#they and the irony would Slay

[theclaravoyant]

in the interests of crowley and aziraphale being roped into more public displays of new old skills (hopefully ones they're actually good at this time) i propose duet-dualling Devil Went Down to Georgia

[felsicveins]

5f + depressed orange + dave strider or leo ? 👀

Kisses!! Kisses for you!!! Also he 1000% wears the Velcro ironically

[jdsmineralwater]

the things i would do to be in a production of we are the tigers

i am on a huge we are the tigers kick rn if you didnt notice

[sacredsorceress]

Spell on You / Logan Howlett

pairing: bestfriend!logan x f!witch!reader summary: when logan finds out another man bought you a drink at a halloween party, your relationship changes word count: 2.2k a/n: scott is an ass because i just know movie!cyclops would love to mess with logan's love life ('97 scott stays too busy for this). this is a bit rushed but i hope you enjoy!! warnings: reader wears a dress and thigh highs (slay), alcohol consumption, mention of smoke, jealousy, fluff, classic bff to lovers trope

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The bum. bum. bum. of the music echoed throughout the establishment, vibrating against its walls and floorboards. The sea of bar-crawlers intent on having the worst of hangovers in the morning were shoulder to shoulder, bumping against Logan as he made his way through the crowd to you.

The room reeked of smoke of various kinds and if it hadn't been for the overworking of the fans above, Logan was sure he would've gotten high secondhand. But it was Halloween night- certain factors were out of his control.

Though, like a lighthouse in the night, Logan heard your voice beckoning him over to the bar.

"Boooooooo!" You shouted, glass in your hand. "You were supposed to dress up!"

Logan smirked at your complaint, leaning against the bar.

"Yeah?" He asked. "'Cause you're so original?"

Logan's eyes trailed from your thigh high boots to your dress to finally, a witch's hat. Being a witch yourself, the irony was unavoidable.

"Very creative, sweetheart."

You felt a heart skip a beat at your best friend's pet name.

In shock of many, you and Logan had become fast friends. The man who had always managed to have a perpetually grumpy demeanor about him had paired perfectly with you. You were able to brush off Logan's jokes, matching them with your own in a way that had escalated so far as to make your fellow X-Men wonder if the two of you had begun to speak your own language.

"At least it's a costume, Logan." You argued. "What are you meant to be?"

"-Oh I've got this one."

Scott.

Any inclination of joy written on Logan's face was quickly erased.

"A dick?" Scott said, slinging his arm around your shoulder. "I've gotta say Logan, you've nailed it."

Logan rolled his eyes, inching closer to the two of you as a couple nudged against him to order at the bar. Noting the drink in your hand, Logan shifted the conversation.

"I thought I told you I was buying tonight?"

Your eyes lowered from Logan's to the drink in your hand. You traced the rim of the glass as you shrugged.

"Oh this-“

Scott interrupted:

"Guy over there bought it for her." Scott said, a shit-eating grin on his face as he pointed to the opposite end of the establishment. "Told her he'd be back later 'to get to know her better'."

You felt yourself grow warm under Logan's gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

Lately yours and Logan's relationship had become more complicated, blurring the lines between friendship and something more. Pet names like sweetheart and princess flowed out of his mouth without a second thought. You had stopped going on dates with new men- something about it feeling wrong when you and Logan had... whatever you had. He was your best friend, that you were sure of. But, with Logan's eyes burning a hole through you, you wondered if he still felt that way.

You had been hoping to keep the drink a secret and avoid speaking to the man later in the night, but you should've known that Scott and Logan's rivalry would make any chance of that impossible.

Logan's eyes trailed from you to the man Scott was pointing to across the room. He looked about your age, dressed with a cloak around his shoulders and a pair of cheap plastic teeth slipping from his mouth as he laughed with his friends.

Logan scowled, raising his eyebrow at you.

"You into... that?"

You shrugged, hiding your eyes beneath the rim of your hat.

"It's just a drink, Logan." You said. "He probably forgot about me anyway."

Holding his gaze, Logan slowly nodded, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"You want your usual?"

You furrowed your eyebrows.

"What are you talking about, Lo?" You asked. "I have a drink."

Logan shook his head, tapping his fingers against the bar to get the bartender's attention.

"I'm not gonna sit here and watch you have some other guy's drink." Logan said firmly. "Now, what are you having? 'Cause you either tell me, or I'm ordering for you."

You felt a burning sensation in your chest as your pulse quickened.

You were used to Logan's stubbornness and protective regard for those he cared about, but you had never seen him so firm with you before. You were someone who could handle yourself and as much as he worried about you, he had never claimed you in such a way as he did now.

If you hadn't known better, you would have thought he was jealous.

"My usual."

You watched as he leaned over the bar, ordering the both of your drinks from the bartender.

The lighting in the bar was dim. Most of the things that you could make out were highlighted by an array of multicolored LED lights that had been flickering throughout the room.

The light above Logan's head flicked from green to purple, showcasing the sheen of sweat that had begun running down his temple from the capacity of the party. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow, the veins in his arms protruding as he leaned against the counter top.

Sometimes you wondered what it felt like- to be one of the women who had the opportunity to touch Logan. You had had passing touches here and there but you wondered if you could feel the weight of his adamantium bones in your hand- whether his skin remained rough despite his regenerative abilities.

The thoughts were cruel. He was your friend.

But then again, were you really his?

Logan handed you your drink, leaning the small of his back against the counter. Gingerly taking the glass from his hands, your fingertips graced his skin.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, feeling the vibrations of the DJ's music against your feet. You listened to indistinguishable chatter rattle throughout the building.

"He said he liked the 'juxtaposition of my face to the costume'." You said, referring to the man who bought you a drink. "I'm not even sure that he used the word right."

A smirk rose onto Logan's face.

"What a dick." Logan scoffed, nursing his whiskey.

You laughed along with him, nudging your elbow into his side.

"He is, isn't he?" You joked. "I bet he's super pretentious."

Logan glanced down at you, noticing the small smile that graced your lips as you met his eyes.

God, he felt silly. He was over two hundred years old and yet, he found himself with a crush on a woman and unable to tell her. With anyone else, he would have made a move the second he saw them. But you were his friend- his closest friend.

You had a relationship that meant more to him than anything in his life. Did he want you? Yes, but he wasn't going to be the one to admit it and scare you off. It had to be you.

So Logan put out his feelers and afforded himself plausible deniability- calling you sweetheart, buying you drinks... sitting by your side after a mission went sideways. However, there was something about the two of you sharing a life in the mansion that made him forget that other men could see you the way that he did.

Seeing the multicolored lights illuminate your skin and the way your eyelashes batted as you smiled up at him, Logan was reminded that he didn't have forever.

"Not your thing?" He asked.

Logan asked it casually. He was still leaned over the bar, but his body had turned to encase yours- one arm snaking itself around your back while the other held the whiskey glass.

The space between you grew hot and you could feel his warm breath against your face. The scent of the cologne that you had gotten him for his birthday drifted up your nose as he hovered closer.

Sometimes you felt that Logan was off living a dozen lifetimes in his head despite standing directly in front of you, but here... now... his focus was entirely on you and you knew he was waiting on your answer with bated breath.

You don't know whether it was the liquor or the realisation that the wolverine had placed you at the center of his universe, but you gained a confidence you had lacked in the weeks since your relationship shifted.

Glancing at his empty glass, you flicked your hand, filling it up.

"No," You sighed as your eyes trailed up his body. "I like them a bit... rougher around the edges."

This, Logan decided, was your sign. You were pushing the boundaries just as he had done, seeing if he'd take the bait.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he leaned in further. The music in the bar was getting increasingly louder as the night went on and Logan's lips were now inches from your ear, sending goosebumps down your neck.

"That right?" Logan asked.

"Mhm."

Logan could hear your heart pounding in your chest and felt peace in knowing that his was doing the same. This wasn't the same as his other ventures- he wouldn't wake up in the morning to find an empty space in his mattress where you had been the night before. What you two had would be permanent, he told himself; a fixture in an otherwise chaotic life like his.

In the life of a man with regeneration, he rarely worried about what happened next. But with his lips grazing the skin of the woman he loved most, Logan could feel a drop of whiskey hit his skin- fallen from the glass that sat in his shaking hand.

Then, he felt your hands push gently against his chest. And his world came crashing down.

Your eyes meeting his, you shook your head.

"I love you, Logan."

For anyone else, this would've been confirmation. But Logan had heard these words from you a hundred times. You loved him... platonically. He felt the wind knocked out of him at what he thought was resignation.

