#so you get a HUGE FUCKING LINKS MASTERPOST INSTEAD

[notjustjavierpena]

Hurried Morning

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Back already with something for you all. Hopefully you’ll enjoy what I wrote yesterday morning. Ah! I love young Joel Miller, neighborhood dilf.

Summary: Joel neglects himself before you have to leave to give you one last dopamine high.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (minors DNI), clit stimulation, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, Joel has big strong hands and just likes to please if he is in control

Word count: 1.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47667250

Hurried Morning

Joel says that he is merely feeling generous with you as he pulls your half-naked frame into his lap, so that your back is resting comfortably against his broad chest. You want to say that he is simply lazy but it’s not like you are ever going to let that slip from your mouth.

It’s late Sunday morning and you’re both seated against the headboard of Joel’s bed. Sarah will be home just before noon, and Joel has to change his bedsheets, air out the room, have a shower and maybe fix up some lunch for him and his daughter. You, on the other hand, just have to get cleaned up and go home before she is here.

He doesn’t have to tell you about his generosity; you know he is insatiable, giving and generous by now, actually knew about a week after the first night that he had taken you to his bed. You know it is cliche to sleep with the hot neighbor, but no one knows about it yet, so you’ll bask in the beauty of how he makes you tremble until someone finds out that you’re screwing the hot single father. You pray, no pun intended, it isn’t the God-fearing Adlers.

You’re in a loose t-shirt that screams weekend, a Batman logo on your chest, but beneath the hem, a pair of cotton panties with a little bow cover your core. You rest your head against Joel’s shoulder as he rests right hand just above your belly button, it seeming undecided at whether or not to go down. His left hand is placed on top of your thigh, scratching slightly until you shiver.

“Do you have a plan with those hands?” You ask him.

“We ain’t got much time,” he muses with a sigh in his pretty little Texas accent. You squirm a little, “I’ll just have to forget myself for a moment, hopefully I’ll forgive myself for it.”

“You’re not going to fuck me?” You ask with disappointment in your tone but the left hand curls around your thigh to pull it a little to the side, opening you up for him.

“‘Fraid not, sweetheart, but I’ll have you chanting my name anyway,” he spreads out your other leg too, noses along your throat and grins into your skin as he sees your toes curl in anticipation.

“O-okay,” you reply, simply waiting for more.

Joel kisses your throat then, right hand descending to hover over your underwear. He only hesitates for a split-second before he cups your sex, fingers sliding over your cunt and then rubbing his whole palm over you to feel the warmth radiating through the fabric. You sigh contentedly.

“Feels good?” He asks, holding his hand there for a moment and a bit of slick seeps out of you. For someone who said that you were short on time together, he sure is taking it.

“Yes,” you try to breathe in deeply but the breath ends up hitching in your throat as he finds your clit on the outside of your underwear. The pads of his index- and middle finger rub slow and lazy circles.

“So this is what we’re gonna do,” he booms behind you. You ready yourself for instructions, “I’ll make you come on my fingers, and then you’re gonna go home and not think ‘bout me all day and night. Night, do you hear me? Especially all night.”

Oh good lord, that went straight to your pussy. You nod quickly, “Whatever you say. I’ll do it.”

The fingers on your clit disappear again but only so Joel can use his thumb instead, and you’re reminded of how huge his hands and fingers are. He presses down on your sensitive nub for a moment, and blood rushes between your legs.

His free hand goes from your thigh to slide up under your t-shirt, cupping one of your breasts to squeeze before his thumb and forefinger tease your nipple. It hardens immediately, and you instinctively buck up your hips. It makes Joel hum behind you, and soon, you feel his generous size poke into the small of your back. It is unbearable to remember that he told you that he won’t put it in you.

“You don’t have to say anything, I know,” he tells you as you moan into the room, turning your head so your face is towards his jaw. You have your eyes squeezed shut as he scratches a little from side to side, making you clench around nothing but emptiness. He continues speaking filth, “I know, baby. I’ll touch you properly soon. Hang in there.”

Your legs shift a little on the sheets when he starts going in circles again, coaxing more arousal out of you until your panties feel sticky. To think that you were happy that you had a pair that wasn’t ruined by him, and with a chance of being dry underneath the jeans that you were going to wear as you walked home later.

You moan a little louder as a bolt of arousal pulls from inside your cunt and goes to your clit. You can feel it pulse against the fabric, against Joel’s thick finger.

“You can have it all, baby— shit, listen to you,” he gropes your breast obscenely, even tugs a little, as he rubs you off with a little more pressure. You want more than this, want him to go inside and relieve some of the pressure that builds inside of you.

“Please, Joel,” you plead shakily, “It’s not enough.”

“I know, never is,” he removes both hands from your body but only to slide them up and down your thighs a few times, finally going inwards to grab on either side of the front of your underwear. He pulls the fabric upwards and taut against your clit, making you whimper as he doesn’t relent quickly again, “Bet you could come so prettily like this. Bet you you’ll go home and do it to yourself later whilst not thinking of me.”

Joel’s breath is hot against the shell of your ear, even slightly elevated from what the both of you are doing. He is still rock hard against you, so you grind back into him.

“Stop,” he commands immediately. His hand flies up to grab the front of your throat, fingers digging slightly into your carotid artery and making your head spin.

“It won’t go away without me,” you pout as he lets go again when your hips have stilled.

“This ain’t about me,” he tells you, then follows up patting your swollen cunt a few times on the front of your underwear. You keen, and he shushes you softly, “This is about you. About her.”

The fabric has smoothed out once more after Joel had to let go of it, so now, both of his hands slide underneath the waistband to touch you directly. He trails a finger from each hand over your labia, expertly avoiding your clit. They go down, one scooping up some of your slick by dipping into your for just a second before going back up.

You are shaking like a leaf, a string of noises leaving you. They were supposed to be words but it’s like you have lost connection to the part of your brain that controls speech. Joel chuckles behind you.

He rubs your clit again with his arousal-covered finger for a moment but then decides against it. For less than a second, you start to feel the pressures in your lower abdomen fade but then Joel uses his other hand to pull back the hood of your clit. When his slick finger starts touching you so directly, you can feel it spike immediately again. It is intense. You thrash on the bed.

“Fuck!” You cry out and look down where his hands are in your panties, moving and straining pornographically underneath the fabric, “Keep going. You’re— you’ll make me come like this.”

“That’s not the plan,” he growls in your ear, panting slightly but not making any effort to stop what he is doing, “I’ll make you fucking gush, yeah? Just like last night. Sheets have to be changed anyway or I’ll smell you on them and fuck my hand without getting any shit done around here.”

“Then do it,” you buck up into his hand like before, but this time also lifting your hips off the bed just slightly. Joel removes the finger from the hood of your clit to slam down your hips again, but despite everything, it just feels nice to not be so directly touched. You don’t want to know what you could’ve missed if you had come right now.

Roughly, the way you like it, Joel pulls your panties to the side. He reaches further down and shoves two fingers inside of your cunt, tilting his wrist downwards to finger against your g-spot quickly. The wet squelches of your wetness fill the room along with your mewls as your orgasm builds again without warning.

Your hands find purchase on Joel’s strong thighs but it still doesn’t feel like enough. Something is building right behind your clit, all muscles around your womb tightening like a coil being pulled. You want it, want it to snap.

“Please, please, please, oh fuck, Joel, make me come,” you are inconsolable, knowing that you’ll start sobbing if it doesn’t happen soon.

“Should’ve had a mirror right in front of us, so you can see my fingers sink into your little pussy,” he moans for the first time, feeling your walls flutter around his two digits and your clit throbbing against his index finger on the other hand. He rubs you and fucks you open in earnest.

Your right hand reaches up to cup the back of his head, fingers curling into the soft hair at the back of his neck. You hold on for dear life, pulling then to embrace what is coming. Joel growls behind you.

And then it happens. Everything that has been pulled tight releases into a high that has you feeling like you’ll melt into the mattress or lift off into the air from it. Your legs shake violently, and as soon as Joel notices the first spasm of your cunt, he pulls his fingers out to see the wet gush that leaves you and forms a stain on the sheets. He fingers you again and repeats the move, watches you gush a few times more.

You quickly grab at his wrist with a sharp intake of breath when the over sensitivity sets in. He stops moving his fingers on you and instead cups what he feels is his more than yours.

“Christ,” you hear him mutter, attempting to rub your cunt soothingly but you whimper, gripping his wrist tighter. He kisses behind your ear, “Wore the little plaything out, didn’t I?”

“What time is it?” You ask quietly, exhaustedly.

“We have an hour,” Joel says after looking at his wristwatch that is on the bedside table, “Think you should take a cold shower, soothe yourself a little.”

“You’re not joining me?” You look up at him with big innocent eyes. They’re pleasing but Joel is strong enough to resist.

“I’ll clean up here, finish up here too or we won’t make it out of the bathroom in time. Can you stand?”

You accept it.

“Yes, hold on,” you crawl off of him, avoiding the wet spot on the bed. You’ll accept anything from a man that has just given you an earth shattering orgasm.

.

.

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[steviestits]

In The Family Way - Part 3.1

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Argyle/Jonathan Rating: E Summary: The Munson family has never had the typical values that most modern Americans have as they find thrill in all that's mysterious and spooky. Steve Harrington, a black widow omega, hadn't known this when he mated with the family's eldest alpha, Eddie, and thought that he'd be another easy mark that he could kill to inherit the millions that Eddie owned. However, not only do all his murder attempts fail, but Eddie actually enjoys them! And to make matters worse, the alpha wants to try for a pup! Steve has to find a way to off Eddie for good, before he gets pregnant and maybe actually falls for the death-crazed alpha. (Addams Family Values au set in the Omegaverse after the events of the movie with Steve as Debbie and Eddie as Fester) Trigger Warning: Attempted Murder as a love language, Mpreg

THERE IS EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, ONLY CONTINUE IF YOU'RE 18+!

(Link to previous part)

When Jonathan and Argyle first became mates, Eddie had thought that he’d never have an omega of his own. He’d always been a little too creepy, a little too kooky. He wasn’t the right kind of mysterious or spooky like his adopted brother. In all honesty, he was all together ooky for someone from the Munson family, which made him the less desirable brother. A freak even among the freaks according to an unsuccessful blind date and her conjoined twin.

That’s why Eddie had been surprised when Steve expressed interest in him. Steve was such a beautiful omega, like a bloom of oleander or foxgloves. The very sight of him made Eddie’s heart race and pulse quicken in the same way one might experience when a pack of wolves was chasing them. To believe that the feeling was mutual was beyond Eddie’s wildest dreams, yet here they were, mated with Steve bent over the kitchen counter as they attempted to pup him.

They developed a routine over the past month and a half where Steve would seduce Eddie with attempted murder before Eddie bent him over the nearest surface to fuck the omega until the alpha’s knot popped. Today, for example, Steve had invited Eddie into the kitchen for some crème brûlée but used a flamethrower instead of a blow torch. The ends of Eddie’s hair had been singed, but that didn’t stop him from bending the omega over the counter to start fingering him until soft, delightful mewls were escaping from Steve’s mouth.

“Eddie!” Steve whined with ragged breaths. “Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” Eddie asked, as if he didn’t know what the needy omega wanted.

“Knot me! Alpha, need you to stretch my pussy with your huge knot! Please, want it so badly!”

Eddie removed his fingers, wiping the slick onto his jeans before he undid them to pull out his cock. His little minx of an omega had stopped wearing underwear after their second night together, so it was easy for him to hike Steve’s pastel blue skirt up and thrust into him with one fluid motion. When Eddie did, however, he couldn’t help but pause as he enjoyed the feeling of the wet heat that encased him.

“Move!” Steve growled. “Fuck me, damn it!”

“Patience, my pet,” Eddie cooed, moving a hand to rub small circles into the omega’s hip. “Let me enjoy you first.”

Huffing, he asked, “What’s there to enjoy? It’s the same pussy you fucked yesterday.”

“Maybe it is, but it’s also the pussy of my mate, so I’ll never get tired of it.”

“Whatever. Just make sure to fuck me some time this year or you won’t live to see the next one.”

Red colored the tips of Steve’s ears despite his harsh words, which Eddie found endearing. He found that he loved teasing the omega until venomous threats dripped from Steve’s tongue and every bit of the omega was flushed pink with wanton desire. Sweet sounds would keen from Steve’s throat, as well, making the temptation too great, so Eddie had to play with his mate each time simply to see this beautiful side of him.

Eddie wasn’t cruel, however, and soon began to thrust into the omega as he wished. With a small whine, Steve adjusted himself, spreading his legs wider, but he besides that, he didn’t move, allowing Eddie to do all the work. Not that Eddie minded, he relished in pleasuring his omega, nearly finishing early whenever he found just the right spot that made Steve deeply moan in such an unintentionally sensual way.

All of Steve’s little sounds drove Eddie right to the edge, only he refused to cum first. He’d done that on their honeymoon, as he’d been unable to last due to him never having sex before then. The disappointment on Steve’s face had been clear, which was why Eddie had developed his training routine of watching different porn movies and reading books about sexual positions. He practiced with toys, working up his endurance in order to give his omega what he needed.

Given that Steve seemed to be desire sex so often, Eddie felt he could safely conclude that his efforts had worked. He’d taken Steve on almost every surface in the house as the omega’s murderous intent had increased since they decided to start trying for a pup. It seemed that Argyle had been right when he had theorized that Steve was being so seductive because he wanted to get pregnant and to start a family of their own.

“Alpha!” Steve shouted with a groan. “So, close Alpha! Want your knot! Want to feel you cum inside me! Please, Alpha! I need it!”

Steve’s pussy then started to contract, roughly milking Eddie’s cock as he came. The attention proved to be too much for Eddie to take, which made him release his seed as his knot popped. He could feel Steve orgasming as the knot stretched his pussy, locking them in place while his belly bloated slightly from the cum trapped inside him. Seeing this, Eddie couldn’t help but reach around to stroke Steve’s protruding stomach while pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“So good for me, Omega,” Eddie muttered before nipping at Steve’s ear. “Do you think it caught this time? Do you think you have a pup in you?”

“Probably not,” Steve said, shifting awkwardly. “It hasn’t been that long since we started trying, and I haven’t gone through a heat yet either. Besides, there’s no need to rush. You’ll pup me, or die trying. I can guarantee it.”

Humming in agreement, the alpha wrapped his arms around his omega protectively. He knew that it was only a matter of time, but he could only imagine how anxious Steve was after going without a pup for so long. The almost desperate way Steve had increased the daily poison whiskeys he mixed for Eddie was a clear indication that he’d prefer that it’d happen sooner rather than later.

“When is your next heat?”

Steve stiffened in his hold. “What?”

“Your next heat, my pet. When is it?”

“Soon... Uh, well, you see, it’s sporadic. No real set date,” the omega explained. “It’s been like that since I first presented. Any day now, probably. I’ll let you know.”

Eddie nodded, not seeing any problem with Steve’s statement. He didn’t know much about omegas given that most of his family were alphas or betas. Plus, his uncle had said that every person’s body was different. What was true for one omega was different from another, so if Steve said that his heats were sporadic then he believed him.

Part 2.3 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 3.2 (Coming Soon-ish)

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Fourteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen

AO3 Link

Author's Notes: Back from hiatus on April 26th! (Chapter 16 is just about polished and I finally made progress for chapter 17). I'm sending huge, huge thank you to my beloved beta and co-pilot, @vampire-exgirlfriend for all her love and support and kindness. There's been a lot of times that I've thought about stopping, about not continuing this story, about maybe just keeping it to myself. It's been her love and very aggressive 'that is DUMB' affection that has brought us close to the end of Arc I.

And a huge thank you to the people who have liked this story. I genuinely would love LOVE LOVE to hear your thoughts. In inbox is open, reblog and tag me, however you want to let me know that you're here <3

we are now entering the 'oh my god these too are so fucking into each other they want to fuck so bad it makes them look stupid' era

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Love the World Like I Should

Grandfather Rodrik shows up with love and gifts, and there's some smooching on the dance floor at Aegon's nameday feast. Also some political anxiety.

King’s Landing was filled to bursting in the days approaching Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Never had Abby seen so many people crush themselves into the Red Keep. ‘More will be at Harrenhal for the wedding’, Helaena had said, their small group seeking solace away from the gaggle of the court for a while. Baela had come with them, overwhelmed with the crush of noise herself, even if she did not admit it. The Princesses Targaryen, Abby, Wylla, little Floris, and Baela’s two ladies had all sought the quietest part of the gardens to hide from the increasingly aggressive attentions.

Now, though, Abby could not hide from the crush of people.

The Reyne retinue arrived in the early afternoon, and while an ancient and powerful house as theirs deserved their pomp, the familial presentation was for Rodrik Reyne, uncle to the Queen Alicent Hightower, and grandfather to the future Princess Abrogail Strong.

Grandfather to the potential future queen, as the whispers and rumors flew around the Red Keep with the coming celebrations. Rumors that Abby wasn’t sure would come to pass, but could not deny that the king’s wishes still might change. That was a future she wasn’t sure what to think about.

His hair was more gray than auburn, thick and wavy as if he were a man of twenty instead of near seventy. Lord Rodrik was tall and broad, an imposing figure on his gray and white courser, its fine white mane braided into little knots along the elegant arch of its neck. To see him and the king that was only feet away from her had a curl of unease snaking through her belly. To look at the king was to see a man wasting away, a man at death’s door. To see Rodrik Reyne dismount with fluid ease was to see a man who, while past the prime of life, clearly had so much left in him.

“Your Grace.” Lord Rodrik mounted the steps, arm clapped to his shoulder in the Westerland sign of fealty as he bowed. “It is good to see you in fine spirits, my king.”

“No finer time than to celebrate such a joyous occasion, Lord Rodrik,” the king said with a smile. Rodrik clasped Uncle Otto’s arm in a firm grip, pleasantries exchanged and his smile broadened as he bowed lower before Queen Alicent.

“You are the light of the seven, aren’t you, my dearest,” he complimented her, genuine to the core. The queen’s cheeks pinkened at the praise and she readily embraced her uncle, fingers grasping his arms.

“We are so glad you are here to celebrate, uncle,” she said. “I am pleased to see you in such fine health and I’m so sorry Aunt Dalla could not come.”

“It is a long journey and she is not as quick as she used to be. She was quite happy to stay back with Daerion and enjoy the children. I am their favorite, after all. It’s only fair that I give everyone else the opportunity to receive some attention.” Alicent blinked as she registered the joke, a chuckle spilling from her as her uncle pressed a kiss to her hand.

Aegon stood between his mother and Abby, and she felt more than saw him straighten up as Lord Rodrik turned his cool blue eyes on him. Age had not shrunk the man, and Lord Rodrik stood as tall as Uncle Otto, and though there was a far less threatening air to him, it made him no less intimidating. Aegon’s chin tilted up to meet the man’s eye and he inclined his head.

“It is good to see you, Lord Rodrik,” Aegon greeted, his voice polite and steady, when not two hours before, he’d been with her in the alcove behind the tapestry of Jonquil Drake frantic with nerves at meeting her grandfather. It seemed like the kisses she’d given him, as well as the growing bruise that was barely visible above the collar of his deep green damask doublet had not eased his worries. “I hope your travels were easy and without issue.”

The last time they’d seen any of the Reynes had been near a decade ago, at her mother’s funeral. They had spent time with her and her father at Harrenhal before coming down to King’s Landing to spend time with the queen and her children, and that event was entirely different than now.

“Good tidings on your nameday, nephew,” he returned with all the formality as if he were addressing him by princely title. “Our travels were well, and it’ll be good to be off the road for some time.” An expression of mischief danced in the pale gray-blue eyes of Rodrik as he assessed the prince before him, eyes catching on the bruise on Aegon’s neck and then glancing at Abby and the arm she had laced through his own. He raised a brow. “It would appear that your betrothal has made a man of you yet, my prince. I might even say you’ve grown an inch or two since I last saw you.”

Heat flushed through Abby’s face and Aegon’s own, his sputter brief and confused as the Lord gave him an amused look, as if he might ruffle his hair had Aegon been a decade younger. Instead, he gave another incline of his head before coming before Abby.

“You are most certainly taller than I last saw you,” he said, cupping her face in his gloved hands, the scent of horse and spice clinging to him as he kissed her forehead. Her hand slipped from Aegon’s arm to clutch at her grandfather’s crimson sleeves beneath his brown leather jerkin, warmth spreading through her chest at the gentle affection.

“Not much taller than this, I’m afraid,” she said, a light, awkward laugh. Her grandfather reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, where the rest of her hair hung in a long, simple braid down to the small of her back. He cupped her cheek, and she caught a shine in his eyes, a slow exhale as the familiar look of grief she knew well crossed his features, aging him in the moment. “I’m very glad to see you, grandfather.”

Rodrik Reyne nodded, pushing past the emotion before moving on to greet the rest of his nephews and niece, and she felt Aegon’s hand slide around her waist, fingers bunching slightly against the crimson and silver damask against her hip. She hid her hands in the belled sleeves, knotting them together and taking comfort from Aegon’s touch. Her chest ached painfully but she gave him a smile when he murmured her name.

“I am well,” she assured him, leaning into him momentarily before their party went inside, her grandfather speaking of the gifts he had brought for all of them.

Over the past days, it had been a bustle and flurry of becoming reacquainted with her grandfather, of suffering through her sister’s company. The apartments that she technically shared with her brother had served as the hub for the activity of their family. Houses Strong, Reyne, and Lannister moved in and out of the modestly decorated space. It had been overwhelming, but with the arrival of her grandfather, Cory’s acerbic tongue and judgmental looks had been averted, and Abby wondered if there was jealousy hidden beneath all that venom. She had fallen into her own acquaintance with the Queen, whom she had known when she’d served as one of Rhaenyra’s ladies when they were young.

Abby also had to organize the gifts brought from the Westerlands that would be sent back with Uncle Simon. Bolts of fine cloth of gold and silver from the expansive Reyne mines, a peregrine falcon, lovely cream and gray with black specks and bright black eyes she’d named Caelus. There’d been books too. A small chest carved with mountains and flowers contained five books, mostly from Myr, and some from Braavos, including what looked to be an interesting treatise from a Volantine woman who advocated for the importance of women’s contributions, and another on teaching woman to cultivate what she had determined as useful qualities, to achieve worthy acts in their lives.

‘A woman’s success,’ it read, ‘depends on the ability to manage and mediate by speaking and writing eloquently and effectively, for men so easily dismiss the thoughts of women, especially when their power is threatened by them.’

Perhaps she should look to promoting more copies of the sumptuously illustrated work. Perhaps she might even try her hand at replicating some of the images therein. There’s been a box of paints and new charcoal among the gifts, as well as a newly bound book for her to sketch in. Abby smiled at the idea, and had tucked it away for later.

“Mind the dress,” Wylla’s voice came from behind, already dressed for the feast and bossing about the red-clad maids of the holdfast who had been helping Abby as she worked to put together her household. Theraxis lay reclined along the end of the bed, his great yellow eyes watching the flurry of maids with such focus as if he too were supporting Wylla’s orders.

“Only a single lady?” Grandfather had balked, perceiving insult before she’d hurriedly cut in, explaining Wylla was more than enough, she did not want to be demanding, and hadn’t needed anyone else.

Wylla had snorted, eyes flashing in the familiar argument. “She’s meant to be looking for more ladies over the course of the festivities,” with all the same annoyance aimed at her as she had aimed at Aegon in the courtyard so long ago. “She needs six at least, but will she listen to me? Nay, she’s a wee stubborn thing and Lord Larys doesn’t seem to push it either.”

The gifts had not stopped there, and she was currently staring, wide eyed, at the most recent one.

The ornate wooden box before her was made of varnished rosewood, with inlays of silver decoration along the edges, and an equally delicate lock that her grandfather had carefully opened with a tiny silver key. The tiara that lay inside was fit for a queen. Ten citrine sunbursts wove together like flowers, the colors of them running from red to gold to orange and in the center of each, diamonds glittered. It sat in the center of the box, resting on a cloth of silver pillow and her mouth went dry.

“Th-this is too much. Grandfather…” Abby’s voice faltered and she lifted her gaze to meet his. Never had she felt so spoiled, so doted on. She felt guilt for it, the way it warred in confusing uncertainty. So long she had never asked for more, and it wasn’t as if Larys was a doting brother who snuck her sweets and trinkets the way Harwin had.

Her grandfather’s gaze was a mixture of annoyance, affection, and more that she did not understand. “It is most certainly not too much, dear child,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. Wylla slightly raised her eyebrows when he wasn’t looking and gently lifted the tiara from the box. “You are the blood of Castamere. You are my blood, my granddaughter,” he had said, cupping her cheek in a warm, rough hand and pressing a loving kiss to her brow. “The realm would do well to remember that you are a Reyne just as the queen is. It is not simply Hightower blood no matter how much my good brother likes to pretend.”

At least her grandfather was honest and she could not blame him for that. This was how the game was played. This was how power was brokered, even Abby understood the simple truth of it. Unlike most, Rodrik Reyne did not hide his motives, and the care that he expressed towards her since his arrival a few days ago had proven genuine. He did not ask her for favors, had inquired about her wellbeing and made sure she had what she was owed to her station.

Wylla’s nimble fingers had ensured the tiara was settled in her hair, twists of braids securing the citrine that matched her hair. The Riverlands style was one that she was glad not to give up and she would not have anyone thinking she was anything but the daughter of the rivers, and now a child of Castamere.

Her grandfather had escorted her down to the queen’s party. The king and her brother and uncle were already in the throne room and she could hear and feel the buzzing of growing anticipation as they approached the antechamber. Her hand rested in the crook of her grandfather’s elbow and her fingers spasmed with nerves. His hand found hers and she looked up at him, mouth parted as if to speak. He smiled at her instead.

“You look so much like your mother,” he said softly, his blue eyes misty and his smile warm. It took Abby aback. She had not seen the Lord Hand smile so openly and honestly. Larys barely smiled and when he did it made her wish to avoid it more often than not. The last man who smiled at her in such openness was her father. “She is here with us and she would be so proud of you.”

“Would she approve of this?” Abby asked softly. It was a silly question, the kind of question a motherless child who could barely remember her own mother asked. She could see the queen through the doorway at the end of the hall, hear Helaena’s laughter echoing along with Daeron’s.

Her grandfather paused and seemed to steel himself. The emotion was plain on his face. The grief was palpable and he did not meet her eyes as he composed himself. “Your mother was in the very fortunate position where I could let her choose who she wanted to marry. She could wait, and find a match that she got along well with. Lord Jason was a possibility, but even if your mother wanted to marry him, I couldn’t let her resign her future to a foppish imbecile like him, Lannister seat or not. She fell in love with your father and he did not demand heirs of her or money or prestige. He simply wanted someone to spend his days with and they found that in one another. That is what your mother wanted for you. A world where you were safe and loved.”

He cupped her cheek and Abby lifted her hand to hold his, feeling her own tears threaten. “The future has one certainty and there will be hard choices to make. Know that your family stands behind you, and that you may be a Riverlands girl, but there is a lion inside of you. They say in the north wolf packs survive together. You are part of a pride and are just as fierce. Dragons could not take the Westerlands and fire cannot burn the rivers.”

“He won’t burn me,” Abby said softly. “I trust him. I… care for him. I want him, not for a title, not for whatever the future may bring. I simply want him and he wants me and we just want to be happy. I think we can make each other happy, Grandfather.”

“Good,” he said and dropped his hand. “Then should the Stranger take me this night, it will be knowing you will be happy.” He gave her a watery laugh, amusement on his face. “And should he mistreat you, then I will haunt him to madness.”

