#very curious to know where the story will go from here

[maretinelli]

A GREAT MOTHER TO BE

Oscar Piastri X Dentist!fem!reader

Summary: Y/n Piastri has a pediatric dentist office and this leads to many fun conversations with the children. Oscar overhears one of the genuine conversations and is sure that she will be a great mother in a few months.

Words: 1.7K+

Warnings: Cute, mention of Y/n's work, cute patients, Y/n's pregnancy, Husband and wife, and again, so cute

Author: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And you can request stories on my profile❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

Y/n always said her job was an adventure. Each child who entered her office brought a unique personality and stories that made them laugh, reflect and, often, be enchanted.

As a pediatric dentist, she knew it wasn't just about caring for children's teeth, but also about creating a safe and welcoming environment for little ones to feel comfortable.

At the end of each day, it was almost a ritual for her to come home and tell stories to Oscar, who listened attentively while caressing his wife's belly, which was already rounded by four months of pregnancy.

He loved listening to her describe the children's antics, laughing at their imitations or exaggerated expressions as he recounted how the unlikely conversations between her and her patients took place.

At the moment, Y/n was working another day at the office. Y/n gently adjusted her stool and leaned towards her little patient, a four-year-old girl named Emily. With golden curls tied with a blue ribbon, Emily was the definition of curiosity.

"Okay, Emily, I'm going to use this little mirror here to take a look at your teeth, okay?" Y/n said with a reassuring smile, turning the small dental mirror in her hand.

Emily nodded quietly, but as soon as Y/n took the mirror out of her mouth, the inevitable question came.

"Why is he so small?"

Y/n chuckled softly, keeping her tone calm and playful. "Because I need it to fit in your little mouth. If it were bigger, you wouldn't be able to see everything properly, right?"

"Ah... so he's like a princess mirror?" Emily concluded, her eyes shining.

"Exactly!" Y/n replied, finding the comparison amusing. "And with it, I can see all the hidden parts of your teeth castle." Y/n smiled at the girl and turned her amused gaze to Emily's mother, who was watching the procedure. "She's so sweet!" Y/n said smiling.

Emily's mother laughs in agreement. "And very curious, you see."

Satisfied with the explanation, Emily opened her mouth again. Y/n picked up an instrument to check for a small cavity, but as soon as she took it out, another question popped up.

"What is that? A paintbrush?"

"It's an instrument that helps me clean places where the brush can't reach" Y/n explained. "It's like a magic broom to keep everything clean."

"My mom will want one of these!" Emily responded excitedly, eliciting a laugh from Yin and her mother who was sitting in an armchair at the back of the office.

Outside, Oscar had parked his car in the parking lot and entered his wife's office. He smiles at the receptionist and she briefly says that Y/n was answering. Already knowing that he was her boss's husband.

Oscar smiles in agreement. "Oh sure, I was a little early, just..." He looks at his watch and smiles. "We have an appointment to see our baby in an hour."

The receptionist smiles and nods. And then the pilot walks down the hallway until he reaches the waiting room, which was in front of Y/n's office.

The environment was so colorful and full of life from the children passing by that Oscar felt more and more anxious to have his baby in his arms.

With the door to her office half open, Oscar could hear his wife talking calmly to the child she was treating, while the little one laughed and asked more questions about the dental equipment she used.

He couldn't stop smiling when he heard how Y/n handled the little girl with so much patience and affection, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

As Y/n explained each step to Emily, Oscar found himself thinking about what it would be like when it was their baby there, asking the same curious questions and seeking answers with the same sweetness.

Y/n adjusted the instruments on the tray beside her while little Emily lay there, waiting patiently.

"We're almost done, princess" Y/n said with a warm smile, standing up to get more gauze from the nearby cabinet. As she stood up, she instinctively placed a hand under her belly, the gesture so natural that she didn't even notice.

Emily, however, widened her eyes at the movement and pointed, with an innocent and curious smile.

"Ah, you have a baby with you!"

Y/n chuckled, turning to the little girl as she picked up the gauze. "Yes, I have a baby here with me."

"Do you take him everywhere?" Emily asked naively, her eyes shining with curiosity.

Y/n and the girl's mother laughed at the comment.

"Yes, I will. But only for nine months," Y/n replied, sitting back down in the chair next to the little girl. "Actually, after I'm done here with you, I also have an appointment to see how he's doing."

Emily opened her mouth, eager for Y/n to continue the procedure, but she couldn't hold back the questions. As soon as Y/n finished, Emily leaned forward in her chair and asked excitedly.

"And what is his name? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Y/n arranged the instruments and smiled. "My husband and I haven't decided on a name yet, but it's a little boy."

Emily smiled even wider. Y/n helped her down from the chair and the little girl ran to her mother. Before leaving, Y/n took out a 'certificate of courage' and a shiny star pin and handed them to Emily.

"There you go, you were a very brave patient today!" Y/n said, handing over the items.

Emily looked at the brooch and certificate as if they were treasures and, before leaving with her mother, she turned to Y/n with an unexpected request.

"Could... could you bring a picture of the baby for me to see at my next appointment?"

Y/n chuckled softly, bending down to her level. "Of course. Next time, I'll bring a picture of my boy for you to see. But only if you promise me you'll brush your teeth properly, okay?"

Emily smiled excitedly and nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Oscar, who was still watching everything from the half-open door, felt his heart tighten. He already knew that Y/n was special, but seeing her like this, so natural, so affectionate with the children, only reinforced how lucky he was to have her.

Y/n gave him a gentle smile as she opened the office door, before turning to Emily's mother.

"If you can avoid sweets for now and help her brush her teeth after meals, I believe she won't have any more pain. We look forward to seeing you next week."

Emily's mother thanked her, and the little girl gave Y/n a tight hug before running out of the office, she smiled excitedly and ran in front of her mother, stopping at the reception to show the brooch to the receptionist.

Oscar then approached his wife, smiling as she watched the girl walk away. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"How are you, love?"

Y/n sighed, a calm smile on her lips.

"I'm fine, I'm just going to pack up before we go to the appointment."

Oscar walked her back to the office, watching her as she organized the instruments. He knew their lives would change completely in the coming months, but at that moment, he knew for sure that Y/n would be an incredible mother.

"You have a gift, you know?"

"Why?" Y/n asked curiously as she sanitized the instruments.

"The way you deal with these children. The patience, the calm manner... You can see how safe they feel with you."

Y/n blushed slightly. "Ah, it's work, Osc. We adapt."

Oscar shook his head, approaching his wife. "No, it's you. And I have no doubt: in a few months, you're going to be an incredible mother."

His words took her by surprise, and Y/n felt her eyes well up. She smiled, moving closer to him and placing a hand on her belly.

"I hope you're right, because I'm counting on your help, Mr. Piastri."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Always. Now let's go see how daddy's little boy is doing." He placed a hand on her back as he guided her to the office door.

She laughs. "No, he's definitely a mommy's boy. Isn't he, son?" She runs her hands over her belly and the baby moves. "Look, he moved. That means he agrees with me."

Oscar chuckled, bending down slightly to get closer to Y/n's belly. He gently ran his hand over the spot where the baby had moved.

"Little guy, listen to Daddy. You're my partner, right? You're going to help me with Mommy when she starts saying she's the boss around here."

Y/n gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Do you really think he'll take your side?"

Oscar looked up at her, a mischievous smile on his face. "I'm sure. We're already a team!"

"Of course they are..." Y/n replied, amused, running her hand through her husband's hair. "Until he's born, then he'll understand that, deep down, he's a mommy's little boy."

"We'll see!" Oscar teased and laced his fingers through hers as they walked down the hallway. "But in the meantime, let's see how our little champion is doing."

"Little champion?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Are you putting pressure on him already, Piastri?"

Oscar made an innocent gesture with his hands. "Not at all. I'm just saying that if he's half as good as you, he's already a champion."

Y/n stopped for a moment in the hallway, looking at him with a look full of tenderness. She leaned in and gave him a brief but meaningful kiss on the lips.

"You know how to make me emotional, you know?"

He smiled, squeezing her hand affectionately. "It's easy, you're everything to me."

And with that, Oscar opened the office door and led her to the car, as they laughed together about who the baby would choose as his favorite in the future.

That moment, so simple, yet so full of love and companionship, reinforced what Y/n already knew: They were not just a couple, they were a team, ready to face any challenge while anxiously awaiting the arrival of the baby that was already so loved.

[melliae]

Hong Lu, An Analysis-Prediction

Before beginning, as always, I've to clarify something: I haven't read Dream of the Red Chamber. My best source of information are the thematic connections drawn in the Reddit sub of Limbus, and that only gives me a slight idea of what Project Moon may have in mind.

So, everything below here is complete and utter speculation based on my own knowledge and impressions about Hong Lu's character, Sins, EGOS, and Abnormalities. Beware, and feel free to comment your own opinions!

Now, let's go with the post!

What We Know

So, I think the best way to start this analysis is by recapitulating Hong Lu’s overall character so far. For that, we need to return to the first ever explanation of his personality: the “resume” given in the game page and during his presentation in Selva Oscura.

“As such, he has a certain admiration for a free life; but occasionally, he may make ignorant and unsavory questions in regards to the food cooked by a certain other Sinner or other aspects of the low-lives' lowly culture. [,,,] However, it is important to note that no sarcastic undertones are contained in his curiosity-driven inquiries, so it is ill-advised to let them get physical over it.”

As a general thing… It surprisingly holds up! Don’t misunderstand me, though. It isn’t that the description is perfect; it’s just not untrue. In fact, his first even line in the game, about Dante’s head being some sort of trend and not waiting for an answer, totally falls there. Similarly, there are several other moments showing Hong Lu’s innocence and naivety without any ulterior or hidden motive, from wondering if the casino workers of Canto II were trying to make the Peccatula their pets (likely because his grandmother collects weird animals) to unintentionally insulting Outis’ watch in Canto VI. I’d say the biggest proof of his lack of experience is the moment in Canto V where he adjusted the LCCB badge of a pirate that very obviously wasn’t a member of Limbus. Though all of his weirdness may derive from the fact that his elders—which are weird as hell—are his point of reference.

Now, since his most notable trait has been explained, we can move into the discrepancies of the description, and the biggest one is mentioned at the end: that under Hong Lu's comments there is no sarcasm—which is a complete lie! This man is a menace, and the Sinner’s experiences in District 20 during To Claim Their Bones and Canto VI shows it, from agreeing Caiman’s assessment of LCB to joining Nelly’s teasing, including his lines while helping Heathcliff with his appearance and clothes. But arguably, my favorite example of this is the horror story he told during Canto V that scared Sinclair and which he only finished when the latter ran away. Don't tell me Hong Lu was being innocently insensitive back there: Sinclair was visibly shitting bricks, and the pretty boy here is keen enough to masterfully play the most compassionate and kind member of the League of Nine.

“Brother Young-ji was a man of kindness. He was not one to rashly harbor spite or reproach for others. You resemble him in that sense.” - Yi Sang, Blossoming League of Nine Littérateurs, Canto IV.

Though I suppose the difference between them is that Hong Lu clearly has a more optimistic and fun-loving attitude. This is an obvious trait that he has had since his childhood, when he played with and complained about his “cheating” siblings, sneaked into the dining hall of his manor for snacks, and simply didn’t follow his family’s rules. But since we know his family is extremely strict (if not outright sadistic), this sanguine streak may have developed (or gotten worse) as some sort of defense mechanism, which is seen better with Wakashu Hong Lu and his “lack of manners.” In fact, all of his Identities show an unnatural or improper calmness about his situation, no matter how horrible it is.

Another thing to highlight is his inquisitive, curious, and surprisingly understanding nature. While most of the examples above, especially him playing Young-ji, are proof of that, as it plays very well with his sheltered life. But I want to point out the best and most recent example of Hong Lu’s surprising contemplativeness: Time Killing Time. In particular, the most important scene is near the end, when Rodya and Hong Lu discuss his motivation to pursue the Time Reaper:

“I... just wanted to understand. Because, to me, the world was full of things I couldn't understand. In truth, I still understand so little of it. Why do people hang on so desperately to something like time? Something so... ephemeral?” - Hong Lu, Chapter 15: The Final Problem.

It’s normal to assume Hong Lu’s words are solely referring to the miserable monetary system of T Corp., but I don't think that’s all. We know that Hong Lu and Xinchun are well acquainted with the “immortality of the mind” the elders of their family are obsessed with, and what is immortality but infinite time? Thus, what Hong Lu asked there was why people hang on to the erroneous belief that life should not move or change, remaining constant and hence perfect for the rest of eternity. Yet, that isn’t what life truly is, right? It’s not for nothing that Hong Lu’s introductory quote is that “life has its vicissitudes as jade has its flaws,” which conveys his philosophy of detachment perfectly.

“When you’re distraught, simply remember that life goes on even if what you’re doing now doesn’t work out. Then, you’ll be free of worries.” - LCB Hong Lu

However, while the idea of detaching oneself from the whole without renouncing loving it is respectable, the way in which Hong Lu lives it is far from perfect, because detachment is not about carefreely admitting you will just simply gather the remains of your sister in case she is mutilated or readily accepting a horrible death just because you don’t mind dying. Even he himself admits from time to time, as with his jealousy over Heathcliff’s propensity to “ignore what he doesn’t like” (Rooms Past the Door) or Rim’s capacity to fly freely. In fact, one may even say that he hasn’t become detached at all, because doing so implies the complete acceptance of the “jade’s” beauty and flaws; Hong Lu, however…

“A thousand hours… Will a thousand hours have passed in the blink of an eye? [...] Then... I like that. Rip my time away.” - Hong Lu, Chapter 14: The Clock Tower of Fear, TimeKilling Time.

He has become detached from life altogether, and how could he not with the disaster that his family is? That likely was his only way to survive in such an environment, and unlike the rest of the Jia, he doesn’t seem to have that lucky predisposition for resentment and hatred. Even when his siblings tried to kill him the first time, Hong Lu didn’t come to hate them; he fully understood them because that’s the kind of person he is, just like Young-ji. However, since he realized such a thing through his big heart, he’s now fully aware that he will ultimately and cruelly die by their hands thanks to his love. In such a case, what other option does he have beyond merely “dancing”? A joke here, a sarcastic comment there, and a final appreciation for everyone so nothing is taken seriously and causes dissatisfaction, no matter how dim his eye becomes.

So, as of the 5th Walpurgisnacht, Hong Lu’s character can be summarized as follows:

Has a friendly, compassionate, and understanding personality that clashes against the violent and strict nature of his family.

Became detached over his own life because he can’t bring himself to hate and hurt his family.

His carefree attitude and sheltered life lead him to not understand some of the social conventions of… anyone who still has some respect for their own life.

Has a certain sarcastic and teasing streak, likely originating from both his personality and ideology.

There’s 1 aspect remaining that I didn’t mention above because I think it’s better to analyze Hong Lu’s EGOs first, to see what else we can rescue before giving a sort of “conclusion.”

About EGOs

Before any of you ask, no, I will not analyze Land of Illusion here; it’s best reserved for the next section, about Hong Lu Base ID. Instead, the first EGO I’ll deal with is, fittingly, the first one he ever received: Roseate Desire.

Roseate Desire originates from Pink Shoes, an Abnormality that evidently is an Aberration of Lobotomy Corp.’s Red Shoes, with their shared meaning being that of a single-minded and very violent obsession that’s impossible to resist—one of the purest expressions of Lust. But while Red Shoes and its EGO are fundamentally egoistic, not wanting to share the glory and pleasure of their desire’s fulfillment, Pink Shoes and Roseate Desire are of a softer shade, spreading their overwhelming lust to as many people as possible. The difference becomes clearer when you compare Rodya’s and Ishmael’s respective obsessions: the longing to be special vs. the desire to kill the “source of all evil” in retribution for all she has done.

Applying the former logic to Hong Lu, we can conclude first that he has a desire as strong as Ishmael’s hatred for Ahab, which is quite unexpected for someone who has basically given up on life! Thankfully, the Sin resources his version of Roseate Desire costs tell us a couple of things about his “fixation”: 4 Lust and 2 Envy. The dominance of Lust is self-explanatory, so that leaves us with Envy, which I commented on in the previous section: jealousy over those who can ignore and escape their problems—those who are “free.” Yet, since Roseate Desire and Pink Shoes are characterized by a sort of collective hedonism, so is Hong Lu’s wish to escape his family. Surely such a thing will bring joy to his cut-throat siblings.

And speaking about escapism, Hong Lu’s next two EGOs are all about that, beginning with the one whose Abnormality I analyzed in one of my previous posts: Dimension Shredder.

While Wayward Passenger is an Abnormality that is clearly about the trauma inflicted by W Corp.’s method of operation, it has a secondary meaning that Project Moon uses for its EGO too: being trapped in a horrible duty, necessity, or “path” that makes the individual envious of the life and possibilities others hold. This is best seen with Outis’ Dimension Shredder due to the Envy affinity, though Hong Lu’s Pride version isn’t that far off thanks to the Sin costs: 3 Pride and 3 Gluttony. Basically, it means that Hong Lu is “lost” due to external necessity, by things he can’t control (i.e., his family), but instead of resenting it as any other person would do, he takes pride in that, in having to follow a “terrible path,” because that’s the type of person he knows he is—the kind and understanding one that sacrifices himself.

The second EGO about escapism originates from LobCorp and hence from an Abnormality I haven’t analyzed: Soda and Opened Can of WellCheers, respectively. The two come from a Korean urban legend about people being drugged through juice cans and sold to fishing boats as slaves. Needless to say, the parallels with Hong Lu’s Soda are more than obvious: an envy born from a necessity (Gluttony) that grimly (Gloom) pushed him into a role he doesn’t want. Alternatively, and considering the ending of the Abnormality’s story log in LC, it’s the fulfillment of a fantasy born of jealousy, sadness, and necessity, though that doesn’t explain the Envy affinity of the EGO. Either way, nobody can deny that Soda stands for Hong Lu’s “murdered” wish to flee his circumstances.

The next EGO luckily is from another Abnormality I analyzed some time ago: Ambling Pearl and Effervescent Corrosion. However, unlike Rodya, who keeps the Abnormality’s original meaning mostly intact (safekeeping the “pearl”/one’s meaning from the “filthy” outside), Hong Lu gives it a twist: it’s not about protecting his “life treasure,” but something else

“Faust: For instance, let’s say that Hong Lu held a belief he was certain would be an unchanging constant as he lived in the City. Or, it could be a hope for some other psychological sustainment that has supported his life. Hong Lu: …Hmm. Faust: If that support suddenly collapses in a massively shocking event that causes one to let their “ego” go, his mind would crumble, so to speak. Hong Lu: …Well, I could see that happening. [...] Hong Lu: Hm… I thought I knew, but I can’t seem to elaborate on it with words right now.” - Chapter 3: Hell’s Chicken, Hell’s Chicken.

Unlike Rodya’s desire to be special and her notorious inner conflict, which is reflected in how similar her Corrosion is to a broken Ambling Pearl, Hong Lu is much more secretive about his opinions, usually referring to his frivolous comments instead of using the great insight he has, according to Dante. Nonetheless, even if we don’t exactly know the “core belief” he holds close to his heart (though we should have a general idea at this point), we do know that his version of Effervescent Corrosion, beyond Gluttony or the desire to survive, requires Gloom. So whatever Hong Lu is hiding, it’s far from happy, as his Sin weaknesses further show after EGO usage: weak to Lust and Sloth, to love and inaction—to the idea of not protecting himself.

In a similar vein, Hong Lu’s next EGO is entirely about sadness, as it comes from Blubbering Toad, aka depression incarnated. However, Cavernous Wailing isn’t a Gloom EGO but a Sloth one, and whose Sin costs are Gloom, Sloth, and Pride. That’s to say, Hong Lu’s refusal to take action and the resulting self-pity (“A heart shaken by sorrow bursts… like this.”) are fed by his sadness, indolence, and distorted self-perception, an aggrandized mental image of himself as able to carry all his pain without problem.

“It goes like this. Any of our siblings who managed to survive on their own up to the age of thirteen in our household will probably be a-okay even if they were to be tossed out to the middle of the Outskirts! Hehe…” - Hong Lu, Chapter 20, Canto VII.

Finally, the last EGO is the newly added Lasso, which comes from Rose Hunter, and really, its Mirror Dungeon Encounter puts it the best: Rose Hunter is the one who makes sure all stories follow their natural course, their flow, and “he” is no exception; the Hunter is willing to get lost if that’s the story it must obey. Fittingly, Lasso represents the same idea of not resisting one’s “tale” or “myth,” going along with what’s written not out of indolence or apathy, but because it’s necessary, akin to the motif of the “fetters of fate,” for example. In that regard, their underlying archetype is the same as that of the Orphic Ananke, the deification of the necessity that created the universe, which can be best understood through the following aphorism: existence came to be because it exists. Or put it in a simpler manner: you must follow your nature because that’s who you are.

Hong Lu’s Lasso, in the same way as Faust’s, requires first and foremost Gluttony to work, for that’s the entire deal of the Abnormality. Then comes the Lust requirement, which implies this “work” is also done out of either love or a twisted desire, a mania for things to follow their assigned nature or role. The final Sin cost is the variable one, which for Hong Lu is Pride again, his aggrandized sense of self that drives him to fulfill his role without complaining, solely out of love and necessity.

So, with all the EGOs analyzed, we can rescue the following:

Hong Lu, more than anything, wishes to escape the situation he has been put in. He wants to be free behind all those frivolous and/or insensitive commentaries.

However, due to his upbringing, he “murdered” those wishes so to speak, and remains walking the path his family has put him by many reasons, chief among them his love for them and his distorted perception of his own self.

Thus, all that longing and yearning for freedom remains hidden, barely able to see the light of the day except in the rarest of occasions. That’s likely his “pearl,” the thing that he ultimately hides for his own survival.

About His Base ID and EGO

You know, I have always been curious about why people are so adamant about Hong Lu being depressed. No doubt he has depression at some level, but I don’t think it’s as severe as people normally think it is because his Base ID simply lacks any form of Gloom. This is in stark contrast to Sinners such as Yi Sang, Gregor, and especially Ishmael, since she has a Gloom Base EGO as well. But if such is the case, then what does Land of Illusion means, since it requires Gloom to be used?

