little different from last he’d seen him. Older, but no less spry—if anything there was more enthusiasm in the familiar way he threw his head into Astarion’s palms  as he patted him and ran his fingers through the white fur around his strange gith harness. Astarion scrunched up his ears, admiring his accessories. Lae’zel appeared to have outfitted him with all the best in canine armor. His claws were fixed with terrifying silver caps, and there was a not insignificant amount of psionic energy detectable in the gems of the silver harness he wore. “No doubt infested with astral flees!” Astarion scolded the dog, only then noticing that the dog’s master, Lae’zel, was also in the room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Lae’zel stood in the ballroom, hand flinching towards her sword, keeping a dark sliver in the corner of her eye: Shadowheart.

The Sharran Mother superior, the Chosen of Shar. She stood with her channeling rod, disguised as a parasol, wrung between white knuckled hands. But this was the only thing that gave away her anxiety, in every other way, she was the picture of dark serenity.

Alice was there too—just to his right, and looking very ill, indeed, the small child with her was practically holding her up. Astarion did a double-take at the child. He didn’t know him, but he appeared to be a very young, golden-skinned githyanki.

“What’s all this?” Astarion demanded.

When no one answered him, he looked up to make eye contact with Lae’zel first, then Shadowheart, but the too of them both appeared too distracted to so much as face him. They were both a little slouched. Tense. Undoubtedly looking at each other more than anyone else in the room.

Finally, he turned back to Alice, clenching his jaw to school his exasperation. 

“I was going to tell you,” Alice looked absolutely terrible, and sounded worse when she spoke. He recognized that look, that feel. She was drained. Empty. He flickered an accusing glare over at Shadowheart, who didn’t seem to notice.

“Then it was so easy not to.” Alice patted the gith child’s head with a limp hand. “Ommelum told me that you’d brought him the egg in the first place, so as his previous caretaker—”

“His—what!?” an intense cold washed over Astarion. Not a cold like chilled water or wind, but something aching, something familiar. It was the feeling he’d had when they went into the Shadowfell, and as his eyes found the gith child again, he realized that they looked about five years old. It definitely could not be a coincidence. just shy of six years  ago, he’d found the forsaken egg.

Lae’zel had insisted it would never hatch. She’d had it with her when they went into the Shadowfell, and seemed to have concluded that this incident of interplanar travel was too much for it. She’d forgotten about it, but Astarion remembered, and delivered it to the Society of Brilliance himself.

“That’s Egg?! They actually managed to hatch a child from that?”

“Oh good, you remember,” Alice sighed, more of her weight crushing the wide-eyed child beneath her.

Of course he remembered, and now that she said something, he even remembered vaguely thinking that it was still warm to the touch as he closed his coat around it to take it from the Elfsong Tavern where he’d found it all the way to the Society of Brilliance. So, in a way, he had been the last person to handle it in their group but— “Caretaker?!” —you couldn’t go that far, could you?

“I’ve been keeping him here a few days. He’s been fairly unobtrusive, all things considered,” Alice confessed, voice still monotone and weak, like she thought she needed to get it all out before death took her.

Days? How could he have not noticed? He was sensitive to heartbeats and his hearing was excellent—the child was rather small, but he should have noticed something. As he looked around the ballroom at the others, he noted with mounting rage that absolutely no one else seemed shocked by this information. Isolde in particular, wore a slight blush, but showed no emotion besides. “Did you all, just know?!”

“Yes,” Leon answered reflexively.

“You’ve been alive less than half a day!” Astarion whirled around to get a look at his subtly smirking human face.

“Astarion.”

It was like someone had tugged at the hair on the back of his head. Her voice slithered into his ear, suggestive and cold and dripping with that pull towards nothingness. He immediately forgot all anger towards his rebellious household and instead snapped his attention over to Shadowheart.

“Shadowheart, old girl,” he replied to her without hardly parting his teeth.

If she was using that voice on him, allowing her gifts to enhance it, this must be serious, “Let me take the child. I’ll see to it he’s well cared for.”

The Chosen of Shar looked utterly still, and calm, aside from that grip on her parasol, and a slight manic glint in her eye.

Astarion took a moment.

It was clear that there was more going on here than he understood, but he could safely guess that Shadowheart’s investment in the child probably had something to do with her goddess’ agenda, rather than whatever latent desires to be a mother Shar hadn’t taken away from her yet. Looking at the child again, nothing stood out to him about the little creature besides that he looked quite scared and about as confused as Astarion felt.

“I sent a message out to your friend, Lae’zel,” Alice leaned into view, shifting her body so that Astarion was looking more at her than the child in her embrace, “no idea how she heard about any of it.” That Alice could infuse her words with any indication of any emotion at all was impressive, but the way she accused Shadowheart with a cock of her chin betrayed the deepest suspicions.

“It doesn’t matter,” Shadowheart said and Astarion didn’t want to listen to her. Not when her voice was so thick with Shar’s oppressive mantle. “Lae’zel is in no position to care for a child. She’ll probably just throw him to the first batch of hatchlings his own age, and he’ll be eaten alive.”

Probably true, Astarion had to acknowledge—but, no, was it? Was Shar working him, even now? Lae’zel was much more critical of her people and their ways than she had been, and certainly moreso than any other githyanki. Wasn’t she spending more time with the githzerai these days anyway?

But, regardless, why should he care? He cut Shadowheart with what he hoped was a sharp glance. She was trying to appeal to his sense of what would be best for the child. A child he hadn’t even known existed until moments ago. 

“You know it’s true.” Far from being cut, Shadowheart caught his eye and held it, unblinking.

“He has a certain amount of catching up to do,” Lae’zel finally spoke, her voice a low gravelly warning, “I will certainly not abandon him to the kind of upbringing I knew, when he is not ready for it. He will have my full attention and tutelage. He should know his people.”

That was a good point, he had to admit. Again, only in the scenario that he actually was in a position to make any kind of decision about the child. Just because he’d been harbored at the palace didn’t make him Astarion’s ward or something, did it? “Well, what does Egg have to say about it?” he finally demanded.

He’d hoped that this would simply redirect the energy away from him for a moment so that he could have a little think about what he should do, and how involved he already was, and whether or not he really had to be—but at this simple (arguably very reasonable) question, half the room began to shout at once.