When they entered the antechamber, Lord Rodrik pressed a kiss to her hand and went to join the rest of the gathering in the throne room. Helaena was in conversation with Daeron, and Aegon…

Aegon turned to look at her upon her entrance and his face went slack. She blushed, smoothing her hands over her gown, watching as the candlelight shimmered over the green and blue layers of the skirt, the fabric diaphanous, like currents of water around her legs. Her fingers found the golden dragons embroidered over her waist, intermingling with the glittering red weirwood leaves, worrying at the material. Her slippers were as gold as the dragons on her bodice, peaking out beneath her hem as she closed the distance between them. Aegon reached for her and she slid her hand into his and watched the smile spread slowly across his face.

‘I think we can make each other happy.’

Abby was not meant to be on Aegon’s arm as they entered the feast. He should have been escorting his mother as protocol dictated since King Viserys had entered the feast already. It was a heady feeling to know Aegon would not let her go, even as he was forced to drop her hand so she could tuck hers into the crook of his arm. A thrill that continued down her spine and coiled in her belly with the rest of the bursting butterflies dancing inside that gave her the strength to tilt her chin up as all her lessons instructed her to do. The perfect posture, the perfect gait all came rushing to her in a way that she finally understood why it mattered.

The pride that she felt wasn’t about being Queen Alicent’s pet project, or even that she had somehow snagged a prince for a betrothed. She was Lady Abrogail, heir to Harrenhal, the legacy of her mother’s fierceness and her father’s wisdom. As they walked behind the queen and Lord Otto, Abby squeezed her hand along Aegon’s bicep. She was the daughter of the Riverlands, and Aegon was lucky to have her, for there were many others that she could be with.

He looked at her with clear and bright eyes, the lilac full of mirth in a way she hadn’t seen from him in so long, and there were broad smile lines around his mouth, the flash of white teeth as he grinned at her. His hair was freshly washed, the silver curls gleaming gold in the sea of candleglow. His doublet was new as well - a fine, black silk brocade with a pattern woven in that evoked a shimmer of dragon scales. Golden clasps in the shape of dragon heads gleamed down the center. The seams were piped with red silk, and red silk trim embroidered with golden dragons wrapped around from the center and over his back. The same embroidered trim encircled his sleeves, which were slashed open along the back of his arms from bicep to the buttoned cuffs, the Targaryen red brocade of his shirt beneath poking through.

For the first time, he wore a crown upon his brow. It was a hammered circlet of gold that rested gently around his head, interspersed with seven circles stamped with dragons. Before the realm, he truly looked like the prince that he was.

A son who was celebrated by his parents.

She was lucky to have him. Let them see it. Let Queen Alicent see how brightly they made one another smile when they got to choose one another. Let them see she was not beholden to The High Tower, or to the Targaryens, or to anyone. Let them see that for all they may want to whisper about machinations and intrigue, she wanted him, and he wanted her.

Abby curtsied deeply before the king before they took their seats. Aegon was on his father’s left hand - the place of honor for the evening, and she was beside him. ‘How lucky we are’, came the thought again. She had not realized she had spoken the words aloud until Aegon’s grin widened into a beaming smile, his eyes crinkling with his own joy.

This was how the past weeks should have been. This is what the welcoming feast to Lord Tully and his party should have showcased: the two of them united, happy now, even as they set out to figure out what their marriage would be, what it would look like. There was enough time for that.

“You know, people like us don’t marry for love often,” Wylla had said, words that had stuck to her ribs.

The queen, her brother, and her uncle did not care for her and Aegon’s happiness, that much was startlingly clear to Abby. They had not come together in this betrothal by choice, but beneath the heart tree, they had made a promise. They had made their choice.

As her elder sister, Corynna, and her husband, Erwin Lannister sat beside her, Abby wished for the comfort of Wylla and Heleana at her side. The latter was at the other end of the table, and Abby’s gaze sought the friendly face of the young woman at the table below.

Wylla sat with Uncle Simon and Aunt Mya, looking striking in her black velvet gown. It was cut in the southern style, the neckline edged in white and silver cut across the line of her shoulders, her raven hair twisted into three rope braids woven with white ribbon and strung with pearls. She looked like a dream, Abby thought. A maiden of winter with all her pale skin and dark hair; striking in a way that many other women were not and Wylla wore it well. Harrion was beside her, his head inclined toward a lovely, red haired woman beside him. Wylla had said that his betrothed, Lady Alys Bracken, had only just arrived. She was so slight next to the northman’s bulk, her smile soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughed at something he said.

Wylla caught her eye and sent her a warm, reassuring smile that Abby returned with a little wave, uncaring of decorum at the moment with how shaky her nerves were starting to get now that everyone was staring up at her. Her dear friend had not shied about her own discomfort in crowds, declaring her own relief that she was not the one who would be center of attention in her teasing, sharp yet fond way.

A harsh pinch against her left arm made Abby jump and she turned sharply to look at her sister, who was smiling serenely as if nothing was amiss. “Stop it, you’re behaving like a child,” she hissed behind a gritted smile. “I’ll not have you shame me.”

“If returning a kind gesture and a greeting to someone across the room is childish, then I cannot imagine you have many friends, Corynna, that do not cling to your skirts.” She smiled at her sister, whose saccharine falseness turned quickly to annoyance. “Do mind yourself, Cory. You are not my mother, nor my guardian.”

She caught the sidelong glance Aegon gave her and she felt his warm hand on hers, drawing it to his mouth to press a kiss against her knuckles. Abby felt the spray of heat along her throat, pressing her lips tightly together to keep from biting at her lip and being too obvious. He kept hold of her hand, thumb running lightly along her knuckles in familiar reassurance, and leaned in to speak softly against her ear.

“Lady Abrogail, if that’s the kind of behavior you plan on keeping up, as your husband, it shall be my duty to discipline you for such talk.”

Abby’s mouth went dry, her flush deepening and she glanced up at him, demure beneath her lashes. “Prince Aegon, you get ahead of yourself. I am the image of propriety.” He smirked and they both drew back. Abby reached for her goblet to calm the different sort of butterflies fluttering through her stomach now.

The echo of a staff cracking against the stone floor of the hall reverberated through the hall and all fell silent as the king rose, the queen beside him in what was meant to be a show of unity. But Abby knew that she was there to steady him so he did not have to rely on his cane. The black, red, and gold robe he wore nearly swallowed him whole, and she wondered how heavy it was for him.

Beside him, Alicent Hightower wore the colors of her house instead of a glow of green. She was as regal as Abby had ever seen, in a storm gray damask gown with white flame embroidery along her neck and shoulders. A cape of gray silk felt about her and the gray sleeves of her gown hugged her arms until they flared out at her forearms to bell around her wrists. Her auburn hair was twisted back on the sides of her head before coming to a single twisted braid down her back. Upon her head rested her crown of state. It was a gold circlet with seven points of golden flame rising from it and in the center flame was a blood red ruby that matched the gold and ruby earrings dangling beneath her hair.

“Be welcome,” the king said. His voice had rarely been a strong one, but he had found the strength behind it to let the words carry now. “It is good to see so many happy faces here, as we come together to celebrate my son, Prince Aegon’s nameday.” He turned his head to look down at Aegon with a nod and a gap toothed smile that, while fleeting, was genuine. The people clapped, thumps on tables shaking the cutlery, and Abby grinned at him. Aegon looked taken aback by the well tidings, the shouts of wishes for good health and good fortune. The hand that he had rested on her knee tightened and Aegon straightened in his seat, smiling back and giving a wave of thanks as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him.

The King continued, “The Queen and I also honor House Strong this night. Since my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, landed upon these shores, the Strongs have been a leal and loyal house. Ser Osmund Strong himself was the longest serving Hand, and through the decades, this family has proved themselves time and again, their fealty to the throne and their dedication to the realm. It is why upon the passing of the beloved Princess Rhaena, that my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, bestowed the great Harrenhal to House Strong. It is this dedication that before he passed, our late Lord Lyonel Strong, the Seven keep him, agreed to a proposal. We welcome you all to celebrate with House Targaryen and House Strong as I announce the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon, to the Lady Abrogail Strong, and their investiture as the future Lord and Lady of Harrenhal, under the wise and clement eye of Grover Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.”

The whispers of the betrothal had already snaked their way through the keep over the past weeks. First the servants gossip, then the unofficial talks among the lords who had, by now, sent ravens back home to their holdings in the Riverlands. It was news that had passed naturally among the realm, and while Abby did not see any surprised faces, the cheers that roared up took her by surprise. The slamming fists on the tables, the clapping, the shouts of well wishes and even some crass remarks was not at all what she had expected. She felt her cheeks burn and the flush of it snake across all the exposed skin of her gown. She yearned for the coverings of her linen gowns so none could see how red she had turned at the attention.

Yet, Abby did nothing to hide how large her smile was, so wide it nearly hurt. She met Aegon’s eyes, his own grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she never, ever wanted to see him frown again if this was how bright his smile could be. He then looked at the crowd and she followed suit, waving at the smiling faces, blowing a kiss of thanks to all. She did not startle when Aegon lifted his hand from her knee to tuck beneath the fall of her curls and rest along the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that made her belly roil with heat. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw that his bright smile had set into something darker, more firm.

The feast began, servants coming out of the shadows. Trenchers of roast pork in red wine and plum sauce were placed before them, steaming with scents of ginger and cinnamon. Shrimp cooked in fennel and white wine steamed from large platters, boiled eggs cut and stuffed with fragrant cheese and herbs nestled among salads of other fresh herbs and greens. Abby gasped, admiring the hollowed out Stormland lemons with glistening pieces of Dornish blood oranges and lemon sticky with sugar dotted the table in pops of bright, delectable color.

Aegon was eagerly filling his plate with the roast pork he so adored, and she reached for one of the sour orange treats, popping a sticky piece of fruit into her mouth and hoping it calmed the knot of nerves that were growing insistently.

“They certainly spared no expense,” Corynna’s voice was soft at her side. Abby glanced over at her sister who was commenting on the wine being poured to her husband. Her sister was as beautiful as she was sharp, resplendent in the colors of House Lannister, a ruby red gown that set off her golden skin, and an overdress of golden silk. Her brunette curls were tamed and pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck, encased in a jeweled net of gold and rubies, a heavy lion pendant hanging from her throat. She decided not to engage with her sister’s low commentary, for it was exactly what she wanted, and instead busied herself on the treat in front of her.

“Here.” Abby glanced at Aegon, who held his fork up with a piece of pork. She opened her mouth to decline, and he popped the piece in with that dangerous smirk flashing across his mouth before going back to his food. It was good, the spark of ginger cutting through the sweetness of the plum. It had also served to get her mind off the fact that they were eating at the head table, and she let her gaze drift, ignoring her sister’s tut of disapproval.

Abby caught Baela looking at them curiously. She was beautiful that evening in the colors of her mother’s house. The aquamarine gown was cut in the Pentoshi style like the previous one she wore to their family dinner, with a deep v cut into the bodice and the layers of fabric pinned like a chiton at her shoulders. On her head she wore a silver tiara shaped into the heads of seahorses with matching gemstones for their eyes. Abby gave the princess a small smile. “You look lovely tonight, Princess. I am truly glad to have you here and I look forward to us getting to know one another.”

Baela’s violet eyes narrowed somewhat at being addressed, and Abby felt Aegon shift beside her as he honed in on the conversation. “May your futures be bright and happy, Lady Abrogail. Cousin.”

“Thank you, cousin,” Aegon replied with his tight smile. “Perhaps it will be your nuptials we’ll be celebrating next.” The words were friendly, at least somewhat so. Abby suppressed a sigh, but knew it was at least a small win. Baela did not seem to mind sitting next to Daeron, for the pair of them had fallen into a discussion about their dragons and how Tessarion had fared in Oldtown. “I heard Mother wondering if her and Jace will wed next.”

Jacaerys.

Abby chanced another look at the incredibly awkward end of the table. There was the queen, then Lord Otto, then Larys, and then… Aemond, Helaena, and Jace. The three of them were utterly silent, like mimes in a play, and it was hard to tell what made it worse: the fact that Aemond and Jace had ended up wearing near matching doublets that evening, or the sapphire sun that was Helaena between them.

Aemond and Jace and Baela should have been separated, but Jace could not sit next to her, for the rumors that would cause and so poor Helaena was stuck as the wall to separate them.

She looked every inch the beautiful princess from a song. Her silver hair hung loose and free down her back with four braids keeping her hair from her face. The twists wound themselves into the silver tiara she wore, the sapphires winking out like stars from the woven metal strands that took the place of her usual braid. Her gown was diaphanous silk, her shoulders bared. The sleeves were a light blue and the sheer fabric hugged her arms. The gown went from a lovely sky blue to a deeper shade of twilight along the hem, and the silver embroidery evoked silver flames dancing across the gown. She wore the colors of Dreamfyre, dragonrider that she was, the princess of House Targaryen that did not need to evoke her house colors to state her place in the world.

The look on her face was blank and somewhat wide-eyed, focused on the shrimp in front of her. Abby’s heart ached, wanting to go to her and get her out of the situation she was in, but there was nothing for it. Helaena already grew anxious with crowds and she didn’t need the extra stress of being caught between two petulant looking boys.

Jace tilted his head towards her, saying something that drew a small smile from Helaena, and the knot of worry eased slightly.

The course was cleared away, the minstrels along the side gallery merrily playing songs from each of the realms present there today. Currently it was a Westerlands tune, fewer drums than the melodies of the Crownlands, and Abby caught Lord Tyland’s head bobbing to the music from his place at his twin brother’s side.

The next course was brought out and it was the largest pie Abby had ever seen, along with pottage of wild hare and cabbage, roasted lamb smelling of caraway and fennel and thyme. There was roasted chicken in orange glaze. Her gaze returned to the pie. It was as big as a wagon wheel, the pastry crust browned and caramelized and surrounded by many smaller pies like a crown. The crusts were slivered all around and gilt in gold along the top, and she could smell the saffron and cloves. They were stuffed to the bursting with more eggs and mixed meats and smelled delicious, but Abby’s stomach was knotted with nerves combined with the heady twist of arousal that pulsed every time Aegon’s knee bumped hers, or the way he’d tap his fingers upon her wrist to make sure she was alright.

Aegon inclined his head towards her, waving the servant away and pushing his plate between them. “You’re not eating. We’ll share.” He even pressed his goblet into her hand, taking hers and sipping from it in such an intimate gesture that Abby’s nerves were utterly forgotten about in that moment. She took a sip from his goblet, unsure of what to say. Aegon raised an eyebrow at her. “Eat,” he ordered and she knocked her slippered foot against his boot.

“You’re eating enough for the both of us, Prince. I couldn’t possibly keep up with you.” His appetite was a voracious one, and the plate he’d pushed between them had already started inching back towards him. She stabbed a piece of meat and gave him a look as she ate. He looked only somewhat abashed and popped a piece of crust in his mouth, licking juice from his fingers. She was reminded of the lakeside picnic, and the way his lips felt against her fingers while she fed him, the blushing heat as he fed her cakes in return and the kisses shared.

It must have shown on her face because a wicked gleam flashed across his eyes, gaze drifting to the low neckline of her gown and the gentle swell of her breasts. A voracious appetite indeed. He laughed when she busied herself with her goblet.

“Everyone is staring,” she whispered, unsure if she was chastising him or reminding him. Aegon’s gaze raked along the bare expanse of her shoulders, his hand twitching along his stolen goblet as if he was keeping himself from reaching for her again.

“Of course they are, hunītsos. Let them. Let them see how happy you look.” His gaze grew uncertain for a moment and she understood what words he held back.

“How happy you make me,” she offered softly. It was finally Aegon’s turn to blush, the expression uncharacteristically shy, and Abby could not help but lean over to brush a soft kiss against his cheek. Satisfaction was bright in her chest when his blush deepened before his own satisfaction crossed his features.

Let them witness. Let Edmund Vance and whatever moody River Lord conspired against them see that Aegon was hers, claimed by the rivers.

“Prince Aegon,” Erwin called halfway through the following course - mutton and stag and boar drenched in plum and wine sauces, brown sauces, and surrounded with dates and figs. The youngest Lannister brother was a gleaming gold lion, square faced with bright green eyes. He was not lanky as Lord Tyland nor as haughty as Lord Jason. He was a third son, bred for battle, and while he did not appear to cross swords with her sister, Abby wondered if that was a battle he had no desire to engage in. “I hear you’ll be participating in the melee on the morrow. Do you wield a morning star like Ser Criston, then? Or perhaps a battle ax?”

Corynna tutted, leaning back with exaggeration so her husband might speak. “It was only a matter of time before we talked swords.”

“The Prince is admirable with his sword skills, Erwin,” Abby piped up proudly before Aegon could speak, her turn to boast of him as he had done for her.

Aegon’s hand rested along the back of her chair as he leaned over with a grin on his face. “Some could say. It’ll either come down to skill or my lady’s favor, should she grant me. Mayhaps I’ll have the good fortune of meeting you in the ring?”

“Everyone knows the joust is where one proves themselves,” Baela cut in.

“Prince Daemon was quite impressive with his blade in the last tourney I saw him in, just as he was with a lance,” Erwin said with ease and a smile. “All the bouts require their own skills and strength.”

The conversation of the small tourney for tomorrow kept on, with Daeron joining in. Abby ignored her sister’s displeased muttering and her husband did as well. Perhaps that’s how the peace was kept in their household.

As the dessert course came out, those in attendance began to move about the room. No doubt they were eager to speak of the confirmation of what had been announced, judging by all the gazes that flitted in their direction. There were her favorite strawberry and cream cakes just out of reach, but she found that she had no appetite for the rich confection with the nervous energy building. Instead, she snagged a piece of marchpane dragon off Aegon’s piled plate of treats. He playfully snapped at her as if he was going to bite at her hand before handing her a marchpane crown without comment.

She leaned towards Aegon, brushing his ear and delighting in how he shivered at the contact. Her fingers tapped against his arm. “I’m going to speak to Wylla.”

He reached up to snatch at her wrist. “Stay,” he murmured, eyes searching her face. Don’t leave me alone next to him, she knew he was asking. Abby shook her head.

“We have to mingle, Aeg, We can’t sit up here all night.” He rolled his eyes and Abby tutted. “Go rescue Helaena.”

Aegon glanced down at the miserable end of the table and they spied Gwayne having come up, a hand braced on Aemond’s shoulder as he spoke to Larys and his father. “I’m surprised Aemond hasn’t stabbed him yet,” Aegon muttered and gave a nod. “Is this to be our duty now, my lady?”

Abby scrunched her face up in amusement and took his offered hand to rise from her chair. “Aye, it shall be, my lord. Save me a dance.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and they parted, Aegon going to join his uncle and siblings at the end of the table. She tilted her head, admiring him as he walked from her before heading towards Baela.

When Abby looked at Baela, she was reminded by the statue of Visenya that Aemond favored so in the gardens, or the tapestries that hung in the upper levels of the gallery: women who rode the skies with braids twisted into their long hair, the fierce and determined looks on their faces showing their command of the world. Targaryens were the closest one came to gods in Westeros. This fact Abby had grown with all her life. Everyone in Westeros did. She saw how the smallfolk clamored for the affections and attentions of the dragonriders during parades, the furrowed brows of the septons who disliked the competition to the Seven.

“Princess,” Abby gave the other a bright, welcoming smile. “Come with me, I have someone to properly introduce you to.” There was deference in her tone that Baela was owed, but Abby also clung to the reminder that she was to be a princess too. They would be equals in a few months, and the Queen wanted her to grow accustomed to this fact.

Baela, her lovely, violet eyes narrowed in her direction, seemed to have other ideas. Abby had asked Helaena the other evening what it was that Baela had said in Valyrian, and the princess had only said that she should not worry, for she did not believe Baela would speak so carelessly in the future. The other woman held her gaze, assessing in the way Abby was sure her dragon, Moondancer, would assess and Abby swallowed past the lump of nerves beneath the gaze. She realized after a moment that it was one of uncertainty. It had initially felt hostile - which considering whatever Valyrian she’d spoken upon arrival had been clearly hostile, it made sense - but it had also become clear that the princess was uncomfortable and therefore more judgemental, Abby thought, than she might normally be. At least, Abby hoped that was the case.

“You have people to introduce me to, Lady Abrogail?” The disdain was not obvious, and Abby wondered if this was what it meant to be unaccepted by the Valyrians. The family had kept to themselves since the landing. She had studied the Targaryen family tree in her studies and knew how rarely they married out of the houses. ‘The blood of the dragon must remain pure’, was stated when they’d learned about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism that allowed the practice of incest, and outlawed the multiple wives that The Conqueror and King Maegor had taken.

Would Aegon have wanted multiple wives? Would he have wanted someone more Valyrian to make him feel closer to his heritage? The curious thought flitted through her mind, and Abby felt a stab of jealousy at the idea of such a scenario, along with an uncertainty she couldn’t quite identify, but similar to the feeling of otherness that she found herself experiencing among the company of the other Riverlanders.

“I do. I hope, very much so, that your time here in the capital will be as comfortable as possible. I understand that it must be quite the change from Dragonstone, and the company of the rest of your siblings.” Baela said nothing at first, lips pressed in a thin line before looking down the table. Abby followed her gaze.

Jace and Helaena had a series of tarts and other confections in front of them, and Helaena was laughing brightly at the marchpane tentacles rising from a plum tart. Jace plucked one of them, slathered in cream to take a bite, offering the piece to Helaena who shook her head in amusement and reached for one of the candied lemons.

Aegon had pulled his brother away with a firm grip on his shoulder and the pair of them had headed towards the floor, goblets in hand with heads bowed towards each other. They were accompanied by some of the other young men at court; the Fossoway boys, Ser Leo Costayne, brother to Lord Owen, and their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, heir to the Oldtown seat.

Ser Leo was the eldest at over twenty, his almond eyes from his mother’s Lyseni heritage striking with the silver hair of Valyria that spread across the empire. He had already earned the title of The Sea Lion, the West taking pride in their own fierce seafarer as House Velaryon did with The Sea Snake, Lord Corlys. Little Floris had found him handsome, blushing when her avid gaze had been pointed out by Helaena. Abby had found herself readily agreeing.

At four and ten, Lyonel was as tall as Aemond with the promise to be taller, with the same cut cheekbones Abby could see was a Hightower feature, while Alicent, Aegon, and Helaena shared the soft roundness of their Reyne mother. His skin was swarthy from his Dondarrion mother, a contrast with his lighter brown hair. Her eyes drifted to the group of ladies, colors of the Reach and Westerlands in their clothes, and how they clearly were eyeing Prince Aemond, who was doing his best to pretend to be above it.

Far better for their attention than that of Cassandra Baratheon, who was stoically sitting by her heavy set father, face flushed with wine and quietly hissing at his eldest daughter. An unbidden pang of sympathy pulsed through Abby’s heart at how unhappy the other woman looked, momentarily overriding her displeasure.

Abby turned her gaze back to Baela, whose own eyes were sweeping the mass of people before them. She wondered if the rumor was true of a possible betrothal between Jacaerys and Baela, the future king and queen of the realm. Dragonriders both, in the Targaryen ways of old like Aegon and his wives, like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. She wondered if it had happened already and was simply unannounced, Rhaenyra waiting for the most opportune moment. Or perhaps the pair were simply siblings, mayhaps promises made out of stubborn pride. Would that explain Baela’s disdain for them? Did she see them as interlopers in a place that she considered her birthright by conquest and the Valyrian blood flowing through her?

Baela finally rose, fluid and graceful and confident in all the ways that Abby still found it difficult to be. The other woman stood a few inches taller - not a difficult feat by any means, but Abby was envious of the graceful turn of her neck. She was reminded of the descriptions of Visenya: comfortable in silks as she was in armor. What a sight the other would make upon dragonback with a war cry tearing from her. How confident Baela Targaryen was;in her sense of self, her place in the world, in all that made her Valyrian.

It struck Abby then how she did not feel like a child of the Riverlands no matter what she claimed. It felt as if she were spinning falsehoods into a cloak to shroud herself in, to distract from her own sense of confusion. As they approached the closer table where her Uncle Simon sat with the Brackens, listening to the conversation blend before her in the lilt and familiar cadence of the Riverlands, Abby found herself feeling like an outsider. It had not quite been like this at the welcoming feast those weeks ago, where they spoke the language of the capital. Her mother tongue had been one lost to her over the years since her father died, relegated to the dinner table and bedtime stories, of ephemeral memories of lullabies long sung. To hear Wylla’s own northern brogue share in the words of Old Tongue falling in a similar harmony, panic settled in Abby’s chest to find that she couldn’t quite keep up with the words exchanged.

The panic was frozen when Wylla turned her head, and all at the table gave move to rise and give their courtesies to Princess Baela. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw Baela shift a little, felt the whisper of silks brush against her. “This is Lady Wylla Karstark, from Karhold,” Abby introduced, her voice coming out higher than she intended as she forced past the lump in her throat. Wylla rose, nodding to her brother who was also getting up to speak with some of the other lords.

“Princess Baela, I hope you’re enjoying the festivities.”

Baela inclined her head but said nothing.

“She is my dearest friend and also far from home. Also quite the archer.” Abby reached for things that Baela might find intriguing and welcoming, hoping her instincts weren’t wrong.

Wylla shook her head slightly. “You are too kind, Lady,” she lightly teased with the use of the title.

Baela’s head cocked, the tinkling of the silver charms in her hair soft among the din of the room. “My, all that snow and ice. It’s a wonder you do not melt beneath the dragon’s heat,” Baela said and the challenge was clear in her voice.

Wylla smiled in her sharp way, ever the winter fox. “As a daughter of fire and sea, I would assume you to be well acquainted with contradictions. One must burn hot to survive the cold.”

Baela actually smiled at that and Abby took the chance. “Wylla is a far better archer than I, Princess. I hear you yourself are well acquainted with the bow.” Wylla’s storm gray eyes flitted to her and Abby did everything she could not to shift awkwardly beneath her friend’s gaze. Not in this dress, and not with the sunburst tiara that graced her head. Instead, she grinned back at her. The princess merely glanced back at her before shifting closer to Wylla.

“Do you hunt, Lady Wylla? I hear there’s to be a hunt later this week and I do so miss hawking…”

Abby released a soft breath, pressing a grateful squeeze to Wylla’s shoulder before moving on to her aunt and uncle. Her cousin, Gareth, had stayed behind at Harrenhal, and she had fuzzy memories of her Aunt Mya. The older woman was plump and warm, brushing a soft kiss with a greeting. The din of the throne room grew louder as the meal came to an end, servants dashing between the party goers, removing plates and replacing carafes of wine and small foods for guests to continue to indulge in. The music shifted to a more lively fair and the dance floor quickly filled with eager revelers.

Lythene Ryger of Willow Wood had drawn her into the shy gaggle of maidens who were standing expectantly along the edge of the dance floor, trading glances across the room at the lords and Abby had noticed the looks they’d thrown in Aemond’s direction. Lady Lythene was five and ten, soft featured with honey brown eyes, her strawberry blonde hair woven with strands of river pearls in the common half knot coil that was common in the Riverlands.

“If Lord Yorick were here, none of these men would have a chance to win tomorrow,” Melony Piper said, all dark hair and more freckles than one could count. “My sister says he was the most fearsome knight not so long ago.”

“Psh,” Lythene rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows Ser Gwayne is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, Lord Yorick never leaves Runestone and if he did, Lord Borros would throw a fit.” She looked smug with the knowledge imparted and whatever look on Abby’s face seemed to spur her on. She leaned in. “Lord Yorick is married to Lord Borros’ younger sister with a son of their own. Should Lady Elenda not have a son, it’s said his sister may push one of her son’s claims to Storm’s End.”

As one, their eyes swiveled in the direction of Cassandra Baratheon, perfectly coiffed, and everything the daughter of a Lord Paramount would be. Raven hair wild as storm clouds around her bare shoulders, her golden dress sparkling in the dancing torchlight with an opal the size of Abby’s fist nestled in the hollow of her throat. Abby’s hands twitched, smoothing over the cloud of blue and green silk organza, the golden dragons and weirwood leaves embroidered over her bodice.

