#those big round traumatized eyes

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Charles, walking into MC and Vlad’s bedroom in the middle of the night: I had a bad dream. MC: What was it about? Vlad: No, don’t ask him that! MC: Why not? Vlad: Cause he’ll answer!

[wonderlandwalker]

Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it. 

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything. 

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to. 

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone. 

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned. 

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had  a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment. 

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue. 

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of. 

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too" 

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there. 

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go" 

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him. 

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it. 

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat. 

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him. 

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

“And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk  and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

[lokisprettygirl]

Brokenhearted (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Modern AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 8 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 9

Summary: Samantha continues to be a nuisance for Daemon and his journey towards healing.

Warning: 18+, Smut, sex, filthy smut, dom sub relationship in bed, Discussion of mensuration and Pregnancy, arguments and angst, flashbacks of abusive relationship, toxic masculinity, sexual abuse, Samantha, traumatic distressing content, Daemon is a big time smoker so if it’s something triggering don’t read it, alcohol drinking, mention of past trauma and therapy, cigarette smoking, possessive behaviour, mention of violence, baby needs therapy, baby is trying

It's been a month since Samantha had returned, after that day you hadn't seen her again but for some reason you always felt as if you were being watched, maybe it was just paranoia but you didn't want anything to disrupt your peaceful life with Daemon.

He had hired one of the best trainers in the world - Jonathan Decosta to help him get back into the shape again, he had agreed to join the league and his qualifier round was scheduled for two months later.

You were happy for him because he really was trying, he seemed calmer even, he had cut down severely on smoking and was making several changes in his life. He did get into trouble for backing out of his professional obligations for those men that were training under him for the same league, he'd ultimately have to compete with them and it raised a conflict of interests but Viserys handled the legal matters pretty well, he was more than happy that Daemon wanted to fight again..

However you couldn't help but worry that it might all be a little too much for him in the end, and you didn't want to see him get hurt again.

You were at the center, watching Daemon train since it was your day off, your eyes were stuck on his form, he was so quick and agile in the combat training, his stamina was unmatched. Well you definitely knew all about that.

His hair had gotten longer, reaching below his neck, he was on a calculative diet as well, he was already in a very good shape even before but now his body seemed more muscular and defined.

There was no one at the center working at this early hour so on his break as his trainer stepped out to get breakfast Daemon grabbed a towel and walked towards you, he was dripping with sweat and his breaths were heavy, a sight you were too familiar with and it was making you squirm in your seat .

He gave you his typical smile as he leaned down to kiss you before he pulled a chair in front of you to sit, he rested his head down on the head of the chair as he tried to relax his breathing.

"Did you eat something darling?" He asked you as he tilted his head so you smiled and nodded.

"But I'm still hungry…for something else" you bit on your lips as you were done speaking and he let out a chuckle,

"Is that so?"

"Kind of want to suck you off" you mumbled in your mouth and looked down at your phone, his breath hitched as you said that, blood rushed straight to his cock at your sultry voice.

It's been years since he had allowed anyone to please him like that, he had negative experiences because of Samantha. She'd please him like that once in a while but it was never done for him, it was for her, she'd be harsh with her words, reminding him how easy it was for her to make him cum, she'd degrade him and how he needed to improve how long he lasted when she was pleasing him like that.

"Mhnmm?" He just made a humming noise and you knew he was thinking about it but there was a hesitation and a fear on his face. You got up and sat down on his lap, grabbing the end of the towel you wiped his forehead and bare chest before you kissed him. He smelled so good, so manly, you just wanted to devour him but you wanted him to feel good about it too.

He was trying so hard to overcome some of those fears he had and you knew there were some issues that would only be fixed with the help of professionals but you wanted to make him feel good, bring out his real self, the man that he used to be before she destroyed him.

You caressed his chin with your thumb before you kissed him, he pulled your hair aside and his lips latched onto your neck as he feathered soft little kisses on your skin.

"I'm so proud of you" you whispered softly in his ears and his clutch on your waist only got tighter, you were starting to learn more about what ticked him, he really enjoyed being praised or being told how good he was even though he'd never admit it.

"Thank you, I don't want to let you down" he mumbled so you cupped his cheeks and kissed him again.

"You could never let me down no matter what" he smiled and grabbed the locket on your neck to inspect it, you could tell he was thinking about how else he could spoil you, he just loved dousing you in jewels and other gifts.

A few nights ago he had made you wear all of them and clicked a bunch of pictures on his camera. You only had the jewels on, nothing else.

Things started to heat up between you two so you got off him before his trainer would return. Once his training concluded, Jonathan left, leaving you and Daemon alone. Viserys would come in an hour so you had some time to kill. He wanted to take a shower so he grabbed your arm and made you follow him to the bathroom. It was a typical men's room with several shower stalls, giant lockers on the side and other facilities. The stalls didn't even have doors, just curtains, you could clearly see his silhouette as he stepped inside the shower.

The song Close to you by Maxi priest was playing on the speakers and you found yourself highly turned on with thoughts of doing unspeakable acts to him. You took your dress off and then your lingerie, sliding the shower stall curtain you stepped inside, Daemon smiled as he felt your arms wrapping around his waist, soft kisses were placed on his back, lips trailing over those scars he carried..

"You're not allowed to be here love" he tried to be firm but his voice came out in whispers.

"Mmm and who's going to stop me? You're the boss of this place aren't you?" You mumbled seductively as you circled around him and stood between his body and the wall behind you. Water drenched your hair immediately and you got on your tiptoes to kiss him, his hands were still placed on the walls for a while before he placed them around your waist and pulled you closer.

Your lips traveled down from his jawline to his adam's apple and then you continued to lower down, he knew what you wanted to do to him and as anxious as he felt, a part of him wanted you to do it, to make him feel good like that. As you got on your knees you glanced up at him, his fingers combed through your hair and his gaze was intense.

"May i sir …please?" You asked softly and his breath hitched in his chest, you were always so eager to appease his manliness, it was something he had lost while he was with her but you always made him feel enough about himself, you made him feel like a man no matter how vulnerable he was with you.

"Is this something you truly desire or you're doing it just to make me feel good?" he asked, thumb rubbed over your lips, his voice remained firm but there was a hint of tenderness to it.

"Both..I feel both" you grabbed his cock in your fist and one of his arms came up to rest on the wall again as he let out a guttural moan.

He then watched his cock disappear halfway into your mouth as you sucked the tip in and out slowly.

"You're so big, I can't take it all the way in" he snickered as you boosted his ego, always so willing to remind him that he was more than enough, in every possible way.

"You're doing good my sweetheart" your eyes bored into him as you licked the underside of his cock, his brows furrowed and mouth curved into a half smile, he was enjoying it and that's all you wanted.

The water from the shower head was dripping down on his cock, at first it helped to ease your movement but he sensed that it was getting a bit difficult for you to keep him in so he quickly turned it off. His mind was a blubbering mess as you focused your attention on his balls, he let out a loud moan and his fingers clutched around your hair, pressing your head between his legs as if he wanted you to be as close as possible.

"Mmm does it feel good sir?" you mumbled before you sucked him in again, at some point he heard her voice in his head taunting him, calling him unmanly for enjoying such frivolous pleasures but he ignored it and looked into your eyes instead.

"Yeahhh..it feels ..like heaven my darling..don't stopp" his voice was husky as he spoke, you pulled him out and stroked his cock with one hand while the other one played with his balls.

"You deserve it.. this and more and I want to give it all to you, I am all for you baby" you spoke before you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him as deep as it was possible for you, he let out a sound that was mixture of a grunt and a whimper, he was close, you could tell just from the way that vein on the underside of his cock was pulsing on your tongue.

He placed both of his arms on the wall behind you and his thighs trembled as he finally let go into your mouth, you swallowed some of his hot liquid but he wasn't done just yet so you pulled him out of you and a few drops splattered on your face, you continued to stroke him slowly as he rode the high.

You couldn't stop admiring his eccentric beauty, his heavy breaths, the wet dripping hair, the look of pure pleasure on his face was more than you can handle, your fingers dipped between your legs and you couldn't help from touching yourself to the sight of him.

Once his senses were clear he looked down at you on your knees and placed his arms on your shoulders to lift you up so you were standing up, he pressed you against the other side of the stall, the shower was turned on again but the water wasn't hitting any of you. He just liked the sound of it. It added to the thrill.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth to lick your fingers that were brazenly rubbing against your fold just now, you gasped at the gesture.

His thumb rubbed the droplets of cum on your face all over and then he kissed you immediately after that, your lips were moving frantically against each other, burning with desire for each other. Your thoughts were mingled, the feeling of his hand sliding between your legs was all you needed in the moment,

"So fucking slick, you enjoyed it that much? Sucking my cock like that?" He whispered in your ears making you squirm and hump against his palm,

"Yes I did.. I'd do it everyday, all night long if you'd let me" he grunted as your whiny voice filled his ears.

"Fuck darling i love you"

Samantha pleasured him like that once every blue moon and she made sure to make him feel as if she was doing a favor on him, she made sure to degrade him for enjoying it but he didn't have to worry about that anymore, he had you now, his own Angel, his sweet little girl who he knew just wanted to keep him safe and happy.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and you got on your tiptoes to kiss him passionately. It didn't take long for him to make you crumble and soak his hand with his skilled ministrations.

A shower was much needed after that.

As you stepped out you immediately got dressed and fixed your face in the mirror, once he dressed up in his fresh clothes, he leaned against the lockers and was watching you with an amused smile on his face, the way you played with makeup piqued his interest.

"What are you smiling for?" You giggled and he shook his head in response.

Next morning there was a huge box on your door, filled with the luxurious brands of makeup products you never would have bought for yourself. He was only observing you so he could spoil you further with things he knew you'd enjoy.

Things were going really well, he had his moments where he needed space but he never ran out on you, however on the way back to his apartment one evening you were utterly shocked to see Samantha sitting on the porch of his building. He wasn't home yet, he was still at the center, you wanted to cook him dinner and had the key to his apartment so instead of going back home you walked to his apartment instead.

"What are you doing here?" You asked as you approached her cautiously, you'd have just ignored her and gotten in but you didn't want to press the entry code while she was watching you like a hawk. She was extremely dangerous and seemed like that type to break into someone's house.

You could see why he fell for her though, she was beautiful and had an innocent look to her but her soul was blackened, your heart clenched everytime you thought about Daemon and how he often begged her to forgive him, to love him again, to not hurt him in bed.

"Just waiting for my baby" she gave you a prideful smile, you had a wishful thinking that perhaps she had left after realizing that he wasn't her toy to mess with but you were obviously wrong.

"Are you fucking insane? You should be in an asylum somewhere" you looked at her with disgust and she just laughed in response, you wanted to keep your cool and not give her the satisfaction she craved but she was making it really difficult.

"Awnnn is that what you think I am? That I am Insane? For loving a man as pathetic as he used to be before I fixed him?" Your jaw clenched as she insulted him. "What? Did he tell you a sob story about me and how I abused him? And you believe a man like him, a strong 6 feet tall man like him was abused by me? Wake up girlie, I never did anything he didn't want me to do, I only made him feel the way he wanted to feel, maybe that was my only fault, loving him so deeply that I was willing to hurt him even if I didn't want to. I made him the man that he never was, transformed him from that frail, delicate emotional fool to the man that he's now" she said proudly and you just wanted to smack her.

And you didn't want to stop there, as awful as it made you as a human being, part of you relished in the fact that Daemon had hurt her once.

You had seen the physical pain as well as the psychological trauma she had put him through. Forget opening his heart, he wasn't even ready to open himself up to being touched intimately in any way that wasn't just mechanical sex, that's how severely she had ruined his trust and esteem.

"I know women like you well, he was just a game for you wasn't he? An obsession for your evil desires, merely a possession to be kept locked. But let me tell you one thing you dirt faced bitch, Daemon Targaryen wasn't meant to be caged like that, sure he got in your clutches once but if you really think you'd be able to saunter your way into his life again then you're clearly deluding yourself..now fucking leave or I'll call the cops and report your stalking activities" you stood your ground against her as you stood up for your man, she glared at you with such intensity that you did feel creeped out by her.

If you weren't on the open street you'd have felt threatened by her diabolical presence.

"You listen to me you whore, Daemon was mine and always will be, I don't care what you call me but I'm the only woman he'd ever dare to love, you think he doesn't miss me no more? I bet everytime he's fucking you a part of him is thinking about the time he was with me" you chuckled as she said that. You knew that your smile only made her feel more infuriated so you used it as much as you could.

"And you think that's something to be proud of? You're a complete lunatic aren't you?" She stepped towards you but you didn't flinch, you didn't want her to see that you were affected by her presence even though the truth was further from that.

Daemon's car pulled into the driveway and you breathed a sigh of relief, you were clearly unnerved by her malevolent personality. He stepped out, grabbed your hand, didn't even look at her as he walked towards the buzzer and stood in front of it closely to enter the codes.

"Daemon..baby, you're growing your hair again I see, you know it makes you look like a girl..did you get the flowers I sent at the centre?" Samantha spoke but he ignored it as if she wasn't even there. Once you both got into the apartment you looked at him to gauge how he was feeling but he seemed normal.

"I have to send a few mails..I'd be right back darling" he kissed you softly before he grabbed his laptop and went to the bedroom, you really didn't want to press a nerve so you started to prepare the dinner instead.

About an hour later he walked into the kitchen and put his head down on your shoulder while his arm wrapped around your waist,

"Daemon you need to report her or something, this is not a Normal behavior" he sighed as you said that,

"Just ignore her"

"But–"

"Do you not remember that I put her in the hospital? She'd pull up the old records and I'd be the one to get crucified for it, let's not forget that I'm the man here" he said in a no nonsense tone and you felt bad about it, just because he was a man that didn't mean he didn't deserve to feel safe or that he didn't deserve justice from that criminal bitch.

"So we just let her do whatever she wants?" You asked him and he kissed your shoulder before he spoke again.

"She'd get bored and leave" he dipped a spoon in the sauce you were making for the pasta and licked it clean.

"It's been almost a decade since you two know each other, I think if she was the type to let go she would have done that" you said to him so he sighed again "Does it taste good?" You asked him as you turned to him and cupped his cheeks, you didn't want to irritate him or make him feel bad about this, none of this was his fault, you just didn't understand his carefree attitude regrading her stalking behaviour.

"It's perfect darling. Look I know you're worried but if she tries anything I'll take care of it. I'll protect you with all my might I promise" he whispered and kissed you again.

It wasn't your own safety you feared here.

At night as you got in bed he immediately had you undressed and underneath him, he wasn't being rough today, his thrusts were slow and effortless, he just wanted to stay inside you for a little longer and you didn't mind it at all.

"Can I ask you something?" You asked so he pulled his head up from between your neck and chuckled.

"Now?"

"Mmmhm" you bit on your lips as his cock deepened inside you.

"How did you ummm what did you do to her? You said you hit her, put her in the hospital. How did you do that?" You asked him softly as you caressed his cheek, the smile on his face had faded as if he was thinking about the night.

"I would never hurt you like that darling, she just ..did something unforgivable and i snapped–"

"That's not why I want to know baby, I'm not scared of you, I just want to know how you did it.." he looked at you curiously and leaned down to kiss you tenderly before he spoke.

"I hit her twice before i pushed her down, she lost her balance and fell over the glass table, the impact caused it to break instantly and hurt her severely" he mumbled hurriedly.

"Okay, she deserved that" you said firmly so he kissed the tip of your nose,

"Nobody deserves that darling" he refuted even though there was a smile on his face. His pretty angel, always on his side.

"I know for sure that she did..do you feel guilty about it?"

His pace increased as you said that.

"I did at the time.. I never wanted to put hands on any woman in my life, let alone my own girlfriend..but when I think about what she had done to me, to our– I don't regret it" his breathing got heavier as his thrusts increased, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you to kiss him as lovingly as you could. He wasn't proud of what he had done in the fit of anger but he didn't regret it either.

"You did nothing wrong baby, nothing wrong, I'm so proud of you for sticking up for yourself and I'm so proud of you for wanting to fulfill your dreams again"

You whispered tenderly and he pressed his head down on your chest so you caressed his scalp until he exploded and then collapsed next to you. Turning towards him you caressed the scars on his chest, tracing each and every one of them.

He didn't stop you, your touch felt as if they'd heal those wounds he had suffered by her hands.