“—Why can’t I stay here?—” Egg was at least the one person who technically had the floor, so Astarion didn’t begrudge him trying to speak up.

“—He still doesn’t even understand that he’s not going to be abandoned again—” Alice tried to speak for him, but could barely be heard over Lae’zel and Shadowheart.

“—His name will not be Egg!” Lae’zel declared, pointlessly.

“—powers beyond human will are at work, we can’t simply ignore that.”

So, he was right then. Shar did have some investment in the child.

Gods. He hoped it didn’t have anything to do with the egg coming with them into the Shadowfell.

Oh dear. That was definitely why, and he didn’t want to think on the implications.

The gith child appeared healthy, if a little neglected. His clothing had probably fit him properly about six months ago, which translated to far too many inches in barely-more-than-an-infant years. Shadowheart should definitely not be allowed to just wisk the child away, but he wasn’t sure Lae’zel should either. At least, not until he knew more about what the creature was doing in his house in the first place. Why hadn’t the Society of Brilliance been able to hang onto him?

“Huh,” Astarion drew out an unneeded breath to waste a few more seconds in contemplation. “Seems Egg is content to stay put, and I don’t have a problem with that, for the moment. He’s quiet and unobtrusive, apparently. What was that about powers beyond human will, Shadowheart? Do you mean to tell me that Lady Shar has an interest in a young githyanki child?”

Shadowheart’s measured answer was likely more revealing than she intended, “I am saying that it isn’t for any of us to decide his fate, when the gods themselves are involved.” 

That was a ‘yes’ then.

“Thayans are also involved,” Lae’zel revealed, and Astarion didn’t even have a moment to be properly unsettled by that before she added, “You may not want to keep him here, if it means they’ll come looking for him.”

It was time for Shadowheart to stand down. “She’s making better points than you.”

From the hard look Shadowheart tried not to give him, he could tell he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t honestly think that githyanki care about the well-being of children? They barely raise them in the first place. It’s just a clutch of eggs, then a gaggle of toddlers who kill each other off until a few lucky ones mature to something like adulthood and run off to die for glory in their never-ending wars.”

As Shadowheart spoke, Astarion could only watch Lae’zel, her rage burning hotter with each word, “better he struggle and learn to value his own life in the preservation of it, then be compelled to forget and give up on everything in his head and his heart, for the benefit of a greedy, pernicious goddess, who’s only pursuit is her own self aggrandizement at the expense of everything else in all the planes.”

Now, he had to watch Shadowheart react to these words.

For what felt like too long, she didn’t.

Then, all at once, she snapped.

“Grovel,” Shadowheart commanded.

Astarion felt the spell pass over him, failing to bring him to his knees, but around him, everyone besides Lae’zel flinched and fell to the floor. He fell with them, feigning a direct hit. Leon, Aurelia, Isolde, Scratch, Alice, and Egg all lowered to the ground until their faces met the surface.

In spite of the fact that she hadn’t managed to subdue Lae’zel, Shadowheart made a bee-line for the gith child, clearly intending to just grab him and run.

Astarion pounced, one hand immediately finding purchase at the top of her throat, gripping her on either side of her jaw, while the other ripped the channeling rod away, snapping it in two with a satisfying crunch.

Astarion’s grip at Shadowheart’s jaw was bruising, but he wasn’t closing off her airway or her blood supply, just yet, instead, he had her at the bones. He dragged her away from the boy, away from the people she’d just attacked, hitting the wall of the ballroom, and on instinct he kept walking, kept dragging her, even as her weight dangled off his fingers.

When he’d pulled her acolyte up to the ceiling the other day, the room had been smaller, the ceiling closer to the floor, and he’d dropped her immediately, never intending to try and keep her suspended up there. His muscles strained, and he realized his grip probably wasn’t secure enough to keep this up for long, but sheer determination kept him from dropping her as they reached the ceiling.

His force of will crashed against Shadowheart’s, as she somehow managed to utter the verbal component, “Ira et Dolor!”

The burning fire of radiant, swirling figures should have been too much for him. He ought to have lost his concentration and dropped Shadowheart and even fallen himself from the ceiling, but the intense, blinding pain only seemed to solidify his shaking grip. He felt the silver-gold flame ignited in his own undead body tear through the fabric of his waistcoat, his shirt, striping the flesh of his chest with burns. He couldn’t let her stay conscious. She’d burn him to death in a minute, assuming he didn’t drop both of them. He shifted her weight against his hand, cutting off the blood to her brain and stifling her breath. It would only take seconds for her to pass out, but during those seconds, the radiant beings encircling them would continue to pummel him. It was a test of endurance for both of them, and he was determined not to come out the loser.

Just as it seemed that Shadowheart was at the point of going entirely limp, a shout from below preceded a crash of hard, angry silver against the broad side of his body, knocking him from his perch, so they both fell.

The radiant guardians vanished, and the burning stopped. Astarion landed in a crouch on the ground, next to stiff bang of Lae’zel silver sword, as it hit the ground beside him. Shadowheart, Lae’zel had caught in her arms.

The githyanki woman cradled her, gently, searching her face. Her jaw was tight. Her gaze found Astarion. She didn’t condemn him, but she didn’t thank him either. Slowly, she rose up, Shadowheart’s weight draped across her arms like it was nothing more than the garments she wore. “I’ll take her back to her cloister. Then, I’m coming for…” Lae’zel looked over her shoulder at the child, “we are not calling him Egg.”

“Don’t take her anywhere,” Astarion recommended. “We’ll lock her up here until we can get to the bottom of this.” He wasn’t sure why he offered it. The confrontation with Shadowheart rattled him. They’d always been rather friendly. And she’d struck first. Then again, of course she had. It was for Shar. And he never would have been stupid enough to attack her unprovoked. He still couldn’t believe she’d done that. If she was willing to use her powers against them, why not come back with a small army of acolytes?

As if reading his mind, Lae’zel shook her head. “Her people will come looking for her if she doesn’t return. If we can avoid a war with Sharrans…” she trailed off, voice heavy. He’d never heard Lae’zel sound so reluctant to enter a fight before. 

“We?”

“You’re the one who attacked her,” Lae’zel pointed out.