A warm hand touched her wrist and Abby met the gentle, honey eyes of Lythene, who smiled up at her. “Tá cuma álainn ort, a bhean,” she said softly while the others tittered. It took Abby a moment to register the words, “you look beautiful, my lady”, and Abby smiled shyly.

“Go raibh maith agat,” she thanked her and Lythene bit her lip as if holding back a chuckle.

“Agat,” she pronounced softly, the inflection different. “A little closer to got, and less like goat.”

Her cheeks burned and she repeated it softly and Lythene took her hand, squeezing it. “I can’t imagine you get to practice with many people here in the South,” she laughed, a tinkling like bells that drew the attention of other men.

“I haven’t. I’m looking forward to getting to speak it more, but I can’t get that sort of practice teaching Aeg- Prince Aegon.”

“You mean he’s actually going to try learning our tongue?” came the aggressive disbelief of Lady Melony. “Targaryens aren’t ones to debase themselves so.”

Lythene opened her mouth but Abby cut in, a frown slashed across her face. “Aegon is a Targaryen and a Hightower, a family that traces their lineage and impact to before the First Men, some say.” She tilted her head, exhaling softly and shook her head. “The Targaryens may be above us due to the gifts of the dragon, but you can be assured that Prince Aegon will take his duties seriously.”

She was reminded of the words Edmund had sneered at her, of how none would trust a dragon coming into the Riverlands and it was foolish to think so. Lythene said nothing, watching her curiously while Melony Piper’s bright green eyes narrowed somewhat, thin mouth pursed. Abby’s grandmother had been a Piper, which made the two of them kin.

Seven and the Old Gods help her if Aegon did not live up to her promise, but Abby trusted that he would. That he would, at the very least, try.

Melony opened her mouth to speak again but murmurs danced through the crowd, attention towards the dance floor. Abby looked over her shoulder in surprise.

Jace led Helaena by the hand to the crowd of dancers as the next song started, fingers touching as they circled around one another. She was a glittering, blue dragon amidst the crowd, hair like mercury as it flowed around her. Helaena loved to dance and the joy was obvious on her soft features, Jace’s own smile a shy one, his broad frame more obvious as he circled around her. Not as tall as Aemond, but Jace would grow taller yet.

“Well,” Melony’s attention had changed. “That’s an interesting development.”

Abby’s eyes instinctively cut to the queen where she sat at the King’s right, a slight furrow to her brow, and the Lord Hand beside her, his attention also on the pair dancing. A fond smile cut across Otto Hightower’s face as Helaena laughed when Jace spun her, and Abby wasn’t at all sure what to make of it.

Helaena looked happy, though, and that was all that mattered.

Abby startled at the feeling of a warm hand stroking against her elbow and Aegon’s laughter was soft as he stroked his fingers down her arm in a way that had goosebumps flaring across her skin. His fingers twined with hers and the ladies around her bobbed curtsies, murmuring My Prince and Your Grace.

“You all look like you’re having so much fun here, but I must steal my betrothed away,” Aegon said, his voice light and amused, in his element as the center of attention and even more dangerous without drink to cloud his senses. Abby felt the heated flush creep along her throat when Aegon tugged her into him. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I, Lady Abrogail?”

Lythene looked amused, Melony uncertain and Abby turned under Aegon’s arm so that she was facing him. “You did, my Prince. Thank you for the conversation, Lady Lythene, Lady Melony,” she thanked as Aegon began tugging her away. “It was good to meet you.”

Everything else drifted away when Aegon pulled her into his arms. The contrast to the last time they’d danced together was palpable. There was no anger between them, no confusion, no fear. He twirled her as he drew her into the space as if he were showing her off, her skirt flaring around her, rippling greens and blues like the rivers of her home, the candlelight glimmering along the golden threaded dragons on her gown, and the citrine bursts along her tiara. When Aegon pulled her into him, she could feel the heat of his body barely pressed against her, the flush of it coursing through her with every hammering beat of her heart.

“I wish we were somewhere more quiet,” Abby murmured to him as they turned around one another, clapping their hands before reaching for each other again. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Aemond tugging Wylla on the floor, her friend caught between surprise and a pleased flush along her cheeks. Abby would have to tease her later, in return for how merciless Wylla had teased her.

“Do you?” Aegon asked, grinning at her, eyes full of heat. “We could, you know. It is my nameday.”

“We’ll be caught, and I’d rather your mother not find us,” she chuckled, spinning away from him to turn around Lord Tyland, who smiled down at her indulgently while Aegon politely moved around Lady Johanna Westerling, Tyland’s goodsister and dance partner. Her gaze kept pulling back to Aegon whenever they were separated in the dances, and when they came back together, there was an ache in her chest that she could not identify. Relief? Want? Longing?

Everything?

“Remind me to get you a map of the tunnels,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against her temple and she couldn’t help the bubbling of giggles that escaped her. Aegon looked incredibly pleased with himself, and as the next song started, he pulled her closer to him, hands possessive on her hips as he lifted her in the air and spun her around.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked. Then it clicked. “What, so I can sneak to your room?”

Aegon winked at her. “Clever girl.”

“I try.”

As Abby turned, her eyes caught on the furious, dark gaze of Edmund Vance across the hall, accompanied by Lord Piper and some of the other River Lords. Abby blanched, the joy she had felt abating like water on a fire at the ugly look in his eyes. So distracted, she was, that she stumbled her steps of the complicated dance, nearly falling had Aegon not pulled her to him in time. She saw his gaze follow hers, his own smile morphing into a hard look.

“I’ve taken care of it.” Abby didn’t understand, trying to find the steps again without ruining the entire dance, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Aegon’s hand brushed soothing along her arm, his other hand warm on her waist and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Focus on me, eyes on me, hunītsos.” His voice was gentle and firm all at once, quiet and earnest and Abby focused on the sound of it, her gaze finding his, softened now. “Aemond saved me from making a scene, but I’ve handled it.” He tilted his head. “I don’t need to take his hands.”

Abby struggled to find words, a strange and unfamiliar thrill coursing through her that she could not examine too closely in the moment. “And what have you decided to take instead?”

As the dance came to a close, Aegon reached up to cup the softness of her cheek, tilting her head back with his thumb on her lower lip. He leaned in, mouth brushing against hers, and the vow he made was full of promise.

“His pride,” he murmured, and kissed her in front of the realm to seal it.

What was your favorite moment of the chapter? What's something you're looking forward to? Any fun theories!? I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you're enjoying about Maiden and any curiosities you might have! And if you're not sure what to say, just a kind reblog with a heart or something would be lovely <3

[Chapter Fifteen]

[polyamorouspunk]

hi sorry this is a genuine question, i dont mean to be offensive im just kind of confused! ive always been told labeling things that have mature content is good, so people can avoid it, even if theyre not following you they can avoid it in the tags or if someone they follow reblogs your stuff without warning. and that stuff thats about death, violence, and other horror content is mature since children shouldnt be exposed to that stuff and even adults might be uncomfortable with it since not everyone likes horror or death, so as a horror writer ive always made sure to label all my writing and posts accurately no matter what site im on so everyone can avoid it. i feel like im missing something pretty big bc i cant figure out how that stuff doesnt apply on tumblr but im seeing a lot of posts like yours really upset that your stuff is labeled accurately and i know everyones gotta have a good reason for being upset im just having a hard time figuring out what it is and if you could explain in more detail id really appreciate it! if not thats fine i hope youre having a good day anyway!

Reporting someone else’s content for mature themes is basically narcing on them. You as a user are responsible for your own media experience: if you don’t want to see horror themes, don’t (in this case) follow a blog (me) that posts horror themes or search through the tag of a band (INK) that posts horror themes. Because of tumblr’s fucked-up-ness when you click the links in my masterpost to the posts I’m making they take you off the app. That means that if you get re-routed you can’t have the option to see if the post without signing in which can sometimes loop between the app and the website causing your stuff to crash.

I tag my stuff appropriately. If I answer an ask about SA or CSA or whatever I will tag it. This is literally song lyrics. That’s it.

I’m also a horror writer and I tag and add labels to my horror stuff as well.

But narcing on someone else’s post to a really sketchy corporation (aka Tumblr) is a huge breach of trust and is very scummy and boot-licky. I, personally, have made it very clear that INK is my favorite band, so if someone has an issue with me posting literally just INK lyrics and not even graphic images then that’s their job to unfollow me 👌🏻 forgive me if I disagree that song lyrics that include the word “die” are “accurately” tagged as “mature”. “Children” aren’t even allowed to be on this website (minimum age requirement is 13). You step into an adult space you respect that it’s an adult space. Don’t go to pornhub if you’re 13 and you don’t want to see porn. Don’t go to a place where people post horror content if you don’t want to see horror content: OR take the time to curate YOUR dash so you don’t see it instead of narcing on creators. Creators are going to stop giving you content if you’re slapping problematic labels on them with minimal reason:

[axelsandwich]

yuzuru hanyu: an exhaustive introduction

YUZURU HANYU IN 8 SECONDS: A SUMMARY 

the weird goat noise crying at the end is yuzu himself basically going ‘nooo no way, no I don’t want this, that was scary, so scaryyy’

THIS IS ALSO YUZURU HANYU IN 13 SECONDS

YUZURU HANYU JUST BEING HIMSELF (PART 2)

choose your fighter

he’s happy a lot

basically the embodiment of the n__n emoji

and cute

the cutest 

ever

loves nature on the rare occasions he goes outside

hitting his coach with a fan

scaring his other coach and then running away

adorable w kids

loves teaching

but also falls down a lot. very cutely.

sometimes in a stupidly beautiful way

factual info you could probably Wikipedia but are too lazy to do so: Yuzuru Hanyu is a Japanese figure skater from Sendai, born 7 December 1994 who competes in the men's singles discipline.

PSA: YUZURU HANYU IS NOT THE MODEL FOR KATSUKI YUURI FROM YURI ON ICE (yuuri katsuki is canonically based on tatsuki machida thank u)

japanese media (esp in sendai) basically filmed him growing up and called him a young prodigy so we’re lucky to get footage of chipmunk-cheeked yuzu with his (flying) mushroom hair 

look at this tiny bean

he was interviewed in ice rink sendai with japan’s other figure skating gold medallist shizuka arakawa. to quote, when asked “can you become a gold medallist too?”, he said “probably”. and then he went and did exactly that.

he would get into fights with his rinkmates, used to ball up skate rink magazine flyers to hit like a baseball and basically had a 5min attention span after which he would get bored

he also remained top 5 in his class academically while competing internationally during high school and does online education at waseda university, which is one of the most prestigious universities in Japan (this kid was away the day God handed out laziness and procrastination I s2g)

he’s studying Human Informatics and Cognitive Sciences (ie. basically a massive maths nerd)

my favourite in-depth and extended interviews with yuzu are his press conferences with the foreign correspondents club in japan, he really lets his intelligence and thoughtfulness shine here in particular:

2014 post-sochi olympics

2018 post-pyeongchang olympics

2018 post-pyeongchang olympics (japanese media)

memelord mc memeface (no, I am serious)

literally can’t control his face

I could go on.........

for a long time

(this is my fave)

the duality of man

10 expressions for the price of one

‘yuzuru will also respond in english’

yuzuru was a victim of the 2011 Japanese earthquake and tsunami and lived in an emergency shelter with his family for about a week. spent the summer afterwards skating 60 different ice shows to raise money for the victims. he lost his home rink because of the earthquake and so would go to the show rinks early to practice ): 

it’s heartbreaking that he’s still very affected by the memories. he’s said he doesn’t take anything for granted and is always grateful to have a rink to skate on, and the impact he had on the survivors had a profound effect on his skating

he mentioned it in his post olympics interview

if you feel like crying really really hard today, watch yuzuru visiting sendai’s disaster affected areas and where he stayed initially in the days after the disaster

he donated all his olympic winnings to helping tohoku recover

the only regular TV appearance he does every year is 24hr TV which is a charity marathon to raise money for various causes, especially for areas affected by natural disaster 

“If it is because I visited them that those who suffered from the disaster can forget about their hardships for even just a moment, to me that would be something very meaningful. Therefore, at that moment, I thought that I wanted to get another Gold medal at the next Olympics.” 

the reason why he’s going for another olympic medal. cry with us

gets on with nobunari oda like a house on fire and carries out shenanigans whenever they meet

nobu and ex-tennis player matsuoka shuzo have been his most zealous and purest hype men since he was sixteen, it’s the cutest thing in the world, they’re regularly worried about him, stunned by him and moved to tears by his performances

here they are reacting to his olympics programs

here’s yuzu thanking shuzo for his support by putting his gold medal around shuzo-san’s neck

has the cutest bromance ever with training mate javier fernandez (eg. when he cried bc he didn’t win but was also super happy for javi, and when he watched javi’s free skate)

gives the best hugs to javi

iconic(TM)

just before the Olympic medal ceremony, yuzuru cried after javi told him this would be his last olympics and saying ‘no I can’t do it without you’ wow I didn’t need my heart or anything today

has the cutest interactions with all skaters including his direct competitors

here’s boyang jin giggling about how he got a hug from ‘the guy who likes Pooh’

nathan chen commenting on yuzu & both of them complimenting each other

dodges media attempts to pit him against shoma uno as bitter rivals bc they are NOT ABOUT THAT LIFE 

olympic gold medallist checking to make sure the olympic silver medallist has his jacket on straight and teaching shoma to wave bc he is actually just a mother

the only person who has the ability to make him lose focus: his forever-idol evgeni plushenko (now in motion) 

probably the only asian boy who willingly opted for a bowl cut 

who he shamelessly cheers on during ice shows

literally not capable of not being extra as fuck

here’s his pre-competition rituals aka. lipsyncing silently at a wall

he does it a lot

where every other male skater is in sensible shirts and pants, you will find yuzu standing there BEDECKED IN SEQUINS AND FEATHERS

he don’t give a fuck about your gender norms

and looks excellent while doing so

here he is, single-handedly destroying toxic masculinity

here he is just generally being Extra, with the rest of the men, bullying junhwan, bullying boyang... speed skating

tbh his milkshake seems to bring all the boys to the yard...seriously. and obviously most of the girls...

famous for his death glare murder face of hyper-competitive intensity

scariest thing is how quickly he can switch it on

there’s literally a collection of photos of yuzu - from when he was a bb to presently - eyeing the gold medal from another podium position like ‘my precious will be mine soon’ (here’s another one)

but also for being the sweetest kid ever 

he is truly SUPER polite wherever he goes

hugging his competitors at the 2018 pyeongchang olympics

staying behind to answer all questions from media at the competition

CRAWLING ON HIS HANDS AND KNEES behind competitor shoma uno so he doesn’t get in the background of shoma’s interview

mr worldwide (he thanked reporters at the Olympics in five languages)

watch him say thank you in korean

JP TV basically had entire TV segments where they were like ‘OBSERVE HIS GOD-LIKE BEHAVIOUR’. It continues to this day

there’s literally a shrine with kanji similar to his name and fans pray for him there

he has three dedicated shrines that his fans make pilgrimmages to - yuzuruha and the two seimei shrines. 

oda nobunari visited one and basically all the ema wishes were for him (yuzuru himself also visited the shrine to pray as well)

helping people repair the rink after competitions

single-handedly keeping the winnie the pooh soft toy industry alive.  

Disney-senpai finally noticed him in 2018

he donates all the toys he gets to local orphanages and charities

gives his fans regular heart attacks

watch him save jumps that shouldn’t have been physically possible

changing program halfway through when he failed a jump to accommodate #emergencyquad and #yolotripleaxel 

casually breaks world records because he was annoyed with himself

casual jump combinations during practices

casually says shit like wanting to jump hithero impossible jumps

jumped new quad when pissed off at the world team trophy It is REALLY IMPORTANT to know that the main reason for fan heart attacks is because he’s dealt with a distressing number of injuries, illnesses and misfortunes in his skating life but has somehow managed to come back and succeed in spite of them

a really scary accident that happened at cup of china 2014 and he decided to skate anyway because he wanted to qualify for the Grand Prix Final (which he then went on to win) and he really should not have been allowed to but he.......did that > <;

he then came back a month later to win the Grand Prix Final for the 2nd year in a row

he then had abdominal pain and surgery right after winning Japanese Nationals in 2014

and after spending a month recuperating, still managed to win a silver medal at worlds 2014

this is why we don’t talk about boston

important to note he skated his iconic chopin/seimei 2015 grand prix final programs WITH THAT INJURY

but then he came back and won the world championships in Helsinki in 2017

he missed almost the entire 2017-2018 olympic season he severely injured his ankle while practising the 4Lz in practice at the NHK Trophy, while recovering from a fever

is making his comeback from injury either at the pyeongchang team event or potentially yolo-ing it and going just for the individual event, we have no idea, we just know heart attacks are imminent

update: he skipped the team event and made his COMEBACK SKATE FROM INJURY after 3 months of no competitions and 1 month of prep at the individual mens event of the pyeongchang olympics.... AND FRIKKIN WON HIS SECOND OLYMPIC GOLD 

he then...injured himself again for the 2018-19 season, went out and skated anyway, won the event and showed up to the victory ceremony on crutches. he made a comeback at the world championships 2019 on painkillers yet again and still managed to get a silver medal

is proficient at disappearing like a ninja and subjecting his fans to radio silence for months on end, usually bc he injured himself ))):

so his fans made him a banner

(he has some ridiculously talented fans tbh)

a helpful guide to stanning yuzu (warning: you may feel Attacked)

did I mention he happens to be pretty good at figure skating? 

he’s broken the world record 16 times and counting (the video is his reaction to the first 11 (most of them are his own records)

he’s the first man in 66yrs since Dick Button to win back-to-back Olympic gold medals in mens figure skating (sochi 2014 and pyeongchang 2018)

I cannot emphasise HOW FRIKKIN #YOLO HIS 2018 OLYMPIC SEASON WAS. this was the medal he wanted his ENTIRE LIFE, which he had literally planned since he was a novice skater and had seriously begun planning since right after he won the gold in Sochi. this plan had to be adjusted due to the truly distressing number of injuries, illnesses and misfortunes he sustained during the last quad (his Olympic athlete profile has PARAGRAPHS dedicated to all his injuries - and note these are only the post-2014 ones). but yuzuru started the 2017-18 olympic season with a plan to basically break all 3 of his WRs at the olympics by recycling his Chopin and Seimei programs but upgrading the layout and introducing a new quad - the 4Lz - which he had been preparing for years. and then this plan was, once again, thrown out the window when he sustained the injury in NHK in early November, which was much more severe than he first thought. he sat out of competition for 3mths despite hoping to return first at Japanese Nationals and then to the Pyeongchang team event, but pulled out of both as well. yuzuru made his comeback from injury debut at the individual men’s event, aka. the BIG DEAL, after marching into the airport like a BOSS. we were told he had only recovered his triple axel 3 weeks ago and his quads 2 weeks ago, but post-Olympics, he’s slowly revealing that it was even more dire than that. he skated the entire Olympics on painkillers that were not working 100% which meant every jump landing hurt.  and he. frikkin. WON. by doing this. and this.  (it was also the 1000th medal in Winter Olympics history because destiny rewards those who are Most Extra)

seimei is arguably one of the greatest masterpieces of skating programs and yuzuru was involved in every step of putting it together

his iconic moves ; _ ; 

edges, have you seen anything more ridiculous

romeo and juliet 1.0 at worlds, less than 1yr after the tsunami disaster and really launched him onto the international stage

sochi olympic short program (the thing that won him the gold lbr)

sub point: his reaction to gold

sub point: his reactions to BOTH HIS GOLD MEDALS

chopin and seimei at Grand Prix Finals 2015/16 

WR for highest short program and total program score and he’s gonna bring them both back and try to surpass them for the Olympic season because he wasn’t already under enough pressure.........

hope and legacy FS at Worlds 2016/17 where he came back from 5th place in the short program to win the free and break his own world record yet again (annotated version)

broke his 12th WR in the first event of the 2017-2018 Olympic season at the ACI Challenger event with a sore knee and downgraded jump layout

hilariously, his coach brian orser was - uncharacteristically - warning everyone that his first skates of the season are like ‘first pancakes’ and to not expect too much from him before the SP

his fans, needless to say, were amused

he did go ahead and die in the free skate the following day though, and finished with his obligatory Canadian silver

Jumped and landed his first 4Lz in competition at the Rostelecom Cup 2017 (watch it clean - it’s a THING OF BEAUTY) and now has landed 4 types of quads in competition (4T, 4S, 4Lo and 4Lz). Has now said that being the first person ever to land the 4A - his childhood dream - is one of his key motivations. 

just go watch all his programs lol

has a majestic jump face. it’s art. literally. 

seemingly endless appetite for getting better and continually challenging himself

his favourite word: kuyashii (ie. frustrated)

one of my favourite interviews of him ever was right after his broke all 3 world records and went over 200 and 300 for the FS and total competition score for the first time at NHK 2015.  “[On losing to Patrick Chan at Skate Canada & the fact he was practising during gala rehearsal where everyone else was chilling] I thought I want to improve, even here right now.  Patrick was nearby and it was a really good motivation.   It’s like, ‘Watch me.'  I will definitely practise all kinds of jumps and I will grow for sure.  I will win the next time for sure, I have been practising with that in mind.”   Then 3 weeks later, at NHK Trophy, he had a different lay-out. Yuzu:  This is not related to Patrick anymore.  I was really fired up this time. Boyang Jin got 95 points in SP, right?  When I saw that score, I thought, wow NO MISTAKES!!  He gave the best of his abilities!  OH YES!!!! Matsu: You didn’t think OH NO!!!  You thought OH YES???? Yuzu:  I thought “It’s here!!!"  Since I was a child, I have never liked winning a competition when others made mistakes.  Everyone skates to their best, but I still come first, above all.  That is what I like. I like pushing myself to the edge—.” (translation cr: yuzusorbet) says volumes about his competitive mentality.

this is also iconic AF. ‘In your mind, what do you mean by wanting to win with a commanding lead?’ yuzuru (no hesitation and immediately): after everyone goes clean, I go clean and win. (matsuoka shuzo’s face is a MOOD)

oh, also he’s had asthma since he was two 

he talks about it here

it was referenced in a movie

he got an asthma attack 2wks before the World Championships in Helsinki 2017 and still went out and Did That

the new york times did a long feature on him and it’s mostly a pretty comprehensive article if you want an overview

has remained at number one in the world standings for the entire olympic cycle since 2013 despite aforementioned heart-attack-inducing injuries and illnesses

sucks at finding suits that fit him. because he needs one imperfection

questionable fashion sense in general (generally remains stuck at ‘japanese teenage boy circa 2005′)

he wears toe socks and has been seen wearing crocs once, ho n e st l y

Good Guy Yuzuru: doesn’t wear fitted suits often because he knows it’ll kill his fans and/or will only do so if he gets paid for it tbh

unless he’s wearing under armour

he can keep wearing under armour

seriously, why isn’t he being sponsored by under armour

why

really obsessed with earphones and has like 50 pairs, many of which are custom-made and cost over $1000. he gets really excited about sound quality & bonds with sound technicians over their headphones. basically it’s the only thing he talks about when interviewers want to know what he likes to do in his spare time

that and play games in his room by himself

he’s hyper-competitive about games too

is this a surprise at this point

he’s basically a shut in when he’s not on the ice rink, in competition or at an ice show. he is not v exciting

he got really obsessed with kendama and now has like 8 of them

can’t dance but has no shame (yeah) (YEAH. you’ve been warned). werq it boi

made his japanese film debut in a bald cap, playing the young lord of Sendai which he SORT OF BASICALLY IS

get you a man that loves you like the entire city of Sendai loves yuzuru

their cheer video for sochi and pyeongchang

as of originally writing this intro post - part of the top six men in figure skating right now. probably possesses the Most Lack of Chill, being world champion, olympic champion and holder of all 3 figure skating records. we’re all drinking heavily this olympic season, not in the least because Olympic season has been a Pretty Big Disaster So Far

BUT HE WON THE GOLD MEDAL AND THE MENS EVENT WAS - FOR THE MOST PART - PRETTY DAMN BRILLIANT, especially given all the disasters that happened this season.......so I recommend watching it all. ; __ ; 

alas Patrick Chan and Javier Fernandez have now retired ;;

he’s also b e a u t i f u l 

um excuse me, rude

VERY RUDE

apparently not interested in sex appeal......... 

‘acting’

want to research more? 

here’s a recommended watchpost

a compilation of interesting interviews by tsukihoshi14

gif cr: balladestorm

in conclusion, thank you for reading and I hope you know more about this special, brilliant boy ( : 

[bookwyrminspiration]

is it still council-hating hours? even if not, this is something that's been bothering me for....so long. and i am going to explode if i don't say it right now. (In fact i actually have a doc titled "council incompetence rant" that is. getting a little long.)

One of the things that annoys me the most in Keeper is how utterly incompetent the Council is. They are shit at their jobs! They don't make sense! And that would be fine if that was something that was explored and talked about in the story, but it's not?

Like, sure, it's brushed on a little, but Keeper never goes in-depth in order to explain just how flawed and corrupt the system is! We have no idea how far the rot goes because we haven't been given a chance to see how far it goes, and despite the earlier books being really great setup for all kinds of plots and discussions surrounding the Council, it feels like Messenger is completely dropping that in favor of..."Neverseen Bad, Council + Black Swan Good". Which I call fucking bullshit on, by the way, because this series has gone to pretty decent lengths before to show that it's not the case! So WHY are we getting to that now?

Well, I think all of this is the symptom of a bigger problem.

Note: I don't want to be mean, and please tell me if I'm being too critical here, but this series has some serious problems actually delivering on what it's saying.

Like, it's trying to tell us that Sophie shouldn't be doing all this because she's a kid, but then it treats her very own existence as a project as background information when that should absolutely be at the forefront (like it was in earlier books)!

It's trying to tell us that discrimination against the Talentless is bad, but then every single member of it's cast has an ability, has a strong ability, and regularly uses their ability! Even Dex, who could have easily been talentless and good with tech, gets to be a Super Good Gadget Person thanks to his ability as opposed to his own creativity and ingenuity.

It's trying to tell us that maybe banishing children is bad, but also tells us that Exillium is now """fixed""" because Oralie gave them...better tents? Food? And never touches on the fact that children are still. getting. banished. It doesn't explore Tam's anger in detail, Linh is only there to be the token asian girl, it does nothing to fully dispel any thought of the Council being alright.

And it's trying to tell us that the Council fucks up, it's showing us that Councillors have no problem being incredibly selfish and violent and so many other terrible things, but that never changes. Nothing in Keeper is changing. It is only maintaining the status quo!

I'm confused as to what Messenger is trying to tell her readers! Are the Council good or bad? Is working with the Council good or bad? Are the Black Swan and Neverseen actually morally grey? Should I be angry at what's happening in these books? Am I meant to look at all the rot and shrug because "that's just how it is"?

And like...I wouldn't be mad if Keeper was just...bad! I mean, I would, but I wouldn't be as distraught! What really grinds my gears is that Keeper has the chance to be good. It has the chance to do great things - and at times it absolutely does! - but it keeps reinforcing belief in a deeply flawed and broken system that is regularly hurting people. And those examples were just off the top of my head!

And again, if this was explored within the series, that would be amazing, but the problem is that it's...not. And that's just...a real fuckin' shame, honestly.