Everything was going so well for you two but a fear remained, she was still around, lurking behind the shadows for an opportunity to get in touch with him again. Daemon had to leave for Vegas for the league, he was so anxious about the trip, that's where he had played his last tournament, in the same arena and you didn't want him to be alone with his thoughts so when he asked to take you with him, you immediately agreed and used all your vacation days on him.

However, as Daemon stepped inside the ring for the practice session, an overwhelming sense of panic and dread washed over him. Despite the fact that the arena was empty, he could visualize all those people from the past that were present for his last fight, their words of disappointment and disbelief ringing loudly in his ears. He could even see Samantha's sinister smile as she watched him from the stands, taunting him for what she had to do because of him.

"Daemon..are you alright?" Jonathan asked him but his voice didn't reach daemon who was lost so deeply in his head, he needed you but you were back at the hotel as his trainer didn't want a distraction before the match.

The fear and anxiety became too much for him to bear, and he bolted from the arena, unable to shake the overwhelming sensation of not being ready for this, of not being worthy enough.

All this time he told himself lies, he thought he was over what she had done to him but he wasn't. He wasn't ready for this, he didn't think he'd ever be ready to fight again.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Taglist (please check your setting if I’m not able to tag you)

@simbaaas-stuff @ajthefujoshi  @witchybitch29  @hypocritic-trash-baby  @mariaelizabeth21-blog1  @thefallenangel21n  @kmc1989

@stupidthoughtsinwriting

[elliebyrrdwrites]

The potion is thick, almost sticky as it slides down my throat. It’s supposed to be the last dose I will ever take, according to Healer Dodd. He told my father that my liver will start to fail if he keeps administering these potions to me. He says that the incident occurred so long ago, there is virtually no chance of a relapse.

Whatever that means.

He advises my father to stick with the liver replenishing potions. Reminds him not to let me drink alcohol.

He stares down at me as I sit, stone like, against the wall, my feet pulled up onto the lumpy mattress. My arms wrap around my knees and I let my heavy lidded eyes follow him as he watches my pupils change size as they contract.

I’ve been in and out of this place for years. It feels like every other visit, except that the doses have increased to twice a day and this time, Dodd looks at me with something like pity.

It drips from his eyes as he examines me, as he asks me questions about my life. Always the same round of questioning.

Where did I got to school? Was there anyone particularly close to me during those years? Tell me about the war, were there any particularly traumatic events that I can recall?

Nothing, I tell him. Nobody.

Sometimes, I think about telling him about Ginny Weasley and the strange memories of her smiling at me, laughing and shaking her head.

Instead, I tell him that at school, I was alone. Memories of Zacharias Smith’s big dumb eyes or the smell of Lavender and damp grass stay tucked away, hidden from the world.

Dodd asked me if I remembered why I came in this time, why my father insisted that I seek professional care.

I told Dodd the truth, for once.

I’m a god and this shell cannot always contain all of my power.

“You are a man, Draco. A wizard, just like the other patients in this facility.”

No, I told him. I’m building an army of followers. I’m destined to take over the world.

Dodd frowned at me then told my father that he recommended that I get off the potion and stay in this prison until I can be mended properly.

My father sneered at him and spat onto the floor. “Don’t forget who you work for, Dodd.”

Me, Dodd works for me, just like the rest of the soldiers. My father rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head. “I will not keep him here. He has duties to get back to.”

Work at the ministry, marrying Astoria. He reminds me and Dodd of these things, the importance of my family name and the power we hold in the world.

My chapped lips press together as the urge to close my eyes takes over, my muscles liquify and threaten to pull me into the mattress as my mind begins to detach itself from my body.

I’m fighting it, this time, trying hard to hold onto my sanity before it slips away. I pull my gaze away from Dodd and instead look out the window. It’s tiny and covered in bars. There’s streaks of sunlight still burning against the edges of the sky. It’s not like the sunsets in Wiltshire. All orange and pink. These are different, somehow, more beautiful with all the brown and gold.

I keep my eyes trained on the window and can feel my mind drifting. Only, it doesn’t drift off into the stars above. Not yet.

Instead, it drifts into a little known space that I’ve been keeping all to myself, in the back of my skull. Just tucked in there, hidden away from my fathers prying eyes, from Dodd and his mind work.

Eyes like the sunset outside, staring at me. Hermione Granger haunts my life. It’s a single moment of a younger version of ourselves staring at me, as a soft smile curves her lips upwards.

I don’t know why I have this secret all to myself.

What I do know, is that it keeps me from slipping into that deep pit of despair that threatens to suck me in every fucking day. I think it reminds me of a time when I had some semblance of choices to make. When I still had some free will.

Her eyes are all I have, like a collection of marbles a child creates when he feels he has no control in the world around him.

The healer leaves and I can hear the door click, the scoff of his shoes against the floor. And then I’m floating. My mind is drifting, weaving through the universe and the never ending loop of energy that we misconstrue as time.

Because, time doesn’t actually exist. It’s just a construct humans have created to explain away growing old, or the the ebb and flow of pain and joy.

Except for me.

I’m no longer mortal. Because I don’t experience those ebbs and flows.

There is no chronological order anymore. It doesn’t exist here, so don’t look for it. It’s all just energy being recycled, over and over.

I’m just this thing that floats through the universe, watching as if in slow motion, the world passing by. And right now, I’m just biding my time while I wait to be released back into the wild.

[sirendeepity]

[ SJM Romance Week, day 7: Free Day ]

A/N: I might be completely and unashamedly biased, but I love those kids to pieces. In my mind, there are one too many options on how the triplets have come into the world, but this is the one I hold dearest, so I tried to put it into words. Hopefully, I did it justice. A short summary would be a canon-compliant fic of sorts, set years into the future, where Nesta and Cassian had kept their pregnancy a secret from the world, but not anymore. Enjoy <3

@sjmromanceweek

T/W: occasional mention of past traumatic events;

W/C: 3.9k

It’s been four years since Cassian had last felt the “jumping off a cliff with tied wings would be less stressful” kind of nervous.

You want this, he reminded himself. And gods damned him, he did. He had all but howled when Nesta had given him the green light. He had written a letter—little more than a scrap of paper with a date, place, and time scribbled on it—, and counted down the days. Eleven. He had double-checked that everything was how it was supposed to be before stepping out of the house—still fifteen minutes earlier. Cassian didn’t want to take any risk. He simply leaned against a tree and waited, looking at the hollowed-out trunk they had used as a drop-off point for their letters during those past few years. A couple of years shy of a decade had passed since he’d last seen his family, so Cassian took those moments of quietness to let his memories flow. How the last war they’d fought had taken everything from his mate, leaving an empty shell of the fierce female she used to be; how he had kept his promise and took her far, far away, to a place no one knew about. A place where they could both rest and heal. Their friends had been distraught when Cassian had told them they would leave for an indefinite amount of time and asked them not to contact Nesta in any way—to give her space and, most importantly, time. And they had. Rhys and Feyre had rarely spoken to him using their daemati abilities, asking for updates, if they needed anything, when could they meet again. Even Azriel’s shadow had kept their distance. Kept their secret, too. A little more than two months and Nesta had held out a closed envelope to him. “For Feyre and Elain,” she said simply. So Cassian had found that very place in the middle of nowhere, tied a white ribbon around one of the lowest branches, and let a simple thought travel out into the ether: “I’ve got something for you.” That had been their first contact. But even as the letters became more frequent, Cassian could see how Nesta’s eyes shuttered every time he tried to bring up Velaris, or the House of Wind. So they all waited. Time flew by, and before Cassian could take a full breath, weeks turned into months turned into years, and now—

“Cass.”

Cassian blinked, turning to face the owner of the voice. Feyre stood a few steps from him, tears already filling her eyes. Rhys was at her side, and Mor, and Az. Everyone had come, right when he’d told them to. Not a minute before, and not a minute later. Words failed him, so Cassian just opened his arms wide, inviting his friends and family back into his life. Tears fell, and laughter soon filled the air around them as hugs and kisses were exchanged. Even Amren, for a fleeting moment, wrapped her slender arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly despite her furrowed brows. Cassian wasted no time, kissing Gwyn on both cheeks in congratulations, careful of her round belly, before setting off into the woods and beckoning them to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“I told you Nesta would turn the wolves prowling this place,” Mor gestured at the mountains around them with a manicured hand, “and make puppies out of them.”

Feyre laughed. It must’ve been a recurring joke between them.

Cassian only grinned, “Something like that.”

A few minutes later they reached an opening, a meadow big enough for comfort, and a house came into view. His house, the one Cassian had built from the grounds up. It was two stories high, with a small patio on the front—mirror to the much larger one in the back— and a tall stone chimney. He had flattened out one side of the rooftop, making a little terrace of sorts—which Nesta had decorated with pillows and plants and candles—, and every door and window had been painted a bright red. It had taken them some time to turn that place into a home, but now there was something unequivocally theirs about it all. Cassian had come to cherish the peace of mind granted by its four walls, and it had turned into a safe space for him as much as it was for his mate. Instead of opening the doors to them, Cassian guided his friends to the back. A couple of stray trees dotted the space, with flowers ready to bloom. They hosted swings and knotted ropes. A sheet had been tied between two trunks and turned into a makeshift hammock.

Planks of wood were still piled up beside the furthest tree. Once upon a time, Cassian had promised he would pick up the project again, but he could hardly bring himself to look at it without bile rising up his throat. That broken tree-house was all he could see.

“Daddy’s back!”

A small figure wrapped in a yellow dress ran toward him, chubby arms already raised in the air. Cassian caught his daughter as she launched at him, swinging her in the air before bringing her close to his chest. Gasps echoed behind him.

“Look, look!” Nora exclaimed. Twin pigtail braids swayed this way and that, following the movements of her head. “Mommy put her ribbons in my braids! Now I’m a valykirie, too!”

Cassian laughed at his daughter’s words. “Valkyrie,” he corrected her, kissing her rosy cheek. “You look so pretty, Ladybug.”

Nora giggled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and wrapping her arms around him.

“Cass,” Mor choked on a whisper. He winked at her, inclining his head as he moved deeper into the garden. A large blanket had been laid onto the grass, almost every inch of it covered with small plates and trays filled with hard cheese, cured meats, and veggies of all kinds. Nesta had even made fresh rosemary and olive bread that morning, filling the house with its aromatic scent. Thankfully, the Mother had blessed them with a sunny day—a rarity in Illyria, especially during that time of the year, when spring and summer met in uncertain weather. Sometimes it was so warm they had to strip off layers of clothing, others the sky was raining down on them, or the wind sneaked into their home and tried to steal anything light enough to be carried away. That day was perfect, with white clouds sheltering them from the harshness of the sun and a light breeze to keep them cool. The trees helped, too. It was there, under the shadows of rustling leaves, that his mate was. She was seated on a plush pillow, one of the many they had thrown around, with a baby curled over her chest. Two, actually. Maya left a kiss on her brother’s cheek, patting his soft curls as he wiped at his eyes. His wings were relaxed, low on the ground, and Nesta was rubbing his back in wide circles. Nora’s excitement must have woken him from his nap. Athos tended to be grumpy when someone disturbed his dreams. With one last kiss, Maya parted from her brother and ran to Cassian.

She stopped at his side, barely reaching his knees, and Cassian bent down to place a hand on top of her dark hair, braided in a crown—so I can look like Mom, she had said that morning. But it was not at him she was looking at. Her gaze was fixed behind him, where Emerie stood. As Nesta rose, Athos still in her arms, and walked closer, Cassian watched his daughter study the female, waiting. Everyone held their breath.

“Are you Em…” Maya’s blue-gray eyes, Nesta’s eyes, turned to him, and Cassian nodded in encouragement, “..Erie?”

Emerie sniffed once before clearing her throat. “That’s me.”

Maya gasped, joy lighting up her soft features. She pivoted, pink skirts and all, and spread her little black wings. The right one stretched open, while the left couldn’t go past half its length. A brutal scar ran down its inner side, covering leather and skin alike. Cassian’s throat closed at the memory of his daughter, his Butterfly, falling from the tree house. The one he’d built for them. The one he should’ve built better, making sure everything was safe before letting three toddlers get in it.

One of the floor planks had given out when Maya had jumped on it, the wood breaking beneath her tiny feet, and in her fall the exposed shards had dug into her back. Had cut through tendon and bone alike. They had managed to save her spine—fuck, they had managed to save her life—but there was nothing they could do for the little wing. It had been devastating. For weeks, Cassian had barely been able to eat, to sleep, to look his kids in the face. He’d been ridden by guilt and shame. He still was, the darkness lurking toward him, hitting him in waves, and more than a year had passed since that awful day. A warm hand grabbed his, holding gently, and Cassian turned toward his mate, exchanging glances. She knew, he knew, neither of them would let the shadows take control of their thoughts, their emotions, again.

“Mama said I’m like you!” Cassian could’ve sworn pride laced his daughter’s words. Nesta had told her, told all of them, countless stories about Emerie, and Gwyn, and even Feyre and Elain. About those females who had not allowed the blows life had dealt them to break their spirit, to bend their will.

“Did she now? Well,” Emerie said, voice thick with emotions as she bent down and stretched her open palm toward Maya, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then.”

“I’m Maya,” she said, grabbing Emerie’s fingers with both hands. “And she is Nora.” On cue, Nora started wiggling in his arms, so Cassian placed her feet back on the ground and wrapped his newly free arm around Nesta’s waist. “And that is Puppy.”

“He is Athos!” Maya scolded her sister, both of them bursting into a fit of snorts and giggles. Athos blinked once, twice, golden-brown curls falling into the hazel eyes they shared. With skin one or two shades paler than his sisters’, he was the one resembling Nesta the most—save for the pair of leathery wings on his back, now tucked in tight as he turned his head the other way and hid in the safety of his mother’s arms. He had her same quiet nature, too, but that didn’t stop his sisters from luring him into trouble at any given chance. Nora, on the other hand, was Cassian’s carbon copy. Not just in looks, but in spirit too. She laughed as hard as she cried, living her emotions to the fullest. Much like the day they were born, she was always at the lead, always the first to act, to make way for her twins. Believe it or not, she was not the mind behind their shenanigans. Maya was. Their eyes were the only feature that set them apart. One from forests and mountains, the other from skies and seas. Maya was a little devil in disguise, already too clever for her own good.

“Oh, my,” Elain breathed, cheeks stained with tears. “Are they-”

“Triplets,” confirmed Nesta. The waterworks began again.

“When?”

“How?”

“Girls, finally!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Congratulations, brother.”

Cassian raised his hands, exposing his palms in surrender, and said, “We’ll tell you everything, but we should eat first, or only the ants will enjoy my bread.”

Cassian took Athos from Nesta’s arms so she could greet her sisters properly, and edged Nora and Maya toward their embroidered pillows, the others following suit.

As he caught Azriel’s eyes, his brother left his mate’s side and inched closer.

“Hey, Puppy,” Cassian murmured into his son’s ear, guiding his attention toward Az. “Do you see this guy?” A nod. “If you don’t like the noise, or if there are too many people, or you just don’t feel very good and your mother and I are not around, you go to him, okay?”

Azriel inhaled slowly, his shadows swirling with the movement. A black curl reached out tentatively, and Athos studied it. His warm eyes rose to Azriel’s then, who patiently waited for the boy to make the first move. “Do they hurt?” He asked, one little finger reaching back.

“No.” To prove his point, he let the black tendril wrap around Athos’ finger. “They’re very curious, though. They like puppies, I’ve been told..”

Athos’s gasp turned into a quiet giggle. “They tickle.”

Soon they were all seated, letting fresh food and berry juice pass from hand to hand, talking about everything and nothing at all. From the projects Nyx wanted to explore to modernize Velaris—the male, now more than 50 years old, had a mind so brilliant it turned Dawn’s thinkers green with envy—, to the journey across the continent Lucien had promised Elain as a gift for their latest anniversary—only a couple of arrangements left to make before their departure—to the obvious new double-addition to their ranks, Azriel and Gwyn’s twins. There was so much to tell, so much to catch up on.

Cassian looked at his brother and found him smiling tenderly at the boy, love and gratitude filling his eyes.

“But let’s focus on the real stars of this day,” Mor said, face still splotchy from all the crying. Her brown eyes jumped from one little face to another, as if she wanted to imprint their soft features into her brain as quickly as she could.