“And you’re the one who hesitated,” Astarion countered.

Lae’zel’s grip around Shadowheart’s body tightened visibly and she looked down at her face, upturned, and deceptively serene again. “Yes.”

He still wanted to argue the point. Sending Shadowheart back to her enclave to gather reinforcements seemed stupid—but Lae’zel had spent the last five years supposedly learning the finer points of diplomacy between some of the most stubborn and proud races in all the planes, so perhaps he ought to leave her to, hopefully, do what she did best. If she could stay with Shadowheart until she awoke, and speak with her, maybe she would listen.

But would Shar?

As Astarion watched her carrying Shadowheart out of the ballroom, whistling to call Scratch after them, he rose up—the radiant burns he suffered keened, angered by his insolence at daring to move before he could heal.

Isolde was in front of him in an instant, fully recovered from Shadowheart’s spell, eyes glassy, breath short. She stopped short of putting her hands on him, her dark eyes searching the angry red marks he could feel on his face, and his hands. He looked down and found charred bits of fabric fused to his flesh across his chest.

“Where do you keep your potions?” Isolde asked in a voice that was much more composed than her trembling lips and wet eyes.

He was about to say that Alice knew where they were, but past her, he saw Alice lying on the ground, breathing, but clearly not awake, the gith child was still holding onto her, looking rather helplessly around the room at the strangers. 

“My study has a small stash in that ugly bronze credenza. Get one for Alice too.” Astarion asked.

Obediently, Isolde was gone before he could say anything else.

Leon and Aurelia had stayed on the floor where Shadowheart put them as well, but were at least sitting up, shaking themselves a little. Aurelia’s tail whipped anxiously behind her as she watched the gith child inch closer and closer to tears.

“She’ll be alright,” Aurelia tried to assure him.

Astarion approached the child to get a better look. He moved slowly, both to avoid exacerbating his burns and in areas not to start the child shouting or crying.

“I didn’t do it,” said the child in a strangely pleading voice, his little hands in fists. “I didn’t. It wasn’t me.”

“We all saw what happened,” Astarion regarded the child, halting his approach. “It was that ridiculous half-elf.”

“Everyone always thinks it’s me,” his wet eyes stared down at Alice.

“Oh dear,” Astarion sighed, the only real option he had forming itself into a plan. At least this felt like a problem that he could understand, a little. At least it was just gith and Sharrans, and maybe Thayans, apparently? Not devils. Not vampires. Still, it was a distraction he probably couldn’t afford.

Isolde returned with the potion and once the burns on his flesh stopped throbbing, it was a little easier to think.

Once Alice was awake, he was determined. “Right. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Isolde was the one who asked, but they all had the question in their faces.

“Just a short flight to the Society of Brilliance and back,” Astarion explained, “then I’ll tell you everything I know about,” he waved a hand vaguely at the gith child, who was a little soothed now that Alice’s eyes were open again. “It’s clear I don’t have the whole story, and I think I should.” He focused on his bat form, but didn’t feel the change.

Perhaps the potion hadn’t worked quite right? Was he still recovering? But that errant thought didn’t hold him—he’d managed to transform while injured before.

All at once, it felt like a clawed hand gripped the center of his chest, and squeezed. A horrible tightened began at his core, spreading out through all his veins like the branches of a tree of a trunk that was about to crack and split open. Tingling pain rushed through him, so spread out and so intense in some places that he couldn’t immediately focus on where it was the worst.

He must have cried out, he must have doubled over himself. Why else were the others screaming his name? Asking him what was wrong? What was happening.

What was worse? The tips of his fingers, where each nail was bursting, growing into thick, heavy, tapered claws? The base of his spine where he felt a sickening shift, the bones popping and changing position as they stretched? His skin everywhere churned like he was on fire again, but in particular down his spine and then concentrated at the center of his back?

No. It was the head. His head was in agony. He felt two points just above his temples prickle, then split as something shot out. He would have cried out, but the pain made him clench his jaw shut so tight that he started to feel his teeth crack—and his teeth were changing too.

It was like his animal transformations, but slow and heavy, and drawn out, and somehow it was like all of them at once where trying to take control of his body.

Then, he felt the unmistakable sensation of wings bursting forth at the usually blunted sides of each shoulder blade. A tail whipped out behind his back, and the horns on his head weighed him down. His clothing was shredded around him. He looked at his hands, drew his wings and his tail around his body to see, and felt the tips of his pointed horns.

“Oh, gods, Astarion!” Aurelia managed to exclaim her shock first.

Alice had moved several feet back and was covering the gith child’s eyes.

Leon appeared too stunned to speak.

Isolde had stayed close, trying to keep a hold of him, but he must have pulled free of her, given how she was partly fallen besides him, looking up at him  with her mouth parted and her eyes disbelieving, the smallest, almost imperceptible shake of her head giving away her moment stranded in denial.

Astarion let out a breath and tried to forget the pain, tried to push away the moment of fear. He gathered what little dignity he could, cracked his neck and said. “Well. It seems Mephistopheles’ gift has been revealed.”

A devil form.

Could be a gift. Except.

Astarion focused on his animal forms, one by one, but felt the loss of them, a sense of disconnect plummeting into his soul. He could almost hear the laughter of the archdevil in the back of his mind.

It would almost be a gift, if he hadn’t lost the others. 

And, if he could manage to change back.

[coffincest-philosophy]

crazy how cannibalism and satanism will go unnoticed but people will draw the line at incest. it’s supposed to be messed up like what do you expect?? also fiction ≠ real life.

personally? idgaf what the antis think about the ship because . they’re both hot af and ashley is so me coded hejej

your blog is super cool btw and i’m considering buying the game to play for myself

Yeah fandom is... interesting.

Honestly I mostly try to just block people and stay out of arguments. Arguing with people about fandom issues just makes me have a bad time and I'd rather spend my time online enjoying the things I like instead of getting heated over them. I've been part of tumblr fandom for over 10 years now, so my points of view on fandom drama are much more in line with older fandom.

I don't touch the "proship vs. anti" stuff with a 10 foot pole because I think both sides of the argument have been watered down to mean absolutely nothing. Antis have a different definition of what "proship" means than proshippers have, and proshippers have a different definition of "anti" than antis have. So at this point, to me, it's mostly just an argument about semantics, and that gives me too much of a headache to participate in. I stopped using twitter because of it since tumblr, although still not perfect, is a lot better.