However, I think it’s important to understand Hong Lu’s Sin spread first, his psychology in this particular possibility:

His third skill, that is, his most inward and deep trait, is Lust. This Sin placement is only shared with LCB Heathcliff, whose devotion to Catherine is quite literally a multiversal constant as per Canto VI; everything he does, he does it for Cathy. Thus, Hong Lu must have a similarly romantic or affectionate nature, and we know that he isn’t the type to stop “loving” due to the cruelty of a person; his reaction towards the attempt against his life says enough. He even tried to understand the Time Ripper at some level during TimeKilling Time.

His second skill is Sloth, an inaction that’s much shallower but no less decisive, so to speak. One can understand it as deriving from his much more encompassing Lust or Love, which is to say that Hong Lu refuses to take action or initiative in his life out of the love and understanding, in a similar manner to how LCB Faust lets her every move be commanded by the Gesellschaft thanks to her need for self-realization.

Finally, his third skill, his most outward and shallow trait, is Pride. This position is only shared with the Base IDs of Faust (again) and Sinclair, although the former is the easiest one to understand: Faust is somewhat haughty without a doubt, but not egocentric or self-absorbed by any metric; she’s just socially naive and with a great deal of knowledge that tends to ostracize her by her own volition. Pride is, after all, the de facto Sin of distorted self-perception, of thinking you are more capable than you really are.

Again, all of this tells us what we already know: the kindness of Hong Lu, his indolence born out of said kindness, and the weight he alone bears on his shoulders. We can’t even say that he has a low self-esteem unless we include in that definition a “imposing limits on who you are,” which, yes, sounds right, but it leans too much in the territory of semantics for my taste. Furthermore, Hong Lu’s strange relationship with Gloom and sadness can also be contrasted with the Sinners I mentioned before, those with Gloom and whose Cantos are available:

Yi Sang was the living stereotype of the depressed person: cold, distant, unfeeling, dead inside, etc. Whatever you name, Yi Sang likely had it.

Ishamel’s emptiness and self-destructivity were well-hidden until her Canto, during which all hell was let loose.

And Gregor is possibly one of the most realistic approaches of all, as we can see with the flashbacks of his past during Canto I. Even so, he… well, remains somewhat functional (and I’m really stretching the definition there xD)

And don’t get confused. In this case, Gloom isn’t equal to feeling sad or being traumatized by any means; every Sinner has their own share of problems, and not all have Gloom. Sinclair had his family and town massacred thanks to Kromer's obsession with him, for example, and while I don’t doubt he feels a deep sadness and regret about it, he doesn’t have Gloom in his Base ID. The same applies to Rodya, her low self-worth, and her guilt about the fate of her neighbors, lacking any sort of Gloom as well. The most extreme and recent case of this is boss Sancho, who doesn’t have any Gloom skill at all, despite her character and story being more than fitting.

Therefore, Gloom, in the straightest sense and avoiding exceptions or little quips, refers to a deep-seated hopelessness, a melancholy that devours all dreams and hopes, causing one to become completely lost in life. In such a case then, it’s not that Hong Lu isn’t sad or, damn, depressed, but that he knows how to manage such emotions so they don’t overwhelm him as they do with Gregor, Yi Sang, or Ishmael. The same likely happens with his wish to escape and his jealousy, for he seemingly knows that no life is truly a “flawless jade.”

“In a way, we’re all ‘deprived’... and that can change a lot of things. Maybe there are things that we can understand only when we’re left with nothing.” - Hong Lu, Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights, Canto VI.

This self-control naturally falls in line with his inclination for Pride and Lust, creating a sort of “transpersonal” point of view that allows him to curb his emotions in order to understand others. It’s quite Buddhist or Taoist, no? This kind of detachment over life I explained before, I mean. In a way, it strengthens the theory of Jia family elders treating Hong Lu as a golden child, and while he doesn’t seem to really like the idea, he resigned himself to it.

“I can't do much about what I was born with~ To them... I was a gem of a child.” - Hong Lu, Liu Association South Section 5 Uptie Story.

He renounced all the transient things in his life, all of his wishes and sadness, in order to carry out his family’s expectations: the preferred family head candidate. And what is another form to call transient things? Illusions.

Land of Illusion is the culmination of Hong Lu’s hidden sadness, his yearning to escape that will forever remain out of his reach—or at least he thinks so.

“With this there is often, to a smaller or greater extent, a savior complex, or a Messiah complex, with the secret thought that one day one will be able to save the world; the last word in philosophy, or religion, or politics, or art, or something else, will be found.” - Marie-Louise von Franz, The Problem of the Puer Aeternus.

Hong Lu doesn’t believe himself to be a savior, naturally. But I cannot deny that it would be very much in character for him to imagine or fantasize about a world where he doesn’t have to fulfill his family expectations, where they can all be happy. That would explain the Lust cost of Land of Illusions, as well as the weaknesses to Envy and Wrath, which are a stand-in for the rejection of his innermost wish.

But alas, at the end, life has its flaws, and there’s no way Hong Lu will raise a fist against his family. Even if his survival depends on it, Hong Lu won’t defend himself because that would mean choosing and thus losing, and there’s nothing more terrifying to the eternal child than losing things. Death is a much more merciful and tempting possibility than acting and suffering.

“The puer aeternus very often has this mature, detached attitude toward life, which is normal for old people but which he acquires prematurely—the idea that life is not everything, that the other side is valid too, that life is only part of the whole existence. [...] So before he has gone down to earth, he already has the offer of death.” - The Problem of the Puer Aeternus.

In this regard, it doesn’t matter much Dante’s rewind or the actual existence of an afterlife. It’s the idea of death as a solution for a hard life, instead of confronting the problem itself, of standing up and withstand the uncertainty and pain of life.

AAt the end of his Canto, Hong Lu will have to stand up for himself and to carry on the pain. That's how a "child" becomes an "adult," or better said, an actual family head.

Post-Commentary

... Yeah.

To be honest, I don't know where the inspiration behind came for this. It just fell on me one day, like Faust's theory. But where I'm confident in that one, I'm completely lost in this post, especially because while the conclusion seems right (standing up to the abuse and expectations coming from one's family), the reasoning is somewhat flimsy? I don't know. I have the feeling that I'm retreating Canto VII's (and even Canto III's) story and themes somehow, though the similarities may be the reason of why Xinchun was introduced, maybe. That would make Don's confusion funnier xD

The final mentions of the puer aeternus (similar to the Peter Pan syndrome, but not quite) are due to how Hong Lu's character screamed "puer" to me, surpassing every other one. The fact his summary highlighted that he is a "bachelor" brought to mind this little quote of Marie-Louise's books:

“The two typical disturbances of a man wh ohas an outstanding mother complex are, as Jung points out, homosexuality and Don Juanism.”

If a man gets around too frequently, he'll obviously not get married. If he's gay, then even less reason to do so or look at women. In this case, the idea is not about the actual sexual orientation of Hong Lu (or the accuracy of the book's assessment), and more about highlighting his refusal to commit.

Also, as a funny note, The Problem of the Puer Aeternus has a fragment that's really similar to, from what I've gathered, the warnings the monks gave to the Stone at the beginning. Since the book also deals with the case of Saint-Exupéry and The Little Prince, there may also be something interesting regarding Demian (Limbus', not Hesse's).

Anyway, and repeating myself, if you have any other opinion or thought you want to share, feel free to do so! Similarly, if you notice any orthographical or grammatical error, let me know. It's difficult to see them, even when using several online tools...

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Hello! This might be a silly question, but I was curious if you have any future Hazbin/Helluva fics or ideas planned once transmissions is completed? Whether it be Drift or Vox & Al centric or otherwise? Absolutely no pressure of course, you do whatever makes you happy at your own time, I know you’ve sorta elaborated a little on it in other asks before but I wasn’t completely sure lol (everyone btw please go read these fics and give them traction! They are so so good!)

Awww, Anon <3 You got me all blushy now! Really though, glad you like my fics! Was actually in the middle of writing up the next Transmission chapter too, coincidentally <33

But yeah, actually I have a list of different ideas for more helluva/hazbin shenanigans, mostly taking place in the same verse! Haven't decided which to actually start penning yet, and maybe you guys could let me know what interests you the most! Here's a short synopsizes of the ones I had sorta outlined:

For those of you that have read Statistical Outliers, you might remember Vox mentioning an event called the Grand Exhibition, an annual ball that's thrown by overlords for overlords. You might also recall that there's a party that originally inspired that one, a goetia party which even Vox described as 'beyond exclusive'. Well, our media man himself warrants an invitation to this exclusive event, the first overlord personally invited since the one that started the overlord ball! But there's both pluses and minuses to be one of the only Sinners among an echelon of demons who, um, have their own agendas. I say one of because now that's Lucifer is back and trying to spread his wings more, his daughter convinces him to take some of the guests from the hotel as a plus one, or two, or six. Which may include, the the ire of the devil himself, our favorite radio host. Sad as it is to say, Vox might just be safer dancing with Alastor than rubbing elbows with this crowd.

That's the short synopsis but it's kinda a celebration of the hellverse as a whole. You might see some appearances from characters you might not suspect, like Drift, the Sins, famous goetia, and potentially a dysfunctional work family of imps ;)

Another idea actually branches off an initiative that Charlie comes up with, with the assistance of Emily, hoping to help bridge the gap between sinners and winners. And what better way to do that than a friendly interview where Sinners can apologize to the Winners that they may have been sent upstairs before their time. That's the pitch, anyways. In reality? Vox, master of television, is brought on board to help make this whole thing run smooth. And of course he plans on bending it all to his own benefit. Everything kinda gets derailed when the first interview ends up being Drift, meeting the man he hit on accident. And you know? The victim here might not act the way you'd think for an angel.

Aside from some more Drift and Vox interactions, this one was going to go into the kid's backstory in more detail, and kinda comment on the disbalance between judgement of Winners and Sinners. What separates one from the other? Sometimes, all it takes is one bad day. Or being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And Vox is over here looking to make this whole thing turn to his advantage.

On the more Helluva boss centered side of things, I do have a fic regarding Striker and his backstory. Written from the perspective of Striker's childhood best friend, its a story about the wilds of Wrath, where rugged childhood adventures turn to gritty adult drama. Its a rollercoaster, meant to show off how exactly Striker got to be who he was and introducing another character who is going to feature here and there throughout the intertwined webs of stories, my helluva oc, Wyld. This one is already written out quite a bit, nearly 200,000 words at this point, just never published. Wasn't sure there'd be much interest in it. Fair warning, this one gets dark in places because it's very much inspired by gritty realistic westerns, like Eastwood's Unforgiven.

Those are the ones on the docket right now, mostly because those are the ones I've outlined so far, but I'm always adding to it. For anyone interested in my fics, the first one is Statistical Outliers, which is where the main man of television meets a scrawny hairball by the name of Drift and takes it upon himself to, uh, rehome him. And why does it seem like Alastor's sticky fingers are involved in this somehow? The sequel, currently ongoing, is called Transmission Not Received , which is a mystery that forces a reluctant Alastor and Vox to work together to figure out who's running across Pentagram City and nabbing kids from right under their parents' noses in the dead of night.

Hoping to get the next chapter of Transmission up soonish and, boy, is it a doozey!

Either way, let me know what you guys think, maybe check out the fics if ya see something that interests you, and a special shout out back to Anon for making my day! <3

Thanks for the ask! <33

[ayakashiz]

Thoughts on Alien Stage FINAL Round

This is gonna be more of a word salad of my raw, biased feelings after watching R7 (with some leftover R6 thoughts) rather than a coherent, comprehensive analysis. Till’s death so far has been the most devastating to me, because I fail to see the meaning or reason behind it, story wise. Sua’s death was a catalyst to shatter Mizi’s rose colored glasses and open her eyes to the cruel reality of their world.

Ivan’s death was the climax of his character arc, both meant to show us his mask finally breaking and a release of his true emotions, and to be a turning point for Till to move forward (I will get back to this). It was also a sobering reminder of the dangerous and unforgiving system the characters live in, shattering the false sense of security built up during All-in and therefore raising the stakes for the upcoming rounds. 

Even Hyunwoo’s death had a similar effect as Sua’s on Hyuna. It fundamentally changed her, exposed her to the ugly side of Anakt Garden and Luka’s true nature (also a direct product of said abusive system).

But who or what did Till’s death change? What did it tell the audience that it hadn’t been told before and what purpose did it serve the plot? His death traumatized Mizi and brought her back to reality, but we had seen that before with Sua. It highlighted Luka’s absolute command of the stage, his power-play and the joy he gets out of asserting dominance over his competition; but that point had already been made very clear in R5. He even used the exact same tactic to win.

I love tragedies, and the beauty, the climax of tragedy is the catharsis it provides. It’s defined as “the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions”, and this is what R6 managed to accomplish perfectly. Granted it still left me with many unanswered questions, but the purpose was clear. 

Till’s death in contrast left me feeling empty. It lacked buildup and catharsis, and in my opinion it stripped the previous round of its initial impact in the overall story (bear with me).

I was excited when I heard about vivimeng’s interview where they stated (very paraphrased) something along the lines of Alien Stage being a story about love and grief, and how the living are affected by those that they have lost. 

We see the way the grief of Mizi possibly being dead affects Till to the point he loses the will to keep fighting for survival in R6, and then we see how shocked and horrified he appears while witnessing Ivan’s death, not as a concept or possibility but something tangible happening right in front of his eyes. This sets the audience up to wonder how that grief (and Ivan’s actions) will affect him, how it will make him question his assumptions about Ivan’s goals and intentions, because they were never able to understand each other in life.

And don’t get me wrong, I did love the way his trauma from Ivan’s death was shown in such a raw way in R7, the memories of him filtered crimson red and Ivan’s hypocritical mocking of Sua coming back to bite him, because unlike what he assumed Till did care, so much so that it ironically contributed to his demise.

What I didn’t like was that, because R7 happened immediately after R6, Till never had time to sit with that grief, never even had time to process it. He didn’t get a chance to look past the visceral image of a friend dying in front of him and question why Ivan acted the way he did, why he decided to throw the round. (Even if Luka’s provocation scene still went the exact same way, it would have hit so much harder if we had some context as to why Till’s reaction is so strong to the point of a nosebleed, beyond the obvious shock and stress of a life or death situation.)

I would have loved to see Till do some introspection, even if it concluded in anger, frustration and confusion. And possibly regret, in some form. Regret is an overarching theme in Blink Gone’s lyrics, full of cheerful proclamations of living in the moment and forgetting the burdens of the past, while Till is clearly still haunted by it. And yet, such regret isn’t shown anywhere. 

This would have been the perfect moment to learn about Till’s POV of the meteor shower scene. Sure, it was an event that affected Ivan more deeply, but I find it very hard to believe that Till (arguably the one who was tortured the worst being in segyein captivity) doesn’t reminisce about it, doesn’t ponder about what would have happened had he made different choices, especially after Ivan’s death. Even the lyrics of the song “the dark crimson air embraces us, lifting our spirits, and the fiery thrill blazes out to the sky” are a blatant callback to it, so I’m surprised none of it was utilized visually or narratively.

Of course, it’s a short video and perhaps challenging to cram everything into a single round but alas… that wouldn’t have been an issue if Till hadn’t been killed off right away. 

Another regret to explore could have been how he was never able to get close to Mizi when he had the chance. He expresses this in his yearbook message to her, and we know he wants to, but his own shyness and perhaps inability to see Mizi eye to eye rather than put her on a pedestal was ultimately his biggest self-imposed obstacle. I would have also loved if Till lived long enough to realize this. Grief (over Ivan and Sua respectively) could have been a vehicle for Till and Mizi to truly connect as friends. I was really looking forward to how their relationship would develop once Till was able to look past his idealized version of Mizi and see how she has grown from that bubbly, sheltered little girl he knew in Anakt. He witnessed some of this in R5, but I don’t think it ever truly sank in.

Overall it was such a missed opportunity to show us Till's perspective and inner world outside of his adoration of Mizi, which is the only POV we ever get from him (I know we might get a comic with his thoughts the same as Ivan and Sua, but this will no longer influence the main story or be acknowledged by the remaining characters either way).

And while the same could be said about Ivan’s character, and I definitely have many questions left about him (which I hoped would be answered via Till), it makes more sense for his POV to be so Till-focused because the nature of his love is obsessive. Through Ivan’s POV we also learn a lot about his inner world, how he sees himself in comparison to others, his self hatred, how his fascination with Till stemmed from finding in him what he thought he himself fundamentally lacked, how he carried a strong desire to connect and be acknowledged by Till but his ability to form attachments in a normal way was stunted from the way he grew up, how he regretted this as an adult, how his near-death experience cemented his masking and complacency as a survival mechanism and how this very thing that helped him survive ultimately kept him isolated, etc etc. A lot was shown about him as a character in two MVs.

And even if Till’s feelings for Mizi had a more innocent, boyish nature (as stated by vivimeng), I would have liked to get a deeper insight into how they began, how and why Mizi became his light and muse and driving force. Of course it’s easy to come to a conclusion, but this is something I wanted to learn from Till himself. There’s also this whole untapped potential and exploration of his most brutal, explosive side, the one capable of turning his former classmate into a sacrificial lamb with zero regret for the sake of expressing his feelings, the one wild enough to risk death or punishment breaking an alien guitar just to get Mizi’s eyes on him. The genius. The mad artist.

There was such a huge buildup of Till being a wild card, the one to finally threaten Luka’s unshakable number one place because of his unpredictability, the one pet to challenge the status quo. I wish the trauma of Ivan’s death had awakened some of that madness, too. 

Rather, the progression of his emotional state struck me as a bit confusing (at least before Mizi showed up). Nothing had changed for the better after R6 and on the very contrary, things had just gotten exponentially worse. Not only was Till already in a depressive state over Mizi, he just watched Ivan die, assuming R7 took place only hours after R6. And yet at the start of the MV he appears very much in control and fairly unbothered up until Luka’s taunt throws him off balance and the reality of his weakened mental state comes through.

There was no narrative progression to how he went from point A at the end of R6 to point B at the start of R7.

I’m not sure if the intention was to show Till being in denial and trying to drown out his feelings but not only did it not come across as intentional but that would also be such an un-Till thing to do. He’s officially described as the most sensitive and emotional of the cast, and he isn’t good at or I think even capable of masking or hiding his feelings to the degree Ivan does.

It also feels like a step back for Mizi’s character development. She spent weeks (months??) with the rebellion and now knows how to use guns and grenades, what it takes to sneak past security and the risks of being seen. Yet when she reached for Till’s hand in the crowd she was back to R1’s blind optimism, rather than the anxiety she showcased before setting off to the rescue attempt.

Even if she had managed to pull Till off stage before the bullet got him, they would still be alone and unarmed (or not nearly sufficiently armed) in a crowd full of segyein. It was far from a victory yet.

I do LOVE how there was a role reversal though, with Mizi fiercely trying to protect him the way Till spent his whole childhood doing, refusing to leave him behind even if that compromised whatever Hyuna’s main plan was (which has been confirmed NOT to be a rescue mission from the start). I reckon also that she was probably so desperate and relieved to see the last of her friends still standing after losing everyone that for that moment she lost sight of the harsh lessons she had learned previously.

There are many wonderful things about the MV too. The art direction is INSANELY good, the use of the flashing colors of the stage to match with Till’s emotional state, the incorporation of the instruments, the beautiful quality of the animation that keeps getting better with each release, and the way they managed to make it so emotionally gut-wrenching despite the absolute banger that is the song. 

I’m glad that Till at least got to die in the arms of someone he loved and felt safe with, being cradled with the gentleness he was deprived of his whole life.

That said, the episode still left me feeling quite empty and disappointed, personally. I’m disappointed that Till’s character was discarded so early. Even if he was to be killed off in the end, I would have wanted them to postpone it a bit longer, give us a bit more time to watch him grow and learn about him and make his death something more meaningful than shocking. 

I’m disappointed that his death was the last nail on Ivan’s coffin, because Till was the only other character who could have carried his memory and give the audience a different perspective from Ivan’s extremely black and white, biased one. I’m disappointed that those answers that the audience was eager to learn were just left as a footnote on Patreon, which makes me feel like they never really planned on elaborating on it in the main story. Though who knows, maybe we’ll get a comic or supplemental material in the future.

I know the series is unfinished, and a lot can still change. I’m still deeply invested in finding out what will happen, especially since Hyuna is one of my absolute favorite characters (who now I’m also terrified for).

Many of my opinions may change with the new releases, but this was my impression now, with Blink Gone as a stand alone MV. I also wanna reiterate that I’m extremely biased because Till is a character very dear to me and I feel like he brought so much life and spunk to the story, so it just seems a little bleaker without him in the picture. 

To be honest the more I marinate on the thought, the more I’m inclined to believe that Mizi was always intended to be the last one standing, and that the plot just took a turn different than my expectations. Either way I’ll be along for the ride and wait for all new updates on Friday.

I refuse to put on my ‘Till is alive’ tinfoil hat because I just cannot handle more heartbreak, lol. But there was that tidbit of information about Sua having a loyal fanbase demanding her revival, so that tells me it is possible in the ALNST universe. There’s also that ‘joke’ comic on Patreon with Mizi spoiling the whole plot (iykyk). So we might actually get to see at least some attempt at Sua’s revival. Who knows!

Anyways I have yapped even more than I did after R6, so I’ll leave it here. If you made it this far, feel free to share your opinions or predictions!

[xosannie]

Our Dirty Little Secret

Part 2 to my fic Dirty Little Secret, check out part 1 is you haven’t already. Thank you for reading <3

☆Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: sex worker!Mingi x fem!reader

☆Word Count: 6.9k

☆Warnings: Mingi is a bit submissive in this, unprotected sex, recording while having sex, praise, sending nudes, hand job, fwb, mention of porn (lmk if I missed anything)

☆Summary: After finding out about your best friend Mingi’s secret porn account, you grew to accept his decision in his line of work. You actually start to feel very curious about it yourself, and Mingi is more than happy to fulfill your curiosity.

☆a/n: This took so long and I don’t really like it that much but I hope you do lol :,)

—————————————————————————

You throw your head back laughing, holding your stomach after your friend said something to make you laugh. You were sitting in a small cafe, matcha in hand, while you chatted with your friend from work. 