“When is your birthday?” Rhys asked, taking a sip from his glass. “We have missed five of them. We must fix it.”

Maya didn’t even finish chewing her food before replying. “Four.” To prove her point, she raised three jam-sticky fingers in the air. Rhys chuckled, bending his head. “My apologies.”

“At the crack of dawn on the 23rd of September,” three curly heads turned one after another, entranced by their mother’s voice. “After ten hours of labor,” Nesta added pointedly, twisting Maya’s dark strands around her finger, “Came Nora, then Maya, and then Athos.”

Nesta exhaled heavily, Cassian replicating the gesture. “Our brave boy.”

At his words, the groups shared a sort of understanding.

There was this belief, among Illyrians, that every time a baby was born, they were faced with two options—two mothers. If they got too scared by the world surrounding them, so dark and cruel and full of terrors, the Mother would cradle them in her arms and take them someplace else, where no harm would ever find them. Nesta, Cassian knew, was still plagued with nightmares of her pained, desperate screams filling the silence left by their son. He’d come out of the womb with the birth cord wrapped around his neck. Despite the midwife’s lightning speed in freeing his airways, it hadn’t been enough. But then, just as the sun peeked from behind the mountain tops, time had seemed to slow as a small, frail, tentative wailing filled the room.

“Really?” Gwyn exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. She placed a hand on her bump, forcing her lips to curve in a smile despite the tears brimming her teal eyes. “They’re supposed to be due at the beginning of August. Close enough.”

“Sissy’s birthday is in August, too!”

“No, Nora,” Cassian laughed, grateful for the distraction. He placed a cheese stick in her hand. She chewed on it without hesitation. “Her birthday is in June.”

“Who is Sissy?” Lucien asked. “Are we missing someone?” He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe there were more.

“Trixie—Beatrix,” Nesta amended, “is our oldest.” By the look on their faces, Cassian knew they were all doing the math.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned, “She will be here, soon.”

“She already is.”

All eyes turned toward the house, to the proud female stepping out the backdoor.

Joyous screams rose from the kids, their smiles lighting up like fireflies as they stood and ran to their sister.

Trixie crouched, arms open, bracing for the collision. She kissed their cheeks, their little noses, their soft curls. Cassian’s heart swelled in his chest at the sight.

“Such cute overalls, Puppy,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him into a spin.

His son smiled from ear to ear. “You gave it to me!”

“I did, didn’t I?” She gestured for the kids to sit down again with one hand, the other holding the ribbons tied around a box. Trixie bent to leave a soft kiss against Nesta’s temple, placing the box on the grass at her side before rising again and making her way to him. She knelt behind him, and Cassian moved his wings to make space for her body as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, moving to sit at his side. Nyx, to her right, looked anywhere but at her, the tips of his pointed ears turning a deep shade of red. Cassian was tempted to call him out, but knew his “over-protectiveness” would only piss off Trixie.

“Everyone, this is Trixie,” Cassian said, grinning like a cat. “Trixie-”

“Everyone,” she cleared her throat, bobbing her head once in acknowledgment.

Maya made her way onto Trixie’s lap, passing food to her older sister, and they flowed back into easy conversation.

From the opposite side of the blanket, Amren nodded in Trixie’s direction, “How did you find that one?”

“She found us,” was Nesta’s reply. She opened the box containing the Illyrian’s typical pastries Cassian had asked Trixie to buy, and found a little corner to place them among the rest of the food. “She had made the house her own. I found her sleeping in our bed when we came here.”

Cassian, Mother damned him, had come dangerously close to losing it when he had realized they were not alone in the house. The dagger was in his hand within moments, ready to take down any threat, when Nesta had climbed down the stairs on nimble feet and told him, in that no-nonsense way of hers, that there was a little girl asleep in the main bedroom, and he should cook dinner for three that evening. Cassian had kissed her senseless, and just like that they had found themselves with a daughter. Well, Cassian wished it had been that easy. Trixie, who had seen and lived through more than any fourteen-year-old should, had waged war on them for months, trying her very best to push them over the edge. But Nesta was relentless, and so was he. Nothing she could’ve said or done would have made them turn their backs on her. So she stayed, and soon enough Beatrix became Trixie became Sissy. A blessing, that’s what she’d been. She had healed some intrinsic part of Nesta that not even Cassian had been able to reach. He would forever be indebted to her for that reason only. Her wings had not been clipped, so he’d been able to teach her how to fly, and fight, and dream again. His daughter in all the ways that mattered, and then some.

“The house was big enough for all of us,” Nesta glanced pointedly at her, adding, “It still is.”

Trixie stared right back at her, one of those wordless conversations happening between the two females. Cassian was used to it.

“That’s amazing,” Elain smiled brighter than the sun. “I am so, so happy for you guys.”

“Please,” Gwyn whined, “Don’t cry or I’ll cry, too.” The two laughed, tears slipping free anyway.

“I can see why you kept contacts to a minimum,” Lucien passed a napkin to Elain, gently pulling locks of hair away from her face as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I would’ve kept this little corner of heaven a secret from the world, too.”

Cassian glanced at Nesta and found that she was already looking at him. Now, her eyes seemed to say. A tug on the bond confirmed that.

“Speaking of which,” Cassian exhaled. Should he break the news gently? Or should he go straight for it, and adapt to the consequences?

Nesta, it seemed, had already made that choice for both of them. “We’re coming back to Velaris.”

Feyre could barely contain her enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Really,” Cassian echoed. “It will be good for the kids. They should make friends and play with other kids their age and drive us crazy. Am I right?”

Maya looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her bright eyes. Nora, closest to Nesta, was already giggling.

“Mother spares us all,” Rhys murmured. They had their hands full, and they had never left this mountain. Cassian already felt weak in the knees at the idea of unleashing the triples on Velaris. But, fuck, how he wanted to take them on walks along the Sidra, or see the House turn into an even bigger mother-hen for Nesta’s kids, or teach them how to fly on one of its many balconies. And Starfall! They would love Starfall, he was sure of it. And the week-long celebrations for Solstice, with presents and hot cocoa and-

“Oh, no,” Trixie’s voice called him back to the moment. She was facing Nyx, answering a question he must’ve asked her while he was lost in his thoughts. “I’m going to stay here.”

Nora gasped, and Nesta was instantly there to calm their daughter down before she started what they had taken to call “the domino cry”.

“It’s okay,” Trixie said while rubbing Maya’s arms. The pout on her face was not a good sign. The trembling chin was even worse. Cassian gazed down at Athos, looking for any hint of distress. Trixie went on, “We’ll see each other every week, I promise.”

“But why can’t you come with us?” Nora sniffed. “It’s unafaire.”

“Unfair,” Nesta murmured to her, “And she can’t come with us because there are other kids who need her here.”

“Other kids?” Athos scrunched his little nose.

He nodded. “You three have each other, but other kids might not be so lucky. Trixie was among them, a long time ago.”

“But Sissy is our Sissy.”

“I am, yes,” Trixie said, “But maybe I can be that for all the other children who need a Sissy as well, don’t you think?”

Nora blinked at her a couple of times, mulling over the words. “Will they become Ladybug, Butterfly, and Puppy, too?”

Behind her, Nesta shrugged. “Why not.”

Cassian’s heart made a backflip inside his chest. He met his mate’s serene gaze, the most delicate pink staining her cheeks. They would end up with a legion of kids if Nesta had her way. Cassian couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t.

Cassian mirrored her smile with one of his own. “We should start thinking about names, then.”

“You guys are out of your minds,” Amren commented, but the concern in her voice didn’t match the grin stretching her red-painted lips.

Athos started laughing, the giggles turning into full belly laughs as his sisters joined him. And as the wind made lullabies of rustling leaves, and the smiles of his family outshone the sun itself, Cassian knew with absolute certainty the one reason he was still there, alive and content. Or maybe it was three.

[ivanttakethis]

Before Round 29 - Tov’s Log

Tov (?) vs. Jae (?) -> ??? Win

————————————————————

Lang went out in a blaze of glory.

All fire and flame and fervent display.

A comet burning up in the atmosphere.

Self immolation.

It was so unlike the quiet girl from Tov’s memories.

The one who would take things apart and put them back together just to pass the time.

The one with the big brown eyes that always looked a bit sorrowful.

The one Tallis and Nyx both cared for so dearly.

There was no body to bury.

For once, the audience was horrified rather than delighted.

Tov was too, in a muted sort of way, under layers of other traumas too thick for her to process.

But she watched.

She saw Lang.

She let the image of Lang’s dress set alight burn itself into her memory.

Isn’t that what it was all about?

Wanting to be seen.

Wanting to be remembered.

Isn’t that what they all wanted?

Tov made her choice that night.

She had to keep living, keep going.

Someone had to remember those that had been lost.

Lang. Akane. Khoi. All of the souls who came before.

Every name.

Every face.

She would carve them all into the stars so no one would forget who they were.

And she would wear them on her sleeves so she wouldn't forget who she was doing this for.

———

Tov went to the makeup artist an hour before her call time with a sketchbook full of her classmates' constellations and a special request.

“Can you paint these on my arms?”

She had Himei's constellation, a spider lily, painted over her heart.

The white ink stood out against her dark skin.

Tov wasn't just wearing the night sky, she embodied it.

And her dress embodied a new dawn.

The stars are still shining, but the sun is rising. There is still light ahead of her.

Nyx. Dian. Solei. Aurien. Tallis. Wren.

There was still hope.

Tov stood just off stage right and waited for her cue. For once she felt sure of herself. Sure of her purpose.

Cassio rested their hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Make sure to stand tall and sing loud so your friends can hear you up there.” They said, nodding to the star filled sky.

It reminded Tov of what Wren said back in the hospital.

“Do it for all of the stars you named in their honor.”

“As long as you’re alive, you carry their memories with you and they live on too.”

For so long, carrying the memories of her late classmates felt like a burden.

The guilt of surviving an ever-tightening noose around her neck.

But all this time it had truly been a gift.

She had the chance to make sure they wouldn’t be forgotten.

And she intended to fight for it.

Tov turned to her guardian and nodded firmly, “I will.”

This was how she would burn brighter.

This was how she would become the Sun.

————————————————————

Rest in peace Lang, you will be missed.

At least she got to go out on her own terms (despite traumatizing literally everyone there) 😔

Please go look at the insanely good art @its-langgg made of Lang’s final moments. It inspired the opening section of this log.

End of Round 29 is next. Then the lead up to Round 30!

Tagging @lookatmysillies (minor Himei and Tallis mention).

And @rockwgooglyeyes (minor Nyx mention).

[mimisempai]

I can't bear the thought of losing you

Summary

After preparing a romantic surprise dinner for Crowley at the bookstore with Maggie's help, Aziraphale didn't expect the demon's reaction to the sight of candles.

Notes

Some fears are uncontrollable...

On Ao3

Rating G -  1380 words

"Perfect!"

Aziraphale, hands on hips, looked with satisfaction at what he had just prepared.

The table was beautifully set, so well done that it would be envied at the Ritz.

A bottle of one of his finest vintages sat in the center.

Soft music from a gramophone and candlelight added the final touch to the romantic atmosphere.

Thank you, Maggie, for your advice.

"Hello Maggie."

The record saleswoman turned with a big smile on her lips, "Hello Aziraphale!" then frowned and added, "You didn't order anything, did you?"

Aziraphale stammered a little embarrassed, "Um... well... actually I have come about a slightly more personal matter."

Maggie's eyes rounded as she leaned in close and said, "I'm listening."

Aziraphale blushed slightly and said, "Ahem... here, I... I'd like to surprise, uh... well, you know, organize a dinner or something... and I could use some advice, you see."

Maggie nodded understandingly and took his arm, leading him to the back of the shop.

So, thanks to his friend's advice, he'd arranged this little surprise dinner for himself and Crowley. For no particular reason.

He turned when he heard the bookshop door open and saw the demon approaching. 

But when he reached him, instead of the look of surprise or delight the angel expected to see on Crowley's face, all he saw was that the demon was frozen.

He called out, "Crowley?"

The demon asked, "What is this?"

Then, without waiting for Aziraphale's answer, he ran to the candlesticks and extinguished them one by one, repeating over and over, "You must not, fire... fire is too dangerous... not fire... vanished... in fire."

Hearing those words, Aziraphale realized why Crowley had reacted the way he had.

The bookshop fire.

He rushed to him and grabbed his hands as he had just extinguished the last candle.

The angel said softly, "Crowley, my dear, it's all extinguished. There's no more fire. Please come with me."

The demon let himself be led to the sofa, muttering over and over, "Not the fire... not the fire... Angel... gone."

Aziraphale helped him sit down, then knelt in front of him and murmured softly, "Crowley, I'm here. There's no fire. All is well. Please come back to me."

He had to repeat it several times until Crowley came to and looked at him with haunted eyes and said, "No fire. You're here, Angel." 

He moved his hands forward and felt around Aziraphale to make sure he was really there. The angel took his hands and said in a firm voice, "Yes, I'm here. I'm all right. There's no fire."

He rose to his feet and, without letting go of the demon's hands, sat down beside him and asked quietly, "Are you with me, now?"

Crowley nodded slowly.

He had to repeat it several times until Crowley came to and looked at him with haunted eyes saying, "No fire. You're here, Angel." 

He moved his hands forward and felt around Aziraphale to make sure he was really there. The angel took his hands and said in a firm voice, "Yes, I'm here. I'm all right. There's no fire."

He rose to his feet and, without letting go of the demon's hands, sat down beside him and asked quietly, "Are you with me, now?"

Crowley nodded slowly.

After a few moments, the demon's voice breaking, he said, "Angel, you don't know how bad it was... it was terrible. There was fire everywhere and all I could feel was that you were gone. You were just gone. I couldn't feel you anymore."

Aziraphale realized for the first time that they'd never talked about it. He knew his bookshop had burned down, but since Adam had put everything back the way it was, or almost, he hadn't seen it himself.

Seeing the state Crowley was in as he recalled that moment, he only began to realize how traumatic it had been for him. 

It was then that he remembered something.

"Aziraphale? Are you here?"

He couldn't see the demon, but he could hear him, so he replied, "Good question. Not certain. Never done this before. Can you hear me?"

Crowley immediately replied, "Of course I can hear you."

Aziraphale said softly, "Afraid I've rather made a mess of things. Did you go to Alpha Centauri?"

Crowley replied in a strange voice, "Nah, I changed my mind. Stuff happened. I lost my best friend."

Aziraphale replied in a sympathetic voice, "I'm so sorry to hear it." 

It was strange how when you remembered something, you noticed things you hadn't before.

How could he not have noticed Crowley's tone?

How sad he sounded.

How wounded.

True, the situation hadn't lent itself to a more elaborate exchange, but still.

He asked Crowley quietly, "Will you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About the fire in my shop."

The Bentley sped off and Crowley tried unsuccessfully to reach Aziraphale by phone. 

As he approached the bookshop, he saw that it was on fire and that the firemen were already there. 

He parked the Bentley and rushed from it into the store.

A fireman called out to him, "Are you the owner of this establishment?"

Crowley turned as he strode forward and replied, "Do I look like I'm running a bookshop?"

Ignoring the firemen, he stepped forward, opened the door with a wave of his hand and entered the burning store.

The doors slammed shut.

He ran and shouted, "Aziraphale, Aziraphale where the Heaven are you, you idiot? I can't find you!"

He looked around and kept shouting, "Aziraphale, for God's-- For Satan's-- Ah! For somebody's sake, where are you?!"

The fire hose shot through the glass and knocked him to the ground. 

Stunned, he realized the awful truth.

He sat up and said, a sob in his voice as anger rose within him, "You've gone."

Without hope, he screamed in rage, "Someone killed my best friend! Bastards! All of you!"

At this point in the story, Crowley was in tears and his voice reminded Aziraphale of the voice he had in the pub when he said he had lost his best friend.

What pain he must have endured. Alone.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and held him close, whispering words of comfort into his hair again and again. 

Un peu plus tard, when the tears had subsided, Crowley pulled away a little and looked up. Seeing his wet cheeks, Azirphale took out his handkerchief and gently wiped them, saying sheepishly, "I'm so sorry, my dear. I didn't realize how much it had affected you."

Crowley raised his head and retorted in a slightly hoarse voice, "Who did you think I was talking about when I told you I'd lost my best friend, huh?"