Pulling away, Logan nodded.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Hearing him say it in the same voice he always did- the dismissive tone meant to mask any indication of care- you gripped his shirt, forcing him to look at you.

"No." You said firmly. "I love you. I'm saying this can't be a one night thing, Logan. I love you."

Logan saw the desperation in your eyes and couldn't hold back. He slammed his drink against the bar and held your face in his hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, thinking that as silly as it was, what he had been waiting for was finally happening. No matter the amount of times he had touched you, this time was different. As strong as you were, he was afraid to ruin the precious object he was holding in his hands- you and your future.

Logan swore your cheeks were softer and the scent of your perfume had wrapped himself around your finger.

"Say it back, Lo."

The sound of his name rolling off your tongue was enough confirmation he needed. Pulling your face to his, Logan's lips crashed against yours.

Your fingers never left his shirt, pulling him closer to you as you hummed into the kiss. Logan's hands moved to lay against your waist. The noise of the bar fell away as Logan focused on your breathing and the skip of your heartbeat as he squeezed you tighter.

When he heard the familiar, hypnotic hum of your magic, he pulled away only slightly.

In the heat of your kiss, a forcefield had formed around the two of you. When you noticed the golden shimmer of your magic, you pulled your hands way from Logan, bringing the forcefield down with it.

"Sorry."

Logan smirked.

"Don't gotta be worried," He said, running his thumb against your cheek. "You're safe with me."

Logan wasn't sure if he'd be able to always keep you safe in the hectic life that you two shared, but he would be damned if he wouldn't die trying. You two fit together like pieces of a puzzle and although he wasn't sure how it would work, if one thing was for sure- you weren't losing him.

"I love you too."

Holding you in his hands, the knowledge finally settling in that you were his, this dingey bar was the last place he wanted to be.

And it was as if you read his mind.

"Can we get out of here?"

Glancing around the room, Logan noticed two things: one being that half the eyes in the room were on you since your accidental forcefield, and the other, Scott barreling over through a crowd of college girls towards you. These two things paired with the fact that the woman of his dreams was standing beside him, Logan was more than ready to, kindly, get the fuck out of there.

Logan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and guided you out of the bar.

"That's my girl."

author's note: thank you for reading! just a short lil oneshot for spooky season

[dolicekiss]

From Friend To Foe

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Strong!fem!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), noncon, virgin!reader, possessive aemond, friends to enemies, childhood friends, reader is from house strong, dragon riding (also riding Aemond), unprotected sex (p in v), forced kissing, breeding, angst, threats, humiliation, reader has dark hair, hair pulling, slapping, cunnilingus, mention of forced marriage, attempted murder.

SYNOPSIS: Aemond and you were childhood friends, you being the daughter of a lord and him being the Targayen prince. When the Greens and Blacks went against each other, your father’s sworn fealty to the blacks became an obstacle in your friendship and when your father was defeated, army overthrown — you were taken prisoner, kneeled before the Targaryen prince who was once your closest friend.

Swords clashed, dragon roared and knights fell after fighting bravely.

All you could do was sit idle in your room and await the promise of a better future. Only it did not come and when silence haunted the grounds of Harrenhal and everything came to a halt, you were certain your family had lost the fight.

You were mere humans, with no possession of such an almighty being.

Dragons were Gods. To be worshiped and prayed — and one was prominently flying over the remains of Harrenhal.

Belonging to none other than Aemond Targaryen, who was once your beloved friend with whom you dreamt of riding on a dragon.

Aemond had promised you when you were younglings. A promise that once he has claimed himself a dragon, you would be the first person he'd take for a flight.

The irony of the situation broke your heart.

The same dragon had left your castle and people in ruins — Vhagar’s loud wails filling up the sky with terror. You knew very well that now your army had fallen, your father definitely slain, you were going to face the same fate as many women during war did.

A prisoner, meat for Aemond’s men.

The door was slammed open and you turned around in a swift motion, finding your servant standing there. A look of horror adorning her once serene features. “It is done. The Targaryen prince has won and we are the only ones left.”

Tears blurred your vision. You did not remember reaching for the sharp blade which you had placed on your side table, an escape from all the atrocities you would eventually be forced to face by the hands of your own closest friend.

War was war.

And with the stories of Aemond’s cruelty circulating about, you knew very well than to beg for mercy or even expect it. Long gone was the sweet prince who made you promises of protection, a dragon and long lasting friendship.

He was your foe now.

An enemy who had slayed the men of your house, your own blood.

As you attempted to cut your own throat, a hand prevented you from doing so. Guards, of house Targaryen. Your face paled and your tears finally rushed down your face in glossy streaks, your one chance of escape taken from you.

The men restrained you but you screamed, struggled even. To break free and somehow draw the blade closer to your throat, only a small cut and you would disappear. You did not care if this was considered weak, you were willing to do just about anything to keep your dignity and honor.

To not be some slave for a man to put his cock in.

“Stay still, woman!” One of the guards berated you but you didn't listen, worming in their grasp.

“Let me go! Release me, right now.” Your screams echoed in the expanse of your chamber as well as the castle and Aemond heard them too.

He had ordered the demise of everyone, everyone besides you. There was this ache, this need to lay his eye upon you for the first time in awhile. Last time he saw you when you were nine, a beautiful little girl who often came to the red keep with her father — member of the council.

Aemond and your friendship flourished when you defended him against Aegon, comforting him to not lose all hope for a dragon. It was you who encouraged him, who provided him with the mental strength to claim Vhagar.

Your words of strength lingered in the back of his mind when he took claim of the largest dragon.

And now he had caused destruction with the same dragon.

Fate had brought you both to this. Ruined every good thing which was left in his life and he knew that you would never, ever forgive him for destroying your home.

You were kind, loving, sweet. Rebellious too but always stood your ground and believed in achieving justice, by any means. Aemond wondered how you'd grown, how you appeared as an adult now.

Did you braid your dark hair the same way as his Targaryen sister did, since you'd grown so fond of their silver hair? Were your eyes still the same onyx dark as your hair, a stark contrast to his own purple ones and was your choice in clothes still so dreadful? Curiosity pinched at his abdomen.

Your screams boomed through Harrenhal and Aemond felt proud of your resistance, only he had no knowledge of what you were resisting for so prominently.

He had no idea all your desperation and fight was to end your life.

The guards pulled you apart, their blood stained hands managing to rip off the side of your dress which concealed your shoulder during all the commotion to get you to release the blade. You somehow managed to free yourself from one of the guard’s unbearable grip and slashed his face with the blade.

“Ah, you fucking bitch.” He screamed, holding his face with one hand while the other tried to reach for you.

Another guard extracted his revenge, striking you across your face and tugging at the already torn fabric, exposing more of your back.

Your face contorted in pain, wishing to rid yourself off this world. “Don't fucking touch me. Unhand me and I will slaughter you lot like pigs.”

Your threats were larger than your size and some guards found you amusing while some knew you were capable of what you had promised them. A hand reached for your wrist, to tame it but not being able to pry open your clingy fingers around the dagger with all their strength.

Your fingers had paled, losing all their pink hue and the blood had stopped pumping through the small veins. That was how strong your grip around the weapon was.

Being carried down the stairs, your gaze took in the sight of the place that was once your home. Broken and hopeless, you were dragged along to the main hall. Rain pattered over the stones, causing a nauseating feeling in your stomach as you took in the situation of your castle.

Thankfully, your blurry vision did not allow you to take more of the destruction. All you noticed was the daunting figure of your enemy, standing pridefully at the center of the hall, awaiting your arrival.

You were pushed towards someone, forced on your knees and the silky silver strands gave away at the person's identity. Prince Aemond Targaryen stood before you, with his back turned to you and hands clasped behind his back.

You attempted to gather the pieces of your torn dress, holding it over your chest since it was ripped evidently in the back. Aemond upon turning around, did not expect you to be in such ruins. Dress torn apart, dark hair all but a mess and he caught glimpse of the silver rings encircled around your strands.

Now in a complete frenzy.

The same silver you always wore in your hair, around your little braids.

Aemond glanced up at his guards and then back at you, watching you. Demeanor phlegmatic, lips sitting tediously on his face.

You didn't dare to lift up your eyes. It wasn't about possessing enough courage to look him in the eye but having no self control. You knew deep down if you looked at him, you'd lose all control and attack him.

“I don't recall ordering you lot to bring her in such a..” Aemond tilted his head, analyzing the state you were in. “disheveled state.”