“I’m serious, it fell and spilled all over me,” he says, taking a sip of his latte.

“San, you’re such a clutz. How many times has that happened now?”

“Three,” he says quietly, and you laugh harder. 

”Is Mingi coming or what?” San says, rolling his eyes at you.

"Yes, I’m sure he is.”

You hear a ping come from your phone; oh, that must be Mingi. You pick it up and open the message without a second thought, not realizing it was an image he sent.

Loser (Mingi): Should I post this? :))

(attached image)

You choke on your drink, staring at the photo of Mingi holding his hard dick in his hand. San looked at you confused, and you try to compose yourself, trying not to act like a fool in front of your coworker.

“What?” He asks.

“Um… he’s uh stuck in traffic.”

"Bro, you scared me; you’re acting like you saw something you shouldn’t have.”

You felt your ears heat up. Damn Mingi, he did this on purpose. Ever since that night at his house, he started to send you nude videos and pictures of himself; you loved it at first. But then he started doing it to tease you, sending stuff when you were at work or in times when he knew you couldn’t be alone to touch yourself. He’s a menace, that damn Mingi.

You set your drink down to text Mingi back. 

You: WHAT THE HECK?!? 

Loser (Mingi): what? 

You: YOU KNOW IM WITH SAN RIGHT NOW, YOU CANT JUST RANDOMLY SEND ME YOUR DICK LIKE THAT!!

Loser (Mingi): Aww, you don’t like my dick anymore? :(

You internally palm your forehead. In this moment, you thank whatever god there is that you can pull off a pretty good poker face. You glance at San before looking back at your phone, thumbs dancing against the keyboard as you typed back at Mingi.

You: Shut up, where are you? Me and San are waiting.

Loser (Mingi): I’m coming. I’m coming. No need to get your panties in a twist.

You roll your eyes, setting your phone down to look back at San, who was waiting patiently to have your attention back on him.

“He’s on his way,” you huff.

“Great. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

San smiles softly, showing off his dimples, and he takes another sip of his latte. You hear another ding from your phone, and you glance down at the screen in your lap.

Loser (Mingi): So you don’t like the photo? </3

You: Of course I like it. Now hurry up and get over here.

Mingi smiles down at the phone after reading your response. He turns off the car, stepping out and walking toward the door of the cafe. He can see you and San through the window; he was there the whole time watching. He just wanted to see your reaction to his teasing, that little prick. 

————————————————————————

You, San, and Mingi all caught up with each other, updating one another about your lives, telling stories, and cracking jokes. It was now getting darker, the sun started to set, and the cafe became emptier. You check the time on your phone before speaking.

"Oh, they’re going to close soon. We should probably head out.” 

San checks the time as well, looking down at his watch and letting out a sigh. He looked up, glancing at you and Mingi, who sat together in front of him. 

“Yeah, I should probably head home now. I have to study for my upcoming exam.” 

You all agree to end the night here, getting up out of your seats and picking up your trash. Mingi takes your empty cup and drapes your jacket over his shoulder. 

“That’s alright, man. Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks Mingi.”

Mingi and San shake hands, patting each other back. You pull San in for a hug, and Mingi tries to ignore the small pang of jealousy he felt when he noticed San’s arms wrapping around your waist. 

"Bye, Sannie; see you next time.”

“Oh, did you need a ride back home?”

You pull away from the hug, and Mingi steps in, wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I can take her.” 

San glances at the two of you, smiling softly. There was a hint of suspicion in his eyes, but he shrugged it off and waved goodbye.

“Alright, well, I’ll get going. Good night.”

You and Mingi both wish him a good night and watch him walk off. Once San was out of sight, you pulled yourself from Mingi’s hold. You look up at him with an annoyed face, causing Mingi to put his hands up in defense.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I told you to stop sending those things to me when I’m out in public.”

You playfully smack his chest, making Mingi chuckle quietly. You turn on your heels, walking out the cafe and toward Mingi’s car in the parking lot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He follows behind you, catching up fairly easily due to his long legs. He beats you to the passenger seat, opening the car door for you. You huff, climbing in and sitting back with your arms crossed. Mingi couldn’t help the sly smirk plastered on his face as he walks around the car and climbs in the driver seat.

“Wipe that smug look off your face.”

“Or what?”

Mingi leans closer, glancing at your lips, then back at your eyes. He looked so pretty under the dim lighting. You fight every urge to smash your lips against his, but you didn’t give him that satisfactory. 

Instead, you turned your head, looking out the window. Mingi frowned a bit when you didn’t give him what he wanted. He turned the car on, faint music playing quietly in the background.

“Don’t give me that treatment. You loved the photo; I know you did.”

He drove out of the parking lot, and you watched the darkened trees pass by. You scoffed at his words, not bothering to look back at his face. Obviously you liked the photo; you couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole time you were out. You caught yourself staring at Mingi a little longer than you should have, admiring his pretty lips and hands (and all the things they can do to you). 

Your silence only makes Mingi smirk wider, already knowing what’s on your mind. He glanced at you for a second, then back on the road, one of his hands reached down to grip your thigh.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me, baby. I noticed how you were staring at me back at the cafe.”

Your body tensed, and the feeling of his large hand grabbing the flesh of your thigh made you feel a stir at the pit of your stomach. Of all days, why did you decide today was the day to wear a dress? He gripped your thigh, massaging it in his hand, running his fingers higher up under your dress.

“You look so pretty in this dress. It took every ounce in me not to rip it off and pound you in front of San.”

Images of Mingi’s words flashed in your head, causing your breath to grow more shallow. You subconsciously pressed your thighs together; that didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He let out a low chuckle, squeezing your thigh harder. God, you hated how easily he can rile you up. He knew exactly what he was doing; his ego was seriously too big for his own good. 

You take his hand and guide it back to the steering wheel. Mingi cocked his brow up, feeling a sense of amusement when you play hard to get.

“Two hands on the wheel, Mingi.” You teased.

“Fine, but later tonight I’ll have two hands on you.”

After a few minutes of shooting each other glances and bantering with a bit of flirting, you finally arrive at your place. You reach for your belongings, but Mingi already grabbed them for you, your jacket and purse in his hand as he steps out of the car. You rolled your eyes at him and watched as he ran around the car to open the door for you. 

“I’m perfectly capable of opening the door,” you snickered.

“Hey, let me be the gentleman I am.” 

“You just want pussy.” 

Mingi fights back a little; he wasn’t expecting you to say something so straightforward. He closed the door, feeling heat creep up on his cheeks. Thank God it was dark out so you couldn’t see him blush.

“That’s not...” he says quietly. 

He was brought back to his senses when you walked past him. There was a sly smirk on your face; shy Mingi was always so cute; you just don’t get to see it often. Mingi catches up to you when you stop at the front door, keys jingling as you turn the lock. 

You both step in, placing your belongings down and slipping off your shoes. Almost immediately, you felt Mingi’s hands on your waist, pulling you close to him. You let out a small yelp, smiling up at Mingi, who towered over your figure.

“Hey, let me breathe first. I just got home,” you chuckle.

“Can’t wait.”

He leans down to place kisses on your neck. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness, and you push him away slightly. He shoots you a small pout when you reject him, and you coo internally at his expression, reaching up to pinch his cheek. 

“Down boy,” you joke. 

Mingi reluctantly pulls his arms off you with a huff. He walks over to the couch and plops down on it, sulking like a puppy who just got scolded. You laugh at his behavior, walking to him and cupping his jaw.

“I’m going to go shower, then you can have all my attention.”

His head perks up at your words, and a smirk widens on his face. 

“Can I join?” 

“No Mingi. Just be good and wait okay.”

His body slumps at your words. A strange feeling crashed over him when you told him to be good; he had no choice but to give in. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long then.” 

“I’ll be quick; don’t worry.”

You ruffle his hair before walking away, swaying your hips more than usual. Mingi watched you intently, admiring your figure. Once you were out of sight, he let out a sigh, falling back on the couch. 

“Damn tease,” he whispered to himself. 

He picked up his phone in an attempt to find some kind of entertainment. He opened the Twitter app and was immediately met with porn videos. He forgot to switch back to his regular account again; he really needed to get out of that habit. He looked through his DM's  and noticed an unopened message from the buyer of the video you helped Mingi film. He smiled at the message after reading it.

“This was hotttt😍 correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like someone helped you film this?? If that’s the case, I think you should film more with them; I’m sure others would love to see it (I know I will).💋”

Film more with them? Mingi likes the sound of that. He’s always fantasized about recording you while you both fucked, maybe even posting it if you allowed it. But he was always too nervous to ask, afraid that might scare you away.

After a few minutes, you finally get out of the shower. When you walked back in the living room now wearing sleep shorts and a black spaghetti strap top, Mingi (unashamedly) checked you out. He couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face when he saw you. 

“I’m back, did you miss me?”

“Yes, very much,” he says without taking his eyes off your hips. 

You walk past Mingi, sitting on the couch next to him while his eyes stayed glued to you the whole time. You kick your feet up on the couch, getting comfortable and trying to ignore Mingi’s hard gaze. You reach forward to grab the remote and turn the TV on. 

“You know you never answered my question from earlier,” Mingi said.

“What question?”

“If I should post the picture or not.”

You think back at the nude. Mingi sent you when you were out with San. You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Oh my bad for not answering when you sent me a dick picture in public.” 

Mingi smiled, feeling pleased with himself. He leans back, hands resting behind his head.

“You’re not giving me feedback.”

You roll your eyes at him, fighting back a smile. God, you wanted to shove him down on the couch and sit on his face; that way he wouldn’t be able to give you that smug look. 

"Yes, post it. it’s really hot.” 

You turn back to the TV, scrolling through to pick something to watch. Mingi’s smirk widens; he looks down at you, admiring your pretty thighs. 

“Hot? Did it turn you on?”

He reached down, grazing the soft, supple skin. You allowed Mingi to touch you, still scrolling the TV and failing to find something to watch. You give up, setting the remote down and turning to Mingi. 

“What are you going to do if I say yes?”

He leans in closer, hiding his face in your neck as he takes in your scent. He always loved the smell of your body wash; it drove him crazy. He grazed his teeth against your earlobe, sucking it gently. 

“Whatever you want me to do,” he whispers. 

You giggle softly, pulling his face up to place a soft kiss on his lips. Ever since you and Mingi slept together that one night, you both have been thirsty for each other every second of the day. Don’t get it twisted, you were the same friends you were before… just friends that flirt...and  kiss... and fuck. (That’s normal though, right? Haha…)

You told yourself you wouldn’t think much of it and just go with the flow. You and Mingi both kind of agreed to do that. Neither of you wanted to possibly make each other uncomfortable, so you guys just let things happen without looking into it too deeply.

Mingi hummed in the kiss, moving his hand up to grip your waist. He pulls you closer, the kiss deepening and becoming more passionate. You push him away when you feel Mingi try to pull you on his lap, leaving him wanting more. His eyes flutter open, letting out a small sigh. 

“So how is your porn stuff going?”

You stay close to Mingi, resting your head on your hand while studying his features. Mingi leans back on the couch, though his hands never leave your body. He pushed his hair back, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart before speaking. 

“It’s pretty good. Honestly, I’ve been getting more recognition recently.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great.”

You gently nudge Mingi’s shoulder, proud to hear the good news. 

“I’m not surprised; your videos are so hot, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend.”

Mingi smirked at your words, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and playing with a lock of your hair. 

“Yeah? Which video have you been touching yourself too?”

You shoot him a playful glare, making Mingi laugh to himself.

“Don’t make me take back my compliment.” 

“I’m just messing with you. I hope you know your opinion is very valid to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You fiddle with the necklace resting around Mingi’s neck before replying.

“I really like the video of you humping the pillow.”

Mingi bites his lip; the thought of you touching yourself to his videos makes his stomach churn. He honestly fantasizes about it a lot; he always comes the fastest when thinking about it. 

“Really? Well, I’ll make sure to film more of those.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning closer and resting your head on Mingi’s shoulder. He runs his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands behind your ear. 

“Do other people hit you up asking to “collaborate” or whatever? I don’t know what you call it.”��

Mingi chuckles, shaking his head.

“I mean, yeah, there are a few mutuals of mine who DM me. But I don’t like the thought of fucking just anyone. I don’t care if other people do it because it is for work, but I don’t know... I prefer to do it with people I care about. Like you.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. A strange wave of relief courses through your body at his response. You decide to brush off the feeling, looking up at Mingi and poking his chest.

"Awww, you care about me.” 

“Of course I do you idiot.”

Mingi smiles, resting his cheek on top of your head. You hum, feeling a sense of warmth at his actions and mindlessly drawing shapes on his chest. Mingi suddenly remembered something he wanted to show you, then pulls away a bit as he speaks up.

“Oh, look at this message I got.” 

He pulls out his phone, showing you the message from the buyer. You smile, raising your brows while reading it. 

“Film more with me? What an interesting request.” 

"Yeah, right,” he chuckled nervously.

“I’m glad they liked it. I’ve watched the video myself, and it was so hot. Even though I’m the one in it, it’s hot knowing that you’re holding the camera.” 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket after you handed it to him. You weren’t going to lie; you have previously thought about what it would be like to be in one of Mingi’s videos. Of course you never mentioned it to him; you were just nervous. But the more you scrolled through Mingi’s and other people’s accounts, your curiosity grew stronger. Maybe this was a sign?

Mingi noticed the way you started to get lost in thought. He leaned down, curiously trying to meet your gaze. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

You snapped your attention back at Mingi. You stared into his brown eyes; in this moment, you decided to speak up. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? 

“Just thinking… I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

Mingi raised his brows, his eyes widening a bit. He shifted in his seat, moving his body to fully face yours.

“Wait really? Like, you want to film with me?” 

Mingi felt his heart racing in his chest, and you smiled at how excited he looked. If he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now. You nod your head, placing your hand on top of Mingi’s.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. It sounds… fun.” 

Mingi breaks into a huge smile, pulling you in for a hug. You laugh at his reaction; he’s acting as if he won a prize. But to Mingi, that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Okay! When? Where? What do you want to do?”

“Mingi, calm.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. He shut his mouth in a closed lip smile, showing off his cute dimples. You couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to poke his cheek.

“We can do it whenever. Today even, if you don’t mind.”

"Oh, I don’t mind at all.”

You felt a strange wave of relief wash over your body. You didn’t notice how anxious you were feeling till you heard Mingi’s encouragement. He stands up off the couch, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You looked at him with a questioning expression, warily taking his hand in yours.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled you up off the couch, leading you through the house.

“We’re going to your room.”

He smiles wide, prancing through the hall and into your bedroom. You shake your head at him, finding his excitement endearing. He pushed the door open, leading you in and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He looked up at you, eyes sparking with eagerness. You step in between his legs, running your hand through his hair. You feel Mingi wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Someone is eager,” you tease.

“You can’t blame me; do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you for content?”

You cock your head to the side, cupping his jaw and holding his face still. The act was weirdly dominant, Mingi likey. You raise a brow to give him a questioning glance. 

“Just for content?” 

Mingi’s breath hitched at your change of tone, his mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to find words. 

“Well, of course, not just for content. What I meant was... you know what I mean,” he whined. 

You giggle, leaning down to kiss his lips.

“I’m just messing with you, Mingi.”

He felt his heart swell at your soft touch. He couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes; you just looked so pretty. He wanted you to keep kissing him; he needed to taste more of your lips. 

“Alright, I think you’ve been waiting long enough. Let’s get started.” You chimed.

Mingi nods eagerly, smirking wide.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you down, causing you to let out a surprise squeal, then giggle as you settle yourself on his lap. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as he smashes his lips on yours. You both kiss each other hungrily, his hands on your waist as you grip at his hair.

You hear him groan in the kiss when you pull at the strands; god, you loved that sound. You couldn’t help yourself when you did it again, only harder this time. Mingi let out a moan, the sound shooting straight to your core. 

You pulled his shirt, tugging the hem as a silent way of saying you wanted it off. Mingi chuckled at your actions, knowing exactly what you wanted. He pulled away for a second so he could pull his shirt off in one swift motion.

With no time to waste, he was back on you, pressing hot kisses down your neck. You let out a sigh, basking in the feeling of his lips, and guided your hands down his bare chest. He continued to lick and suck at your skin, making you let out small moans. 

“Baby, let’s lay down on the bed,” you breathed out.

Mingi nodded, reluctantly pulling himself off you and giving you one last kiss on the lips. Mingi moved up on the bed, and you followed closely behind. Crawling back on top of his body, smiling prettily down at him. His hands instinctively rest on your waist when you straddle him.

“Can I have your phone?”

“Yeah, yes,” he breathed out. 

Mingi pulled his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. You grabbed it, leaning down to kiss his lips. He entangled his hand in your hair, moaning softly when you trailed kisses down his neck. You looked up at him through your lashes when you moved further down. You pressed warm kisses down his bare chest to his stomach, slowly licking back up. 

“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he moaned breathlessly. 

You chuckled, sitting up and pulling at the buckle of his pants. 

“You’ll have me, baby, don’t worry.” 

Mingi’s hands fumbled to help you unbuckle his pants. He pulls them down for you and throws them on the floor. You turn on his phone, opening the camera app. 

“Mmm, look at you,” you say.

Mingi lay there, breath-grown, labored, and dick hard in his boxers. You can see a slight wet patch on the front. Holy fuck, you were going to devour this man.

Mingi’s dick twitched in his boxer briefs when he saw you point the camera at him. He heard the ding on the phone, your eyes fixated on Mingi’s pretty body through the screen. You reached down, your finger lightly grazing the bulge in his underwear. Mingi’s hips buck up slightly, and shiver runs down his spine.

“Look at you, such a pretty boy.”

Your voice took a tone Mingi never really heard before. It was soft yet dark; he wanted to hear more. He chuckles softly at your words, feeling a wave of desire crash over him at your praise. You run your hand up his body, making sure everything was in frame. 

“I’m pretty?” Mingi asks in a dark, seductive tone. 

You nod, humming in agreement. You slowly trace your finger down his torso, almost as though you were teasing both Mingi and the viewer. You hook your finger on the waistband of his boxers, tugging it at an agonizingly slow pace. 

Mingi huffed at your teasing hands. He knew you were putting on a show for the video, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit impatient. You felt him squirm slightly and chuckled at his behavior.

“Needy aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Mingi says softly, with a hint of a whine. 

The sound shot straight to your core, turning the ache in your pants into a throb. God, you needed to hear Mingi whine; you needed to hear him beg. Finally, you pulled the underwear all the way down; his hard length springs up. You giggle softly, cooing at the sight. 

You don’t know what came over you, but you couldn’t help but want to tease Mingi. Although Mingi didn’t seem to mind much. His dick twitch at your condescending tone, making his face flush in embarrassment. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You grasp his length, letting a wad of spit fall down onto the tip. Slowly, you envelope his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Mingi moans softly, watching the way you held the phone close to your face as you recorded yourself jerking him off. The whole scene was so hot, Mingi couldn’t help but feel turned on by the thought of you recording him in such a vulnerable state.

The wet noises of your hand moving up and down on his dick filled the room. You moved your hand faster, watching Mingi’s expression this time. He was already looking at you, and you smiled at him. He whimpered when you locked eyes, his brows furrowing as a small pout threatened to grow on his lips. 

He reached down to grip your thigh, needing to feel you in any way he could. Subconsciously, Mingi started to slowly buck his hand up into your fist. You hum at the sight, biting your lip.

“You’re such a needy boy. You want more?”

“Yes,” Mingi whimpered.

“Yes what?” 

Mingi threw his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes closed as he felt his face grow hot. He knew what you were asking from him, but he was too shy to say it. You gripped his length tighter, stopping the movement of your hand.

Mingi whimpers loudly at the pain, body jerking and dick twitching with pleasure. 

“Yes, what?” You asked again, this time in a darker tone.

“Yes please. Please, I need more,” he whined, covering his face in embarrassment. 

You smiled wide at him, loosening the grip on his cock and jerking him faster. 

“That’s a good boy.”

Mingi moans at your praise, hips bucking up faster than before and dick twitching excitedly. You watched, feeling slightly surprised by his reaction.

“Oh? Does the big boy like to get praised?”

“Yesss,” Mingi whines. 

He gripped your thigh harder, continuing to fuck up into your hand. It was all so embarrassing yet so hot to him. Having you toy with him while you recorded. He felt like he was under your control, and fuck he loved it more than he ever thought he would. 

“Thats right, baby, fuck my hand.”

You completely still the movement of your fist, encouraging Mingi to continue to thrust into your hand. He does just that, bouncing up and down on the bed as he fucked your fist. He continued to let out whimpers and whines, feeling both ashamed and aroused by how pathetic he looked. 

You hummed in delight, making sure you got the best angle of Mingi fucking himself. You moaned softly when you saw a drip of pre-cum ooze out the tip. You pulled your hand off, making Mingi whine desperately, his hips still fucking the air looking for friction. 

You giggle softly, watching the way his dick bounced pathetically. Your fingers find their way on his slit, pulling away and watching a string of pre-cum connect to your finger and his tip.

“So wet, baby.”

You move the camera closer to his length, showing off the pretty cum dripping down his cock.

“It’s all for you,” he says quietly. 

That was your breaking point. You needed Mingi; you couldn’t wait any longer. Your pussy throbbed so much, and you felt your slick stick to the fabric of your shorts. You stopped the recording, setting the phone on the mattress and leaning down to kiss Mingi. He pushed away slightly, looking at you confused.

“Why’d you stop recording?” He breathed out.

“I can’t take it. I need to fuck you, Mingi.”

Mingi whimpered, pulling you down by the nape of your neck to smash your lips together. Your tongues danced against each other, yours exploring his mouth as he lay limp and let you use him however you like.

“Oh god, yes, please do,” he whined. 

You chuckled, pulling away to rip your shirt off. Your beautiful breast was on display for Mingi; he was mesmerized by the sight. He reached up and squeezed them; you smiled at the way his large palms enveloped your breast. 

“You’re so sexy.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words. Mingi smiled up at you, finding your giggling cute. His hands roam down your body, sliding over your waist to your hips. You felt his large hands grip your ass through your shorts, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Take them off for me, Mingi.” 