Aziraphale replied a little stung, "We left each other angry and when I called you you told me you were meeting an old friend, what did you expect me to believe?"

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments, then Crowley shook his head and replied with a half-smile on his lips, "Our communication issues didn't start yesterday, did they?"

Aziraphale nodded and replied, "Or the day before."

Crowley dropped his forehead to the angel's shoulder and whispered so softly that Aziraphale almost didn't hear him, "I can't imagine living in a world where you're not."

The angel replied quietly, "Oh, Crowley, you don't have to imagine."

Crowley replied quietly, "I lived it, if only for a short time. I really thought I'd lost you forever. And I almost did again, not so long ago. I can't, Angel, I can't-"

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him even tighter and said in a soothing voice, "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.

"Is that a promise?" asked Crowley in an almost childish voice.

Aziraphale moved back a little and grabbed Crowley's chin, saying firmly, "I promise. Because I can't live in a world where you don't either."

He pressed his lips to the demon's in a tender kiss and held him close again. 

After a few moments, he nuzzled his hair, "What do you want to do tonight?"

Crowley replied softly, "Let's stay like this for a while. Let me feel you until I'm sure you're here, safe and sound. And then afterwards, well, it seems to me that you had a surprise planned... so I'd like to enjoy it anyway... but without the candles, please." 

Aziraphale laughed lightly against his hair, "I swear, without the candles."

They stayed like that for a few more moments in that comforting embrace that told Crowley that his angel was indeed here, safe and sound. 

Later, despite the lack of candles, the dinner was no less romantic. On the contrary.

Once again, they had poured their hearts out, listening to each other, talking to each other, strengthening their love.

What could be more romantic?

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[lookismstuff]

458 Chapters Later, Lookism Webtoon/Manhwa is Still About Lookism (Posting About This Again)

Apparently the discourse that "Lookism is no longer about lookism" is so dominant in the fandom. But I disagree with this take. I don't think the lookism theme is gone.

For a longer, more detailed argument please read my older post here.

But for a shorter argument (SPOILERS ALERT):

Do you think Daniel is now free from lookism, when in the current arc, Logan still calls him Pikachu because it's easier for Logan to see him as Pikachu no matter how far Daniel has come? That even when Daniel had to defend himself he had to call Logan "pig" like those bullies in his past?

Here are some of the evidence of lookism theme across the story in the recent arcs (some I have talked about in that old post, some I haven't).

D.G., one of the main villains, is a juvenile criminal masquerading as an idol. And is worshipped in and outside of the webtoon for his beauty.

Daniel is only treated better by his relatives after he slimmed down and even then they still can't believe that he made such a tremendous effort to grow.

Vasco and Burn Knuckles are still stigmatized because of their looks, that's why Eugene could co-opt/abuse the cops' authority to round up Burn Knuckles and Big Deal, you see. It's because the general public and the cops sees the two groups as criminals.

The businesses that Ilhae (Workers) crew are running depend on various facets of lookism: using a pretty girl to run an underground fight club, another pretty girl to cover up sexual assaults, drug trade, and illegal imprisonment (Vivi & Mitsuki, Ms.Raccoon of One MCN),

Hangyeol OF WORKERS IS ALSO RUNNING A PLASTIC SURGERY CLINIC THAT COVERS UP AN ILLEGAL ASYLUM & MALPRACTICE.

Charles Choi, a 0th generation killer, has been using his facade of genteel respectability and his daughter's beauty to appear as a legit businessman.

Channing of Ansan Public branded his opponents with a tattoo pen to humiliate them. Because tattoos are still stigmatized in many places worldwide including in Korea.

Johan and Vin hide their disability because society sees it as a shame or a blemish. This shame is related to lookism. At one point, Vin even stated that he had abandoned his dream of becoming a rapper because people at the illegal fight club saw his impaired eye, while Johan insists that nobody should know about his visual impairment (and is angry that Zack knows).

Jake and alternate body Daniel could enter and work at a nightclub because they don't look like minors, while the real Daniel (before Gun's training arc) does look like one so he couldn't enter before he showed his Workers pin.

The reason why Jiho was imprisoned after a series of crimes was his insecurities about zero acceptance in society from lookism-related reasons.

So the fate of Big Deal was indirectly related to lookism because: A) it was related to Jiho's illegal gambling case and B) Sinu was trafficked and enslaved by Workers through a deceptively pretty girl (Mitsuki).

Olly of Hostel A was thought to be insane because of his looks when in fact he was both a sharp, sly leader and a traumatized kid.

Mary had to cover up her judoka past because of lookism (she used to be bigger than she is now). And she could only rely on Vin, who knew her back then and helped her during a traumatic event.

Yet now there's Taejin, someone who's possibly related to Mary's and Vin's traumatic past. EDIT: And he is both able-bodied and good-looking (seemingly flawless from the start compared to Vin and Mary).

Taesoo, Hudson's teacher from Ansan, has a trauma about his missing eye (specifically the loss of it through his duel with James Lee/past D.G.) so much that it affected his self-confidence and destroyed his faith in his technique. He also retreats from society (and enjoys wealth, but still).

Jerry of Big Deal is often thought and treated as older than he is, which makes him uncomfortable because he's still a teen. I think there were several ocassions when he was called "uncle" or was even thought as someone (Jake?)'s dad.

EDIT: Jin Jang, formerly of God Dog, Big Deal and now of K House, is underestimated because of his unassuming looks but is actually a ruthless gang leader and analyst.

EDIT: Luah of Big Deal is petite and pretty, so she's underestimated a lot. But she's actually a great investigator for her crew.

Hope this helps.

[blackicephantom]

A Divine Taste III

Tired and slightly scared sapphire blue eyes locked with still unnatural glittering deep emeralds, with no will to look away. The fingers still on his neck trembled slightly and he tried with every fiber of his being to set them down. But every time he tried, something inside his head demanded he keep them there, to show the one in front of him that he liked the mark there.

Another few seconds ticked by with no movement from either of them, before Sampo slowly stood up, gaze still locked with the blond and rounded the table to stand right beside the younger. Said male slid his own chair backwards, so he wouldn’t lose the eye contact they had and simply waited with a hammering pulse and jumping heart. He watched, entranced, as the taller male took off his gloves and threw them back on the table. Held his faltering breath when those warm and big hands gently cupped his still warm cheeks, thumbs softly caressing the skin in small circles. It was such a tender touch, so soft, as if he was something fragile and not a battle hardened soldier that spent a little over a decade fighting sheer endless waves of monsters. And Gepard must confess: he is not used to such a delicate touch.

He is a soldier first and foremost. And there is no place for the pleasantries of a lover or something similar on the frontlines. And not even his older sister could gift him these warm gestures, just as traumatized and marked by their upbringing as himself. But right here, right now? Another swipe of the older’s fingers and he couldn’t help but whimper, which made the vampire coo at him. “You poor, poor thing.” His voice was deep and smooth and went to places it had absolutely no right to be.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the hands holding his face slid lower. One last caress to his flaming cheekbones, down to his quivering jaw where they stopped again. Gepard hadn't even noticed that his own hand had clamped tightly over the bite on his neck, nor that he had at some point closed his eyes. At least until his face was gently tilted upward and one warm hand covered his own, massaging the muscle there till it relaxed and his fingers were tenderly pried away from his own skin. Embarrassed, he tried to turn his face away from those piercing gems, but Sampo wouldn’t let him. “Now, now my dear. No need to run away.”  With that the conman stepped closer, right in between the now twitching legs of the Captain and bowed his own head down while placing his own hand on the faded mark. When said hand put just the slightest pressure on mentioned mark Gepard couldn’t help another small sound and blushed even brighter then moments ago. His whole body felt like an exposed wire and every touch felt like a high voltage charge.

Meanwhile the blue haired vampire had to trample down every desire to take and consume. The other was his very own picture of beauty and temptation and it  got harder and harder to resist the voice in his own head, the poisonous whisper of `He’s offering himself.´ and `He liked it just as much.´ Taking a much needed breather, Sampo continued his ministrations. Gentle pats, tender swipes, until the esteemed Captain of the Silvermanes was nothing more than a breathing puddle of relaxation and twitching muscles. That’s the moment Sampo decided to strike. With one hand in the other's soft blond hair, he gave a very subtle tug, making their eyes meet once again. His own were still brighter than usual, he just knew it, but they really needed that talk before he did something stupid again.

Keeping Gepards head up he looked his favorite human straight in his enchanting blue eyes before talking. “Tell me Gepard: what in Aeon's name were you thinking back there? What foolishness possessed you to force my hand and make me feed off you, when it was clear as day you were already at your limits?” With the last sentence he tightened his hands, still careful not to hurt the soldier before him. Then he added with a hiss “What for fucks sake were you hoping to proof there?”  All the muscles in the sitting body started to tense up again, arms and legs locking up while he desperately tried to keep as still as possible. Sampo knew, somewhere in his head, that he was being mean and rather unfair. But his lovely human has to understand that he has crossed a certain line there. He needs Gepard to understand the danger he put both of them in, intensional or not. Needed to make sure the pretty blond before him wouldn’t try this again, at least not in such a dire situation.

He watched as pale hands clenched on top of his legs and those lovely sapphires finally flit away from his own. Watched as Gepard swallowed again and sighed. Followed the barely noticeable tremble with attentive eyes and waited. But just two minutes in and he knew the other wouldn’t answer, so he clenched his own fist for no more than a second and frowned. He let his gaze wander again: starting at the clenching and unclenching hands, up the now heaving chest and the bobbing throat and lastly towards the flaming cheeks and slowly watering eyes. It was the last discovery that made the vampire pause and let go of that soft hair. Searching the young face he slid his hand down again and wiped at the single tear that wanted to escape, now worried he had overstepped somehow. “Geppie?” 

The blond heard what the other had said, but was simply overwhelmed with the situation as a whole. The proximity to Sampo and his low, serious reprimand as well as the returning guilt in his belly. He knew why he did all that. But how could he explain that to the other without exposing everything else? The underlying worry and anger was not helping either. He was so lost in his own head he had not even noticed his own body's reaction, at least until his vision grew blurry and those gentle fingers were back on his cheek. He only snapped out of it when he heard that damned nickname of his and tried to gather his thoughts for a bit. Looking up again, watching that handsome face frown and green eyes jumping all over his face gave him enough courage to answer the older. “I’m…..sorry.” he started. A deep breath and he tried again. “Our situation had been less than…..optimal. And it wasn’t the first time I was faced with certain death.” Now his hands started to fidget with the fabric of his pants, trying to distract himself from the intense atmosphere. “So I did the only thing I could think of, the only decision every soldier is capable of and allowed to make for themselves.” With the last words he was only whispering, in equal parts embarrassed and afraid because he was sure Sampo understood the implication he was going for.

So much for never telling him….

Every person that went into the military knew what their duty was. Every soldier knew that their next deployment could also be their last, that their next battle could be the one they breathed their last breath. 

So every soldier had one choice: how to leave the battlefield. Either they fought and won, getting to live another day and fight another battle. Or they fought, faced with the inevitability of death, choosing to die by an enemy's blade or their own. And Gepard had seen many make this choice. In all his years of being a soldier, a captain, he had seen many men die in some of the cruelest ways possible. He just never thought he would have to make that choice himself, always thought he would die outside in the bleak whiteness and cruel cold of the snow plains. Not in a frozen cave with Sampo Koski.

The following silence was…..unpleasant. As well as the sudden stillness of the taller male. And that alone made Gepard nervous, so nervous in fact, that his left hand started to stray upward again, a habit he developed shortly after that specific ordeal. But right before it could reach its destination, one of Sampos caught it and lifted it to the others lips, which put a feather light kiss on the scarred knuckles. Blue eyes grew wide and his jaw grew slack with that sudden show of affection. 

All the while Sampo couldn't believe what he had just heard. His rotten heart couldn't take the feelings the pure soul before him made him feel. This dumb, self-sacrificing, attractive and too good for this world moron. But…. He wouldn't have him any other way. 

Sighing he let go of all the tension and put their foreheads together in a very intimate manner. “Don't you EVER do this again Gep. You hear me? Never again.” Sampo didn’t make it a command, would never dare to manipulate the younger in such a way, but still spoke with determination and absolute seriousness. Even if he knew that the Captain couldn’t, and  WOULDN’T, make a promise he was unable to keep. Said male told him as much and yet still surprised him. First he put his hands on his sides, just above the cutouts, then pressed gently against his forehead. “I can’t promise you that. But….I’ll try my best.”

It was soft, but for the conman it was more than enough. After these words left the others lips, a sudden wave of warmth and tender affection rushed through him closely followed by the desire to kiss the stupid blond till he couldn’t remember what they talked about. But he held himself back, trying to remind himself that Gepard was still injured and needed to rest. Desperately tried to talk himself out of begging for another taste of the soldier, in whatever way he was comfortable with. So he slowly pulled away, put some distance between the soft skin and his growing greed, ignoring the warmth of those gentle hands sliding down from his sides, over his waist to his hips. But he was a weak, weak creature when it came to the pretty Landau and his still glowing eyes zeroed in on the faded bite. Eying the two little holes he let go of Gepards hand and put his own fingers right below it, so close yet not touching and he just couldn't keep himself from asking.

“Say Captain, I noticed that new little tick of yours. Any specific reason for that?” Absentmindedly the blue haired man shifted his hand so he could swipe his thumb over the still slightly raised skin, only stopping when it started to feel strangely warm to the touch. Looking at Gepards face he couldn’t contain a small snort, eyes growing soft and tender touch moving away. He was not blushing, no no, the poor man was so red in the face he was almost glowing, the color spreading over his cheeks right down to his neck  and lower. Just this alone kindled the vampire's desire and stroked his hunger, made him lick his lips when the only answer he got was a tilted head and shy hands gripping tighter. `This is dangerous.´ were his thoughts.

But what was a little danger, if he could watch Belobog’s beloved Silvermane Captain squirm and blush, unable to hide his embarrassment yet not moving away? What was all this, if not a test for his renewed self control? Another kind of tension was growing, at least until Gepard wanted to turn away, pulling on his wound and wincing. Only then did Sampo move away, pulling his hands away and taking a few steps back. Shaking his head he tried to clear his head from the haze of his hunger, startled at the intensity of his feelings. He didn’t miss the way those pale hands hovered in the air for a moment, didn’t miss the way ice blue snapped up to his face and stared straight at his mouth. But that only meant he couldn’t miss how one of aforementioned hands placed itself on his right side or the now slumping shoulders. Concern overtook his desire and worry overruled his hunger, especially when the scent of iron started to waft off Gepard. Swallowing, Sampo steeled himself. “Geppie.” His voice was deeper than just moments ago, immediately catching the others' attention. “You’re bleeding.”

Landau blue eyes stared right into his soul when slightly trembling hands unbuttoned the bottom part of the black shirt, only to show a red train on the white bandages. The blond didn’t say anything for a few seconds, before simply leaning back with a sigh. It felt as if that little revelation finally broke the spell both of them were under. “Serval’s going to kill me.” was Gepards only reaction, which made Sampo snort in return. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad.” But the younger just gave him a flat look, not unlike all the other ones he got when he escaped the guards after a little bit of mischief. “This is the third time this week.” Ohhhhh, ok, ouch. “Maaaaaaybe she will have mercy? I mean, being her dear brother must have some perks?” A chuckle and a head shake were his answer. “Sadly, this doesn’t apply when said brother got himself into big trouble again, that could have been prevented one way or another.” It was clear for everyone who cared to look, that the Landau siblings cared deeply for one another. Sampo had seen it for himself quite often over the years, with the last instance being the threatening at the shop.

Seconds ticked by without either of them saying anything and it would have been almost comfortable, if the red bleeding through the white wasn’t slowly spreading. It would be kind of romantic, if only Sampo could stop staring, could stop his eyes from burning in the very same color as the ruined dressings of the Captain. As if hypnotized he stepped closer again, letting his fingers dance playfully over the bloody cloth, putting the slightest possible pressure over the wet spot. It really shouldn’t feel so thrilling, so…….arousing, to see the other bleed. But ever since that cave, since his brief taste of what must be the closest thing to divinity, he craved more. It was as if his undead body NEEDED Gepard, his warmth, his compassion and pureness. 

He……. he needed……. 