“She fought back a lot, my Prince. Intended to cut her throat with that little blade of hers in her hand.” Aemond was slightly taken aback from the revelation but you were right to choose that as an option. Everyone in this room knew what happened to women during war, especially the beautiful ones such as yourself.

The highborns were craved more as they carried noble blood within them.

His one eye fell upon the blade you still held with great vigor in your hand and Aemond nearly snickered. You had not let go of that adamant personality of yours, carrying it with you in adulthood.

Aemond did not like how your beautiful skin was exposed to the lecherous eyes of his guards. This abrupt jealousy even left him bemused for a moment, nonetheless he diverted his attention back to you.

He stepped closer — frame towering over yours and you saw the perfect moment to attack him. A feeble and thoughtless action but it was either succumbing to horrors or extracting revenge. In a fraction of mere seconds, you had risen up from your knees and headed for him with the pointy end of the dagger in his direction.

The guards reached for you and before you could possibly injure the Prince regent, his fingers enveloped your wrist. With potent strength and fast reflexes, Aemond held you in place. A mischievous glint flashed in his one good eye, lips curving up in a malicious smirk.

He saw the raw hatred and hunger for revenge in your eyes — your hand unwavering and stable. You meant the attack. Nowhere was it under the sad emotions of losing your family.

“Bold of you to assume this would work on me, Dōna.” Aemond whispered, face only a few inches apart from yours. Only the dagger separating you. You acknowledged the name he'd called you, from when you were children and the anger inside you was fuelled more. (Sweet)

“Have I not trained in front of you, hm? Did you not see me wield a sword whenever you stayed in the red keep?”

You glared at him. “I will kill you, either with poison or with a dagger. It is my promise to you, tyrant.”

“From raqiros to tyrant? You truly have grown, my Dōna.” He whispered malevolently, his warm breath with its own mind caressing the bridge of your nose, nearly with affectionate. (Friend)

Having spent most of your childhood in the red keep with the targaryens, especially Aemond, he was bound to teach you some high valyrian. You knew what raqiros meant, but he had never unveiled the meaning behind the nickname he gave you. Promising you he would once you two are grown enough.

Aemond looked up from your face to his men who stood on guard. Three of them, big and broad. His eyes raked over their hands and as he imagined those same hands mishandling you, ripping away at your clothes and prying open the corset which held your dress together, his jaw clenched.

“Ser Criston Cole,” he called out and the commander responded, head held high.

Aemond’s hand still prevented you from moving an inch, the pointy end of the dagger only a few inches away from his glistening, pale cheek.

“Behead them.” It was a simple command but it instilled fear in everyone in the room, including you. Even the commander was surprised by such a gruesome order and dared to ask. “Forgive me, my Prince but why?”

Aemond locked gaze with you. “They dared to lay hands on my prize, unveiled her dignity.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the Commander nodded, passing the order to his other guards. You heard the sounds of constant struggle, similar to yours as their pleas to live fell upon deaf ears.

“My Prince, please! Spare us, we were only acting upon your order!”

They were ignored, as Aemond continued to stare at you. His purple eye dropping to your lips for a second. He released you and you, on instinct, stepped back with the dagger still in your hand. It was proven that combat was definitely not how you could take down the prince.

Aemond had forced you to come along to the premises of Harrenhal, where his dragon rested. Strained and tired from the war she had indulged in. You had never seen Vhagar up close but knew that she was the second largest dragon, her first rider being Visenya Targaryen.

Your lips shuddered the more closer you were pulled next to the sleeping dragon.

“She can smell fear.” Aemond reminded you, staring ahead. “Conceal it unless you wish to burn to ashes.”

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes and hoping to put an end to the growing fear in the presence of Vhagar.

When you opened your eyes, you were more calm now and in the right state of mind to admire the beast’s beauty. She was gorgeous, a shade of bronze mixed with green and blue highlights. Green, fierce eyes staring ahead and you would have congratulated Aemond on claiming a dragon if only the circumstances were different.

“You will ride with me to King’s Landing.”

“I will not.” You spat, taking a step back from him. That didn't seem to please Aemond as he closed the distance between you and grasped your arm, holding you in place. “Yes, you will.”

“I would rather be fed to your hounds than ride with you upon the back of the dragon which destroyed my home.” Your tone was venomous, full of anger and spite. Aemond knew there was no way calming you down or ridding you of your anger, so he did the next best thing that came to mind.

His slim hands slithered across your waist as he picked you up, settling you down on the dragon’s back. Vhagar released a roar and Aemond whispered something to her in high valyrian, causing her to calm down. Her head settling down, to rest.

He moved in front of you, taking a seat as well. “Hold on tight.”

You glued your hands to your sides, completely ignoring him. Aemond released a frustrated growl at your adamant behavior and lack of pliancy. He reached behind to grab your arms with his gloved hands, forcefully circling them around his small waist.

“Let go of me.” You struggled and Aemond looked back at you with irritation all over his beautiful face. “Do you wish to succumb to your death by falling? If so, feel free to let go.”

That was a lie as Aemond had already tied you to him with the brown belt — locking you with him. Even if you were to let go of him, his body weight restricted on his dragon would prevent you from falling and eventually meeting your demise. This was merely to get you to touch him.

To feel you against him, with little to no distance.

Your lips settled in a frown as you tightened your hold around him causing Aemond to grin. He patted his dragon’s back and then spoke. “Sōvēs, Vhagar.” (Fly)

The dragon shifted on its legs, preparing for the flight and you gasped when you felt it move more beneath you. Subconsciously, your fingers gripped the leather tunic of Aemond, chest pressing tightly over his broad back. Terror filled you as the dragon finally took flight, its huge wings flapping and the force of it made you realize how easy it must have been for Aemond to ruin your house.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, closing your lids shut and burying your face in Aemond’s shoulders.

This is exactly how he had anticipated your first ride on a dragon with him all these years, how you'd react to the beast moving and roaring. Your subtle touches, adorable reactions and soft sounds were just as Aemond had pictured them in his mind.

And he was fulfilling his promise to you.

Until now, Aemond never allowed anyone to ride with him. Only you were the exception and as gruesome the enmity between the two of you was, he could not simply suppress the overwhelming feelings he'd always harbored.

“Aemond..” You whispered, as the dragon took flight and it left you screaming. “Aemond! I'm fucking terrified.”

One hand holding onto his seat, the other reached over and settled on your hand around his chest. In an attempt to comfort you as Vhagar flew into the depths of the sky, Harrenhal nothing but a small scenery when you opened your eyes to look down at it.

A lone tear slid down your face.

This was not how you wished to ride with Aemond.

You hated him, disgust all over your face when you noticed how little and inferior everything appeared from up here. No wonder the Targaryens burned people and houses, as they felt superior being this close to Gods than the rest of you.

“Calm down, Dōna.” He said to you when his dragon had finally flew for King’s Landing.

You didn't say anything, only loosened your hold around him after realizing how awfully close were you to him.

Aemond noticed that and didn't like it.

“Vēzot, Vhagar. Vēzot.” Upon hearing Aemond’s command, the dragon changed route and flew high up in the air, going up tearing through the grey clouds. In fear of falling, your arms once again found themselves around the dragon rider’s small waist. (Up)

You had no idea what Aemond had said but it made his dragon fly up, defying gravity and leaving you gasping for air.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Aemond relished in the feeling of power he had over you and the power he'll soon have over others too. It was painfully evident his brother was incompetent and if something were to befall him, it would be Aemond next in line to inherit the throne.

Never did you ever think or expect that you would be brought back to the red keep as a prize, a symbol of victory — a slave most definitely for Aemond after how he behaved last time with the guards last time. He did not allow anyone to look at you, to touch you, besides your maidens who helped you doll up for the Prince.

His possessiveness was very well known to you when you both were children but you had expected him to grow out of it. How foolish of you to assume that.

Aemond was a possessive child. You recalled the time where he had forbade his siblings from playing with you — or when he did not let anyone touch his sword or even wield it. You remembered how the future lord of Casterly Rock was treated only because he had dared to pass a compliment to Aemond’s sword.

You could hear the cheers of the smallfolk and it disgusted you. He only won against you and your family, not the Blacks. It repulsed you how he was supporting a usurper and not the rightful heir. Your father died for the cause of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would do too in a heartbeat.

You were lead inside the Red keep after the notorious flight with Aemond. The Prince’s orders were to his servants were to lead you to his own chambers and clean you up. You had no idea why, but you were not going to comply easily.