Mingi smirks wide, wordlessly pulling your shorts off and down your legs. He moans softly at the sight of you; you had no underwear on, which left you completely naked sitting on top of Mingi.

"God, I need to be inside you, baby. I can’t wait any longer.”

You completely sit down on him, your warm, wet pussy pressed against the underside of his cock. Mingi furrows his brows and grips your hips tightly. You began to rock your hips back and forth, your wetness leaving a glistening trail on Mingi, and he moans softly.

"Why are you teasing me?” he whine. 

You giggle, enjoying the feeling of your swollen clit rubbing against the head of his cock. You couldn’t help but smile at him mischievously; your hands rested on his pecks, and you grabbed the flesh beneath your palms. 

“You just look so cute... whining for me,” you say breathlessly. 

Mingi pushes his head back against the pillow; he was so turned on he needed to feel you already. You glance at Mingi’s phone laying on the bed beside him. He followed your gaze and smirked; he knew exactly what you wanted. He picked it up, opened the camera app, and pressed record. 

You lifted your hips a bit, taking his hard length and aligning it with your sopping hole. Mingi watched through the phone, moaning loudly when you sunk down on his cock. Your hands rested on his stomach, clawing at the skin beneath. 

“Fuckkk,” he moans. 

You moan breathlessly, moving your hips up and down slowly. You already felt your legs start to tremble at the feeling of Mingi filling you up. 

“You fill me up perfectly, baby. Show them how pretty your dick looks sliding inside me.”

Mingi groans at your words, moving the camera closer to you pussy sucking up Mingi’s dick effortlessly. You kept a slow, steady pace; you were so wet you could hear the squelching noises coming from your pussy. Mingi bites his lip, pulling the camera away to show off your pretty body while grabbing your hip with his free hand. 

“Baby,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

Mingi moans at your words, you didn’t have to tell him twice. He planted his feet flat on the bed and thrust up into you at a fast pace. You let out a yelp as intense pleasure coursed through your entire body. Skin slapping against skin as Mingi bucked up into your pussy, he was mesmerized by the way your thighs jiggled when coming contact to his pelvis. 

He held the phone in his hand tighter, groaning loudly as he fucked into you. You couldn’t help the high-pitched moans that escaped your lips; you were in pure ecstasy. And based on the way Mingi’s eyes were glued to your face, brows furrowing, and mouth agape, you could tell he felt the same way. 

“Fuck…so good. Your pussy is so good.”

You moan at his praise, looking down at the phone that was pointed toward you. You felt so vulnerable, and the thought that other people will be watching this video, jacking off to Mingi fucking you, drove you crazy. 

Mingi’s hips stopped when the burn in his abdomen became too much to bear and he panted heavily trying to catch his breath. You decided to give Mingi some time to rest and reached behind you. You planted your hands on Mingi’s thighs and lifted your knees up till your feet rested on the mattress.

“You did so good. I’m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby.”

Mingi whined when he watched you change positions and nodded eagerly. 

“Okay.” 

With the new position you put yourself in, your pussy was on full display for Mingi and the camera. You rocked your hips up and down, your tits bouncing with your movements. Mingi moans louder, watching intently at the way his dick disappeared in your hole. He was trying so hard not to drop the phone in his hand, wanting to capture this moment forever. 

With the new view, Mingi found himself getting closer to his release. Watching you bounce on his cock was just too intoxicating.

“I’m close, baby.”

“Just a little longer, okay? I’m almost there.”

Mingi’s hand gripped tightly to your thigh, sliding up till his thumb pressed against your clit. You whined at the feeling, legs trembling when he rubbed circles on the sensitive nub.

“Yes yes. Keep doing that, baby. Fuck, I’m close.”

“Cum on my cock, please. I need it.”

Your nails dug into Mingi’s thighs, legs almost giving out when you came on his dick. You clenched so hard around him as your hips stuttered. Mingi’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he tried with all his might not to cum inside. Now that's a good boy.

You pulled off him, his dick slipping out and hot streams of cum shot out to cover his stomach. You watched with a sly smirk, reaching down to jerk him off. 

“Fuck!”

Mingi’s body trembled from his intense orgasm, some even landing on his chest and neck. You giggle, and when you notice him coming down from his high, you slow the pace of your hand, not wanting to overstimulate him. You grab the phone from him (surprised he didn’t drop it at this point) and point the camera closer to his cum-covered body.

"Mmm, you see that. What a messy boy.” 

You both pant heavily. Mingi chuckled breathlessly at your words, looking down at his body. You stopped the recording, setting the phone down on the bed. You both smiled at each other, Mingi reaching up to cup your face. 

“Can’t wait to watch that later,” you smirk. 

Mingi rolls his eyes, laughing breathlessly. He pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss on your nose. You rested your elbows on either side of his head while staring into his pretty brown eyes.

“That was so fucking hot. I didn’t know I was the submissive type, but damn, we need to explore that more.” 

You laugh heartily, kissing Mingi’s cheek before speaking. 

"Yes, we do. I swear I almost started running laps whenever you begged for me.” 

“I folded when you called me a good boy.” 

You and Mingi couldn’t help the funny comments. Maybe it was weird that you were cracking jokes after getting dicked down by your best friend, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull away, sighing and looking down at the cum that smeared on your body. 

“Now I have to take another shower.”

Mingi laughs at your words, running his hands up and down your sides. He looks up at you with pleading eyes before asking in a hopeful tone.

“Can I join you this time?” 

You decide to throw him a bone, smiling down at him and nodding.

“Yes Mingi. Come on.”

Mingi exclaimed in excitement, picking you up effortlessly and taking you to the bathroom. You squeal when he throws you over his shoulder, and you smack the small of his back.

“Hey, warning next time you decide to manhandle me.”

“No time, must take you to the shower.”

“How do you still have this much energy after what we did?”

————————————————————————

“Ugh, dammit.” 

You lean back in your chair when you see the red letter pop up on your computer screen. 

‘You died’

“Why is this level so hard?” 

Your mumble to yourself. You hear your phone notification go off and light up next to your keyboard. You pick it up and smile to see a message from Mingi. 

Princess Mingi: HELLO!? LOOK AT HOW MANY LIKES OUR VIDEO HAS 

(attached image)

Your eyes bulge out of your head after seeing the screenshot Mingi sent you. 

You: 72k?!? WHAT??

Princess Mingi: This is literally my most liked video. People love you, they think you're hot and want to know if you have an account. 

You couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at the thought of people wanting to see more of you. Maybe you should dabble into this kind of work. You were pulled out of your thoughts when another ping rang from your phone. 

Princess Mingi: You should say fuck it and join the sex work community. I think you will do very well.

Princess Mingi: I’ll be your first subscriber ;)

You: I’ll block you before you can find my account 

Princess Mingi: Hey :( you wouldn’t do that to your good boy, would you? :(((

You: Yes.

You giggle to yourself after teasing Mingi. It was just so fun. He sent another message, and your giggles immediately die down when you see the image.

Princess Mingi: (attached image)

What about now? :)

You: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT SENDING ME YOUR DICK

Princess Mingi: YOU SAID NOT TO DO IT WHEN YOURE IN PUBLIC. I KNOW YOURE NOT 

You: WELL NOW IM HORNY AND ALL ALONE

Mingi doesn’t reply back and you see the little ‘read’ text under your message. You furrow your brow in confusion, that bitch, leaving you on read. You set you phone down and turn your attention back to your game on the screen.

After a few minutes, Mingi never replied back. Thats weird. You decide to text him again, he never leaves you on read. 

You: Hey, are you alive?

You were surprised when you saw the three dots appear pretty quickly. 

Princess Mingi: I’m here. Open your door :)

You stare blankly at the phone screen, sitting there dumbfounded. You’re brought back to reality when you hear a honk outside your house. You peak through your window and see Mingi walking out the car and up to your front door. That little shit. 

You: No, stay outside and freeze. 

Princess Mingi: Please let me in :(

You: Why should I? 

Princess Mingi: So I can fuck you good again :) 

You dropped your phone and ran to the front door. Well, it was too cold for him to stay out there all alone. 

————————————————————————

You bite your lip while holding your phone in your hand. 

"Ugh, fuck it.” 

You posted your first nude photo; it was a simple mirror picture of you were in your underwear sitting on your bed topless. You throw your phone on the mattress, feeling nervous yet excited at the same time. You finally did it, you made your own Twitter account. 

After looking at the video you and Mingi recorded for his account, you decided to give in and give the people what they wanted. After a few minutes of pacing around, you pick up your phone to check if anyone has liked your photo yet. You already started getting some likes and a few comments.

You get a notification and press on it immediately. 

‘Sir Min started following you’

You smile to yourself when you read the notification. Of course, Mingi was the first to follow you. You had already told him you were doing it, but you didn’t take into account that he was waiting for you to make your first post this whole time. You get a DM from Mingi, smirking to yourself when reading it.

Sir Min: You look hot, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you more “for content” ;)

~

Tags: @chicksmoothie @wisejudgedragonhairdo @autieofthevalley @breadpuddingboys @pancake-freckle @nanicjj @yunhofingers @cherr-heekisses

[specshroom]

Ok so what do you think would make a monster INSTANTLY attracted to someone. And then how do you think they would vocalize/show it?With said monsters being orcs, merfolk, centaurs, driders, werewolves, and vampires

Okokok so these are all obviously just my opinion :) but here we go:

🧌 I think in orc culture the women initiate romantically and sexually just as much as the men, as opposed to human culture where the men generally are expected to initiate more. So I think any orc would find it hot if you were the one to flirt and initiate contact first.

- They like humans who know what they want and go for it.

- They like humans who can hold their liquor. They just think it's hot.

- They like humans who are a little vulgar. Who swear and shout and are a little rowdy maybe?

- So if you want to attract an orc your best bet would be to just go up to one and flirt heavily with them. If they like you they'll think it's hot that you show your attraction so boldly and they'll flirt back just as hard.

🧜Merfolk generally keep to themselves and their underwater cities. For a merfolk to be swimming in shallow waters means they're probably curious about the surface already.

- These merfolk will be instantly intrigued by a human who is as interested in them as the merfolk is with the surface. They just really like humans who try and talk to them, frantically ask them questions about their species and just seem enamored with their existence.

- A merfolk will fall for a human who brings them cool human stuff they've never seen before and enthusiastically tells them stories about the surface world.

- They'd appreciate humans who aren't scared to swim with them. They know the water is not a humans natural place and that it takes a lot of trust for them to be so vulnerable. They'd straight up take that as a confession of love from the human.

�� In my head centaurs are often depicted as strong stern types. Like noble warriors and such so I think they'd admire humans who are resourceful and independent.

- They won't like any human who disrespects nature. Killing unnecessarily or destroying/ littering wildlife is an absolute no go.

- They like outdoorsy humans who like nature walks or mountain climbing, that kind of shit. Anything from fishing to bird watching really.

- They find archery very attractive for some reason.

- Centaurs are known for being steely and almost cold so if one likes you they probably won't show it immediately but slowly over time by engaging in your shared interests.

🕷️ I think driders are often starved for affection. In my headcanon, driders don't get much affection from their parents because they're very independent and able from a young age so they're never really coddled as children.

- So I think driders would like a human who treats them very gently and sweetly despite not needing too at all because they're fierce hunters.

- They're not the most approachable monsters with their eight beady eyes and venom filled chelicerae. They don't initiate with humans much because they know they can be frightening. It can be isolating for them so they'd love if a human showed no fear towards them and instead treated them as if they were cute rather than scary.

- They'd be absolutely smitten if a human coddled and babied them, calling them grossly sweet petnames like "cutey", "darling" or "baby" while caressing their face gently. Just treating them with such care even though they could kill the human very easily. They might even cry from the affection.

🦇 I think vampires appreciate humans who aren't childish but still have a love for life. People who are lively and curious about the world but still mature and driven.

- I think humans who are exciting and have a thirst for life is what attracts vampires cus it helps them reignite their own love for life which may have dwindled after so many years of being immortal.

- Humans who are reckless with their own lives are a turn off. Vampires already have to experience losing many close ones due to immortality so I don't think they'd appreciate someone who disregards their life or the lives of others carelessly.

- Vampires are harder to categorise because they all come from different backgrounds and stuff but I think if a vampire liked a human most of them would have to know one for a while before bringing up anything serious. They understand the stakes (hah) of falling in love with humans and act accordingly.

🐺 Dog people. Werewolves like dog people. Sorry I know it's basic but I think werewolves are often simple creatures so what attracts them is relatively simple. Nothing wrong with that.

- They see a human walking their dog and they just go "I have a chance!!"

- They like humans who smell like their dog or have dog fur on their clothes, they think it's cute.

- They think it's so cute when humans baby talk dogs while giving them pets. It makes their own tails wag sometimes.

- Now that doesn't mean they like being treated like dogs cus they don't. They just think a dog person is a huge green flag in humans.

- Don't worry, this doesn't mean they hate cat people but they are more likely to flirt and initiate conversation with someone who has a dog or who smells like they own a dog.

[laroserie]

i love the idea of joining the batfam by dating bruce, but can you imagine how awkward it must be ?

like you are dating bruce, you most probably know he is batman (he couldn't date seriously someone and never tell them) which is like a huge thing, you probably knew each others for at least 5 years and dated for at least 2 before you even step foot in his house and even then ! you still have never meet any of his adopted kids, he always has a way of avoiding The meeting.

of course - you know who his kids are, bruce is ... literally the it guy of gotham, you very much know the names and faces of his family - but that's it (now if you know their vigilantes identities is different story)

the question is, are they aware of your existence ? (of course alfred is aware; that out of the question, he followed to development of yours and bruce relationship from a to z)

going more for a no, not at the start, bruce has this clumsy dumb bilionaire personality but he probably could not like for you to receive media attention because he doesn't wish for your privacy to be intruded upon because you are dating (now there may have been one instance where the paparazzi took a picture of you and him together, but they could only see you from the back, or your face wasn't visible for whatever reason). they probably learnt about your existence very late into your relationship with bruce, and it's surely by accident, like, one of them see a message from you to bruce (and it's something probably something very cheesy) when he left it somewhere by inadvertence. and depending on who see that, they either fully open bruce's phone (sorry but they all know his phone password, bruce isn't aware of that tho) and read your conversation or they find some others way to have access to his messages with you (that isn't so blatant).

they for sure, do an 'emergency' meeting about it (dick and damian were the two that really wanted to do one, the rest probably don't care that much at that time, they probably think you are just the fling of the month for bruce - well usually the fling of the month is not that ... cheesy with him ? in their messages, and the conversations aren't usually that long ... nor do they go back that much. but whatever ! they do suddenly notice that it's been a while, since, well the last fling of the month of bruce but, it must just be a coincidence) which end up with them keeping tabs on you, just in case

now, you meeting them could happen in two way

either they are the one to meet you first - they don't want to wait for bruce to formally introduce you to them - or them to you. the one that 'lead' this is for sure damian, he is determinate to find out your intention with his father (and fight you), dick will lie and say he is just there to make sure everything go 'well' but he is just genuinely very curious about you and the fact that you are dating bruce - this can go for most of them, tho cass and tim are probably the one that are the most reticent to meeting you ? but nevertheless, they still are here, because they for sure won't let damian and dick have all the 'fun'. now jason, is probably also coming for the shit and giggle.

or you meeting them could happen because of bruce - deciding that it's finally time you meet his kids, so he invite all of them to dinner telling them he was someone he wants them to meet, and telling you explicitly that he wants you to meet his family (and the people that are part of his family but aren't family family) - of course, he could talk about it with you first, he could never force you into that. the meet - dinner, probably do not go in the way bruce hoped for it to go (but truth be told, he wasn't expecting it to go the way he wished it did). it's not awful, nothing bad happen. it's just awkward. one of them (probably jason) let slip that they already knew about you - damian make it very clear that he doesn't accept you (and dick has to try to diffuse the situation and tell you that damian is just joking - damian is not joking and he gives a death glare to dick), tim probably do not say anything of half of the dinner before asking you a weird question about something he should have no information about (like what's up with one of your weird habit / quirk), cass is just silent - she assess you for the entirety of the dinner (she conclude by the end of it that you quite a nice person and that she likes you quite a bit), duke is very kind and is very polite with you (he is a bit apprehensive and isn't sure why he is there but he figures it's because bruce wanted to have at least one regular person treating you normally - dick is too ... enthusiastic for that role)

at the end of said dinner, when bruce is driving you home, it's probably the most silent ride home you have ever experienced. until you burst out laughing - the dinner was probably the funniest shit you experienced. it felt like it came straight out of a shitty tv show with 14 seasons. sure it was very much awkward but still funny ! you reassure bruce that it was fine, though you could have liked a warning.

and ... you can add a yandere twist on it, and i love yandere so ... . some of them (tim and cass and probably dick) could start developing yandere tendencies when they learn of your existence ( and keep 'tab on you' aka stalks you and learn everything they can about you ), the others (damian and jason + eventually steph and duke even though they are probably some of waaay lesser yandere-y yandere) could start becoming like that after they finally meet you in person. damian could be the one to take the most or less time to become attach on you, it depend, but he could go thru a big phase of 'i refuse for you to replace talia, my mother, therefor i will despite your entire existence' but if you try to get closer to him, this phase will end very soon and his barrier melt away, if you want to let him take his time to accept you, the result will be the same but damian will try to make up for the time he hated you.

and of course, yandere bruce could be so happy for you to like / get to know and get closer to his family, and that's one more way he can tie you to him !

[velvet4510]

Here’s the thing.

Many Bagginshield shippers, especially in fics, focus on how Bilbo never got over Thorin, to the point where some describe Bilbo’s entire life as sad and empty and unfulfilled because of that loss.

Don’t get me wrong: I do agree that he suffered terrible loss and undeserved torment by the Ring. And the fact that he never married probably did have some connection to the memory of Thorin.

But, y’all, don’t forget or ignore the fact that, in Tolkien’s text, Bilbo does move on from grief and live the rest of his life well.

He does not become bitter from his pain. He retains his kind heart.

He is generous with his wealth, helping in every way he can the very community that ostracizes him.

He sees in Frodo a kindred spirit and takes it upon himself to be the parental figure that Frodo so badly needs as an orphan.

He and Frodo develop an uncle-nephew (really more like father-son) relationship built on trust, keeping no secrets from each other, to the level where he tells Frodo the truth about his encounter with Gollum. (And probably the truth about his feelings for Thorin, too.)

He and Frodo have so much fun, going for walks every day, studying the Elvish languages, and throwing big birthday parties to show the community a good time. It’s plain to see that caring for Frodo filled that massive void inside Bilbo, finally giving him someone to love and devote himself to looking after, after his first chance at that (albeit the first being a different kind of love) was taken from him.

He does not see himself as superior to the lower class despite his riches, and always treats the Gamgees with the utmost respect.

He teaches Sam to read and write.

He tells his story to the younger hobbits, inspiring more of them to want to learn more about the outside world and not be so sheltered and ignorant…an effort which ultimately saves Middle-earth because the Travelers learn from him to be curious and interested in the lands outside the Shire, and he inspires them daily, as they constantly say to themselves “if Bilbo could go there and back again despite great danger, so can we.”

He even learns to love having a tarnished reputation, ultimately taking advantage of being “mad” to play a fun prank.

When he is no longer at rest in the Shire, he gifts Frodo all his property which will ensure Frodo is set for life, and through all his passive aggressive gifts to his relatives, he gives the Gaffer genuinely useful items that he knows will help him, including ointment for creaky joints.

He gets a peaceful retirement among his Elven friends, which he spends writing his memoir so that future generations will know all about his lost friends.

And ultimately, he embraces the special gift of an exception from the Valar and rare permission to set foot in the Blessed Realm for one last adventure, where he will continue to look after his beloved nephew.

And the fact is, he never would’ve gotten any of these things if he’d stayed in Erebor. He would never have developed that special bond with Frodo - he may never have even met him - and consequently, Frodo may never have met Sam.

Yes, a lot of his life was lonely and somber. But much more of it, even after experiencing such a tragedy, was full of love and joy and fun and excitement. He became an invaluable caretaker and mentor to the next generation of hobbits, got a taste of fatherhood, passed on his expertise and his story, and spent his last years surrounded by friends and family.

Bilbo Baggins may have lost the love of his life, but he did not give up on life itself, and he lived a full one. Don’t forget that.

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Brothers About How Horribly They Were Treated in Twisted Wonderland

This was requested by @sweetlicorice I hope you like it! It was taking longer than expected, so I only did the brothers, but I will do the dateables in a part 2, don't worry.

Part 2 with the Dateables out now! (Characters included: Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke)

TW: Talk of being Overworked and Burnt Out, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons (but not at you), mental breakdowns, missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry), and nightmares

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters (though I don't think they say it here) and MC is gender neutral, but this is mostly in second person, so for the majority of the story you'll be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters include: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

This will be long, so the stories under the cut

This is organized by character, with a bit of context at the beginning. Enjoy!

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

Lucifer:

You were in his office, as you did somewhat often. It was quieter in there than it was in most of the house, and no one would bother you if you were with him. Plus, sometimes he would let you take care of some of his paperwork, just the stuff that wasn't too sensitive or important, but it lightened his load a bit.

"Why do you insist upon helping me?" He asked, not looking up from his paper, as you looked at your own.

"I'm used to doing more work, and if it makes your job easier, then I don't mind." You shrugged.

"More work? Do you mean like a job?" He asked, somewhat curious. Your file had listed a lot, but you had, apparently, been missing for a while when you were brought to the Devildom, so he didn't know what you had been doing before coming there.

"Something like that." You vaguely answered, finishing a paper.

"I am always here if you need to talk." He glanced up at you, as you pulled out your homework instead.

"Thank you."

A comfortable silence fell over the you two. The ambiance of the fireplace, paired with the low volume on the record he was playing, along with the light scratching of his pen, was calming. His office was always dimly lit, enough to see easily, but also darker than the average room.

It was a quiet environment that reminded you of the days when you would sit in the office of Crewel, him taking pity on the amount of work shoved on you and attempting to help at least a little. Or the days when you would study with Ace and Deuce in the Heartslabyul Common Room, Riddle sitting nearby doing his own paperwork, and Grim resting lazily along your shoulders. It was comforting, yet sad, at the same time.

"Back, in the place where I was," you started softly after a few moments of silence, "there was more that was required of me."

"In what way?" He asked, and though you couldn't tell, off in your own world, he had stopped doing his paperwork to focus on what you were saying, fully enraptured in wanting to know your backstory.

"The headmaster, at my last school, his name was Dire Crowley. And he was terrible at his job." You laughed bitterly. "I showed up there one day, against my will, and practically started running the place once he thought I could handle it, or when he was certain I wouldn't complain." You glared at your paper, thinking back on all that was unfairly thrown at you.

"Like what?"

"Paperwork, was the majority." You answered without thinking. "But there were.... others."

"Others?" He prompted after a few moments of a now, much tenser, silence.

"Your demon form is scary." You looked at him, making eye contact. "But it is not as scary as facing seven Overblots within the span of a year."

"Overblots?"

"The manifestation of out of control magic and strong negative emotions that result in the transformation of the magic user, and the creation of a sort of monster. The magic user loses control of their entire being, and it's very taxing on the magic user." Your eyes were glazed over as you seemed to recite the information with no emotion in your voice. "I don't blame them, for Overblotting, and losing control, the world is cruel. I do blame Dire Crowley, however, for making me responsible for dealing with them."

"That sounds dangerous, for someone without magic."

"It was." You agreed, still looking towards him.

Not at him, but through him, as if you weren't registering how much you were saying. This made him all the more concerned, as he got up and walked over to you, sitting beside you.

"I was also responsible for whatever Dire Crowley wanted me to do. Feed the fireplaces over winter break, find out why our sports players are getting injured, stop that one student from taking over the student body, house these people for this inter-school competition, and on, and on." You listed, beginning to spiral. "I practically ran that school. Me! A magicless human who had no idea what they were doing or where they were or how to handle what was happening to me. He stuck me in a shack, filled with mildew, and mold, that was covered in dust, infested with ghosts, and falling apart at the seams with a fire-breathing cat. And he didn't even make me a student at first!" You looked at Lucifer, tears pricking your eyes. "I was a janitor! And when another student got myself, Grim, and another student in trouble, he was going to throw me out! Onto the streets with no understanding of the world, how it functions, or anything at all!"

Lucifer nodded, trying to get you to calm down silently, wanting to hear about your past, even though it was painful.

"And he'd threaten me, Lucifer! He'd threaten my housing, my food budget, and I had no means of income! I couldn't pay for myself in any regard, I was completely dependent on him! I was his little puppet. The puppet of the 'oh so gracious Dire Crowley'." You began to sob as emotions started to overcome you, them all spilling out as you finally let yourself feel safe enough to feel these emotions. "I was so scared! About what would happen to me, and my friends. I didn't know what the next day would bring."

He brought you into his chest, hugging you tightly, and allowing your tears to stain his red vest. He let you sob and weep as you finally allowed yourself to process the emotions you'd been keeping inside this whole time. He kept his breathing even, trying to get you to match it subconsciously, and he gently rocked you, trying to calm you down as best he could.

"I miss Grim!" You cried out, into his chest. "I miss him so much that it hurts. I feel so anxious without him around."

He didn't ask who Grim was, but he knew it was someone important. He'd ask you about it when you were calmer, for now, he'd just let you cry to your hearts content. It had been a long time since someone had come to him, and allowed him to see them crying, but he didn't mind it so much when it was you. He took pride in being someone you felt safe enough to cry around.

No more paperwork got done that night, but he didn't care. You were more important at that point in time, and Diavolo would understand, he assured you of this, when you tried to apologize for taking up his time and crying on him. He brought up that Diavolo would be more mad if he hadn't comforted you, which made you laugh. You were so tired from crying that not long after you calmed down, you drifted off in Lucifer's arms, on the couch in his office.

Mammon: 

You were hanging out in Mammon's room one night, trying to help him study. Mammon was a lot smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for, the main issue you were having was the effort in which he was putting in. Which was zero. He was much more interested in his video game than his homework, despite the fact that Lucifer had threatened to string him up from the ceiling should he not get a satisfactory grade.

It was almost nice, how familiar this felt. The arguing with him about studying gave you a nostalgic feeling, for when you would study with your First Year friend group, and you would try to pry Ace away from his video games. It was never effective, much like now, but the nostalgia made you keep trying to convince him.

Mammon himself didn't seem to notice the effect this was having on you, too focused on his video game. Not that you cared, better for him to remain oblivious that try to pry your secrets out of you.

You sighed, closing the textbooks that you had brought in, accepting the fate of his grade, and making a mental note to find a spot to at least try to hide him from Lucifer. You watched as he played the game for just a few more minutes before you crawled over, sitting beside him as he played, watching the screen.

"Why're ya so good at homework in the Devildom anyway?" He asked, in the blunt way he normally does.

"Diavolo adjusted my curriculum because I don't know much about the Devildom, so I get assignments that are easier." You admitted, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I appreciate it, my last headmaster wasn't nearly so accommodating." You mumbled bitterly, thinking back on that incompetent headmaster.

"Really? How's that?" He asked, only half-paying attention, as he spam-clicked the button on the controller to his video game.

"Eh, don't think too much about it. Crowley was stupid, and though he claims he was gracious, he was really anything but. At least to me."

"What's 'at supposed to mean?" He asked before exclaiming nonsensical, frustrated sounds at his loss in the video game.

"I was basically his Barbatos, but I wasn't paid. Hell," You laughed mirthfully, "what money I was supposed to get was threatened, actually. More than once."

"Really?"

His attention was still diverted, and you noticed this. He was likely only wanting to hear your voice for background noise while he played, but you didn't mind so much. At least now you can say you told someone. Even if he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, Crowley threatened my food and housing budget more than once. And he'd push all his work onto me, even though I really shouldn't have had that much responsibility put on me. After all, I was someone without magic in a magic-teaching school, from another world. I didn't know anything." You shrugged lightly, trying not to move Mammon's arm too much, because your head was still resting on his shoulder. "I can't say I miss that part of it."

"What do ya miss then?" He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

"My friends. I had a group of friends that were pretty tight-knit. Trauma bonded, more like it." You laughed. "And Grim. I miss Grim."

"Grim?"

"My cat."

"Ya sound like Satan."

"Grim was a special cat. He could use magic, and fly, and talk. You remind me of him sometimes." At that he finally paused the game to look at you.

"I, remind ya of... a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." You smiled, laughing lightly. "He was sarcastic, and demanding, and greedy. He called me Henchman, you call me Human." He rolled his eyes. "But underneath your... bravado, is a very nice person, who cares a lot. Grim and I... we only had each other. So it just makes sense that we bonded. I miss him, a lot. He used to sleep in my bed, and he'd always be there with me. I've been having trouble sleeping without him. It just feels like there's something missing." You admitted in a soft and sad tone. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll be yer Grim 'til we can convince Diavolo or Barbatos, or maybe Solomon to get yer cat." He said quietly, rubbing your upper arm. "Ya can sleep in here whenever ya need, ok?" You nodded. "Wanna watch a movie?" You smiled at him, nodding once more, as he turned the TV to one of the bajillion streaming services the family all pay for, because they share, and arguing with you about the best movie to watch.

Leviathan:

Leviathan was out in public with you, having gone to an anime themed event at a cafe in the Devildom. He was so excited, that you just couldn't resist when he asked if you wanted to go with. It was nice to hear him rant and ramble about all the things that he was passionate about.

"There's a cat in the anime that waitress is from! And he's super cool!" Levi started. "He can fly, and talk, and use magic. He's also very stubborn, like a donkey. But he's a favorite in the fandom because of how cute he is."

"I know someone like that." You mumbled without thinking, your mind wandering to your feline friend.

"You do?!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." You smiled. "His name was Grim, and he used to live with me, back in the time before."

"Really? Tell me more!"

"He wasn't super smart, or very hard working. He used to call me Henchman, and demand cans of tuna. But when it came down to it, Grim was the one I could rely on the most. But, that might also be because we literally couldn't leave each other." You told him.

"You couldn't?"

"No. I don't have magic, and he did. I'm human, he was a cat. The headmaster of my last school decided to be 'oh so gracious'," you quoted, making air quotes around his catchphrase, "and make the two of us one singular student, allowing us to attend his magic school."

"That seems... dumb. To say the least."

"It was." You deadpanned, before the both of you laughed. "He was a bad headmaster. Towards the end of my stay there, I was practically headmaster, just because of how much work he pushed onto me because he could. But while I was at that school I made friends. And I had Grim. Even if the situation I was in was less than ideal." You smiled as the waitress delivered the food you ordered, with a bundle of silverware.

"Ah. I bet you'd prefer them to an otaku like me."

"Not true!" You defended, pointing your fork at Leviathan. "I like you plenty fine, Levi. You actually remind me a lot of my friend Idia. But," you laughed awkwardly, "at least you leave the house sometimes, and aren't afraid of confrontation. Or, at least, you're not afraid to confront some people. Like your brothers." You set your fork down, stopping your silent threat at Levi, that wasn't actually very threatening to him.

"He was an otaku too?"

"Yes indeed, and a master gamer to boot."

"Better than me?"

"It's hard to say." You shrugged. "The games you guys play are similar, but different. It's not a fair comparison." He seemed placated by this answer. "Your brothers remind me of a lot of my friends from there." You said vaguely.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. They're my friends, of course I miss them. And it's not like I know if and when I'll be able to see them again." You explained gently. "I don't miss the work though. Diavolo was nice and assigned me a tutor and easier assignments until I get the hang of the normal work here. And no one makes me do any extra work, or threatens my food or housing. Well, Lucifer threatens punishments sometimes, but he would never threaten my food or housing, and I won't get punished as long as I do my best and behave." You rambled, smiling at how nice it was here, compared to it was in Twisted Wonderland. "Plus, I have all of you, and Diavolo, and Barbatos, and the other exchange students. I miss my friends from there, and I really wish that I had Grim here with me. But I am happy here." You beamed.

"Maybe if we ask Lucifer, he may know how to get your cat." Leviathan suggested, smiling lightly.

"I would love that. He acts like Mammon, but he feels like an emotional support cat. And, I bet Satan would seriously love having him here too."

"You know, we're all here. If you want to talk."

"I know." You glanced around. "What anime is that cosplay from?" You asked, gesturing at another waitress, changing the subject.

He glanced, and started beaming, immediately launching into a rant about the anime it's from, and the character themself. It was nice that he didn't question the change in subject. You'd tell Levi and the others all about what happened to you, and about what Twisted Wonderland was like. Eventually. Maybe.

Asmodeus:

Saying Asmo was flirty, was an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. And while he flirted and charmed nearly every being in existence, he did understand consent, and took every no at face value, stopping when asked. Of course, it's a rejection, so at the beginning you had to explain that no, you're not rejecting him as a person, you like him plenty fine as a person, you just don't always want to be flirted with.

He still did it, but when you asked him to stop he'd make a show of whining about it, but stopping nonetheless. It was annoying, but he did take your 'no' seriously, so in the end it was kind of worth it. Asmo was good for conversation, and he knew all the gossip, so he was nice to hang out with.

You had mentioned a handful of times that he reminded you of someone where you were from where you used to live. But all he ever said in response was that there was no one like him. Which is true, as no one else could truly embody Lust like Asmodeus does.

He was doing a skincare night with you, when you brought it up again.

"You know a lot about skincare already, it's quite impressive." He complimented.

"Yeah, had a friend who took it very seriously." You agreed.

"Is this the same friend that I remind you of?"

"Tis." You smiled, gently rubbing the moisturizer onto his face. "He was an interesting man."

"Interesting man? Interesting how?"

"He was insanely hard working, yet it seemed no one saw that." You started, taking a deep breath. "He was an actor, and social media influencer. And he was talented. Extremely talented. He worked hard to get where he was, but he had the means to get there."

"Anything else I should know about this person?"

"Well, he was good at potions. And like, just as good if not better than Satan and Solomon, good. He had the harshest study routine, but it was worth it. Never failed a potions class if he was tutoring me. He didn't have much time to do so, but I was always grateful when he did." You thought back on the memories fondly, smiling, as you stopped rubbing the moisturizer into his skin, and moving onto the next step. "His methods were.... intense, to say the least." Your smile became strained, remembering the VDC. "But, they got the results he wanted, so I guess he didn't see much issue with it."

"Intense in what way?" Asmo asked, noting your tenseness.

"I was appointed manager for a dance team, an interschool competition thing, you know how competitive people can get." You shook your head lightly. "They all came to live in my dorm because it was mostly empty. But, despite me being manager, he decided I needed to follow the same diet as everyone else. My friends said it was a 'we're all in this together' thing, but I thought he was just being unreasonable. I mean, come on, hexing my food? That's just wasteful. And he didn't even pay me back. I didn't get much money for food in general, because I was the magicless student, and there he went, just wasting what I had." You laughed mirthfully, remembering your anger at the situation, and your frustration.

"Well, in his defense, if he was just looking out for you."

"I would have no problems if that were the case, Azzy." You slightly chastised, but it was playful, and held no real bite. "I took your diet in stride, didn't I?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've been fine with it, if that were the case. But he never paid me back for the food that he hexed, or replaced it. I didn't have much, so no one being able to eat those foods, it was wasteful. I mean, it's not like I got much money, if any, from the school for dorm food, like every other dorm."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I was the magicless student. The errand person. The pushover. The unpaid therapist or headmaster. Depends on the day." You sighed. "The headmaster didn't want to have to rewrite the budget to factor in an extra dorm, when it only had two students in it, that really only amounted to one student."

"Wait, I thought you've mentioned before that you had a roommate."

"I lived with a fire-breathing, flying, talking cat named Grim, who could use magic, and several ghosts. I say technically one student, because the ghosts were faculty members, technically, but Grim had magic, and I didn't, but I was human and Grim was a cat. So, when I popped out of the woodwork, with no magic, no identification, no way to go home, and no clue about how this world worked, the headmaster was 'oh so gracious'," you mocked, "and put us both in a run down dorm, enrolled as a single student."

"Run down?"

"I mean Run Down. It was called Ramshackle, by other students, and it certainly lived up to it's name. The heater didn't work, I had to curl up with Grimm under every blanket I could find in that house. It was caked in mold and mildew, and dust, until Crowley cleaned it for the VDC. I injured myself more than once." You pointed to a scar on your forearm, where you'd hurt yourself in an attempt to fix up your dorm. "I am, honestly, very grateful, for the opportunity to stay here, in much better conditions. I do miss my friends, and I miss Grim." You admitted.

"Is that why you named that stuffed animal Grim? I thought you were just taking after Mammon in your greed."

"I miss Grim." You stated simply. "He was always with me. We were inseparable. We fought, we bickered, but at the end of the day, I knew if there was one thing, one being, I could rely on consistently, it was Grim. He was my ride-or-die. I named my stuffed animal after him, because I have a hard time sleeping without him. Even just, relaxing, can be hard. I miss him, and I don't know if he's ok. I genuinely, worry about him. And I miss him so much, that it's hard to fully put into words."

"I'm sorry." He offered, and you just smiled at him.

There was not much more Asmodeus could say. He couldn't provide you the comfort that you craved, as he was not your cat, nor could he get you your cat. So, he extended his sympathies, and access to his bed whenever you would like. For cuddles, or for more, he was always down for whatever.

He only hoped that his efforts to be there, and open for you, helped to heal you a little bit in the long run.

Satan:

Satan was nice to be around. He was curious, and he liked to know things and ask questions, so he did tend to pry into your past. But he was always good for book recommendations, and was always happy to discuss any book you wanted.

You found comfort in his fondness for cats, finding a kindred spirit in that regard. You didn't tell him about Grim, not wanting to get his hopes up about maybe meeting your beloved companion. He did notice your love of cats though, and had gotten you a giant cat plushie, as a gift.

You had named it Grim, and it lived on your bed. It was much quieter, and honestly, a bit boring compared to the real thing, but it was good for cuddling in the night when you couldn't sleep because you missed your furry friend. You were grateful that Satan had brought you just a bit of comfort in those moments, even if he didn't know it.

"I had a cat." You started one day when he started reading off cat facts enthusiastically after you had expressed the slightest bit of interest. "He was a rather interesting thing."

"Really? What was he like?" Satan liked to hear you talk about your past in general, but he was especially excited to hear about your cat.

"His name was Grim. And he was big, like 2 feet tall. He had a very distinct look about him. Grey fur, with a white chest," Satan nodded, listening intently, "bright, big, blue eyes. So round they almost looked scary sometimes. His ears, they had blue fire coming out of them, and his tail was shaped like a pitchfork. And he could use magic! He could breathe fire, and fly, effortlessly. He could talk too. Used to talk my ear off." You smiled fondly, happy to be able to talk about your favorite creature. "He'd call me Henchman, or Hench Human. He was a trouble maker. Mammon reminds me of him that way."

"Oh." Satan almost groaned.

"But much like Mammon, at the end of the day, push comes to shove, you can rely on him. That was one of the few things I knew for certain back then. Grim was the only one I could fully rely on. I had other friends, but Grim and I, we were inseparable. He was my best friend. He used to sleep in my bed with me, every night. I'm so used to it, it's honestly.... kind of hard to sleep without him." You admitted, laughing tiredly. "I miss Grim."

"Were you allowed pets, or familiars, at your last school?"

"No. No, I don't think we were." You answered after a moment of thought. "But Grim was a special case. He and I crashed the entrance ceremony. I wasn't supposed to be there, and got yoinked out of another world, but he was just straight up trespassing because he wanted so badly to go to that school, and become a great mage." You laughed at the memory. "He committed arson, I helped calm him down, and the rest is history. We weren't students, originally. We were janitors. The Headmaster only let us stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I proved that Grim could be helpful."

"I thought you said you were a student?"

"I was. Half. I was half of a student." You smiled, taking a tired, yet fond, sigh. "I didn't have magic. But Grim did. So, Crowley determined that we would each be half of a student. He got us both into so much trouble, but he always helped me get out of it. I could always rely on Grim. Except in schoolwork," you admitted, laughing a little, "I was alone in that portion."

A million questions ran through his head, and you could tell the gears were turning. It was almost amusing, seeing him trying to decide on what topic to pick. Should he keep going about your cat? Pry about your headmaster? Ask about your clearly troubled past at this school?

He was quiet, but it wasn't tense, or awkward, just comfortable silence, as you patiently awaited his next question. You knew Satan would choose his words carefully, so as to not make you uncomfortable, so you had no fears. You really didn't want him to ask about Grim's homework habits though. Satan prioritized intelligence, and knowledge. You wanted him to have a good impression of Grim, since you thought the two would get along, despite Grim being similar to his older brother, Mammon.

It took him a few moments, you, peacefully sipping your favorite hot drink, as you waited patiently, reading your book, before he finally picked a topic.

"Was your headmaster, truly that bad?" He asked softly.

"His favorite trick to get me to do what he wanted, when I didn't want to, was to threaten me. My food budget, my housing budget, or even my security at the school. I had others I could rely on, should this happen. The other Housewardens tended to take pity on me when I would show up, practically begging for food, because Crowley wouldn't allow me to have any. They were good people. But I always made sure Grim had stuff to eat. I never let him suffer. He actually learned to share through this. But, a diet of tuna sandwiches, just isn't that good for your health. It was better than nothing though." You shrugged, not looking up from your book. You looked up, to see him looking at you, sadness painting his eyes. "I'm doing better now, Satan." You smiled.

"I don't want to pry, but I do have more questions." You took a deep breath.

"Can I answer them later?" You asked, to which he nodded.

"Take your time."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you look through your books, to see if there's a spell, or an incantation, or a potion, or a ritual, that will help me get Grim? I'm worried about him, and, as you can see," you gestured to your eyebags, which Asmo had tried to hide using makeup, but it was late, so they were started to peek through, "being without him takes a toll. He's like my emotional support cat, you know? My sassy, lazy, loud, annoying, emotional support cat, that I love. And I miss."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded. "No promises, but I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask." You smiled tiredly.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub had eaten the majority of the fridge again, and it was your turn to make dinner. You sighed, as he looked at you guiltily. It was getting too close to when you absolutely needed to start cooking so you could serve dinner on time, so you couldn't go shopping for more. You just shook your head, and got to work taking everything out of the fridge and pantry, just to see what was left.

"I'm sorry." Beel offered. "I'll help you cook."

"I've done more with less." You said, not registering his offer, and looking over the ingredients that were left, as you had caught him before he could eat everything. "I just need some time."

"I didn't leave you much. I could go to the store, and get some more." He offered.

"Beel," You looked at him, smiling in amusement. "How much of what you get me would you eat on the way home?" He looked down guiltily once more. "I'm not mad," you assured, "really, I'm not. And I appreciate your offer of help. But I've got this." You smiled once more, before turning back to the ingredients, and picking up a few.

With what little you had, you'd started to make a large delicious meal. Beelzebub watched, in what could only be described as awe, as you stretched what you had into enough to feed the brothers, and something that tasted good. He still felt guilty about eating the majority of what you could've used to make dinner, but he was grateful you weren't mad, and he was curious as to how you knew how to make so little go so far.

After you served the brothers, you kept a little for yourself, and Beelzebub noticed. He noticed that you didn't take much, and when he tried to comment on it, you just winked at him, smiling. After dinner, he was designated for clean up, and you went into the kitchen to keep him company, as he had while you were cooking.

"How did you do that? There wasn't much left, but that was a good meal."

"My last school.... I didn't have much." You started vaguely. "My food budget was small, and often taken away, so I would take what little I was able to beg or barter for from the shop keeper, or the other Housewardens, or my friends, and I'd make it stretch. It helped that they often had some leftovers, especially Scarabia, with their feasts every week. And Jamil was a fabulous cook." You complimented, your mouth watering at the thought of his delicious and carefully prepared food. "But I digress. What I'd do is, I'd prepare meals in advance, as many as I could. I had to. Starvation sounded rather unpleasant, to me."

"It was that bad?"

"Not if I planned correctly." You smiled.

Beelzebub related to the feeling of hunger, and starvation. He was often brushed aside as always hungry because he's the Avatar of Gluttony. But the pain was always there, and it was hard to describe the pain aside from, hungry. You were always patient with him, even if he got grumpy because of his hunger, and now he was starting to see why.

If you understood the feeling of being hungry all the time, and starving to a painful point, it makes sense that you'd not get mad at him. It makes sense to him, that you'd be patient with him. He had always appreciated your patience and kindness, but he had never questioned it. Now he was starting to think he should've.

"Was it just you?"

"No. I had a cat with me. His name was Grim, and he was a lot like Mammon." You described cheerfully. "He mostly ate cans of tuna, which I could get for cheap at the school shop, they weren't super popular, and students tended to leave them at the shop after realizing they were the cheapest option of food I had." You laughed awkwardly. "It was a school of ruffians, and bullies, and people who hated me. But they had the decency to not want me to starve to death."

"You were hated?"

"By some. I wasn't popular, but I had my fair share of friends, don't worry." You assured. "I had the first years friend group, and the Housewardens, and the vice-housewardens and honorary vicehousewardens. Even a lot of the teachers liked me. And even if they didn't, I still had Grim. He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"He's still there, so he still is. We're just not together right now. It's like... it's like a part of me is missing, because he's my best friend." You tried. "And he's still there, but I can't see him, and I can't talk to him. I miss him, a lot. I think you'd like him." You smiled. "He used to sleep on my bed, every night. And he'd complain, and whine, and get both of us into trouble, but he was loyal to a fault, and he was always there when I needed him."

"Was your old headmaster that bad?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded enthusiastically. "He went on vacation so often, and it was more like I was the headmaster towards the end of my time there. What with the amount of paperwork and such I was handling in his stead. On top of schoolwork! And he put me in an old decrepit house, with a fire breathing cat. Granted, I asked for the cat to remain with me, but still. I'm sure he could've found somewhere else to put me."

"That sounds awful."

"It could be. But hey, think of it this way, now I'm prepared if you do this again." You teased. He nodded. "Don't feel too bad, Beel. You didn't even know I existed, you couldn't have done anything."

"I wish you would've told us."

"It's not easy to talk about." You admitted. "It's not like... I had the best experience with a lot of people there. I mean, Overblots, burnout, hunger, on top of basically being an unpaid therapist, an unpaid headmaster, and a full-time student? I was busy, and not every experience is a pleasant one. But it's a part of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. Because it was my experience." You explained. He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd like the people I met before. So many good cooks. And Lilia, who is on par with Solomon." You shuddered. "But there was also so many athletics clubs. I bet you'd really like Spelldrive." You smiled.

"Spelldrive?"

"Yeah!"

As you launched into an in-depth explanation of the sport, at least as you understood it, he simply watched. He was glad you'd opened up to him, and to hear that you weren't always alone. He would probably ask Satan if he could find anything about getting your cat for you. But for now, he was just happy to see you being comfortable enough to talk about your past.

Belphegor:

Belphegor liked to visit your dreams whenever you'd let him. They were always so interesting. They almost matched you, in that regard. As you were so strange in his eyes. He was very lucky, able to explore your good dreams. Dreams that told of friends, and adventure. Light hardship, sure, but mostly wonder. And happiness. Along with a cat that seemed to pop up in every dream. He didn't know that he only saw this because he didn't always tune into your dreams. Not every dream is a happy one.

It was one day, when you happened to be taking a nap in his general vicinity, that he drifted off, and entered your dream. He prepared himself for the bright light of the outside of Night Raven College, and for the happy smiling faces, or the sound of laughter, as he usually saw when he joined your in your dreams. What he wasn't expecting, was the fire. The screaming, the fear. He was prepared to watch on happily as you got to see your friends, the people you consider family, in your dreams, but instead, he only saw your terror.

He couldn't look away as you looked on in terror as eight towering figures, covering in black ink, with massive ink monsters behind them cornered you. He recognized some of these faces, they were those of your friends. They were friends, friends who would drive you to work harder, and do better, but would always be there to help in any way they could, if they could, when you asked.

But there was one face he was shocked to see, moreso than the friends. It was your cat. Your cat that had been changed into a hulking, massive beast, and it looked more wild than he had ever seen. It wasn't talking anymore, none of those smart ass comments he'd overhear, it was growling at you, roaring at you. It had never done that before.

Belphegor, unable to stand by as you feared for your life, even in a dream, quickly made his way to in front of you, his back to you.

"You need to wake up."

You heard him, but his voice was muddled in your panic, it sounded like he was under water. You looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wake! UP!" He commanded.

You shot up, gasping for air, as you woke up. Belphegor followed not long after, making his way over, and sitting beside you, as you began to calm down from such a panic-inducing dream. He sat beside you until your breathing was under control, and you weren't shaking as much anymore.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, and feeling embarrassed. It wasn't often that you had these nightmares, but they were always intense and unpleasant when you did. You didn't think he knew, he'd never visited those dreams. It's not as though you were actively hiding it, you'd told him that you'd had nightmares before, but you were ashamed that he had seen them firsthand.

You both just sat in silence for several moments, before he spoke first.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, softly.

"They don't know about the nightmares. I mean, my closer friends do, but those who the nightmares are about, don't. They don't need that."

"Why are they in your nightmares? And why did they look like that?"

"They lost control of their emotions, and their magic overwhelmed them. They weren't in control, when they looked like that. That was their anger, and sadness, their pain, that was in control of them, with their magic creating the ink monsters behind them." You explained, quietly. "I don't blame them, no one can be expected to hold it together for so long, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

"And your cat?"

"I don't know why I have nightmares about him like that." You admitted. "I think it's because I miss him, and I'm scared of what will happen to him without me there."

"How long have you had these nightmares?"

"They started after the first Overblot, that's what they're called," you explained simply, "but they only got worse as more Overblots happened."

"Was there no one you could go to?" You shook your head.

"I couldn't go to Crowley, he was useless," you laughed humorlessly, "the teachers were nice, but they couldn't do anything. I told my friends, and they tried their best, but nothing ever really helped. Grim used to sleep on my bed with me, and that would chase the nightmares away pretty well, but," you trailed off.

"You don't have him with you now, so the nightmares are back with a vengeance?" You nodded, smiling a little at his wording. He wrapped an arm around you. "Do you miss him?"

"I do."

He knew you did, he knew that was a redundant question. But he wanted to hear it from you, as a sort of confirmation. He felt bad that you missed your cat, and he wished he could do something about it, but he knew he couldn't. So you two just sat in silence, comforted by the warmth of the room, and the calm atmosphere around the two of you.

He had always wondered why, or even how, you'd taken his actions in stride. How you'd forgiven him so easily. He knew now, that it was just in your nature after having gone through so much at your last school. He decided in that moment that he'd make an effort to be the person to hold a grudge on your behalf, to let people know that you may have forgiven them, but he certainly hasn't, and he hasn't forgotten what they've done to you. He didn't voice this, but he knew that you knew how he felt.

But for now, you two just sat there, comfortable, and warm. He wanted to apologize, and say he'd do everything in his power to get you your cat, but he didn't want to say that without a guarantee that he could do it. So there you sat, close, and comfortable.

"I'll chase your nightmares away." He offered, just barely a whisper, yet because of your proximity, you heard it.

"Thanks Belphie." You smiled tiredly, happy to hear that he would protect your dreams.

You drifted off not long after, Belphie following close behind. But he kept his word, and your nightmares didn't plague you after that, whenever Belphie could help it.

[xoxo-surfergirl]

the lady, the prince, & the sword

[in honor of spooky season]

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

abstract: over one hundred years after the dance, you grow up as a lady in the ruins of Harrenhal. One day, you get a little too curious about the prince and his dragon rumored to be rotting at the bottom of the lake, and awaken something beyond your understanding. 🕯️this fic is inspired by a post from @sapphirevhagar 🕯️ themes: spooky harrenhal, smut, ghost/undead aemond, aemond as a war criminal, forbidden romance if you squint, you are the lady of harrenhal, dark aemond (but like, he's a dark character so I just tried to stay true to who he is), piv & hand stuff

lucy's notes: ao3 link. I tried to make my characterization of aemond as true as I could, but I won't lie it was hard in this scenario!! I don't think he'd be the type to just fuck someone (but maybe he would...who knows), but for the purposes of this spooky halloween fic I tried to make it as realistic as I could. maybe he would if he was pussy starved for a century, so that's what I'm going for. ENJOY!

word count: 8.6k

The sun had struck its highest point in the sky, your very own guiding star to the lake below it. 

From this bluff above God’s Eye, you could see all of what you called home: a boundless land, resilient despite centuries of war that had left each tree as a tombstone watered with spilled blood. And yet, the land was more alive because of it, or perhaps despite it. You weren’t sure which, but you knew just as well as any other riverman that if you listened close enough, you could feel the breath of the land under your feet. 

The rolling evergreens murmured when the winds ran through their branches. Winter was coming, and soon the jeweled blue of God’s Eye would coalesce into bitter sheets of ice. But for now, the first light gusts coaxed the water’s surface into gentle catspaws, still forgiving enough on your skin to welcome you into the lake. There was no barrier between your toes and the grass. Your daily swims were the one time you went without boots, an activity of yours that the Lord of Harrenhal detested. Mud is unbecoming of a lady , your father would say. It was, but so was walking in squelching boots back to your chambers. 

The faint line of sand at your favorite lakeside spot had finally breached your toes. It was better than all of the rest. Much of the lake had no such comfortable entry as this: a large swath of sand perfectly divoted for entry. Silence was a familiar friend here. It was a true silence, unlike the faint drips and echoes that seeped through your walls. 

And so the last thing you were expecting was company. “And what finds my Lady at this cursed corner of God’s Eye?” 

“My good Patrek, I did not expect to see you here.” Hiding your fright was easier said than done. An old family friend of the less noble type, with a face worn by time and a voice weathered by wind. Onlookers were rare here, and you wondered if he had followed you all the way from the keep. 

“You should not be here, my Lady. You know the stories, educated as you are.” 

You did—of how the very burrows of sand that now welcomed your toes were dug by Daemon Targaryen’s dragon Caraxes in a death-crawl to shore after his rider and opponent had perished. Every riverman knew of the tale. 

“I swim here often. If there is a curse, I hope I have been spared it.” Brushing off a stubborn elder was something you were quite familiar with. 

“Then you know the dragon’s blood soaked into the soil, dying where you stand. The very ground you walk on is damned.” His voice gruffed against his throat, but there was no mistaking the concern there. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in the power of such things—as a Lady of Harrenhal you knew very well from your own accord how often things are not always what they seemed. But even some tales were too far-fetched for your own belief.

 Besides, if you heeded every tale and story from your surrounding men, you’d hardly be able to leave your chambers. 

Telling an old riverman what to do was not a task you’d expected to find yourself involved in at this hour. The look in your eye did more talking than your words. “I appreciate your concern, Patrek. But I insist, I am more than alright.” 

With one last stare, he dismissed himself. Thank the gods. 

In front of you, fragile blades of grass dared to peek through the large sand trough. It was a perfect pathway to the water, gently sloping and kinder on your feet than the rocky mud surrounding the rest of the lake was. If this truly was Caraxes’ doing, he had carved such a fine entrance to the water. It had never regrown. Barren, unlike the greater parts of the rest of the lake—perhaps the agony of such a creature reshaping the dirt with its claws, belly dragging and wingless on one side, had scarred the land permanently. You could see it. 

The water lapped at your toes now. Dragons were a far away concept, from a land and world that no longer existed, yet you wondered if their deaths really were something so traitorous to the gods that the land could never fully be right again. 

Stepping further and further inside, the light billow of your dress danced in the water. There were times, like a moonlit night, where you would forgo your dress and let the lake feel you bare. Those moments were rare, and ladies hardly had enough privacy and virtue to spare to allow such brazen activities—but you indulged in them when the moon called. With a final push of your toes, you dove your hands ahead of you and released. For a second, you were flying, letting the water carry you before you pushed against it once more. Smiling came easy here. 

And yet Patrek’s words lingered. None of the information was new. Perhaps it was the graveness of his voice that haunted you. 

Words could melt in the water, and his were no exception. The water held you as your mother might have, or a lover—all over, bringing you a comfort you could find nowhere else. You ran your fingers and toes in the sand below you, feeling it sift in the weightlessness between them. 

The sun had sunk low in the sky when you emerged from the lake, mind and body calm in your daily ritual. 

A new day had brought with it new curiosities—it would be easier to say that getting the tales out of your head was a simple task, but over the course of the previous day, it had proved much more difficult than you’d hoped. 

Sleep had evaded you, and restlessness drew you to the library. Each book was half rotted away from moisture that settled between each page and binding stitch. The candle light in your hand fought a losing battle with the mist, surrendering to a low bruising blue. Even still, you had found what you came there for. 

It was readable despite the poor lighting.  Dragons in the Riverlands were a sore subject—it was not a surprise to find that many, if not all of the manuscripts on dragons were loathsome at best, and near traitorous to your Targaryen overlords at worst. 

Prince Daemon Targaryen and his dragon Caraxes dueled Prince Aemond Targaryen and his dragon Vhagar on the 22nd day of the 5th moon of 130 AC. Dragon shrieks rippled in the wind and dragonfire flamed into the sunset so bright that the sky itself was said to be alight. Prince Daemon is said to have leapt onto Vhagar, plunging the ancestral Targaryen Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister through his nephew’s good eye. Caraxes is believed to have crawled to shore before releasing a dying shriek. Prince Daemon, Prince Aemond and Vhagar’s bones are believed to remain at the bottom of the lake today. 

Portraits of the two men and their dragons had accompanied the passage, with sketches of the battle gathered from the artists and bards surrounding God’s Eye. Long platinum hair framed both men, though Daemon lacked Aemond’s youth and sapphire eye.

  What a peculiar thing, a sapphire eye. Imagining a dragon as large as Vhagar sunk deep beneath your nose was a strange thing, fitting for a strange man with a sapphire in his socket. Trying to imagine a creature, let alone a dragon as big as her, was incomprehensible. If she really was the size of a small keep, how could one command her? 

Aemond Targaryen had—and perhaps that made him one of the most god-like Targaryens of all Targaryens to exist. And now he was damned to spend his eternity bound to the dark blue dungeon that was the depths of God’s Eye. 

Your toes had found the water’s edge once again, among the supposed cursed grounds of Caraxes last breathing place. If one dragon’s death made the land cursed, then surely the death of two doubled it. 

Today was a different venture than you were used to. The sun was even more forgiving than usual, warming your skin before you ever touched the water. It was a compulsion that drew your limbs to swim further from shore, an unexplainable magnetic lord that your limbs gladly obliged. With a hefty suck of air, you submerged your head. The chamber of echoing silence took its hold of your ears as you sank deeper and with a blink, you opened your eyes. The sun rays refracted in planes off of the water’s surface, down to the awaiting bottom. Only on the most clear days were you able to see this far, and yet it still wasn’t far enough to reach its furthest depths. 

Arms and legs tugged on the water. You sank deeper, your hair and dress haloing your floating figure. Long tendrils of curly pondweed and brittle water nymph followed the soft current rippling through the lake. You could feel its light pull, but your limbs were much stronger than the fragile plants that lay there. Swimming forward into deeper territory, large rocks begin to take shape, with their own water thread and algae sprouting from aged cracks. 

It was so faint, you almost missed it. A sparkle or two in the darkness, a trap of sunlight where sunlight didn’t belong anymore, just out of your sight. Another pull of your arms and you were closer: close enough to almost see what could create such a glimmer. Your lungs were calling but you just needed to get one more look—

Despite the near fade to darkness, the shape was unmistakable: a silver pommel, jutting out from beyond the deep. The dragon wings at the hilt were frozen in flight. Realization laid its heavy hand upon your chest and the call of your lungs became too loud to ignore. Frantically swimming to the surface, the bubbles spilled from your lips as the water became warmer as the sun drew closer. Your rift of the surface was punctuated by the loud gasp of your aching chest. Save for your weak disruption, the top of the lake sat as tranquil and undisturbed as you had left it. 

If it’s what you thought it was—

A few more deep breaths later and you were down below the surface once again, heart thrumming with revelation. This time, you knew exactly how deep you needed to go. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, but the glint was visible even near the surface. It was a distant sparkle in the underworld, as if it was capturing the blue essence of God’s Eye itself. Blood pumped through your ears in the chamber of the deep as your arms tugged, stomach threatening to turn despite your precious conservation of air. 

A sapphire and a sword, each a shining beacon of their own. The skull which held both tilted up towards the heavens. Beyond it, skeletal arms reached forward, nearly upward. Part of you knew that the same buoyancy which allowed you to float was the same that held him, but another part of you wondered if at the time of the prince’s death he was reaching towards the sky in hopeless defiance. His once royal leathers and armor were rusted and torn, ebbing like the eel grass that had taken root. Time submitted all to its will, even princes, leaving only rot behind. 

The incomprehensible became comprehensible with one look downwards: crumpled and black, you realized it was not depth, but dragon bones themselves that seemed to create the darkness of the water that surrounded him. Thick spires of obsidian bone curled around what you could only put together as a rib cage the size of a small keep. Her skull was far from her body, large eye sockets gaping and maw stretched with rows of dagger teeth. The very maw that was the last sight of many in the Riverlands. 

If you wanted to reach the surface, you needed to swim now. But for a few more moments, the urge to swim just a bit further was greater than your want for air. You don’t know what possessed you—it could have been the lack of oxygen, or that you were just fond of shiny things on occasion, but you reached for the bright pommel that was nearly offering itself out to you and pulled. The blade was heavier than you were anticipating, as much of a novice as you were, but you persisted. Drawing your arms tight into your chest and using your whole body to swim against it, you did your best to wrack it free from its hold in the prince’s skull. It felt almost wrong to pull so hard, but you persisted. Bubbles jutted from your mouth in the struggle until it wracked free. 

It was now the second time you surfaced, and your gasp was much louder than the last. The sword was heavy in your arms, wanting to drag you back down to the bottom with it and join the prince and his dragon. There was no particular reason for taking it—it was a beautiful thing, untouched by the same rot and ruin as the prince and his dragon below. A sneaky voice in your head reminded you that a relic like this could pay to fill Harrenhal’s coffers for half the year or more if returned to the Targaryens, yet that is not why you sought it. 

In fact, you weren’t sure you wanted anyone to know what you had taken, and made quick work to wrap it in your swimming dress on your way back to the castle. A large object wrapped in cloth was not subtle, but the impossibility of manning such a monstrosity of a castle worked in your favor. Taking careful steps and hiding in the many alcoves to weave your way back to your chambers without spectacle proved a successful effort. 

The afternoon had come and gone with little affair, besides a light dusting of rain. It rained at Harrenhal often. And often, you found it peaceful. The rain was a part of life, and the wetness with it. 

But as the late afternoon carried on to evening, it became no such rain. The sky had darkened hours before sundown, bright colors and pretty horizons forgotten behind the undulating turmoil above you. The thunder went beyond simple sounds to full-bodied vibrations, shaking you from the bottom of your feet through your ears. It was not a storm, but a wroth sky. You were certain that no castle for hundreds of miles was spared. 

The buckets meant to catch runaway leaks in the stones were overflowing from the violent rain. Wind raided every crevice it could weave through, whistling just to force itself through. Servants and your family alike had begun sheltering the most fragile of belongings: books, letters, artifacts, and wood sensitive to rot. The torches fought against the wind, a harsh back-and-forth that flickered all light around you into senselessness. 

Retiring early tended to suit you better in many storms, though you doubted you would be getting any meaningful sleep. Earlier, you had unfurled Dark Sister. A small bead of blood on your finger taught you that valyrian steel was as sharp as they say it is. The sword rested against your desk, tall and lethal, catching every strike of lightning as it came down through your window. 

Between each bout of thunder and battering of lightning, you managed to find moments of rest. Each time a strike would come down threatening to tear down the walls, you sat up, clutching your down quilt in your hands. And each time, Dark Sister was glinting in the corner, winged hilt spread like a pouncing bird of prey. 

And yet the greatest of your fears lay not with the presence of the ancestral Targaryen sword, but came in your winks of sleep: a figure, tall and eerie, in the corner of your chambers. Each time you had awoken, your eyes flashed across your room, fearing that you would find a creature of the night standing there. 

Luckily, it seemed the shadow had made its home in your head and not your chambers. When daybreak began to glow behind the clouds, your relief came with it. 

This day was much the same as the last, yet there were fewer and fewer channels for excess water to pour away from the hearths. There would be no swimming today, that much was certain; making the walk down to the lake alone would be enough to sink you into mud, never to be seen again. All were set to help the effort to keep what was able to be kept dry, lady or servant. 

“An omen, I fear,” said Mathilda, a favored handmaiden of yours, as she threw another bucket of water through the open window to the yard below. 

“An omen of what?” 

“Harrenhal hasn’t seen a storm like this in over a decade. It went against all folk predictions.” she breathed worriedly,  “A bad omen. Something isn’t right.” 

You had tucked the sword under your bed about halfway through the night when you realized that looking at it only made your stomach churn. There it lay still and waiting, inches from your two pairs of feet. 

But there was nothing you could do about it at this very moment. “Is there anything to do to protect against a bad omen?” 

“It depends on what’s happened. But for most of my knowledge, I am afraid not. The damage has already been done.” 

The pit in your stomach stirred. In the same evening, the thunder was just as fierce and lightning just as fiery. Regret compounded with every shake of thunder for the stolen sword. It was better left under the lake where it belonged—you knew that now. 

Purple cracked the sky in two from your chamber window, illuminating everything once more. Folktale or omen, bad tidings or tall whispers, on the morrow you would return it. 

And yet that was exactly what didn’t happen. 

Instead, it had happened like this: servants had been rushing around the keep all morning, doing their best to keep the rush of water from entering the hall of a hundred hearths and touching the rugs. Half soaked and boots trailing water already, you didn’t make it past the tower of dread before the guards crossed their swords and insisted that you shall not pass. Too much water could sweep you off your feet and carry you away, they had said, pushing you back to your chambers while you discreetly held a covered Dark Sister to your side. 

Tomorrow it was, then. Insistence would get you nowhere. A lady’s requests were either dutifully followed or carelessly ignored. It was imperative that the torrent stopped, or that you were able to more discreetly make your way to the lake. 

The sword could not be by your side any longer. Perhaps you could leak your secret to septa Scully—you knew her folkwoman heart still beat inside her somewhere, and it could drive her to help you. 

This night was no different from the last. Harrenhal and its eerie passageways and mangey essence had managed to frighten you as a girl, the darkest storms holding your fear hostage. It had been years since you had faced the same fear that licked at your erratic heart as it did now, tucked under your quilted down, thunder wracking itself outside. 

It was in your head—the uncontrolled storm, the tales in your ear—they had simply wormed their way deep in your mind. It was a weak consolation, but your heart finally began its slowing. 

A footstep in the darkness, outside your chambers, was enough to jolt it right back. 

Any sense of sleep had left you now, and all of your focus rushed to your ears. Digging yourself deeper in the covers, you exhaled as quietly as you could in wait. 

Just as you feared, there was another, and then another. 

No matter how hard your forced your eyes shut, the fright remained, each boot knocking on the stone outside, coming closer, and closer, until, 

The door creaked open softly, a rumble of storm to accompany it. Each finger, limb, and blink was frozen over. If you were still enough, perhaps whoever had opened the door would leave you behind. Each of your heart beats felt so loud it would give away your very existence. 

The cold voice that met you instead was nearly enough to get your heart to stop beating all together. “You have something of mine.” 

You dared not move, not even at the direct notice of your presence. 

Squelching wet footsteps punctuated in between his words, each one slowly creeping closer to your bedside. “I know you’re here, little lady of Harrenhal. No amount of stillness in the world would hide you from me.” 

With a swallow of fear, you scurried off of your bed to your night side table, hoping to distance yourself from the intruder. Sitting or laying felt too vulnerable for you to stay put. 

“I don’t understand.” Were the only words you managed to choke out to the shadowed figure in front of you. There was no weapon for you to reach, unless you reached under the bed and grabbed—

“How do you not know? You took it from me.” 

He lowered the hood of his cape. Platinum hair spilled down his shoulders over the black leather of his doublet that shined as if made from metal itself. His skin was pale as a soft moon, and a sapphire eye with a dash through his face—it was almost holy in nature, the beam of a celestial spell. Any thoughts of a common thief or crook left your mind. Even still, it did almost nothing to alleviate your fear, for you had recognized him. 

The pages in your books didn’t do him justice. Any gasp that may or may not have left your lips was drowned out by a whip of lightning.  “H-how?” 

“Give me back my sword.” He answered plainly. 

Shaky hands reached under the bed, eyes locked onto his fierce gaze as you gingerly felt for the hilt. Once in your grasp, you dragged it out, the weight even heavier in your arms than it had when you had pulled it to the surface. Your arm, lightly shaking, extended to his, the pommel and blade gleaming menacingly. His own palm lay over yours to reclaim the hilt. It was made of flesh, and warm—a mystery that evaded you. 

You figured he might strap the sword to whatever sheath was on his side and go back to wherever he had come from, but instead, he set it aside. In yet another movement of unpredictability, he stepped closer. 

“You must dive again and put it back yourself, I cannot do it for you.” His flesh eye studied you carefully, stepping forward to circle you. “But, you have given me reason to finally meet you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve had no one but you to keep me company for one hundred years” Now, he was at a distance where there was more familiarity and the details of his face became more prominent out of the shadows. “You swim in the lake almost every day.” 

You watched him attentively, attempting to understand what it was you were seeing. The fear of the unknown and absurd frightened you. It could be another dream, just like the one you had last night—but you were certain you were awake. 

He stepped even closer, daring to reach out his hand and brush it over your cheek, as if feeling the lifeblood that beat beneath it. “Who are you, one that swims in God’s Eye?” 

“I am a lady of Harrenhal” you paused, still trying to gauge his danger with your disbelief. “Who are you?” 

“You know who I am.” His sapphire was a burning blue ember in the night. 

Denial reared its unforgiving head into yours. Backing away, you tried to reason with yourself. “It’s a trick. Harrenhal plays tricks—I know this.” 

“I assure you, I am no illusion. Stop fighting it.” 

“I—” You let it sit for a moment. He stood in front of you, tall and enshadowed even in the faint candlelight. 

A deep exhale was all you could manage, closing your eyes in resignation. “Yes, my prince. Are you going to kill me?” 

“No, my lady. I’m not going to hurt you.” Watching the ground, you could see his black boots stepping towards you once more. “You did take my sword, but more than that, I simply wanted to meet the only one who dared swim down to me and Vhagar.” 

He tilted your chin up to meet his own eye. There was something curious there, almost soft. Aemond’s hand was so gentle it soothed your rabbit’s heart. “Now you see me, made of flesh.” 

Fear, though not absent, was no longer the only feeling that sent your blood pumping. The feeling of being wanted was something that you had coveted, yet always remained outside of your grasp. You imagined every movement of yours in the lake, how you had never been truly alone on your visits, even the ones in the deepest of summer where you shed your dress and embraced the lake with all of your bareness. 

Crafted in the image of the gods themselves or not, you knew it was impossible for every Targaryen to look the way he did; the beauty of him was something unique, you knew it. Another bolt fractured the sky outside, its flash illuminating both of you. It played a trick on your eyes, almost closing some of the distance between you with blinding light. 

“Are you scared of the storm?” Aemond loomed above you. 

“I’m of this land. Storms do not scare me.” 

“Did I frighten you?” 

He had to have known your answer, but you indulged him. “Yes, you did, my prince.” 

“You don’t need to be scared of me, my lady of God’s Eye.” He stepped closer, resting his left hand on your arm. His hair hung above your face now, a tilt of his head altering its course. “Does this frighten you?” 

You felt the soft weight of his palm, fearing breathing for the simple movement of it. “No, my prince.” With a careful pause, you continued. “My apologies for taking your sword. I didn’t know—” 

“You can repay me.” Aemond replied, his voice assured yet tender for your ears. “You have been tempting me in the lake for long enough.” 

You nodded lightly, delicately reaching out for your palm to meet his chest. There was a warmth coming from within, not cold like an undead body might be. The prince, real or not, was closer to you than any other man had ever been. He reached down, gently tugging you into a soft kiss. 

He was warm here too, and wet, much to your pleasure. Your lips opened to his own, mouths deftly sliding against one another. Aemond’s hand smoothed over your cheek, his palm nearly swallowing it whole. You moved together in a gentle sway, mouths delicately pressed together. In an act of boldness, you pressed your own body closer to his, your palm holding his side to steady yourself. 

The tempest outside your windows beat on. Your hands moved to crook in his neck. The skin there was soft like his mouth, and you wondered if the rest of him was just as welcoming. Aemond began walking forward, holding and kissing you through his guidance. Your lower back bumped against your mattress, and you broke your lips apart. 

It was perfection: the softness of this moment and the synergy of your movements against one another. 

Until it wasn’t. Perhaps it was the way the lightning had framed him, thunder dividing you two.  Within its roar came the cries of those he had forced to their knees in this very castle. The fall of wood as the huts of innocents burned to ash, Vhagar’s fire hot enough to meld armor and flesh to one. The scar he ripped across the belly of your homeland still hadn’t healed hundreds of years later, and you laid your lips on the man, or the entity of him, who had done it all. 

Your eyes must have given you away. 

“So you are frightened of me?” His subtle sultriness didn’t evade him, even in the light of the hell he had brought upon the earth. 

“You, Aemond Targaryen—reigned terror on this land,” you recoiled slightly, lifting yourself up onto your bed to inch away from him. 

He looked down, but any semblance of remorse was absent from his face. “I did. The fire that raged could be seen from the wall to Dorne.” 

History was a funny thing—something that becomes more intangible the longer it’s dead, fresh marks haunting only those who lived through it. But Aemond was tangible, here in front of you somehow. To him, did it happen yesterday or did it feel like a lifetime away?

Aemond paused, lifting his eye to meet yours, kneeling onto the floor, holding your gaze. “Let me atone for my sins then, my lady of Harrenhal.” 

Your breath hitched in your chest at the slight of his hands lifting your nightdress. 

Sitting up, you slowly pulled yourself away. “This is wrong. You’re—” 

“A monster?” 

Your lack of response was as much of an answer as anything else. 

“I am much more than that, I assure you.” You tried to pretend like the smoothing of his palm against your calf didn’t feel good. It was even harder to pretend that the man doing so wasn’t the most dashing man you’d ever seen, cursed by the gods or not. 

A lip bite was all he would get from you, uncertain of how to navigate your desire with your morality. 

“I can show you many things.” he hummed against your calf. 

You fell back onto the bed, whining lightly in frustration of the sexual kind. 

“If you only let me.” 

You closed your eyes. 

“Which would you rather do?” His princely voice was a seductor’s poison. 

“I can show you how deeply sorry I am for what I did to your home,” he said with a mocking sorrow as the featherlight warmth of his lips and tongue kissed the inside of your legs, up to the inside of your knee, and to the most sensitive skin on the inside of the meat of your thigh. Any resolve that you had was wafted away by the trace of his fingers. 

He pulled away, watching you carefully. “Or, you can show me how sorry you are for stealing my family’s sword. Which would you have it be?” 

Gods bless your ancestors. You prayed that they were not unlucky enough to bear witness to what you were about to say—the closest thing to treason you could commit. 

“I want to see your forgiveness, my prince.” You said, unsure of his next move but knowing somewhere within you that you would only indulge yourself further. 

Aemond smiled smugly. It suited him. “How about you feel it instead?” 

Hooking his fingers under your smallclothes, he rustled them off of you smoothly. You were exposed, cunt glistening and pooling wetness before him. Yes, definitely treason. 

You wondered what sins those long dead and buried beneath would have had to commit to be forced to hear your moan as one of his fingers entered your hole, ready and wanting. Aemond leaned over you, silver and knowing smile once more falling around your face. Using his thumb, he found your pearl so neatly in between your pillowy lips, touching you there lightly. 

“All wet, for me?” his smirk hung over you once more, satisfied by how quickly you dissolved under his hand. And what a joy it was to dissipate into a syrupy essence soaked mess. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asked, eye observing every rise and fall of your breasts. 

“Well—yes, but,” you whimpered, shame in your gaze. “I’ve never been touched by anyone else.” 

“A good, pretty maiden then.” He added another finger, your body sucking him in and oozing wetness in its own craving. Every brush of his thumb and curl of his digits left your mouth hanging open and eyes pleading at the man above you for more. 

Aemond could act as in control as he wanted, but you saw the embers of greed in his eye and felt his hardness at your hip. 

“I am so terribly sorry,” Aemond started in your ear, his fingers working their way inside of your honey soaked walls and thumb expertly toying with your swollen bud, “for absolutely nothing.” 

The words fell on ears too consumed by the talent of his hands to give a damn. Warmth in your belly bloomed as if he had planted the sun in there himself, your shining juices dripping the length of his palm. You had never been brought to the point of near blindness and incapacity by pleasure before, your own fingers too untrained. 

When the peak of your pleasure came, your arms wrapped around Aemond’s shoulders, moans breathy and full. Your walls throbbed and dripped around his fingers and your body flexed underneath his. Thunder was your friend, drowning out every noise that bubbled from your lips. 

Aemond Targaryen, or whatever was left of him, had been starved of a woman’s taste for over one hundred years. He savored every bead of syrupy sex that dripped from your cunt onto his hands while you panted in the final glimmers of ecstasy. 

It was difficult to help your eyelids from closing—the man had sent you to the hands of the gods and back. All you could do was savor the feel of him under your fingertips, rubbing lightly, until your sleep claimed you without your will or knowledge. 

The dawn broke and you were alone once more, nothing but disorder in your head and gleaming sword under your bed. 

Light thunder beat through the clouds, a solemn sun hidden behind them. The rain had eased a touch, but there had not been enough reprieve to make it any easier for the servants to clean up what was becoming a half-drowned castle. 

Yet the water navigating through the crack in the stones over your head took up the least amount of room in your head. It was real. You knew it was from the echoes of ease in your limbs from the pleasure he played you to. If that wasn’t evidence enough, your slippery juices coated the nestle of your thighs.  

It was wrong—you knew it. What had materialized between you and the prince was highly improper, not only as a lady, but as a lady of Harrenhal, the very castle in which he was partially responsible for the large number of roaming ghosts and of the land which he brought to ash out of his own anger. 

Aemond had said that you needed to return the sword to the God’s Eye yourself. Perhaps you had tampered with something greatly out of your knowledge, and restoration was imperative for your own good and the good of the castle. 

And yet the sword never moved from under your bed. Perhaps you had forgotten, or perhaps, you had conveniently discovered a hundred and one other tasks that needed your attention. And perhaps, the prince would come again. 

You could pray for forgiveness from the river people later. It was your own secret shame to have and to hold, for no one else’s eyes or ears. 

It was last light. Mathilda swept a dollop of water that landed on her forehead. “This storm won’t break.” 

“I was a girl the last time one like this hit.” Of all the many storms that wracked this land, few had the same unbroken rainfall and loud slaughter of thunder. 

There was apprehension and fright in her eyes. Mathilda’s movements were unnatural to anything you had seen her, to the point that it struck its own fear in you . 

“What is it, Mathilda?” 

“There’s only one storm I remember like this,” she started, worrying her hands with another bucket of water. “I didn't want to believe it yesterday. You were a girl, yes.” 

“And what of it?” 

“This land is old. A mass graveyard is what it is. Someone had tampered with something they shouldn’t have.” 

Your stomach sank, and your secret with it. “What happened?” 

“The man was never seen again. And there’s only one place around here people disappear to.” 

The lake. You remembered him, a guard in your father’s command, the storm that tore on, and his disappearance marking the end of it. Everyone had figured he got swept away in the storm, but it seemed that Mathilda, among others, believed something different. Still—there were plenty of cursed objects lying around, perhaps you had gotten a touch more lucky with your object of choosing. 

But perhaps it wasn’t such a dismissive endeavor, and you were more than a halfwit for thinking so. And yet, the night had fallen once more—leaving you with no other choice but to wait and see. 

The blade seemed to find a light of its own even in the blackness of the storm ridden night, peaking just under your bed. Finding a rhythm in between the bolts of lightning and thunder happened over time, but the past few nights had begun to give you practice. Your apprehension kept you from your sleep nonetheless. 

There was always something more beyond the surface, that much you knew was true, and life was no exception. Gods existed, you were sure of it, you just didn’t know how, or why, or where—but there was something about the thread of actions over the past handful of days that connected pieces together in a visceral way you had never fully encountered.

Through each beat of lightning, the truth of every tale that you had ever heard came into question: the cook turned white rat, forced to eat his own young; the children of the forest and the Green King of the Isle of Faces, Sharra the witch queen and her inability to die. Before now, you had not fully disbelieved, but rather doubted the ability of magic or the whims of the gods to make profound changes in an instant. 

“You did not return my sword.” 

His entrance was silent but interruption swift, or you had been so lost in your own head you failed to notice. There was little shock this time. You had been expecting him. He stood there for a moment in patience, your eyes and finding the details of his trench coat in the shadow. There was much less fright in you now than there had been at his first intrusion, and you swung your legs to sit at the edge of your bed. 

“You disobeyed my request,” Aemond said, “I do not take kindly to those who disobey me. Why didn’t you return it, my lady of God’s Eye?” 

It was a fool’s endeavor, a disregard of any consequences. Eyes wide and waiting, you could do nothing but speak your deepest truth. 

“I did not want to.” 

He crept forward, a creature of the shadows coming to enact its wrath. “Explain yourself.” 

With a swallow of the last inklings of your pride and dignity, you replied. “Because I want more of what you did to me last night.” 

He stood as a relic, everything from his hair and skin and coat shining from within, regarding you with an intensity you had never had anyone offer you before. Time existed nowhere in this room; past and present converged in the tides of thunder that swayed over your heads, and you wondered if the world outside of your door still stood or if there was nothingness. 

“Who would have thought a lady to be so lustful? A lady of the Riverlands, no less.” His boots were off now, making his way to you like an animal preys upon what it desires to snatch in its claws. 

You held your chin in an acceptance of his mockery and all that came with it. Because he was right, and because you didn’t care so long as no one knew of it. Aemond moved to stand in between your legs, and you tilted your head to meet his own eye. 

“I suppose I will make an exception to my usual punishment since you have been so honest,” he reached to hold your face in his hands as if he was holding a holy grail. “Do you promise to make such an exception worth my while?” 

“I promise.” You nodded as well as you could in his soft hold, eyes large and pleading. 

The kiss that followed was soft, just as every other first touch between you had been—but it quickly became emboldened; a drop of satisfaction in a lake of craving. His hands slid down your sides, past the sensitivity of your waist and moving to grip the full flesh that sat on your thighs. 

Chest to chest, you were pressed against him, feeling through every movement and flex of the muscle beneath his flesh. Moving once more, his hand slid down in between your thighs where your smallclothes sat pitifully between your bare skin and his fingers. 

He swallowed your whimper into his mouth as his hand moved once more to play with your bud. Skin holds memory, they say, and you knew yours did of him: his light touch was enough to have you squirming beneath him with little effort. 

“My own little harlot of the Riverlands.” Aemond pulled away, moving to untie the wrap of your nightdress. You watched him carefully, a twing of shyness slowing your movements. 

He took your timid hands into his, holding them to him as he moved his nose to meet yours. “And yet a maiden, all the same.” 

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of his tenderness. Both your hands moved now to take away what lies between your modesty and bareness. 

“Do I please you?” softly you looked at him, hoping that your shyness was replaced by your attempt to be sultry despite your lack of practice. 

He looked at you as a man starved, deprived of warm fleshy skin to sink into for a century, and there was no pretending in his eye that he hadn’t prayed that you would not return Dark Sister to its rightful place. No matter how powerful the man, beyond swords and war and life and death, the soft skin of a lover would always be a weakness. There was no hiding the membrane of vulnerability and desperation at something so human: the touch and feel of another. 

Leaning down to offer you a kiss, in a near whisper he replied, “Very much so.” 

Hands and lips tenderly felt you everywhere, the blood underneath beating against the glide of his fingers. It was worship of the most holy, or perhaps the indulgence of a sin most foul. The lines blurred and you sank under his want, whether it be worship or sin, you did not care. 

Your hands searched for him, shrugging off his own clothing in the rapture. 

“Whatever it was you did to me yesterday, please, I need to feel it again.” it was more of a breathy whisper in between kisses than an affirmative request. 

“I’ll show you something even better.” Aemond sank to your hips as his right hand did, already weaving slow strokes against your bud. And yet he sank farther, until his head rested between your thighs.

He watched you carefully from there, sliding one finger into your hole. His rubbing continued, and your legs began to weaken once more. You had swung your head to rest your eyes on your ceiling, unexpecting the hot wetness that met your bud. 

It was unlike anything you had felt before—heat on heat, wetness on wetness, his tongue skillfully lapping your clit. 

You fell under his enchantment for him like a man dies gasping underwater: slowly with resistance, until want for release pushes you to frantically search for it all at once. All thoughts of doing anything but taking everything he had to give you had been locked away, perhaps only to be seen again once you had gotten your fill. And you weren’t sure if you could ever be satisfied. 

From this point forward, you would be damned by this memory: Aemond sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking on your sex, and pulling pleasure from you as if he was born a hundred years ago to do it. 

He was determined to feel every drop of your essence sliding down his throat, holding you to him with his hands clasped around your thighs.  Your orgasm came with his lips and tongue never ceasing their worship of you, even as your thighs shook and moans echoed through your walls. 

Even though heavy breaths and dazed eyes of the afterglow, you would not make the mistake of falling asleep so soon, not after the previous night. Your hands lazily reached for him, pulling him closer to you. 

Because you wanted more . There was no clarity and rational thinking bestowed upon your release. If anything, it had driven you further into a wanting animal, a ravenous direwolf seeking to tame its taste for blood. Maiden status be damned, if doing such things with a long dead prince even counted. 

“Eager, are we?” he drawled over you, hands rustling between your bodies. “Shh. Let me take care of you.” 

You felt him on you then, skin to skin, his hard manhood heavy on your stomach. Aemond’s eye met yours as he slid his cock between your folds, gathering the wetness there. 

It was just you two in this moment, one body and another, seeking something buried deep within one another’s skin. 

Face to ear, you whispered about your inexperience and novelty. He did nothing but pull your lips into another kiss, allowing your bodies to slip against each other’s warmth for moments to come. Aemond was a desiring man, or creature—you weren’t sure which, not that it fully mattered to you anymore—and you could feel his own lust for you seeping into each of your kisses and all of his touches, much more wanton than they had yet to be. 

“Let me take you,” he nearly whined in between kisses, “I need to feel you.” 

“I want you. Show me this.” 

Forehead to forehead, Aemond reached between your bodies to guide his leaking cock to your entrance. You knew why maidens and ladies got wet—it would be impossible to carry out the deed without such slipperiness. What hung between a man’s legs was far too large to fit without it. 

Even still, it was always a challenge at first—your own sex squeezing so hard, seemingly wanting to suck his cock deeper inside you and milk it within your walls. As he went to the hilt, moaning was all you had to cope, the noises blending with the creak of the castle. 

“Does it always feel like this?” you choked, more than happy to be full of him but surprised at the feeling.

With his forehead still against yours, his breath fanned in your mouth. “At first, and then it will feel even better.” 

As if to show you, he began long strokes, the head of his cock sliding against the vice of your juicy walls. And you felt it bloom—the deep ember of pleasure at your core, both satisfied and left wanting more by each thrust. 

Your moans and whimpers against his ear were compounded by the thrust of his hips, heavy against your own, pushing his cock to the hilt now in every stroke, the head of it brutally kissing the end of you every time. 

He sat up now, hands firmly on your hips to control the angle of you and the drive of his cock to be right where he wanted them. Moving between your bodies, his thumb danced on your bud again, sending you to reflexively grip him further out of the sheer ecstasy of it. “What would your rivermen think of you like this, moaning like a whore on my cock?” 

It was more of a suffocated squeal than words, chest heaving, not being able to help the way your body was in his hands, moving at the speed he set. “They would think me a traitor.” 

“But you just couldn’t help it, could you? You needed more of me, no matter what I’ve done.” 

Despite you both knowing the truth of it, hardly any shame could touch you now in the throes of your bodies. In between love bites on your ear and kisses on your neck as he took you, there was more than enough praise spilling from his lips: haughty whispers of you take my cock so well and your body is made for me. 

It was as intense as it was pleasurable. Aemond’s platinum tresses locked you into a cage where it was only him: only his body, his cock—nothing else. He was making you into a woman of his own liking, his spell on you binding you to desire and breaking every one of your senses to want nothing but him. 

There was no clarity and rational thinking bestowed upon your release. Reaching the peak of it, your cunt hardly willing to let his cock move inside you and pulsing and pleading for it to be even deeper, you cried out, your own howl into the night. Aemond fucked you through it, seeking his own peak within your walls and finding it in the vice you had him in, milking him for every drop of his own essence to spill in the hot syrupy tightness of your cunt.  

The sedation you felt in your after-pleasure was familiar to the first night—leaving you in a daze, the murky waters difficult to navigate. Fighting it was futile, but you kept yourself awake enough to feel him pull away, save for leaving a kiss on your fingers and hear his final words.

Visit me, my lady of God’s Eye

It would be a selfish thing—you knew—to keep the sword, no matter how badly you wanted to satiate your desire during the night. But the storm raged on, and it was only right to do what had to be done to prevent the entirety of Harrenhal from being consumed by the water raiding every corridor and sieging nearly all chambers and apartments, only the highest of rooms in each tower being spared. 

It was a difficult task, but you had managed. And not hours after the sword was back in the sheath it belonged in, the rain had ceased, to the relief of all in the castle except for one. 

You hadn’t forgotten his last words to you. Sometimes, you swam back to the remains of the dragon prince again, hoping the hallowed skeleton could see you in the angelic light only water could give.  

And sometimes, in the deepest chamber of the lake, you swore you heard whispers in the catches of the currents. 

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Gaiman. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Gaiman and Rob Wilkins which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’.

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different.

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

In 2024 on insta they said that it is in "complicated process of rights to stage Good Omens" and "We appreciate your support and patience of the progress or seeming lack therof, of Good Omens the musical but we assure you, we will bring you the show in the next few years."

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous stories— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin-like expression stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything is going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart raced uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

His demeanor didn't go unnoticed.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

...

Was that just a dream? Were you even real?

Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

🌔

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"... I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this was too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, of all people, Ford should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "but, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news—!"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑

[kachowden]

OMG I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT ARMAROS!!!! he’s lovely

For those of you curious about this creature v

Here’s a little information about him ❤️

He was originally created as a baldurs gate oc! He was my Tav, before becoming a part of a short story I had written (self indulgently), where he becomes a party member of the Player. And then from them I kinda fell in love with him and he took on a life of his own as a completely separate character.

His lore stems from having been a somewhat unconventional drow, who had a few too many ideals about life outside of the underdark and too many altruistic ambitions that stray a bit too far from their typical religious teachings under Lolth.

With his desire to venture outward and away from the group, as well as being a rather tall species of drow, and therefor “imperfect”, he was cast aside into the above to live out his absurd existence. After an unsuccessful attempt at becoming part of the elven species, (still being regarded as an “evil drow”, despite his rather timid disposition) he was led to wander for a while, before coming across a traveler. (In this case, you)

Now drow are known for their manipulation and mistrust of others, and while Armaros is a bit of an unusual drow, that way of life is still rather ingrained into his heart and mind. So he puts on act, a rather silly one given his stature, and plays the role of a helpless victim. He sells the role rather convincingly, and is absolutely delighted when you allow him to join your journey.

It doesn’t take long for him to develop a crush on you, especially if you’re of a separate species. But it all becomes set in stone when you valiantly come to his aid during a particularly nasty spat with some ogres and goblins.

“‘….This feeling in his chest. It hurt. Was he dying? Had life outside the underdark warped him deep inside? Why was it, that as he watched you fight against the beasts that had attacked him, his heart raced and throbbbed within his ribs. His lungs hurt from how powerful the thuds were, and his ears twitched, swearing that even amidst the swords clashing against each other, you’d be able to hear it….’

‘..His cheeks burned in an unusual manor, almost like the shameful burn he’d feel when his fellow drow had scoffed at his words when he gushed about life above. But this wasn’t shame. No, it was too fluttery, to dizzying to be such a negative emotion…’

‘Drow were highly intelligent, so it didn’t take long for Aros to connect the dots, when his eyes stayed so dutifully locked onto your form, a holy light seeming to shine around you and reflect off the sweat that beaded your skin…’

‘..You must have been a god.’

‘…A benevolent being sent to guide him and keep him safe, to restore his faith and to nurse him back to health with your kind words and gentle touches..’

‘..Yes, that was it. You were a God. His God.’”

Armaros, despite being a highly intelligent creature, had taken his realization of love towards you (despite only having known you a few days), and twisted into something made of unhealthy devotion. His belief that Lolth teachings were not suited to him, left him feeling a bit lost previously, and so when his somewhat deluded mind latched onto the way you protected him, and seemed to bathe him in your holy presence, he became your faithful little follower.

Offering you gifts, and praising poems. Upholding your words like they were sacred teachings, and even going as far as to write them down. “My god, My savior, My Lord, My Holy One” were all names he had referred to you as while you continued your journeys together. You were obviously a little disturbed by such a drastic title, but no matter how insistent you were, he would merely smile with such a love struck gaze and go on about humble and kind you were. You could be a completely evil and rule being deep down, and he’d still defend you till dying breath, and insist that his god could do no wrong.

Now despite the belief that the very ground you walked on was sacred, it didn’t stop his more selfish desires. Yes he knew he was hopelessly in love with you, but his belief that you were his god shrouded that love with obsession and a twisted lustful shame that brewed deep inside him. He even fought with himself in thinking that he did not deserve you in such a way, and yet did not believe anyone else would be a more suited lover for you. No one would worship you like he did.

His eyes would often wander down your figure, or lunge towards your lips when you spoke. He was still a rather pathetic character, or at least he behaved in a rather timid and shy way. Often whining about various things, and clinging desperately to your form as you walked, mumbling about how unfit it was to have you walk, you should let him carry you! He’s strong, and his stamina in unmatched. He could take care of you in anyway you saw fit.

No no! You mustn’t prune your hands with the rivers water, let him! He’ll bathe you, and rest assured he won’t miss a a single inch. Perhaps his hands wander a little to much and his washing becomes something more akin to a massage but nonetheless. You’re certainly squeaky clean by the end of it. 



Overall, his help is usually more of a hindrance, with how much he hovers around you, and how hostile he can be towards potential party members. He’s selfish with his god, why would others deserve to worship you the way he does? They can praise you from a distance.

But anyway that’s pretty much his lore🙏 I love him so freaking much, makes me kick my feet and twirl my hair fr.

[abyssalzones]

can you tell us about your interpretation of the better world universe!!!! especially curious how stan/mystery trio works into it

hell yesssss I definitely can. ABW is maybe my favorite niche gf thing and probably the only "AU" I care about but that may be due to the fact that it's an AU that exists in the canon and we know so little about it. so it has an established foundation that you're left to fill in the details with yourself... it's like a poke bowl to me. you can put anything in there

and since I felt like it here's a bonus pic of them living their best lives pestering ford

[explanation-y stuff under ze cut because I got very longwinded]

as for specifics of how I see everything working out, there's a few key points that establish why things happened differently from canon, the most important being:

Stan agrees to hide journal #3 somewhere

Ford reunites with fiddleford and they begin working together again

both of these are already confirmed in canon, the first being the most obvious "schism" between timelines. literally everything in ABW is the way it is because stan made a different decision. kind of crazy in terms of its implications: I feel like that moment in the basement is a really good example of how stan gets so few opportunities to shape her own life (while ford is in the picture...) because of her role as the 'black sheep' twin. it's not exactly a premeditated decision to push ford into the portal, it's her acting on feelings that have been bubbling unaddressed under the surface for 10-something years at that point, and only then does she have any sort of power over the "narrative" of both her life and the story itself, something that from her pov has been ford's story. and in the canon timeline, she says no.

so like, what the hell made her say yes in ABW's timeline? this question kind of haunts me because I feel like it has to be entirely dependent on what the inside of stan's head looked like at the time. it's possible something influenced her, but overall I think it's more interesting if ford did and said all the exact same things up until this point and it really was entirely dependent on stan's decision internally.

so stan says yes, goes on a big trip to the other side of the world somehow, and buries journal 3 somewhere probably never to be found again. yay! but, uh, going on a trip like ford was suggesting would... take weeks. that would leave ford alone again. and not to have my established thoughts informed by new material or anything but bill did give him 72 hours.

so, next order of business: how in the fuck would ford convince fiddleford to rejoin him??? I'm unsure between journal 3 and tbob's information how ford may have tried to reach out to him but it seems like fiddleford was pretty adamant about staying away from that guy, out of guilt or fear of bill/the portal or both. I don't think logically it would just be a matter of ford calling him enough times or finding out where he lives- and I think that's kind of getting away from the point of why ABW is the way it is too. if stan is suddenly making decisions that are influencing ford's life, I think it would be similarly interesting if fiddleford also possessed some unique autonomy in this scenario.

aka I think ford got fucked up badly (possibly involving losing an eye) and fiddleford found him half-dead while trying to burn his house down. [mabel voice] romance!

to clarify: I don't think fiddleford is obligated to take care of ford. a major part of him leaving the project was finally making the decision to leave a situation that was hurting him, that he'd been staying in entirely because he still cared about ford and felt on some level he could still help him (which gets broken with "I don't need you!") and I think that's a very reasonable decision on his part. but I also do have to think about all the times ford has been "the hero" in situations where fiddleford ends up hurt and helpless because of something traumatizing. I think it'd be fascinating to see that reversed and have fiddleford actively making the difficult, messy decision to take care of that guy even when they're on miserable terms. and so begins like a solid week of these two desperately trying to look out for eachother in a nightmare scenario where one of them probably needs to go to a hospital + keeps getting possessed off and on and the other is going through the worst addiction/withdrawal cycle of his life irt the memory gun. yay! (part of the reason this even works To Me also is heavily informed by the lack of secrets: if fiddleford is actively dressing that guy's wounds he can't really keep it all to himself anymore. crushingly intimate perhaps...)

stan gets back eventually. such is the context of this pic

from there it's a nebulous grab-bag of things I think could happen up to the foundation of the institute.

how do all three of these incredibly fucked up individuals get along? well they don't but then they do.

how do they get bill out of ford's head without performing amateur brain surgery? idk. my best guess is a fiddleford and stan bonding trip into ford's mindscape that potentially helps answer the first question. possibly utilizing the memory gun. shrugs.

what's up with that one picture you drew of parallel fidds holding the memory gun up to ford's head? well. okay that one might or might not be something that actually happened but the idea was just that ford is coping badly with a few specific things and I liked the idea of fiddleford "holding onto" something for him to remember and work through later when he's ready to deal with it, it's an interesting reversal of how he's normally more of a memory sink.

from the point in canon about them stabilizing the portal so that bill can't use it to get into their dimension anymore onward, I think it just becomes a matter of them living the lives they could've always had in canon without realizing it. hence "a better world." some cool tidbits I like to think about:

stan gets to transition much earlier (late 1990's perhaps?) and probably starts going by "lee" instead

she's also the institute's CMO and is mostly in it for going on business trips abroad with ford. and the money. obviously.

the institute probably also legitimately changes the world on a sociopolitical scale outside of just interdimensional travel since their research renders them uniquely untouchable and all three of them are trans (I'm cartoon logic-ing a little bit here just let me have this one)

ford is the eccentric bill nye esque face of the company, fiddleford is the backbone. that isn't to say ford doesn't do anything as I think he'd always moreso be in it for the science than the fame (though it is nice to be more than comfortable financially) but it's an open secret fiddleford keeps tabs on literally everything, he's still very security-oriented.

the northwest family now has a more prominent ongoing rivalry with the pines family that could be very funny to think about. they've taken all the LOGGING JOBS with their damn SCIENCE

part of the reason I thought ford should lose an eye is because I think having him wear an eyepatch would be a neat way to parallel stan's "role" as mr. mystery visually! stan wears an eyepatch for no legitimate reason to keep up appearances as a schlocky tourist trap host, but it also alludes to her being more than she seems under the surface. ford's eyepatch does sort of have a legitimate reason to exist, but he also could just wear his glass eye and it would probably be less "conspicuous." he chooses the eyepatch instead because it's part of his image as Stanford Pines, Founder of Oddology, and because it keeps him safe. there's also a little residual scarring there from damage to his eyelid/tarsal plate which could easily represent him hiding the more "damaged" aspects of himself under his successes. ouch.

I'm unsure if ford and stan would ever feel comfortable getting back in touch with their parents. I know a lot of people go that route with fan material but I don't think they should have to. I think they're much happier now having healed the rift between them on their own and getting to live successful lives for themselves, rather than to prove something to their father.

that being said I do think fiddleford gets in touch with emma-may and his son again and they end up on better terms with time and a Lot of effort. tate's family is now composed of his father, mother, "uncle" ford (in the ye olde gay closeted sense of referring to your dad's partner as an uncle), and auntie lee, and I like to think they go out on trips to the lake together often :]

also ford and fiddleford tie the knot unofficially (in the eyes of the government anyway) in 1990. owed to stan somehow getting "ordained" as a rabbi. don't ask me how.

the pines twins start visiting the institute from a younger age than they do irt visiting stan in the show-- but they're only permitted to come along on heavily-supervised interdimensional excursions once they turn 12. cue antics!

anyway, hopefully this extremely longwinded and loosely structured mess helped answer your question. I like ABW sooo so so much you guys

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ ACE OF SPADES

part two. | rich boy aven masterlist.

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your first date with rich boy aventurine is more fun than you initially expected, who knows where things will go from there // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. fluff, slightly suggestive, rich boy au, reader wears a dress, flirty aventurine, a/n. this will have a part two if you can't tell, fem! reader ♡

you turn your face to the left and let your visual perception take in the luxurious casino you've been invited in— undeniably, your first reaction was dedicated to the chimes of whistles of various slot machines announcing wins and losses, in combined action with racketing noises of their shafts being pulled.

your jaw parts and your eyes grow, it felt surreal to stand here with an expensive dress hugging your body tight, a small gift from your date, nothing more, nothing less. rich boy aventurine slowly slides his palm over the back of your hand to lure your thoughts back to himself as he intertwines his fingers with your own.

you stiffen, it didn't take a genius to notice that you were slightly nervous about your first date with the infamous gambler. if only he would've picked a better place to get to know each other— alas, in a way it was exactly what you've expected.

well yes, aventurine choose the probably, most unromantic spot for a first date— but, you got a dress as a gift, together with an embellished necklace and a free entry to a luxurious, private casino.

so, did you really mind? hmm, not really. in fact, it was quite unique and exciting to be here, you also felt safe by his side, and especially intrigued to get to know more about his, quote on quote, playground.

men, or how people called them here; high rollers in pretentious suits, glide like sharks over the soft tumble of the dice. it's all very crowded and distracting, needless to say it was interesting to witness, but you notice how your heart was thumping faster, that's when you began to feel yourself getting difficulties to breathe evenly.

snugly pressed against aventurine, you walk past the shrill murmur of crowds and bells of roulette wheels as the gambler spins you towards his chest, his hand carrying on to hold yours gently, "are you okay? you look a little nervous," he says nonchalantly, although his handsome voice told you a different story, an affectionate perception, "our table is right there, we can take a seat and talk if you want. "

your gaze slowly shifts to where aventurine was pointing his head towards as you look at a large table right next to the exclusive sight of exquisite gold and silver fountains and statuaries. this must've cost a fortune, you were certain that this area alone was the most breathtaking one.

you awkwardly glare up at him, your breathing picking up on tempo, "of course, but..." your last note was drawn out as aventurine cocks a curious brow at you, "would it be okay to excuse myself for a bit?"

you continue shortly, fists balled, "it's a little stuffy here, you see, i'd love to take some fresh air without bothering you about it,"

in all honesty, the air was, well, utterly despicable. the lofty mixture of overpriced cologne and sweat penetrated your nostrils to the point where it began to ache and scratch your brain.

despite the fact that everything was overwhelming in its entirety.

being embarrassed by your human reactions might be an imprecise wording and false emotion to feel, you shouldn't feel bad about this. although you felt awkward and uneasy to ask aventurine if you could take a swift breather outside.

what if he found you to be boring now? or even worse, ungrateful when it was him who made it possible for you to see something like this in the first place.

a high class casino that could never be visited by the ordinary.

he looks at you through his glasses and you could swear his eyes had a mellow glow, a tender glimmer of serenity as his lips carve into a handsome smile, "oh of course, lets go right away so you won't get nauseous," he utters out, his stomach sitting heavy with lead and eagerness to look out for you.

you freeze for a second, "uh, wait, i really don't want to ruin this night for you," and sigh, letting your gaze wander around everywhere but his direction before tapping out a nervous rhythm against the soft marble on the floor.

all aventurine does was laugh airily, "you're adorable,"

"you're not ruining anything, in fact, you really couldn't, even if you tried,"

ugh, everything about you is just so pretty, you're sweet and angelic and he's glad he's bought this dress for you, it fits you like a second skin— aventurine takes note of your beauty, he stores it into the most important places in his brain so he could dream about you later.

memorize how this dress looks on you. closer and closer.

"but here, take my jacket, okay? it's rather cold," he flips his jacket down his shoulders before draping it over your own before suddenly closing the distance from his lips to your ear— silent, there's a voice next to your skin, it's deep, handsome and smoking hot. barely above an octave as it holds a teasing verge to it, "i wouldn't want you to catch a cold, yeah?"

you hum in agreement as you rest your hands above his clothed chest, butterflies storm through your belly and settle heavily inside as aventurine wraps one arm around your waist, his breath wafting around your lovely lips.

you felt the need to kiss him, and so did he, feel the same towards you. for a moment, you two linger feeling each others warmth a little longer, relishing in your precious attempts to getting to know each other better. it's slightly awkward, you could tell that aventurine noticed how your eyes were fighting the urge to keep admiring him.

yet, he's not complaining— he could never, not when you're so cute, and your touch on him was consistently warm, your trace firm but confident, content and safe.

he hopes you will enjoy yourself tonight, and maybe, only maybe, you will invite him over to your place later.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[gotham-daydreams]

Hello!! I love your batfam series, rereading chap 2 got me thinking: Imagine Christmas

Reader is a child, they're so excited for Christmas, perhaps her new family forgot about her birthday because she's new to the manor, but no one forgets Christmas! Maybe this is the chance to spend time with their whole family! Reader takes the time to make little Christmas cards for everyone, each with her own wishes for them like:

"I hope this year, you get that [insert what the character is interested in here] you've always wanted!" and they add sweet little notes and doodles too.

It's Christmas eve, reader goes to where the tree and presents are, they want to put the cards on the mantle, or maybe the table? just somewhere where everyone can see them.

Reader passes the gifts and they get curious and excited.

'I wonder which one's mine?' their eyes get all sparkly and their smile widens, they place the cards on the table and head to the gifts, they read each tag.

"Dick, Jason, Tim, Dick, Alfred, Bruce, Bruce..." But no [Y/N]... No, that can't be true right? Everyone gets a present on Christmas, all the kids on the nice list gets a present, and [Y/N] made sure that they were nice all year, I mean, look at all they've done for their family! As tears well up in their eyes, a choked sob escapes [Y/N].

The door creaks open, "Master Y/N? What are you doing here so late?" Alfred asks.

"*hic* Christmas *hic* cards..." Alfred is alerted by the child's crying.

"Now, Master Y/N, why are you crying? Are you hurt?"

"Alfred...*hic* I was nice all year, right?" Alfred nods at this. "Then...why didn't I get a present?" Reader looks up at Alfred with those sad eyes, all hurt and desperate for an answer.

Alfred thinks for a moment and in an attempt to comfort the child, "Master Y/N, your gift isn't here because it's coming tomorrow, it's a very special gift, so it took some time to come here."

Reader calms down at this and asks, "Really?"

"Yes, Master Y/N, now, we must get you to bed, it's quite late, off you go now." Alfred leads them to their room and as Reader bids Alfred goodnight, Alfred is thinking of what he can order for Reader that would make them happy and that could be delivered immediately tomorrow.

please forgive me that it is very long hehe, it's my first time sending an ask ❤️

thank you for the batfam series tho 😊

I'm honored to have your first ask be sent to me! And I also apologize for the horrendous delay 😅

Don't worry about the length, I love long asks and your writing is amazing! I can definitely see that happening in the story, and can even imagine more of it!

Like imagine the family going back to look at the cards, and never really questioning where they came from or who wrote them until recently? Like, they sort of all had an assumption of who it was or could be, and didn't bother to really look into it until, well, all that happens takes place.

Imagine the reader had their letters sent to Dick, and tried to leave them by the window in the kitchen or hall for Jason. How they would sneak into Bruce's study to leave the note right on top of all the work he had left to do, and slipped a little envelope or note under Tim's door. They've tried to give it to Damian in person, but maybe got all nervous and just attached it to Titus' collar instead. Of course, Alfred always gets his handed to him or put into a little nook in the kitchen wall that only both of them know about. With Barbara's getting hers in the mail or rested upon a counter top, Cassandra's by a little side table next to her room, and Stephanie's close to the front door.

Imagine little reader trying to come up with new locations and areas every year, and trying to be more positive in their letters and also make them more meaningful - but just find it hard. It's hard to make something mean anything when you barely know the person your giving it too aside from exchanges that don't go past greetings and so on, but the reader tries as much as they can. Until that, like with all the things they tried to do, eventually stops as well - but maybe in a fit of self loathing. With them finding their own letters to be annoying, and the gifts they try to give obnoxious or meanings.

It drives them up the wall so much they eventually can't take it, and come apart. Hell, maybe they still continued the little 'tradition' but stuck to the little notes and letters. Now having grown used to getting no reply in return.

I know on that first night, Alfred most likely, personally tries to search for something before going out and getting it himself if he can. At least personally, I'd imagine it's a music box and it sort of serves as one of the inspirations that the reader has for even trying out music. Especially when it's the first thing they see when they get up the next day, and the soft melody is the first thing they hear.

It could have a larger effect from there, having been the reason the reader starts out doing school plays and so on - since it has two people dancing as the lullaby plays - before the reader eventually falls in love with music.

Ah! But that's just my own interpretation, and again, thanks so much for sharing! I'm so sorry about the delay, and not noticing this ask sooner! I love the idea, and can definitely see something like that happening in the series :]