#the boiling rock part 1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drgnflyteabox · 2 months ago

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red ochre [1]

series masterlist part one -> minium || part two -> woad and weld

pairing: viking goap x fem! nun reader summary: you become the unlikely treasure of two vikings who raid your convent looking for gold w.c: 4.3k tags/warnings: religious themes (DLDR), minor suicidal ideation, mention of viking raids (slavery, violence, death), kidnapping, threats, dubcon bathing + touching, mean simon (ish), established goap, reader is underfed and beaten in the convent (corporal punishment), difficult travel, some food description

Near the coast the wind scratches at you when it blows, full of sand and salt.

Once, you'd imagined this as your calling; committed to asceticism, married to God, serving under the abbess. Enclosed, you find yourself stifled more than devoted, pressing your face to the stone barrier that blocks the convent from the outside world.

Isolation, never being quite full, the slow and steady stripping of your identity. This is your life - hollowed out, like meat sucked from a crab, cracked open and used and hollow.

You couldn't have predicted Christ to be such an inconsiderate husband.

"Girl!" the voice is the crack of a whip in empty air. You don't jump, but the hair on your body raises, the welts on your thighs sting.

"Yes, mother?" you put your chin down to your chest, turning, pressing your back to the wall. Demure, submissive, utterly devoid of fight. And still, her grip finds you hard as iron and rough as the rock you'd just been touching, pulling you hard enough to make your shoulder ache back toward the heavy wood doors of the dormitory.

"You shirk your duties again, child? Leave your sisters to pick up your slack?" you didn't mean to, truly. It's only that you ache so deeply you're afraid you might never recover from the feeling.

"Please forgive me, mother, I lost track of time," you murmur. Your uniform is damp from the spray outside, and you relish in the scent and feel of it. Freedom, that's what it is. "Allow me to make up for-"

"Hush!" spit touches your cheek. You don't wipe it away. "You'll finish the tapestry tonight. No matter how long it takes you."

Desperately, you wish for God to strike you down. If you're there, father. You close your eyes. Please, please kill me now.

He doesn't listen, and the abbess pushes you to supper.

Dark bread, boiled turnips, fish and wine. Average, filling, but you'd hoped for more of the crumbly white cheese from yesterdays supper.

You know not to complain. And truly, you are grateful. With your family, it had been gruel upon gruel, often bear, and rarely flavour. Salt kisses your tongue now, and the wine makes your sore muscles relax.

The monks have it harder; you'd visited them once as a girl with your father to pray, but there was still labour to be done here. Cooking was often your job, as was doing the washing and the tilling for the vegetable garden.

Today sister Colette had assigned you weaving so that you wouldn't be out of practice. The muscles in your back and fingers ached from it already, and dread made your stomach sour to the food you ate at the thought of more work.

Mealtimes were quiet, as required. The other women eat mousily, looking down at their plates and pulling their food apart into small little bites, trying to make it last. Obedience, poverty. How silly it was now that you'd dreamed of this.

"Sister?" a whisper, next to you. Margaret was almost a friend, too pious to really confide in but so kind it was impossible to ignore her. "What were you doing?"

"I felt compelled," you shrug, lips oily from the fish. "I felt confined."

"Oh sister," Margaret pushes her bottom lip out, dark eyebrows pulling up. "You should never feel confined here."

You knew, and yet you did. It was like living in a stone coffin. All the work felt pointless since your heart had strayed from God. Even now, touching Margaret's elbow to comfort her in her worry for you, you're sick to death of even clearing plates.

There was one secret they hadn't found. None of the sisters, not even the abbess, had found your secret booklet.

Paper was more valuable than gold since the church needed so much to copy and produce texts. The writing room at the very top of the convent, where you were so seldomly asked, was full of it and guarded by lock and key.

Over months, you'd scrounged, stealing enough to make a booklet. In it, you felt sustained. Free. Titillated, sometimes, when your hand found its way beneath your soft worn blanket under your shift and you drew indecent drawings of men coming to save you. Of the farmboys from your village.

They were nothing like real art, not so detailed, but they lit inside you a spark of life. Without them, you'd be snuffed out.

Candles line the hallway toward the workroom, where you'll likely spend the rest of the night. It's near the very entrance of the convent, so that visitors may see the sisters hard at work and find reason to donate.

Really, it's a temptation. Those massive doors, ready to open and let you free.

But what could you do, really? If God were a kind man and Christ a good husband, they'd turn you into a horse so that you might run, might feel your hooves beating the earth and the coarse air on your skin.

Regrettably human, you sit to work on the tapestry. Curse the abbess and let the holy father hear your thoughts. This is worse than hell, you think. Your fingers cramp and the chair is hard, flat wood. It's made to be uncomfortable on purpose, everything is. After you finish you only have a thin mattress to look forward to, even thoughts of drawing hunky carpenters doesn't draw you out of the misery that is embroidery in the dark.

Is this string strong enough to hold you, should you hang yourself? You're being dramatic, but you feel you've earned the right.

Footsteps walk down the hall towards you. They're sure, heavy. Maybe sister Catharine, tall and splendid, is coming to release you from torment?

"Hello," you say jovially. Please be sister Catharine.

"Look what we've got here, Ghost," it's a male voice. You freeze. The accent is unfamiliar. Had you missed the visit of a monk, an abbot, a priest? "Darlin' little lass, all by herself."

Shivers overtake you. It hurts to straighten from your hunched position, but you have to do it to see properly.

You come face to face with a skull, towering over you from the doorway.

A scream builds, filling your chest, hanging off the tip of your tongue.

Stopped only by the glint of candlelight against a blade, and the quickness of the another man reaching you.

You shake, all sound stuck in your throat, feeling arms as strong as petrified wood circle your arms and pull you toward the door. The pressure, the scrape of rock against your feet, it's unreal and barely registered against the terror that builds when you look to your left and see the skull, sewn into cloth, with the soft clank of bones hanging from his waist.

His eyes find yours, dead and mellow in the eyesockets, piercing through you. Blood rushes through your ears, deafening you, until you leave the room and reality sets in.

Devils, come to sack the convent.

Who will likely kill you and all your sisters. Even the abbess, with her punishment cane and severe face, doesn't deserve that.

You shriek, finding your voice, twisting like a cat in a bag. Their hands tighten against you, growling orders at you to be still, girl.

It's then that you hear the cries, the crashes. Sounds of chaos, a cacophony of harsh voices and the search of the convent. Some of the women weep, some pray, you scream.

"Hey!" Skull snaps, shaking you hard. "Behave and we won't kill you." You comprehend that, but the animal urge to struggle for your life still has a grip on you.

The other man twists towards you, lips snarling. "Ye want to die, then? I'm not opposed to slitting ye open throat to cunt, if that's what ye prefer."

You still, sag, mouth turning downwards in misery. Sweat sticks to your skin, from fear and exertion.

"Good girl," Skull says.

The nuns have been crowded back into the dining room, cowed and cowering, trembling lambs against the storm of awful armoured men ravaging the sanctity of the space.

Some have already found gold, crosses and busts of saints and reliquaries. The abbess weeps to see the bust of Mother Mary, thrown so roughly to the ground that baby Jesus snaps off.

You watch it all happening, eyes wide, shaking despite yourself. Adrenaline makes your legs cramp in their position, curled, back to back with another sister.

"Cap," a younger man runs up, hands full with an ornate chest. "What'cha think of this one?"

"Lookit this one," the man from earlier is giddy, slapping the young one on the back. He holds St Augustine, gilded in gold and jewels. "Not too shabby, eh, Gaz?"

"Not too shabby at all," Gaz grins back at him, turning towards the third man.

"Good job, boys," he says. He's mustached, tall, steadier and calmer than the rest. A leader, clearly.

It smells of smoke, or blood, but you can't see anyone bleeding.

Maybe that's their natural scent, violence clinging to them cloying like they'd bathed in it before coming.

"Soap," Gaz calls. He's run through the library, tossing shelves to the ground, taking one or two books. Walked through the dormitories, throwing open the chests at the ends of each bed. "Take a look at this one!"

A little booklet. Your booklet, tiny in the hand of the devil.

Anxiety crawls up your spine. There's no way they'd know it was yours, but you're still afraid of another kind of raiding, should they discover your sin.

The men laugh, looking with hungry eyes, glinting, mouths stretched and wet.

Look at the ground, be quiet, be still. You want to survive, you want to draw again and feel the air against your skin. You're scared of these men, huge and muscled as they are.

They wear furs, leather, clinking chainmail, wrapped shoes. Weapons hang by their sides and are clutched firmly in hands, though no nuns nor abbesses have been harmed.

Yet.

"Gold ain't the only treasure, eh?" Soap looks down at you while others use pillowcases for bags, stuffing their bounty inside with loud clangs.

His foot nudges your thigh, and you shift away as much as possible, still looking away, still scared.

Skull comes back. Soap calls him over and calls him Ghost, so you switch the name in your head.

Ghost is big, but he glides through the air.

"See that, Ghost?" Soap nudges him, the way he nudged you. Eyes crazed.

"Mm," Ghost grunts. He hasn't looted, not like the others. Just walked through the halls and gathered one or two other stray nuns shuddering in various corners. "You want 'er?"

You blanch, breath leaving you.

"Can we?" He looks back at you and leans down, thick fingers finding your chin, tilting your face up. "Pretty little hen, so scared, aren't ye?"

"Take 'er."

With Ghosts permission, Soap moves his fingers from your face to the meat of your arms, dragging you up, using your stupor to help him.

"Dinnae worry, hen, we'll take good care of ye," it's not reassuring. You think you feel your knees hitting each other from the force of your shaking. "Awe, don't cry."

Two rivers have sprouted form your eyes, tracking searing hot salt down your cheeks, hands twisting in your habit.

The men regroup. You were right about the mustached man being a leader, and learn his name is Price. He commands them like any armyman you've ever seen, clearly holds a lot of authority.

You're the only nun that's a part of the spoils.