- pyro

(sorry if this was like...too angry? i started and then kinda just...couldn't stop. i should probably get a hobby that's not tearing a middle grade series apart. oops.)

it may have been over a week since you sent this (thank you for being patient with me!!), but fuck yes it is still council hating hours. it is always council hating hours in this household that is not actually a house. (also that incompetence rant sounds intriguing)

yes! you are right! they are so bad at what they're supposed to be doing it's like they're just figures for people to look to and say "yea they'll take care of it" to keep everyone else from acting out! but it's really interesting to see a government so awful and incompetent be such an integral and influential part of the story...without acknowledging that they're actually really bad? I know in Unlocked there's a line where Shannon says something like "Sophie had to figure out who the bad guys were: the black swan? the council? someone else entirely?" but then it's never touched on again that I can remember. Thinking through the series, I honestly can't think of a situation that the council, of their own volition, saw was an issue and corrected in a way that was beneficial to those who needed it. Like yea, Oralie gave money to Exillium, but that was after Sophie chewed her out about it. I think i've said it before but in case not: it feels like they've taken the "for the good of the many over the good of the few" ideology too far in a society that doesn't work for. If someone threatens the majority (and often that's just in appearance only) they get rid of them to preserve the image of the rest. It doesn't care about their people, it cares about the majority of people feeling undisturbed.

considering Sophie is part of a huge organization created literally because their society, led by that system, isn't working for a lot of people, they (the Black Swan) sure do go along with the council a whole lot. I think one of the linked posts in one of my masterposts is specifically about how making the Black Swan work so closely with the council screwed them over and completely undermined everything they were working towards. I'm going to make a very vague comparison here, but the Black Swan feel like "we need to fix the system" while the Neverseen are "the system is broken lets start over" (except the Neverseen added a lot more violence into the mix). It's absolutely infuriating to have them working side by side: one, because the Black Swan aren't accomplishing any of their goals and should cut their losses and go back to being mysterious underground groups with more freedom to move (in my opinion), but two, because it makes the council seem like it's trying to fix things when really it feels like a publicity thing to make the public think they're addressing the rebel issue while they're really just showing up in places and causing problems. And!! that's another thing! it feels like their collaboration with the Black Swan is to address the problem of having rebels, not the problems these rebels have identified and are trying to fix. Unfortunately, it seems the council is getting their way more than the Black Swan, getting them to act more legally and work closer with less room for working outside the system. if that makes sense.

considering it's literally stated in unlocked that there is no "good" and "bad," there does seem to be a lot of focus on associating the Black Swan with being Right, and the Neverseen with being Wrong. I can hope that it's the outward reactions to the Black Swan realizing they've done some fucked up stuff (Sophie) and are now overcompensating and trying to make sure their every move is the correct one. But I do think it will be interesting to see if Sophie makes the connection in canon (as she's already started to) that there isn't always a right option, there's just the best you can do with a situation and the Black Swan's insistence that she was "in the wrong" (a summary) helps her realize her own values and think through their decisions with her own perspective instead of just trusting them

response to your note: you're fine! you bring up a good point that this book sounds like it wanted to be a unique perspective (by having the "good guys" also be questionable and give the "bad guys" reasonable motives) but the execution misses the mark for a lot of us. so you're qualms and observations are entirely valid and I don't think you're being mean at all! I think you're expressing a frustration you have with something, which I support and encourage.

at times it feels like Shannon bit off more than she could chew in terms of all the complicated things she could get into when it comes to this series. not saying she's doing a bad job or a horrible author or anything, just that there are some things she introduced that kind of get left behind or unexplored because there's so much else going on. I think we can see that in the whole being experiment part of Sophie life. we saw sophie was uncomfortable with it in the first few books and would sometimes bring it up, but I personally would've been more satisfied if she'd either taken the time to process it (opposed to her think about that later strategy) or come to the realization that no, she isn't okay with it and she deserves to have her thoughts on the matter heard. she was literally created to serve someone elses purpose, and brought into the fight too early at that. and yet it's treated like an "oopsie, guess we just gotta go with it" thing, like this minor part of her story when I bet her thinking about it for more than a minute at a time would absolutely wreck her. but I'm getting caught up in this, so moving on!

I think we can see it in the talentless too, as it's treated like a "that doesn't affect me" thing for Sophie. because she doesn't have any friends that are talentless right now--the closest she's got is Marella, who I think is still legally considered talentless with her pyrokinesis. it's been acknowledged that she doesn't think the way talentless are treated is right, but it doesn't impact her right now so she's not really doing anything about it. maybe if this was brought back later with someone like Jensi, then that would be a satisfying conclusion to this issue (not a conclusion, but it wouldn't be left hanging, if that makes sense). And I can understand the benefit of leaving things open to go back and explore later from a writers perspective, but at a certain point it becomes more of a hindrance to the story than anything else.

and exillium! I have so many thoughts on Exillium that I actually started talking about it earlier in this post. They're not doing anything unless prompted and what they do is the bare minimum. With the tents and the food, they aren't fixing Exillium, they're making it into what it should've been at the very least were they going to actually go down that route. So I can't praise them for it when it's just basic decency to provide literal children with food and shelter when you force them to be somewhere they don't want to. But all this doesn't fix Exillium, because the problem is that it exists in the first place. The problem is that the council saw children who were struggling, and decided the best thing to do with them was to just get them out of the way for everyone else. Three coaches total for leadership? yeah, there's no way that place was ever supposed to be "alternate learning" or however Oralie phrased it, that was just so you could say you hadn't completely abandoned them in the middle of nowhere.

you're so right about the council fucks up bit--I think the most obvious example of this is with Sophie's ability restrictor. Yea, she's not wearing it anymore, but that's not because the council changed their minds. It's because she broke the law and the didn't punish her for it. this is a great example of how things keep trying to move forward, but the council isn't doing anything to stay up with it. "they are selfish and violent[...] but that never changes." yes!! this!! you put it so well! the council is still the same old council that we saw in book one, concerned with their own interests and their own views, just trying to mitigate the damage Sophie and her friends are capable of doing to their system. Note: the fact that a handful of teenagers who haven't even graduated can do this much damage might be telling of the structural integrity of their system. Bronte and Terik did a little flip, and Alina replaced the Now Crispy Kenric, but aside from that nothing has changed.

I will say, I personally don't want it to be clear who the good guys and bad guys are. (not saying that's what you're asking for! just piggybacking off your comment on the confusion). I'm glad that the characters make me think and I'm grateful there isn't just the "we're good and they're bad" element you see in other stories. not that that's bad, i just think realistically they'd be more complex and their simplicity grows repetitive after a while. But like I said, at times it feels like there's too much going on for there to be a clear message, which in and of itself could be the message. i could be seeing something where there's nothing, though. I think part of it might be Shannon trying to take on all these complex narratives and perspectives with a limited perspective (as in she only has Sophie to tell the story through), while also needing to make it enjoyable and palletable to a young audience.

and I agree with you! I think it's a lot of the potential we see not being used that makes us so infuriated (or me at least). Because there are some stories yo uread where you're like "ah. it's just one of those stories. cool." and you move past it. Because you know it's going to have a set perspective and you know it's going to accomplish what it wants, but Keeper seems to have so many possibilities and Shannon's getting stuck in this rut of good and bad after so long. maybe we'll get out of it in the next book with sophie thinking the Black Swan was in the wrong, but I also wouldn't be surprised if that Didn't Happen.

it's just like what i was saying about Ro! There's all these opportunities for these characters and this world to be really explored and fleshed out and complex, but we've gotten stuck in this romance drama and loosing fights again and again with little progress. All their actions are undoing the Neverseen's actions and counting it a victory because no one is dead. I just think there could be so much more that we're not getting because the story tried to go too broad when it wasn't ready for it.

this response got very long but in essence: I agree with your assessment of the story. is frustrating to see so many of the details and paths we'd like to see explored that often aren't in fiction just pass us by.

there is a special place for keeper in my heart and I will always appreciate it for that, but I also mourn what it could've been.

(also: you are not too angry! you have genuine thoughts about this series and they deserve to be heard! we are allowed to have complaints, even about the things we like. we don't have to appreciate every single aspect and we're allowed to be mad at the things we don't like.)

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Twelve

Link to Masterpost

I didn’t think I’d have this done so quickly, but here we are!

Content/Warning: While not intended to be a main focus of the work, this chapter does contain discussion of sexual orientation and the revelation of a side character as a trans man (who is almost assuredly not trans in the original canon). While I definitely want to be as respectful as possible even though I’m only barely broaching the topic, I cannot claim to be trans myself, so if I’ve gotten something wrong in my admittedly-minimal talk about it please tell me!

Today’s prompts:

Aelin getting stood up for a date

and

Inappropriate exclamations during an innocent massage

~*~*~

Aelin crossed her legs, leaning forward with an interest she was struggling to feel. “So, Ilias, you said you’re here for work? What is it you do?”

Ilias grinned a little too sharply at her, amusement flashing in sea-green eyes. “I work in… private security. I’m afraid I can’t say more than that.”

“Right.” She began to fidget with the skewer that had held her drink’s cherry, searching for something else to say.

“You seem uncomfortable. Want to get out of here?”

Oh gods, was he really…? Yes, he was leaning in, and the way his eyes flitted down her torso and then back up meant he was saying exactly what she thought he was saying.

“You know, if I’m being honest I don’t know if this is going to work,” she blurted out. “I mean, with you being based so far west of here, and traveling all over for your work… I’m not looking for forever on a first date, but maybe something a bit more stable than that.”

Ilias’ brow furrowed, then he nodded with an easy grin. “Fair enough. I definitely can’t promise stable.”

~*~*~

It had been a while since Aelin had been on a date with a woman, but she knew without a doubt that wasn’t the cause of the nerves settling in the pit of her stomach as golden eyes flashed at her from the barstool beside her. “Can I ask you a question that’s probably a bit rude?”

Her companion—Manon, that was her name—merely raised an amused eyebrow.

Aelin blurted out the question that had been at the tip of her tongue for the past several minutes. “Do you find that people being both scared and turned on is a normal reaction around you, or is it just me?”

Manon smirked, flicking her platinum braid over her shoulder. “It’s what I aim for,” she replied with a flash of sharp teeth.

Aelin laughed. “Okay, if I’m being honest we’re probably a terrible romantic match, but I like you. This is probably weird, since we’re on what’s supposed to be a date, but I have this friend who I think would absolutely love you…” Aelin trailed off, scrolling through the pictures on her phone.

Pointed nails dug into her shoulder as Manon peered at the screen. “I’m interested.”

Aelin blinked. “I haven’t told you anything about Elide.”

“I can see what I need to know about her from the way she’s holding herself in that picture. I’m willing to meet if she is.”

“I’ll introduce you on the condition that you teach me that trick you used on the guy you passed on your way in.”

“Deal.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

~*~*~

Aelin sighed from the corner of the bar, shaking her head as Lysandra gave her a questioning stare. Ress was late. Incredibly late, not just something she could attribute to traffic.

She swirled the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid to stop herself from checking her phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. He would show up if and when he showed up, and she was determined to not be bothered by it even though it bothered her immensely.

Maybe she should take Lysandra up on her offer to set her up. It couldn’t be worse than her experience trying to find people on dating apps.

Finally, her phone chimed as the screen lit up with an unfamiliar number. Aelin, it’s Ress. I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. There’s been a huge disaster at work and apparently I’m the one who gets to clean it up.

Aelin sighed. Well, at least he’d texted her.

~*~*~

“Three flops in as many weeks, Lysandra, I think I’m cursed.” Aelin sighed and nestled further into the couch. “I mean, I went on a run today to try and calm down. Who goes on runs?”

“Rowan goes on runs,” her friend replied wickedly. “And I told you from the start that dating apps were hit or miss. This isn’t college anymore.”

“I didn’t have to worry about it in college,” she reminded her.

“That’s right, you were doing that thing with Sam where you thought you were a lesbian and Sam hadn’t fully come to the realization that he was a guy yet. You know, I still can’t believe you two wound up staying friends after how that fell out.”

Aelin grimaced. Some days she couldn’t quite believe it, either; she had hardly been graceful about it in college. “It took a lot of distance and a lot of growing up,” she admitted. “And a lot of admitting that I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”

“Anyhow, if you’re ready to hear my ideas, I could set you up with Archer.”

Aelin frowned, rubbing at a sudden cramp in her calf muscles. “Is that a person’s name, or a profession?”

“It’s his name. I can help you with that, if you want.” Lysandra leaned forward and took over, deftly massaging her leg.

“And how exactly do you know this Archer?”

“I worked with him at that massage parlor in Rifthold.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Lysandra’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Aelin scowled. “No one from Rifthold.”

Green eyes softened in understanding. “He’s not like—”

“I don’t care. No.”

Thankfully, her friend dropped it there, instead focusing on working the knot out of her sore muscles. “I could also set you up with Rowan.”

Aelin groaned. “Oh gods, Lys. No.”

“What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? My ability to live with him, and therefore my home?” She turned her head just enough to glare at her friend, otherwise remaining practically boneless as she sprawled across the couch.

Lysandra laughed. “You think Aedion wouldn’t kick him out over you?”

“I don’t want it to come to that. So no, you’re not setting me up with him.”

“But you could go on runs together, and when you push yourself too hard he could probably carry you home.”

“You’re a terrible influence. Remind me why we’re friends again?”

“Because you’re a worse one,” her friend grinned. “Besides, I can do this.”

A few deft strokes of Lysandra’s hands had the tension leaving her leg, and she moaned in relief. “Gods, that feels so good.”

“See? Everyone likes my hands, they’re one of my best features.”

“Don’t get all smug with me—yes, right there!”

A loud noise near the doorway had them both freezing and looking over, only to discover that Rowan had gotten home early and looked absolutely mortified. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Aelin, you have a room.”

Aelin blushed hotly as she played back the last several moments of their conversation. Exactly how much had he heard? Hopefully it was just the last part; as awkward as it was, it was easier to explain than her misplaced attraction to him. “As trite as this sounds, it’s not what it looks like.”

“So you haven’t brought one of your recent dates home?” As odd as it was to think, she was relieved by the scowl on his face; the expression combined with his words indicated that he hadn’t heard them talking about him.

“Gods, no. This is Lysandra. From the bar, remember?”

Bless her, Lysandra stood and waved with a grin. She was less thrilled with what her friend proceeded to say, though. “Your friend here pushed too far running and hurt her leg. I was just helping with that.”

Immediately Rowan’s gaze fixated on her legs, obviously searching for any obvious sign of injury. Aelin sighed. “I’m fine, buzzard. It was just a muscle cramp.”

He nodded, the motion sharp and jerky, and strode into the kitchen, fetching a glass of water with almost mechanical precision. “I guarantee you didn’t drink enough water before you ran. This should help prevent it from coming back.”

She scowled, but obediently sipped from the glass after he handed it to her. “I thought you weren’t supposed to right before running. Doesn’t that upset your stomach?”

“I’m talking about yesterday, Aelin. You should be keeping well-hydrated on a daily basis if you’re going to take up running.”

“You just want me to drink more water,” she accused. “That sounds made up.”

“Just try it,” he replied. “You’ll thank me later.”

Her head jerked back toward the living area at the sound of a door closing, only to find that Lysandra had taken the opportunity to quietly let herself out. Her friend grinned and waved from the driveway when she saw her, clearly realizing she was caught and utterly unrepentant.

Aelin sighed and turned back to Rowan, who was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite identify. “You’re really okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I just needed something to help me not think for a while after these shit dates I’ve been on lately, and I’m told drinking alone is a sign of having a problem.”

The corner of his lips quirked up in the barest hint of a smile. “They must’ve been really bad, to make you consider running as a viable option.”

Aelin shrugged. “I mean, I’ve had worse, but I’ve also had better? It was just one miss after another, you know?”

He glanced at her again, then turned toward the refrigerator. “I think I have everything we need to make pasta, if that’ll help you feel better.”

“You’d actually make me pasta?” She frowned; there had to be some kind of catch. There was no way he would simply allow that many carbs to be on his stovetop at the same time.

“I would,” he replied, heading toward the pantry and grabbing…

“Wait, that’s not pasta,” she blurted out. Gods, she knew there was a catch.

He laughed, rolling up his sleeves before grabbing their eggs as well. “It’s not pasta yet.”

“You can’t seriously mean—” There was no way he was actually making pasta from scratch. There was a reason it came in boxes, she was sure of it.

“I can and I do. Now either stop talking and watch or get out of my kitchen.”

Aelin chose to watch, and the play of muscles in his forearms as he made and kneaded his own pasta dough was almost enough to make her forget about why she’d thought it was a good idea to try dating again in the first place.

Almost.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp @sleeping-and-books @acciowests @stardelia @anidealiveson

[thebountyfucker]

The Two Princes - Royal AU

NSFW - 18+ ONLY

Embo x F!Reader x Cad Bane

Tags: sex party, public sex, double penetration, threesome, blowjob, handjob, overstimulation, maybe ooc but this is an AU so I don't care lol

CW: mentions of drugs, prostitution, power imbalance (the reader is a hired attendant, and both Embo and Cad are princes. Reader is not a part of either of their domains, so they have no control over her. However, I did want to include it just in case)

Here's a link to my masterpost and to the application for my taglist!

“So explain to me again what is going on?”

“There’s nothing else to say.” Your boss replied as he sorted through his collection of datapads, his fingers flicking through the stack until he found the right one. He pulled it out and thrust it in your direction. “Ya gotta sign it.”

“Sign… what?” You took the datapad into your hands and powered it on. A file appeared, one that was rather lengthy and full of legal words that you couldn’t, for the life of you, understand. You parsed through the paragraphs of Aurebesh, before pausing and glancing up. “Is this an NDA?”

“Yep.” Your boss was quick to reply, turning his stout body from you to search around his office for something else. You uneasily returned your attention to the swirling legalese, and faltered. Your boss noticed your hesitancy, and sighed. “I can tell you this - it’s the royal folk. One of them is planning some shindig, and needs you and the girls to help take care of them.”

“Is it… safe?”

“You tell me. You know them royal folk better than I do.”

You wouldn’t exactly say you knew them; one one-night stand with Prince Cad hardly seemed to count, in your opinion. Though, if this party was hosted by a royal, there was a good chance that you’d get to see him again. He’d protect you if things went wrong, right? You stared down at the datapad, and your boss huffed impatiently.

“Look, sign it or don’t. I need to know who to staff now. They aren’t the patient type.”

“Alright, alright.” You scribbled your signature down on the line and your boss snatched the datapad from your hand. He tossed it aside and waddled around from the other side of the desk, gesturing with two fingers for you to follow him.

“You and the others will caravan to The Veil, where you’ll meet the employer. Remember, none of what happens tonight can be talked about, or we’ll be sued to shit. You understand?” You nodded again at this, the uneasy sensation rising in your stomach once more. Your boss glanced over his shoulder at you, and scoffed. “They ain’t gonna eat you! Relax!”

“Easy for you, perhaps.” You muttered under your breath as you both slipped into the meeting room. About fifteen young women - your coworkers - were waiting in the room. Most seemed just as confused as you were.

“The employer has everything you’ll need. Don’t let them talk you into doing anything that isn’t in your job description, okay? You’re attendants, not whores.” Your boss drawled as he crossed his arms over his chest. The last line, specifically, caught your attention. You’re attendants, not whores. What about this job warranted that comment? He had to know more than he was letting on, and this bothered you. You supposed he, likely, had to sign a similar NDA, but at the same time, you hated going into jobs blind. Things were more likely to go wrong this way… and the royals weren’t the type you wanted to disappoint. “Get your asses moving. He’s waiting on you.”

-

The Veil was unlike anything you had ever seen before - it was a meeting hall affiliated with Azvergin Hotel - a high-end joint for billionaires and royals alike. This meeting hall was just as high-class, with high ceilings and sculpted arches and hand-carved crown moulding. Columns lined the grand hall, holding the heavy mosaic ceilings from toppling to the floor. Famous artwork was displayed along the walls. You were so caught in how awe-inspiring this hall was, you hardly noticed the room was empty. There were no tables or chairs to be seen - something you expected for a function fit for royalty.

“This way.” The grounds-keeper spoke, pulling your attention from the details of the room; it was then that you finally noticed how quiet everything was. You turned towards the groundskeeper, watching as they turned down a long hallway. You jogged after them, your coworkers following closely behind.

“Where is everything?” You asked, and the groundskeeper glanced over their shoulder at you.

“Downstairs.”

“Right…”

They turned to the left and knocked on a door; a small peephole opened, and someone from within called out.

“Who are these ladies?”

“Attendants.” The groundskeeper explained. “The prince sent for them.”

The peephole closed, and the door opened instead. The guard gestured for you to enter, which you did; you slowly descended down the flight of stairs, noting that the lighting had dimmed and that low, sultry music was playing over hidden speakers. You turned to look at your girls, the pieces of this puzzle slowly forming in your head; it wasn’t until the door opened that things finally started making sense.

The room was much smaller than the grand hall above, without the frills and displays of wealth. It was hard to tell what colors the walls and floors were, given how dark the room was compared to the hall above. Plush chairs, chaises, and even beds were dotted around the room. Men and women were already wandering around, dressed in lingerie or kink apparel. They glanced at you and your party, but didn’t say anything.

Against the wall closest to the entrance of the room was a table covered in sex toys, condoms, lube, and little flags of various colors.

You understood the NDA now; this was not your typical job. No… this was a sex party. You had been hired, by one of the royals, to attend to them while they’re likely doing dope and fucking the brains out of prostitutes. Great. This would be fun.

A door to the left of the room opened up, and out stepped Prince Embo, the tall, broad chested Kyuzan prince. He wore a loosely tied satin robe, which exposed his defined chest; tattooed across his exposed skin were dark green, blocky symbols. You could make out the facsimile of a sun printed along his collarbone, though no other shapes made sense to you. Your gaze trailed down his chest and abdomen, before noting the loose tie which held his robe shut. You wondered if he was wearing anything underneath it…

Embo cleared his throat, and you startled, your gaze ripped from the knot of his closure. Your gaze flicked up to his face, before you remember that he was royalty and some royals found eye contact with subordinates to be threatening; you briefly met his gaze, noting the amusement in his face, before you cast your gaze to the floor.

“What is this?” He inquired, looking you all over; he waded through the crowd, looking over each and every one of you personally. His hand ghosted across the back of your neck, sending shivers straight down your spine. “My attendants, yes? Come. I have uniforms for you.”

You tentatively followed him into the room he had just exited from. He started rifling through a box, paying no mind as the sixteen of you gathered around you.

“What will be our role here tonight, your majesty?”

“Attendants. As is your job title.” He answered bluntly as he pulled out enough uniforms and set them aside. “You do not have to do what you are not trained for. Just offer drinks and take care of my guests.”

“I… well… okay.” You nodded as you grabbed one of the dresses - they were short, but not too revealing. Guests would definitely be able to tell the difference between you and the entertainment, even in the dim light. You held it up to you, noting that the prince was watching you. His gaze held interest, but no ill intent; you weren’t sure why, but your stomach somersaulted and your heart skipped a beat.

“Is that a problem, miss?”

“No, your majesty.” You replied, and he stood to his full height, towering over you in a way not many others could. This, embarrassingly, sent spikes of pleasure to your cunt. If he was this tall, you knew he had a huge cock to match.

“Good. My guests shall be arriving any time now. Do not keep us waiting too long.”

He ducked out of the room, giving you ample room and privacy to change. You slipped out of your work uniform and pulled on the given dress; it was red in color, and made of silk. It clung to your body, accentuating your curves; there was something about this dress that made you feel so pretty. Most other uniforms you were given were unflattering at best and purposely ugly at the best. You appreciated the prince’s good tastes.

The others gossiped about the situation you all were in as you pulled on your shoes. You weren’t much for gossip usually, but you understood how odd this situation was.

“So the rumors of the Prince are true!”

“Who knew that a royal could have such a ravenous appetite!”

“Of course he would! Those types always get what they want.”

You chuckled as your mind wandered to your night with Cad. They weren’t entirely wrong; royals were just as fickle and just as horny as everyone else. But you couldn’t imagine Cad throwing such a party. Hell, you couldn’t even imagine him attending such a circus! Prince Embo surely was something else...

You made sure your shoes were on tightly, and slipped out the door. You wanted to get a feel for the place before the chaos began. You took note of the supplies on the table near the door, and of the bar you had somehow missed. So far, there was nothing illegal, but you weren’t certain it would stay that way.

The main floor was still only populated by prostitutes at this point, despite the Prince’s warning that guests would soon be arriving. Some were fixing their hair or make-up, and some were chatting it up with anyone around. Missing, however, was the Prince. You tried to find his towering frame in the crowd, but that was easier said than done.

A hand slid across your back to your shoulders, and you jumped in surprise. You turned, noting Prince Embo staring back at you. You lowered your gaze respectfully, and he responded by wheeling you around to face him, and gripping your chin in his free hand.

“I think I would like for you to be my personal attendant tonight.” He purred, tipping your head back so he could look at you better. His glowing gold eyes searched your soul, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in response. “Pretty thing. It is too bad you are not one of my entertainers tonight.”

His presence was engulfing, and your heart skipped a beat. His thumb brushed over your lips, and you had to stop yourself from parting your lips and accepting it into your mouth. Mindlessly, you edged closer, and the hand on your shoulder slid downward….

“Well, I’ll be damned.” A familiar voice drawled and you winced; of all the people that could have walked through the door at this time, it had to be Cad. The only royal who actively had a past with you, and the one you figured wouldn’t dare be seen at such a function. You turned away from Embo’s grasp, glancing over at an amused Cad. “Didn’t expect t’ see ya here.”

“I only hire the best.” Embo explained, sauntering over to his chair, which overlooked the rest of the room.

“Yeah. De best.” Cad smirked. There was no malice in his tone; rather, you figured this was his attempt at teasing. “Dat’s de one dat spilled wine all over yer mother’s dress."

Blood rushed to your face, and you were thankful that the lights are so dim; you had just barely forgotten about that whole mess, and now Cad had to bring it back up - to the Queen’s own son, nonetheless! You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Your self-pitying was cut short by a loud laugh from Embo; at first, you were glad that he wasn’t upset by this information. But then, you realized that he was likely laughing at you. Your mood soured, and you crossed your arms over your chest in a pout.

“So that was you? Oh, my mother raved about you for days after that.” Embo leaned back on his little throne, spreading out like he owned the place. Maybe he did.

“I… what?” You dropped your arms, confused.

“You gave her an excuse to change out of that gods-awful dress my father bought her. She wanted to hire you to ruin whatever gifts he gave her, but we had to talk her out of it.”

“Shouldn’t have.” Cad chuckled. “It would be the best job she’d ever have in her miserable little peasant life.”

“Hey now.” You frowned. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Cad waved you off as he drew closer. “You wouldn’t happen t’ be available tonight?”

“She is an attendant, Cad. And mine for the night.”

“Figures. You always bag de good ones.” Cad shook his head as he stood; he looked you up and down with a licentious smirk. “I’ll see you ‘round, den.”

“Of course.”

You watched Cad retreat to settle in a nearby chair. One of the prostitutes - a handsome man - approached, sitting on the arm of the chair. Well… at least Cad was there in case things got out of hand.

Embo called to you, and you turned toward him; he gestured with his two fingers, watching with an intensity as you approached. You bowed your head when you reached the foot of his chair, and he tsked.

“None of that.” He told you. “There is no need for pleasantries here. Now… fetch me a drink.”

-

You had never been around so much sex in your entire life. Everywhere you turned, there was someone giving someone else head, or someone riding someone else’s dick. The room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, of gagging, of slicked up cunts… and the moans… oh the moans!

You edged around one of the beds -where a princess was getting gangbanged by a group of various alien men- carrying the tray of goodies to your prince. Embo was leaned back in his chair, looking surprisingly bored even as two ladies fondled his cock. You leaned down to hand him his drink, which he accepted with a grunt.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying this, my Prince.”

He just shrugged nonchalantly as he sipped at his drink. “I am not feeling particularly inspired.”

With a wave of the hand, he dismissed the two ladies, and closed his robe up. You set your tray down and knelt before him. He carded a hand through your hair, muttering something in his mother tongue. “Is there anything I can do to make this a better experience?”

He glanced over at you, his gaze lazily trailing down your form; something - which you figured was lust- sparked in his golden eyes, but he was not quick to act on his feelings. He gestured with his free hand, and you offered him some sort of smokable, which you figured was not smart given his need for a breathing mask. He lit it and slumped back in his chair.

“No. Stay your course, kamour.”