Feeling himself start to slip, Sampo jerked away from the blond as if burned. Panting he put one of his hands in front of his face and squeezed his eyes closed. Taking another moment to compose himself he peeked at his lovely human and felt something hot burn down his spine. Gepard had an adorable flush across his face while he squeezed his legs together and pulled his shirt back over his bandages, his gaze anywhere but him. Groaning he put more distance between them, feeling a pull to touch again, slightly more to the left, to feel those magnificent muscles jerk and twitch from his adoring touches. Wants to kiss up and down that pale neck, caress that beautiful face again and shower it with affection.

He needed…. to get close again.

Needed…. just one more…

Growling deep in his throat he reprimanded himself to get a fucking grip, not noticing that his companion stood up and made his way over to him. At least until he heard another hiss from said male and jerked his head up to look closer. Watched a bead of sweat roll down his, now, pain ridden face. Swallowing the rising hunger and panic, the vampire knew he had to leave, NOW. Or else he would do something unforgivable. And it seemed that his sweet, sweet soldier came to the same conclusion, because instead of continuing towards him, he eased up and frowned. Then he sighed and slowly turned around, taking careful steps toward what Sampo guessed was his bedroom, which confused him. Against his better judgment he followed the blond soldier, always a safe distance away, yet close enough to catch him should he stumble. It took no more than a few minutes before Gepard sat down on his mattress, breathing harder than before and feeling even more exhausted. And if the blue haired male wasn’t mistaken, as he rarely was with Geppie, he looked……disappointed? Or maybe sad?

Both of these emotions were uncommon for the ever so steadfast shield of Belobog. And that irked the thief somehow. Was there something the other had been hoping for? Did he expect something to happen?

Right in that moment the little voice started to whisper again `Maybe he wants you too.´ And that was not a question, it was an almost obvious observation. Still standing in front of the door Sampo didn’t know what to do. He wanted to get closer, wanted to FINALLY hold the blond and give him everything he deserves and then some, but he was scared he would overwhelm the younger with his hunger and possessive lust. Knew from the start if he got to hold him even once, he wouldn’t ever let go again.  Before he could think further about Gepards strange behavior, the male talked to him. But his voice was quiet, unusually so. Just like all the times he tries not to show any unnecessary emotions. Like the military machine he was trained to be. “Would you get me the First-Aid kit before you leave, please?”

He turned around without words, stepping right into the bathroom before he could watch the other start to peel away the bloody fabric. Took a few moments to search through the well organized and well stocked cabinets and grab the little red box. Looking at the container he pondered what steps to take next, because as much as he loved the Captain's company, he should really heed Serval's words and let him recover in peace. Who knows what atrocities he would commit with the blond still wounded and rather valuable? Even if he would never want to seriously hurt him, his instinct would act up one day, as the situation in the kitchen had shown. Sighing he turned again and promptly froze.

While Sampo was in the bathroom, Gepard had done his damnedest to remove  the bandages without hurting himself further. To his absolute relief he was successful and he saw that the wound had only split open at the lower edge, instead of reopening completely. He wanted to wipe away what little excess blood was still left, when the feeling of eyes pinned him in place. If Gepard had to make a comparison it would be the gaze of a predator looking at his next prey and as he looked up he even felt like it. Gone was the gentle jade glow from before, replaced with an intense red that pulled him in and held him captive. 

He knew that look. The look of hunger and thirst. It was the thing Sampo had warned him about and compared it to slowly going mad. Those red irises slowly slid down his upper body, till they rested on the sluggishly bleeding wound and stayed there. And the young Captain could see how hard the vampire was fighting for control: saw the tension in those deft hands and his arms, almost crushing the poor First-Aid kit. Couch the twitch of his shapely legs, which probably wanted to step away and yet stayed rooted to the ground. But most obvious was the tense jaw coupled with the firm press of his teeth.

Gulping down the sudden nervousness he tried to get the older ones attention. “Sampo?” 

Red flickered to green and right back, gaze snapping up and right back down. But despite the circumstances Gepard didn’t feel threatened, quite the opposite actually. With Sampos' whole attention on him he felt a certain thrill, an excitement he never felt before. When said male took a single step forward his pulse skyrocketed and the same feeling from the kitchen grew inside him. But it also felt wrong, because Sampo was not really there in his head, mind slowly taken over by the scent of his blood and the need to feed. And no matter how much he wants for this to happen, he wants Sampo to be present. Call him insane or something, but he wants the criminal to really taste him, to savor his blood.

So he was rather startled when the other suddenly stood right in front of him, eyes still glued to his side. And just as he wanted to cover it up, pull the bandage up again, one of the vampire's warm hands snatched his at the wrist and pushed it down on the mattress. The hold was firm but not painful, so Gepard just swallowed and waited. Next the First-Aid kit was put down while Sampo settled down on his knees, right there in between the soldiers legs. “Sampo?!?!” was his startled reaction, not used to such a…..suggestive position. 

Meanwhile Sampo still tried to keep hold of his crumbled control, wishing for someone to crash into the room and stop this madness. But there’s no one. Only him and Gepard.

Against his will he leant closer to the warm and inviting skin, breathing little puffs of warm air against it, making it twitch and tremble. Still holding on to Gepards hand he leant closer still, mouth watering the closer he got to his goal and couldn’t help the deep groan. When strong legs tried to close around him, desperately trying to keep him away, he just shoved them apart again with his shoulders. And to make sure they stayed that way he put his other hand on the inner thigh, just above the knee, pulling a cute little squeak from the young human. Using the momentary distraction he pushed himself forward, tongue lolling out and licking a broad and wet stripe up the bleeding part of the wound.

With a yelp Gepard tried to wiggle away from the strange sensation, careful not to further pull on the injury. But Sampos' hand that was on his thigh reached under his leg and right around, pinning it in place and rendering him almost immobile. Another long lick made him gasp and clench the hand still held by the vampire. It felt weird and yet somehow also good, the cooling salvia causing goosebumps to grow all over his skin. And Sampo just kept going, always starting at the bottom edge and going all the way up, always slow and sensual and even moaning at the taste, which pulled a whine from the blond.

It was all too hot, Sampo's broad shoulders keeping his legs spread and his superior strength keeping him docile and unmoving. And Gepard was only human, couldn’t help the aroused shiver or the small whimper that escaped him when that wicked tongue made another pass over the torn skin. He wanted to lean back, but he just couldn't. Feeling overwhelmed and helpless he just pushed his unoccupied hand over his mouth in the hopes to stifle all the embarrassing sounds. All the while he felt a burning behind his eyes, tears already gathering at the corners, just waiting for a chance to roll down his reddened cheeks. Which came only seconds later when he felt the pointed tips of Sampos fangs gently scratch over his sensitive skin. 

It was the sound of his silent sob as well as the feeling of tears somehow hitting his face that woke the conman from his haze and he immediately let go of the poor soldier, falling backwards on his ass and still crawling farther, not stopping till his back hit the wall behind him. 

`Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.´

Eyes still very much red and wide open he took Gepard in and wiped at his lips, panting for breath in sudden panic. Misty blue eyes looked back at him and he scrambled to get upright, took a few tries to get his feet under him, all while mumbling `M’ sorry,´ and `Need to leave.´ Gepard had never seen the other this frantic or panicked. And before the poor blond could say anything, Sampo was gone, only the little wisps of his wind and his still cooling spit on his person indicators that he  was ever there.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: The Forsaken (Aeron Dam-phair)

It's one of those chapters.

It was always midnight in the belly of the beast. The mutes had robbed him of his of robe and shoes and breechclout. He wore hair and chains and scabs. Saltwater sloshed about his legs whenever the tide came in, rising as high as his genitals only to ebb again when the tide receded. His feet had grown huge and soft and puffy, shapeless things as big as hams. He knew that he was in some dungeon, but not where, or for how long.

Believe it or not, this is not Theon Greyjoy.

Quick note, this chapter is going to span several months, so it might be a bit tricky following the timeline. I'll do my best to make things easy to understand, but just know this chapter covers the following:

The aftermath of the Kingsmoot on Old Wyck

The attack of the Shield Islands

The initial stages of the Arbor attack

+.+.+

The night they moved him, he had seen the moon floating on a black wine sea with a leering face that reminded him of Euron.

Moon imagery for squid and dragon, love that for them.

+.+.+

When he slept, the darkness would rise up and swallow him and then the dream would come … and Urri and the scream of a rusted hinge.

You ever notice that of all the recurrent POV characters, it's the two religious fanatics, Melisandre and Dam-phair, who have had the most traumatic childhoods?

(Please pretend Areo Hotah doesn't exist for the sake of my interesting observation.)

+.+.+

Sometimes, Euron came himself. Aeron would wake from sleep to find his brother standing over him, lantern in hand. Once, aboard the Silence, he hung the lantern from a post and poured them cups of wine. "Drink with me, brother," he said. That night he wore a shirt of iron scales and a cloak of blood red silk. His eyepatch was red leather, his lips blue. 

Did you know the way we dress can greatly influence how others perceive us? First impressions are often based on appearance, and dressing in line with expectations can help create a positive image.

+.+.+

"What can you offer me that I have not had before?" Euron smiled. "I left the islands in the hands of old Erik Ironmaker, and sealed his loyalty with the hand of our sweet Asha. I would not have you preaching against his rule, so I took you with us."

The man's got brains, what can I say?

He may be a total fraud, but he dodged the dumb Greyjoy genes.

+.+.+

Euron grabbed a handful of the priest's tangled black hair, pulled his head back, and lifted the wine cup to his lips. But what flowed into his mouth was not wine. It was thick and viscous, with a taste that seemed to change with every swallow. Now bitter, now sour, now sweet. When Aeron tried to spit it out, his brother tightened his grip and forced more down his throat. "That's it, priest. Gulp it down. The wine of the warlocks, sweeter than your seawater, with more truth in it than all the gods of earth."

[...]

Aeron hawked and spat. The spittle struck his brother's cheek and hung there, blue-black, glistening. Euron flicked it off his face with a forefinger, then licked the finger clean.

+.+.+

And when the Damphair slept, sagging in his chains, he heard the creak of a rusted hinge. "Urri!" he cried. There is no hinge here, no door, no Urri. His brother Urrigon was long dead, yet there he stood. One arm was black and swollen, stinking with maggots, but he was still Urri, still a boy, no older than the day he died.

Hey, Victarion's got one of those too.

+.+.+

"You know what waits below the sea, brother?" "The Drowned God," Aeron said, "the watery halls." Urri shook his head. "Worms … worms await you, Aeron."

You might also find Euron and Victarion down there.

+.+.+

When he laughed his face sloughed off and the priest saw that it was not Urri but Euron, the smiling eye hidden. He showed the world his blood eye now, dark and terrible. Clad head to heel in scale as dark as onyx, he sat upon a mound of blackened skulls as dwarfs capered round his feet and a forest burned behind him.

"The bleeding star bespoke the end," he said to Aeron. "These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits." Then Euron lifted a great horn to his lips and blew, and dragons and krakens and sphinxes came at his command and bowed before him. "Kneel, brother," the Crow's Eye commanded. "I am your king, I am your god. Worship me, and I will raise you up to be my priest."

"Never. No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair!"

"Why would I want that hard black rock? Brother, look again and see where I am seated."

Aeron Damphair looked. The mound of skulls was gone. Now it was metal underneath the Crow's Eye: a great, tall, twisted seat of razor sharp iron, barbs and blades and broken swords, all dripping blood.

Impaled upon the longer spikes were the bodies of the gods. The Maiden was there and the Father and the Mother, the Warrior and Crone and Smith … even the Stranger. They hung side by side with all manner of queer foreign gods: the Great Shepherd and the Black Goat, three-headed Trios and the Pale Child Bakkalon, the Lord of Light and the butterfly god of Naath.

And there, swollen and green, half-devoured by crabs, the Drowned God festered with the rest, seawater still dripping from his hair. Then, Euron Crow's Eye laughed again, and the priest woke screaming in the bowels of Silence, as piss ran down his leg. It was only a dream, a vision born of foul black wine.

God, I don't know. I'm so tired.

He showed the world his blood eye now, dark and terrible. Clad head to heel in scale as dark as onyx, he sat upon a mound of blackened skulls as dwarfs capered round his feet and a forest burned behind him.

Not sure why it's called his blood eye, when it's black. That's a great way of tricking your fanbase into writing hundreds of Euron x Bloodraven metas.

The scale as dark as onyx might be the Valyrian steel armour he'll rock later in this chapter.

Euron Crow's Eye stood upon the deck of Silence, clad in a suit of black scale armor like nothing Aeron had ever seen before. Dark as smoke it was [...]

As for the mound of blackened skulls, I'm going to go out out on a limb and say they represent a significant loss of life on a large scale, caused by fire.

The dwarves are similar to Daenerys' dwarves from the House of the Undying.

In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

Most people believe those dwarves symbolize the four kings tearing through Westeros in pursuit of the Iron Throne, and it wouldn't be a bad guess to assume they represent the same thing here.

These dwarves will pop up again later in this chapter,

Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed …

and all signs are pointing towards Daenerys and Aegon, two new claimants of the Iron Throne.

That leaves the burning forest behind him. I've seen people speculate it's the Kingswood, Horn Hill, and a few other locations, among other guesses.

I personally believe it's one of two options: 1) The forest represents the Old Gods - in this same vision we see the death of all deities, or 2) It's symbolizing the Citadel (Oldtown) - books, books are burning.

"The bleeding star bespoke the end," he said to Aeron. "These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits."

Daenerys aka Azor Ahai aka Fate's Fumbler aka Destiny's Dud.

The Volantene waved a hand. "In Volantis, thousands of slaves and freedmen crowd the temple plaza every night to hear Benerro shriek of bleeding stars and a sword of fire that will cleanse the world. [...]" - Tyrion VI, ADWD 

What I especially love about this is that Dam-phair's learning that the comet's meaning is the opposite of what he initially believed. Initially, it was a promising sign, he interpreted it as a harbinger of triumph and glory for House Greyjoy and the ironborn.

The priest had dreamed the same dream, when first he'd seen the red comet in the sky. We shall sweep over the green lands with fire and sword - The Drowned Man, AFFC

Now, he is confronted with the revelation that the comet actually points towards an apocalyptic end.

Isn't that fascinating? Isn't that super interesting? I wonder if other priests are going to be forced to come to terms with the fact that they misconstrued certain prophecies.

Then Euron lifted a great horn to his lips and blew, and dragons and krakens and sphinxes came at his command and bowed before him.

Christ, more horn. There is a horn that some claim can command krakens.

Lord Celtigar had many fine wines that now I am not tasting, a sea eagle he had trained to fly from the wrist, and a magic horn to summon krakens from the deep. - Davos V, ASOS

I have no clue if it matters at all, or if any of these bloody horns actually serve any real purpose.

As for the sphinxes, I associate that with the Citadel.

The gates of the Citadel were flanked by a pair of towering green sphinxes with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles, and the tails of serpents. - Samwell V, AFFC

The sphinx is the riddle!

Now it was metal underneath the Crow's Eye: a great, tall, twisted seat of razor sharp iron, barbs and blades and broken swords, all dripping blood.

Iron Throne!

You're welcome.

Impaled upon the longer spikes were the bodies of the gods. The Maiden was there and the Father and the Mother, the Warrior and Crone and Smith … even the Stranger. They hung side by side with all manner of queer foreign gods: the Great Shepherd and the Black Goat, three-headed Trios and the Pale Child Bakkalon, the Lord of Light and the butterfly god of Naath. And there, swollen and green, half-devoured by crabs, the Drowned God festered with the rest, seawater still dripping from his hair.

Euron pushing his separation of church and state agenda.

Later in this chapter we'll learn he's collecting holy men who represent some of these faiths. Fun!

+.+.+

Mingled with the distant roar of song and celebration coming up from the beach, he'd heard the faint creak of longships settling on the strand. He heard the keening of the wind and now whines. He heard the pounding of the waves, the hammer of his god calling him to battle. And there and then, the Drowned God had come to him once more, his voice welling up from the depths of the sea. "Aeron, my good and faithful servant, you must tell the Ironborn that the Crow's Eye is no true king, that the Seastone Chair by rights belongs to … to … to …" Not Victarion. Victarion had offered himself to the captains and kings but they had spurned him.

Aeron is now recalling the moments that followed the Kingsmoot.