The only one tied with coarse rope around the wrists, chafing, tossed between Soap and Gaz through the convent until you reach those big wooden doors.

Those doors you'd dreamed about opening, those doors that you dread opening now.

"Keep walking," Gaz says. He's mellower than the others, but you'd be a fool to underestimate him.

Or ask him for help.

Reality hasn't set. You're in purgatory, stumbling across the wet grass in just wool socks, growing wetter by the minute from mist and dew. The men hoot and cheer and clank their gold, throwing fists and weapons in the air.

A bloodless victory, unless they change their mind and decide to kill you.

Soap jumps, accidentally pulling you forward in a jerk that brings you to your knees. The tears come back, and the pebbles nearing the beach digging into your knees makes you sob.

"Careful!" Ghost barks. Behind you, he reaches under your armpits and helps you up. His hands are still rough, but he lets go of you quickly to yank the rope out of Soaps hands. It doesn't help that it's still near-pitch outside, not yet morning, hard to see.

"Ach," he rubs a hand behind his head, watching you cry and walk like a deadwoman. "Got a little over-excited, darlin. Forgive me."

"I'll be better to ye, don't worry," he falls in beside you, using a knuckle to brush away your tears.

When you reach the beach, you see a few boats, supplies, but that's all. No camp, nowhere to sleep. Did they jump straight from the boats, marching up the hill to the convent to pillage?

God, they're so big. Warriors. Why just you?

"Right," Price calls them to attention. You're stuck next to Ghost, sniffling, shivering a little, praying mentally for the first time in a long time. Dear God, please help me, please strike these men dead and let me run back up the hill.

You miss what Price says, whispering under your breath with your eyes closed and palms together until Ghost puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes you forward again.

"Walk, then get on the boat," his voice is a growl.

"Dinnae worry," Soap chips in. "We brought meat."

They did - dried fish hangs like your laundry across each boats. The gold is loaded alongside you, stuffed to one side, and you're left trying to avoid the men tossing things in your direction.

Ghost ties your wrists to a wooden loop on the side of the boat.

It was built for this. For prisoners, slaves, taken in conquest.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Price shouts, the men answer. It's loud, a cacophony of voices and waves and the scrape of the boat against the sand.

You're going, going, gone. Floating. Adrift. Tied to the side of a viking ship with nothing but your thick, woolen habit and woolen socks. At least they provide some warmth, the air colder over the water.

Eyes look you up and down, not just from the two that took you. Gaz smiles to himself and punches Soap in the thigh, then they play wrestle.

You wonder what will happen to you- are you being taken as a slave? A prize?

The positive side to your time spend as a nun is that you know how to work, and you know that if something awful happens, you could find a way to meet God early and put yourself down.

Blood rushes in your ears again.

You register from somewhere outside of yourself that you're panicking again, caught wanting to run and having nowhere to do it. Tied down.

A hand touches your nape, and you turn with wild eyes and desperation all over your face to Ghost.

"Take a breath," he says, low enough that only you hear it, firm and commanding. "In and out, girl. Do it."

You do, if only to save yourself passing out. In and out, in and out, you breathe.

"That's it," he leans down, brown eyes finding yours. The skull is bleached yellow, old, but you try to ignore it. "You're alright."

"No I'm not," you shock the both of you by speaking, voice high and wavering. "I'm not, you're going to kill me or worse-"

"You think we'd take you just to kill you?"

"You're a heathen, aren't you?" you gasp again, wiping your face on the fabric of your sleeves. "Sister Catharine says heathens sacrifice virgins. Please don't."

He startles you by laughing, a ragged thing ripped from his chest.

"Not gonna sacrifice you, lamb," his hand squeeze your nape, his thumb rubbing the edge of your jaw where he can reach. "Gonna be a long journey, you'd better settle now."

It's hell. You were mistaken before, and you'd do anything now to go back to embroidery. You'd let the abbess cane you bloody, you'd kneel and pray with the passion of Christ himself if it meant you could come off the boat.

The boat, the men. The godforsaken fish, too-salty, not much better than the biscuits Soap insists on feeding you by hand.

"Your hands are tied, pretty lamb, how are ye gonna feed yourself?" He breaks it up, wiping crumbs from your cheeks.

You hope Ghost will step in, but he doesn't. He watches, a specter, still wearing that mask on his face. You wonder if it's because of you, or if he's just like that. Private, hidden. Intimidating.

"Open wide," Soap seems fond of holding your face, squishing your cheeks and puckering your lips. He's extra zealous since catching a sea-bird, keen on making you taste it.

The thought makes your stomach roil, despite being sick of the fish and biscuits. You turn your face, trying to avoid him, whimpering when he squeezes a little too hard.

"Come on, hen," he leans closer. "Fresh meat is good, no?"

"Johnny", Ghost saves you again, finally. Pulls on Johnny's shirt until he's sitting back on his heels. "Let her be."

"Awe, just wanna giv'er my catch, Si," if a heathenish, kidnapping devil could whine and pout like a child, it would look like this.

Horrific, is what it is. You tuck your face into your elbow and close your eyes.

You've been doing that most of the journey, closing your eyes and breathing deeply like Ghost taught you. Or Simon, what you've heard Johnny calling him.

Dread sneaks in every once in a while, wakes you up from fitful sleeps or seizes your ability to speak. Nobody else has spoken to you, not even Gaz who keeps glancing at you. Nobody but Simon and Johnny.

"Here," Simon says. You look up.

In his hand, an apple. Your eyes go wide, prickling, and you look even further up to him.

His eyes reveal nothing. Brown, flat.

"For me?" you ask.

"You see me offering it to anyone else?" from the corner of your eye, Soap is staring at you, smiling.

"I can have it?" an apple. You could dance. Days and days of travel after living in the same town and then the same convent to taken by force on a boar. An apple.

"Take it before I give it to Johnny," he grunts.

Suddenly, you feel a kinship with Eve.

Seasickness luckily doesn't affect you, and the melancholy is kept at bay by the apple. You think of it when you think you can't take anymore, remembering it's sweetness.

Simon becomes the safest person, and often if you feel scared your eyes find him.

When a minor storm rocks the boat, pelting rain, waves beating against the front, you tuck yourself close to his side and let Johnny take your hands into his.

Too easy to lean into them, to accept Johnny wiping your face gently with a cloth and eat fresh fish from Simons fingers. You're exhausted, and Simon doesn't push.

He just remains steadfast against chaos, even when Johnny fights with another one of the men and he has to pull them apart by their shirts.

"Si'down!" he barks, the loudest you've ever heard him. It makes you flinch, hiding again, until he sits heavily down beside you and you scoot as close as possible again.

"Not the smartest, are you?" he looks down. That hurts. You're just scared, is all. "Doesn't matter who's there, you'd cling right to them, wouldn't you?"

No, you want to say. But you just hide your face in your arms and cry again. You want to tell him the apple was special, that you know nobody else has one or got one, but you don't.

Your heart beats hard against your ribcage, that dread coming back again, feeling heavy and small under the weight of your predicament and his judgment.

"He didnae mean it," Johnny croons. He strokes your hair away from your face, thumbs finding your tense brows and smoothing them out. "We know you're a good girl. S'why we took ye."

You sniffle. The rocking of the boat has become both maddening and soothing.

You wonder when this journey will end.

Your clothes are stiff with salt, wetted and dried and re-wetted. Your skin itches, wrists burning, welts unhealed from before when the abbess has caught you sneaking mead.

She had accused you of indulgence, of trying to get drunk. Truthfully, you'd just liked the taste of honey and missed it.

Nuns didn't eat honey, at least not there. Cheese and wine were already over the top, God forbid anyone ate anything sweet. That's why you loved the apple, had held each bite long on your tongue, letting the sugars sit there a moment to savor them.

"Hey," someone nudges you, bringing you out of your half-sleep. Easier to be less conscious, less aware, trying not to feel your anguish and your physical pain. "Come on, get up. We're here."

"Hmm?" You're so tired, hissing and whimpering when your wrists are jostled.

Untied. They're being untired. Your head lifts too quickly, making you dizzy. Gaz is squatting in front of you, holding your leash.

"You awake?" he squints, tilting his head. "You look rough, sorry 'bout that. You good to stand?"

Too many questions. You're forced to lean on him heavily to try to stand. He's as solid as the others, just leaner. Kinder, honestly, as he mostly carries you off the longboat.

Muscles like a new foal, you take a seat on the soft wet sand and slump onto a crate. It's a struggle to walk on solid ground.

Men move around you, dumping and lifting and talking. Less excited than the last time they were on the beach, but there's still a buzz aflutter.

"Can I bring'er up?" Johnny is looking at you, his hand on Simon's forearm. Their affection is the quiet kind, something you only noticed the last couple days of the journey. Small touches, murmurs.

"Go ahead," Simon touches him back, moving towards Price when Johnny comes towards you.

"Awe, lamb," he coos, hauling you up with an arm around his shoulder. His other arm goes to hold your waist, squeezing. "Dinnae worry, I'll get ye in a bath soon 'nough."

He's not lying - after a painful, difficult walk, you make it to a wooden cabin. Looking around, there are a few of similar make, a little town.

"Go on in then, sweet hen," he pushes you just enough for you to shuffle your feet in the door.

Modest wooden furniture greets you, a one-room house with a large bed, fireplace, and table. The rest is beyond you once you spot the tub.

"Sit, let me get it ready for ye."

You nearly fall asleep, or maybe you do, because when you open your eyes Johnny has steaming water filled to halfway in the tub, wooden slats fragrant. He's crumbling a dried flower in as well, humming to himself.

"Alright, s'ready," he helps you up again. Modesty is forgotten, you're too tired and weary to care when he slips the woolen habit off and leaves you in a plain shift, finally untying your wrists. "Pretty girl." He says it under his breath, like he can't help it.

The water is better than the apple. You hiss when it touches your wounds, your sore muscles.