“Are you sure, my Prince? I… am offering to help you. You hired me to help, right?” You inquired, reaching out to touch his hand. He glanced over at you, and you wondered how much convincing it would take him before he realized you were serious. Not much, it turned out.

“I am no monster. Say the word and I will let you go.”

“Of course.” You settled between his parted legs, your soft hands slowly sliding up his naked thighs. What was it your boss said? Oh, that you were attendants and not whores. Well, what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Your hands swept under his satin robe, parting it open to reveal his large cock. You wrapped your hand around the base of it, and slowly worked your way up his length. He was already hard from the ministrations of the prostitutes, the head of his cock flushed a deep and needy green. You leaned forward, gathering spit in your mouth before drooling it out onto his cock; you locked gazes with him as you spread your saliva down and around his shaft.

“Now, dat ain’t fair.” Cad’s voice startled you from your task, and you turned to spy him sitting on the arm of an unused chair. He was completely naked, with his arms crossed over his chest. “You said she was an attendant.”

“I did not lie. She is attending.” Embo put his mask back into place, and ran his hand through your hair. “She is doing her duty.”

“Yeah, well, I want in on dis.”

“That is up to her.”

You hardly even had to think - you reached for Cad, wrapping your hand around his slick, hard cock. You gave him a pump, and Cad hissed through gritted teeth in response. You gestured for him to move closer, and he did; the princes met gazes but said nothing to each other as you reached the other hand out to stroke Embo’s cock.

You stroked them both at the same time, reveling in the hisses and grunts trickling from their mouths. The way their cocks pulsed in your hands was enough to make your pussy tingle, and arousal slowly built within you. There was something depraved about this - about a lowly attendant pleasuring two powerful princes in the midst of a sex party - but the depravity only added to your pleasure. You could hardly stop yourself from grinding your needy cunt against the heel of your own foot.

“Enough of dis pussy-footin’. Are ya gonna suck me off or what?” Cad drawled, as impatient as ever; you quirked a brow as you leaned forward to give him a long, wet lick. He growled in response, his hands threading in your hair. “Come on, doll… don’t be teasin’ me now.”

“You forget that you weren’t the first man I was pleasing.” You replied, your voice wavering. You weren’t sure it was a good idea to talk back to him, especially in this position. Though, you supposed, you held the power when you held his cock. Any wayward comment and you were in a prime position to bite him. You figured he wouldn’t risk it.

Cad scoffed and you leaned away to wrap your lips around the head of Embo’s cock. He chuckled and leaned back.

“She is not lying.”

“You shut up.” Cad muttered as he pressed a hand to the back of your head, almost as if he was trying to guide you. You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

It went like this for a while - you’d take one into your mouth, bobbing and sucking like a good little whore, before pulling away to take the other one. You felt oddly powerful knowing you had the ability to bring these two princes to their knees with only a touch. You reveled in this power for as long as you could before Embo lifted you up and sat you on his lap. He pulled you close to his chest, purring.

“I am going in you.” He told you, giving you ample time to back out of it. When you didn’t protest, he lifted you as though you weighed nothing, and turned you to face Cad. He guided you onto his cock, and you winced as the head slipped into your drooling cunt. You hadn’t realized that he was quite this large. He gripped your hips, controlling how slowly you eased down onto him so you didn’t hurt yourself.

Cad waited until you were ready before offering his cock to your mouth once more. You parted your lips, your eyes half-lidded and darkened with lust, and he chuckled.

“Are ya cock-dumb already, doll?” He reached out to tangle his hand in your hair. “Are our cocks just dat good?”

You nodded in response to this, greedily latching around his cock and sucking hard. He let out a hiss and tugged at your hair, spurning you to start bobbing up and down his length. At the same time, you had fully engulfed Embo, sheathing his cock deep within you. Your whine was lost amongst the sloppy slurps of Cad’s cock easing in and out of your wet mouth.

Embo slowly, gingerly, eased in and out of you, taking care not to hurt you in the process. Every time he pulled his cock half out of you, you took Cad’s cock to the hilt with a gag. Every time Embo bottomed out within you, you pulled away to breathe. It was tough to find the right rhythm at first, but when you did, the pleasure was all-encompassing. Your head was spinning, arousal burning deep within the well of your stomach; your eyes rolled back and your hands went to your breasts, squeezing so tightly you were sure they’d bruise.

“Think she could take us both in there?” Cad asked, and your mind wandered at the prospect. You imagined the sensation of their cocks filling up your cunt, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The idea was fascinating, and a bit frightening. You didn’t realize that you were drooling around Cad’s cock until your spit splattered on your thigh.

Embo leaned you back against his chest, a finger probing at your cock-stuffed pussy. He slipped it inside, and your eyes went wide; Cad’s cock slipped from your mouth as the air vacated your lungs. You quivered against Embo, a pathetic little whimper escaping your lips.

“No… not unless you intend to split her in half.”

“Shame.” Cad shook his head; he pondered for a minute, before tipping your chin up. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

As if you had other plans. Embo rested his head against you shoulder, purring softly. “I would like to see your pretty face, kamour.”

“Alright.” You turned around, facing the prince; you couldn’t tell for sure, but you guessed he was smiling behind that mask of his. His large hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his warmth.

“Beautiful.” He slowly rocked his hips up into you again, and you whimpered. “A beautiful, sex drunk whore. You like my cock, hm?”

“Yes.” You breathed, matching his thrusts by rolling your hips; his finger slipped out of your cunt, and instead stroked your swollen, trembling clit. A fire built in your stomach, and your vision went blurry. Your orgasm was within reach! You gasped out his name, your voice strained yet velveteen. Embo’s eyes brightened at this, and he reached up to wrap a steady hand around your neck.

“Say it again. Say my name again.” He commanded, his voice husky with his own desire. You whimpered.

“Embo….”

“Again!” He rubbed at your clit faster, slamming up into you with a ferocity you had never felt before. You could hardly find the strength within you, but you couldn’t displease him.

“Embo!” You cried out, your entire body quivering as the fire of orgasm consumed you. Your head danced in the clouds as your body went limp and useless against him. He held you close, his hands dancing over your form.

“Shit, did I miss out on all de fun?”

You lifted your head and glanced over your shoulder to spy Cad with his hands on his hips. You shook your head, your tongue weighing like lead in your mouth. You gestured for him to draw closer, which he did, and you gave his now condom-clad cock a stroke.

“I do think she can take more.” Embo hummed, his hand rubbing at your thigh. You nodded in agreement at this, and Cad leaned down to nip at your neck.

“Good. Do you still want to take de both of us?”

“Yes!” You chirped, and Cad chuckled.

“So eager.” Cad maneuvered you into Embo’s chest, giving him better access to your ass. Cad lubed you up with a bottle he had grabbed from somewhere, and gently eased into you. A strangled cry escaped from somewhere within you as Cad brushed against the thin, sensitive wall separating his cock from Embo’s. You could hardly keep yourself upright, the sensations quickly overwhelming you; Embo had to keep you from falling completely limp onto his chest.

“Easy now. This is not too much for you, is it?”

You shook your head at this. “N-no.”

“‘Course it ain’t.” Cad yanked on your hair, pulling your head back enough so you could look him in the eyes. He smirked, and then sheathed himself within you. You let out a cry, and his smirk deepened into a depraved smile. “Yer a good lil’ doll. You can handle us.”

“Yes! Yes!” You whined in agreement as they both slowly rocked into you. Every inch of you was set ablaze as they took turns massaging that oh-so-sensitive wall. Cad released your hair, his hand instead sliding down to roll your nipple between two of his fingers. His other hand gripped at your hip, keeping you steady. Embo’s hand returned to your clit, pinching and rolling the overstimulated bud around until you were panting and pleading for release. Your admissions only made them hasten their paces, and soon, they were both slamming into you. Your head lolled back on your useless neck, resting squarely on Cad’s chest; your legs quivered and jerked as you chased after your second orgasm. Hands wandered, acquainting themselves with every aspect of your body; this only added fuel to the fire which threatened to consume you once more.

With only a few more thrusts, you came undone. Your vision went white as you rode waves of pure bliss, only faintly aware of how erratic their paces had become. It wasn’t until Cad lurched forward and bit you that you were pulled from your euphoria.

His fangs pierced your skin, surely drawing blood; his orgasm, contained by the condom, manifested in quick, jerky motions up into you. Slowly, he eased out of you, lapping up any blood that had trickled from the wound.

Embo found his pleasure not long after that, shooting his cum deep within you; the searing heat of his seed was unexpected, but wasn’t unpleasant. You were almost certain that if he hadn’t been wearing his mask, he probably would have bit you too. He, unlike Cad, didn’t ease out of you. He let you decide what it was you wanted to do, even if it meant keeping his soft cock in you until he hardened up again. You did, however, ease off of him to sit on his lap.

“Dat was good, doll. I might need t’ keep ya around.”

“Yes, well, you may have competition.” He leaned toward you, humming. “Though, I suppose it would be your choice.”

“Who says I have to choose?” You managed, your voice sultry. They cast glances at each other, and Cad shrugged.

“‘Spose that could work.”

Taglist!: @sat-nam-saint @that-clone-wars-girl

You leaned back into the warm chest of one of your Princes. Huh. You liked the sound of that. Who would have thought that someone like you could pull two Princes!

-

[petre-chose-violence]

The crit they linked is @ enderspawn’s c!techno-critical tag.

Wait, do you mean the entire tag? Did this person went "Just read a book" on you? Like, literally they went "check out this ENTIRE TAG and maybe you'll change your mind" instead of referring to specific points and posts? Bruh. The only way this is not just an elaborate way to say "fuck off" is if the are enderspawn themselves, lmao, but even then it's a dick move

I, mean, I promised to diss these takes, so I'll do my best, but my endurance is not eternal so I will probably not cover the ENTIRE THING.

And to my followers - don't you fucking dare dogpile enderspawn. I know there is probably not enough of you to do that, and I know that a lot of you are reasonable ppl, but if I am wrong about that hear me out - please don’t do any personal attacks and stuff. That’s a no no. Don’t even go and mass disagree with their takes.

Also @ enderspawn, or someone they reblog takes from, if you are reading this, I don't want to start any beef and I have nothing against most of you personally (yet). If you want to respond to this in any way, go ahead. I’m all about having a debate with reasonable people and clowning on unreasonable ones so It’s a win-win for me either way. Also feel free to ignore this if you want, you are not obligated to talk to anybody on the internet. The reason I am doing this is because this anon asked for help, not any form of personal attack.

I am not linking any posts I am responding to because this is more of a c!Techno defense masterpost rather then a diss.

/rp

Ok, formalities out of the way, lets go.

Doomsday Betrayal

So first we have a short take on how it’s wrong to frame Tommy’s betrayal on Doomsday as a betrayal because Techno did the same on Nov 16. This is funny because imagine if I turned it around and said that denying that Tommy’s betrayal is a betrayal while calling Nov 16 that is hypocritical (I actually might do that now). Newsflash - both of these are betrayal, and newflash 2 - an act of betrayal has no inherit moral vailue, it is given to it by context. Techno on Nov 16, Tommy on Doomsday, Quackity joining Pogtopia, Tubbo joining Pogtopia, Punz joining Tommy, Sam joining Tommy, Ranboo apologizing to Techno, Fundy and Niki going against L’manburg on Doomsday - All of these could be put under the “betrayal” umbrella and are good acts at the same time.

Also the difference between these specific examples is that Techno actually contributed to Pogtopia’s cause. /hj

Anyway my take is that Tommy’s betrayal was good for him and his mental health, reconnecting with Tubbo and all that. But, especially considering the circumstances such as being surrounded by enemies and not giving Techno his stuff back, it also was a huge dick move towards Techno and he has every right to be salty.

Also “Tommy apologized” to save his ass after being caught stealing from Techno. “Tommy feels guilty” Techno has no idea.

Technoblade uses his power over people

One of the hypocrisy takes, that for someone who doesn’t like tyranny techno too often uses his power over people to get things his way. Funny because Techno has zero power over people, he can’t even intimidate them properly, the only thing he has going for him is his fighting skill, and a couple of friends as of pretty recent.

Ok, but why using his fighting skills doesn’t make him a tyrant? Because he doesn’t benefit from it. He gets nothing out of destroying tyrannies - no wealth, no power. The only thing he gets from this is a giant neon sign that says “kill this if you want to be a government” over his head. He doesn’t even demand ppl to do something, he just wants them to not 1) be tyrants 2) threaten him, his friends, his pets. There is a difference.

Technoblade doesn’t feel remorse

Except when he does.

Technoblade teamed up with a tyrant and abuser (Dream)

Lol. Yea, Techno had no idea. Going from “Tommy is alone and afraid of an enemy that is much stronger then him in every way” to “Dream abused Tommy” is actually a giant leap to make. Tommy’s “I don’t know if he [Dream] is my friend” could give it away, but again, this just as well could be a complicated relationship.

Same about tyranny bit. For all Techno knows Dream is just some guy who everyone hates for some reason. Nobody ever bothered to tell him that he was a tyrant. “I am more of a president then you” kinda sus, but they were dissing Tubbo there.

And even without that this is a stupid argument because Techno would’ve destroyed L’mnaburg either way, Dre just happened to be offering his help at the time. I mean Tommy also teamed up with Dream for the Battle of the Lake, I don’t see any crit about that.

Holy fuck this is the same post and I am already tired I will return to this after a short break (probaly) in a form of a reblog.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Complexities Unknowable- Chapter Two

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274334/chapters/55737937

Chapter One Link: https://tha-best-url-evar.tumblr.com/post/613354402381807616/complexities-unknowable-chapter-one

Masterpost

Relationships: Established Relationship Dukeceit, eventual intrualiceit, background analogince.

Warnings: Remus Says Things, everyone is sympathetic (but there are some misunderstandings and misconceptions about each other at first), food mention, Things will be sad and they will get more sad but then they will get much less sad very quickly as this story progresses (sorry idk how to tag chapter fics??? on tumblr???), cursing, lmk If I missed anything.

Word Count: 1,373

Deceit despised Patton, there was no doubt about that. He didn’t murder-despise him (he wasn’t a monster), but it was still very hard to find anything to like about the things Morality did. And said. And the ways he said it. And especially, especially, the way that sugar-coated empty-headed cotton ball looked at him- like Deceit actually had murdered someone (although Deceit would concede that when those looks were directed at Remus... it was pretty justified).  

But on the subject of things he hated! Being in The Conscious! Whenever he appeared it felt like a million little needles pricking him and reminding him that he was unwelcome. Another con: Deceit struggled without the ability to flow through rooms, undetectable, like in his half of the mindscape. He was far too exposed for his liking. 

Remus, however, loved being topside, and now that word about him was out he was visiting constantly. Remus also loved doing things that were dangerous and hazardous to himself and others when left unsupervised. And Deceit (regrettably) loved Remus. So. 

It was as the snake lifted his head to see a very upset Patton that he began to question if love was worth it, though. This was going to go so well for them.

Deceit had done what he always did when he was thrust into a situation he wanted no part in. He shut his mouth and observed. And instead of yelling at them, or having a fucking heart attack and insisting that Thomas was a terrible person, Patton extended an offer to prolong their time together. Because nothing about Morality was consistent or made even a little sense. 

Deceit had steered Remus away and teleported them back home as soon as they were out of sight. Immediately, Remus turned to him with his hands on his hips and his nose scrunched up. 

“Since when do you care about making a good impression? You love fucking with them! I know I do.”

“Correction: I don’t fuck with them, I make  a formal appearance and explain my point, only to have them act as though I’m fucking with them. I sure love that! My goddamn favorite.”

“Okay, we both know how dramatic you love to get with your ‘formal appearances’. I say split the difference and just drive a screwdriver through his eye; it makes you harder to ignore and it saves you tons of energy! Or show up naked- he’d have a fit!”

“Because I totally wanted to show up in the first place,” Deceit tossed himself onto the couch, (he hardly had to keep up appearances here). Remus flopped down next to him and took up the rest of the sofa without even trying. He wrapped his arms around the other’s middle, right below Deceit’s third set of limbs. 

“I was doing fine on my own!” Remus explained, punctuating the point by burying his face in Deceit’s ribs. 

“Objectively you weren’t.” 

“You know we can’t really hurt each other. I couldn’t have done anything worse than mentally scar Patton!” Remus’ voice was muffled by the fabric of Deceit’s shirt, but he made no move to get up. 

“It’s not them I’m worried about, you moron.”

The snake-like trait heard a tiny gasp from below him. Remus dragged himself up to throw his arms around Deceit’s shoulders.

“Awwww, you care about me, that’s so embarrassing,” he cooed, smashing their lips together messily. He was grinning more softly than usually when he pulled away.

Despite Deceit’s best efforts, a cackle escaped him. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, halfheartedly pushing Remus back. He let himself wrap a few arms around the creative side as his laughter subsided. For a moment, they were calm.

“I wasn’t being serious, by the way. I know you’re absolutely impervious to emotion.”

“I’m fine,” Remus’ response was too quick. 

“Where do you expect to get by lying to me? You think I don’t know why you were so invested in your most recent project? You think I don’t know why you felt the need to crawl up to The Conscious for caffeine instead of conjuring your own rancid brew like usual? I know you’re distracting yourself, Honey.” 

The other trait was silent for an uncomfortable stretch. When he spoke next, it was barely more than a whisper.

“... Sorry, Dee.”

That shook Deceit down to his core. He couldn’t bring himself to be upset at Remus, and he wouldn’t dare think of any of this as his fault. The protective side pulled him up to look him dead in the eyes. 

“Hey- look at me. I’m not angry. Don’t ever think that I’m mad at you for missing your br- for missing him.” 

Slowly, Remus nodded, and Deceit let go of his face. “We don’t need to talk about it,” the reptilian amended. 

If Remus had made him talk all the times that he’d been overflowing with emotion. All the times he’d sworn on his life it wasn’t because he missed Virgil, but of course it was. If Rem had forced him to drag it all out, rather than just holding him close and letting him distract himself- Deceit was sure he would have died by now. So he returned the favor.

He heard the hitching of Remus’ breath as the trait tried desperately to fight down sobs, but he didn’t say anything. It was impossible not to hold some resent for the “light sides”, when this is what they did to them. When this is what they were left with.

He held Remus close and never, ever wanted to let go.

Before long, Deceit had put on a film to occupy their minds. One of their mutual favorites- Pan’s Labyrinth. They’d been completely immersed in the movie before being so rudely interrupted by a certain someone. A certain someone who was somehow an even better cook than Deceit had presumed. Despite such, he would not be swayed. 

Remus, however, looked pretty damn swayed.

“That was weird, huh?” He stated, chomping on cookies (he’d seemed in much better spirits over the past half-hour, thankfully). Deceit merely raised his eyebrows, still standing in the middle of the room. 

“Not a bit out of the ordinary whatsoever,” he double-spoke, too preoccupied with thought to focus on talking front-ways,  “In fact, I don’t think he was put off by your assertion that he’s not usually ‘nice’. He doesn’t seem like the defensive type, does he?” 

Remus shrugged, flopping face-first down into the couch and grabbing the remote.

“Whatever, now we have movie-watching snacks! They could use more finger-nail clippings, but other than that they’re almost as good as mine!” 

Deceit didn’t respond. He paced the floor, tapping his fingers against his leg. Distantly, he was aware of Remus rambling about something or other- but he couldn’t think about that now. There was a very promising opportunity to consider here, if he could just gather it all together.

“Dee-Dee?” Remus had sat up now, leaning forward to peer curiously at the plotting side.

“Mhm.” Deceit muttered automatically. 

“Hey, Budget Scalesona!”

“I agree completely.”

“Dee!” 

Deceit’s head snapped up to look at Remus, whose face was split with a wide grin. He was practically hanging off of the arm of the couch.

“You’re scheming, aren’t you? You’ve got your scheming face on,” he said with delight, “What are we gonna do? How gory do you want it to get?”

“Nothing like that, you sadist, I’m just... thinking.” It was only about 35% sadistic, but who didn’t love to indulge in a little schadenfreude every now and then? If Patton wanted to know why they weren’t huge fans of his, well, then they’d just have to show him. It would be all too easy to get under his skin, get a nice outburst from him that would show him just how mean he could be. The best way to get to Thomas would certainly be his heart (nevermind the old saying, as the closest thing they had to a stomach side would be the insatiable pit that was Remus).  

“I think we’ll have to finish this film later, Dearest,” Deceit hissed, smirking rather slyly.

Remus sighed dreamily, leaning his chin on his hands.

“You’re so hot when you’re planning revenge.”

Chapter Three Link: https://tha-best-url-evar.tumblr.com/post/616160448347275265/complexities-unknowable-chapter-3

[sad-lonely-and-bad-at-math]

Sad, Lonely and Bad at Math Chapter 3 Scene 3

ao3 link

masterpost

(<-) last scene - next chapter (->)

Jack bit his lip, looking at the cacophonous pile before them. “So... what can I do that would make dealing with all of this a bit easier?” He asked again, making a sweeping motion over the desk, then gently setting his hand on Grant’s shoulder.

The hand almost made him jump, giving Jack a startled look. The larger man immediately pulled his hand back. “Oh! Sorry for startling you...”

Grant nodded, trying to find his thoughts again. “Ah, um... you could... sort through it? Separate out the bills and proposals and random things to sign... if- only if that’s ok with you though!” The paper in his hands crinkled softly as he worried it between his fingers.

Jack reached for the paper in Grant’s hands first, offering a very kind, reassuring smile. “I can definitely do that. I’ll start with that one. This is a lot... but we can figure it out. You’ve done it so far!”

Had he...? It certainly didn't look like that to him. Limp hands let Jack take the paper from him, empty eyes still staring at the spot it had just occupied. Everything he did felt useless, like a huge waste of time…

Jack noticed the expression, and just as quickly as he'd taken the paper did he set it aside. "Gonna move your chair a little," he warned him, before slowly turning him so he was facing Jack now, instead of the cluttered desk. Getting down on one knee, he very gently reached out to cup his cheek. "Hey, look at me. Those don't exist right now," he instructed, waving his free hand dismissively at the papers. "There's a lot going on, but you're capable of handling this. You already have. You have. This studio is still standing, and while Mr. Drew may be the one talking to people I guarantee if left to his own devices he wouldn't have kept this going. That's you. I said that yesterday and I mean every word of it. If the whole is too big and too scary, we'll look at the parts. We sort through this. We can definitely do that. You sign the things you can. You can definitely do that. We'll get to the bigger things as they come, but that doesn't have to be right this moment."

Grant gaped at him, trying to process Jack’s words through the heavy dark fog in his head. Slowly, almost in slow motion, the small man crumbled in on himself, falling apart under the stress of trying to handle the entire financial aspect of the studio along with his steadily worsening mental health. Something... something about Jack made him finally feel like there was somebody else to support him, to catch him and hold him up as he broke. Somehow, he felt like he could trust him, despite only having known him for a day. Maybe he was just that desperate to finally have somebody there.

Jack grimaced, worrying over his decision for about a second before he leaned in and gathered him up into a big hug. How he managed to feel so... sure, about this, when most people received a wide, nervous berth for quite a while, he’d never be able to say. Something about Grant was just... very special to him. Something worth every bit of effort. "I've got you," he murmured. And he did. Physically, and he hoped emotionally. "You've clearly done so much with so little support. You're allowed to struggle. Even if Mr. Drew doesn't understand that, I'll help you how I can."

After another moment of shock at the other's actions,Grant simply... gave in. Gave up, leaned into the hug. Let Jack hold him, hold him together when he lacked the strength to. This... he had never had anybody do this before, had never been able to believe an offer to help him. But Jack was so sincere, how could he not? He was too tired to care if he was ruining everything by being such a fucking mess. Jack could leave if he wanted to, could pull away and get up and walk out the door. But he didn't, he hadn't yet, and maybe.. maybe he wouldn't. What did he know? Nothing, nothing at all. So slowly, he lifted his weak arms, not even strong enough to actually hug him back, only weakly grabbing at the other man's sweater. "Thank you…" he quietly mumbled into his chest, glasses awkwardly smushed against his face and utterly unwilling to move to fix them.

"You're very welcome. Take as much time as you need, I'm here..." He replied softly. After a little bit of silence, he couldn't help himself, and began to quietly hum a soothing tune. It was more instinct than anything. Music always calmed him when he was upset, maybe it would do the same for him.

Grant was glad he was too numb to start crying. The humming almost pushed him over the edge, but in the end he only slowly breathed out and hugged Jack a little tighter.

Jack let himself drift into the music, gentle notes guiding the equally gentle way he held him. He stayed like this for a bit longer before checking in, asking him softly, “How are you doing?”

How was he doing? He wasn't sure. But... "A... a bit better..." he croaked out, voice strangely hoarse. Clearing his throat, he debated if he should pull away now, if this was Jack's way of telling him he should.

While Jack didn’t know what he was thinking, he would have none of that, giving him a little squeeze in the hug, “Do you know anything that helps you in tough times?” He asked softly. “I have a couple things I do, but they’re usually for different reasons than this...”

"Not.. really? I just work..." Work hard, work happy, as the poster on his wall said. He was great at the first part, never quite managed the second. But the continued hug, the little squeeze... "What are those things?"

"Well... one thing that's often helpful is taking a walk... but with someone you trust to talk to. Finding something relaxing to do to soothe your nerves is another. That wouldn't help right this second, but... have you thought about a little plant to take care of, perhaps? I know you said you don't have the room to garden."

"Don't think going on a walk is an option right now... A plant..?" He'd... somehow never considered simply getting a small plant. "I.. maybe I will get one, after work. But right now there's so much to do, so many papers and proposals and bills-" he was getting worked up again, though this time it lacked energy, barely even moving from his place in Jack's arms. "I can't relax with all these things left to do!"

Jack gave him another reassuring squeeze, “Hey, hey. Listen to me, Grant. Or- better yet, look at me.” He pulled away from the hug, just a little, very gently adjusting Grant’s glasses so they weren’t askew anymore before reaching for one of his hands. “Here’s another thing I learned. Just... breathe with me. Take a deep breath in...” He very carefully removed Grant’s hand from its grip on his shirt, only to guide it to press flat against his chest, over his heart so he could feel the rise and fall of each breath. “...and out... and keep doing that. You can’t do any work if you’re panicking about it. So just focus on this for the moment, feeling your breathing and mine.”

A furious blush sprang to Grant's face at every instance of gentle affection, barely able to follow Jack's instructions with how flustered he was. But it startled him out of his spiral. He slowly followed his directions, trying to sync up his breathing to Jack's. He could feel his heart beat under his hand, a steady rhythm, a silent and comforting reassurance. He was here, right here, heart beating and lungs breathing. Everything would be fine.

Trying to keep the color from his own cheeks, Jack focused on what he needed to do to help the accountant out. This seemed to be working at least. The smaller man seemed to untense, calming slowly, and Jack did his best to let him do so uninterrupted. Of course, that left him the task of trying not to stare at him, try not to think about the snowdrop tucked in his pocket or the fact that their position positively lit up his red hair- Damn. He swore he could feel his heartbeat getting faster, blush lining his cheeks as well.

"Thank you..." A quiet whisper in that deep voice, bright blue eyes glancing at Jack's. "I'm sorry for breaking down like this in front of you..."

"There is nothing for you to apologize for. This is hard, very hard, and you've been handling it alone." he murmured reassuringly, offering another gentle smile. "That's a lot for anyone."

"If you say so.." But a little smile was beginning to grace his lips despite his still hesitant voice. "Still, thank you so much Jack."

"Absolutely. I'm glad I could help at all. Do you need a little more time, or do you think you're ready to start sorting? Once we get this into smaller piles it'll look less overwhelming."

"I.. One more minute, perhaps?" He felt calm again, sure, but... He didn't want to pull his hand away yet. Blush returning to his face, he avoided looking in Jack's face again.