My main point of view on most fandom drama boils down to: I can tell the difference between fiction and reality, but if you are someone who can't distinguish that line then it means you shouldn't participate in fandom for your own safety. At the end of the day, our brains all work differently, and we have no right to police others because of how our own individual thinking works. Block and move on, if you stop having a good time and it begins to effect you irl, maybe fandom isn't a healthy choice for you.

ANYWAY! The game is super fun and I totally recommend it! I'm actually not a fan of video games (normally I just watch lets plays) but I really enjoyed playing through the two chapters that are out so far and I can't wait for more to come out!! Hopefully you get a chance to play it!!

Also yes, Ashley is very hot. I want to thirst over her from a distance though and I hope she's never within a 1 mile radius of me for my own safety. Ashley, I promise I'm a lesbian and I have no interest in your greasy brother.

[navree]

Was Visenya the third wheel in the romantic relationships between the conquerors? Seems like Aegon loved Rhaenys very much if he was willing to love his son by her so much despite his flaws. Aenys was a total daddy’s boy. Maegor was neglected by his father, despite them both being a warriors and having so much in common. The dynamics is pretty complex

So true anon, the dynamics are complex, that's why I love this set of characters so much and I find them the most fascinating and refuse to shut up about them and why once the strikes are over and the entertainment industry gets its shit together I should be in charge of the Conquerors show for HBO.

Conventional wisdom in Westeros dictates that yeah, Visenya was the third wheel. In universe, it's a very old adage, when talking about the Conquerors, to say that Aegon married Visenya out of duty, but married Rhaenys out of desire. According to Targaryen tradition, Aegon was always going to have to marry Visenya, as she was the eldest daughter and he was the only son, and that he did that because he had to, but then added Rhaenys to the relationship in order actually have the woman he wanted, the woman he was in love with. And it is used to justify things like his closeness to Rhaenys vs his distance from Visenya (the ten nights spent with Rhaenys for every night spent with Visenya thing, for instance) and the reason why he prioritized Aenys over Maegor. And again, never been one to knock headcanons, if your interpretation of these dynamics is to go along with the conventional wisdom, then have it, there's indeed drama to be mined there. But it's not mine.

If you go through my answered tag, you're probably gonna find a lot of my varying thoughts on the Conquerors and their relationhips, I'd link but people have asked me a lot of questions about it and I'm honestly kinda lazy rn, and I'm more than happy to repeat myself. I don't think that there necessarily was a third wheel in the dynamic while all three Conquerors were alive, or if there wasn't, it wasn't the one traditionally thought of. My view has always been that, while Aegon wasn't ever attracted to or interested in Visenya, neither was Visenya attracted to or interested in Aegon (or even men at large, for that manner). For me, both Aegon and Visenya were in love with Rhaenys, and a love triangle between the three Conquerors would have been Visenya and Aegon competing for Rhaenys's affections, rather than Visenya and Rhaenys competing for Aegon's. Visenya never seemed to have any problem with Rhaenys being included in the marriage, in Rhaenys being entrusted in battle commands or specifics parts of the Conquest or in her roles of administration, and Visenya is never recorded as having voice any displeasure or otherwise shown herself to be annoyed with Aegon spending more time with Rhaenys as a romantic and sexual partner than he did with her (and this would have been something people were on the lookout for and would have written down, so stands to reason there's no evidence of displeasure because there was none). So yeah, my personal theory was that Visenya was in love with Rhaenys, while viewing Aegon only as a little brother, and while I tend to fluctuate on whether Rhaenys returned this sentiment and allowing Visenya to express her romantic desires in turn based on how angsty I'm feeling that day, these three seem to have been relatively content with their situation and happy with their lives up until the First Dornish War. The chronicles we have, based on F&B and TWOIAF all seem to point to Aegon and Visenya's relationship deteriorating after the First Dornish War, and Rhaenys's death, not before. Whatever led things to go so wrong between them to the point where Aegon wasn't getting involved in the life of their son and Visenya was willing to usurp his and Rhaenys's line for the sake of her own seems to have its roots in that war, not in Rhaenys being introduced to the marriage. It seems to me, based on what we know about her personality (someone kindhearted and very well liked who seemed to engender love in most people she met as well as just the baby of her family), that Rhaenys was the glue holding the three of them together, and that Aegon and Visenya, aka a solitary and introverted man and a very stern and serious woman now without that brighter and kinder and softer element that was Rhaenys, fell apart without her. They didn't know how to comfort each other, how to really do anything other than unite in their anger and grief and burn Dorne to the ground for two years straight. Aegon's unilateral decision to end the war with Dorne, without Visenya's input and likely against her desires, very much didn't help matters, and that was when Visenya and Aegon started to pull away from each other. At that point, Visenya probably was the third wheel, just the third wheel to the relationship of Aegon and Rhaenys's ghost.

(will i ever be able to answer one of these questions without bringing up that accursed godforsaken war? idk it hasn't happened yet all angst roads lead to the first fucking dornish war)