You're tired to your marrow, could weep about it, eyes still opening and closing. Around you, Johnny searches through various bags and chests until he finds a bar of soap.

The soap is better than the water.

"Feels good?" he whispers, dipping his hands in and lathering up. How he's up and about, you have no idea. Even his hands near your bare breasts don't phase you - that's how wiped you are.

"S'good," you mumble. "Thought I ws'gonna die."

"We wouldn't've let that happen, sweet girl. Too precious, our treasure," a kiss, on your shoulder. He rubs the soap on your skin, your arms and down to your fingers, washing them each one by one.

"N'ver want to do that again," and then, because you forget he's your captor. "Please."

The attention is soft, patient. The soap washes away salt and dirt and sweat, even tears when he wipes your face with a rag. This is a second baptism, a better one, with gentle hands massaging your scalp and the barest brush against your nipples.

"Sit up," he pushes you forward, rinses your hair, washes your back while you're there.

The rag swipes over your cunt when he gets there, once, twice, eyes boring into you. Your exhaustion mutes the squeeze of anxiety in your chest, closing your eyes to avoid his gaze.

"Right, all done," he helps you back out and into a long, thin shift.

The bed is soft, so soft, covered in furs and actually stuffed enough to cradle your body. You sink into it immediately, just barely registering the door opening again.

"She asleep?" It's Simon, carrying luggage.

"Aye," Johnny says. You hear them kiss, wondering if they think you're asleep. "Anything else?"

"No," he's gruff, to-the-point. Drops bags in the corner with a clank and a chest by the door with a thud. "She give you trouble?"

"Sweet as a lamb, our girl," he sounds proud.

You open your eyes, one last attempt at self-preservation, and see them looking down at you.

Simon swipes a thumb over your cheek, under your eye, still wearing the skull.

"It's alright, go to sleep," he murmurs. Johnny leans his head on Simons shoulder. "Perfect girl, knew we did good takin' you."

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novaursa · 2 months ago

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Broken by War (Continuation)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Aemond kneels before your mother, for you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

- A/N: Is this another unexpected post? Yes. Yes it is.

The sky outside rumbles as a dark shadow passes over Dragonstone. You watch from a window, heart heavy as Vhagar descends, wings outstretched like a stormcloud. The sea itself seems to bow beneath the ancient dragon's power, the waves thrashing against the rocks as if trying to claw their way to safety. But it isn’t the dragon that makes your chest tighten with unease—it’s him.

Aemond Targaryen, your uncle.

The heavy doors to the Great Hall are thrown open, and you see him dragged inside by two guards, his eye glaring defiantly despite the bruises on his face and the blood staining his tunic. His silver hair, once so perfect, is now disheveled, tangled with dirt and salt from the sea air. You can’t help but feel the pull in your chest, your worry for him rising above the rage boiling in the room.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, stands tall at the head of the hall, surrounded by your brothers. Her face is like stone, regal, unyielding, but you can see the storm brewing behind her eyes. Daemon lurks behind her, hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, ready to strike if she gives the word.

Aemond is thrown to his knees before her, and you step forward instinctively. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a brief moment, the tension of the room melts away. In his eye, you see something you had not expected—remorse, pleading, and something deeper, something that reaches back into your shared childhood. His lips part, and though his voice is raw, he speaks with conviction.

“Your Grace,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion as he keeps his head bowed, "I do not come to you as a prince of the greens, nor as the son of my mother... but as a man who has loved your daughter from the days we were children."

Rhaenyra's eyes narrow. “And yet you killed my son,” she hisses, venom lacing every word. Her hand clenches into a fist, her nails biting into her palm. The room tenses, the weight of Lucerys’ death still fresh in every heart.

You hold your breath. Your brothers shift uncomfortably, their rage palpable, but they do not move. Daemon’s grip on his sword tightens, his expression dark.

Aemond looks up, his face a mixture of desperation and grief. "I beg you to understand. What happened with Lucerys… it was not meant to be. It was an accident, Your Grace. A tragedy I cannot undo, no matter how deeply I wish I could. But I cannot kill her." His eye moves to you, and you feel the raw truth of his words pierce your heart. “I was ordered to, by my mother and grandsire. They sent me here to strike her down. But I cannot. I would rather die at your hands than harm her.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens ever so slightly, but her voice remains firm. “You think your love for her erases the blood on your hands? You think I should spare you, after what you’ve done to my family?”

Aemond kneels lower, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. His voice shakes, but his determination does not waver. "I ask not for your forgiveness, Your Grace, for I do not deserve it. But I swear to you—on my honor, on my blood—I will serve her. I will protect her, with my life if need be. I cannot kill her because... she is my heart. She has always been.”

Your breath hitches, a warmth spreading through your chest. Memories flood back—of a time when you and Aemond were children, playing together in the Red Keep. His laughter, the softness in his violet eyes when he looked at you, even then. You had both been too young to understand what it meant, but now, here, the weight of it is undeniable.

Rhaenyra steps forward, her eyes flicking to you. “Is this what you want?” she asks, her tone cautious, but there’s a hint of something more—fear, perhaps, that you might choose the son of her enemy.

You swallow, your gaze never leaving Aemond. He looks up at you, his face filled with an unspoken plea, a fragile hope that maybe you might still see the boy you once knew. And you do. Despite everything, you see him. The man who loved you, the boy who never stopped.

“I...” You falter, the words caught in your throat. The air feels too thick, the weight of everyone's gaze too heavy. But when you finally speak, your voice is steady. “I cannot deny that I still care for him, mother.”

Rhaenyra’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes flashing with pain. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if weighing the burden of her next decision. When she opens them, her gaze is locked on Aemond.

“Do not think for a moment this means I trust you, Aemond,” she says coldly. “But for her sake, I will spare you.” She steps back, but her voice hardens once more. “If you betray her, if you harm her in any way, I will not hesitate to make sure your life ends in fire and blood.”

Aemond bows his head again, the weight of the moment clear in his trembling voice. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will not fail her."

As the tension in the room loosens slightly, you step forward, closer to Aemond. He rises slowly, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. His hand reaches out, hesitating before lightly brushing your arm, his touch warm and familiar.

“I would have died before hurting you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter.

You don’t respond, not with words, but your eyes say enough. There's no simple forgiveness here, no erasing the past, but in this fragile moment, something rekindles. A silent understanding, a promise made long ago that somehow, against all odds, still endures.

And outside, as Vhagar rests near the cliffs, Vermithor watches from the heights of Dragonstone, the two ancient beasts as much a part of your fate as the blood that runs through your veins.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond

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2tcs · 4 months ago

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day 1: camping and candle

“Ugh. Why are we doing this again?” Danny complained as he watched his dad pull supplies out of the GAV.

“Well, your dad and I agreed that everyone has been a little too stressed. What with the ghosts destroying part of the school and your father and I's recent slump.” Maddie absently replied as she began clearing a spot for the fire pit.

“Besides Danno. This gives us the perfect opportunity to try out the new and improved Fenton Anti-ghost Tent.” Jack shouted as he put a glowing box on the ground and pressed a button on the side that caused it to fold out into what could only be described as a family-size carnival tent.

“Hay Jazz?”

“Ya Danny?”

“Please tell me you packed the actual tent.”

“Yes. I even managed to buy a box of MREs in case Mom and Dad brought contaminated food again.”

“A week of MREs. Yay. Well, we might as well get our side of camp set up 'cause I am not sleeping in that.”

👻🦇👻🦇

“Come hi everyone this is going to be fun. Think about it! Tents, roasted marshmallows, campfire stories. This will be awesome.” Dick said as he jumped out of the van and started unloading camping supplies.

“This is a survival training exercise, Richard. Not a family bonding trip.” Damian said as he looked at the single-family size tent that Dick had packed.

“For once I agree with Damien. This is not what I would consider “fun” or “awesome”.” Tim said as he set up his laptop to finish his report for the next WE project that is due next week.

“I just want to know how the hell I got roped into this.” Jason grumbled as he started picking up stones for a campfire ring.

“Come on guys. This is as close to family vacation as we have been able to get in, like, ever. Let's make the most of it and have some fun.” Dick pleaded with them. “You agree with me, right Duke?”

“I mean. Except for you and Damien, we're all city kids. But I guess it could be fun.” Duke hurriedly added on as he saw Dick start to pout. “Yeah, yeah. Well, I ain't setting this up myself. Duke help me with these rocks. Tim helped Dick set up the stupid tent. And Damien you got the most experience in survival training. I need you to go through and scout the area and pick up wood for this fire.” Jason said while ignoring Dick's happy dance at his family getting along and helping each other.

🦇👻🦇👻

“Come on Danno! How can you protect yourself from ghosts if you don't put on the Anti-ecto Spray?” Jack asked as he followed Danny as he gathered wood for the fire.

“We're in the middle of the forest, Dad. All we have to worry about out here is bugs and bears. And we have a spray for both already.” Danny argued.

“He's right Dad. Besides you have that Ecto Shield that will be covering the camp once everything is set up for the night.” Jazz said, watching as her dad pouted and walked over to their mom.

“Madds? You'll put on the Anti-ecto Spray won't you?”

“I'm sorry dear. But you know that stuff causes my skin to rash. I think I might be allergic to something we used in it.” Maddie said as she pulled out a dutch oven and some baking supplies. “Here honey, why don't you go and make some fudge? I know how much you like your campfire fudge.”

“Campfire fudge is pretty good. But we're going to need more firewood if we're going to bake.”

“I got it Dad.” Danny said, taking off into the woods in a desperate attempt to get away from all the anti-ghost stuff.

“That's my Danny Boy! Always eager to help out. Make sure you get some good size logs too!”

“I’ll go with him. For the buddy system.” Jazz said as she began to walk in the direction Danny had run off in.

👻🦇👻🦇

“Tt.”

“Don't Tt me. A dutch oven is an essential if you are going camping.” Jason said as he checked to see if the water was boiling before moving the pot back over the fire so that the water in it could stay hot.