“I am not your mistress.” Your voice boomed loudly in the main hall, causing Aemond’s footsteps to come to a halt. “Neither am I your whore. Kill me because I too support Rhaenyra Targaryen’s claim to the throne. I shall die a honorable death as my father and kin did.”

You had dared to speak to him, like that, in the presence of not only the Queen but even the other council members.

Aemond’s hands balled up into fits. “Take her.”

You were forcefully dragged somewhere while you struggled, piercing screams enough to damage one's ears. Before you were pulled in a corridor, you made a promise. “I will get my revenge, Aemond Targaryen. You shall answer for the blood of my family that stains your hands. I will never forgive you!”

Alicent followed her son, your threats still lingering in her mind. You had screamed them with tremendous agony and will. She worried, for the kingdom.

“Do you believe you would be doing the realm anything good by bringing a blood thirsty enemy here?” Alicent questioned as she followed Aemond into the room where the council took place.

His fists shook, with poorly tamed rage. “She is anything but a weak girl.”

Alicent scoffed. “She is openly screaming threats. Either a fool would do that or a person who has got absolutely nothing to lose, Aemond.”

“Her screams will quiet down once I have managed to put a child in her.” Aemond spat at his mother, placing his sword down on the table.

She was appalled at what her son had evolved into. The monster he'd become and somewhere she doubted her own motherly skills.

You were forced into a beautiful, pale dress – the fabric as thin as a sheer curtain – after your bath. The maids obviously did not provide you with anything which could conceal your body in the see through white dress. It had embroidery done on the front, so it somewhat worked to cover your breasts.

But the longer it extended, the more it revealed everything underneath.

Pieces of your wavy dark hair were pinned behind, some braided with silver rings clipped around.

The maids soon excused themselves, leaving you to your solitude. Your body felt cold from the lack of clothes so you moved over to stand before the fireplace. Arms sliding up and down your frame to warm up yourself.

Truth to be told, you were suffering with trepidation. Were you prepared to sleep, to head to bed? But why in Aemond’s chambers? All sorts of vile and impure thoughts came rushing in your mind as you tried to keep them at bay.

The doors were soon opened and there stood Aemond, in a different set of clothes. You immediately stepped back, albeit him standing far away from you. He noticed that but no matter how many walls you tried to build between you two, Aemond was determined to break and crush each and every one of those.

He appeared enamored with you.

You were nothing less than an angel, standing underneath the moonlight illuminating your frame.

“Is this what you brought me here for, Prince Regent? To dress me up and warm your bed late at night?” You questioned with disgust and Aemond stepped froward.

You immediately retreated. “Do not dare to come any closer. I will not be one of your whores.”

“What makes you think I would let you become one of my whores?” Aemond asked with a soft tone. Your beauty had soothed all his irritation but it also ignited a fire within his core.

“You're a monster.” You whispered. “You have become a tyrant, a beast worse than those dragons of yours. It is a pity.”

Aemond was losing his patience with you. He didn't waste time, snapping and running towards you. The man pinned you against the wall, knocking over a vase resting on a table besides you. Pain bloomed in your back from the hardness of the wall — and being slammed into it.

The targaryen man locked eyes with you and let out a smile of satisfaction, witnessing the fear swimming in your innocent gaze. “Pity? You dare pity me when you are left with nothing of your house, nothing.”

The cruel reminder caused tears to well up in your eyes but your gaze stayed locked with Aemond’s. It did not waver and with all your strength, you pushed him away from you.

“I hate you.” You confessed, tears sliding down your face, a testament to the pain you were battling. “You were my friend, my fucking friend. How could you do this to me, to me? Your fucking Dōna, Aemond.”

When he heard the high valyrian word escape your lips, he growled. You saw him take a step further and this time decided to make a run for the door, trying to crawl over the bed hastily but Aemond was fast, vigilant as he grabbed you.

You fought back, slapping and punching him but it didn't work at all. He shoved his lips against yours and he did not care that you didn't want this. He wanted it, that was all that mattered. Aemond’s tongue forcefully entered your mouth as your hands continuously punched his chest.

He pushed you down on the both whilst staying locked to you, tasting your plump lips with vigor.

Head tilted, he pushed open your thighs and buried his knee between them. Rutting it against your cunt and you released a muffled cry in the liplock, hoping he would show some mercy but Aemond was too far gone.

The pressure on your clit – sheer fabric the cause of you and Aemond’s separation – was intense. A burgeoning need lighting up in your core as you struggled. There was no way you would give in, no matter how much you had admired him when you both were children. You knew better. You were only the daughter of some lord, meanwhile he was the Prince.

The fight for dominance was already won by Aemond as his tongue explored the inside of your sweet flesh. He broke apart from you to gaze upon you, a mess he'd turned you into. Face flushed, lips swollen and bloodied from how harshly he had sunk his canines into them.

Your dark hair with glinting silver in pure disarray, spread about everywhere on the bed. Aemond was fucking drunk and there was no stopping him.

“You said I'm a monster, right?” His voice was eerily low, causing you to panic. “I shall show you what monstrosity I am capable of.”

He tore the dress in a single tug, discarding the two pieces somewhere on the ground. Fear evident in your enlarged eyes as you struggled to conceal yourself with your arms but Aemond held them above your head, his fingers roughly pressing into your skin leaving marks.

“Aemond, please.” Tears fell and Aemond nearly softened.

If you'd been kind to him like how you were in the past, this compromising situation wouldn't have fallen you. He would've let you live, be a maid in the red keep but now, he had to prove it to you.

Just what he was capable of.

“Aemond,” you sweetly called out, hoping it would work. “My prince, don't do this. You do not wish to do this.”

“Too late for that sweet tone, my lady. If you do not wish for worse, I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth and take it.” His voice was so soft, so low but his words were as repulsive and cruel. It was what Aemond had become. A broken boy who sought out solace but was too afraid to ask for it, fearful of seeming weak — yet again becoming a target of his brother’s constant bullying.

In the process of becoming what he hated, Aemond lost you too.

One eye raked over your exposed breasts, full and round. You were no longer the little girl who used to chase him around the red keep, in her long dresses. You had flourished, flowered with grown tits and when his eye fell lower, he inhaled sharply. Plush, meaty thighs greeted them. He recalled how at one point you were as skinny as a boy, with no fat to your lean frame.

Now you had blossomed in a beautiful woman.

Your skin glowed neath the moonlight, your presence basking in its light. It showcased all the little minorities your features carried, what you had become, the delicate beauty that you were.

“You are certainly no little girl no more.” He reminded you, words no less than salt over your sounds.

Tears pearled on your waterline. “And you've grown into a fine man yourself.”

Your words were carried on obvious pain and Aemond pretended he did not catch a whiff of that. You continued, with a wavering voice, drained from all your rebellion and fight. “Fine but cruel, Aemond. I thought you were different, ought to be different. You proved me wrong.”

“Keep your lips sealed.” Aemond commanded, as your words nearly made his will to defile you falter. Being the daughter of a high lord, he was certain your maidenhead was still intact. You were never the type to engage in lecherous actions before the pure promise of a marriage.

Aemond’s rough hands took a handful of your breasts, fondling the fat. Thumbs swiping over your peebles, sending them upright. Undeniable pleasure shot through your body in the form of swarming heat as it settled in your lower stomach. A prominent gasp tore from your parted, swollen lips as Aemond stared at you in adoration.

“They are so full.” His comment about your body your pleasure-clad face form into one of grimace. “I wonder how your cunt looks now that you are older. You were always too innocent to consider our friendship anything more than what it was.”

Your back arched off the bed, the writhing of your hips increasing whenever Aemond rubbed his knee over your tiny pearl. You felt it swell up with need and wanton, a dull ache growing, begging to be burned out. The silver haired male pried your thighs open to lay eye on your pink cunt.

Aemond licked a wet tongue over his lips, his hunger to taste your seemingly delicious core pressing at him. He never once got overwhelmed with the urge to put his mouth on a woman's cunt — as the woman he got involved with whores. He had no interest in tasting something where most men found solace in.

But you were a virgin.

He knew that.

Yet he asked, surely to rile you up. “Has anyone been inside of you yet?”

Your eyes widened at the repulsive question of his. Brows scrunching in disgust and the rosette on your cheeks transcending into beetroot. Before you could control your imminent action, a strike echoed in the chambers. Tears had stalled, replaced with a hateful searing look and when Aemond recovered from the slap and faced you, chills enveloped you. Despite the impact, he was still poised. Eyes sheened with darkness and pure rage, his hand moved to reciprocate the harsh movement.