I think Aegon's relationship with his sons is a combination of a lot of factors. For one, I'd like to hope the man would love his child no matter what, just because that's his child and children shouldn't need to earn their father's love by being more like that or catering to their whims (a lesson Viserys I clearly didn't learn and why he's in Hell now). I'm gonna be charitable and say that Aegon was willing to love his son in spite of any flaws he might have simply because, you know, that was his son. There's also a lot of factors that go into prioritizing Aenys in spite of their differences of personality. For one, yes, Aenys was the son of his preferred wife, and a wife who died young and died tragically and that Aegon likely remembered fondly whenever Aenys did anything that reminded him of her, and we know that Aenys definitely took after Rhaenys in some similar personality traits and similar loves for things like music and patroning singers and dancers. For two, Aenys nearly died himself incredibly young. He was, I think, three years old when his mother died and he essentially had his nervous breakdown, and it's canon that not only was everyone worried that he was going to die, but Aegon himself was despairing about the situation before Quicksilver hatched and bonded with Aenys, allowing him to recover. Aegon was a very recent widower whose only child at the time had a major healthscare at a frighteningly early age, and it's entirely natural that, even after Aenys recovered and grew up relatively healthy, Aegon would always have the memory of that time his toddler almost died in the back of his head coloring every interaction these two ever had, making him more doting and protective than he might have been otherwise. For three, Aegon also had to look to legal matters. Aenys is his eldest son. Westeros, even when split into seven kingdoms, by and large practiced male dominant primogeniture, where the eldest male descendant was the one who inherited. So Aegon, likely to continue the trend of keeping Westeros as a cohesive unit and following Westerosi customs and laws, would have been well aware of the fact that Aenys was set to inherit his throne once he died. We know that Aegon was aware of the importance of assimilating into Westeros, it's why he converted to the Faith of the Seven and followed other Westerosi continent customs once he was king. If Aegon had decided to forego that tradition and just decide that the new custom was that the heir was chosen out of whoever the person giving the inheritance felt was the most worthy, that would cause a lot of consternation to a lot of lords, not to mention just make the system of inheritance incredibly more chaotic than it was, which is bad news for him as someone ushering in a new age and hoping to create a dynasty. So he decided not to do that, because it wasn't what he wanted to happen and wouldn't have served him, and instead focused on trying to help his son prepare for the task. And Aenys gets a bad rep, but he wasn't hopeless, he had his flaws like his hesitancy and his insistence on seeing the best in people, but he was an adequate fighter and intelligent and clever and a dragonrider in his own right. It's entirely reasonable that, combined with Aegon's love for him as his child, Aegon decided that preparing Aenys for kingship irregardless of his shortcomings in the battlefield was the best course of action for the realm and his family.

And then on the flipside of all of this doting, loving fatherliness and protective nature and determination to do right by Aenys and the law, we have Aegon basically, yeah, neglecting Maegor. That's also probably due to a lot of things, that he was in charge of ruling a country and all of his progresses and making sure that his chosen heir, Aenys, was prepared to rule and spending time on that, but also his relationship with Visenya. Visenya and Aegon literally couldn't even be in the same city at a certain point, I think either when Maegor was really young or even while Visenya was still pregnant. It literally had to be Aegon in King's Landing and Visenya on Dragonstone, or vice versa, they couldn't stand to be within miles of each other. And with Visenya likely making sure that she was the primary parent responsible for Maegor's upbringing and education, that meant that Aegon wasn't spending any time near Maegor, because it was time near Visenya. Aegon also clearly wasn't putting in anywhere near the effort he was with Aenys, likely because of the relationship he had with Maegor's mother versus Aenys's. Cuz you're right anon, Aegon loved Rhaenys a lot, he married her against all common tradition and kept her as a wife and a queen and wanted her to be the mother of his children to carry on their family line, he trusted her as a battle commander and as a co-administrator, he was devastated when she died to the point of being almost suicidal and clearly still cared about her long after she was gone to the point of openly expressing emotion about her years later, which is not something that he did. And this probably did bleed into his determination to be close to their child. And on the flipside, you have his relationship with Visenya, which actively took a turn for the worse right when Maegor came onto the scene, and never improved and got progressively more bad the more he grew up, which meant that even if Aegon loved his second son (and I believe he did, he still showed an interest in Maegor at least in terms of battle prowess and knighted him himself), he was more willing to favor Aenys and spend less time with Maegor cuz it meant less time with Visenya or being reminded of Visenya. It's also important to note that we really don't know anything about Aegon as a person. We know he was a prodigious warrior, yes, but he never entered tourneys and was more willing to give command to others when he needed. Perhaps he was more like Aenys personality-wise, maybe he was naturally inclined to be more interested in academic pursuits and was a warrior out of necessity, even though he was more naturally gifted at it than Aenys. We know that Aegon was a solitary person, yes, but nowhere is he recorded as having the same antisocial tendencies that Maegor did. It could very well be possible that, as a person, Aegon had more in common with Aenys's personality than he did with Maegor's, given how little we know of him, but that's just conjecture on my part. I also just wanna point out that Aegon probably had more of an incentive to spend time with Aenys as opposed to Maegor due to the fact that Maegor had another parent to pick up the slack where Aegon was concerned. If Aegon neglected Aenys, he didn't have his mother to make sure someone was still taking care of him and showing him parental love, because his mother was dead. Visenya on the other hand was still alive, and Aegon probably felt that he didn't need to spend as much time with Maegor because of that. Maegor could be raised by his mother, and Aenys would be raised by his father, and then all the other stuff came in as well to create the situation at hand.

Aegon's relationships with his children was absolutely colored by his relationships with their mothers, but in my view it was less along the simple lines of "Aegon and Rhaenys with Visenya always as the odd one out" and more about how there were a series of dynamics at play that worked relatively well when Rhaenys was alive, but the fallout of her death was so extreme that it changed how Aegon and Visenya in turn interacted for the remainder of their lives, which bled into Aegon's treatment of Maegor as opposed to his treatment of Aenys and the emotions involved with his love and grief for Rhaenys and wanting to do right by her and their child, along with dynastic concerns and his own love for Aenys in his own right. As I've said a lot of times, there's not ever going to be a very concrete answer to this. Fire & Blood isn't in the habit of giving firm answers to anything, and this era in particular is so devoid of actual facts when it comes to dynamics and personalities and so filled with rumor and agenda that any theorizing basically goes into "personal headcanon" territory very quickly, and everyone's allowed their interpretation. But my reading of the text and my own additional thoughts on filling in the gaps have led me to these particular conclusions, and that's my canon when it comes to Visenya and Aegon and Rhaenys, and their children.