“It is cumbersome and will weigh us down if we must move quickly through the woods.” Damian huffed.

“Well, it's a good thing we aren't going to need to move quickly through the woods. Now here's a knife and some potatoes. They've already been washed so now they just need cut up.”

“And what makes you think I will help you cook?”

“For the same reason that Tim is cutting up veggies and Duke is cutting the vegan turkey sausage. If you want to eat. You need to help.”

“Richard is not helping.”

“Richard would burn the forest down if we let him do anything more than roast marshmallows.”

“Hay! I'm not that bad.” Dick whined from where he was still struggling with the tent.

“August 26th, 2010.” Tim deadpanned as he put the veggies into the oven.

“Okay. That's not fair Tim.”

“Um. What happened in 2010?” Duke asked before they were interrupted my a loud explosion to the east of them.

“Put a pin in that Glowstick. I think we should check that out.” Jason said as he put the lid on the pot and moved it away from the fire before Tim quickly grabbed the bucket of dirt they had and smothered the fire with it before taking off towards the sound.

🦇👻🦇👻

“What the hell was that!” Danny yelled as he dropped the sticks he was carrying and ran back towards camp.

“I don’t know! Just run!” Jazz shouted back as she pulled out her collapsible creep stick and tossed Danny the laser lipstick.

By the time they broke through the brush, they saw the camp in chaos. The new tent was trying/failing to eat Jack and Maddie was fighting the ecto lights.

“I kinda want to let them suffer.” Danny said as he deactivated the lipstick. Only to sigh as a group of four men ran into the clearing and began to try and help.

“I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” Jazz commented as she watched the human tank shoulder-check their dad to get him out of the way while a tall slender man expertly climbed the poles of the tent to get to the power switch that was at the top of the tent for some reason.

“I don’t know Jazz. They seem like they're doing a good job.” Danny replied as the shortest and skinnyest of the group tried to help Maddy with the lights.

“I’ll get the lights. You get the tent.” Jazz sighed before taking off and using the creep stick to tangle the lights and yank them out of the portable ecto-battery that their parents brought with them. Danny in the meantime ran to the GAV and climbed on top to give him a clear shot at the off button seeing as the tent was moving too much to climb. One clean shot and the tent folded in on itself, back into the box it was that morning.

“Danno! Jazzypants! Good job!” Jack shouted as he scooped both kids into a hug.

“And thank you to you four as well. It’s clear you have had training but you should really leave the ecto fighting to the professionals.” Maddy addressed the young men who had come over to make sure everyone was okay.

“Ecto fighting? Lady I don’t know” The tank asked as he crossed his arms.

“What my brother means to say!” The one who tried to climb the tent interrupted. “Is that we’re from Gotham so are kinda used to having to fight. I’m Dick by the way. This is my brother Jason. Tim is the one who is currently investigating the tent box? And Duke is standing next to him. And last but not least this is Damian!”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all! I’m Jack! That’s my lovely wife Maddie, and these are our kids! Jazz and Danny!”

“You were quite adept with your baseball bat. Have you ever thought about training with a bo staff?” Damian asked Jazz.

“It’s actually what I was originally trained in when Mom was training me how to fight.” Jazz said while straightening her hair once Jack put her and Danny down.

“If you want honeybun I can make you a new bo staff when we get home. It would offer more maneuverability during a ghost fight.”

“Ghost fight?” Tim asked as he and Duke walked over to the little family.

“Ya! Me and Madds here are ectobiologists!” Jack excitedly said before Jazz took the wind out of his sail.

“It doesn’t really matter what we are right now. The FAT completely wrecked the camp. The GAV and the MREs are okay but we’ll probably have to move camp or go home.”

“I saw an old cabin to the west of us with some candles and stuff not far from here when I got the first batch of firewood. We could stay there and leave some of our supplies in exchange for anything we use.” Danny chipped in.

“Hay! I think we passed that on the way here! Maybe we can all camp together! Safety in numbers you know?” Dick suggested as he bounced on his toes.

“That’s a great idea! How about you boys gather your camp and meet us there!” Jack cheered before he ran off to pack the GAV back up.

“Danny dear. Can you go with them and mark a trail to the cabin for us? Here’s some orange ribbon to tie to the trees.” Maddy said before ushering Jazz off so that Danny could “hang out with boys his age.”

“So,” Danny said as he started down the trail. “Gotham huh?”

“Yup. Where are you from?” Dick asked.

“Amity Park.”

“The most haunted place in the world?” Tim asked as he pulled out his phone and began typing.

“Sounds interesting.” Duke said only for Danny to through his head back and groan loudly causing the siblings to look at each other.

“Yes, it's haunted. No, I would not recommend going. The government already has it’s nose in it. And even though my parents didn’t recognize a group of Wayens doesn’t mean I didn’t. We do not need that kind of publicity.”

“Fair enough.” Jason shrugged while leaning over to look at Tim’s phone.

“Let’s just get this done.” Danny grumbled trying to walk ahead of the group.

“We’re totally going to investigate this aren’t we.” Duke whispered when Danny was far enough ahead.