Notice that stutter? Notice how both the Drowned God and Dam-phair struggle to arrive at a definitive answer? It's almost as if this God merely reinforces Dam-phair's own beliefs.

+.+.+

Not Asha. In his heart, Aeron had always loved Asha best of all his brother Balon's children. The Drowned God had blessed her with a warrior's spirit and the wisdom of a king – but he had cursed her with a woman's body, too. No woman had ever ruled the Iron Islands. She should never have made a claim. She should have spoken for Victarion, added her own strength to his.

She tried. Unfortunately, she's surrounded by idiots.

"Then let my nuncle sit," Asha said. "I will stand behind you, to guard your back and whisper in your ear. No king can rule alone. Even when the dragons sat the Iron Throne, they had men to help them. The King's Hands. Let me be your Hand, Nuncle."

No King of the Isles had ever needed a Hand, much less one who was a woman. The captains and the kings would mock me in their cups. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

+.+.+

It was not too late, Aeron had decided as he shivered in the sea. If Victarion took Asha for his wife, they could yet rule together, king and queen. In ancient days, each isle had its Salt King and its Rock King. Let the Old Way return.

Oh my god. Hahahaha.

Well, I'll say this, that has more chance of happening than Daenerys with Aegon/Jon, or Sansa with her uncle by marriage.

+.+.+

Aeron Damphair had struggled back to shore, full of fierce resolve. He would bring down Euron, not with sword or axe but with the power of his faith.

I think you're probably going to need the axe.

+.+.+

"And who are you, child?"

"Falia Flowers, Lord Hewett's natural daughter. I am to be King Euron's salt wife. You and I will be kin, then." Aeron Damphair raised his eyes to hers. His scabbed lips were crusted with wet porridge. "Woman." His chains clinked when he moved. "Run. He will hurt you. He will kill you."

She laughed. "Silly, he won't. I'm his love, his lady. He gives me gifts, so many gifts. Silks and furs and jewels. Rags and rocks, he calls them."

"The Crow's Eye puts no value in such things." That was one of the things that drew men to his service. Most captains kept the lion's share of their plunder but Euron took almost nothing for himself.

"He gives me any gown I want," the girl was prattling happily. "My sisters used to make me wait on them at table, but Euron made them serve the whole hall naked! Why should he do that, except for love of me?" She put a hand on her belly and smoothed down the fabric of her gown.

"I'm going to give him sons. So many sons …"

[...]

"Gone?" That was the cruelest blow of all. "Gone where?"

"East," she said, "with all his ships. He's to bring the dragon queen to Westeros. I'm to be Euron's salt wife, but he must have a rock wife too, a queen to rule all Westeros at his side. They say she's the most beautiful woman in the world, and she has dragons. The two of us will be as close as sisters!"

Sisters?

I don't have the strength or desire to properly comment on any of this.

+.+.+

That night, when the tide came rushing back into the prison cell, he prayed that it might rise all night, enough to end his torment. I have been your true and leal servant, he prayed, twisting in his chains. Now snatch me from my brother's hand, and take me down beneath the waves, to be seated at your side.

Very on brand for a Greyjoy to be wishing for his own death.

This is how I know Victarion murder-suicides.

+.+.+

"It was me who taught you how to pray, little brother. Have you forgotten? I would visit your bed chamber at night when I had too much to drink. You shared a room with Urrigon high up in the seatower. I could hear you praying from outside the door. I always wondered: Were you praying that I would choose you or that I would pass you by?" Euron pressed the knife to Aeron's throat.

There's no reason for me to include this, but it's necessary if you want to get the full Euron experience.

+.+.+

"Not even you would dare," said the Damphair. "I am your brother. No man is more accursed than the kinslayer."

Somewhere in the world, Victarion's ears are ringing.

+.+.+

"And yet I wear a crown and you rot in chains. How is it that your Drowned God allows that when I have killed three brothers?" Aeron could only gape at him. "Three?" "Well, if you count half-brothers. Do you remember little Robin? Wretched creature. Do you remember that big head of his, how soft it was? All he could do was mewl and shit. He was my second. Harlon was my first. All I had to do was pinch his nose shut. The greyscale had turned his mouth to stone so he could not cry out. But his eyes grew frantic as he died. They begged me. When the life went out of them, I went out and pissed into the sea, waiting for the god to strike me down. None did. Oh, and Balon was the third, but you knew that. I could not do the deed myself, but it was my hand that pushed him off the bridge."

Am I supposed to be thinking about Sweetrobin?

Take a second to compare the above with whoever the hell this is:

Wild, right? Of all the characters they fucked up, Euron has to be the worst.

Anyway, Euron's gotta meet his end at the hands of a brother. It's just the way it has to be, plain and simple.

+.+.+

He stepped back and sheathed his dagger. "No, I'll not kill you tonight. A holy man with holy blood. I may have need of that that blood … later. For now, you are condemned to live."

Ouu a sacrifice! Do holy men have special blood?

Good thing Melisandre is at the other end of the continent. We wouldn't want her to get a taste of sweet, poetic justice.

+.+.+

It was in the second dungeon that the other holy men began to appear to share his torments. Three wore the robes of septons of the green lands, and one the red raiment of a priest of R'hllor. The last was hardly recognizable as a man. Both his hands had been burned down to the bone, and his face was a charred and blackened horror where two blind eyes moved sightlessly above the cracked cheeks dripping pus. He was dead within hours of being shackled to the wall, but the mutes left his body there to ripen for three days afterwards.

Last were two warlocks of the east, with flesh as white as mushrooms, and lips the purplish-blue of a bad bruise, all so gaunt and starved that only skin and bones remained. One had lost his legs. The mutes hung him from a rafter. "Pree," he cried as he swung back and forth. "Pree, Pree!”

Perhaps that was the name of the demon that he worships. The Drowned God protects me, the priest told himself. He is stronger than the false gods these other worship, stronger than their black sorceries. The Drowned God will set me free.

In his saner moments, Aeron questioned why the Crow's Eye was collecting priests, but he did not think that he would like the answer.

Some people collect coins and stamps, and then there's Euron Greyjoy.

Yes, that would be Pyat Pree's little band of warlocks.

Euron drank deep from his own cup, and smiled. "Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. One presumed to threaten me, so I killed him and fed him to the other three. They refused to eat of their friend's flesh at first, but when they grew hungry enough they had a change of heart. Men are meat." - The Reaver, AFFC

x

"Not all your enemies are in the Yellow City. Beware men with cold hearts and blue lips. You had not been gone from Qarth a fortnight when Pyat Pree set out with three of his fellow warlocks, to seek for you in Pentos." - Daenerys III, ADWD

It's so sweet how he kills all her enemies for her.

Side note, it's a bit interesting that Euron had access to a red priest from R'hllor, when the horn he gave Victarion feels like it might have a connection to that faith.

+.+.+

When Euron came again, his hair was swept straight back from his brow, and his lips were so blue that they were almost black. He had put aside his driftwood crown. In its place, he wore an iron crown whose points were made from the teeth of sharks.

That's kind of cool.

+.+.+

"Your victories are hollow. You cannot hold the Shields."

"Why should I want to hold them?" His brother's smiling eye glittered in the lantern light, blue and bold and full of malice. "The Shields have served my purpose. I took them with one hand, and gave them away with the other. A great king is open-handed, brother. It is up to the new lords to hold them now. The glory of winning those rocks will be mine forever. When they are lost, the defeat will belong to the four fools who so eagerly accepted my gifts."

My poor Vicky. Please throw your toy in the sea.

+.+.+

Euron pulled his head back by the hair and forced the vile liquor into his mouth again. Though Aeron clamped his mouth shut, twisting his head from side to side he fought as best he could, but in the end he had to choke or swallow.

The dreams were even worse the second time. He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood-red sea. He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles. Beside him stood a shadow in woman's form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire. Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed …

He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood-red sea.

Wouldn't be Euron if he wasn't sailing on a sea of blood.

"Only their shadows," Moqorro said. "One most of all. A tall and twisted thing with one black eye and ten long arms, sailing on a sea of blood." - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

In a previous chapter, Melisandre also had visions of a blood-red sea, which seemed to hint at the imminent destruction of Oldtown.

Then the towers by the sea, crumbling as the dark tide came sweeping over them, rising from the depths. - Melisandre I, ADWD

x

I saw towers by the sea, submerged beneath a black and bloody tide. - Melisandre I, ADWD

I'm sure I don't have to point out the Arbor is right beside Oldtown.

He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles.

Greyjoy kraken things.

Beside him stood a shadow in woman's form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire.

Four popular candidates.

Melisandre:

The mist rose from her pale flesh, and for a moment it seemed as if pale, sorcerous flames were playing about her fingers. - Jon VI, ADWD

Popular theory solely because of that.

I can't understand why. She's at the Wall, and Euron is more likely to sacrifice her than join forces with her. Honestly, what is it about these chapters that is giving people the impression Euron gives a shit about what a red priestess has to say?

Cersei:

Terrible, tall, pale, and often associated with fire. Can't totally dismiss it, because of what transpired on the show. Plus she wants a fleet as badly as Daenerys does, and would be dumb enough to ally with a Greyjoy to get one. We love Cersei and Daenerys parallels!

My problem is, I don't think Euron wants or needs Cersei Lannister.

Daenerys:

Not long or tall, but certainly terrible. Notable fire lady, and the woman Euron is after. Need I say more?

As much as I love Storm x Storm, Daenerys Targaryen is nobody's sidekick, and it's not going to take much time before these two end up in a war.

Viserion:

The shadowy pale white intersex dragon, who breathes pale golden fire.

But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. 

I lied before, Euron's not after Daenerys. This is what Euron truly wants.

If it is Viserion, it would explain why the show felt compelled to give Viserion to a character that doesn't even exist in the books. It would also explain all the foreshadowing that suggests two of Daenerys' dragons will clash.

I'm not completely convinced about this theory, but if any of those dumb horns actually have an effect, my money's on Viserion being the target. And if there's anyone who'd snatch up one of Daenerys' dragons, it's most likely going to be Euron.

Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed …

Tyrion and Penny.

Kidding. Aegon and Daenerys feels like a safe bet.

+.+.+

Aeron dreamed of drowning, too. Not of the bliss that would surely follow down in the Drowned God's watery halls, but of the terror that even the faithful feel as the water fills their mouth and nose and lungs, and they cannot draw a breath. Three times the Damphair woke, and three times it proved no true waking, but only another chapter in a dream. 

Is it Dam-phair who is drowning? Or is he experiencing Euron's death?

I'm a bit lost on the three times he woke.

+.+.+

They dragged him up more steps, down a torchlit gallery, and into a bleak stone hall where a dozen bodies were hanging from the rafters, turning and swaying. A dozen of Euron's captains were gathered in the hall, drinking wine beneath the corpses. Left-Hand Lucas Codd sat in the place of honor, wearing a heavy silken tapestry as a cloak. Beside him was the Red Oarsman, and further down Pinchface Jon Myre, Stonehand, and Rogin Salt-Beard.

"Who are these dead?" Aeron commanded. His tongue was so thick the words came out in a rusty whisper, faint as a mouse breaking wind.

"The lord that held this castle, with his kin." The voice belonged to Torwold Browntooth, one of his brother's captains, a creature near as vile as the Crow's Eye himself. "Pigs," said another vile creature, the one they called the Red Oarsman. "This was their isle. A rock, just off the Arbor. They dared oink threats at us. Redwyne, oink. Hightower, oink. Tyrell, oink oink oink! So we sent them squealing down to hell."

We've now reached the Arbor.

As you can see, people are dead. More will join them.

+.+.+

"Your curses have no power here, priest," said Left-Hand Lucas Codd. "The Crow's Eye has fed your Drowned God well, and he has grown fat with sacrifice. Words are wind, but blood is power. We have given thousands to the sea, and he has given us victories!"

"And krakens off the Broken Arm, pulling under crippled galleys," said Valena. "The blood draws them to the surface, our maester claims. [...] - Arianne I, TWOW

Bruh, is this part of his plan? That's crazy, surely not.

Is it??

A tangle of roots and limbs poked up out of the water as it came, like the reaching arms of a great kraken. - Arya IX, ASOS

x

"In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas."

Dany laughed. "That would be a wondrous sight to see." - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under . . . - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

The eunuch drew a parchment from his sleeve. "A kraken has been seen off the Fingers." He giggled. "Not a Greyjoy, mind you, a true kraken. It attacked an Ibbenese whaler and pulled it under. - Tyrion III, ASOS

x

On the crown of the hill four-and-forty monstrous stone ribs rose from the earth like the trunks of great pale trees. The sight made Aeron's heart beat faster. Nagga had been the first sea dragon, the mightiest ever to rise from the waves. She fed on krakens and leviathans and drowned whole islands in her wrath [...] - The Drowned Man, AFFC

Bruh.

🎨 antoniothailan

PLS GEORGE I NEED IT.

+.+.+

"Count yourself blessed, Damphair," said Stonehand. "We are going back to sea. The Redwyne fleet creeps toward us. The winds have been against them rounding Dorne, but they're finally near enough to have emboldened the old women in Oldtown, so now Leyton Hightower's sons move down the Whispering Sound in hopes of catching us in the rear."

Euron appears to be controlling the wind again.

"Do I command the winds?" the Crow's Eye asked his pets.

"No, Your Grace," said Orkwood of Orkmont.

"No man commands the winds," said Germund Botley.

"Would that you did," the Red Oarsman said. "You would sail wherever you liked and never be becalmed."

"There you have it, from the mouths of three brave men," Euron said. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

I wonder if his red priest had something to do with that.

Euron is fully aware of what the Hightower and Redwyne fleets are planning, so they have no hope at all. Even if he were unaware, they still wouldn't stand a chance. Who the hell is Paxter Redwyne? Exactly.

+.+.+

Euron Crow's Eye stood upon the deck of Silence, clad in a suit of black scale armor like nothing Aeron had ever seen before. Dark as smoke it was, but Euron wore it as easily as if it was the thinnest silk. The scales were edged in red gold, and gleamed and shimmered when they moved. Patterns could be seen within the metal, whorls and glyphs and arcane symbols folded into the steel.

Valyrian steel, the Damphair knew. His armor is Valyrian steel. In all the Seven Kingdoms, no man owned a suit of Valyrian steel. Such things had been known 400 years ago, in the days before the Doom, but even then, they would've cost a kingdom.

Euron did not lie. He has been to Valyria. No wonder he was mad.

I bet he looks better in this armour than any pigment-challenged, scrawny, inbred, mole rat-esque Targaryen ever has. How could she resist? He's Drogon in human form.

I'm still on the Reader's side: I don't believe Euron has set foot in Valyria. No clue where he got that snazzy outfit, though. Although, someone ought to let him know that wearing armour on a ship is asking for trouble.

+.+.+

"Your Grace," said Torwold Browntooth. "I have the priests. What do you want done with them?"

"Bind them to the prows," Euron commanded. "My brother on the Silence. Take one for yourself. Let them dice for the others, one to a ship. Let them feel the spray, the kiss of the Drowned God, wet and salty."

[...]

They bound Aeron Damphair tight with strips of leather that would shrink when wet, clad only in his beard and breechclout. The Crow's Eye spoke a command; a black sail was raised, lines were cast off, and the Silence backed away from shore to the slow beat of the oarmaster's drum, her oars rising and dipping and rising again, churning the water. Above them, the castle was burning, flames licking from the open windows.

When they were well out to sea, Euron returned to him. "Brother," he said, "you look forlorn. I have a gift for you."

He beckoned, and two of his bastard sons dragged the woman forward and bound her to the prow on the other side of the figurehead. Naked as the mouthless maiden, her smooth belly just beginning to swell with the child she was carrying, her cheeks red with tears, she did not struggle as the boys tightened her bonds. Her hair hung down in front of her face, but Aeron knew her all the same.

"Falia Flowers," he called. "Have courage, girl! All this will be over soon, and we will feast together in the Drowned God's watery halls."

The girl raised up her head, but made no answer. She has no tongue to answer with, the Damphair knew. He licked his lips, and tasted salt.

I continue to have no words for Falia Flowers. Sad stuff.

Looks like Euron is planning a massive blood sacrifice featuring a pregnant woman, and a bunch of priests.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Daenerys sacrifice an unborn child, and a priestess of the Great Shepherd of Lhazar to wake the dragons? Just saying.