[tokiro07]

Writing a Chainsaw Man set for Fandom Negators made me start thinking about Jujutsu Kaisen

Yuji, Unstrange - negates Yuji’s status as a stranger to others, giving them a sense of familiarity with him; in particular, people tend to view Yuji as an old friend or a sibling, to the point that they insert him as a key figure in their memories. Yuji has no way of knowing what they see or what expectations or standards they will now hold him to, but they will accept him as their precious friend/brother regardless of his actions

Sukuna, Unattach - negates points of connection, as if cutting them; normally, Unattach would require the user trace their finger or an object along a clearly established point of delineation (i.e., the elbow is the connecting point between the arm and forearm), but due to Sukuna’s many years of experience with his ability and his interpretation that every single cell, molecule or even atom is a point of connection, he can effectively dice a target with little more than his imagination so long as he has a clear understanding of their coordinates

Yuta, Unfair - functions the same as Unfair in canon, specifically with the current requirement of envy and acknowledgment of strength; wears Artifact The Ring, a ring that manifests a malevolent spirit-like entity from the regrets of the wearer’s past, in Yuta’s case the loss of his childhood friend Rika

Gojo, Untouchable - rather than creating a perpetual barrier as in canon, Gojo’s interpretation of touch is based on the understanding that electron clouds prevent true touch and an infinitesimally small but impassable void exists between all matter; because of this, Gojo’s interpretation of Untouchable allows him to manipulate that void, expanding or collapsing it to control the distance between him and a target without ever allowing them to make contact with him

Geto, Unforgiven - negates feelings of forgiveness in others and amplifies resentment, allowing Geto to manipulate the target based on their feelings; through his heavily spiritual background, Geto interprets resentment as a spirit that curses it’s target and lingers around it; once the spirit manifests, Geto is able to control the spirit as his own familiar

Fushiguro, Unambiguous - negates ambiguity by increasing clarity and definition; normally this would make someone’s senses more clear, but because of Fushiguro’s interpretation, he applies it to the shapes he creates with his shadow puppets, making the image they represent so clear that they manifest as the intended shape

Nobara, Undistinct - negates the distinction between two objects through commonalities between them, such as similar shapes, materials, origin, etc.; by associating two objects together, Nobara is able to transfer damage from one to the other, such as dealing damage to a foe through a doll made in their image or with a piece of their clothing, hair, or other personal belonging; separated pieces such as severed arms also count

Maki, Unable - negates a target’s ability; because of Maki’s own interpretation of herself as someone who isn’t special or remarkable, she inadvertently turned the ability on herself, ironically negating her ability to use Unable on others. making her an otherwise normal human who is qualified to participate in Quests; later, she reinterprets Unable as a sort of handicap ability, using the restriction on her special abilities to improve her mundane abilities, giving her superhuman physical prowess

Inumaki, Unwilling - negates the will of a target by forcing them behave as he commands with his voice; to avoid accidentally giving commands, he communicates exclusively through tonally neutral words like foods, as in his own canon; because the usage of this words carries intention and can be used as a command, technically they should still activate his ability, but his own interpretation focuses more on the words used than the meaning that they carry

Panda, Unblockable - negates guards by sending a shockwave through whatever physical barriers would impede his attacks; abilities like Gojo’s Untouchable can overcome Unblockable because they don’t actually use a barrier to block the attack, they just change the amount of space that the attack needs to travel, making it impossible for the attack to ever reach the target; wields multiple Artifacts that allow him to take on various animal traits; Kung Fu Panda, Planet of the Apes, and Jurassic Park; he spends most of his time in panda form, claiming it’s his natural state

Mahito, Undefined - negates the shape that defines a target; normally an external-targeting ability, Mahito doesn’t actually view his own body as a part of himself, rather an object that his soul happens to inhabit, allowing him to affect his body’s shape as he pleases; because of his own belief that his body is merely a vessel, the damage caused from these transformations is impermanent and non-fatal; similarly, when used on a target, it is their own interpretation of the effects of the transformation that determines its fatality

Kenjaku, Undead - negates his own death, but rather than healing the user’s body as in canon, Kenjaku interprets death as the passing on of the soul into the afterlife, and so continues to live indefinitely by transferring his consciousness into a new body; he can do this at will if he likes, but if his current body is killed without a preferable host nearby, he is simply transferred to the nearest, most intact corpse

[a-tale-of-legends]

Some Legendverse PLA thoughts ( a lot of it is based on discord talks)

The Clans have more agency than they do in the games. They don't require the Galaxy's Teams help all the time, nor do they have the Galaxy Team make all the calling shots. The three operations are all equals here, or (if anything), The Diamond and Pearl clan have more power due to Hisui being their home and as their home, they know more shit about it than the Galaxy Team ever has. Yes they will use this knowledge against them if needed.

No more of the whole " your tradition makes you wrong" approach. Melli has a right to be more faithful in his tradition than what the Galaxy Team has to say.

Also! If we really want to make the frenzied nobles more of a threat to both people and pokemon, make it clear. Maybe the energy that they were hit with is too much, even for them. Some lose themselves to the frenzy, like how Lord Kleavor did, hurting people and pokemon. In the case of Lord Avalugg, he still did nothing to harm people, but the energy that was stirring inside ended up hurting him. He was getting sick. He was dying. The only reason the player/Sakura had to fight him was because he was at a point where he couldn't hold back that energy anymore( Also! This would have been a good place to introduce Lady Zoroark and Michi. Lady Zoroark may know that Lord Avalugg is not well, making Michi involve herself into the plot more).

I want someone else to coin the name Sinnoh for Hisui. Yeah, I know Kamado doing it is him 1) actually believing the culture of the diamond and pearl clan and 2) an act of redemption? I guess? But as someone who likes Kamado's character ( not what he represents), he shouldn't be the one who remained Hisui. I think Adaman and Irida should have.

CHARACTERS ACTUALLY TALKING TO EACH OTHER. Like the lack of character interaction is baffling.

Okay some character stuff:

Adaman is the leader of the Diamond Clan by name. If you were to ask the Clan who they would listen to, however, it's Mai.

I think Adaman's willingness to stray a little bit from his clan's traditions to find more solutions may weaken their opinion of him. Or keep their view of him the same as the Clans " Brother" rather than " Leader". Again, Mai is often favored when it comes to leadership and making decisions. Does this hurt him? Oh yes definitely. But he tries to hold a " whatever happens, happens" front, possibly to ease tension.

Adaman is an excellent leader btw. His ideas and ways of thinking are really good. It's just that almost no one in his Clan can see past " Big/Little Brother Adaman".

Irida's situation is the opposite. She values and sticks to her clans traditions, which is not a bad thing, but it then becomes her clan expecting her to continue these traditions, regardless of her emotional input. This is what caused the rift between her and Palina- an act of betrayal between sisters.