“Tt. Obviously Thomas.”

~~~~~

An hour late but I think I did it. Hope everyone enjoyed it!

#dpxdc #dpxdc event #dpxdcfamilyweek24 #day 1: camping and candle

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atlaculture · 4 months ago

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What food from their 'cultures' do you think the gang would like? Real life food

Oh, this will be a fun question to answer! I'll make this an ongoing series for as many characters as I can think of.

Favorite Foods: Aang

Seeing as Aang has always loved traveling the world on Appa, he strikes me as someone who prefers food he can easily carry and eat while in the air. He's more a snack guy than a meal guy, is what I'm saying. He's also shown to be very fond of egg custard tarts and fruit pies, so I assume he also really likes rich desserts. With these considerations in mind, here's Aang's food board:

Momos - Tibetan stuffed dumplings. They're easy to carry around and eat on the go. Plus, they share a name with everyone's favorite flying lemur. I think Aang's favorite momo filling would be cheese with mushrooms or veggies.

Shom-Dae - Tibetan rice pudding. It's made by mixing fresh steamed rice with yogurt and sugar. Tibetan yogurt is made from yak milk, so it's very rich in fat content. Yogurt is so beloved in Tibet that it even has its own festival there, called Sho Dun.

Bhatsa Marku - A cheesy dessert pasta from Tibet. The primary ingredients are gnocchi-like noodles, dried yak cheese, butter, and sugar. I've also seen non-dessert versions comprised of the gnocchi noodles with mushrooms and butter. I think Aang would love both.

Chhurpi - A rock-hard cheese traditional to the Himalayas. It's typically a yak cheese that has been smoked and dried to remove all the moisture content. This allows it to be easy to carry and transport, as it can remain mold-free and edible for up to 20 years. One cube of chhurpi can be chewed on for hours, as it takes quite a while for the cheese to soften in the mouth.

Ngarchur - A dried Tibetan sweet cheese made from boiled yogurt. Like chuurpi, it's keeps well and is easy to transport, although it's not hard.

Khapse - Tibetan fried dough. Depending on how you shape the dough, it can be crunchy like chips or soft like youtiao.

Sanga Balep - A crispy Tibetan pastry covered in powdered sugar. Not much to say other than it looks really satisfying to eat.

I also have a series on possible Air Nomad cuisine here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #air nomads #cultural cuisine #ATLA favorite foods #aang #replies #building up

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slashers-gf · 5 months ago

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I'm here for you... pt1

I don't know it this is good or not. Sorry for any misspelling. I was trying to write this quickly 😭 Might make a part 2 of this. Hope you enjoy 🫶

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Kenji Sato x reader

Word count: 3k

Summery: You and kenji are childhood best friends. Kenji hasn't been answering you for several days, and you start to get worried. You go to a good place to see what's happening to him and to try and help him.

"Damn it, kenji, why haven't you been answering me? It's been several days since you're not answering my texts or calls." I've been trying to contact kenji for days and nothing. Today was the day I was going to go confront him. I got to the car and made my way to his house.

**Meanwhile with Kenji**

"Please go to sleep emi '' trying to rock emi to sleep. "She's fussy," Mina says, looking at what's happening. "Oh really, i didn't notice," kenji said sarcastically.

The baby kaiju seems to be finally settling down. "Ah finally" seeing as it's starting to close her eyes and breathing slowed down.

"It appears y/n has arrived and is outsode right now," showing security camera. "Damn it, why she her right now. What am i going to do about Emi? She already knows that im Ultraman. " Looks at the sleeping kaiju and puts her back into the glass cylinder unit. "Mina, i need you to take care of Emi and hide her." Mina follows the order and hides emi and watches over her.

"Hey, open the damn door," states to bang on the door till someone opens it. Kenji grumbled to himself before heading towards the door and opening it, leaning his muscular frame against the door frame.

"What do you want?" Kenji crossed his arms, not too pleased by your sudden presence.

"Why have you been ignoring me? I've called and texted." Stats to get angry by his attitude. Kenji avoided eye-contact and looked at everything in the room except you.

"I've been busy," He answered. It was a shitty excuse, but the truth. Just a lie to hide the truth.

"Oh, busy is that it" gets more annoyed. Kenji rolled his eyes and looked away from you once more. "Obviously." His tone was cold and sharp. It was different from how he usually spoke to you. He was usually quite gentle and cheerful, but this attitude was the complete opposite. It was as if he was purposely trying to push you away... but why?

"Tell me the truth, what's happening?" Kenji sighed and gripped onto the door frame, his body language was closed off, guarded...as if he was trying to hide something

"I told you, I'm busy," He said firmly, his eyes darkening. He was clearly agitated at the fact that you were questioning him. "That's not it, and I know it," seeing how he is being suspicious.

Kenji grit his teeth together and gripped the frame of the door so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He looked away again and spoke in an annoyed tone. "Why are you so pushy about knowing everything? Huh? Just drop it and piss off already"

" Because I know when you're lying, so tell me what's wrong." See how he was acting, and I started to get concerned about him. Kenji snapped, and the irritation that he had been pushing down had finally boiled over. He stepped forward and locked eyes with you, his voice raising*

"No! Okay!? I don't want to tell you or anyone anything and I don't plan to! Just piss off!"

"What the hell is your problem?" I started to raise my voice. Kenji ran a hand down his face in frustration, scoffing. "My problem is you! You just can't seem to take a damn hint and leave!"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now. I come here because I'm worried about you and your just going to act like a piece of shit "

Kenji's eyes darkened, and a cold, bitter laugh slipped past his lips. "You're worried about me, huh? Sure, as hell doesn't seem like it! You've been nagging me this whole time to open up like I'm some sort of sob story that needs saving!"

"Well I am fucking worried, I always have been. I'm your best friend and I'm just trying to understand and help you" lowers voice and gets hurt by what he has just said.

Kenji's shoulders slumped, and he leaned against the door frame again. He looked tired, beyond exhausted mentally and physically. His voice was quiet and bitter.

"Well...you don't need to, okay? I'm fine..Everything's fine" he said, sighing.

"Wow, you really are just childish and only care about yourself and not others about you? " turns about and starts to walk towards my car.

Kenji froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Why did what you said hurt so badly? He bit back the tears that began to well up in his eyes, his vision going blurry. He had been pushing you away and yet here he was on the verge of tears. He cursed under his breath, clenching a fist and quickly turned around, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back towards him. "Where are you going!?"

"Home clearly since you don't need my help with anything ." Trying to break away from his grip. Kenji's grip on your wrist tightened as he held you firmly in place, preventing you from leaving. He hated this feeling and hated how his heart ached in his chest. Damn it...why did he feel so vulnerable around you... "Just..just stay" He said quietly

"Why? why should I if you are just going to keep lying to me over and over again? " turning back to look him in the face.

Kenji groaned and let go of your wrist, running a hand through his raven hair as he avoided eye contact once more. He bit his bottom lip and looked off to the side, contemplating on answering your question.

"I'm not lying.." He said in a quiet whisper. He was lying. He hadn't told you everything.. but in his heart, is that really lying? "I just..." *He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale "I just don't want you to worry..."

"I'm here for you, and I've always been since I was a kid. But I don't want to watch you like this and treat me like shit, " I said, looking at his face.

Kenji flinched, his eyes snapping open. He winced at your words, his heart panging once more and his stomach twisting into knots. He hated this.. Why couldn't you just listen to him and leave him alone? He didn't want you to witness his breakdown, his pain, his struggle. He was supposed to be strong... to be the one that people look up to. A broken hero.. but could he really say that?

Kenji cursed once more, grabbing your sleeve and pulling you away from the door and into the apartment.

"Hey, let go of me," trying to get out of his grasp. Kenji ignored your protests and tugged you into the apartment further, closing the door behind you and shutting the world outside behind him. He finally let go of you and stepped away.

"No! You wanted to come here and now you're here. You're not leaving until you listen to me!"

"Why should I if you are not going to tell me what's really wrong and not want my help?" Looking at kenji to see what his reaction is. Kenji clenched his fists tightly, his body growing tense. He knew you were right, and he knew he had no right to be mad at you... yet there was an anger that was welling up in his chest. His jaw clenched. "I don’t need your pity, okay?! Stop acting like I need your damn help!" He said, raising his voice.

"So you're just not going to tell me anything then?" I said as Kenji closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders slumping once more. He looked defeated. As much as he tried to keep up the tough act, he just couldn’t. He was exhausted and tired..he just didn’t know how to explain everything to you without burdening you further.

"Look...it's not that I don’t want to tell you anything..it's just..” He couldn’t look you in the eye, choosing to look down at the ground instead

"Go on" I said, wanting him to continue on with what he was saying. Kenji’s jaw clenched, his fingers tapping against his leg anxiously.

Where did he even start? He thought. He closed his eyes and opened them again, staring straight into yours “Promise me you won’t say anything…to anyone, alright?:

"Yes, of course I already know your ultraman, and I haven't told anyone," getting concerned about what he was going to say to me. Kenji relaxed slightly. He had to admit he did feel relief in the fact that you already knew. He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “I’m assuming you want the reason as to why I��ve been distant..correct?” Kenji sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache, and he hadn’t even started yet.. “It’ll be hard to explain, hell you might not even believe me but…” He trailed off and sat down on the couch, motioning for you to do the same.

I followed and sat next to him on the couch. "Kenji, you know that you can tell me anything, right?" Looking at his expression. Kenji nodded, staring down at his now clenched fists resting on his lap. He felt vulnerable, vulnerable, and terrified. Scared of what you’d think. “I know, I know.. just..” He swallowed his saliva, his throat suddenly feeling very dry “Just listen, ok?”

"Yes, of course I'll listen to whatever you say." Seeing how he was reacting, I know something major was happening to his life. Kenji breathed in slowly before exhaling. He knew he had to say it. He had no choice but to spit it out. It was better if you heard it from him rather than later. “The reason…” He swallowed nervously once more. “The reason I’ve been closed off and distant with you…is because I don't want you to hate me." His voice began to tremble.

"Kenji, I would never take you no matter what happens." Seeing him like this broke my heart, knowing he was suffering, and i wasn't there to console him. Kenji shut his eyes even tighter, his body trembling as he fought the tears that welled up behind his eyelids. God, he was so pathetic. He was on the verge of tears again, and this time, his resolve finally broke. The dam of tears broke and poured down his cheeks like a waterfall as he choked out a broken response. “You’d say that now…but you won’t when you find out the truth..”

I look at Kenji and grab his hand. Kenji’s lip quivered as he felt your hand grab his, the touch of your skin against his was suddenly too much for him. He looked at you with tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy. “Damnit..” He muttered, using his other hand to wipe away tears, but they just kept coming.. he hated how damn emotional he felt, and yet at the same time, it felt like a relief in a way..

"Kenji, I'm going to be here for you no matter what, so tell me so I can understand and help you, kenji." Kenji’s heart twisted. Your words only made him feel guilty. He didn’t deserve the kindness you were giving to him, but yet here you were. Willing to listen to his story. He looked down at your hand that was holding his and gently squeezed it, enjoying the feeling of your hand in his. He swallowed hard and nodded, knowing he didn’t have a choice. He had to say it.. “Okay..okay you wanna know the truth?”