Final thoughts:

I'm not convinced anyone on the brink of death could survive being tied to the prow of a ship, but given there wasn't a speck of blood in sight, my guess is we'll be seeing Aeron Dam-phair again.

Next chapter: Theon I

-> return to menu <-

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

I love love love your Cheslock content and the tragic backstory you have for him - maybe a fluffy piece where reader can empathise with him and they comfort each other?? If this is too much then feel free to ignore!!!

I hope this is the kinda thing you meant!! aaaaaaaa my HEART-

Most of the time, CHESLOCK keeps his vulnerability close to his chest, even with you. At first, anyway.

He’s told you some things about his childhood, about the awful things his father put him through. And more than anything, he brushes it off. “It wasn’t that much, y’know?” “Ain’t like he did it all the time.” “Other people had it worse, it ain’t a big deal.”

He acts like it doesn’t affect him. But you know it does, even when he tries not to show it. So what if his father didn’t do a bunch of things? A single event is enough to traumatize a person, let alone a handful.

When you visit his home for the holidays, though, it becomes that much more evident how much that one thing haunts him.

It’s the way he sits hesitantly on the piano bench, the way he barely touches the keys, the way he’s careful not to play when his father is in the house. He never plays the same song twice, even when his father isn’t around. He also doesn’t dare to take his violin out of the carrying case despite the fact that he brought it to play a song for his sister.

You settle yourself down beside him while you’re alone in the house, while the rest of his family are out visiting one of his father’s friends. (He probably should have gone. You wonder if he’ll hear about it later; that his father’s youngest child came and his oldest ‘couldn’t be bothered’ or something, even though Cheslock’s an adult.)

“You should play my favorite one nonstop until everyone gets back,” you grin as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“… Y’know I can’t.” There’s a smile in his voice, as if he’s trying to keep things light. Trying to avoid talking about it. “Play y’ a medley, though, if y’ want.”

You reach over and hit a sour note on purpose with a soft laugh. “You can with me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He shakes his head. “I know, love, I know. It’s jus’… I…” A sigh, and he brings his hands down from the keys. “Every time I try to play anythin’ more than once round here, I… start thinkin’ ‘bout what happened back when I was young, so… I… I can’t.”

It hurts your heart, thinking that the man you love has been so hurt that he just can’t bring himself to play a song more than once while he’s at home. Even when the person who hurt him isn’t even around, his mind just won’t let him do it.

The details of the incident are fuzzy as he’s told them to you. Maybe even as his own mind remembers them? You can just envision your partner, ten or so years younger, sitting at the piano and excited by playing a song he loved. Only to be hit hard enough that it left a scar over his eye, by the gift his parents had given him, and by someone who may have done similar things before but never anything so… personal.

You can only imagine the pain. The way that you can feel those things, the emotions are the worst part of it. What could he have possibly done to deserve to be hurt so badly? He must have thought it was his fault, because his father surely told him it was. That he was irritating and to stop playing that same thing over and over.

More than anything, the feeling of something that he loved, that violin bow representing all his passion for music, being used to beat a ‘lesson’ into him ― it’s horrifying.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. You gently wrap your arm around his waist, nuzzling against him. You can feel how terrible that memory is, to the point that tears are gathering in your eyes. “It must have been really scary, wasn’t it? What he did really hurt you. I understand why you can’t… I just… wish he hadn’t done that to you.”

He frowns down at you, likely only because you’re crying. You don’t think anyone has ever felt hurt for him before. Maybe because he doesn’t tell a lot of people about this. It’s debatable whether he’s even mentioned it to his friends.

Almost immediately he has his arm around you as well, and gives you a kiss on the top of your head. “Darlin’… y’ don’t need to… I mean… it hurt, but it was a long time ago. I…” Here his voice breaks, if only briefly. “… I wish he didn’t, too. But there ain’t no changin’ it. It’s happened already. Why are y’ cryin’ over somethin’ y’ can’t change?”

After a moment, you glance up at him. You lift your hand and wipe away the tears starting to well up in his eyes. “Well, why are you?”

The piano is forgotten fairly quickly. It doesn’t take long before the two of you are in each other’s arms, tears shed over something you don’t think he’s ever allowed himself to cry over after it happened.

With any luck, that means he might finally be allowed some small measure of healing from it.

[spikedsoul]

maid's worst nightmare - ch 35

happy early valentine's day~

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

Bowser had no idea exactly what you were up to but he did know you were taunting him, taking off at a full sprint as you laughed. Had Peach done something to you somehow? Or, wait - did it have something to do with being teased about not falling in love? The moment she'd said it, you'd flushed with embarrassment…

He didn't dare to hope it meant what he wanted it to mean. For now, he focused on the enchanting scent of your happiness as he barreled after you; there was a sort of thrill in chasing you down, heightened by your lingering giggles when you narrowly avoided his grasping hands by ducking under his arm as you suddenly changed directions.

"Hey!" he shouted; it took him way too long to turn around for his liking.

You laughed and met his gaze over your shoulder. "Gotta be faster, big man!" Oh, you weren't taunting him; you were teasing him.

And he liked it.

"You'll run outta stamina before I do!" he threatened as he started to catch up again. This time, he was prepared for you to try the same tactic to get around him, but instead of bolting under his arm you slipped down an adjacent hallway.

You just laughed; he could hear the breathiness already. It was only a matter of time now.

His claws dug into the carpet as he rounded the corner behind you, his tail swinging out to the side to keep him balanced as he entered the long hallway.

Oh, you were so done! There was no chance to escape because he wouldn't let you dip around him again, and there weren't any offshoot hallways until the very end, so unless you suddenly gained the jumping ability of the stupid Italian brothers, he had you.

But of course you weren't giving up; he could see your legs working hard to keep ahead of him even as he neared you again. He had to give you credit for trying to outrun him… it was just too bad you wouldn't be able to.

Just as you started to almost get near the end of the hallway, he finally got his hands around your waist and snatched you up with a triumphant laugh. You squealed and squirmed, but ultimately fell into airy laughter, trying to regain some breath at the same time. There was an undeniable charge in the air between you two that he didn't plan on ignoring any longer.

"Damn," you panted softly, letting him turn you to face him, "I've run from my feelings before, but having them physically chase me was a new experience."

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he quietly turned to press your back against the wall. "Don't start things ya can't finish," he rumbled deeply, watching with a smug feeling as your cheeks flushed. He was trying to tease you, but he was also teasing himself at the same time, his tail swaying quickly behind him.

Okay. He couldn't stand it any longer. The chase (as short as it was), the fucking adorable blush on your face, the sweet absence of fear despite those round doe eyes… You liked him. Dare he think it: you loved him.

His head tilted slightly to the side and without another thought or hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours.

It wasn't a perfect fit, due to obvious reasons, but he couldn't deny the electricity that shot through him; you obviously felt the same, because instead of pushing him away, you tangled your fingers in his mane. And fuck if that didn’t make his big heart flutter. Your lips were warm and soft as you kissed him right back, not an ounce of hesitation there - despite what he knew you’d been through.

You had trusted him with one of the biggest secrets a person could carry with them and now you were starting to trust him with a sort of intimacy he’d never actually thought he’d experience. Through all the times he’d kidnapped Peach, daydreamed about a partner that reciprocated, laid awake at night in his repressed loneliness, he’d never actually imagined he’d find someone who would put up with him, yet here you were: a traumatized little handmaiden too afraid to say her real name.

He wouldn’t trade you for the goddamned world.

You cupped your hands at the base of his horns and tried to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. An involuntary deep, dominating growl pushed its way from his throat at the action. Instead of trying to shy away, you responded with a soft noise of your own that - oh fuck. Oh shit. That wasn’t just a simple little hum.

He inhaled sharply, the kiss mutually broken as you both popped your eyes open to stare at each other.  Your hand came up to cover your mouth.

“You fuckin’ moaned,” he breathed. He pressed against you a little, another involuntary growl leaving him as he carefully tucked his nose into your bruised neck and inhaled your scent. “You moaned.”

You shook your head defiantly, but he could feel the shiver that shot up your spine. “It was not a moan,” you mumbled.

He kissed your neck lightly. “Keep tellin’ yerself that, baby. I know what I heard.” You rewarded him with another shiver as you exposed your neck a little, and he quite happily began to pepper your bruised throat with sweet little kisses. He was very careful not to hurt you.

“Fuck, Bows…” you breathed, your eyes fluttering lightly. He knew you were absolutely soaking up this innocent attention like a sponge… unfortunately, though, you just made something too easy for him.

“With pleasure,” he growled with a wide smirk.

You squeaked softly when he pulled you away from the wall, your eyes going wide. “W-wait–!”

“Relax, Samecca. I know you ain’t ready for that just yet.” As much as he wanted it already, he would absolutely wait for you to come to him… or, fuck it, you might make him chase you again or something. Either way, he’d let you tell him somehow when you were ready, in your own time. “We’ll take it slow. Promise, okay?”

Immediately, he felt you relax in his arms, and you nodded. You both knew the jokes would have a slightly more serious undertone now, certainly some genuine flirting, but he felt it had been important to remind you that he would keep his word about not taking advantage of you.

“I promise I’ll speak up when I don’t like something,” you murmured, then pulled him in for another kiss. He rumbled as he practically melted into it, but after a few moments something occurred to him and he pulled his head back.

“Let me clarify somethin’,” he said, and you nodded. “When ya say that… you mean if things gettin’ kinda hot ‘n heavy, and you not sayin’ nothin’ to me ‘bout stoppin’... I’m good to just keep goin’?”

You gently stroked his snout, your hands as gentle and soft as ever as they ran from his cheeks to his nose. “Exactly. I reserve the right to stop in the middle of anything we’re doing, but if I’m not speaking up, then I’m okay with you not stopping. That’s a promise.”

Good, that would actually make things very easy for him. He wouldn’t be constantly guessing if you were okay, and you were free to test your own limits while knowing that he would stop at any point for you. Certainly that sweet little moan of yours would keep him enough company in certain moments to let him be as patient with you as you needed. He figured it also couldn’t hurt to just straight up ask you about some stuff too, probably, so he decided he would start with something on the easier side.

“Hickies?” he grunted, shifting to carry you bridal-style as he headed back down the hallway toward his room.

“What about them?”

He snorted softly and glanced down at you. “Can I give them to ya?”

You blushed, hiding your face, but he felt you nod against his chest. “S-sure… but what if your kids ask…?” you squeaked out.

“Never said they gotta be on yer neck, did I?” He snickered quietly.

You didn’t respond, highly embarrassed… but you also didn’t contradict him or say no. He blinked when he realized. Before he could ask, though, his nose was suddenly tingling with a scent he’d never smelled before, and he found himself picking up his pace a little. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, just that you suddenly smelled like heaven. It was to the point that his mouth was beginning to water.

He’d have to figure it out when he got you to the room for lunch. Hopefully the food would already be waiting, which would give you two some time without the pressure of knowing the time would be interrupted. Just had to get there…

[loksthegreat]

tell me about your most insane awful targ oc! and some brief summary of each of visenya's children? (looks, personality, spouse, fate etc)

Okay! sooo Visenya has 15 children that survive infancy so I’ll do a list up of those first and then maybe do a second post about my most insane targs, depending on how long this one’s gonna be!!

First we have Maegor II (103-157AC) he has his moms Valyrian features, hes somewhat buff (for a Targaryen man at least) and sun tanned from spending time in dorne. He was often teased for not having a dragon as a boy (Daemon gave him an egg, but it hatched into a Wyrm and took a bite it of his cheek, when he was a baby) so he’s a bit bitter and put all of his energy into becoming a great warrior, which paid off and eventually earned him the nickname of ‘the warrior among men’ (because u know the warrior from the seven), he’s always been serious and very focused on being the perfect heir and later king. He was 7 when Otto and Vissy fought so bad that they didn’t talk for 4 years, he’s a big mommas boy so he never really got close to Otto after that. He married princess Velaris Martell in 120 when they where both 17, (Visenya made a deal with Vels aunt and possibly fucked her dad to make that happen) they only knew each other for a year beforehand, but the marriage went surprisingly well, apart from their problems to conceive a child for the first 11 years. I head canon Maegor as a big fat asexual so that may have something to do with that… well they end up king and queen anyway in 149, they are good at ruling and Maegor claims Vermithor upon his moms death, so he can’t go and defeat the Pirates and fleet of the three sisters that attack from the stones! He has 6 kids in total, his daughter Rhaenys becomes queen after him and he is remembered as the warrior king. In 157 Maegor grabbed Blackfyre and was about to storm of and mount Vermithor after hearing about Aurys death, but had a stroke and died. (Also funfact: Visenya had a vision of Maegor the cruel during labor and on the ride to dragonstone (it was her first dragon flight) so she named him that. Otto is not a fan).

Baelor I (105-130AC) is a lot easier, he takes after his father in appearance, save for the violet eyes, he wears his hair in a bit of a snappy short cut, that he probably did himself (without a mirror) and is also relatively build, he lost an eye during his pirating years, so he usually wears an eye patch. He was very close to Maegor as a kid, his disappearance in 120 was a hit for Maegor. Baelor, Jaehaeron and Aerion were always big fans of their uncle Corlys and spend a LOT of time on Driftmark learning how to sail and all that oceany stuff. In 120 he was allowed to join Corlys on his journey to the stones for the first time and promptly got lost and picked up by pirates, his family thought he was dead and he didn’t know where the f he was so he just spend some time living his life until in 128 AC his brother Aerion stumbles upon him in Braavos and takes him home. He never marries and is generally not a very good time to be around. Probably the most traumatized out of Vissys kids. He fights for Visenya at sea and drowns when his ship is destroyed in 130 AC, though it’s a bit of a rumor that he just when back to the stones to return to his common life.

Saeron I (106-154AC) is the older one of Vissys first twin boys, he’s the most gentle and soft spoken of her generally pretty feral kids, he’s pretty with long silver hair, violet eyes, a rather feminine face and slender but tall build. He’s found of music and poetry, which is why he is called ‘prince silver tongue’ in comparison to his twin who needs a sword to get what he wants while Saeron just talks his way round the house all day every day. He’s married to Lady Zahna Dayne, she’s a fierce woman with a sharp tongue and a liking for swordsmanship, she’s also in love with his twin, while Saeron would rather be married to her cousin Ser Aryon of his mothers kingsguard, sooo u Von imagine it’s not that great of a marriage, (they’ve been married since 126 AC, after 6 years of engagement, because no one thought they were actually gonna marry). They have have 3 children, (which might be Rhaenars…) and Saeron would def get on the insane list for being religious lunatic and self proclaimed prophet, but he’s not all that awful!

Rhaenar I (106-144AC) is the younger twin and one of my favorites to be honest, he’s taller than Saeron, slender but well trained, with long straight silver hair and Ottos blue eyes, he looks like Saeron because of the hair but he’s not as pretty. He’s his moms biggest supporter and would def have been on her kingsguard if the opportunity had been there. He’s known as ‘Silverlance’ or ‘Steelskiss’ and as you may have guessed he’s a great swordsman, but despite what the nickname suggests he can be quite charismatic and a smooth talker as well. He was in love with his aunt Rhaena III from a young age but she died before they could be together. After that he took a liking to his brothers betrothed and spend more time with her than Saeron during her visits to the Keep and Dragonstone. He married Baela (daemons daughter) in 132 and had 4 children with her. He was out fighting in 144 AC when the city was under attack and dismounted his dragon to follow an enemy into a tower, he was slain it what became known as the silver night, because it also saw the end of 2 kingsguard knights, by an unknown enemy, his body was dragged back to the red keep by ser Aryon Dayne (he’s gonna get a promotion for that) and bleed out in the man’s arms. It is very much unknown who killed him, since he was an undefeated knight (Baela burned down the part of the city in which he was killed later).

Jaehaeron I (108-130AC) was born on the step stones, since Visenya was currently fighting, Corlys had to help with the delivery cause there weren’t any midwives (he did not recover from that ever, even though he sure likes to rub it in with Otto) he strongly takes after his father in looks. Jaehaeron never married, since his mom was saving her children’s hands to make alliances. He was a decent swordsman and formidable archer. He enjoyed Sailing and during the dance he would sail up the rivers of the Vale and upon being killed in battle with a rebellious house of the vale, he is said to have come back to live twice and set sails for Dragonstone to support Baelors fleet, he didn’t make it in time, but managed to severely destroy the enemy ships before succumbing to his injuries alone on the shores of Dragonstone. Many belief that his Ghost still haunts the island and it’s castle. He is often used as a symbol of a revenge and remembered as the ghost of Dragonstone and the demon of the gullet.