"Of course." Breathing gently once more, he averted his eyes again. He occupied himself counting the stitches in his clothes, the wood grain in his desk. "Just tell me when, or if there's anything else I can do."

"Just you being here is more than enough..." They sat in this comfortable silence for a little longer, until Grant decided he really had to get started with work and hesitantly pulled his hand away. "I think I'll be alright now. Let's start sorting through this mess?"

Jack nodded, though he was reluctant to pull away as well. He reached for some of the papers on the desk. "So... bills pile, and a 'things that need to be signed' pile?" he clarified, beginning to separate them.

"Yeah and just ask me about anything where you aren't sure. Actually- Somewhere in there is everything needed for your paychecks, yours and that of the other new musicians. Put those separately too if you see them?" The sight of the pile once again made him feel a little hopeless, but Jack's presence kept him going.

“Can do.” There were certainly a lot of papers, but Jack was determined to keep a positive demeanor until this was done. It seemed like Grant really needed the reassurance. Soon enough he had three little piles that he showed Grant. “There we go! The other nice thing about sorting is that you can really visualize the progress you’ve made. Instead of ‘I made the giant pile slightly smaller’ you can see you actually handled a whole chunk of work.”

Grant looked at him with wide eyes, then at the neat piles, then back at him. And in the next moment he had leapt out of his chair and thrown himself at Jack, arms tightly wrapped around him. "Thank you, thank you Jack, thank you so much..."

He gasped in surprise at the sudden hug, but Jack barely let a moment pass before sheer momentum beat out his nervous thoughts and he returned the hug tight. "H-happy to help!" He said, cheerful and flustered. "I-I hope this'll make it easier for you in the future too..."

Realization caught up to Grant, face turning redder than his hair. "I-I- yeah" he squeaked out, unsure what else to say.

“G-good.” He pulled away then, fumbling with his pockets. “Um... th-then I suppose I should get back to work... and I will see again... hopefully soon?” Very abruptly he shoved the snowdrop into Grant’s hands, standing and tossing a ‘goodbye!’ over his shoulder as he quickly left.

With no idea what just happened, Grant was left to stare at the door Jack had just disappeared through, blinking in confusion. Slowly, his gaze moved downwards, to the object now in his hands. A plastic plant..? Oh Jack didn't.

[frankie-catfish-morales]

Okay. My issues & fave things for Frozen 2 - Masterpost.

Spoilers and negativity beyond the cut. But also positivity! Cause I did like some things.

- The Negatives - 

1. I have serious qualms about the notion that Elsa doesn’t feel like she “belongs” in Arendelle. With her sister. And the family they built. The reason for this is simple. Every single piece of canon that has ever been produced by this franchise has said otherwise. They were separated 10 years (ish). They never wanted to be apart again. As recently as TWO YEARS ago (probably not that long in the movie timeline) Disney produced a short emphasizing their built family, and how home is wherever Anna is. Olaf gets lost in the woods, the wilderness, and they have to go find him because they all belong together. Elsa shows literally no interest in the woods nor being in the wilderness. She then proceeds to sing “When We’re Together” with Anna, and sings this TO Anna:

It frankly feels to me like they forgot what this franchise was all about and the foundations that they have been building it on. Elsa and Anna. Together. The way they have written these characters, to me, is not convincing that they would EVER wish to separate. 

You can argue to me that “Elsa isn’t that far away”. Yes, that is true. She could ice luge down the hill and see Anna and the fam. But you know what else wasn’t that far away? Elsa’s room. Separate is separate. Living with someone with no shut doors and not living with someone but visiting sometimes is not the same. And the characters have stated several times across four releases of visual media and COUNTLESS Disney produced merch that they do not wish to separate. Ever. It’s not just how it has been written.

Now,  I can understand the idea that they were trying to communicate that Elsa was feeling unfulfilled, but it is 100% contradictory with every other piece of literature about this story they have put out, so to me, it made no sense character arc wise. It  was too sudden for it to come up right now, rushed in an opening song for the final movie. Olaf’s Frozen Adventure didn’t come out that long ago, so to me this feels like a complete 180. 

Perhaps what they were trying to say in this movie is that if Elsa didn’t leave, Anna would never allow herself to have a fucking life. You can see this possibly in the scene where Anna leaves with Kristoff without saying anything, and trying to insist on coming with Elsa even if it’s pretty clear she would be in serious danger. You can also see this a bit in the lyrics to “The Next Right Thing”:

“I follow you around I always have But you've gone to a place I cannot find”

“I don't know anymore what is true I can't find my direction, I'm all alone The only star that guided me was you How to rise from the floor When it's not you I'm rising for?” 

Anna does put Elsa before anyone and anything else, even herself. But if THAT is what they are trying to say, they are basically saying Anna and Elsa’s relationship is and has been toxic, or having toxic qualities, and that’s really saying fucked up shit about the whole franchise. Especially because there are so many fans out there who really connected with that aspect of Frozen.

2. I am, quite frankly, really TIRED of the trope that powerful magical women *can’t* be queens. Because they don’t “belong”, because they are “out of touch”, because they need to leave, they need to die (*cough* Daenerys Targaryen), or that they were “mad” or not good for society. That their strength is too much for them to be in society or be a queen. I think it’s quite empowering that Elsa feels free, but I do not like the concept that she couldn’t feel free and be a good queen. That she abdicated and basically rolled out, extremely rushed and in a moment where a lot was already happening. It’s like her being queen in the first place wasn’t even important. And no, she is NOT queen of the Northumbra (I will go into this assertion in my next bulletpoint).  You aren't just automatically queen of something when you aren't coronated or acknowledged by who you are ruling as such in any fashion.  I highly doubt the Native population would make some white girl they just met their queen. Elsa stepped down, and she is now a liaison between the enchanted forest and Arendelle. She’s an ambassador, and Anna is now Queen. Which, if we took the implications out of it, would be fine. I don’t dislike Anna. She’s grown so much, she’d be a wonderful queen. I just think Elsa should still be queen. Elsa can still be a liaison between the realms. Who better to be queen than a woman who is a liaison and has the interests of Arendelle, the Enchanted Forest, and the elements? You can tell me “She didn’t want to be Queen!” as much as you want, but lets get really into the facts here. She suddenly “didn’t want to be queen” because she was written that way. It could have been written differently and would have been in character.

It bothered me so much that Disney Parks thought it was a good idea for the face characters in the parks to come out in the final outfits literally ONE DAY before the movie came out. I had this plot aspect spoiled to me (and I’m not in the spoiler culture but that was a really big plot point to spoil so lets get real here, I’m allowed to be upset) because people posted pictures of Anna in her crown with the tags # Queen Anna, before the movie was even released. I immediately didn’t like it, but I wanted to try and stay positive that it would be convincing, but it honestly just continued to rub me wrong. It feels like they were trying to get cheap “YAS KWEEN” moments for both the Elsa fandom and the Anna fandom, and I felt like it was empty and unnecessary. Anna is a badass regardless. She didn’t need that for a “YAS KWEEN” moment. She has quite a few incredible, powerful, and strong AF moments. I  love her without that.

3. I mentioned in point 2 that “Elsa is not queen of the Northumbra.” The reason I mentioned that is because a friend of mine thought that and was confused. Which brings me to my 3rd point. The mythology and plot that they constructed for this movie was extremely confusing, didn’t explain enough, and had too many plot-holes. That friend and a few of the people she saw the movie with thought Queen Iduna was Queen of the Northumbra. She wasn’t. Another thought she had wind powers. She doesn’t. She was just playing in the wind elemental when Agnarr saw her.

Some more questions:

Did literally none of the Northumbra know their chief was murdered?! Why wasn’t that ever brought up if they did now, and if they didn’t, why didn’t they remember? 

How did the kingdom of Arendelle not realize what sea Queen Iduna and King Agnarr were sailing to? Why would this have never come up before? Oh, Anna and Elsa, your parents were on the way to Rapunzel’s wedding or Tarzan world, but then turned around and set sail on this completely separate, very dangerous sea and we never told you. This, to me, is why the movie was poorly written, no one has any fucking idea what actually happened in some scenes.

4. Speaking of Queen Iduna, if she is Northumbra, and she is used to being around elemental magic ALL THE TIME, why did she react to Elsa’s powers at first the way she did? Why did she interpret the troll’s advice the way she did? WHy did she support and enable Elsa’s father shutting her up and away when she know’s first hand the elementals were good and what those powers could do? 

And like the whole movie was supposed to be why Elsa had magic and I still have no idea. That was not explained well. She's the 5th element? Ice isn't an element. Ice is water. If she’s an element, is she going to die? Or when Anna dies is she going to live forever as an elemental-human hybrid wandering the woods sobbing like Arwen Undomiel was cautioned of? Is it was because her mom saved her dad, linking the two nations? Her good deed gave her power? Like Harry Potter? Okay, but why ice specifically. Anna said that Elsa was “the last piece”. But of what? Of the elements? Again, ice isn’t an element. Ice is water. Water was covered. Was it because she had to right the wrong of the grandfather building the dam and killing the chief of Northumbra? But Anna destroyed the dam with the elementals. Was it so she could find out the truth about what happened? She could have done that without ice powers. Why was it ice? What was the significance of the cave Alhalla (Alhambra?)? Why could she only find out the answers there? Why are we supposed to believe Elsa wants to routinely hang out in a secluded ice cave that is a huge downgrade from her awesome ice castle instead of being with her sister? Is it cause her mother is there? Who is family? So why can’t she lie with Anna, her other family, and visit the cave when she wishes?

The concept of elements and Elsa having some sort of relationship to it, the IDEA is so good, I just was seriously disappointed in how it was executed. I think the only explanation we have here is: “the spirits gave her her powers to unite everyone." And that wasn’t enough for me. WHY ICE THO. 5. I did not, at all, in any way, like when Elsa saw that memory of her singing “Let It Go” and was like, embarrassed of it? Like, “Oh my godddd I did that, how EMBARRASSING....”......That moment means so much to a lot of people, and I felt like that was really OOC and kinda disrespectful. That song is an anthem for people with mental issues and people in the LGBTQ community and it just felt wrong to me. Did NOT like that.

6. I really really wish that Anna x Kristoff AND Anna x Elsa had a longer duet than what was in “Some Things Never Change” and the lullaby reprise. Their voices together are BEAUTIFUL. I think it a missed opportunity, especially when reunited with Elsa and Kristoff. Anna could have had a brief duet with Elsa, and then with Kristoff when he proposes, and then they all sing together for a finale into Anna’s coronation. I am aware there is a duet with Anna and Kristoff in the Delue edition but the version is pretty rough and, it didn’t make it into the film so I’m not counting it.

- The Positives - 

1. The character development. I must confess that I was not a Frozen fan when it first came out. I think I saw it, wasn’t too impressed, then went to Walt Disney World in December 2014, became so over-saturated with Frozen fever literally taking over EVERYTHING, that I became annoyed and resistant. I did re-watch it several times months later to try and get back on board, but I always felt like the plot in the middle was weak, meandered with no purpose, and the whole “Anna wasn’t saved by a man” (which she was. She wouldn’t have gotten to Elsa at all without Kristoff. She would have died in the snow) was less powerful because everyone was acting like Brave didn’t happen. Like it was the first movie to have someone saved by true love through someone other than a love interest. But I’m not re-visiting that shit, I just wanna enjoy Frozen for what it is and gave me positively, which is what I’m gonna do with Frozen 2 when I cathartically post this. The reason I’m going into this is because, I wasn’t expecting strong writing with the plot of Frozen 2, because of the precedent set. But I was SO excited, so HYPE, I literally went day after opening. One thing  I WAS expecting the themes to remain true to the franchise, but we won’t discuss that again. I grew to love Elsa deeply through my own struggle with mental illness (anxiety, depression, adhd). Apparently I have a lot in common with her too. Consuming her in other forms (Frozen on Broadway, Once Upon a Time, meeting her in the Parks) deepened her character and made her more understandable. And Anna. OOF. Was not a fan at all. But I LOVE her now too.  And in this movie. WOW. They were so amazing and rich, and brave, badass, strong, flawed, relatable, and the GROWTH. The way they reacted to things, even if I didn’t like most plot points, was done so well. It really felt like them even though a huge growth jump happened. I could see how they got from A to B. The character writing (other than the things mentioned earlier) was very strong and I’m proud to say I love them so much more after this movie.

2. The music. I have never particularly liked Idina’s voice but she sounds SO amazing, unique, memorable, emotional, vulnerable, and open in both of her songs. 

“Show Me” is personally my favorite, and that whole sequence was just fucking breath-taking, the message so special. Seeing her break down all her walls during that song journey was one of the best parts of the movie. I’ve been dealing with A LOT lately, and this song really just made me feel like things might work out if I continue to be strong and believe in myself, if only for a few minutes.

“Into the Unknown” was such a great tease as being the best Elsa song, and I love that they added that wacky Norwegian singer Aurora in there. I just didn’t particularly like some of the lyrics about Elsa feeling like she didn’t belong. Explained above. 

Olaf’s “This is Fine” song had me smiling so big and is quite literally an eternal mood. *insert Brooklyn 99 “I’m such a Samantha”.gif* “Some Things Never Change” was a great intro song, I love when the 4 get to duet together, though some of Elsa’s lyrics, again, not a fan. 

Anna’s song, despite the things mentioned above, was honestly the most powerful song to me. It’s not something that makes me feel good, or something I will be able to listen to often. But, as someone who struggles with depression and finding the motivation to do anything when something scary or terrible happens, this song was so sososososoosososoososo fucking important to hear. I was crying. I started crying when Olaf poofed and I kept crying through this song.

But by far, the greatest part of this movie, was Kristoff’s 90′s Poison-inspired power ballad. I was fucking CRYING with laughter. SO so good. I have been waiting for a song for Jonathan Groff and this was NOT a disappointment. The backup singers. The imagery! THE BACKUP SINGERS.

3. The beauty. It was just beautiful. Like I don’t know what else to say. The animation was gorgeous. Stunning. I’m in awe.

Other things:

- Olaf giving the recap to the Northumbra

- THAT scene with Anna and Olaf

- Elsa’s hair journey

- ELSAMAREN RIGHTS

- ELSA TAMING THE NOKK

-  When Kristoff finally proposes

- KRISTOFF’S FINAL LOOK. A WHOLE SNACK.

- BRUNI. BRUNI IS BABY.

- The fact that Elsa’s sexuality was left open ended, with the possibility for Elsamaren to be a thing. If they couldn’t outright make her gay, I think this was a good way to keep everyone happy. You could really continue her story anywhere.

Like I said earlier, I’m gonna get over this super fast. It’s Disney, and I’m not trying to get all riled up for months like I did over some TRULY terrible writing. I just wanted to get my annoyances out. I’ve already listened to this soundtrack 6 times in a row, have learned the lyrics to show yourself, and am almost in the mood to see it again. Maybe in a little bit.

Anyways, THAT IS ALL OF IT FOR NOW. I may add more BS later. If  you disagree, that’s fine, but I’m not really going to fight with people about this. I just wanted to get my thoughts out and reach out to other people who were maybe a little disappointed.

[patsdrabbles]

He’s Mine

Title: He’s Mine Fandom: The Traveling Wilburys Pairing: Bob Dylan/George Harrison Rating: Gen Word Count: 2402 Summary: There was a woman standing in the hyacinth flowerbed. An in-universe AU of my WIP Dylarrison fanfic “Planting Trees”; things don’t happen/get revealed like that in the main fic. The gist is the following: Bob is between a broken engagement and a new album that needs to be written and escaped to a mansion he bought in the middle of an English forest. There he meets George, who has explanations for everything. But some things are for Bob to be found out on his own. A/N: Part 20 of my Daily Fanfic Chocolates calendar :D For the prompt “’my current partner is a huge asshole and I need a reason to break up with them, so will you pretend to be my possessive and violent ex’ + Dylarrison” sent to me by both @savoy-brown-shoe and @siliconpine! I put a little twist on it, but I hope that’s alright! ^^ Please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and the DFC masterpost are in the reblogs!)

There was a woman standing in the hyacinth flowerbed.

Bob knew so, because he spotted her first on his walk with George through the garden. George had wanted to teach him more about the plants growing here and their proper care, and Bob had found it all too easy to agree.

Instead of learning about flowers now, however, they approached the woman, who just remained where she stood as they got closer.

It was the fur coat that should have told him, Bob later thought in retrospective.

It was the honey-voiced yet sharp “Bob!” that made him realize that trouble was ahead.

Before the bafflement left him, enabling him to utter the important question of what the hell she was doing here, in England, George already spoke up.

“And who’s that, standing in my hyacinths?”

George frowned and Bob had never seen him so pissed off before. Huh. Maybe he did have a chance of getting out alive of this after all.

“That’s... Macy. The woman I cheated on my ex-fiancée with like an idiot.”

George halted, then nodded knowingly when he remembered – one of the few things they both remembered of their recent drunk late-night conversation.

“Macy–” George started, then paused for a moment, not knowing her last name and regretting the loss of emphasis his address had because of it. “Firstly, I would kindly ask you to get out of my hyacinths.”

She shrugged carelessly, but stepped out of the flowerbed at last. Bob expected George to relax thereafter, but he was clearly mistaken. The tension in George’s shoulders only seemed to increase as he stepped closer towards her.

“And secondly, I would ask you to leave right now and not return, before I get really angry.”

She laughed.

She laughed in his face and showed off teeth that suddenly frightened Bob. They looked canine, and for a split moment, he could have sworn that her eyes flashed yellow and her fingernails were literally sharp as razor blades. He instinctively took as step back.

“Sure, dearie.”

She gave George a put-on lascivious grin and once-over that made Bob want to gag. She was gorgeous, yes, and it had been the last straw to doom his already doomed relationship, but now that he saw her in the daylight? Quite frankly, she was scaring him. And his list of reasons as to why currently kept growing by the minute.

“But I’m not gonna leave without dear Bobby here.”

She said it in a way that would have a bystander think that she was simply implying having a good time, but there was an undertone to her voice that told him that he was a dead man if he followed her. Potentially, literally dead.

“Well, sorry luv’, but I don’t think so.” George’s voice had dropped quiet, but it had a dangerous undertone.

“Dear ‘Bobby’ here... he isn’t going anywhere. Lest of all with you.”

A low, rumbling sound started to fill the air, and it took Bob a handful of seconds to realize that Macy was growling.

“Is that so?” she asked, and when had she moved to stand face to face to him?

Suddenly, faster than his vision could comprehend, a hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and he was being yanked forward.

“You’ll thank me, trust me,” she said with a honeyed voice as her grip on Bob’s shirt tightened.

She only got one step farther before George stood right in front of them, hissing. And fucking hell, had his teeth always been so damn sharp?

“He’s mine, and you are going to let go off him this instant, or you’re not going to leave this place alive.”

For some reason, Bob knew that he wasn’t making empty threats and a shiver ran down his spine.

Without a word of warning, he found himself yanked out of Macy’s hold and pushed behind George and thereby out of her reach. Which was good, because the very next moment, George was already pinning her to a tree with both his hands as she struggled against his grasp. Her fur coat seemed to blur, and Bob squinted, not sure if he had gone insane or was simply panicking.

But in the end, there was no denying the fact that Macy, the woman, had just turned into a huge... wolf?

The wolf was still struggling against George, but his grip didn’t only look vice-like but seemingly was it, as well, and he didn’t let go of her once.

“You will leave this place. You won’t ever return here, either.” He leaned in and let his teeth flash again, staring sternly into the eyes of the wolf who Bob was only then beginning to comprehend was Macy.

The wolf – Macy – turned her head to the side, trying to evade his gaze.

“He is mine to enjoy and you won’t get a bite of him, not now, nor ever.” George turned his head and gave Bob a soft smile that made Bob get weak in the knees for a multitude of reasons. He wasn’t anyone’s anything but he wouldn’t correct George; he could see what game he was playing. “I know a good thing when I see one and you? Are late.”

George leaned in and bared his teeth again, and for the first time since Macy’s unexpevted appearance, the cogwheels in Bob’s head began to turn, and he finally, finally began to understand a good amount of things about George – including the reason why Macy had overtaken herself when she decided to challenge him.

George was not the janitor’s son. Or perhaps he was, but then his dad must have died a very, very long time ago.

Bob had a lot of questions, but all of them disappeared to the back of his mind when George simply picked up the wolf – Macy – and marched her right off the grounds. Hesitantly, unwilling to end up being torn into literal pieces, Bob followed the two of them. He should probably be running, leave before George returned, but for some reason, he wasn’t worried about him. He found that he was the opposite of scared. He felt save with George.

George’s hold on Macy didn’t loosen for a single moment, and by the time the house behind them had noticeably shrunk in size, she was starting to transform back into her human shape.

“Rrrrrgh – let go of me!” were her first words, but George just shrugged.

“You came into my house, young lady–” He grinned, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You play by my rules, and those are to be nice.”

She just snorted and he shook his head as if he were disappointed by her. “Trust me, I could have hurt you if I wanted to – and you really made me want to earlier – but... I won’t.”

She kicked against his shin then but he simply kept walking. Bob didn’t have words to describe what he was feeling right then, but it was an odd mixture of pride and awe and relief.

When George set her down, he kept hold of her with one hand, which seemed to be enough to keep her in place. That came as a relief to Bob since now she wasn’t only throwing George deadly glances, but him, as well. This time around, however, he didn’t take a step back. He remained where he stood with a safe distance to the two of them and kept watching.

“How sweet. Your food is already following you.” Macy laughed. “Does he know that if you want to, you can kill him? That he won’t be a forever-young rock star if you decide against keeping him?” She looked George in the eye and smiled. “You know that he used to be quite famous, right? Are you up to date on the music scene? Because that man was quite something... ten years ago or so.”

It’s a stab at him but Bob couldn’t have cared any less. George already knew who he was, had for a while. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like George was going to make a go for his blood anyway. Bob was pretty sure of that, although he wouldn’t have been able to explain why.

“Or do you maybe want your own, personal... rough-voiced songbird?” Macy raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely interested now.

George remained silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“I don’t owe you an answer, and I hope you’re aware of that.”

She grinned. “But...?”

“He has other skills that are worth keeping him around for... for now.”

She laughed, and this time it sounded genuine. Meanwhile, George’s tone of voice wasn’t the only thing that had had a shiver run down Bob’s spine. No, much rather it was the implication of George’s lie that had caused Bob’s breath to hitch.

“Look, I’ve spent a lot of time and money following old Bobby here.” She looked around herself with an evaluating glance. She also seemed to see or smell something in the trees at their side, judging by her tilted head and suddenly narrowing eyes. “Allow me to go on a hunt on these grounds – I’m assuming they belong to the mansion? – and I’ll go. Sounds fair?”

George remained quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“I’d hardly call showing up on someone’s flowerbed and demanding his lover fair, but I see where you are coming from. But these are Bob’s grounds, not mine. You’ll need to get his permission.”

Their gazes met, and George nodded gently once Macy had turned her head to look at Bob.

She grinned, and her teeth were sharp, and Bob just wanted for her to be gone.

He lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug and murmured: “Sure, go ahead. But don’t kill off the entire forest population, alright?”

He already anticipated another one of her laughs, but instead, George spoke up again.

“You swear on your life to stand by your word? You get to hunt on the grounds today, but you won’t ever get closer to the mansion than this.” He pointed at the section of the road they were standing on. “And you won’t ever return here after today, nor follow Bob ever again?”

She looked back at Bob for a moment, then at George again, and smiled tightly.

“You have my word.”

George nodded and let go of her. She kept standing in front of him for a moment, considering her next move, and looked toward the forest again.

“Alright. Goodbye then.”

She turned around and left to their right, turning into her wolf form the very second she broke into a run.

George and Bob remained standing in the middle of the street for a long, silent moment.

“I... cheated on my ex-fiancée with a murderous wolf?” Bob finally managed to get out.

You told her I was your lover? was what he wanted to ask as well, but didn’t.

“Yes?” George eyed him carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop and Bob starting to run away. He honestly wouldn’t have blamed him.

But that moment never came.

“Thank you, George. That was–” Bob met his eyes and gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.”

When neither of them said anything further, Bob pointed toward the mansion with a movement of his head. “Let’s get back, huh?”

They slowly made their way back, George constantly checking the woods to their sides for movement, but relieved that there was none, and Bob walking quietly next to him, mostly staring at the ground, lost in thought.

Back inside the mansion, however, Bob stopped walking the moment they both had crossed the threshold.

“You are not going to kill me. Even though you are a vampire or something like that and easily could.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement.

George took in Bob for a moment. He should have known Bob better, trusted him more. He wasn’t sure when he could ever have brought up the matter of “by the by, I’m undead”, though. It didn’t matter anymore anyway; Bob knew now. And he was still there and trusted him.

“I won’t. And yes I am and could, but I won’t. You don’t know how hard I tried not to, and now I found a way, and–”

“George, you’re babbling.”

Bob was smiling and George took a deep breath.

“I’m sure you have a few questions.”

“I have a great load of ‘em. But that can wait for later. For now, just– Thank you again. I didn’t know what Macy was till earlier, and you saved my life, literally.”

Also, you are really strong? And you said I was your lover in a way that convinced even me it was true for a second? was what Bob didn’t say but thought as he saw what had happened pass again in his mind’s eye. He had been a hell of a lucky bastard, having had George by his side when Macy had appeared.

He was a hell of a lucky bastard to have George by his side, full stop.

Even though it was as a friend and not, as George had implied for the sake of his subterfuge and keeping Bob safe, as a lover.

There was still the matter of George’s former fiancée.

And even that aside... Bob was unsure if George really reciprocated those – he would have had to admit to it to himself eventually anyway, so he might just do it today – feelings he was starting to develop for the other man.

George gave him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

He looked at Bob with a concerned gaze, and only then did Bob realize that he was shaking.

George spoke up again. “I could go collect some herbs in the garden, but...” He shook his head. “I trust she’ll stay away from the mansion and, more importantly, you now, but... Better not take any risks.”

Bob raised an eyebrow in question as George’s gaze got lost in the distance and he scratched his chin.

“I think we have a tea in the kitchen that should do the job, though, as well.”

George smiled as he reached for Bob’s hand and took it in his.

“C’mon, let’s get something for the nerves.”

Bob followed him – trusting him with his life, in fact, and shaking more than before now that George’s colder hand held his own hand, gently.

[winterheart17]

How To Make A Writer Snap

TITLE OF STORY: How To Make A Writer Snap

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Part 28

AUTHOR: winterheart17

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

STORY GENRE: Romance, Drama, Erotica

STORY SUMMARY: I think we can all just agree this has turned into a proper series even though it started off as a compilation of one shots for my story ‘How To Love A Writer’! What happens when a struggling virginal historical romance writer and the God of Mischief are thrown together, locked in a mansion and agree to a game of love and seduction?

STORY RATING: M

STORY WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None for this!

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Finally back after a hiatus! There’s not long now till this series ends and all I can say is, boy, oh, boy, it was difficult wading back into the writing pool, but I hope I made all of you proud of Little Writer this chapter! Feedback would be wonderful and ever inspiring for writing updates! <3 Do let me know if anyone would like to be on or off the tag list.

Tagging @devikafernando @ureyesonly21 @nuggsmum @queen-sands @ihatespoilerss @say-my-name-assbut @hsvbabe @jrubalcaba @dandelionlady96  @ashleyloveslots  @kiera-auroraborealis @alexakeyloveloki @damageditemm @lokilvrr @cuteandnerdythings @everythingeverywherelistening@wildest-dreams-at-midnight @tfwqueenidjit @xxxprettydeadgirlxxx @noplacelikehome77 @vertdragain  @jessiejunebug @toaster-strudel-witch @a7xlizardqueen @starscreamloki @tinchentitri @prettyjewel93@chantimoondancer @dangertoozmanykids101 @winterisakiller @humbleslvt @aeciru @paanchu786

Masterpost of How To Love A Writer

Alternate link to Masterpost of How To Love A Writer (in case the above doesn’t work)

“And was it a misunderstanding when Halwen delivered the news to me – the breaking of the betrothal… a treaty years in the making – instigated by your son, Loki, with no other explanation other than a… Midgardian girl is involved?”