Kenji took a deep breath. This was it. There was no turning back now. He gently pulled his hand away from yours and ran a hand through his raven hair. His voice went quiet, and it was shaky as he spoke. “Please..promise me that you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. This can’t leave this room..”

"Yes, of course I promise kenji," giving his hand a squeeze to comfort him. Kenji closed his eyes and slowly took another breath, steeling himself to say what he knew would change everything. He clenched the couch in his fists, the soft material of the couch bunched up beneath his strong hands “Okay..here it goes…” Kenji’s chest tightened, and his heart raced. He swallowed once more before he spoke, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. “My mom.. passed away a couple of years ago..”

I stay quiet and just listen to him and what he has to say. Kenji’s eyes began to water as he recalled the memory of losing his mother. It had left a permanent scar in his heart, one that he knew would never heal. He cursed silently under his breath, squeezing the fabric of his jeans. " She was the most important person in my life. My rock..so when I lost her, it hurt like hell. And the pain didn’t go away..not even to this day..”

" I know how hard it can be on you. You loved her very much, and she loved you, but she wouldn't want to see you crying like this. " Kenji knew you were right. Every word you said was right. His mama wouldn’t want to see him this wreck. That was for certain, but he couldn’t help it. The pain was too damn much, and as much as he hated to admit it, he had finally reached his limit...“Why, why did she have to pass away? I just don’t understand..” He whispered, his voice cracking as he looked down at the floor, fresh tears falling down his face.

" Sometimes life doesn't go the way everyone wants it. There are going to be times when you just want to disappear from this world. But you know it's not your fault or anyone's. She loved you very much more than you think. It's okay to feel like this. You are human, too. You don't need to act strong just because you are ultraman. " Kenji nodded, listening to your words. Sometimes, he was so used to acting tough and strong that he forgot he was just a regular person with emotions. He felt silly having a miniature breakdown, but at the same time, he felt relieved. After all, he hadn’t shared this pain with anyone before..

He swallowed hard, looking down at his lap “I know..it’s just sometimes the pain gets too much, and I wonder why it had to happen to me. I miss her so much. Some days, I'm feel like I’m going to go crazy..”

"I know you do. I miss her, and she was like a second mom to me. Remember when she would have those game days when we were little, and she would cheer for you." Recalling those memories that we had shared together with his mom. Kenji chuckled as the memories came flooding back. The game days, they were always his favorite…he couldn’t believe you remembered them too. He smiled warmly, his dark eyes gleaming with sadness.

“Yea I remember…we would get so rowdy that sometimes it would get out of hand, and we’d get in trouble. I swear I’ll never forget that time when we both broke the vase…and mom yelled at us like hell..”

"You have many fun and happy memories with her. She always wanted you to be happy." Kenji nodded, the corners of his mouth curving into a small smile. There were many happy memories, and he had to admit that. His mind began to recall one after another.. their laughs, their games, their fun days…but as quickly as those happy memories came, the pain came rushing back. “I know.. I know she wanted me to be happy, but hell. It’s just so damn hard without her..”

"It's okay to feel like that, but you can't just push everyone that cares about you away," I said, looking at him and how he was quiet. Kenji stayed silent, his eyes downcast once more. Deep down, he knew it was true. Every word you said was true. But he didn’t know why he was so scared of accepting it. The thought of losing someone again, the thought of losing you.. “You’re right..but look where it gets me..I’m just a wreck..”

"I'm here for you to lean on me," I said, knowing that no matter what, I was going to stay by his side. Kenji looked up at you once more, his jaw tensing. A part of him wanted to keep pushing you away and hide his vulnerability away.. but the other part just wanted to pull you into his arms and not let go. “Why? Why are you still here? Why are you still bothering me..? I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you..”

"I don't know, I've been with you my whole life. You're someone precious to me, and I don't want that precious someone to suffer in front of me, " I said, smiling at him. Kenji’s lip trembled, your words of kindness overwhelming him. He had a feeling you’d say something cheesy like that..yet at the same time, it was just the truth. You stuck by his side through everything, and he realized how many times he probably took your friendship for granted.. “Damnit..” He muttered quietly, looking off to the side. “You’re far too nice for your own good, you know that?”

"Really!? I think I'm just doing the right thing. " I said while laughing. Kenji rolled his eyes and managed a small laugh in response to yours. Your optimism always got the best of him, even in the darkest of times. But deep down, he felt grateful. I am grateful that you hadn’t given up on him, even when he had pushed you away. “Yea yea you’re always right like the smartass you are..” He said, shoving your shoulder lightly.

"Don't call me that," I said while flicking his for heard with my finger. Kenji flinched when you flicked his forehead, rubbing the spot and pouting at you. He huffed and folded his arms across his chest, scowling at you. "Ow damn’t..” He grumbled, his lips twitching in an almost smile* “Oh come on, you know you love me calling you that." I slightly blushed at this but looked the other way so he couldn't see.

"Ya ya, whatever, so are you going to keep pushing me away?" I asked, looking at him for a reply. *Kenji stayed quiet for a few moments, his mind racing as he tried to come up with some snarky retort, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, admitting his defeat*

“No, No I’m not going to keep pushing you away..” He said, his voice quiet. “It was stupid of me, anyway. You’re right, I’ve been a jerk and I’m sorry..” He looks down at his lap. "Wow, the infamous kenji Sato said sorry to sorry one," I said, smirking. *Kenji rolled his eyes and huffed, smacking your shoulder this time*

“You’re lucky I’m being nice right now, or I’d knock that smirk right off your face..” He scowled half-heartedly, his dark eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. Despite his rough exterior, the truth was that he really missed this. Missed being around you like this...

"So are you going to tell me why you smell like fish and barf?" I said, looking at him up and down. Kenji froze in shock.

“Ah crap..”

To be continued...

#kenji sato #kenji x reader #ultraman #ultraman rising #kenji sato x reader #emi sato #fanfic #fantasy #netflix #ken sato #ken x reader

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posalis · 7 months ago

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AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

1.18 — The Waterbending Master // 3.14 — The Boiling Rock, Part 1

#atla #avatar the last airbender #sokka #sokka gif #zuko #zuko gif #zukka #zukka gif #collecting zukka crumbs #katara #aang #//#parallels

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faretheeoscar · 9 months ago

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NEEDY MIGUEL pt 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, sex toys, brief mentions of sex, a form of voyerism (?), oral sex, Peter B. mini cameo that could lead to something else in the future

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel who was siting down on his desk having a bad morning after not sleeping enough last night, having to conduct meetings all morning leaving him in a very cranky mood.

Needy Miguel that shifted uncomfortable on his seat thinking about how today was another day when he was a coward and instead of trying to get closer to you, he sent you away on a 3 day mission

Needy Miguel that searching for one of his tools on his desk to occupy his mind in something else that wasn’t frustrating him more, notices a small gift on one of his drawers and inspects it, his face turning 5 shades redder as he opens the box and quickly tosses it back

Needy Miguel that is fuming in anger thinking about who could’ve pranked him that way, stuffing a sex toy on his desk? That was a very untaste full joke that made his blood boil.

Needy Miguel that overthinks and calls out for Lyla, she says to him that only one hand full of people had come to his office, she includes your name on that list and he quickly dismisses her, for him to be alone with his thoughts feeling a pressure tightening on his chest and his mind clouding.

Needy Miguel that stares at the toy and can’t stop thinking about the subtle looks you gave him that morning on the meeting, could it really be you that left him that in there? No, that was ridiculous, it was probably one of Parker’s jokes, he’d always be nagging him about not getting any action, and that he needed to blow off his frustrations some way, hinting to the two of them maybe… well thinking about that let’s not go that way, that’s a total different story for another day

Needy Miguel that reaches out for the toy and takes it out of the box, to inspect it, the toy looking so small against his big palms, he introduces one finger and his eyes immediately roll to the back of his head at the feeling of it.

Needy Miguel that quickly made disappear the crotch part of his suit as his hard rock cock spring out already leaking precum that will do as lube for now

Needy Miguel that slowly takes the toy and push his cock inside it groaning loudly at the sensation not even caring if anyone could hear him outside his office

Needy Miguel that made a mess of himself in less than 3 minutes just by the sensation of something different than his hand, and how the semitransparent small thing looked rolling against his thickness as it squeezed him hard cause it could barely fit around him

Needy Miguel that kept jerking himself with the toy even if he was sensitive and his thighs twitched by the overstimulation of it, cause for him one orgasm simply wasn’t enough

Needy Miguel that got the urge of having a visual aid and while still moving the toy up and down his length reached out for the footage of you before you left for the three day mission he sent you and zoomed in on his screen

Needy Miguel that whined desperately as he watched how your eyes were focusing on him the whole time he conducted the meeting, hips buckling up and thinking about how he’ll keep your eyes focused on him not letting you close them even if he rolled his girth so deep inside you that he would reach your cervix and make you both moan in need

Needy Miguel that let out short gaps of breath as he focused on stimulating his tip with the wrinkly parts of the toy as he saw your pretty face pouting when he said he was sending you away with other members that weren’t him.

Needy Miguel that started to think about how your lips would look around his cock, how they would stretch out due his thickness.

Needy Miguel that indulged better in that fantasy, imagining,the lingering stickiness of his previous load inside the toy, acting as if it was your saliva, how your tongue would lap over his tip to then take him fully.

Needy Miguel that started murmuring to himself praises he’d give to you as he saw you biting your lip on his screen while you payed attention to him on the meeting this morning.

“look at you princesa, taking me— so well”

Watching his cock disappear on the small hole of the toy picturing your stretching lips and how would you hallow your cheeks so suck him better

Needy Miguel that imagined how he’d take your head and bob it up and down his liking making you gag and plead silently for a breathing

“que bonita te ves, sucking my cock at work—-“

Needy Miguel that fastened his pace hips fully fucking the toy at the thought of how your warm throat would feel around him, when he’d fuck your mouth making tears roll down your cheeks, imagining how you’d drool for him.

“Coño cariño , keep on going, just like that”

Needy Miguel that kept on fantasising over you as he rolled his hips up sensually keeping himself on edge as his calls of your name resonated all over his office.

Needy Miguel that gasped for air as he felt his balls tightening making his eyes roll to the back of his head trying to suppress a moan biting his bottom lip and making a small cut to it with his fangs

Needy Miguel that looked down at his twitching member and how it spurt out ropes of cum all over his desk, as he stimulated it for a few more seconds before stopping

Needy Miguel who’s chest was lifting up and down uncontrollably and he let out a pathetic whine when he finally took his cock out of the pocket pussy to shove it back to the drawer.

Needy Miguel that started to feel the embarrassment of his actions and felt his anxiety creeping back up at him, but before he could close his eyes and lean back on his desk chair; saw a little white piece of paper shining on the back of the drawer

Needy Miguel who got confused when he saw a little note on the back of his desk drawer and his face turn white when he read that it was from you and quickly, went through his history of calls on his gizmo, noticing that as your note stated he had in fact called you in his alone time yesterday…

Needy Miguel that reached back down his crotch to feel his once again hardening cock to start to tug it again even though it hurt at this point by how hard he have been jerking off, reading the note over and over again, picturing your mischievous smile while you wrote it:

I enjoyed your call from last night…. I hope my little gift serves you better than your hand, that only until I get back to see you again ;)

Oh, you were a little brat…and he will show you the consequences of your little prank, but for now he’d probably just kept his office locked and forget about work for today due to his new entertainment source and your tease that will keep him hot and bothered.

Shock you’re gonna be the death of him

AN: Guys I gotta thank you for he overwhelming response to the first part of this thing!

It was supposed to be a one time dump of horny thoughts but I’m so grateful for y’all and hope you enjoyed this second one too!

Thanks again for the new 100 of y’all and over 1k numbers on the first part! 🫶🏼

PS: can’t stop imagining Miguel jerking off all day, god… so pathetic and hot 🥵

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

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#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spidersona

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dilatorywriting · 2 years ago

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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 1

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kcrossvine-art · 4 months ago

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Hey folks! Itsssssssssssss timeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee for another dungeon meshi cooking time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Isnt that neat.

Its weird to think how long its gonna be before season 2 of the anime drops. Anyway go read the manga i promise you wont regret it. This ones from senshis lil garden on legs-

Today we'll be making Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch?” YOU MIGHT ASKIts vegetables, vegetable wauter, and not Much else! Knife is there too.

Head of cabbage

4 carrots

3 potatoes

2 onions

2 turnips

Thick slice bacon

Butter

Seasoned rice vinegar

I lied theres pork did you fall for it did u catch it.

AND, “what does Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKSon, have you ever eaten a vegetabel

Broth is surprisingly flavorful considering the limited spices and short cooktime

Potatoes are perfect texture for dipping

Cabbage absorbed a lot of the juices!!!

Was more impressed by the salad part of the meal-

The turnips need to be sliced enough to Barely see through, and the carrots julienned thin enough to be almost peels

And its this wonderful vegetable confetti tasteful in its simple pleasure

Rice vinegar of any kind will work, seasoned rice vinegar is just what i had

Salt both parts of the meal generously

In the future i wouldve shredded or cut the cabbage much smaller. We'll talk more on that later. Its also intentionally barebones with spices and oils, me using butter and rice vinegar is even pushing the limits of show accurate because in the show they used plain olive oil.

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From idea to execution, this was a very quick recipe. For starters, nothing gets cooked all that long (the water spends more time empty than it does ingredient'ed) and for lasters nothing gets cut all that much. It was tricky finding good sources for stewing a whole cabbage because most recipes call for either shredding or at least chopping smaller. And they do this for a reason. Its unwieldy trying to eat a whole half of cabbage, you never quite know when to start or where to start. Do you bite chunks out? Peel leaves? Spear it with other things? I dont know. I still dont. Im not a huge raw cabbage fan and it wasnt raw, but it wasnt transformed much either. Minimalist.

This was a feast in the show and i bet that the freshness of the veggies were a factor, considering they were plucked fresh off the living rock guys. I wouldve killed to be able to brown the onions, roast the carrots, or maybe cube the potatoes (though the consistency was perfect for forking and dipping them in butter so! Bonuses.)

Oven roast bacon is a beloved treet for me. It seemed to absorb some of the vegetable broth and vice versa with the broth absorbing the oils from the bacon, which enhanced all the flavors. Maybe in the future itd be nice to try cooking the bacon a bit ahead, and then adding it to the pot while everythings boiling? Also adding a spritz of lemon juice to either/both is always nice!

I give this recipe a solid 7/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) for its simplicity. With modifications like shredding the cabbage and more seasonings, it could become an easy 10/10. hit that like and subscribe or kill me

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

Head of cabbage

4 carrots

3 russet potatoe

2 white onions

2 turnips

10 slices of thick slice bacon

Butter

Seasoned Rice vinegar

Stew Method:

Preheat your oven to 400f. Line a rimmed baking sheet with foil and place a baking rack on top (alternatively you can use a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper and no baking rack. but the baking rack lets the air circulate better and the grease drip off!)

Cook your bacon for about 18 minutes or until crisp. Flip halfway through.

Chop your carrots, peel and slice your potatos in half, and slice your onions into rings.

Get a large pot with a tight fitting lid, add water, salt, your carrots, your potato pieces, and your onions. Cover and heat to a low boil.

Cut the cabbage head in half down the middle. Once the pot is boiling, carefully add your cabbage to the pot and arrange the halves so theyre fully covered.

Cover and cook for about 13 minutes, the cabbage should be slightly crisp but have give to them.

Remove from heat and laddle contents into a bowl, arrange some of your bacon along the sides so the fat and the broth mix :) salt and pepper to taste. And get a little saucer for butter so you can dip the potato pieces and/or coat the cabbage pieces.

Salad Method:

Peel your carrots and turnips. Cut off the ends of both. Julienne your carrots, and thinly slice your turnips.

Add your carrot greens (or your chosen leaf filler) to a bowl, then add your carrots and turnips.

Coat with seasoned rice vinegar, salt, and pepper. Thoroughly mix and enjoy :)

#dungeon meshi #food recipe #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #digital art

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inkykeiji · 7 months ago

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⋆₊˚⊹♡ choso + dealing with your brattiness

character: kamo choso warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, reader is a Brat with a capital b, stepcest, toxic relationship, hair pulling, size difference, fem!reader, one (1) spank words: 703

do you ever just want to be a mean, bitchy, bratty lil girl—wearing too-short skirts and no panties underneath, purposefully flashing little glimpses that are nothing more than teasing, taunting, titillating; purring out smart-mouthed remarks to every statement vaguely sent your way, sticky sweet like spoiled syrup dripping from your lips—and testing the limits of big step-brother choso and his Nice Guy Nature???

pushing him further and further and further, stretching him thinner and thinner and thinner, until he finally fucking snaps, grabs you so tightly by your lil wrist that he leaves the prettiest bracelet of blue and purple in the mold of his thick fingers stained into your skin and yanks so hard that you stumble over your own ankles, falling naturally into his lap???

those big hands are shoving their way up your skirt, the material bunching around your tailbone, callused palms roaming your supple flesh and kneading, pinching, squeezing, just hard enough to snap tiny networks of capillaries beneath his fingertips, just firm enough to have you squealing and trying to bury your face in his shoulder.

but he isn’t going to allow that, one set of fingers burying themselves in your hair, knuckles rooted flush to your scalp, strands twisted around his digits as he pulls, tugging you from your hiding spot and forcing a sharp yelp from your throat.

“you think you can act so nasty to me and just get away with it?” he’s asking, voice vibrating against your ribs as his hand tightens, jerking your head back further, neck arched and on display. “huh?”

chestnut eyes, dark and gaping and shrouded by dense lashes, search your face, narrowing slightly as he sneers. hot breath wafts across your cheeks, coming out his nose in ragged huffs, his chest heaving against yours as his fury climbs, rises to a boil behind his sternum, melts his heart to something thick and sticky and foul, steadily consuming his rationality.

“wh-why not? what’re you gonna—ow!—do about it?”

and even mangled in such an uncomfortable, compromising position, features fighting the urge to contort in pain, you’re still such a fucking brat, smirk strained but goading, gaze glittering with a daring audacity—do something, onii-chan, do something.

a growl rumbles behind choso’s ribs and he wrenches harder, the base of your skull nearly touching the top of your spine, thorns searing through your scalp.

“you really want to play these games?”

despite the tears shimmering in your eyes—so pretty, so perfect, just barely contained by your lash line as they build, bulge, threaten to spill over—you swallow resolutely, unblinking stare steadily holding his own.

“i really do, onii-chan.”

his cock is already hard, you can feel it, pressed tightly against your thigh, hips shifting a little in a halfhearted attempt to grind against it, edges of your grin growing when it twitches in response.

“and i know you do, too.”

his upper lip curls with vexation—an unusual distortion of his handsome face—the beginnings of a snarl huffed out from between parted lips, half-smothered, the strong hinges of his jaw flexing as his molars grind together.

“alright, let’s play. you wanna know what i’m gonna do about it?”

“uh-huh.”

leaning down, his massive body blankets yours, grip on your strands loosening slightly as his mouth finds your ear, lips caressing the cartilage as his words bead along your skin, low and wet and hot.

“i’m going to show you what happens to little girls who think they can treat their onii-chans with such disrespect.”

a soft whine catches in your throat, pelvis rocking slightly and thighs squeezing his hips as damp, dense heat begins to sprawl in your tummy. your words are breathy, bordering on begging, all previous challenge faded from your tone, replaced with a dreamy sort of desperation.

“what happens?”

a firm palm collides with the bare skin of your ass, stark and sudden, the sharp sound tangling with the pitchy cry knocked from your chest. his hand stays flat and splayed against the burning skin, singeing the tingles into your flesh before his fingers tense, carving violet-tinged crescents into your bum as his grip strengthens.

“they’re unable to sit for a week.”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x you

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yikes-kachowski · 5 months ago

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A piggy back off your last ask! Your AU has me all excited. I'm curious about Zuko and Katara's tenure as monarchs? How did the people receive her as their fire lady?

Also your art is amazing!! Can't wait to see more 🥰❤️

This au is very detailed lol, so if you have questions feel free to ask. Just understand that @shalheretical and I have named lots of places in the atla world.

We’re going to break this into three parts: one on notable events in Zuko’s tenure as Fire Lord; one on Katara’s accomplishments that relate specifically to duties she performed in relation to being the Fire Lady (she did other things outside of it); and a final note on the reception of an outside minority woman as the Fire Lady.

PART I

Immediately after the complete and unconditional surrender of the Fire Nation, all military personnel who are not directly involved in civil administration are recalled back to the Fire Nation—though they must find suitable local replacements and return as soon as possible. The Gaoling Agreement of 101 AG saw the repatriation of 1.3m Fire Nation occupiers from everywhere in the Earth Kingdom but the northwestern Gansai region. Because of this, and a late Azulon policy of Development First, Industry Now, which had 75% of all Fire Nation agriculture halted in favor of industrial development and had most food being imported by way of colonial extraction, the sudden population growth and the fact that they had to move factories and warehouses to start farming again, saw that 53 percent of the Fire Nation was experiencing starvation, and that 16 percent was experiencing acute starvation—5 percent experienced famine. This would be at its worst for the first four years of Zuko’s reign—known as the Rice-Rations Years—but it would only truly stabilize in 110 AG.

A near-complete shutdown of the archipelago’s ports until 103 AG exacerbated this problem. However, this was to prevent, as much as possible, the 3.5m individuals identified as war criminals/accomplices to war crimes from escaping to “safe havens” such as Jinyala, the Si Wong, or Whale Tale Island. No one was allowed to leave the ports without a written order by the Fire Lord. The nascent Earth Kingdom Navy helped patrol Fire Nation waters; these sailors, along with some Kyoshi Warriors, also helped inspect ships leaving Fire Nation docks for potential stowaways. The Earth Navy would stay until 104 AG.

The Boiling Rock was used to hold Tier 1 and 2 war criminals until the Omashu Trials began. After this, the Boiling Rock would be shut down. Non-political Fire Nation prisoners would be moved to more humane prisons; non Fire Nationals would be extradited back to their home nations. Captives—such as Hama, Tyro or the Boulder—were repatriated from the work camps they were imprisoned in.