Irida is known to put the Clan before herself ( again, not a bad thing), but I feel like she also learns to let go a little. Be a little selfish. Embrace ideas that don't exactly fit with her culture and traditions.

As for Adaman, his arc is a bit more rough. He does, eventually, get tired of being belittled by his Clan ( I don't think it's intentional, they all love him, but he's still a leader and he wants to be treated as such), so he, in a way, tries to act more like how Irida did during the beginning of the game. It doesn't go over well, since his Clan members act more like family than anything. To put a distance between that weakens morale. Adaman does get his chance to vent, and the two sides reach a better understanding!

I don't want Ingo to have that much of a big role in pla, but more than what he was given in the base game.

He mostly spends his time with either Michi, helping with their search and rescue ( some more hopeful than others) and in Jubilife Village. Oh and the general pearl clan. AND with Melli I want them to be friends.

Because of this, I want him to learn different perspectives. Talk to different people, get to know them, learn what they think about the different events that goes on in Hisui. I think he would very much enjoy learning about the Pearl Clan's traditions, even if some don't exactly trust him.

He does act like an uncle to others. It's in his blood/j.

Even if Ingo isn't talking he's listening. I think he's really good at that.

He has to hold back Michi from going for Kamado's neck ( he's pissed too, but he rather not have bloodshed)

.....I think Cyllene should have become in charge of the Galaxy Team after the main plot. I don't want an " everything goes back to normal" stuff with Kamado, even if he apologizes and understands what he did was wrong. It's just not right, to me, tohim go back to a position of power. One which he clearly abused when he was feeling paranoid. So yeah, I think Cyllene is probably the new head of the Galaxy team. She's still in charge of the Survey Corps of course. That's her true passion.

Idk what would happen to Kamado. Maybe he quits the Team and learns to cook and make tea with Beni and Zero idk.

There's so much more I could say but this is getting long/ I'm getting lazy hgvhvgvgvcg.

[rahbid]

so! jezebel and aspd. and comorbid autism. and her view of others and bonds.

jezebel does not attach to others like a healthy person does. to preface this, the models for her attachment in her childhood were

her father parading her as a weapon and personal feat of his research

being able to take care of a few stray cats in malifais

two brief crushes within the convent, wherein healthy affection was punished and the girls sought alternative ways to express affection for one another without being caught, such as blood promises and calculated stabbings

and then, in her later adolescence, as she's trying to heal from her damaged sense of attachment: her brother dies horribly and she enters a pseud-"relationship" with elijah, an obsessive assassin determined to make her her "true self" again by intentionally stalling ( and occasionally destroying ) her progress im therapy.

thus, her concept of attachment and ability to attach is not exactly secure. truly, it was a combination of the later two major experiences that left a crack in her psyche that makes her struggle with attachment.

when jezebel "attaches" to someone, typically, it is not uncommon for her to view them almost in the vein of being a possession. this is not to say she dehumanizes or mistreats them. in fact, she goes to great lengths to ensure they do not come to know what goes on in her mind, for fear it will ruin the relationship she's formed with them. however, if one plays close attention, this will show in other ways.

jezebel enjoys playing the role of a provider with people she has come to view this way. she will buy them gifts, necessities, everything in between. she will invent for them. dote on them. however, to a particularly perceptive sort, it will become apparent that there is a certain level of distance between themselves and her. she is never vulnerable with them. she will typically keep them separate from her other personal affairs and especially her professional life. there's simply a lack of emotional intimacy from her in most instances.

and if a particular observant lover/friend/etc notices and makes a complaint? she'll fake it. she'll get misty eyed about things that don't really bother her. she doesn't like lying, she won't lie - she'll simply talk about things she's been through that should've been more traumatic, but she's already handled, such as her father and childhood.

additionally, when jezebel does begin to attach to someone in a more "normal" fashion, when she realizes she wants to tell them about herself and be genuine, when she wants to preserve them more as someone she loves rather than something she takes care of - she gets angry. at herself. disappointed that she's let herself fall for this again. it's a weakness that steals control of her because the truth is, being loved by her is controlling her. she went insane when artemiy died. elijah was the only one that could ever get under her skin.

does jezebel not feel love the way most people do? she doesn't.

does this mean she isn't, in her own way, genuine about her connections? no. it doesn't. she wouldn't act this way if she didn't mean it. she is not trying to manipulate or hurt anyone she engages in these relationships with. it is simply how she is.

other notes:

jezebel will typically not put a label on a relationship unless prompted to. until that point, she will not assume exclusivity and is liable to continue sleeping around to her pleasure. please understand that she does not view this as a form of infidelity and would never cheat on a partner once exclusivity is established.

despite this, she is a possessive person/partner and that can even extend to platonic relationships. she wants to be the number one, the favorite to others. this also plays into why she likes to play a provider role in relationships of all sorts.

she often struggles to separate romantic and platonic feelings. platonic intimacy is very real for her.

[randomtalkswithriddhi]

Communication.

Do breaking a relationship hurts? Does it means its the end of the world?

Is it that big of a thing? 

YES!!!

It hurts. Hell it hurts a lot. Sure! But thats not the end right? 

Why do even this happen??

Just like every coin have two faces, every story has two sides. If you only focus on your side and don't even try to understand the other person's point of view, then it is a mistake and that's the most hurtful part for the person in front of you, your partner and also for you. 

Not all the girls are similar and neither are the boys. Most of the time an individual thinks that his/her partner broke things off because of their appearance or looks. They might think they are not good enough for their partner. But those aren't the  ' only' reasons. Priorities, career, family, self love, mental peace , stability, and many more factors are to be reasonable. 

Every person has its own reasons. Rather than getting upset and mad about it or forcing your own decisions upon other's, you should listen to them, try to understand their story, their perspective and support them.  I am not saying try to understand 'him' / ' her' but, understand what they want/need from you. 

These things might be a positive point of view but their's one more thing that affects a relationship badly and that is 'communication'. Yes! Communication. Lack of communication can lead to arguments, complaints, complications, misunderstanding and distance. Yeah, lack of communication can do a lot of damage. But  solving them is more important.  Talking about your misunderstanding and insecurities is necessary. I have heard somewhere that 'communication is one of the most essential key for a healthy and successful relationship '. If the conflict isn't resolved it will only disturb your relationship and mess with your mental health. And i personally think that in a relation of any two individual people, their shouldn't be a third wheel to resolve your issues. Whatever happens remember that 'you are on your own'  in a relationship. And when I say relationship, it doesn't mean 'only' between two young adults couple. It can be a relationship of 'Mother-Daugther' , 'father-son', 'teacher-pupil', 'sister-brother' even two best friends. 