Aurys I (110-157AC) was born a good 8 and a half months after Otto and Visenya split, and duo to his strong resemblance of prince Daemon there are some rumors about him being a bastard, he wears his hair at shoulder length and is the shorts of Vissys children, supposedly born prematurely. He was called ‘the small prince’ for most of his youth until he made a name for himself as a warrior, when killing three armed assassins from across the narrow sea that were tasked to kill the princes and her children, at only 12 years of age, after this he became known as ‘ser bloodnight’. He is a intelligent man and strategic advisor to his mother and later brother. He died in 157 in one of the first battles of the war of the Riverlands, falling from his dragon, and being impaled on a large lance. He was married to Rhaena IV (daemons daughter) they had only one daughter, Elaena I, who was said to be the spitting image of her father.

Okay so this took longer than I thought and it’s late so I’ll just update this with the other kids and the mad targs tomorrow cause I’m tired. Also if you wanna see some art of Visenyas kids I have a series of I think 6?? Posters with little introduction of them on them, I’ll see if I can tag them here, but check them out anyway!!! As always feel free to ask any more questions you might have!!

[brooklynislandgirl]

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

This Softness || Accepting

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Those first few times when Skye put his hand out to shake hers and found himself enveloped in a hug became funny as the months rolled by. Eventually it was just a part of Beth and who she is as a person when he noticed that she would offer that same warm, welcoming embrace to a variety of people. Patients, of course. Friends without hesitation. But even strangers, people who looked like they could use a spark of human decency. It never really seems to occur to her that this is not a common thing. She's always been touch-oriented, finding it easier to navigate the world and the people in it through physical contact. And maybe that isn't such a bad thing. Most of the time those embraces are short. So carefully light that the other person might not feel caged by her. Perhaps the hilarity in that comes from the fact that Beth is a wisp of a person, bird-boned and delicate as glass. Or so it might seem. And she always smells good; faint essential oils that can not overpower the senses or trigger the illness-frail. ~*~

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) While the deepest recesses of her closet might look like the place where bespoke and designer outfits go to languish their existence on earth, Beth rarely seems to bother with them. She prefers scrubs when she takes volunteer shifts at the local ERs, and modest office wear when she works the reception desk for Skye. On those rare days off, she putters around in old tee-shirts several sizes too big for her frame, floor length skirts, and more often than not? Beach wear. Bikinis and the like, with bright floral wraps that belong on the shores of her beloved O'ahu. "Hate clothes. Shoes are worse," she's murmured a time or two. Sometimes? Things slip her mind, especially when they might be anxiety-inducing or unpleasantly traumatic. Like now. He's come to pick her up for drinks and trivia which is their weekly scheduled appointment ~she calls it date night, though maybe she doesn't mean it the way anyone else might~ and she seems almost surprised when he turns up. Everything about her is tight. The tension in her shoulders. The smooth, freckled skin around her full lips. The short, clipped way she moves in general. There's other things that are just a little...off. Beth rarely wears make-up, and when she does, it's almost always natural, enhancing her eyes and complimenting both her skin tone and the outfit she's chosen. Tonight? She's wearing at least three supermodels worth of product. Her face is practically sculpted to take some of the roundness away, and to soften her jaw. Her eyes, always wide and bright, seem to have less of their tilt to them. The most noticible thing? She's pale. Her skin artificially lightened so no trace of duskiness remains. Her hair is brutally straight, swept up and back into a chignon. She's covered shoulder-to-toes in a wide-legged Versace pant-suit, and she's looking at him as if she's attending her own funeral. "Gold studs, or these hoops?" She holds one each to a different ear as she asks his opinion. "It's just... the Admiral...he prefers a classic look. Maybe I should do the diamonds instead..."

[v3nusxsky]

Personal dark cloud

—————————————————————————

Tw~ self harm, depressive episode, past abuse

Prompt~ reader has depression due to past trauma and doesn't want to burden Larissa and attempts to cover up their bad day. Larissa notices the shift and immediately starts to figure out how to help. Newly Established relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew this was coming. Your brain remembered dates too well sometimes. Having a traumatic past meant certain days would trigger off your own personal dark cloud. And today was one of those days. You wish your cloud would go away but as they saying goes you know it will come back another day. So unfortunately you just have to let it stay where it is waiting for the sun to chase it away again. Now sometimes your cloud would be here for a day sometimes it was weeks. All you could do was hope for the best. But you didn't have much hope right now. Instead you just curled up in bed blanket over your head in an attempt to block the cloud out.

Alarm. God it was so annoying. Why didn't it understand you just don't feel like it today? In fact you didn't feel like anything today just well numb. The lack of sleep from the previous night only hindering you. Memories. Most think of them to be fond precious things that you wish to hold onto. For you all you wished to do was get amnesia. Life had been cruel to you. Until you landed at Nevermore. Nevermore was home. Nevermore is your family. You finally felt like you belonged. But Nevermore also led you to the home for your heart. Larissa Weems. Your new girlfriend who hadn't had the unfortunate pleasure of dealing with the cloud yet. And she wouldn't. Not today. No you were determined to push it away. So in an attempt of acting what was some sort of normal you dragged yourself up and out of bed throwing on an outfit. The closest outfit possible and just hoping and praying that you looked okay.

Getting ready for the day was a chore that shouldn't have exhausted you they way it had now. You had no energy yet you still have history classes to teach. The thought of people honestly made you want to crawl in a dark hole and never return. You love your job you really do and Nevermore and your girlfriend but today you just feel empty. Nothing will make the mental pain go away. Sighing, you force yourself to your classroom and prepare for what is most certainly going to be a difficult day.

The gentle shutting of your classroom door is what caught your attention. You'd been on autopilot all morning. Classes had been so much more stressful to manage. Students picking up on what they thought was your bad mood.  Some students even being bold enough to ask what was wrong. Maybe you weren't good at hiding your cloud at all. And that is how you got to where you are right now. Sitting in your chair at your desk. The draw slightly open as you rummaged around for something to ease the numbness. Thoughts swirling round your head as your hands finally made purchase on what they are so desperately seeking. Bringing the small shiny piece of silver to your desk you could feel your self being sucked into the void that was your dark cloud.

A bad teacher is what you are. You couldn't hide your cloud from the students. They knew. And you were certainly not the best girlfriend to Larissa otherwise you wouldn't be hiding in your classroom from her. You definitely weren't the smartest it's a miracle you got your job here. Maybe you only got it because Larissa thought you were attractive? That definitely makes more sense than you being smart. Oh god the looks. You didn't understand how anyone could find you attractive. You're nose is too big, your eyes are too close together, your chest was small like the rest for your frame and your thighs were too big. Everything was wrong. You'd change everything if only given the chance.

You handing realised the tears began to fall from your eyes as your dark cloud took full effect. You needed it to stop. To go away. To feel something. Anything. And before you even could process what you had done you felt the familiar sting on your arm. Bitting back a hiss you did it again and again and again. Self control was not something you had when it came to the little blade in your hand. You deserve the pain. You know that. If pain was what it takes to feel then you know it's what you'll do. But knowing when to stop had never been your strong suit. Before long your right wrist has crimson red dripping down your arm and off your finger tips. Horizontal cuts lay down your arm. Head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut you sat enjoying the small break from your cloud. It was a gasp that pulled you back to the present only then did you realise what you did...

Larissa POV

Larissa couldn't help but wonder where you'd  gotten too. Without fail you'd come to my office and the pair of you would enjoy a peaceful lunch with each other. It was her favourite part of the day. Yet today you hadn't turned up. At first she just thought your class has ran over. You always got so passionate about the outcast history. It was one of the many things she loved about you. However after a few minutes concern grew within Larissa. The same concern that had her walking the Nevermore halls to find your classroom. With a gentle knock Larissa opened the door and couldn't help the involuntary gasp of shook that flew from her ruby lips.

Y/n PoV

"Y/n? Honey ?" She said in the concern laced through her voice that was hardly audible but you heard. You could feel her eyes raking over your arm yet still made no move to cover yourself. She'd seen. And like everyone else you were sure she'd either get mad or leave. It's what everyone does. It's what you expected. But Larissa wasn't everyone else. She was unique. One of the many things you loved about the blonde that was now knelt in front of you.

"Darling, your bleeding. That's a lot of blood do you have anything here to help?" All you could do is shake your head slightly. You'd ran out of your aids. After all this wasn't planned.

The next thing you knew you were being gently scooped into the arms of the women you were so desperately trying to avoid. Only assuming you were being carried to her office you allowed yourself a o give in to the exhaustion. Hurting yourself although gave you relief for a little while took it's toll on your body as well as the guilt you knew you'd feel later. So for now you'd nuzzle into your girlfriends neck savouring the feeling of safety and love.

Once Larissa had laid you on the sofa effected arm accessible, she quickly found her first aid emergency kit. Thankfully she'd have everything she needed to tend to you in there. Why would you hurt yourself? You were the most kind caring beautiful specimen of a human and try as she might she just couldn't fathom why you'd do this.

"Darling? Let me fix you up okay? I've got to clean them now. I'm sorry love this is going to hurt." The sadness was dripping through her words as she took a hold of your good hand and squeezed lightly. Just enough to let you know she was here. At the first gentle swipe a small whimper left your lips. Tears sprang in your eyes as she continued. The whimpers becoming sobs as she carefully cleaned every cut.

"I know baby I know, it's okay love almost done.  Just a little more sweetheart I'm sorry." Was all she could say. The emotional turmoil had started within you. Hearing her words had brought on the guilt of the act. She loved you. That was evident. She stayed. That was new. But this feeling? No that was old. Years old. Something you'd felt since being a teenager. Guilt. But only this time it was guilt for hurting the goddess in front of you that was currently bandaging your arm.

Once Larissa had finished securing the bandage she laid a gentle kiss over the top pulling back to see the tear tracks staining your cheeks. "Oh baby, it's okay my love your okay. I'm here." Just as she was going to gently wipe the tears away you threw your self at her arms wrapping around her waist. Tears now flowing freely as she held you closer.

Some time had passed and your emotional state had calmed significantly. Head buried into her neck you mumbled out an apology. As exhausted as your body was you had to do this.

"Hush darling, it's alright but why y/n what happened? "

Pulling back from the hug you so desperately needed you decided it was time to explain about your dark cloud. And how it first came into your life at the age of 13. You'd not had an easy childhood. Not only were strangers afraid of you because you were an outcast but even your parents grew frightened and would often punish you for being "strange" or "different" and you would often feel the need to punish yourself for not being good enough for them. You explained to Larissa how the cloud was visiting today and how you felt so empty and numb it was a miracle you made it to lunch time. The whole time she kept your case as you fiddled with your fingers. A nervous habit she knew you had.

Once you had trialled off you felt soft hands hiding your chin up to ensure you were looking at her. Those blue eyes were something you wished to get lost in.  "Darling I'm proud of you for sharing that. But just know your cloud is only temporary. I'll always be here for you y/n. On the cloudy days and on the sunny days. Can you promise me something?"

A small nod was given as you attempted to process the words she'd just spoke. You could feel the love radiating from the words. "Whenever your cloud visits, can you tell me? We can see if we can find other ways to bring your sunshine back okay? I love you y/n and the thought of you being in so much pain... well I want to help take it away.

Another round of tears pricked at your eyes as you nodded again as you whispered so quietly it was almost not heard. "I'm sorry and I love you too Rissa."

Words~ 1876

*A/n~ Reader is really going through it right now. But comforting Larissa is just so adorable to right. Let me know what you'd like to see more of. See you next time :)*

[vashsscoreboardofpain]

WELCOME BACK SPORTS FANS TO "VASH'S SCORE BOARD OF PAIN" :D

We are almost at the end of the ride! Stampede Vash only has 2 more rounds left to gather as many points as he can before his break. Many fans will be sad to see him go, but before that lets see what the debutant will do in episode 11!

Lets go!

Once again no time is wasted here. Vash is still in the soup and BAM, first "bad event" point for getting kinda stabbed in the back by Nai and BAM, another "bad event" point because the stabbing was to control his mind. Strong start the debutant is showing, the crowd goes insane at this.

Stampede vash wakes up in a MIND PALACE HOLY CRAP. THE CROWD CHEERS. THIS SCENARIO PROMISES MULTIPLE SUFFERING POINTS AND THE CONTESTANT KNOWS IT. The points hit the tally like theyre nothing. 1 "action" point because of the memory his mind chose, 1 "yikes statement" fault because vash keeps blaming himself for the explotation of the plants, and 1 "bad event" point for being basically thrown into a hole of Bad Memories TM. We are just 5 minutes in folks, today he is leaving no crumbs.

He keeps striking points when he wakes in the desert and is tormented by rosa's final words (1 "bad event" point from that) the 2 kids he failed. 2 "bad event" points per child because this is a memory of the traumatic event. Wait...is that....WOLFWOOD WITH A STEELCHAIR? BAM! Another "bad event" point for remembering rollo's dead in such gruesome way.

Just after a nice walk in the desert of his mind we get ANOTHER "BAD EVENT" POINT FOR FINDING THE AFTERMATH OF BIG FALL. AND THERE HE IS NAI TO GIVE HIM AN "ACTION POINT." When he shows vash meryl and roberto, vash feels guilty about the problems they have been put through because of him and is scared of what they may think of him. The action that shows his guilt in this case is his devastating sad expression. A member of the audience presented this point a few weeks ago. Well, there it is.

MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE OF THE MIND PALACE, HE GETS 1 "TRAUMATIC EVENT" POINT. How you say? because of the vines that are growing out of him ofc. No one in the suffering division thought he would be happy about them.

AND WE GET IT, WE GET THE FIRST "SAD OUTBURST" POINT OF THE SEASON. THE AUDIENCE HUGS EACH OTHER AND CRIES AS THEY SEE THE POINT BEING ADDED TO THE TALLY. the contestant hit this point with his mental breakdown surrounded by the debris of Big Fall.

He gets one minute of peace with rem (the audience goes "awwww") BUT WAIT, THE DEBUTANT HITS THE AUDIENCE WITH A FLASHBACK. His memory about him being "different" is enough to give him 1 "traumatic event" point because that mentality followed him through adulthood. AND THE NICE MOMENT IS OVER. NAI THE MVP HAS OPENED THE DOORS (literally) FOR A BRAND NEW "TRAUMATIC EVENT" POINT. The discovery of our dear tesla and the breakdown the twins have is enough to get that point in the basket.

AND SHIT KEEPS HITTING THE FAN. 1 "ACTION" POINT FOR LETTING NAI SAY ALL THOSE MEAN THINGS TO HIM, 1 "ACTION" POINT FOR ACCEPTING THE BLAME, AND 1 "SAD OUTBURST" EVENT AFTER REALIZING EVERYTHING IS (allegedly) HIS FAULT. SOMEONE GET THIS GUY A THERAPIST. SO MANY HEAVY HITTERS AT ONCE. HOLY SHIT

AND IT KEEPS GOING! 1 "YIKES STATEMENT" POINT FOR BEGGING REM TO STAY WITH HIM, 1 "TRAUMATIC EVENT" PPINT FOR WATCHING NAI KILL REM IN FRONT OF HIS EYES, ANOTHER "TRAUMATIC EVENT" POINT FOR GETTING ALL HIS MEMORIES DELETED AND COMPLETING THE SYNCRONIZATION AT THE SAME TIME, ANOTHER "TRAUMATIZING EVENT" POINT FOR BEING USED AS A GATE, AND ANOTHER ONE FOR BEING USED TO GET THE OTHERS PLANTS PREGNANT, AND A FINAL "TRAUMATIZING EVENT" POINT FOR BASICALLY TRANSFORMING HIS TRAUMA INTO A REM-SHAPED TREE. HOLY SHIT ITS OVER. ITS FINALLY OVER. THE PEOPLE CAN THE SUFFERING DIVISION CAN REST. THE BEST ROUND SO FAR BUT AT WHAT COST.

His total for this episode are 24 points, making the total 138 points. The debutant will certainly make a mark in the history of suffering olympics, and will drag all of us with him.

Please tune in for the final stampede round of the year!