Shrine consolidation was a Sozin policy of putting all shrines under direct monarchical control and turned over for use of the state religion—Agniyo, the religion of the ethnic majority (Shiboshi) Fire Nationals. Zuko begins a policy of Great Reversal, where these shrines are returned to their traditional stewards. The Intranational Sovereign Rights policies is the parent policy of the Great Reversal. The Fire Nation is home to 98 ethnic minority/indigenous groups (including the Sun Warriors and the Bhanti), with 106 recognized languages and dialects apart from Hokugo (the state language). These are all put under Special Status, where extra government protections and provisions are made to protect traditional Fire Nation diversity. Specifically, local councils are approved to use state funds to protect Status minority religions, languages, ecology/land, food, dance, and arts. The Sun Warriors in particular are given greater autonomy and sovereignty over their ancestral lands.

In 107 AG Zuko made an official declaration to renounce the millenia-old belief that the Liufeng dynasty is in any way divine, or descended from Agni. In apology for these centuries of disrespect towards Mother Agni, a new shrine in the capital of Kazanshi is announced; it is officially completed in 125 AG, and dedicated in 126.

Zaibatsu, vertically integrated business conglomerates, are dissolved; the businesses are put under monarchical control, and their assets are partially used for reparations paid towards the Water Tribes and Earth Kingdom. (Aang turned down reparations outside of help rebuilding Air Temples/shrines, and protections on sacred Air Nomad land, such as areas in Gansai and Whale Tale Island.) Land was seized from landlords and nobles, and sold to their serfs and tenets for extremely cheap prices. This is open to anyway once all serfs and tenant farmers have their share, which leads to some immigration from especially the southern Earth Kingdom.

Starting in 103, all war criminals are prosecuted under Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe officials at Omashu, which only ends in 119 AG, due to the thoroughness of the prosecution. Some critics from the Fire Nation claim that no Fire Nation representatives presented an unfair bias, and Why can’t it be held in the Royal High Courts? Zuko maintains that the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribe are a lot more merciful than he would be. Note: Iroh volunteered to be tried for the Siege of Ba Sing Se and his March on the Si Wong, even though King Kuei offered him immunity. He was given a postponed sentence of ten years; during this time, he would stay in his tea shop, and most of the money he made would go to helping Go Shi Wai, one of the worst-affected places of the war.

Gansai, later the United Republic, holds the largest number of Fire Nation settlers. This is due to an early Azulon resettlement policy, wherein ethnic minorities in the Fire Nation were resettled in Gansai and away from the imperial core, for Azulon’s All-Shiboshi Empire dream (the officials that ruled them were still Shiboshi, though). There are nearly 4m settlers living there; and since they’ve been outside of the Fire Nation for at least a generation, they are the least willing to move. Gansai was made independent in 115 AG through a referendum that went through every village, town, city, settlement in the region. Many Earth Kingdom citizens still consider this a humiliating capitulation to the Fire Nation, and resent King Kuei for allowing this.

Serfdom and slavery were abolished in the Fire Nation by 105 AG. Looted wealth is confiscated from the noble class, and repatriated to their home countries. The royal coffers do the same. Since the power of the noble class was severely weakened by these moves—and the removal of the zaibatsu system—many enraged nobles would attempt government takeovers—whether through the legals means of an Agni Kai, or through nine different assassination attempts from 105 AG to 127 AG. These, by the way, would only lead to legislation that weakened the noble class even more.

The Fire Nation educational system was technically reformed, though specifically. Zuko was looking to return the institution to its prewar systems, with some amendments. He took a lot of care for educational reforms, because he considered it ground zero for deradicalization policies. Teachers were screened and replaced when necessary; there was a national recall on textbooks, and Zuko commissioned a completely new curriculum. The military education of children from 11 to 16 stayed in place. The national examinations that gave people opportunities to work in government positions were opened up to the merchant and former self classes.

Protections and rights for same-sex couples are restored. Abortion is made legal. Funding goes back to the arts. Overall, Zuko’s policies mark a return to the cultural pursuits from before the war—especially in the arts, education and religion.

PART II

Once again: these are her activities that relate to her acting (somewhat) in capacity to traditional Fire Lady duties. However, a lot of her actions—even when acting as Fire Lady—are outside of traditional royal involvement, which is noteworthy. It should also be noted that she is not a part of the legislative body of the Fire Nation in any capacity, nor is she in any way given any sort of powers of making policies at an official capacity. To me, this doesn’t really matter, because I personally don’t think she’d be incredibly interested in dealing with Fire Nation legislative proceedings anyway, and it’s way more straight forward for her to just tell Zuko what she thinks would be a good idea since he can just enact it immediately. Not that she never influences policies through cooperation with Parliament, just that she normally chooses not to.

She specifically is known for her deep involvement with charity and patronages. She tends to focus on issues involving the homeless, youth, drug addictions, the elderly, environmental protections, illness and minority rights advocacy. It’s due to her nearly weekly visits to hospitals and health clinics across the Fire Nation (and sometimes abroad) that Katara gets very specifically interested in serious and terminal illnesses—the care of their patients, prevention and destigmatization. She’s especially famous for initiating physical contact towards patients with leprosy, to prove that leprosy could not be easily transmitted through casual touch—such as hugs and handholding.

She is president of the Taiyang-jie Childrens’ Clinic in the capital. She is a patroness of the Natural & Geologic Historical Society in Lopyang. She is president of the Royal Academies of Healthcare, Sociology & Philosophy, and Music & Theatre. She is president of the Gojiki Child Association, a charity to care for vulnerable tribal youth. She also works with the National Leprosy Trust, the Fire Nation Centre of Minority Dance and Theatre, and the Imperial Phoenix Hospital.

She was integral to the founding of Taqqittiavak, an international medical association, inspired by witnessing the calamity of war, and how there’s often not enough medics for the wounded, who are often left to suffer and die. She is a patron of the Three Nations’ Doctors League, a similar organization, though Taqqitiavak works in conflict zones, and 3ND in humanitarian crisis zones. She specifically works with them in an anti personnel landmine campaign. Her work directly leads to the signing of the Qiue Treaty to create an international ban on the use of landmines.

She makes regular lengthy visits to the Ruzuro-yeiji Hospital in Kemkami, where she specifically helps in the care and comfort for patients who are seriously or terminally ill—something royalty had never done before. She is a patronesses to the Imrani Cancer Fund, an international charity dedicated to cancer research.

She is the founder of Tunnganiq, an association dedicated to research and care for mental disabilities, especially those acquired in war or in accidents. She regularly supports efforts in the advancement of mental healthcare, institutional reform, and the stigmatization of all psychotic and neurotic disorders. She (and Toph) opened the Centre for Disability and the Arts in Republic City.

She is the patron of the Fire Nation branch of the Nutaraq Appeal, an international organization dedicated to helping pregnant women and new mothers in need around the world.

Katara (and Sokka) launch the International Child Bereavement charity, which seeks to support the children of: military families, children orphaned by war and conflict, children of suicide victims and children of the terminally ill. She and Sokka are also patrons of the Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center in Republic City.

She supports the Laiyi Fund, which is a parent fund to several smaller charity organizations that give accommodations and social assistance to the homeless, and campaigns to destigmatize homelessness worldwide. In general, Katara is very vocal and active in her support of homeless populations, and to end the conception of homelessness being a moral failing in the Fire Nation, especially by regularly working with the homeless directly, without any official means of protection. She supports the Just Homes Initiative in the United Republic, which seeks to “just house them” with no strings attached.

She was awarded the Freedom of Omashu Award, the highest honor in the Southern Earth Kingdom for her humanitarian efforts—as well as the Ba Sing Se Citizens’ Award and being awarded a gold medal in a healthcare conference in Piriyakheri.

PART III

To be honest, her marriage to Zuko really wasn’t a huge deal to most peasants in the Fire Nation—they were so far removed from royal life, that who the current Fire Lord is hardly mattered, let alone who the Fire Lady is. The middle class, especially in major cities like Kazanshi, Kenkami, Lopyang and Kimosaki, and the noble class (especially, much to her embarrassment, Mai’s family, the Keohsos—where the brides for the Fire Lord are traditionally found) were the most vocal in their disapproval of the idea of there being a foreign bride. What if the Fire Lord abandons them (a population that’s starving and struggling) for the South Pole? What if she roadblocks courtly promotions only to Water Tribe immigrants that will surely be used to replace the ethnic Fire Nation population? What if their heir is a waterbender, of all things? Most ire was reserved for Zuko, either way. The Fire Lady is hardly a consideration, at this point in time—the role is prestigious solely because she is the wife of the Fire Lord, who actually matters. Katara is who gives the position prestige and reverence beyond that, through her compassion, altruism and humanitarian efforts, which kind of gave the role of Fire Lady an entirely new role in greater Fire Nation society, outside of just running the household and being the head of the royal family, which doesn’t really affect regular citizens.

Besides, nobles who didn’t know better than to keep it to themselves were pretty readily dismissed from the court and removed from the Caldera—a hugely humiliating experience.

Their wedding is a big deal. Some agitators try to say that they’re wedding, in 106, is a flagrant extravagance when the whole nation is suffering—this is still more of an attack on Zuko, than Katara. The wedding, though a big royal wedding, is mostly used to help lighten the air for the population—it’s an excuse to be off of work for a week, to have fun celebrations, to be with family, to keep up with royal fashion, etc. It’s a reprivement.

Katara becomes somewhat of a fashion icon—not the biggest, by far, but especially her jewelry, accessories and hairstyles take the country by storm. It’s big enough that she’s able to auction off her old clothing and her own beadwork projects for thousands, which she would then donate to places she felt needed the most help. She alone is responsible for making smiling—especially smiling with your teeth—popular in the Fire Nation.

A lot of people really idealized her as a mother, with the way she was regularly seen walking her kids to and from school, and around the capital. She would participate in parent-student events in school, and was known to very rarely use nannies. Unlike other Fire Nation noblewomen, she never once used a nursemaid. She very regularly took her kids on holidays to the Southern Water Tribe. Non-racists in the Fire Nation really admire her dedication and loyalty to her origins and native land/practices. Racists thought she would teach her kids to look down on the Fire Nation and only care for the preservation of her homeland and culture.

A lot of people—especially older, more traditional folks—also thought she acted unbecomingly for a Fire Lady. She dresses casually in deels when not working in an official capacity, regularly goes off to do things without following royal protocol, smiles and waves to crowds and in photos. A lot of people criticize her speeches as being emotional and, occasionally, even hysterical. Her willingness to act outside of capacity and to do things that should be beneath her—in public—was especially condemned.

But overall, she’s been pretty popular from the beginning, and definitely went down as at least one of the most beloved Fire Ladies in history. If not the most.

#zutara #zutarian au #zk #katara and zuko #fire lady katara #ambassador katara adjacent #adult katara thoughts #i will make art of fire lady katara soon i promise #she is princess diana coded 😌#ask yikees

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