Only his slap hurt more — a scorching sensation awakening below your skin. A hint of red in the form of a hand imprinted on your face.

“Answer my question.”

You shook your head. Not only had the slap worked wonders to make you more pliant, it also made you realize that what Aemond was capable of.

His fingers ran along the line of your plumped up lips. “Use this pretty mouth of yours.”

“I'm not a low born.” You said through gritted teeth. “I'm chaste. Check for yourself if you are disbelieving of me.”

Aemond let out a scoff, fingers dimpling into your cheeks. The angry pout on your lips along with his hand print left behind on your cheek made you look ten times more endearing to him. “That I plan on doing, my lady.”

Hands lowering to your thighs, fingers dipping in the thickness. Aemond nestled his head between them, eyes gliding over your glistening cunt. It was true that you were still chaste and he was sure of it, there was no need to check it. He softly ran his tongue over your pearl, a sharp breath from you entering his ears.

“I don't want this.” Your tone had a hint of plea in it. “Please, Aemond. It is too repulsive, I cannot—”

Aemond growled. “Cannot, what? You cannot allow my cock inside you? Cannot allow me to put a babe in you? Or won't allow me to simply because I'm Aemond.”

“Targaryen with the largest dragon who put an end to my family line.” You finished, vision blurring. Aemond knew this conversation was pointless to carry and he instead closed his lips around your swollen bud, suckling like it would produce the sweetest of nectars in existence.

You tried to fight him off, pushing at his shoulders with the little strength left in your small fingers to no avail. He sucked with great vigor and your demeanor fell — back rising up from the ruined mattress and hips pushing your mound further into his cage. He pulled back, lapping at your swollen clit over and over again, like a dog in heat. Tears furiously caressed down your face as Aemond’s fingers came to collect your arousal from the center of your folds.

By the Gods, you were a waterfall.

“Never did I think I would grow this addicted to the taste of a woman's cunt.” Aemond whispered, his warm breath shooting jolts of pleasure through you. Your hand on its own accord pressed onto his head, palm flaccid and fingers twisting his Targaryen strands around. “The more I taste you, the more famished I become.”

“G-Get off me.” You somehow managed to utter. You were mortified. How your body ached for him to continue, hand forcing his mouth against your hot heat whilst the heavy fists of your morals thudded on the door of your hazed mind.

All but a futile endeavor to fight back.

Aemond pulled back and reached for his slacks, undoing them. You watched with a dazed out look as he released his cock from the confines of his breeches. His fingers moving to curve under the hem of his shirt, ridding himself of the leather as well as his small clothes.

Left bare and naked before you, your gaze caught Aemond’s searing red cock. Head swollen and shining with leaking cum, veins traced up and down. You closed your eyes, in hopes that the nightmare before you would be over but that was only you losing last remnants of your hope.

“I-It won't fit.” You whispered to yourself, more tears sliding down your temples.

Aemond heard it, despite your voice being a low whisper. He reached over to grab your face between his large hand, fingers sinking into your cheeks. That caused you to flutter your weak lids open, staring back at him with a sheen in your pupils. “It will fit. Your maidenhead is still intact, so it might be painful. But who cares?”

Your bottom lip quivered as Aemond let go, holding his cock. He guided it across your wet slit, pushing its thick head past your folds and pressing into your pearl. Your breath was bated, perspiration dancing on your forehead. Your body had grown completely warm and you wished for someone, anyone to burn down the fire which was ignited in the fireplace.

Aemond gathered your arousal, in soft circulation around your pebble. You whined out, hands slapping at his broad shoulders to put an end to his obscenities. Yet he did not falter, will growing more profound and strengthened to a point of no return.

He soon aligned his cock along your hole with the disgusting intention to defile it and slipped in. Your walls squeezing around his cock head tightly, endeavoring to grow used to the size but Aemond did not wait. He pushed and your tears of sadness had now transformed into tears of pain.

Hot searing pain.

“It hurts, it hurts. Let me go, please let me go.” You cried, screamed even, nails scratching rapidly at his chest. You left evidence of your firmness, of your distaste for such degeneration. Long lacerations formed on a pale canvas as Aemond held you down with one hand circled around your throat while the other had pushed your leg up for more easy and open access.

You were crying relentlessly and it was beginning to annoy the young Prince. “Quiet now, or I will have your tongue.”

“I-It is too p-painful.” You sobbed and this time Aemond landed a tight slap to your other cheek, watching it imitate the shade of the other one. “I said, fucking quiet. If I hear anything other than sounds of pleasure out of these lips of yours, I will toss you to my guards.”

It was an empty threat.

Aemond would never, ever do that. You were for him, only him. Insignificant your view was about him.

You were his prize, a sign of victory.

Still Aemond stalled, not having the heart to pummel his cock fully into you. All he managed was to breach your maidenhead and you were already wailing like you'd been shot with an arrow. He waited it out, letting you grow accustomed to his length and thickness.

Once your agony-clad face recovered and softened, Aemond took it as a sign to move further. Your gummy walls sucking his cock in, caressing the rigid veins. Deeper, and deeper. He went slowly and carefully, which you didn't overlook. You felt him sheath his cock fully into you, arms extended out for him, in complete submission.

Aemond, silently surprised by such vulnerability and submission, took your hands into his and brought them to his nape. “Hold me, brace yourself, Dōna.”

That sweet tone of his.

It nearly warmed your heart but the constant reminder which took at Harrenhal haunted you like a ghost. A cursed bestowed upon you, no escape at all. Aemond melted within you, nestling against your spongey spot of nerves. Your lips fell when he found that sensitive spot of yours.

He didn't waste time pummeling his cock into your weeping cunt, growls of a beast escaping him. You could not bring yourself to look at him. Pulling him closer, you concealed your face within the crook of his neck as your hold clasped around his slender nape — fingers intertwining with silver roots. Aemond had only tried Sylvie, his first and last so when he felt you draw him closer, it ignited a fire impossible to end.

“Gods,” Aemond groaned in your ear, his sharp nose running along your cheek, both hands gripping your flesh. “If I had known laying with you would be this pleasurable, I would have done it when we were younglings.”

Disgust would have made path on yout face it it was not for the pleasure Aemond bestowed upon you. His thick cock head repeatedly bruised your cervix and all you could do was wail, your hold for dear life tightening around him. Aemond found delight on your innocent moans, your sweet little hiccups and sounds of pleasure. He pulled from you, to glance down and felt immense satisfaction at the ring of blood around his length. He had officially taken you, not exactly under the circumstances he wanted but pondering about that was futile now.

His one eye stayed focused on you. Examining the lines donning your forehead, dark brows furrowed and a sheen of sweat sitting on your forehead. Pale cheeks flustered and saccharine sweet lips parted, birthing little sounds.

An epitome of nobility and charm you were.

Aemond pulled out of you, just as you were beginning to reach your pounding climax.

He leaned on the head board of the bed, chest glistening with droplets of sweat. The fire crackling was not helping neither of you to find some cold. “Get on top of me.”

You weakly shook your head.

Aemond’s glare obliged you and you shifted on the bed, crawling on top of him. In the process, you caught the blood of your purity staining the pale bed sheets, as well as your thighs. A burning sensation prodded and you finally did what Aemond asked you to do. The evil man grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“I'm sure you know your job here.”

Your lips trembled. “I-I am supposed to sit on it?”

Innocently you had voiced that question and Aemond almost cooed. He gave you a simple nod and watched as your cheeks burned with newfound embarrassment. You still did what you were told to, aware that fighting him back on this would only make him revoke the small kindness he'd shown you.

You grabbed a hold of his erect cock — pressing it over your soaked hole. As you slipped down on it, Aemond and you groaned in unison.

Your small hands found support on his bleeding chest, fingers swiping over his nipples accidentally and Aemond let out a choked gasp. The feeling of your walls clamping his cock mixed with the way your fingers brushed over his nipples was enough to send him fucking into you. Thrusting upwards into you while his large hand stayed locked on your hip.

Both of you moved simultaneously, greedily chasing after your own pleasure. Aemond saw a goddess in front of him — a weeping goddess who possessed the cunt of a hungry whore. Your small waist and bare tits bouncing with each move had him obsessed like a dog.

“Fuck, fuck, Dōna.”

He panted like his dragon, matching your pace with his, hand fondling your breasts. He was close but ripping an orgasm through you first was his priority and he was dedicated to it. Aemond felt your cunt squeeze him, watching as your tears fell in little pearls. “I am going to put a babe in you, Dōna. Can you believe it? Your childhood friend putting a babe in you.”

You couldn't even voice out your disagreement, Aemond was bound to do what he promised you. An intense feeling surged in your stomach, your pace slowing down and your sobbing growing more and more. Your orgasm tore through you in the form of essence, as your eyes disappeared behind your lids.

“Aemond, Aemond! Aemond.” You chanted his name out like a mantra and he slapped his cock deeper into you.

He fucking loved how submissive you were being now — entirely at his mercy and neath him. His own climax followed thoroughly, filling your walls with his spend. Spurting our rope after rope of white to fill up your expanded womb. Growls of need and ache echoed in the room and you couldn't stay still anymore, losing all your balance and colliding right in his chest.

Your little body was spent, fatigue and tiredness weakening you. Aemond was quick to wrap his arms around you, shushing you gently while you cried in his chest.

“It's over now.” He reassured but you knew very well that it was not. It was only for tonight that it was over.

Aemond comforted you, holding you against him with his cock still inside you.

“I hate you.” You cried, tears coating his chest as your forehead rested on his muscular chest. Aemond could only sigh, loathing the situation that bad befallen them. He did not resent you as you were the only one who had shown him true kindness.

But the war and throne were far more important.

“Rest, you need it.” He said, an order it was and you felt forced to comply. “Things will be very different from now on, Dōna. I will have the high sept marry us tomorrow, our child will not be a bastard.”

All you could do was weakly stir in his arms at that. There was no way you were willing but it was better than being a slave for Aemond’s guards. Being one man's whore was better than being a thousand’s.

[okartichoke]

ace avian. that’s what we’re calling this 🗣️🗣️🗣️

please let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions or input or anything! i’m happy to bounce ideas around (i'll post DL-6 someday soon i swear)

link to masterpost || explations below cut

shoutout to the anon who sent in that ask bc i seriously fell in love with blue jay phoenix. SHOUTOUT TO TAKAHE PHOENIX TOO THO takahe phoenix, you will forever be in my heart and im glad you existed <3333,, (maybe in this au he’s got some loving adoptive takahe parents :3) (YKNOW WHAT YEAH that’s canon now)

but yeah, flight-avoidant jay phoenix still lends itself well to the common-man hardworking underdog vibe i want from him. speaking of flight-avoidant...

Phoenix's relationship with flying:

It's a bit complicated. Basically, Phoenix can fly, but he historically chooses not to. From the lack of any practice, he's an INCREDIBLY weak flier. (That hovering is really all he can manage)

For one, he's still afraid of heights. Can't help that. This fear means he was less inclined to practice flying, which made him a weaker flier. And being a weaker flier, in turn, made his fear of heights worse. And so on, in a loop. With flightless parents too (it's canon now it's canon), there's even less of a reason to learn to fly. At some point, not flying might've even become something he stuck with out of stubbornness lol, knowing Phoenix.

(I will soon be making a couple small world building posts, but) flying isn't necessary to get around in their society. Convenient, sure, but Phoenix realized he could make do without, and so he did. Phoenix, you icon. Slay. 💅💅

i know this probably isn't the popular take with wing AUs??, but Phoenix being flightless (or at least semi-flightless) sounded like a really fun take on the idea to me. His name is irony at its peak. I also look forward to exploring how other characters react to him not flying. The prosecutors are going to have so many cheap insult opportunities.

As I mentioned though, he still uses his wings a LOT, though. He's much more emotive with them than most people. His sarcastic inner-dialogue remarks are also betrayed by his wings lmao

I also imagine bird-folk never really invented bikes (riding would just be annoying with their wings, plus bikes aren't fast/efficient enough to outweigh just flying), so instead, Phoenix gets around on a little wing-powered scooter device (like scootaloo lol) (they're usually made for children who can't fly yet, but Phoenix still uses one)

finally, wow, stellar jay’s are quite literally just phoenix wright as a bird lmao? color scheme, hair, it’s uncanny. give it a pink tie and it just is Phoenix Wright, i used a blue jay since they’ve got a bit more striking wings but wow.

(ty again for the support and for reading my essay ! :3)

one more thing, but @kora-kat YES YES YES this. ^^^^ omg THIS. this is still true even though he's a jay now.

[roseapov]

TWST Self Aware AU

The difference between 'The Player' and 'The Overseer' based on my observations and some Headcannons

Warning: Mentions of obsession, slaying people, stalking, cult themes and delusional worshippers

[TWST Self Aware AU] - [Masterlist]

The Player:

Everyone knows that Twisted Wonderland is just a game and they're the characters in it. They as a self aware AU communicate with you through Yuu, as it is their only form of communication with you (unlike the Overseer). They see you as their 'safe space' and can be/are possessive of you, cause of the comfort that you bring to them (some more than the others). They know you're somewhere out there playing and having your own life, so they really appreciate it when you do decide to play.

You don't have worshippers, just a bunch of students obsessively starved for your affection and attention - trying to harbor it all to themselves (Poor boys, shower them with affection - or not, Choose the safest option).

The Housewardens would be the most clingiest of them all. They have some real problems to overblot in the first place (-Kalim, +Jamil), but your presence seems to calm all their worries, so stay with them a little longer. Just. A. Little. Longer.

They're also not above stalking - when you play there's always someone following Yuu around, and when you're offline those with more magic than the others have the chance to infiltrate through your phone and watch your daily life through the camera as well as hear your voice through the microphone.

Since you communicate through Yuu, there are 2 options I see happening when you're offline:

Yuu is living their normal life without your influence as an npc, where they normally talk to everyone behind the scenes

When you log out, Yuu just disappears, which I think is pretty reasonable. Everyone then knows that you're offline and the only thing they can do is wait for you to log in again.

And of course, our very lonely Future Fae King tries to bring you into their world with his powerful magic, so he won't have to be alone anymore💕 The others also approve of this action, so See you soon!

The Overseer:

The characters there are a bunch of lunatic worshippers that see you as a God/Creator, and The Overseer. You're known there internally and Nations are worshipping you (unlike The Player who is only known by the characters they met). Their level of worship is different in each county, when in some (Briar Valley) you're the highest being to ever exist, while in the others you're seen as a respectable person who watches over them, but not as the deity to offer-everything-you-can to (Sunset Savanna, since they already have a Royal Family that rules for centuries - the irony since Briar Valley also have long ruling Royal Family).

You're a perfect being that soothes them, they're totally obsessed and very possessive of your attention. They have no problems with slaying everyone who's not respecting you enough *ekhem* Briar Valley/Diasomnia. They are elated when they feel your gaze linger on them a little longer than on the others.

They can feel your gaze on them, feel your touches but your silhouette is blurred/transparent for them (thanks to the screen, cause as we all know, the screen can't compare to the real experience), so they don't know your exact look (even tho they're dying to know *ekhem* Pomefiore, cause of their Fairest Queen opinion on you).

The Great Seven also met you (thanks to the Fairy of thorns), their God and Creator. They have made various opinions on your person (all positive, cause don't forget - they're all obsessed delulus), like for example: The Fairest Queen opinion on you is that 'You're the Fairest one of them all', all said while kneeling before your beauty.

Of course our current generation is also dying to meet their creator in all of their glory, so our most powerful and most delusional Diasomnia boys (mostly Malleus and Lilia) are trying to find a way to bring you into their world to worship you endlessly like you rightfully deserve.

You're not really communicating with them through Yuu, as they can see you through the screen of your phone (although blurry). They are always talking to you, always looking at you. All those lines, all for you, towards you, so answer them, look at them or things may get really ugly.

Some of my rambling now:

I know many days ago I posted that my first fic will appear in a few days, but it never did (sorry🙏). My first fic project was very ambitious and in the meantime I caugt a cold which numbed me totally, but it did gave me many ideas for fics in the future🤭. So instead of the fic planned to be my first one, this one will serve the purpose of being the first fic - pretty analysational and rational (I hope).

I'm still working on the fic that was supposed to be the first one, yet i have too little information on the topic to write it (it's also gonna be analysis like), so I'm going to take my sweet time with writing it and hopefully after the october (cause of the october writing challenge), succesfully release it.

I hope this fic came out good and y'all are satisfied with it, I am also open to any criticizm towards my works, so please feel free to tell me where i can improve!

I also apologize for all the mistakes that I could possibly have done here👀

Thank you all again and see you soon!💕

~roseapov

[hotsoon-milk]

Slay the Princess spoilers under the cut because im diseased

I have such mixed feelings on the Slay the Princess Narrator.

As a character, I love him, He's such a tragic antagonist, warped by his own fear of death to the point that he literally tore the cycle of life apart, and in a twist of irony, he killed himself to make sure his plan would work, leaving nothing but Echoes of who He once was. His being is scattered across worlds in a vain attempt to rid the world of death, but he never stopped to consider if this was what was best for the world, never considered if everyone else would be content with a life of stagnation and devoid of the ability to change, He never considered that other people might not be as terrified of dying as He was. There's so many questions about him that might never be answered because the original "Him" is dead. All that's left are mere gusts in the wind, holding on to the embers of his plan and fated to be destroyed if The Long Quiet decides to awaken to his godhood. Even His Echoes are condemned to the same fate He tried so hard to erase.

But as a person, I fucking hate him he's such a whiny little bitch like SHUT UP bro you sound like that kid on the playground that would always change the rules of the game so they could never lose only to go "i dont wanna play anymore" when they lose anyway. Fucking grow up. 😭

[aachria]

Me? Making art of my One Piece fanfiction for a school project? More likely than you think.

Behold, uh… yeah. This person. Whoever they may be. In the style of red figure terracotta pots from Ancient Greece. Slay!

Whomever it is would like it on record they had an eyebrow slit before it was cool, meaning before Ed. I’d also like it on record that they don’t fight with a polearm. That is there strictly for irony.

If you are somehow, by some stretch of a miracle, one of the 20ish people who saw me present this in class — no the fuck you are not.

[theneptuneflytrap]

Rating Every G1 Quote: Headmasters

I'm starting with the headmasters because...because I want to

Fortress Maximus: "Prepare for war, but strive for peace," 9/10 literally just the autobot code, docking one point for irony.

Chromedome: "A battle plan is only as good as its programmer," 8/10 hes the leader of the headmasters... hes a programmer... I get it. kinda lame but so is he so thats fair.

Brainstorm: "The strongest tyrant cannot crush freedom of thought," 10/10 killer line, no notes

Hardhead: "Its either MY way-or No way," 5/10 booooring also I honestly cant really see him saying this.

Highbrow: "War is the playground of the ignorant," 10/10 pretentious as hell but also slay I love the energy.

Scorponok: "Kindness is no virtue...and cruelty is no vice," 8/10 you had me at the first part i'm not gonna lie. Can 100% see him saying this.

Weirdwolf: "My pleasure with my enemy's pain comes," 7/10 ok evil yoda. Kind of boring but the way he talks gives it personality.

Mindwipe: "Just one look from me and you've lost," 9/10 overconfident but totally in character. He would say this and immediately lose.

Skullcruncher: "Autobots are like bad fuel -- weak and greasy," 4/10 no comment.

Nightbeat: "Truth is revealed in the smallest detail," 6/10 I mean yea it is you're right.

Siren: "Act first, ask questions later," 5/10 BORING you and hardhead need to go back to the drawing board PLEASE.

Hosehead: "If at first you don't succeed, keep trying," 6/10 *sigh yall have got to be more creative. giving him one extra point because its cute and I know hes trying his best.

Fangry: "Leaders are for fools who need to follow," 8/10 I see the vision It would slay if he reworded it just a little bit.

Horri-bull: "Smash all that stands and trample the rest," 5/10 generic ahh Decepticon quote.

Squeezeplay: "Place brawn before brains and victory is yours," 7/10 YOURE A SABOTEUR (with an intelligence of 5 so this tracks actuallly).

[fyrefrostanimus]

Doing a massive overhaul of my Voice designs, decided on not only the color theming (not changing the colors at all Cold will forever be purple to me) bur also each being a different bird species. I figured I might as well log it down here to not only keep a list for later but also receiving constructive criticism.

Hero: Crow, same as the player himself.

Paranoid: barn owl. Hyperaware of everything around him, especially sounds or visuals. Hunted also has this but Instinct Den forever changed how I see him. Also barn owl calls sound like screaming.

Cold: albatross. "Albatross over your shoulder" referring to numbness in this case (as far as I know that phrase just means something is weighing on you).

Contrarian: hummingbird. Hummingbirds have to be calculated to make sure they don't run out of energy, and that is exactly the opposite of Contrarian. But he still has that energy.

Cheated: cuckoo. Irony. He got cheated out of something (usually slaying The Princess), like how a cuckoo cheats another species of bird out of raising their own chicks.

Opportunist: lapwing. A group of lapwings is called a deceit, plus I decided to switch to him having the wing spur instead (he'd use it to win a fight in an unfair way once he gets an opportunity).

Hunted: loggerhead shrike. They're songbird that would normally be prey, but there's a reason this bird is called the butcherbird.

Smitten: lovebird. What else?

Skeptic: macaw. They're smart and I'm trying to avoid putting another corvid in so Hero is the only one.

Stubborn: eagle. He gives me the vibe of a bald eagle that will interlock talons with whoever he views as a rival (or lover, take this how you will) and plummet towards the ground at full speed.

Broken: dove. Pigeons and doves are closely related and doves works better with the theme of worship (often used as symbols in various religions).

[ijjstlostthegame]

Would you be interested in drawing what Kuruk and Ummi's children would have looked like if they had any? 👀

Glad you asked anon, I introduce you to nanouk

In this au Ummi and Kuruk got together far earlier and birthed nanouk, however a few years later Ummi gets kidnapped then Kuruk dies, orphaning the kid at 5 years old

Thankfully Nyahitha takes him under his wing and raises him with him, Nyahitha also tells him the truth when he’s old enough, so it’s only him and Nyahitha that are aware of Kuruk’s spirit slaying

He’s very spiritual and when Kyoshi went to Nyahitha with Hei-ran to see if he can help her tap into the spirit world Nyahitha tasked nanouk to try and help her, it immediately led to nanouk disliking Kyoshi a lot tho because of the way she kept talking badly about his father

After all is said and done tho he joins her team and acts like a big brother figure to her

And just for irony’s sake, he has his mother’s face :)

[irisintheafterglow]

heyy hope you're doing well (iykyk).

You know me lol...i got an idea for a fic but my exams are going on and i can't write it myself...like... that scene where gojo is panting? everyone relates it to well....but for me, i always feel a little hurt. i just wanna hug him and let him lean his weight on me as he catches his breath while i caresses his head cuz LOOK AT HIM! HE'S EXHAUSTED! MY MAN DESERVES A BREAK!!

Anyways so that's what i was thinking lol....a fic where (for the sake of my sanity) he gets a break and leans on the reader on the floor while catching his breath as the reader holds him close... it's okay if you can't do it though i just hope we all recover from the trauma that we call jujutsu kaisen. amen 🙏 😭

the stakes are high, the water's rough, but this love is ours

wc: 0.44k

cw/tags: swearing, angst if you squint real hard, pet names (baby, angel), just loving satoru things

note: you're literally so right i think all my problems would be solved if i could just hold him for a second and let him breathe because GEGE WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU- anyways hope you like this, it's just a drabble because i felt like getting straight to the point without exposition oops. enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <;3 gege you will pay for my therapy

Your back collides with cold, grimey tile as you slide onto the floor in the corner of the subway stop. You stopped counting the number of Curses you’d exorcized a long time ago, but you knew it was a large enough number to have your body physically depleted. Your eyes shut from sheer exhaustion as you continue to steady your rapid breathing and you sense him collapse on the floor next to you. You don’t open your eyes, even when his forehead falls onto your shoulder and you can feel his heavy exhales through your clothes. Somewhere in the dim fluorescent lights, his right hand grabs your left, holding it tightly as he grounds himself in your presence. 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking tired,” he mutters against your body. Like clockwork, your fight-or-flight response starts to recede now that he’s here. You’re always safe when he’s here. “I’m so, so tired.”

“I know, baby. I know.” 

“Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“I’m safe, ‘toru. Even more so now that you’re here. Just rest.” The familiar feeling of Infinity extending itself to envelop you sends goosebumps on your skin; it was like his technique knew to cover you from sheer instinct after doing it so many times. Whether he knows it or not, he slowly starts to completely slump against you and you let him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while his head fits snugly under your chin. His body continues to melt into you when you rub his back without him asking and sighing when your fingers comb through his hair. If Nanami or Yaga saw you two curled up on the dirty floor, neglecting your duties of slaying Curses, they’d have a field day. But, as of now, the only people in the green-tinted underground were you and Satoru. 

“We gotta get back out there,” he groans and you tighten your grip on his shoulders ever so slightly to pull him back to you. You didn’t want him to go yet, and it seemed like he didn’t want to, either. The universe allowed Satoru very limited moments to catch his breath and you damn sure weren’t going to let him rush into danger again so quickly. 

“Give yourself a few more seconds to just breathe, please. No one’s gonna hurt us right now,” you murmur into his hair. “I won’t let them.” He huffs out half a laugh at the irony, at your promise to protect the one who’s supposed to be guarding everyone else.

“Thank you, angel. Just give me a little longer and I’ll get up.”

“Take all the time you need; I’ll stay here forever if you need me.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hi queen here are your slice of life headcanons with iwa-chan, let’s see how good of a boyfie he can be based on the amounts of sol anime i’ve seen..

genre. fluff

for @melukonova <3

hajime iwaizumi x gn!reader.

⌗ walks with you every morning to school because you live in the same neighborhood as he does — so why not go together?

⌗ knew each other from young and through your parents so you kinda grew up together over the years and just stayed really close

⌗ study sessions at each other’s homes are a usual since you each have your strengths at school and wish to help each other to slay those exams later on🤞

⌗ supermarketing together ( yes, yes this was coming, don’t be surprised ) is less boring than going alone, right? especially when you beg him to let you sit in the cart and push you down the many aisles before a stock merchandiser gives you a dirty look

⌗ iwaizumi apologizes for your clownery and takes responsibility

⌗ after an eventful shopping session, you carry the bags together home ( he has the heavier ones and the majority of your own bags )

⌗ there were times where the clerks didn’t double bag and the ones containing produce tore..

⌗ cue you both running down a hill to grab the tomatoes that fell out

⌗ one time oikawa saw and laughed his ass off before gracing you with his assistance

⌗ just like you walk to school together, you also walk home together; iwa doesn’t want you walking alone at night since club activities drag sometimes, so he waits for you or you wait for him

⌗ you guys have a lot of classes together and are deskmates ( yay ), so it’s usually his job to prevent you from nodding off in classes or smacking your head down all together on the table..

⌗ miscommunications aren’t often since you guys have known each other for what feels like eons.. but there was this one time.

⌗ iwaizumi received a letter and it brought a bitterness to your heart as you watched a girl smiling giddily at him

⌗ did she have a thing for him? was it a letter confessing her feelings for him? not that you cared, of course — he was your best friend, nothing more than that

⌗ but was he really?

⌗ after the letter incident, you became a bit distant from iwaizumi, trying to avoid him as best as you can — making excuses to not go to school with him in the morning or return home with him

⌗ until oikawa, that is

⌗ “ah, y/n-chan! i finally caught you! it’s almost impossible to find you anymore, given you haven’t been around iwa-chan..” he’d trail off purposely before sliding his eyes to yours. “is there a reason for that, perhaps?”

⌗ of course he notices.

⌗ “i figured he was busy, so i didn’t wanna bother him..” you’d mumble back to him, avoiding his gaze. part of you felt ashamed that you had been avoiding hajime as you were, but you couldn’t bear to know how things had gone with that letter he was given.

⌗ a hum would leave tooru’s lips before he fished something out of his pocket, holding it up. “does this thing ring a bell, perhaps?”

⌗ and low be hold ( is that how you spell that lmao ), the letter hajime was given.. and tooru had it.

⌗ “a lot of my admirers like to give iwa-chan love letters addressed to me, and that one i assume you saw that day, was also for me.”

⌗ now, you felt like an idiot. of course it was for tooru — hajime was his best friend! he dealt with that bullshit all the time, and yet the one time you witness it.. you freeze up thinking it was for him.

⌗ “um, okay.. why are you telling me this again?”

⌗ “go to the courtyard and see for yourself!” would be his parting words as he leaves with a wink before returning to his classroom.

⌗ weird.

⌗ but you would go, anyway. tooru didn’t say things without purpose, or some kinda motive behind his words — it was just like him

⌗ as you arrive outside, you find hajime sitting under a sakura tree, and you think to yourself of the irony behind that sight, the cliche of it

⌗ he’s staring off into the rustling trees while you approach him carefully before sliding down on the tree, opposite from the side he was leaning against

⌗ “hey.”

⌗ “hey..” you would mumble back before letting out a breath. “i guess i have some explaining to do, don’t i?”

⌗ and so you tell everything you’d concluded after your encounter in the hall with tooru

⌗ long before you would connect the dots, hajime will have done so just by the changes in your expressions

⌗ you liked him. he didn’t think you ever would, considering how good you guys are as friends — but he could tell that you felt the same way as he did.. just that you hadn’t acknowledged it yet or realized for yourself

⌗ that brings up a new question. “riddle me this, if the letter was in fact for me, how would you have felt?”

⌗ pause. what? a who now?

⌗ “it would be weird to see you with someone else.” you finally answered, raising a brow. “why? did someone confess to you?”

⌗ a laugh left his lips as he shook his head. “no y/n, i was not confessed to, i’m just testing something.” he answered truthfully, quieting his laughter. “you said it was weird for you to see me with someone else. why is that?”

⌗ your hands felt clammy. why was he asking so many questions all of the sudden? and why so many regarding how you feel? it’s not like you could explain — even you didn’t understand!

⌗ “because it just- is!” you would blurt in defense, becoming increasingly more flustered with his inquiries. what were you, a criminal? was it a crime to feel a certain way without explanation?

⌗ and then he would shift around the tree to see your face, noting the way you covered your cheeks.

⌗ you gave away so much without even knowing what you were doing

⌗ “okay.” he would begin, letting out a breath. “so what if it was you being with me?” he asked after a moment to think — to phrase it right, as he moved to be in front of you, kneeled on the grass. “what if you were with me, how would that make you feel?”

⌗ you, with hajime? that.. wasn’t something you considered. maybe one time you thought of making a pact to get married when you both reached your forties — but other than that..

⌗ “i don’t know- i haven’t.. thought of it.” why were you so nervous now? the morning breeze made it brisk — why were you feeling all warm?

⌗ “well, then what do you think now if i asked you out, to be with me?” to be more than my best friend, he wanted to add.

⌗ and you were starstruck, completely shocked by the question because hajime, of all people, the least likely to ask this of you, is asking it.. right this second, in front of you.

⌗ no letter needed

⌗ and who were you to refuse when you wanted to be with him, too.

notes. i sped through this with one working braincell so i’m not sure how good this is.. but i hope it fulfills your needs of a slice of life iwa-chan :’)

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[mazm-imagines]

I love how everyone decided to flustter the hell out of Erik

And it's good, you're pretty, Erik. Slay, queen

"You mock me. Do not think even for a second I can look past your usage of irony." Erik scoffed with distrust thick in his dulcet voice.

Slay, queen? He sure slayed alright but queen? Were they now mocking him with feminine terms?

Surely no one would ever consider him "pretty", much less pretty enough to be comparable to a female form.

It's been a rough, rough day for him.

[lias36912]

Percy Jackson and the untouched monster dust gold industry

When monsters are killed in the PJO universe they turn into gold dust right? Is this real gold or Imperial Gold or simply fake? Because depending on the answer, demigods could make money with that or use it for other useful things.

Let's say it is real gold. Depending on the size of the monster probably, you could get a few grams by doing your obligatory monster killing of the day/week/month. While I don't know how much you could get for that, with the amount of monsters out there, out to get them, some demigods would accumulate a little fortune easily. Of course there is the Mist to think about, but as stated in the wiki, the Mist let's mortals see, what they can comprehend. There is no reason why they shouldn't see the magical monster dust as normal gold dust.

The Mist (also known as the Duat or Glamour) is a supernatural force controlled by the goddess Hecate that twists a mortal's sight from seeing monsters, gods, Titans, and other supernatural occurrences by replacing them with things the mortal mind knows about and can comprehend. (https://riordan.fandom.com/wiki/Mist)

Of course it would probably take ages if you want to collect every little bit of it, but often enough the demigods find themselves dusted in the stuff, so they could simply take it from there.

(Gold mines could in this case be old battlefields or something of the sort where the gold dust just accumulated and then other stuff buried it or something.)

Then let's say it is Imperial Gold. In this case, the Greek demigods wouldn't have seen it for what it really is, but the Roman ones could have always gathered the dust to forge new weapons for themselves. This could go as far as them gathering the dust of all the monsters they slayed to ultimately forge their own personal weapon. Something like Riptide is for Percy for example. I think there would be a certain irony, that the monsters would be killed by what remains of them.