He said the word Midgardian with so much vile contempt, I couldn’t help but flinch.

Right.

Well… if that wasn’t some whole new level arrogant ass bullshit I had to just sit through.

What? I was beginning to think all ethereal beings were cut from the same cloth save for the one right next to me.

And as much as I wanted to shovel is words back into his mouth – insert internal eyeroll at his attempt to intimidate him – there wassomething pervasively withering about his glare.

It was almost as if I was nothing more than a schoolgirl getting a dressing down in front of the entire school.

“Answer me,” he said, sharply.

I couldn't help it – my eyes darted instinctively to Loki, who for once, was looking at me, intently. Studying me.

Curious as to what would appear from my lips.

Breath caught in my throat as I found myself unable to decipher what laid beyond the expression on his face.

“Here we go again,” Thor muttered beneath his breath and I found some small measure of comfort in them.

I was just about to sneak him a sly smile – one that conveyed I was completely commiserating with him when a fist thumped the table.

The sudden and loud noise reverberated around the hall – causing me to jump in my seat as it yanked my attention back to him.

Impatience donned his face as he leaned forward, and I found myself thinking wistfully what a shame it was that a veil of cruelty loomed in the shadows and planes of his face. He would have been breathtakingly beautiful.

Starlit eyes framed by thick regal-like bushy brows that were about five shades too dark for his hair. On any other, it would have looked like a botched job at the salon. But all it did was accentuate his eyes and served as a stark contrast to his bright, luminous skin I could only liken to silk spun of moonlight.

It appeared, the Universe wasn’t fair.

Of course, ethereal assholes had to be unnervingly beautiful while carrying out their assholery.

“Did you think you could rival my daughter – a princess?” he sneered and it took every bit of me not to roll my eyes in retort.

“Why not?” I muttered, annoyed, under my breath instead – thinking no one else would have caught it only to be rewarded with a low chuckle from the entity I had almost forgotten was beside me.

Ehrendil slammed his fist on the table once more.

But this time, I didn’t jump.

As strange as it was, all the fear that had thrummed in my veins just moments ago seemed to have vanished – dissipated as liquid anger began to filter in.

Anger at being mistreated.

Anger at being talked down to.

Anger at being despised over something I had completely no power over.

And so I sat there – straightening my spine, nugget by nugget until I met his gaze simmering low with anger, head-on.

“What did you say?” he asked, brusquely, placing both hands on the table.

I almost laughed. What was this display – the equivalent of a dog puffing up its chest?

Shushed murmurs rippled across the crowd.

It was clear – he wasn’t looking for an answer.

This was a challenge.

The sensible thing would have been to remain tight-lipped.

Stay low.

Bite my tongue.

My gaze drifted towards Loki.

I couldn't help it.

He still drew me in like a moth to a flame.

Speak up.

Speak up.

Speak up.

I couldn’t dampen the yearning I felt for him – could barely contain the burning I felt in my chest as I longed for him to say something.

Do something.

But I saw it.

Saw the barely discernible tilt of his chin and growing caution in his eyes that warned me against it.

Not another word, little writer.

I could almost hear his voice in my head.

And it felt like lead in my throat.

There it was – that familiar sting behind my eyes.

I shouldn’t have been surprised – I really shouldn't have. But even after all this time – he still found ways to let me down.

Fuck you.

I swallowed it.

Pushed it down.

There would be a time and place for me to scream and shout and cry and grieve – this was not the time.

Perhaps it was the squaring of my jaw; perhaps it was the hardening in my eyes – but he shook his head – visibly this time with eyes widened – as the realization of what I was about to do dawned upon him.

Too late.

“I said why not?” I snapped, head swiveling back to face Ehrendil.

It was as if the entire crowd drew a huge collective gasp.

The audacity, I could hear them whisper.

The nerve.

Yes, my goddamn fucking nerve.

Shock flickered in those starlit eyes just for a fraction of a second before stirrings of rage settled in. The corners of my lips turned up ever so slightly in cynicism – there was no denying the punch of satisfaction in my gut.

He slammed both hands on the table – in a manner that was quickly becoming reminiscent of a petulant child who was not getting his way.

“What did you say?” he repeated once again, his voice a low stricken bellow.

I exhaled impatiently – making a show of it to aggravate.

“God, are you deaf?” I snapped.

I could have sworn I heard a choke beside me – and an additional few throughout the hall.

I could have also sworn Ehrendil almost fell off his seat. Odin too, by the looks from my peripheral vision.

Good.

“I… said…,” I reiterated, pushing my chair back, slowly.

Deliberately.

Locking gazes with him, I drew out the sound of its legs scraping across the floor.

Grating it on his nerves.

“…why not?” I finished, an eyebrow raised.

And there I was – standing tall, full and proud with a spine that no longer wanted to shrink in places I would rather forget.

Silence.

Shock.

I don’t think anybody dared breathe.

He froze.

Almost as if unable to comprehend what had just transgressed.

I pursed my lips.

Head held high.

Reveling in feeling as if I was finally standing in the sun after months of being tucked away like a shameful, dirty secret.

A tremble.

And then – like a drop of red paint in water, anger spread across his skin – mottling moonlight silk and tainting it with fury.

“You dare speak to me in such a manner?” he roared.

“Why? Just because you plucked a crown out of thin air, placed it on your head and called yourself a King?” I retorted.

Another choke.

Though I’m pretty sure it came from Loki’s direction this time, who stood up abruptly with so much force, it sent his chair clattering backwards.

“King Ehrendil, please forgive her – she knows not what she speaks of,” he jumped in, bowing ever so slightly in Ehrendil’s direction.

I wanted to hurl.

When was he relegated to something so weak and meek?

I opened my mouth, but Loki shot me a sharp glare and a warning shake of his head.

He gestured at me with his hand, beckoning for me to lower myself as a humbling act in front of the arrogant king.

Over my dead body.

Glaring back at him, I squared my jaw.

He’d be a fool to think I would continue holding my tongue.

I turned back to Ehrendil, who was trembling with rage in his seat at his very moment.

“Why should I respect someone who can’t even raise their own child right?” I blasted, throwing my hand out in Halwen’s direction.

Glancing over at her, I wanted to laugh palpably at the pathetic imagery of her hand on her chest in feigned shock.

At her affronted facial expression.

At the damsel in distress act she still insisted on pulling.

“Father, I--…,” she immediately responded in that saccharine voice only to have Ehrendil hold up his hand, cutting her off.

“You dare speak of my daughter in such a manner?” he growled.

“Oh, please. I think you can do away with the theatrics as we’ll all agree that theydon’t work on me,” I bit out.

I didn’t think it was possible for him to grow redder.

But he did.

“Guards!” he roared.

Still, I didn’t flinch.

Quite frankly, I was beyond the point of caring.

Throw me in a cell for all I care – it wasn’t as if I wasn’t being thrown around like a ragdoll at the rate they were going.

“Ah, I see. So, that’s where she picked it up from – the second you all hear something you don’t like, you decide to stronga—” I started to scoff only to yelp when I felt fingers wrap themselves tightly around my wrist and yanked.

Hard.

Painfully.

“Wha--?” I protested, whipping around and finding myself face-to-face with a pair of familiar green eyes that flashed with anger.

Loki.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“What am I doing? Can’t you tell?” I rebuked, gritting my teeth in defiance as I tried to wrestle my wrist out of his grasp.

But it was to no avail and I grunted in frustration.

“Let go!” I growled, using my other hand to shove at his chest.

He barely budged.

He pulled at my wrist with so much force, I winced and stumbled forwards.

“That’s enough to your madness,” he snapped, eyes alight with rage.

And it felt like a slap to my face.

I froze.

And it was if the world had stopped turning.

That’s enough to your madness.

Again and again the words rang in my head.

Loud and clear.

I felt like I was reeling.

I shouldn’t have been surprised – really. Breaking my heart seemed to be a thing he had grown accustomed to.

But it hurt.

God, did it still hurt.

And there it was – that familiar sting behind my eyes and the rising acridity in my throat he always seemed to bring.

“Madness?” I croaked.  

He paused, the hitch in my breath cutting through the anger in his eyes.

I gave a hollow laugh as I nodded my head.

“Yes. Madness…,” I whispered, voice breaking.

I blinked.

Trying to swallow the pain.

The hurt.

But all it did was leak onto my cheeks.

Eyes wet and bright.

So they could see clearly for once.

He faltered.

Eyes filled with questions as they searched mine.

“You’re still defending her after all this time?” I breathed.

I couldn’t help but feel the bubble of rage boiling beneath all the layers of hurt and heartbreak.

And worse –betrayal.

My wrist went limp and slack in his grasp as frustration flared to life in his eyes.

“I’m protecting you!” he seethed.

A sound of exasperation.

“I don’t need your protection,” I snapped, seizing his distraction as an opportunity to knock his hand away.

Before he could get another word out, I whipped my attention towards Halwen.

“You say you lovehim,” I pointed out, eyes narrowed in accusation as I felt the word ‘love’ roll off my tongue like acid – cheapened by her presence.  

Her lips pursed, much like her father – a petulant little child who insisted she had been wronged.

Her eyes widened and the voice that came out next was soft and small.

Like a victim.

“We were meant to be wedded… until… until…,” she rebuked, pausing for effect as she turned to look around the table – giving everyone a good show of her tears glistening in her eyes.

I had to hand it to her – she was really getting into it.

Playing the crowd like a fiddle – save for a bemused little snort I heard from the adorable buffoon that was still seated next to me.

“Pray finish,until…?” I taunted and it was perhaps barely noticeable to everyone else in the room but I saw the slight shadow of a furrow between her brows – irritated she had been caught in the act and I had called out on her bullshit.

She pursed her lips, scrunching her nose slightly as she shot me dagger glares.

“Until…you stole him and destroyed the treaty,” she snapped.

I let out a rather incredulous laugh.

She paused – confused.

I couldn’t help it – the bubble of birth bursting forth from my chest.

Because, really, how was one supposed to take her seriously?

“So, which is it?” I asked with a shake of my head even as the sound of my laughter lingered in the air of puzzlement.

There were little hushes of bewilderment amongst the crowd – even Odin and Queen Frigga exchanged inquisitive glances.

I could feel Loki’s eyes on me.

Probing.

Burning.

What are you up to, Little Writer?

Could almost hear his voice inside my head.

“Which is what?” she huffed, impatiently.

I looked at her, eyebrow raised as I scoffed to which she shot me an indignant glare.

“Pray tell, if you think so lowly of us Midgardians – what makes you think I command enough of a presence then for such a disruption? Am I, one, inconsequential enough that you can barely stomach eating at the same table as I do – or, two, does my existence hold enough weight to break, as you say, a treaty yearsin the making?” I bit out, condescendingly.

Her features looked painfully pinched.

Good.

Even a quick glance at Ehrendil showed him struggling to comprehend and swallow this turn of events.

Well, this Midgardian chit still has some fire in her blood.

“Yo—,” she started to retort, but I cut her off with a brush of my hand.

“So, again, which is it?” I repeated, forcefully, with a square of my jaw.

I’m pretty sure I heard a choke or two.

And even if it didn’t come from Halwen and Ehrendil themselves, it looked as if they were about to get conniptions.

“Oh, brother, I like this one,” came a muffled whisper and it was difficult to suppress a smile even in the heat of things.

And even though Loki remained wordless – nothing but a comfortable stretch of silence that laid in the wake of Thor’s words, I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of courage.

“Or… perhaps, rather, he wanted to break this treaty because he doesn’t want to wedyou. Did that ever cross your selfish little mind?” I pushed forward.

If I hadn’t already pushed her over the edge, that certainly did as pink slowly spread across her cheeks and her eyes narrowed with hatred.

“Frankly, I shouldn’t even be surprised – God knows both your parents appear to have a habit of treating people like gifts ready to be exchanged for conveniences. Like gifts robbed of their dignity to make their own choices,” I continued.

But I had barely gotten the last word out of my lips when a loud roar erupted within the walls of the hall – startling me.

I turned to its direction.

Odin.

His eyes spat with rage upon meeting mine and I could have sworn I heard the crackling of electricity in the air.

The tiny hairs on the nape of my neck and arms stood erect.

I felt Loki start beside me, his hand reaching out instinctively to clutch my forearm – as if a warning to brace myself.

“Insolence!” he bellowed, his voice a furious timbre that echoed like the rumblings of purgatory.

He stood up brusquely, hand outstretched as he pointed at me – the pariah. Eyeing me like I was nothing more than a piece of rotten garbage who had been discarded past my use.

The entire hall fell into silence – gripped by fear as if death had touched upon them.

Their King had spoken.

“You know nothing of our traditions or the importance of what is at stake here,” he snarled.

I opened my mouth, barb at the ready on the tip of my tongue only to feel the grip around my forearm tighten.

I shot an irritated glance at Loki only to pause momentarily at the warning look on his face.

“Don’t,” he mouthed.

But I was beyond caring.

Shaking his hand off roughly, I whipped my attention back to Odin.

“You know, people often mask really shitty attitudes and moral aptitudes with this justification label they love to slap onto everything – tradition. Like, why are you being such an asshole? Don’t look at me, I’m just following tradition! Or, who made these barbaric rules? I don’t know, but we’ve got to follow them, because… wahey… it’s tradition, right?” I seethed, throwing my hands up in the air.

I was pretty sure I was making myself out to be a total nutcase what with my rant in the middle of what I could only define as an intergalactic meeting but hey, if they were already treating me like dirt, I might as well go all the way and get a things that have been weighing me down off my chest.

Damn did it feel good to say that.

Odin remained unmoving.

His expression harsh and pinched – almost painful to look at.

Almost.

“And while we’re at it – yes, I’m calling you out on your really shitty attitude and F-grade minus parenting. I mean, you’re acting like you’re so shocked and scandalized that a Midgardian girl, or whatever the fuck it is you call us, is here – when in reality, you’re the one who had this fucking brilliant idea of dropping your son off on Earth so that he could learn some manners and humility…” I continued ranting, before pausing just for a fraction of a second.

“… both of which you could use in spades,” I finished, chin tilted in Odin’s direction.

I could have sworn I heard a grunt.

And he looked as if he was about to pop a blood vessel.

If only I were so lucky.

“So, you only used Earth and me just because our reputation of being professional babysitters really preceded us. I mean, we’ll take the flattery – but I’m not here to undo all the fuck-ups you’ve done throughout your years of shitty parenting. And more importantly – don’t discard me when I’ve finally served my use. The whole time I’ve been here you’ve treated me with nothing but contempt and disgust and why? Because you think me and my kind are beneath you?” I fumed.

I knew I was running my mouth – knew I was courting trouble what with the way Odin was turning red in the face. With the way his jaw was locked and his eyes hardened as he tried his damndest to stop his hands from shaking with rage.

But I saw it – the telling tremble.

The slight curl of his lip.

Or perhaps it was I who was trembling – word after word falling out of my mouth, fueling the rage that ran in my veins.

I had had enough.

I wasn’t about to allow myself to be pinned on the spot and interrogated as if I had anything to be shameful about. As if I had anything to be blamed about when it was clear these were immortals who had no qualms about tinkering with the lives of mortals for their convenience.

To hell with all of them. If I was going to go down, I may as well go down in all my pent-up truth.

Plus, just taking in all their shell-shocked and scandalized expressions made it worth it.

“I’ll have you know – in our world, we call that racism!” I spat.

I felt a hard yank on my arm.

“What?” I snapped at Loki, eyes livid emeralds and exasperation smeared across his face.

“Do you have a death wish?” he hissed.

I had to force a choked laugh down my throat.

“Yes, because that is what you immortals do. When you don’t like something, you lash out and use brute force to twist someone’s arm and bring them to their knees,” I rasped.

I jabbed a finger in his chest.

Hard.

“You’re like that. Ehrendil’s like that. Hell…,” I broke off, shifting my attention back to Halwen who up to this point, had kept her pretty little pout sealed as she watched events unfold in my undesirable favour.

“… that’s why you’re so upset. It’s because he’s a toy you can no longer have and you need someone else to blame. Someone else you can hurl all your hatred and abuse towards because the very idea of his adulation for you having vanished is simply inconceivable,” I scathed.

Her bottom lip wobbled and I could practically see the cogs turning in her mind as she scrambled to come up with a defence to refute what I had just laid out for everyone else to see.

“Well, here’s a news flash, princess – this is all on you. You took the good he had for you and killed it all on your own. Whatever it was he felt for you – you destroyed it the night you found out his true identity as…,” I continued, only to be interrupted by a fit of coughing from Halwen.

I felt the entire room’s attention shift.

As if everyone was sitting a little straighter, ears perked and primed for what had almost been revealed.

Almost.

“… as the less favoured prince,” Halwen cried out, scrambling for a cover with alarm flashing in her eyes as she looked over anxiously at Ehrendil.

Tensed.

A grim look on his face.

His lips pressed together in an unforgivingly harsh line.

And that was when it hit me.

He doesn’t know.

I looked back at Halwen and for the first time, saw desperation in her eyes – her plea to me loud and silent all at once.

Less favoured prince.

The words rang out loud – hung low and heavy in the air like shackles draped over Loki’s neck.

And it was because he was still a prince – still an Asgardian, not a Frost Giant that they still wanted him.

That marriage was still on the table.

It wasn’t him they wanted.

It was his identity.

The honour that came with it.

The power that came from its pretense.

She wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

And it felt like a sledgehammer to my gut.

I turned to him, slowly.

Feebly.

A strange wave of melancholy washing over me, bringing to high tide tears in my eyes.

They stung.

He looked at me, eyes pained and confused. His arms hung limp by his side like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

It wasn’t my secret to tell, but God, God did I wish I could tear off the mask he had spent years hiding behind for the whole world to see.

For the whole world to accept.

For me to… love.

“Do you see?” I whispered, voice tethering on the edge of breaking.

His eyes searched mine.

Gently.

Tenderly.

Bright and shiny with unshed tears.

“That’s why he still wants you. That’s why shestill wants you. Not for who you are. But for your title,” I croaked.

Is this what you want?

The silent question hanging between us.

Is this the life you want to squander away?

He blinked.

But the tears that rolled down were mine.

It was strange standing there – feeling my heart break not just for myself. But for him.

And for the first time – I saw it.

Finally saw the understanding unravel in his eyes with so much softness and vulnerability, I came undone.

Undone in the way his lips parted, my name slipping out so quietly and breathlessly from between them like a prayer that would bring him to his knees.

“I--,” he started to whisper, soft and gentle and yielding – in all the ways I had ever envisioned him to be whenever he looked at me.

In all ways that filled out the hollow in my chest.

Even if only for a second.

But it wasn’t to last.

“Enough of this insolence!” Odin announced, gruffly.

And it was gone.

All traces of tenderness vanished in the air – there was no room for even a wisp of it before this King.

I turned to look at him, slowly.

Head held high.

Cheeks stained with tears.

And our eyes locked.

“You dare enter our realm and denigrate our traditions and the order of things,” he accused and it took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at the hypocrisy.

A. Lot.

“Isn’t that what you have done too?” I scoffed, unable to keep the retort from shooting straight out of my mouth.

And he had the audacity to wonder why Loki had turned out this way.

That gave him pause.

Irritation flickered across his face briefly, but he ignored it – pushing through.

“You speak of choices so freely…,” he resumed and I steered myself ready for the stinging barb that was bound to follow.

His eyes narrowed.

And I tilted my chin upwards in defiance.

“Do you truly believe he would choose you over her?” he mocked.

I swallowed.

He knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of me.

And the truth was – it did sting.

“Over this kingdom?” he booked, his hand made a sweeping gesture across the table.

Hitting exactly where it hurt.

Dead centre.

Because that was the truth – Loki loved power. No, perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. Loki craved acceptance, desired adulation – and he was blinded in his belief that power would bring it all to him.

Odin was right.

Loki would never give up the kingdom.

His silence throughout the entire ordeal was in it, an answer itself.

And while it hurt – each thought a stab to my chest – this was nothing new.

This was something I had spent nights crying over.

Wheezing.

Gasping.

Hollowed out.

It was a demon I had since learnt how to make peace with.

“It’s okay,” I breathed, my throat starting to constrict.

It’s okay.

And I wasn’t sure if the words had been just for me.

A reminder.

Be brave.

The little voice in my head whispered.

Odin frowned – unable to make out what I had just said save for the slight unintelligible mumble it had come across.

“Speak up, Midgardian,” he ordered, his patience wearing visibly thin.

“I said, it’s okay, I choose me,” I said.

Weakly.

Feebly.

Yes, it was wobbly.

Yes, it was shakey.

And yes, I sounded damn near close to everything falling apart.

But I said it.

Odin’s eyes widened.

“It’s okay,I choose me,” I repeated once more.

Louder.

Clearer.

Like it was some sort of catharsis that fueled liquid courage in my veins.

“You choose yourself?” Odin echoed, incredulously.

As if he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

I nodded.

Be brave.

Came that little voice again.

And this time, there was no fear.

No ragged breathing.

No pounding in my chest.

There was only peace.

There was only bravery.

There was only me.

I took in a deep breath.

“Choosing myself means being unafraid of speaking what is true to me. And me, this Midgardian whom you hate and despise so much, me – I have seen your son. I have seen who he is and I lovehim. The question is – do you?”

A sharp intake of breath.

Loki.

But I didn’t look his way.

No matter how much it killed me inside.

Be brave.

Even to the sound of your own heart breaking.

My bottom lip quivered.

“But don’t worry – I don’t intend on loving him any longer.”

[bungoustraydogsbigbang]

We’ve come to the end of the Soukoku Big Bang 2019! Before we move on to the master post for 2019, we would like to express our sincerest thanks to all of you. It has been a wild ride and us mods couldn’t thank our participants enough for being such lovely people to work with. There’ll also be a feedback form the participants can fill in! The link will be distributed through email and shared in our discord server. We would like to know how you think about us and how you would like us to improve through our feedback form!

If you missed your chance this year, don’t worry, we’ll be back again in 2020! Do stay tuned for some exciting information on where this event will be going next year! We have some “big news” waiting for you!

Without further ado, here’s the masterpost for all entries of Soukoku Big Bang 2019! 

M A S T E R P O S T

It Was Worth Trying by MidnightLightHowlite | Art by Misa

Rating: General Audiences

Seeing Dazai float face down in a river was not all that unusual. True, it hadn't happened in four years, but the view was not exactly a foreign one. No, what was foreign was the fact that Dazai seemed to be shorter. And younger. And didn't remember him. In retrospect, Chuuya probably shouldn't have let the boy call Mori because that allowed his boss to put him on babysitting duty.

(Or Dazai gets deaged. No romance will happen till they are both the same age again.)

Bandaged Sheep by MidnightLightHowlite | Art by Abel

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

There had been something very weird, very off about the new recruit. He had popped up out of thin air a few months ago, wrapped from head to toe in bandages. Not a word of what he did before, saying he wanted to join the sheep. He wasn't strong or skilled, and truly, there was no logical reason for Chuuya to pay him any mind.

But then the Port Mafia put a huge bounty on his head and things started to get interesting

these days, you’re fine by AquarianTwin | Art by Nella

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Fifth-grade classmates Q and Aya are convinced that their older brothers would make a perfect pair if they’d just stop fighting for five minutes. Dazai and Chuuya, who have been dating for over a year, find this too funny to correct them.

Dazai takes in his younger sibling, Q, after they’re removed from their father’s home. Overwhelmed by the responsibility of raising of a child when he can barely keep himself alive some days, Dazai leans on his partner, Chuuya, to help lead him through. It’s a good thing Q gets along so well with Chuuya’s younger sister, but Dazai thinks he might die of laughter if the pair try to “secretly” set him up on another date with his own boyfriend.

Project Pinocchio by EKmisao | Art by Ginny

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

What kept the youngest mafia executive alive enough was a new file, on a newly-acquired powerful cyborg. It started as a project to keep a cyborg a boy. It became more than he expected.

Outrunning Fate by RocketJams | Art by Nanamin

Rating: Not Rated

Chuuya laid in the hospital bed, his consciousness slipping away slowly as he patiently awaited his demise. The doctors had assured him he wouldn't feel a thing but for some reason he couldn't shake this feeling his chest. An subtle pain which at this point had coaxed his stomach into a frenzy. Something was wrong but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

In Isolation He Thrived by Maddy | Art by Leo

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

All his life Dazai felt like a tool, a pawn that was just tossed aside when not needed. He was looked down on and felt useless, so slowly a fire ignited within him and turned him into a merciless person also well known as a "Soulless Demon".

He always believed he was destined to do wrong until one day when he finds Chuuya who proves him wrong.

S8 (TBA)

i step from here without you by fatimé | Art by eva

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

“I used Corruption because I trusted you,” Chuuya gasps out, and the words leave a hole the size of Yokohama in his chest. He punches Dazai right where that hole is and hopes it hurts him just as much as it hurts Chuuya.

Dazai smiles. He catches him when his vision finally goes dark and the next thing Chuuya wakes to is emptiness in his heart and a stack of neatly folded clothes.

In one universe, they’re partners-turned enemies, the former Double Black, the most fearsome duo in Port Mafia history. They’re Soukoku and they’re spiteful and they’re tangled up in one another more than they’d care to admit.

In another, they’re—

S10 (TBA)

In Blood we are Sealed by Chaosia | Art by RedZeverin

Dazai stared at his subordinate and the white tiger passed out on the ground, dismayed. It almost worked. This was the fourth person they've went to. There was one more person Dazai could take Atsushi to but he had enough reason to guess that it wouldn't work.

Dazai made a face.

There was one person Dazai knew who could do the job. He'd successfully commit suicide though before that gremlin ever found out he had such thoughts. The taste of metallic filled his mouth. He held in the urge to spit it out.

His ears rang as he imagined a shrieking voice yelling his name like it was the worst insult one could come up with and the mirage of fire that surrounded those blue eyes and foul mouth. Ugh, he was so annoying even in his imagination...and short.

Sticking a pinky into his ear to clear out the haunting voice, Dazai went about gathering up his apprentice and the tiger. Maybe fate would take pity on him and this next trip would solve their problem...

He could feel the cursed blood laughing at him all the way back to their hotel room.

Or a magical AU where Dazai inadvertently gets Atsushi cursed and they have to go to Chuuya, a powerful witch in his own right, to break it.

S14 (TBA)

Quatervois by TheWanderingTanteiThief | Art by King

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Quatervois (n.) a crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one's life

Chuuya didn't expect to see a man hanging from a tree.

Chuuya didn't expect to meet the man again.

Chuuya certainly didn't expect the man to be the crown prince of the kingdom.

...or cardverse au where Dazai is an asshole and Chuuya just wants to have a peaceful life. Is that too much to ask?

flaws and all by alli | Art by phryn

The transition Dazai and Chuuya routinely make between their heated arguing and completely seamless teamwork is being disrupted by their changing relationship. Which is an issue, because the two of them have been assigned to what could possibly be the most important undercover mission of their careers. Will they be able to strengthen their partnership for the better, or will it crack under the ever growing pressure?

-

As much as he craved that, as easy as it would be to do, it terrified him.

So, he didn’t.

Mirror Mirror In My Eye by MidnightLightHowlite | Art by cchibikko

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Dazai didn't have much hope for the next few years of Hogwarts, but would have liked to wait at least a few till Arahabaki noticed him.

Never such luck for the resident mummy.

School year was already shitty as it was, but now he has a fiery angry redhead demanding answers he's not ready to give

School year was already shitty as it was, but now he has a fiery angry redhead demanding answers he's not ready to give

Fuck.

thy kingdom come by chubsthehamster | Art by Stella Rasu

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

In a bid to save their continent from destruction, the kingdoms of Ada and the Port Mafia must put aside their years of tension to form an uneasy alliance. An act of holy matrimony unites Princes Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya, marking the beginning of an infamous partnership.

The affair is strictly political, and perhaps for the better. The two hate each other from the beginning.

should we never meet again by setosdarkness | Art by phryn

Rating: Mature

Sixteen women have been killed by a vicious serial killer haunting Yokohama’s streets.

Dazai has been chosen to become a part of the elite Bloody Valentine Task Force, even if he personally thinks that it’d be a lot more fun to stay at home with his boyfriend. Especially since it took years to convince Chuuya to finally move in with him.

It’s just a coincidence that Chuuya’s agreed to move in with him the moment he’s been chosen to become a part of the Task Force, right?

Resolving the Matter in Spirit by ASentientSlug | Art by Tomomorey

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Dazai's boring, everyday life ends in an accidental double suicide, but instead of facing the sweet release of endless sleep, Dazai finds himself in the Spirit World, where nothing is familiar and dangerous, soul-eating spirits lurk behind every corner. To get out, Dazai must confront the ghosts of his past and the ghosts of his present when one very familiar and yet very dangerous spirit takes Dazai under his wing.

If We Ever Meet Again by Luc | Art by Saiel

Rating: Mature

It all started with diamonds.

Chuuya thinks he would've been just as attracted to it if it wasn't for the equally shiny police badge in his pocket.

It all ends with a silver bullet.

For someone as talented in the dance of crime, Dazai has developed quite a bias about the jewels that would catch anybody's fancy.

Diamonds? They're overrated. Old. Boring.

Rubies? Sapphires?

Now those—

—those are worth getting caught for.

keep your windows open by Maristella | Art by Einjjjj

Rating: General Audiences

Usually, whenever Chuuya jumped, he flew.

This was not one of those times.

(Or, alternatively, where Chuuya breaks into Dazai's mansion as a thief, and comes out as a kidnapper. Even though he's also sort of a kid. And it's also not kidnapping.)

(Not when the victim bribed the kidnapper to take him.)

“You do know that the treasure doesn’t exist, right?”

“The what?”

“The treasure. You know, the one in the rumours. It doesn’t exist.”

“…are you screwing with me?”

“No?”

“I’m not an idiot. If there’s no treasure, why else are you here then?”

“Um…this is my house?”

(Also featuring: Chuuya and the different types of falling.)

half of my half by keptein | Art by manwe.russingon

Rating: Mature

No one understands why Dazai’s dæmon looks like a boy more often than not.

Book One: Fire by chuuzuke | Art by wandiwoo

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Avatar The Last Airbender/Korra AU: The world has changed. Technology can meet nearly every need, to the point where bending is considered a relic of the past, and with it, the Avatar. In fact, no one has seen the Avatar for nearly 100 years, and most people prefer to keep it that way.

Nakahara Chuuya, Prince of the Fire Nation, more than understands what it's like to be considered a relic. After the Fire nation moved to a parliamentary system, the title of Fire Lord is a largely ceremonial one, and Chuuya struggles under the burden of an office that restricts his every move without giving him any actual power to enact change.

When he runs away, intent on finding his own path, it seems like fate when he runs into Dazai Osamu, a mysterious man who claims he has a way to cure the unexplained illness Chuuya has suffered from his whole life.

peace lily by intimatopia | Art by phryn

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

They say you don’t truly know a person until you live with them. Dazai and Chuuya would argue that they know more about each other than one ought to know about anyone else.

Or: Mori forces 15 year old Dazai and Chuuya to share a flat because he doesn’t trust them to be on their own, and he thinks it’ll be a good way for them to bond.

Dazai and Chuuya think he's a sadist.

Two rambunctious teen boys, left to their own devices in a multi-million dollar penthouse. What could possibly go wrong?

of flowers and verses by lua & lanipalmer | Art by Yahuri

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

For years, Nakahara Chuuya has been pining over the ex-mafioso himself, Dazai Osamu. So what better to vent than through poetry? Combined with his (frankly, alarming) knowledge of flower languages, this is a story about Chuuya and his frustrations and desires.

Still Worth Fighting For by Maru | Art by ewe

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

"In which Chuuya never joins the port mafia, stops using his ability for fighting out of guilt, and later becomes a hacker.

His life had been relatively peaceful until one day, Dazai appears again at his doorstep asking for his help to find information on ‘The Rats.’"

The Necromancer by Ru | Art by etsuki_haru

Rating: Mature

If you venture into the slums of Suribachi City, you’ll find the witch Dazai Osamu, known as the Necromancer, and his barely tamed beast, Arahabaki. If you bring to him the bones of someone, he will bring that person back to life - in exchange for some of your lifespan. But bringing a soul back from the dead turn a heart twisted. Did you get your wish, or dig your own grave? These are the grim tales of a witch and a creature, trying to figure out their humanity, overseeing the consequences of taking death too lightly.

S34 (TBA)

fire and calamity by Jasmine | Art by Zen

Arahabaki has left its vessel, leaving Chuuya in a comatose state. Dazai and the rest of the ADA now have to track the god down and capture it for two reasons. One, because Chuuya knows the whereabouts of the Book. Two, because if they don't, they lose him forever. (ADA!Chuuya, established!SKK)

S38 (TBA)

fight our way to heaven by kiwi | Art by chicchii

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

The redhead had a fire in him that made Dazai want to poke and prod until he could see the limits. Chuuya was so alive and for the first time since Dazai could remember, he wanted to taste and feel that fire.

What he didn’t account for was that the decision to follow Chuuya would lead him to discovering memories he didn’t know he had and it would make them a target for all ability organizations in Yokohama.

Or the one where we have teen skk against the world.

Everything Comes Back To You by Catsby | Art by Mai

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

In the period after the war for the Book, the Port Mafia finds itself in need of a Boss. The logical choice for that position would be Chuuya - except Chuuya has gone missing.

Après Un Rêve by manwe.russingon | Art by Sebby

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

"I wandered long, methought, alone

to the deep shadow where the dead dwell,

but ever a voice that I knew well,

like bells, like viols, like harps, like birds,

like music moving without words,

called me, called me through the night,

enchanted drew me back to the light!"

Nakahara Chuuya, the elven lord commander of the kingsguard of kingdom of Mirkwood, singing in the woods. With a sudden intervention from Dazai Osamu, a mysterious being that was caught in between his tunes, they became best friends afterwards. Or perhaps it is more than that?

Time to time, one story comes with another. The truth finally unveils, and the clock is ticking faster. What exactly is Dazai? Why does he act so familiarly to Chuuya? And perhaps the biggest question we need the answer is: What makes them always connected, even for thousands of years?

S42 by chuuzuke | Art by willofjokerXIX

Lost All Judgement by todxrxki | Art by Yahuri

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

“Uh, sorry, but unfortunately I already have a date to the dance.”

“Oh, really?” Tachihara says, sounding disappointed. He pauses for a second, clearly processing what Chuuya’s just told him, and then says, “Who is it?”

Chuuya certainly hadn’t budgeted for this.

Panicking, he tries to think of the people that he knows that are single, and before he knows it, the first name that comes to mind is slipping out of his mouth. “With Dazai.” / After a momentary lapse in judgment, high school student Chuuya ends up having to pretend to date his enemy Dazai to get Tachihara off of his back - and quickly finds it's nowhere as bad as he'd imagined.

Of Boxers and Bachelors by writingfromtheshadows | Art (1 & 2 & 3) by Angella

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

When Dazai Osamu gets cut off from the family's coffers in an attempt to regulate his behavior, he decides to find a way around his father's ultimatum. Faking an engagement with an underground boxer sounds like the perfect scandal...

Crimson Memoirs by Luneath & Abel | Art by lefterstein

Rating: Mature

By the power of great ancient magic, supernatural beings are aptly hidden just behind the eyelids of humans. Vampires, witches, weres, faeries – all of them live and exist out of the fairy tales books.

Humans' eyes are just shielded into not comprehending their true nature, their magic, and their trickery. To protect them, the Gods say. But Dazai has always known that he’s no ordinary human. From the gift of seeing beyond the magic veil to the peculiar dreams to the aching, hollow feeling hugging his chest in a tight embrace – he knows he’s different.

What Dazai doesn’t know is that this isn’t the start of his story and the stranger with glowing blue eyes that have always been the center of his recurring dreams. What Dazai doesn’t know is that this is not exactly his first life. Dazai doesn't know a lot of things. But with time, he will come to know that he doesn't mind dying the second time for Chuuya.

entanglement by Shinkirou | Art by Zevy

Rating: Mature

Not everyone has a destined partner. Theoretically, even Dazai and Chuuya aren't supposed to. Are being programmed not to, even.

But whether they're "meant" to be together or not is irrelevant. Dazai wants Chuuya to be his, and so Chuuya will be his.

... If only it were actually that simple.

pointless by Lua | Art by Behax

Rating: Explicit

It was an annoyance after everything that happened, and yet, Chuuya found himself on the doorsteps of a man that he had more than enough reasons to kill. He could come up with excuses, but he was not in the habit of lying to himself. At times, Chuuya would describe their relationship as an addiction he couldn't get rid of. This was ridiculous. Dazai was now a traitor and a coward; what did that make of Chuuya himself to know where to find him and keep that a secret?

Latent Identities by RocketJams | Art by Seiran

Rating: Explicit

He could deny it however many times he wanted to, but Dazai could see through it every time. The lies over his lips, the false smiles and misleading words. He could fool anyone else into believing he was who he said he was. Though whenever he smiled, Dazai could feel it. Something was wrong, he wasn't Chuuya.

N6 (TBA)

Before I Fall by hellosweetie17 | Art by Nanamin

Rating: Explicit

Chuuya’s oblivious to the circumstances surrounding their fragile world; Dazai’s made sure of it.

Mighty Long Fall by quinnlocke | Art by Xoinks

Rating: Mature

When Dazai betrays the ADA for the Port Mafia, he’s greeted as the prodigal son. That doesn’t mean he’s trusted, however, and now that he’s betrayed the Port Mafia and ADA alike, he has far more enemies than friends. As Dazai works to survive the heart of the viper’s nest, it quickly becomes clear that Chuuya will save him - or be the reason he fails.

Chuuya, meanwhile, knows Dazai too well to trust that his cards are on the table. But as he finds himself at Dazai’s mercy, and caught between loyalties, he realizes there’s no other option but to master the god that lives beneath his skin and hope he survives long enough to protect the organization to whom he’s sworn his life.

But first they both must realize that a mighty long fall awaits.

moonshine voyage by setosdarkness | Art by Behax

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Dazai's plan to stop Fyodor involves sacrificing his life. He should have known that even the best-made plans are useless when there’s someone like Chuuya out there, who just won’t stop saving him.

A journey of growing and growing old together.

[or: chuuya saves dazai's life by linking their souls & lifespans together]

Lifeline by Abel | Art (1 & 2 & 3) by phryn

Rating: Explicit

Nakahara Chuuya is a normal kid. He has two parents who loves him very much even though he's not really their son. He's a good student even though he's not on top. He's popular and has a lot of friends. Everything in his life is fine-- perfectly fine.

Until he bumps into another kid his age, bandages wrapped all over him. Dazai Osamu-- he said his name was, with a tone of amusement and yet tinged with longing.

Little did he know, that fated meeting will change his life forever.

Can’t Be Tamed by stargazerlilith | Art by Abel

Rating: Explicit

The boss of the Port Mafia is merciless against those who oppose him.

Well he was, until he resigned himself to the fate of the notorious dating app known as Tinder.

We hope you enjoy the masterpieces made by our talented participants! See you again next year!

[drsilverfish]

Old Timey SPN - A Fresh (Queer) Look at 4x06 Yellow Fever

Dean in Yellow Fever (comedic terror overlays heart-stopping anxiety).

Whilst we’re on S14 mid-season hiatus, I wanted to write this meta, because sometimes, when writing or reading about the queer subtext in 2018/19 SPN it’s perhaps too easy to forget why queer subtext came into being in the first place, not just as codes in literature, film and television, but as codes in the everyday lives of LGBTQ people. Such codes were (and still are in many places) built around being able to safely signal to, and identify, one another, without being outed more generally, therefore being at risk of often life-threatening violence, backlash, repression etc. 

The world Sam and Dean grew up in, on the road in dive motels and truck-stops, working cases in the “boondocks”, on the fringes of a seriously macho hunter culture, with an ex-marine and Vietnam Vet for a father? A father who sometimes drank too much, and who (in subtext) was, most likely, sometimes physically violent towards his eldest son? A world where Dean got him and Sam fed by stealing food when their Dad forgot to leave them enough? A world where, when they were a bit older, they got by on hustling pool and credit card fraud and (Jensen’s headcanon, but also see below) Dean probably turned tricks on occasion too? That was not a world where you could be “out” safely, by any stretch of the imagination. Of course that doesn’t mean it was a world where sex between men didn’t exist. But it was far, far more likely to be a world populated by MSM (men who have sex with men, but who do not identify as gay or bisexual) than by anyone sporting an “out” LGBTQ identity of any kind. 

It’s not until ten years later, in 2016, in 11x19 The Chitters, that we meet any clearly identified LGBTQ male hunters, and when we do (Jesse and Cesar) we learn that Jesse’s childhood, in small-town Colorado, was full of fear and the need (which his older brother warned him about) to stay in the closet for his own safety.

SPN really hints at all that, early on, in the scene from 1x08 Bugs when Dean comes out of a pool hall with a wad of cash in his hand, and Sam ribs him about hustling pool and Dean says it’s “fun and easy” and there’s a “Billiards” sign flashing behind him which is partially broken, so instead it reads “Billiar” (Bi-liar = bisexual liar) hinting (in subtext) that maybe, what Dean was hustling wasn’t just pool, but dudes:

Original gif-set here: http://canonspngifs.tumblr.com/post/182845022861 

So, content warning for this piece of meta - under the cut I discuss “queer-bashing” and link to an upsetting (but important) real-world piece of reporting in Vanity Fair from the 1990s on a series of brutal homophobic and often ultimately murderous incidents in Texas, as an example of the kind of climate Dean and Sam would have been aware of, growing up.

If you’re feeling OK to follow this thread through, the first thing you should do, is read this earlier, great piece of collaborative meta on Yellow Fever and its Dean/ Ash subtext by @f-ckyeahfutbol and @sandraugiga  and @aslightsgoflashing (the last blog now deleted):

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/147912926731/aslightsgoflashing-f-ckyeahfutbol 

I want to write something adjacent to that meta, by talking about how both Dean’s heightened anxiety (brought on, ostensibly, by the “ghost sickness” in the episode) and the form of violence meted out to Luther/ the ghost in Yellow Fever, can be read as, subtextually, signalling towards Dean’s “gay panic” and (the extremely understandable cause of said panic) - homophobic violence. 

More under the cut...

Firstly, let’s understand something of the history of violence towards gay/ bisexual men, particularly in the small town and rural United States where SPN is set. SPN began screening in 2005. Just a decade earlier, Vanity Fair ran this important piece of investigative journalism on a series of deadly and violent “queer-bashing” incidents in Texas carried out mostly by teenage boys, who felt supported by their churches and communities in carrying out these attacks (many of them resulting in murder):

https://www.vanityfair.com/news/1995/02/texas-murder-199502 

Sam and Dean are aware, in the SPN story-world, of this kind of community-supported homophobic violence. Remember the out gay teacher who was murdered by a homophobic preacher’s wife controlling a Reaper in 1x12 Faith? Meta on that here: 

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/115161057824/bisexual-in-the-subtext-since-s1 

The SPN story-world also established, early on (see below 2x11 Playthings) that Dean is anxious about being perceived as queer, in a way that Sam is not: 

SAM: “They probably think you’re over-compensating”

DEAN: .................................

Original gif here: http://nimbus2ooo.tumblr.com/post/5585782984 

Dean has been queer-coded as bisexual since S1, and, as this Dean/ Ash meta master-post makes clear, specifically, in the early seasons, in relation to Jo Harvelle and Ash, whom he meets at the same time:

https://sandraugiga.tumblr.com/post/124850209617/a-detailed-look-into-dean-and-ash-masterpost 

Ash, of course, dies in 2x21 All Hell Breaks Loose, which is why the Yellow Fever @f-ckyeahfutbol  and @sandraugiga meta linked to, above the cut, discusses mourning and the Dean/Ash subtext as one of the threads running through the episode. As “ghost-sickness” in some Native American cultures, is a form of mourning, that reading is definitely relevant:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_sickness . 

Bearing that in mind, I’m going to leave Dean/ Ash to one side, and talk specifically about reading the “ghost-sickness” in Yellow Fever as closted “gay panic”.

The episode opens with Dean, terrified, running down a dark street at night. 

On one level, we later understand, his terror is all about what he experienced in Hell and his fear of returning there. He is being chased by a little dog, which, it is eventually revealed, he is hallucinating is a Hell-hound.  

However, on another level, we can also read this as Dean being chased by his “Gay Thoughts TM”. The little dog is wearing a pink bow. Pink is often used in symbolic visual TV/ cinema code for “gay” a) because it is understood as a “feminine” colour (and there is that old stereotypical association of gayness with femininity) and b) because the colour was reclaimed and used with pride by the LGBT community itself, particularly in the 1970s and ‘80s, from the pink triangle that homosexuals were forced to wear as an identifying mark in the Nazi concentration camps. 

After this opener (also strongly played for comedic effect, so the queer reading is definitely in the closet) we flash to 43 hours earlier, and the first vic, Frank O’Brien, on the autopsy table. Posing as FBI agents, the Winchesters show up to investigate. They have taken the aliases Joe Perry and Steve Tyler (from Aerosmith). Tyler has been quite open about having had sex with men as well as women. 

Dean notices (and we should note it’s Dean, not Sam) that there is a mark on Frank’s ring finger where a wedding ring should be, but it’s missing. Then the coroner hands Dean Frank’s heart. 

A dude with a wedding ring missing and then his heart is passed to Dean? That looks like symbolism for queer-on-the-side infidelity to me.

We learn all the other vics were also men, and they all died of heart failure (aka, in subtext, we are talking about queer closeted men). 

We also learn that Frank’s wife Jessie committed suicide many years ago, and that Frank was a bully in school, but he “got better” after his wife died. Both of these factoids can be read as subtextual signals pointing towards Frank’s queerness (possibly his self-loathing turned outwards and his unhappiness in his marriage). 

Then we meet the germaphobe (a mirror for Dean) Sheriff in town.  The Sheriff is really cut up about Frank’s death, and seems to be hiding something.

SHERIFF BRITTON: "Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Game-cocks.” 

(Dean snickers) 

SHERIFF BRITTON: “That's our softball team's name. They're majestic animals.”

In other words, Dean heard the word “Game-cocks” and his mind immediately went to “fuck buddies,” which says a lot about Dean, but also Dean’s gaydar may have been on-point. 

Were the Sheriff and Frank, in fact, (closeted) lovers? 

Textually, we find out the Sheriff knew Frank had murdered someone, and covered for him. Subtextually....?

The Sheriff, we realise later, like Dean, has also been “infected” and is beginning to suffer from the ghost sickness. This “infection” as a metaphor for queerness might seem as if it is alluding to HIV/AIDS, but, if we read the queer subtext of the ghost sickness in Yellow Fever as about closeted “gay panic” in the kind of environment where it’s not safe to be out, then this isn’t a “gay/ bi men are infectious” homophobic metaphor, it’s more about closeted men’s fear, in a homophobic environment, that they are somehow “infected” by queerness and will not be able to keep it secret. 

And how are the men who have died, “infected”? It seems to be (metaphorically) “through the heart”, as Dean was shown literally holding Frank’s heart, and the Sheriff was suffering from grief-of-the-heart at Frank’s death.  

As soon as Dean is drunk, and therefore disinhibited, the element he is is repressing emerges, and Dean flirts with the Sheriff’s cute young assistant. And let’s side-eye the Dean-mirror Sheriff’s choice of deputy eye-candy here. The deputy is framed by a painting of stallions in the Sheriff’s office. Stallions, like game-cocks, being a symbol of hyper-masculine virility - the Sheriff’s choices being both a cover for, and a coded signal of, homoeroticism.  

 And here’s that much giffed flirting scene:

(Couldn’t find the gif credit for this one)

At Frank’s neighbour’s house, Dean (not Sam) gets crawled over by a huge yellow-white python (read - penis metaphor) and Dean (infected by the ghost-sickness, aka “gay panic”) freaks out. As frequently throughout the episode, this subtextual meaning is covered by comedic effect. 

(Couldn’t find the gif credit for this one either - sorry - older gifs tend to appear on platforms like “giphy” that strips out the OP)

Finally, the boys find out that a dude named Luther is the ghostly source of the “ghost-sickness”. Luther, who had learning disabilities, was murdered by Frank, who ostensibly (and wrongly) believed Luther murdered Frank’s wife, Jessie (who had been kind to Luther, and who, Luther’s brother tells the Winchesters, he had a “crush” on).

Is that the actual story, however? That’s the heterosexual, surface-available textual story. 

But subtextually? The Winchesters find Frank’s wedding ring in the lumber yard which the ghost of Luther is haunting. What if that disused “lumber yard” was a known cruising ground, and Frank had had sex with men there (symbolised by the loss of his wedding ring) perhaps with Luther himself, or with the Sheriff (and Luther witnessed it) then he felt guilty about it (maybe because Jessie found out about his habit of having closeted sex with men on the side and that contributed to her suicide)? And so, Frank went after Luther.

Why this subtextual reading? 

Let’s look at the way Frank killed Luther. He wrapped a chain around his neck and “road-hauled” him to death behind his truck.

Have you heard of a “fag-drag”? Unfortunately, I don’t mean drag performance, but the “queer-bashing” version. You may have heard of a “fag-drag” used in this sense because of this Southpark clip (typically faux-ironic in tone) in which Mr. Garrison yells, “Come on everybody, let’s get us some queers, and some trucks, and have us a good old fashioned fag drag.” Mr. Garrison was depicted as a closted gay man who hid his homosexuality by making homophobic statements in the first three seasons of Southpark (he eventually came out as trans).

Or, you may have heard of the “fag-drag” (a particular form of homophobic violence) thanks to Brokeback Mountain. It was such a (murderous) “queer bashing” that young Ennis was forced to witness (the aftermath of) by his father -  in which an old gay rancher had been roped to the back of a truck and dragged, “...until his dick came off,” and he died.  

Sorry for the graphic imagery - none of this is OK and I am using “fag-drag” in quote marks throughout, because it’s obviously a violently homophobic term in and of itself. 

So, in subtext, we can read Luther as having been “fag-dragged” to death by a, self-hating, closeted Frank. 

As Dean gets pulled further and further into the hallucinations that accompany the ghost sickness, Sam calls Bobby for help. 

Bobby realises that the ghost responsible for the “ghost-sickness” is a Buruburu, a ghost born of a person’s fear after dying in a terrifying way. Bobby tells Sam a salt-and-burn won’t work - they have to scare the ghost to death. I mean, logically, that makes no sense, right? A ghost born of terror would surely feed on terror?

But, subtextually, it does make sense, because Sam and Bobby love Dean dearly, but they both, at this stage in the SPN narrative, do not fully understand just how much Dean’s surface macho bravado is a performance, covering much that he hides from them (including his queerness).  

So, although they both express distress about it, Bobby and Sam recreate Luther’s original death (in subtext, his homophobic “fag drag”) by wrapping an iron chain round ghost-Luther’s neck and hauling him over the ground, attached to Baby.

Shots of ghost-Luther’s death - Sam calls it a “truck haul” (in subtext, a ”fag-drag”):

are intercut with shots of Dean, in the motel room hallucinating the creepy little girl version of Lilith. He asks her, “Why me? Why’d I get infected?” She tells him, “Silly goose, you know why - listen to your heart.” In subtext - that’s Dean’s queer heart (and see my meta linked above on Dean’s queer heart in 1x12 Faith). 

As Luther’s ghost gets “fag-dragged” by Dean’s soul (Baby) Dean’s heart starts to give out (again, the shots of the two events are intercut). In our queer subtext reading, we can understand this as a metaphor for the trauma Dean’s own closeted self (his “gay panic”) is inflicting on his queer heart: 

Once Luther’s ghost has been destroyed, the ghost sickness leaves Dean.

Or (metaphorically speaking) does it?

The final scene between Dean, Sam and Bobby is really heartbreaking, in a subtextual sense. Because Bobby and Sam tease Dean about how anxious he was under the spell of the ghost sickness, and he pushes back, full once again of his performance bravado:

BOBBY: “You sure, Dean? 'Cause this line of work can get awful scary.”

DEAN: “I'm fine. You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything.”

BOBBY: “Awwww, he's adorable. I got to get out of here. You boys drive safe.”

So, yes, the more textual layers of the narrative tell us that Dean got infected by the ghost sickness not because, as Sam says in the episode, Dean is a “dick” but because Dean’s terror of being dragged back to Hell (and to the things we eventually find out he did there) made him susceptible to fear-infection. 

The more textual layers tell us, that the things Dean keeps from Sam in their talk at the hood of the Impala at the end of the episode, are his hallucinations of Hell-hounds, of Lilith, and of Sam himself with yellow eyes.

But in the queer subtext (should we choose to adopt this reading)? 

Dean’s “gay panic”, Dean’s fear of homophobic, or homophobic but homo-erotically charged, violence (like that which was visited on Luther by Frank) was what attracted the ghost-sickness to him (and not to Sam) just as it was attracted to the town’s other (closeted) men, like the Sheriff, who, guiltily (and in fear) nevertheless cruised for sex in the abandoned lumber yard, or took part in nights away with their fellow “Game-cocks”. 

And so, in this subtextual reading, one of the things Dean is choosing to hide from Sam, is his queerness.

This particular reading of Yellow Fever makes additional sense once we get to 4x16 On the Head of a Pin and discover that Dean’s time in Hell included a, hideous and twisted, but nevertheless homoerotic, charge between himself and his torturer and “mentor” in Hell, the demon Alastair. That’s an additional trauma, an additional psychic wound, for Dean’s queer heart to bear.

Finally, we should also note, that an element that significantly supports this queer reading is the fact that Yellow Fever is set in the fictional town of Rock Ridge, Colorado. That is also the setting for the spoof Western Blazing Saddles  (1974). That movie contains the famous “French mistake” sequence (which later gave Edlund the title and concept for 6x15 The French Mistake).

This sequence is where the movie finally breaks the fourth wall (revealing itself to be artifice) and the Western set of Blazing Saddles breaks through into a cabaret chorus show, where an all male troupe are performing a top and tails number called “The French Mistake” (an allusion to men having sex with men). They are called “faggots” and “sissy marys” by the cowboys, but they also “queer” themselves by using feminine pronouns; “Come on girls!” The cowboys and the chorus dancers get involved in a free-for-all punch-up, but we also see some of them making friends with one another, emerging from the melee with their arms around each other. 

This is, of course, a meta-commentary on the queer subtext of the Western genre (and the closeted queerness of classic Hollywood itself). So, it’s a pretty interesting setting to have chosen for Yellow Fever (as it points, by allusion, to the queer subtext of Supernatural i.e. it’s a big sign, for those chosing to follow the trail, that looking out for queer subtext in Yellow Fever might bear narrative fruit). Here is the “French Mistake” clip from Blazing Saddles:

The book Intersecting Film, Music and Queerness by Jack Curtis Dubowsky (Palgrave, 2016) contains a chapter specifically devoted to reading the queerness in Blazing Saddles.

My own reading of Yellow Fever has been brought to you by me, courtesy of Andrew Dabb and Daniel Loflin, who wrote the episode, inspired by some of the questions left hanging in @f-ckyeahfutbol. and @sandraugiga ‘s meta on the episode.

As ever, here is my usual disclaimer -  Dean’s bisexuality and his attraction to men continue to be told in the SPN subtext (14 years and counting now). My queer readings of Supernatural do not “promise” that this element of the narrative will emerge into undeniable main-text for the general audience.

However, subtext IS a part of narrative.