I know it's hard not to involve other person in an issue but trust me it's no good. Their interference in one's matter can only ruin the case. What people think or what their opinions, advices are, are just like bubble. It's not real but illusional. so just listen to them, dont react according to them. Because managing and handling a relationship is very delicate. Every Emotion, every moment is extremely precious. And it will not even take less then 5 minutes to ruin it if you keep listening to others " the third wheel" rather then your heart. 

So Think twice before you take any step and ruin/ breaking it. Listen to your heart. Keep your thoughts pure and positive. Because if you are happy, you can keep surrounding happy. 

Love,

Riddhi

[hansensgirl]

push it to the limit.

summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.4k

pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).

author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.

“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.

“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.

“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.

“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.

“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.

“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.

“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.

The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.

You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.

“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.

It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.

His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.

“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.

It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.

“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.

Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.

Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.

You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.

Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.

“Well, I beg to disagree.”

“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.

He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.

You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.

“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.

The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.

Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.

Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.

“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.

You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.

Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.

Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.

Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.

“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.

“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.

Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.

He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.

Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.

No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.

He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.

Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.

“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.

“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.

“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.

She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.

Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.

The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.

“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.

Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.

“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.

“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.

Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.

“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.

They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.

“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.

“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.

“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.

“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.

A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.

“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.

Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.

You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.

Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.

He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.

His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.

“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.

The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.

But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?

Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.

The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.

“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.

He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.

“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.

You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.

The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.

“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.

“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.

He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.

The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.

You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.

You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.

You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.

“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.

No, no, no, no.

“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.

The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.

“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.

“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”

[separatist-apologist]

Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

[violettelueur]

— GOJO SATORU + KYOTO TECH STUDENTS || GOJO’S CIVILIAN S/O BEING A PARENTAL FIRGURE TO THE KYOTO STUDENTS

↳ featuring : gojo satoru + the kyoto side from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 23 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ request : Hello, good day and good evening, I hope you are doing well. A while ago you made a civilian s/o with Gojo and how the tokyo students see them as a parental figure. If it's no trouble, could you also include how the Kyoto branch would be as well? I'm curious of how would he students, Utahime and Gakuganji would treat gojo's civilian s/o. :3c

↳ barista’s notes : this is going to be the last headcanon for today and tha i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee and please return when you can ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ

Now that we have established your relationship with the Tokyo side of the Jujutsu Tech establishment, let’s see how you are to the Kyoto side.

The person that admires you the most has to be Miwa because she sees you as someone that is perfect for Gojo even if she does have a tiny MASSIVE crush on him.

She will ask you for tips and tricks on how to become more powerful since you are able to fight for yourself due to the training Gojo gives you - it will bring horrible flashbacks for you - but she does admire your bravery to be with him since you are a civilian that didn’t know anything about curses until he came into your life.

Since we know Miwa does have a few younger brothers, she loves how you take care of them and make sure they are well since she did mention to you once that she was poor.

Mai actually took a while to warm up to you since you were just a civilian that was just like Maki, who can’t see curses (she did degrade you for some time, I can’t lie)  However, once she saw how you were like with Maki, she did become somewhat jealous because her older sister now technically had a parental figure.

So when you come over with Gojo or when she visits Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, she will make the effort to come up to talk to you since you did tell her to ‘take her time’ and with one pat on the head and a sweet smile, she is instantly hooked onto your arm.

Now since Mai and Miwa had a good relationship with you, Nishimiya already has a protective aura around you because of her views on women being treated unfairly in the jujutsu world and since you were just a civilian, she is more worried about you since you are one of the reasons why Mai gets to smile again and one of the only people that sympathise with her because you understand her point of view - she is, on the low, scared to lose you.

Now with the boys, Todo is someone that respects you since you are quite brave for being with the Gojo Satoru but you are his one way to contact Okkotsu to ask him for a re-match.

No matter what, when he sees you, he will always greet you with a smile and ask if you could call Okkotsu for him and to be honest, you do it because it’s funny to hear Okkotsu calling you for help.

Mechamaru is someone who will talk to you here and there and sometimes (when he is comfortable) will tell you about his feelings and how he wants to be with everyone - leading you to open up to them about how you wished to be stronger causing him to feel more at ease with you.

He doesn’t admit it, but really loves talking to you here and there since you treat him like the person he is rather than the robot he is confined to use to communicate to people - you are someone that he definitely once met when he is able to physically.

Now Kamo was a difficult one to break into because of his position within the Jujutsu world and how much of a difference there is between you and him.

You remind him of his mother and he will try to keep some distance so he doesn’t get too attached but he will make the means to communicate with you.

When you tell him that it’s okay to talk to you when you are ready, he will take some time to think about those words and take his time to reach out to you - so when he sees his classmates talking to you on the whim like you are their parents, he is encouraged to do the same thing.

Kamo does rant to you a lot about how he wants to find his mother and he does thank you for being the support that you are as his ‘substitute’ you could say - he isn’t good with words.

You treat the Kyoto side the same as how you treat the Tokyo side because all of them have a different past that they trust you with even if you are a civilian and Gojo can see the effect you have on the students.

Gojo is really grateful for how you are able to cope with the pressures around you and really admires you for fighting them - something the Kyoto students can see as well.

Gojo loves you for giving the students something they don’t have when they enrol at Jujutsu Tech and how patient you are for them to open up to you.

I don’t think the Kyoto students will call you ‘mom’ but over time, it will slip up and then the Tyoko side will sense that - little jealousy fight here and there...be honoured.

Gojo will tease him about and say how adorable it is, while they are giving him the irritated look but he doesn’t tell them to call him ‘dad’ because he knows Utahime will make him run laps around the school.

Overall, you are a mother figure to both sides of the school and somewhat their support system when they need comfort and care the most - you are someone they can rely on and someone that tells them why they are a sorcerer (to protect people like you).

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost