#what it’s building to is very close now

[badnewswhatsleft]

rock sound #312 (nov 2024)

transcript below cut:

ROCK SOUND 25 ICON

FALL OUT BOY

A BAND THAT CAPTURED THE HEARTS, MINDS AND HEADPHONES OF A GENERATION OF KIDS WORLDWIDE, FALL OUT BOY UNDOUBTEDLY CHANGED THE LANDSCAPE OF THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE FOREVER, NEVER AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT, TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE BOLD CHOICES AS THEY PUSHED FORWARD. FOLLOWING A SUMMER SPENT EXPLORING THE 'DAYS OF FALL OUT PAST', PATRICK STUMP AND PETE  WENTZ REFLECT ON THEIR PATH FROM POP PUNK, HARDCORE MISFITS TO ALL-CONQUERING, STADIUM-FILLING SONGWRITERS AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD.

WORDS JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR

PHOTOS ELLIOTT INGHAM

Let's begin with your most recent performance which was at When We Were Young festival in Las Vegas. It was such a special weekend, how are you reflecting on that moment?

PATRICK: It's wild, because the band, I think, is going on 23 years now, which really came as a surprise to me. I know it's this thing that old people always say, 'Man, it really goes by so fast', but then it happens to you and you're just taken aback. There were so many times throughout the weekend, every 10 minutes, where I'd turn around and see somebody and be like, 'Holy shit, I haven't seen you in 18 years', or something crazy like that. It was hard not to have a good time. When I was going up to perform with Motion City Soundtrack, which was an exciting thing in itself, I turn around and Bayside is there. And I haven't seen Bayside since we toured with them. God, I don't remember when that was, you know? So there was so much of that. You couldn't help but have a good time.

PETE: I mean, that's an insane festival, right? When they announce it, it looks fake every time. The lineup looks like some kid drew it on their folder at school. For our band, the thing that's a little weird, I think, is that by deciding to change between every album, and then we had the three year break which caused another big time jump, I think that it would be hard for us to focus on one album for that show. We're a band where our fans will debate the best record. So it was amazing that we were able to look backwards and try to build this show that would go through all the eras - nod to Taylor obviously on that one. But it's also an insane idea to take a show that should really be put on for one weekend in a theatre and then try to take it around the world at festivals. The whole time on stage for this particular show production, I'm just like 'Is this thing going to go on time?' Because if the whole thing is working totally flawlessly, it just barely works, you know what I mean? So I give a lot of credit to our crew for doing that, because it's not really a rock show. I know we play rock music and it's a rock festival, but the show itself is not really a rock production, and our crew does a very good job of bending that to fit within the medium.

That show allows you to nod to the past but without falling fully into nostalgia. You are still pushing the band into newer places within it.

PATRICK: That's always been a central thing. We're a weird band, because a lot of bands I know went through a period of rejecting their past, and frankly, I encounter this thing a lot, where people have expected that we stopped interacting with older material. But we always maintained a connection with a lot of the older music. We still close with 'Saturday'. So for us, it was never about letting go of the past. It was about bringing that along with you wherever you go. I'm still the same weird little guy that likes too much music to really pin down. It's just that I've carried that with me through all the different things that I've done and that the band has done. So for us, in terms of going forward and playing new stuff, that's always the thing that's important to me; that there should be new stuff to propel it. I never wanted to be an artist that just gave up on new music and went out and played the hits and collected the check and moved on. It's all got to be creative. That's why I do it. I want to make new music. That's always why I do it. So something like When We Were Young is kind of odd really. It's an odd fit for that, because it's nostalgic, which is not really my vibe all that much. But I found a lot of nostalgia in it. I found a lot of value in looking back and going 'Wow, this was really cool. It was amazing that we did this, that we all did this'. That scene of bands, we're all old now, but it has taken off into such a moment culturally that people can point to.

Let's jump all the way back to the first ever Fall Out Boy show. There is very little evidence of it available online but what are your memories of that performance?

PATRICK: So the very first Fall Out Boy show was at DePaul University in a fancy looking dining hall. I actually applied to DePaul, but I never went there because the band went on tour. I think there were only two or three other bands. One was a band called Stillwell, who were kind of a math rock emo band, and then this heavier, more metallic band. And then we were there, and we had a guitar player, John Flamandan, who I have not seen since that show. He was only in the band for a week or two, and we were still figuring ourselves out. We had three songs and I had never sung before in front of people. I did a talent show at school one time when I was a kid and theatre kind of stuff where you would sing, but it was more in that context. And I was also a kid too. This was the first time ever that I'm the singer for a band and I was fucking terrified. We had a drummer named Ben Rose, really great guy. I haven't seen Ben in a million years, either, but we were still figuring ourselves out. The other thing is that all of us, with me being the exception, were in other bands, and all of our other bands were better than Fall Out Boy was. We were very sloppy and didn't know what we were doing, and so I don't think any of us really took it seriously. But there was a thing that was really funny about it, where even though we kind of thought we sucked, and even though we weren't really focusing on it, we had a lot of fun with each other. We enjoyed trying this other thing, because we were hardcore kids, and we were not the pop punk kids and the pop punk bands in town, that was like 'the thing', and we were not really welcome in that. There was a fun in trying to figure out how to make melodic and pop music when we really didn't have any history with that. It was very obvious that we didn't know what we were doing at the beginning.

So when did it begin to feel like things were finally clicking? When did you find your roles and what you wanted the band to be? 

PETE: In regards to the music, I liked Fall Out boy, way before I probably should have. I remember playing the early demos and it giving me a feeling that I hadn't felt with any of the other bands that I had been in. Now, looking back on it, I might have been a tad early on that. Then as far as the roles, I think that they've been carving themselves out over time. We've always allowed ourselves to gravitate to our strengths. Between me and Patrick, we'd probably make one great, atypical rock artist if we were one person. Because our strengths are things that the other doesn't love as much. But I think that what has happened more is it's less of a fight now and there's more trust. We have a trust with each other. There's things that Patrick will play for me or explain to me, and I don't even really need him to explain it, because I trust him. I may not totally understand it, but I trust him as an artist. On the other side of that, it's also very nice to have someone who can veto your idea, you know what I mean? It's nice to have those kind of checks and balances.

PATRICK: I had been in this band called Patterson, and all three of the other guys sang in kind of a gravelly, Hot Water Music vibe. I was not intending to be a singer, but I would try and sing backups and, it wasn't a criticism, but there was this vibe that, while I could do the gravelly thing, my voice was coming through and it didn't fit. It was too pretty and that became a thing I was kind of embarrassed of. So when Fall Out Boy started, I was actively trying to disguise that and mute it and hide behind affectation. Pete would really push me to stretch my vowels because that was in vogue in pop punk at the time. There were all these different ways that we were trying to suppress me, musically, because we were just trying to figure out how to do the things that the bands we liked did. But that wasn't really us, you know? It's really funny, because 'Take This To Your Grave' was recorded in three sections, about six months apart. Over the course of that time, I can hear us figuring it out. I think a really defining moment for me was 'Saturday', because I am not brave, I am not a bold person, and I do not put myself out there. When I was showing the band 'Saturday', we were jamming on the bit after the second chorus, and I was mumbling around, just mucking my way through it, and I did the falsetto thing. I didn't think anyone could hear me over us bashing around in Joe's parents house in this tiny little room. But Pete stopped, and he goes, 'Do that again'. I was so terrified of doing that in front of these guys, because you gotta remember, I was incredibly shy, but also a drummer. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, and now I'm singing in a band and I'm certainly not going to take chances. So I thought the falsetto thing was really not going to happen, but when I did it, there was this really funny thing. Somehow that song clicked, and it opened up this door for us where we do something different than everybody else. We were aiming to be a pop punk or hardcore band, but we found this thing that felt more natural to me.

As you embarked on Warped Tour, simultaneously you were finding this huge level of pop and mainstream success. How was it navigating and finding your way through those two very different spaces?

PATRICK: I used to work at a used record store and what shows up is all the records after their success. So I got really acquainted and really comfortable with and prepared for the idea of musical failure. I just wanted to do it because I enjoyed doing it. But in terms of planning one's life, I was certain that I would, at most, get to put out a record and then have to go to school when it didn't work out. My parents were very cautious. I said to them after 'Take This To Your Grave' came out that I'm gonna see where this goes, because I didn't expect to be on a label and get to tour. I'm gonna give it a semester, and then it will almost certainly fail, and then after it fails, I'll go to school. And then it didn't fail. Warped Tour was very crazy too, I was talking about this at When We Were Young with My Chem. Both of us were these little shit bands that no one cared about when we booked the tour. Then we got to the tour, and all these people were showing up for us, way more than we expected, way more than Warped Tour expected. So Warped Tour was putting both of us on these little side stages, and the stages would collapse because people were so excited. It was this moment that came out of nowhere all of a sudden. Then we go to Island Records, and I had another conversation with my parents, because every band that I had known up to that point, even the biggest bands in town, they would have their big indie record and then they would go to the major label and drop off the face of the planet forever. So I was certain that was going to happen. I told them again, I'm going to put out this record, and then I'll go to school when this fails. 

PETE: I think that if you really wanted someone to feel like an alien, you would put them on TRL while they were on Warped Tour. You know what I mean? Because it is just bananas. On our bus, the air conditioning didn't work, so we were basically blowing out heat in the summer, but we were just so happy to be on a bus and so happy to be playing shows. You go from that to, two days later, stepping off the bus to brush your teeth and there's a line of people wanting to watch you brush your teeth. In some ways, it was super cool that it was happening with My Chemical Romance too because it didn't feel as random, right? It feels more meant to be. It feels like something is happening. To be on Warped Tour at that time - and if you weren't there, it would be probably hard to imagine, because it's like if Cirque Du Soleil had none of the acrobatics and ran on Monster energy drink. It was a traveling circus, but for it to reach critical mass while we were there, in some ways, was great, because you're not just sitting at home. In between touring, I would come home and I'd be sitting in my bedroom at my parents house. I would think about mortality and the edge of the whole thing and all these existential thoughts you feel when you're by yourself. But on Warped Tour, you go to the signing, you play laser tag, you go to the radio station. So in some ways, it's like you're in this little boot camp, and you don't really even think about anything too much. I guess it was a little bit of a blur.

Pete, when you introduced 'Bang The Doldrums' at When We Were Young, you encouraged the crowd to 'keep making weird shit'. That could almost be a mantra for the band as a whole. Your weirder moments are the ones that made you. Even a song like 'Dance Dance' has a rhythm section you never would have expected to hear on a rock track at that time.

PETE: You know, I just watched 'Joker 2' and I loved it. I do understand why people wouldn't because it subverts the whole thing. It subverts everything about the first one. That's something I've always really loved, when I watch artists who could keep making the same thing, and instead they make something that's challenging to them or challenging to their audience. Sometimes you miss, sometimes you do a big thing and you miss, and we've definitely done that. But I gotta say, all the things that I've really loved about art and music, and that has enriched my life, is when people take chances. You don't get the invention of anything new without that. To not make weird stuff would feel odd, and I personally would much rather lose and miss doing our own thing. To play it safe and cut yourself off around the edges and sand it down and then miss also, those are the worst misses, because you didn't even go big as yourself. This is where we connect with each other, we connect by our flaws and the little weird neuroses that we have. I rarely look at something and go 'Wow, that safe little idea really moved me'. I guess it happens, but I think about this with something like 'Joker 2' where this director was given the keys and you can just do anything. I think a lot of times somebody would just make an expected follow up but some people turn right when they're supposed to turn left. That's always been interesting on an artistic level, but at the same time, I think you're more likely to miss big when you do that.

PATRICK: Going into 'From Under The Cork Tree', I had this sense that this is my only shot. It has already outperformed what I expected. I don't want to be locked into doing the same thing forever, because I know me. I know I'm not Mr. Pop Punk, that's just one of many things I like. So I would be so bummed if for the rest of my life, I had to impersonate myself from when I was 17 and have to live in that forever. So I consciously wanted to put a lot of weird stuff on that record because I thought it was probably my only moment. 'Sugar, We're Goin Down' was a fairly straight ahead pop punk song but even that was weird for us, because it was slow. I remember being really scared about how slow it was, because it's almost mosh tempo for the whole song, which was not anything we had done up to that point. But in every direction, in every song, I was actively trying to push the boundaries as much as I could. 'Dance, Dance' was one of those ones where I was seeing what I can get away with, because I might never get this chance again. We were on tour with a friend's band, and I remember playing the record for them. I remember specifically playing 'Our Lawyer…' that opens the record, which has that 6/8 time feel, and they kind of look at me, like 'What?'. Then I played 'Dance, Dance', and they're like, 'Hey man, you know, whatever works for you. It's been nice knowing you'. But I just knew that, on the off chance that I ended up still being a musician in my 40s, I wanted to still love the music that we made. I didn't want to ever resent it. It's ironic because people say that bands sell out when they don't make the same thing over and over again. But wait a second. Say that again. Think about that.

That attitude seemed to carry directly into 'Infinity On High'. If you may never end up doing this again then let's make sure we bring in the orchestra while we still can... 

PATRICK: That was literally something that I did say to myself this might be the last time, the likelihood is we're going to fail because that's what happens, so this might be the last time that I ever get a chance to have somebody pay for an orchestra and a choir. I always think of The Who when they did 'A Quick One, While He's Away' and there's a part where they go 'cello, cello', because they couldn't afford real cellos, they couldn't afford players. That's what I thought would happen for me in life. So I went in and thought, let's do it all. Let's throw everything at the wall, because there's no chance that it's going to happen again. So many things came together on that record, but I didn't expect it. 'Arms Race' was a very weird song, and I was shocked when management went along with it and had kind of decided that would be the single. I was in disbelief. It did not feel like a single but it worked for us. It was a pretty big song and then 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' was easily the big hit off that record. So then we have two hit songs off of an album that I didn't even know would come out at that point. But again, it was very much just about taking the risks and seeing what the hell happened.

As you went on hiatus for a few years, you worked on a number of other creative projects. How did those end up influencing your approach to the band when you returned?

PETE: On the areas of the band where I led, I wanted to be a better leader. When you're younger and you're fighting for your ideas, I don't think that I was the greatest listener. I just wanted to be a better cog in the machine. When you're in a band originally, no one gives you the little band handbook and says 'these are the things you should do', you know? I just wanted to be a better version of who I was in the band. 

PATRICK: There's a combination of things. 'Soul Punk' is a weird record. I love that record but I kind of resent that record for so many things. It's my solo record, but it's also not very me in a lot of ways. I had started with a very odd little art rock record, and then I had some personal tragedies happen. My EP that I put out far out sold expectations so then all of a sudden, Island Records goes, 'Oh, we think this could actually be something we want singles for'. I think we had all expected that I would be putting out a smaller indie record but then all of a sudden they were like 'oh, you could be a pop star'. So then I have to retrofit this art rock record into pop star hit music, and also channel personal tragedy through it. I hadn't ever really been a front man - I'd been a singer, but I hadn't really been a front man, and I hadn't really written lyrics, certainly not introspective, personal lyrics. So that whole record is so strange and muted to me. So I went from that album, which also failed so fucking hard - I should have gone to school after that one. But Pete had reached out to me just as a friend, and said 'I know you're in your own thing right now, and I know that you're not the kind of person that is going to be in my fantasy football league, so I'm not going to see you unless we make music. But you're my buddy, and that kind of bums me out that I don't see you at all, so I guess we have to make music'. I thought that was a fairly convincing pitch. It's true, that was what we do when we hang out - we make music. So we reconvene, and going into it, I had all these lessons that really made me understand Pete better, because Pete is the natural front end person. So many of our arguments and frustrations and the things that we didn't see eye to eye on, I grew to understand having now been in the position of the point man that had to make all the decisions for my solo thing. It really flipped my understanding of why he said the things he would say, or why he did things he would do. I remember early on thinking he was so pushy, but then, in retrospect, you realise he was doing it for a reason. There's so many little things that really changed for me doing 'Soul Punk' that were not musical but were more about how you run a band and how you run a business, that made me understand and respect him a lot more.

What are memories of that initial return and, specifically, that tiny first show back at the Metro venue in Chicago?

PETE: Those first shows were definitely magical because I really wasn't sure that we would be on a stage again together. I don't have as many memories of some of our other first things. We were just talking about Warped Tour, I don't have many memories of those because it is almost wasted on you when it's a blur and there's so many things happening. But with this, I really wanted to not take it for granted and wanted to take in all the moments and have snapshots in our own heads of that show. I did a lot of other art during the time when we were off, everybody did, but there's a magic between the four of us and it was nice to know that it was real. When we got on that stage again at the Metro for the first time, there was something that's just a little different. I can't really put my finger on it, but it makes that art that we were making separately different than all the other stuff.

Musically, as you moved forward, everything sounded much bigger, almost ready for arenas and stadiums. Was that a conscious decision on your part?

PETE: Patrick felt like he was bursting with these ideas. It felt like these had been lying in wait, and they were big, and they were out there, and whether he'd saved them for those records, I don't really know. That's what it felt like to me. With 'Save Rock And Roll', we knew we had basically one shot. There were really three options; you'll have this other period in your career, no one will care or this will be the torch that burns the whole thing down. So we wanted to have it be at least on our terms. Then I think with 'American Beauty...' it was slightly different, because we made that record as fast as we could. We were in a pop sphere. Is there a way for a band to be competitive with DJs and rappers in terms of response time? Are we able to be on the scene and have it happen as quickly? I think it kind of made us insane a little bit. With 'American Beauty…', we really realised that we were not going to walk that same path in pop culture and that we would need to 'Trojan horse' our way into the conversation in some way. So we thought these songs could be played in stadiums, that these songs could be end titles. What are other avenues? Because radio didn't want this right now, so what are other avenues to make it to that conversation? Maybe this is just in my head but I thought 'Uma Thurman' could be a sister song to 'Dance, Dance' or maybe even 'Arms Race' where it is weird but it has pop elements to it.

PATRICK: I had a feeling on 'Save Rock And Roll' that it was kind of disjointed. It was a lot of good songs, but they were all over the place. So when we went into 'American Beauty…', I really wanted to make something cohesive. I do think that record is very coherent and very succinct - you either like it or you don't, and that's pretty much it all the way through. By the time we got to 'MANIA', I had done all this production and I'd started to get into scoring. The band had done so many things and taken so many weird chances that I just felt free to do whatever. At that point, no one's going to disown me if I try something really strange so let's see what happens. 'Young And Menace' was a big part of that experiment. People hate that song, and that's okay. It was meant to be challenging, it's obviously not supposed to be a pop song. It's an abrasive song, it should not have been a single. However, I do think that record should have been more like that. Towards the end of the production, there was this scramble of like, 'Oh, fuck, we have no pop music on this and we need to have singles' and things like that. That took over that record and became the last minute push. I think the last half of that record was recorded in the span of two weeks towards the end of the recording to try and pad it with more pop related songs. I look at that record and think it should have all been 'Young And Menace'. That should have been our 'Kid A' or something. It should have really challenged people.

But we have spoken before about how 'Folie à Deux' found its audience much later. It does feel like something similar is already beginning to happen with 'MANIA'...

PETE: I agree with you, and I think that's a great question, because I always thought like that. There's things that you're not there for, but you wish you were there. I always thought about it when we put out 'MANIA', because I don't know if it's for everyone, but this is your moment where you could change the course of history, you know, this could be your next 'Folie à Deux', which is bizarre because they're completely different records. But it also seems, and I think I have this with films and bands and stuff as well, that while one thing ascends, you see people grab onto the thing that other people wouldn't know, right? It's like me talking about 'Joker 2' - why not talk about the first one? That's the one that everybody likes. Maybe it's contrarian, I don't really know. I just purely like it. I'm sure that's what people say about 'Folie à Deux' and 'MANIA' as well. But there's something in the ascent where people begin to diverge, you are able to separate them and go 'Well, maybe this one's just for me and people like me. I like these other ones that other people talk about, but this one speaks to me'. I think over time, as they separate, the more people are able to say that. And then I can say this, because Patrick does music, I think that sometimes he's early on ideas, and time catches up with it a little bit as well. The ideas, and the guest on the record, they all make a little bit more sense as time goes on.

'MANIA' is almost the first of your albums designed for the streaming era. Everything is so different so people could almost pick and choose their own playlist.

PETE: Of course, you can curate it yourself. That's a great point. I think that the other point that you just made me think of is this was the first time where we realised, well, there's not really gatekeepers. The song will raise its hand, just like exactly what you're saying. So we should have probably just had 'The Last Of The Real Ones' be an early single, because that song was the one that people reacted to. But I think that there was still the old way of thinking in terms of picking the song that we think has the best chance, or whatever. But since then, we've just allowed the songs to dictate what path they take. I think that that's brilliant. If I'd had a chance to do that, curate my own record and pick the Metallica songs or whatever,that would be fantastic. So it was truly a learning experience in the way you release art to me.

PATRICK: After 'MANIA', I realised Fall Out Boy can't be the place for me to try everything. It's just not. We've been around for too long. We've been doing things for too long. It can't be my place to throw everything at the wall. There's too much that I've learned from scoring and from production now to put it all into it. So the scoring thing really became even more necessary. I needed it, emotionally. I needed a place to do everything, to have tubas and learn how to write jazz and how to write for the first trumpet. So then going into 'So Much (For) Stardust', it had the effect of making me more excited about rock music again, because I didn't feel the weight of all of this musical experimentation so I could just enjoy writing a rock song. It's funny, because I think it really grew into that towards the end of writing the record. I'd bet you, if we waited another month, it would probably be all more rock, because I had a rediscovered interest in it.

It's interesting you talk about the enjoyment of rock music again because that joy comes through on 'So Much (For) Stardust' in a major way, particularly on something like the title track. When the four of you all hit those closing harmonies together, especially live, that's a moment where everything feels fully cohesive and together and you can really enjoy yourselves. There's still experimental moments on the album but you guys are in a very confident and comfortable space right now and it definitely shows in the music. 

PATRICK: Yeah, I think that's a great point. When you talk about experimentation too and comfort, that's really the thing isn't it? This is always a thing that bugged me, because I never liked to jam when I was a kid. I really wanted to learn the part, memorise it and play it. Miles Davis was a side man for 20 years before he started doing his thing. You need to learn the shit out of your music theory and your instrument - you need to learn all the rules before you break them. I always had that mindset. But at this point, we as a band have worked with each other so much that now we can fuck around musically in ways that we didn't used to be able to and it's really exciting. There's just so much I notice now. There are ways that we all play that are really hard to describe. I think if you were to pull any one of the four of us out of it, I would really miss it. I would really miss that. It is this kind of alchemy of the way everyone works together. It's confidence, it's also comfort. It's like there's a home to it that I feel works so well. It's how I'm able to sing the way I sing, or it's how Andy's able to play the way he plays. There's something to it. We unlock stuff for each other.

Before we close, we must mention the other big live moment you had this year. You had played at Download Festival before but taking the headline slot, especially given the history of Donington, must have felt extra special. 

PETE: It felt insane. We always have a little bit of nerves about Download, wondering are we heavy enough? To the credit of the fans and the other bands playing, we have always felt so welcomed when we're there. There's very few times where you can look back on a time when... so, if I was a professional baseball player, and I'm throwing a ball against the wall in my parents garage as a kid, I could draw a direct link from the feeling of wanting to do that. I remember watching Metallica videos at Donington and thinking 'I want to be in Metallica at Donington'. That's not exactly how it turned out, but in some ways there is that direct link. On just a personal level, my family came over and got to see the festival. They were wearing the boots and we were in the mud. All this stuff that I would describe to them sounds insane when you tell your family in America - 'It's raining, but people love it'. For them to get to experience that was super special for me as well. We played the biggest production we've ever had and to get to do that there, the whole thing really made my summer.

PATRICK: There's not really words for it. It feels so improbable and so unlikely. Something hit me this last year, this last tour, where I would get out on stage and I'd be like, 'Wait, fucking seriously? People still want to see us and want to hear us?' It feels so strange and surreal. I go home and I'm just some schlubby Dad and I have to take out the compost and I have to remember to run the dishwasher. I live this not very exciting life, and then I get out there at Download and it's all these people. Because I'm naturally kind of shy, for years, I would look down when I played because I was so stressed about what was happening. Confidence and all these have given me a different posture so when I go out there, I can really see it, and it really hits you. Download, like you said, we've done before, but there's something very different about where I am now as a person. So I can really be there. And when you walk out on that stage, it is astounding. It forces you to play better and work harder, because these people waited for us. The show is the audience and your interaction with it. In the same way that the band has this alchemy to it, we can't play a show like that without that audience.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Liminal Jason part 2

And, the plot bunny strikes back.

Red follows easily as Jason leads to the safe house. He spares a moment of thought towards whether Red is chatting with the whole family in the comms right now But then he focuses back on the kid in his arms. The kid is practically falling asleep, even as they grapple across buildings.

The instant faith this kid had in him was startling, and Jason has his concerns about why. But the part of his brain able to focus on concerns is trying to figure out how he trusts the kid so much already. The only information they have about him is that he can make unknown sounds, which is apparently a language Jason can communicate in. And yet Jason already knows that he would not let anything happen to this kid.

 Hopefully, the kid also speaks a language the rest of the group can speak. If not they can always leave it to him and Cass, as the kids’ body language seemed close enough to normal for her unique language skills to be used. 

They arrive quickly, entering through the fire escape into what could pass for a living room, in a very minimalist world. There was a couch though, and Jason went straight there to lay the kid down on it. 

The kid seemed very hesitant to let go though, waking as Jason tried to put him down. A whimper leaving his mouth as he latches on to Jason’s clothes.

Jason glances quickly at Red, and then picks the kid back up and sits down on the couch himself, with the kid in his lap. Red drags one of the two folding chairs by the folding table over in front of the cough and sits down himself.

“What is happening?” Red asks. Jason gives him a withering look through the helmet, then realizes that’s not enough, and he would like to be able to speak to the kid without the voice modulator potentially freaking him out. So, he takes the helmet off and places it on the floor next to the couch. Gives Red a look he can actually see, because really what does he think is happening? Then looks down at the kid.

“Hey, kid?” Jason asks gently. The kid looks up at him. “You got a name?”

“Danny.” The kid does his best to sit up, and scooch over to his own seat on the couch, now aware of his surroundings and situation. But a rumble comes from Jason, and he doesn’t let Danny go, so he settles back down. “I’m sorry about the trouble. I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Red looks confused at that, but Jason chooses to ignore him for now.

“I’m glad you were, so that I could find you. Are you okay?”

Danny shrugs. He lets out a hum of sad-fine. “I’m fine now. Or I will be, once I get settled.”

“Kid, you were in distress. Can you tell me what happened?”

Danny took a deep breath, and then slid away from Jason. Jason allowed it this time, and the kid curled himself into the corner of the couch, knees up to his chest and hugged them.

“My world was collapsing. Timeline deconstruction, leading to total meltdown. We were trying to get everyone to the portal, but… They thought the portal wasn’t safe. They wouldn’t listen to us, and they wouldn’t stop… One of my mentors got me through the portal. They sent me to this world. But my world is gone now.” 

“Hood, can I talk to you?” Red nods his head towards the hallway. 

“Right now?” Jason looks between Red and Danny, who is crying silently, that high pitched keen of distress grief-alone starting and stopping, hitching with his breath.

Jason growls, deep and strong,not-alone-mine-now.

“Yes.” Red hisses.

Danny sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe his face as he starts to give Jason a small smile.

Jason huffs. “Danny, will you be okay for a second?”

Danny nods, humming an agreement.

Jason chuffs a quick safe-promise and Danny gives him a small smile. Red taps Jason's arm, and he grunts, but gets up to follow him anyway.

“Be right back, Danny.”

Red and Jason go into the bedroom, Red closing the door behind him.

“Hood, something weird is going on.” 

“Obviously, did you not hear what that kid just said?”

“No, well… yes. But that’s not what I meant.” Red starts wringing his hands together. “I don’t know how you found Danny, Hood. You said you heard a noise, and I believed you, but I didn’t hear anything that whole time. And you two keep looking like you’re communicating, but neither of you are talking, and the only things I can think of to cause something like that is telepathy or mind control.”

“Woah, wait.” Jason holds a hand up to stop Red from starting to ramble, and once he’s silent runs his fingers through his hair. “You can’t hear the kid? The noises? I mean I don’t know how I’m making the noises, that came as a surprise. But you can’t even hear them?” 

“No, Hood!” Red seems very frustrated. “And if you don’t think it’s telepathy, then we have to look into other options.”

“Hey, now, wait a second.” Jason puts his whole body in front of the door, which makes Tim tense. Jason wants to tense as well, but he is trying not to escalate the situation. “Danny is not malicious. He’s a kid, and he needs help.” 

Red squared himself, preparing to argue, but Jason heard a cry from the living room and was out of the room immediately, heading towards the living room with his heart pounding frantically in his chest. 

Something ran into him, pushing him back against the wall, and before he could realize what it was, a syringe was in his neck and his head was getting fuzzy.

He tried to focus, keening out for Danny. Hoping Danny was okay, that he ran. He pushed away from the wall, keening again. But he didn’t hear a response before he was collapsing back. He would have fallen to the floor, but someone grabbed him. And then he was asleep.

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Friends? Just Friends?

part 2

part 1 here

When you wake up after a night that changed everything for you two, Billie lets you continue exploring what it’s like to be with a girl … ;)

y/n POV

As the sunlight peaks through the curtains I’m slowly pulled from my slumber. My eyes stay closed, allowing myself to fall in and out of a sleepy haze. The cool sheets rub against my soft legs and the breeze from the open window runs lightly along my arm. As I roll over I smile at the smell of Billie’s shampoo and perfume blending together. It’s a smell that has taken over my bed with the frequency that she shares it with me. I take a deep breath, letting it flood my senses before sighing and returning back to my thoughtless meditative state. It isn’t until I feel the brisk air hit my bare chest that I realize I’m naked. My eyes flash open as I turn to see Billie’s exposed boobs only half covered by the sheets and I am hit with the memories of last night. It all felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. Now I'm remembering just how real it was as I see her bruise covered neck. I close my eyes again, smiling as I play it all back in my head. play back the feeling of her boobs in my mouth, her lips on my lips, her tongue on my pussy. As I lay still, happily reminiscing on the passion we shared, the sunrays hits my eyelids and my brain is filled with gold light. I feel the bed moving and as billie’s body pushes against mine I open my eyes, watching her lips meet my forehead before she settles back down on my chest.

“goodmorning pretty girl” I half whisper half speak, my morning voice cracking through my throat. “goodmorning lesbo” she giggles back at me. “so that was real huh? not just an amazing dream I had last night?” i flirt out, not hiding it at all. “oh no baby it was very very real, so real, in fact, that ur still very much naked” Billie states, as her hand wanders down to my core, swiping her fingers between my lips making me twitch before bringing it back up and hugging me. Her intentions weren’t to get me horny again, they were more to just tease lightly, but I don’t think she realizes just how powerful of an effect she has on me. I lay still for a while, feeling overwhelmed by the joy I’m getting from billie cuddled up on my chest, the long building tension now gone and the flirting no longer needing to be hidden. I don’t dare ask what is going on, not only because I don’t want to ruin the moment but because I truthfully don’t care right now. All I care about is the way Billie makes me feel, and the way we so naturally fell into this dynamic, like it was meant to happen exactly as it did; Like we are exactly where we are meant to be.

Her fingertips lightly stroke my arm up and down, her touch so soft that her fingers continue to lift, disconnecting and reconnecting over and over. I hum at the feeling. It’s so peaceful with her, like we've been doing this forever. “Your skin is so soft, how did I not notice this before?” I laugh at her question before answering, “I think you were scared to touch me for a while, Eilish” She's silent for a second. I can feel her cheeks moving, forming into a smile. “mmmmm well I can touch you all I want now” she finally says before moving her hand up to grab my boob, shaking her hand up and down making it move with her. She looks so amused, so happy to have me like this now, to touch me like this now. “you better quit it before you get me all horny again” I laugh, pulling her hand away. Before I let her go, she interlocks it with mine and lays them both back down. “And what would be so wrong with you being horny again?” she looks up at me as she finishes her question. When I look down to meet her glance I can’t help but giggle at the smug look on her face. “shit i’m not complaining, go ahead baby” I crack back at her, my honest tone mixing in with the laughter, making it clear she can do whatever she’d like.

Everything feels so much more real when there isn’t wine in the mix, when the moon is no longer glowing but instead the sun is filling the room, when the birds outside are chirping. Her touch moving across my lower stomach, the goosebumps forming on my skin, her lips making contact with my collarbone, it’s all so much more real. She looks up and, fuck, this eye contact feels oh so real. when our lips touch it’s more delicate than it was last night, more intimate somehow. It’s slow, like we aren’t wanting to devour each other, but instead want to learn exactly what our lips feel like against one another. The slow speed continues but the passion grows. Our lips dance between each other, finding a rhythm, making up the choreography and sticking with it. The light sounds of kissing fills the room and we stay just like this for a while. We aren’t in a rush, I don’t need sex, I need her.

My own hands grow curious of her body and my confidence builds. As Billie’s lips continue to wrap around mine and her body is still draped across me, I grab her waist and pull her up more. Our heads are now equal, I'm no longer looking down at her. Her one leg is thrown across my body and her other is snug against my side. Our lips continue to move slowly but passionately, not wanting to end this intense make out session. I can’t remember the last time I made out with someone this long without it turning into more. Men and their fucking lack of foreplay, ew. I let my hand move down to Billie’s ass and squeeze it hard, wanting more of her body immediately. Our lips are speeding up and the kiss is becoming sloppier. I feel a hunger growing from deep within me, but it’s not for my own pleasure. I suddenly feel an intense craving to touch her, to please her, to learn all the parts of her body like she did for me last night. My thoughts race around my head as we continue to let the desire build. I don’t know what to do, or how to do it, all I know is I want her, I’ve wanted her forever.

I let the fervor turn to confidence as I roll us over, Billie now under me. I pull away for a second to look down at her before I smash my lips back down, not able to stay away from her. My hands roam her body fast, wanting to touch every part of her all at once. I slow myself down when I reach her boobs, squeezing and kneading them as I watch her chest begin to rise and fall more dramatically. My lips move away from her as I find my way to her neck, immediately licking from her collarbone to right under her ear, and then biting down on the same sweet spot I found last night. She’s moaning and writhing underneath me, her breathing becoming heavier as she makes it known how badly she wants to be touched, to be pleased. Seeing her like this turns me on so hard, never imagining she’d be so submissive, so willing to let someone else take control like this. In all the stories she’s told me of her crazy hookups with random girls, she’s always the one in control, even when she’s receiving. Right now though, it’s clear she’s given herself to me, surrendered to my touch and in her own world.

My mouth continues planting wet kisses across her neck and chest and she begins letting out very quiet whimpers, making it seem like I'm winding her up so much she’s about to explode. I feel her legs move under me, crossing them tightly, obviously searching for some sort of release. I move my hand to one of her thighs and pull them apart before planting my palm on her clothed center and grabbing her harshly. The long awaited contact makes her hips jolt up, forcing an even deeper pressure against her core resulting in a long, closed mouth moan. My desire continues to guide me as my hand moves under her shorts. I groan when I feel her arousal dripping down her thighs. I feel overwhelmingly turned on by how wet I’ve made her, how caught up in my touch she has become. I run my fingers between her lips, spreading around her wetness and watching her face contort in pleasure. Her eyes are closed and her hands are grabbing at her own boobs, continuing to move her body under me.

I let my index and middle finger slip up to her clit and as soon as I find it I begin wrapping tight circles around it. Billie whines louder and I put more pressure on her swollen bud, circling faster and tighter and letting my lips find their way back to her neck. “fuck y/n, yes, please yes” she moans out, begging for more of my touch. I’m caught in between wanting to suck sweetly on her neck or watch her face showing every ounce of pleasure I'm giving her. I pause my circles to run my fingers back up and down her pussy, collecting more of the wetness I’ve caused before going back up and finding her clit again. As I start to rub it again she opens her mouth, groaning loudly, no longer able to hold in her moans. “That's it baby, I wanna hear you, let me hear how good i’m making you feel” she lets out a gasp, as if she was holding her breath, and allows her sweet noises to spill from her. “god y/n yes, just like that don’t stop”

I lick up her neck again before sucking on her ear lobe, earning a loud groan and a buck of her hips. I continue to suck for a moment before releasing and whispering in her ear, “i fucking love making you feel good baby” she closes her lips tightly again, humming as I speed up my circles. Her clit is even more swollen now, making it easier for me to add pressure to my touch. Billie’s breathing speeds up, It’s clear she's drunk off my touch, hypnotized by pleasure. I feel her legs begin to shake and I salivate, knowing I'm about to make her cum. I can’t take my eyes off of her and my mouth opens before I even have time to think about what I’m saying, “cum for me billie, moan my name and cum for me” that’s all it took before she grabbed the sheets hard, back arching off the bed and the sweet sounds of her orgasm filling the room. “y/nnn fuckkkkkkkkk” she yells out as her legs shake hard with my continued stimulation “that’s right baby let go for me, that feels good huh?” she nods her head rapidly and the moans coming out of her travel straight to my own pussy. As she comes down for the high I slow my circles, then remove my hand, already missing the contact I had her with. Her eyes open as I bring my fingers to my mouth, eager to taste her cum. I moan at the sweetness, never expecting it to taste so good and she smiles, watching me lick her wetness off of me with pure hunger.

I feel as if I must literally be glowing, so high from finally getting to please a woman, so high from getting to watch as I make Billie cum. I am so so gay, so fucking gay, gay for Billie specifically. I want to spread her legs and taste all of her, devour her and make her cum over and over again. I want all of it, all right now. Instead I lay my head on her chest, helping her resurface and give her love after her high. “You are so insanely beautiful Billie, I hope you know that” I kiss her cheek as the last of my words hit my lips. Billie’s breathing is heavy, trying to control it as she laughs to herself, clearly shocked at what just happened. “How are you so fucking good at that, have you secretly been fucking women for years?” Billie finally says. “Fuck I wish, I’m just flicking my bean constantly” I laugh out boldly, her giggles mixing with mine. “Mmmm well lucky you, and lucky me now too, you know what the fuck you’re doing y/n” she blushes at her words, hit with the memories of the state I had her in just a few moments ago. “maybe with my fingers yea, but don’t have such high hopes for the rest” I tell her honestly, expressing my continued nervousness of all of this. “We’ll see, we’ll see” she giggles as she kisses me, “seems like you’re a natural, whispering all that nasty shit in my ear while you make me feel like im fucking floating” I hide my face slightly embarrassed at her calling me out for my quite dirty words that came out so naturally. Never have I been a talker during sex, but it seems like everything is different with Billie.

“Bashful now, are ya?” Billie giggles as she slides out of the bed, kissing me on the forehead before walking into the bathroom. Taking off her wet shorts, she turns to face me in the doorway, her fully naked body now on display for me. She’s so confident, so comfortable showing herself to me, so easy about what all is going on between us suddenly. My eyes follow her curves as I stare at her body, not even trying to hide my inability to look away. My attraction for her is so intense it feels it could kill me. My love for her seems to be the same, but I don’t think I’m ready to let myself begin to process that just yet. As I continue to stare, eyes wide, a smile planted across my face, heart pounding in my chest, and between my legs, she just stands there and smiles. She giggles as she begins striking poses, goofing off like always. “Fuck I’m so gay” I almost shout, my eyes still glued to her body as Billie and I both laugh at my statement. “Alright gay girl, I’m getting in the shower, you coming in or not?” I hopped out of bed as soon as I heard her words, running into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me, behind us.

I kinda wanna make this a series… or a wattpad book 👀

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{ You all know what time it is! }~

•The Circus•

Jazz and Danny have always taken care of each other when their parents eventually forgot about them

Like when Jazz had to learn how to cook and fight off reanimated food to feed Danny when she was 6 because their parents got a new idea and had to work on it right that second

Or when Danny had to find a way to copy Maddies hand writing so when Jazz got sick or had class trip and she was to busy with other things so could go and have fun like someone her age so have

So you can tell they always took care of the other so when Maddie and Jack tried to lock Danny in the lab and have their way with the “Ghost scum” Jazz stood by his side until the end

And now that they both are full ghost that’s not going to change a bit they took care of each other in life

They going to take care of the other in death

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

When The Circus held out their hand for Jazz and Danny they were a bit surprised and untrusting in the beginning in fact Jazz would never leave Danny’s side or the other way around

But they have been with The Circus for some time now ( It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been in here Jazz and Danny find out pretty quickly ) and the people of The Circus has gained some of their trust but never quite all of it ( only the other has their full trust )

but the one they trust the most has to be the ringmasters or the leader of The Circus they keep everyone safe and protected so Jazz and Danny can respect that in them

And they made sure Jazz and Danny were safe as well so they respected the ringmaster a lot but not to the point where they would take their side over the other but they still respected them

Back on track, Jazz has been given the role as a sharp shooter and Danny as a Aerial act and of course jazz and Danny are always in acts together (The ringmaster has tried to get them to be separated acts due to their different roles and he got punched by jazz after he got to close to Danny for her liking, she gains everyones respect that day)

And if you need danny you often have to get past jazz first due to her being overprotective of Danny

How Danny and Jazz fight, Danny will use the silk he uses often in his and Jazz’s acts grab the person and fly around as fling the person all around and disorient them as Jazz fires her gun at them until the person is unable to fight or Danny and Jazz just get broad they will from Danny’s silks or whatever he’s using for flying around let them hit the ground or Danny will stop flying and Jazz gos at it, they treat it like target practice (They got everyone respect and fear after they did that the first time)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ Now onto the DCU part! }~

A emergency meeting is called for the JL about a new potential enemy or a rescue mission

So when one of the heroes [Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green arrow, Green lantern, Martian Manhunter, Aqua Man] in the meeting ask what it is are told about

A large big top that has large mechanical legs with the possibility of more due to the build of this structure and it seems to have been avoiding main areas where one of the main members of the JL are like its hiding

inhabitants of this is known to be unpredictable in their actions and how they react to people and objects out side of the structure and how they respond to questions about the big top or anything related to The Circus they will act as though the big top and whole Circus itself can hear them and become quiet and run off (They don’t really talk to people out side of acts so they just run back to where the others are or back to where their act is taking place)

And very little is known about them but this was brought to their attention due to the disappearances of people in the wake of The Circus (The ghost walk in and move on to the Ghost zone or find peace) and this is a problem and with the concerning words of some of the people who are in The Circus it is leaning towards the rescue mission

And they need to find out what is happening and need a team to go under cover and young justice volunteers to go under cover

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ Now onto Danny and Jazz’s outfits! }~

For Danny I’m thinking

This for the outfit ~{ Or not this is really the best I could find that I at least liked enough }~

And for Jazz I’m thinking something like this

Or this ~{ I’m not picky about which }~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ And that’s it for this! I hope you things like it and life’s to short punch a politician! Byeeeee }~

[jamethinks]

Since Yor and Loid both work very dangerous jobs they have picked a few quirks in relation to safety. Their ideas of what's a normal thought process are a bit warped. But because they're so close it never really strikes them as odd

-

*Twilight and Yor enter a new building*

Loid: There are approximately 15 exits to the exterior, including windows

Yor: 20 security workers. Some are posing as wait staff. No guns only tasers

Loid: No. The head one has a gun. Small discrete. It's probably a pistol. My best guess is that he's not supposed to have it.

Yor: right. I think that table in the north east is our safest bet.

Loid: I said the same thing. Best escape route. Can accommodate moving Anya with ease

Anya: I just wanted to meet bondman.

-

*Twilight showing Yor around a house they want to buy*

Loid: below the basement there's a secret cellar. There's also a tunnel that leads all the way to the garage at the back of the property so we can easily escape

Yor: that's nice but I am concerned about Anya. I don't want her to come down here and play and get stuck by accident.

Loid: ywah, I'm gonna have to work out the mechanics of it. Need it be discrete but also not easy for kids to play around with. Will take a minute

Yor: that's fine. But I do love having a cellar. Nice a spacious and soundproof.

Loid: you could kill someone down here and no one would know

Yor: exactly.

-

*Yor comes back from visiting Melinda's house and is discussing it with Loid*

Yor: the house is such a maze. If you wanted to break in you're gonna need a map

Loid: what's the security like

Yor: surprisingly light on the inside. You would be good once you're inside but getting inside is the real struggle.

Yor: I must say the landscaping is a great desception. You'd think it would be easy to break in and use the foliage as cover, but it's so noisy it would alert anyone.

Loid: *chuckles* those Desmonds really have a way with security huh

-

*watching a horror movie*

Yor, watching a man get chopped up: that's so anatomically incorrect

Loid: that's way to much blood for such a shallow cut

Yor: you only get that kind of spray for a jugular

Loid: There's no way they didn't get caught with all that stomping they've been doing

Loid: that's not how a silencer works

Yor: look at that bullet wound. That's way to big for the type of bullets they were using

Loid: The exit wound is the same size, too. Seriously, who directed this?

-

*Twilight about to teach Anya how to shoot a gun*

Yor: loid what the hell are you doing?

Loid: look ok she's needs to be able to defend herself against intruders. The stabbing and hand to hand combat rely on her being in close proximity. Guns are vest for long range

Yor:

Yor: fine. But we are not showing her how to use a shot gun. It's way to heavy. Trying a pistol.

Loid: No. Too small. It'll be harder for her to get a good shot in. Shot guns can be propped up so she won't have to carry it. Plus, they're way more socially acceptable to have in the house

Anya: Becky's probably playing dress up right now...

[runariya]

not sure if you're taking prompts anymore, but here's my prompt request! if you are not doing them, please feel free to ignore!

🤪🪄👑 – jk and oc/reader are fairies. every year, the fairies hold a ball where the newly turned of age fairies showcase their qualities. during her turn, oc gets messy with her magic, and she ends up making hilarious wrong moves. however, she becomes the mvp when her clumsy magic helps the guard fairies catch an imposter, making fairy prince jk very impressed.

have a good day/night! 🌸

(crack+fantasy+royal) part of the prompt game pairing: fairy prince!Jungkook x fairy!female reader genre: fantasy!AU, S2L, fluff warnings: none word count: 1.210

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You loathe the annual Fairy Ball. It’s all glitter and expectations, prancing around in ridiculous outfits, hoping to impress some snooty elder or, heaven forbid, a prince. And as fate would have it, you’ve finally hit the ripe age of fairy adulthood, so now you’re obligated to showcase your qualities. Because fairies can’t just live their lives in peace; oh no, you’ve got to prove your worth in front of the entire magical kingdom.

You’re currently hiding in the farthest corner of the grand ballroom, nibbling on some fairy cake, which you think tastes suspiciously like glitter and disappointment, while trying to appear invisible. The ballroom is nauseatingly beautiful, with its floating chandeliers and enchanted foliage that sings in harmony. Everyone else is shimmering and twinkling like they’ve just stepped out of a fairy fashion magazine. Meanwhile, you’re trying not to choke on your nerves and the one slightly burnt cupcake you nicked from the refreshments table.

“Next up! ___!” The announcer’s  cheerful voice rings out, and your heart plummets to somewhere near your sparkly pumps.

You freeze. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This is it. Your turn. You’ve been dreading this moment for weeks, practising magic tricks in your tiny mushroom-shaped home, only to set things on fire, or worse, accidentally summon a squirrel that now refuses to leave your bathroom.

You’re not ready.

But then again, when are you ever ready for public humiliation?

Dragging your reluctant self to the middle of the ballroom, you avoid the gazes of hundreds of expectant fairies. You think you see someone stifle a laugh. Excellent. You haven’t even done anything yet, and the ridicule’s already starting.

And there you spot him. Prince Jungkook. All golden wings and dark, glimmering eyes, sitting on his annoyingly fancy throne at the head of the room. He looks disinterested, twirling some kind of royal goblet in his hand, but you know he’s watching. Everyone’s watching, so why wouldn’t he. 

“Go on,” the announcer encourages. “Show us your magic!”

Oh, you’ll show them magic, all right. You’ve been practising one spell over and over, and it’s practically foolproof. The plan is to conjure a beautiful, shimmering butterfly, classic, elegant, and safe. A butterfly can’t possibly go wrong, can it?

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and mutter the incantation under your breath. You feel a warm flicker of magic build in your palms. Yes, this is it. You’ve got this. You can do this.

You open your eyes, ready to unveil your masterpiece.

Except…

What’s in front of you is not a butterfly. It’s… well, it’s a blob. A wriggling, glowing blob that looks like it’s having an identity crisis. Is it a butterfly? Is it a fish? Is it just pure existential dread in magical form? Who knows. You don’t. 

The room bursts into laughter. Of course. And you feel your cheeks heating up to a shade that could rival a flamingo.

“That’s… unique,” the announcer comments after a beat, trying to sound polite but failing miserably with his suppressed snicker. 

“Uh, wait, wait! That’s not all!” you squeak, waving your hands in panic. Maybe you can salvage this. Maybe you can turn the blob into something respectable, like a flower or…oh, for fairy’s sake, anything else.

But your magic has other plans. Before you can say “sparkles,” the blob explodes into a cloud of glitter. And not the nice, floaty kind. This is aggressive glitter. Sticky, clumpy, and raining down on everyone within a ten-foot radius, including Prince Jungkook.

You hear a collective gasp. Somewhere in the crowd, someone whispers, “She glitter-bombed the prince!”

Oh, brilliant. Just brilliant. You’re officially the laughingstock of the century.

You’re about to apologise profusely, or possibly faint, when something strange happens. A figure near the prince suddenly jerks, as though they’ve been struck by lightning. Their glamour magic flickers for a split second, revealing…

Wait. That’s not a fairy. That’s a goblin.

The room erupts into chaos. Fairies are screaming, guards are rushing forward, and you? You’re just standing there, utterly gobsmacked, as your accidental glitter-bomb continues to wreak havoc.

The imposter goblin tries to flee, but slips on the glitter coating the floor and guards seize him in seconds. It’s absolute pandemonium, and in the middle of it all, Prince Jungkook rises from his throne, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“Silence!” he commands, and the room instantly quiets. Especially when he steps forward, glitter still clinging to his wings and his perfectly chiselled jaw.

“You,” he points at you.

You gulp. This is it. He’s going to banish you. Or worse, sentence you to a lifetime of cleaning up glitter in the palace.

“That was…” He pauses, debates. “Brilliant.”

Wait, what?

“Uh, excuse me?” you blurt out, because surely you misheard him.

“Your magic,” he waves around leisurely, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It exposed the imposter. No one else noticed, not even the guards.”

Oh. Oh. You did that. With your clumsy, terrible magic. Huh.

The crowd is murmuring now and you think you hear someone say, “She’s a genius,” which is objectively hilarious because you definitely did not intend to do anything remotely heroic.

Prince Jungkook steps closer, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, towering and annoyingly perfect. You want to say something clever, but your brain has apparently turned into fairy pudding.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh…___,” you stammer, feeling like you might spontaneously combust under his gaze.

“Well, ___,” he slightly bows his head, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “I think you’ve just saved the entire Fairy Kingdom.”

Before you can process that ridiculous statement, he turns to the crowd and raises a hand. “Fairies of the kingdom, let us celebrate this year’s unexpected hero!” His eyes flicker back to you, and he adds with a grin, “And my personal favourite fairy of the evening.”

Your jaw drops. Literally. 

The crowd cheers. Actual cheering. For you. You’re half convinced you’re hallucinating at this point.

And then, because apparently your life isn’t surreal enough already, Prince Jungkook kneels. He kneels. In front of you.

“___,” he husks your name, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blink. Your brain is trying to catch up, but it’s like a broken wand sparking uselessly. “You’re… asking me out?” you manage to squeak.

“Yes,” he grins simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The room is deathly silent. Every fairy is holding their breath, waiting for your answer.

And honestly, what are you supposed to say? ‘No, sorry, I’m busy glitter-bombing other royals’? Of course not.

“I…uh…yes?” you squeak, though it comes out more like a question than a statement.

Jungkook laughs, and it’s so dazzling you’re surprised you don’t faint. “Perfect,” he stands and offers you his hand.

As the crowd erupts into unexpected applause and cheers, you take his hand, still half-convinced this is some elaborate prank. But then he leans closer and whispers, “By the way, the glitter? Best thing that’s happened all night.”

You glance at him, startled, and see nothing but sincerity and amusement in his eyes.

Maybe the Fairy Ball isn’t so bad after all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Six

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: 1 chapter left to gooooooo!

Masterlist: Here

The next few days blurred together as the courtroom became a battleground. The air was thick with tension, the walls seemingly closing in around you as each new revelation about Ward Cameron was brought to light. The stakes were higher than they had ever been before. The pressure to win, to protect Willa, pressed down on you like an invisible weight, and the only thing that kept you grounded was the unwavering support from Rafe by your side.

Each morning you walked into the courthouse, the same grim faces of the Cameron family greeted you. Ward was there, his presence looming over the proceedings like a dark cloud. His smugness hadn't faltered, and even though he was under intense scrutiny, he still acted like he was above it all. He never once looked at you or Rafe directly—only ever speaking to his lawyers in low, controlled tones, as though his guilt was something he could keep hidden.

But it wouldn’t last.

Today, you were ready. You had no intention of backing down. You had the truth on your side, and that was something Ward could never escape.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The courtroom was packed as usual, and you sat in your chair, feeling the weight of all eyes on you. Rafe, though his jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed with focus, sat beside you. The final moments of this battle were drawing near, and today was the day you hoped would shift everything in your favor.

Ward’s lawyer had spent the last few hours trying to discredit the evidence you’d found in the attic—claiming it was old, irrelevant, that it had nothing to do with Willa’s future. But the judge had seen through those arguments, and as you waited for the next moment to arrive, your heart beat steadily in your chest.

Rafe’s lawyer stood, clearing his throat as he prepared to present the final piece of evidence. A stack of photographs, medical reports, and those damning letters Sarah had written in secret. Rafe held your hand under the table, a gesture so small yet filled with so much meaning. You squeezed his hand in return, a silent promise to him that you would do your part.

“Your Honor,” Rafe’s lawyer began, “we’ve gathered new evidence that clearly shows the abusive history of Mr. Ward Cameron. This evidence is not just hearsay—it is documented, it is real, and it is a direct reflection of the environment in which Rafe and his sister, Sarah, were forced to grow up. These letters, these photos, they paint a portrait of emotional and physical abuse, a history that has haunted the Cameron family for years.”

The lawyer presented each piece, and the courtroom fell into a tense silence. You could feel Ward’s gaze burning into you, but you refused to look back. This was it. You were done being intimidated.

When the lawyer finished, the judge nodded, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a flicker of doubt now cast on Ward’s credibility.

And then, it was your turn.

You stood up from your seat, your legs shaking but your resolve as solid as ever. You walked to the stand, the weight of the moment sinking in. You could feel the tension rising, the murmurs in the courtroom fading as all eyes turned to you. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, and then you spoke.

“Your Honor, I know you’ve heard a lot of things about Rafe Cameron in this courtroom,” you began, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside. “I know what people say about him. That he’s angry, that he’s dangerous, that he’s just another spoiled rich kid who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. But that’s not who he is. And that’s not the person he’s been to Willa.”

Your eyes searched for Rafe in the crowd, and when you found him, there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place—a mixture of vulnerability and strength that you hadn’t seen before.

“I’ve known Rafe for a long time. And yes, he has a past—one that’s been shaped by a father who made him believe that love was something earned, not something given. But that’s not the Rafe I’ve seen over the past few months. The man who sits here today is a man who has stepped up for his niece, a man who, despite his own hurt, has taken responsibility for her, for them. And I’ve seen him with Willa. I’ve seen how he cares for her.”

You turned slightly to look at Rafe again, your heart swelling with something you couldn’t quite put into words. You had seen him grow into a man who loved fiercely and without hesitation. A man who would never, ever let someone like Ward tear apart what he was trying to build.

“I’ve seen him comfort her when she’s scared. I’ve seen him stay up all night with her when she’s sick. I’ve seen him put aside his own pain to make sure she’s okay. He’s been there for her in ways that no one ever was for him. He’s been a better father figure than Ward Cameron could ever be.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. You weren’t going to break now—not in front of the court, not when you were so close.

“You want to know the truth?” you continued, your voice rising with emotion. “The truth is, Rafe Cameron is one of the most caring people I know. And he has done everything in his power to make sure that Willa grows up with love, safety, and stability. He is not like his father. And he is not the man they say he is.”

You paused, your chest tightening, but you pushed forward. “I’m not just here to testify for Rafe. I’m here to testify for Willa. She deserves a childhood full of love and protection. And I promise you, Your Honor, that is what Rafe will give her. I’ll give her too. We will do this together.”

The courtroom was silent when you finished, the weight of your words hanging in the air. You could hear the sharp intake of breath from those who had been skeptical of your testimony. Even Ward seemed taken aback, his smug expression faltering just for a moment.

You sat back down, trying to steady your breath, your hands trembling. You didn’t know what was going to happen next, but for the first time in a long time, you felt hope.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After a long deliberation, the judge returned to the bench. You could feel Rafe’s tension beside you, his hand gripping yours as he waited for the decision.

The room held its breath as the judge spoke, his voice calm but firm. “After reviewing all the evidence, including the newly presented documentation of Mr. Ward Cameron’s abusive behavior and the heartfelt testimony regarding the current guardianship situation, this court finds that the best interest of Willa Routledge lies with her current guardians—Rafe and [Y/N]. The court hereby grants full custody to the guardians of the child, effective immediately.”

For a moment, you couldn’t process what you had just heard. And then it hit you, crashing through you like a wave. You had won.

Rafe, who had been so stoic, looked at you in disbelief. His grip on your hand tightened, and for a moment, all the pain, all the struggle, all the long nights of worry faded into the background. You had done it. Willa was safe.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Rafe. You had fought together—and now, for the first time since Sarah and John B. had passed, you both had a reason to believe in the future again.

Rafe squeezed your hand, his voice thick with emotion. “We did it. We really did it.”

And as the gavel came down, sealing the decision, you finally allowed yourself to breathe again.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The courtroom was still buzzing with the aftermath of the judge’s ruling. The gavel had just come down, the words of victory still echoing in your ears. Willa was finally safe, and you had won—together. You and Rafe exchanged a look, one that held a mix of disbelief and relief. There were no more battles to fight. The war was over, and you had come out on top.

But just as you thought you could breathe again, the door to the courtroom swung open with a heavy slam. Ward Cameron.

His face was a mask of rage, his eyes burning with fury as he stormed toward the front. The room fell silent, the tension thickening again as people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. You knew this wasn’t over. Ward wasn’t the type to let go of a loss easily.

“You think you’ve won?” Ward spat, his voice dripping with venom. His eyes locked on Rafe, and for a moment, it was like the room itself shrank. His presence alone seemed to warp the air around you, making the world feel smaller. “This isn’t over, boy. I’ll make sure you never get to raise that child. You don’t deserve her. None of you do.”

Rafe stood up immediately, his jaw tightening, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re the last person who gets to tell me what I deserve,” Rafe growled, his voice low but laced with fury. The anger between them had been simmering for years, but now it was a live wire, crackling between them.

You could feel Rafe’s anger radiating beside you, but you stood quickly, placing a hand on his arm. “Rafe, it’s done. The decision is made. You’re not going to change it by causing a scene.”

Ward sneered at you, his eyes narrowing in disdain. “You think this is over, huh? You think just because you got some courtroom victory, I’m going to back off? You’re both fools. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”

Before you could respond, Ward turned his eyes back to Rafe. “You’re weak. Just like your mother. Just like Sarah. Always the disappointment.” His words were sharp, like daggers aimed right at Rafe’s chest, trying to cut deep.

You could see the tension in Rafe’s posture, his muscles tensing, but before he could say anything, Ward took a step forward, getting dangerously close.

That’s when security stepped in.

“Mr. Cameron, that’s enough,” one of the officers said sternly, moving toward him with authority. “You need to leave now.”

Ward didn’t seem to care. He stepped closer, jabbing a finger toward Rafe. “I’m not finished with you. Not by a long shot.” His voice was shaking with rage.

But before he could take another step, two security guards moved in, grabbing his arms and pulling him back. Ward tried to shove them off, but they held firm, dragging him away from the front of the courtroom.

“You’ll regret this, Rafe!” Ward yelled, his voice echoing through the room as he was escorted out. “I’ll make sure of it!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. But slowly, the tension began to ebb. People exchanged glances, whispered amongst themselves. There was no question now—Ward Cameron had lost. But the question remained: would he ever truly accept it?

Rafe stood there, his body rigid with anger, his fists still clenched. You could see the way his hands shook, the way his jaw clenched tighter with each breath. But he didn’t say a word. Not yet. Instead, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he turned to face you.

You walked over to him, your heart heavy with everything that had just happened. His face was pale, his eyes distant. You reached out, touching his arm gently, but he didn’t pull away.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, knowing full well that the words didn’t do justice to the storm that was brewing inside him.

Rafe exhaled slowly, a long, tortured sound. “Yeah… I will be.” He paused, then added in a quieter voice, “I just never thought it would be this hard. To finally win… and still have him out there.”

You nodded, understanding all too well. “It won’t be easy. But we’ve got each other. And we’ve got Willa. That’s all that matters.”

Rafe looked down at the floor for a long moment, his hand running through his hair. “I hate that he still has this hold on me, on all of us,” he murmured. “I hate that even after everything, he can just show up and make me feel like I’m still that kid. Like I’m still the one who doesn’t deserve anything.”

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He doesn’t control you anymore. He never will again. You’re not that kid anymore, Rafe. And you’ve earned the right to protect Willa. You are her family.”

Rafe didn’t look up immediately, but the words seemed to sink in. His breath was steadier now, his expression softer. Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper—something you had seen in him all along, but only now, in this moment, could you truly recognize.

“We’ll keep fighting for her,” he said, his voice firm, though still weary. “No matter what it takes.”

You nodded, knowing that together, you would face whatever came next. The fight wasn’t over. Ward might not have given up, but neither had you—or Rafe.

You turned to the door, where Willa’s social worker was waiting for you, her smile soft and reassuring. It was done. Willa was safe. And despite the lingering presence of Ward, despite the obstacles still ahead, for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could finally begin to heal.

And together, you would build the family that Sarah and John B. had wanted for her all along.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[lovelytsunoda]

nothing matters | lance stroll

summary: the first smutmas installment. crying after sex? slightly more common than you would think.

pairing: lance stroll x female reader!

warnings: depictions of sex, very emotional lmao my girl is stressed the fuck out and needs lance to help calm her down with his dick <3, consent checks are sexy! mentions of anxiety, crying after sex, super sweet lance and lots of aftercare.

"holy fuck, angel, you feel fucking incredible."

lance's fingers fisted the bedsheets as he continued to thrust, keeping a steady pace. she moaned underneath him, sharp fingernails digging into his back. her arousal was dripping on the sheets, his cock bringing her to the brink of pleasure.

and somehow, it still wasn't enough.

"more." she whispered, using her legs to try and draw him closer. "lance, baby, please."

"grab my hand, baby." he encouraged, taking her hand in his. "i know you love it when you feel close to me." his voice was husky as he kissed her, groaning into her mouth.

she had come from work as a ball of nerves. it had been a long day from the start to the end of her shift. everything that could have gone wrong in the office had, and by lunch she'd given herself a migraine. when she came home, she had basically thrown herself at lance, hoping that there was something that could be done to loosen her up a bit.

"you're doing so good, princess. just hang on for me and let me take you there."

she nodded, mind starting to go fuzzy from pleasure. her breathing was laboured, her chest starting to feel heavy. the big ball of anxiety that had settled on her sternum earlier that day was fighting for release.

"deep breaths, sweetheart. come on, breathe with me."

lance paused, resting his forehead against hers, and she met his eyes as she started to inhale deeply. after a few breaths, she felt the pain in her chest start to subside.

she was safe. lance was her sweet lover boy, and he was making her feel incredible.

"you okay?"

"yeah." she swallowed, resting one hand against the side of his face. "just a little tense still."

"do you want to keep going?"

"yes, please."

lance jumped right back in, starting slowly before building up the pace of his thrusts. she closed her eyes and arched her back, moaning as lance's cock slipped in and out of her, one of his hands moving to her clit.

"that's it, sexy girl. fall apart on my cock. you're in good hands. let go for me, you're safe, darling." he knew he was running his mouth, starting to ramble a little, but he also knew what she needed to feel safe and loved <3.

"jesus christ, lance." she breathed, burying her face in the warm skin of his shoulder. he smelled like expensive cologne and sweat, but she wasn't really paying attention to all of that.

"i've got you." he breathed, lips ghosting over her neck as he used both arms to pull her close, hips driving into her under the covers.

"fuck!" she came with something that sounded similar to a sob, the pressure building and building and building until it popped like a very anti-climactic balloon.

she fell limp in her lover's arms, a few tears escaping from the corner's of her eyes. she breathed deeply, chest shaking as she realized what was happening. she drew back from lance, swiping her fingers under her eyes to clear away the salty tears.

"god, i needed that." she sniffled quietly. "thank you."

concern crept into lance's features as he pulled out of her, moving to discard the filled condom. "sweet girl, what's wrong?"

"nothing's wrong. these are good tears, i promise!" she tried to laugh. "i'm just under a lot of stress at work and my emotions are a fucking wreck right now. i don't know what's wrong with me."

unwilling to watch his lover fall to pieces in such a way, lance pulled her close to his chest, hoping that feeling his strong arms wrapped around her slender frame, or hearing the beating rhythm of his heart, would be enough to bring her back to the present.

"hey, pretty girl, it's okay. you're okay. nothing is wrong with you. you just needed a release, and i totally understand that. i enjoyed every moment with you. you did so good, princess. you always do."

he kissed her head softly, brushing a flyaway bang out of her eyes. he kissed her closed eyelids, and then her lips, holding her softly and tenderly.

"i want you to go and splash some water on your face and put on something comfortable. i'm going to go and get you a glass of water and something sweet, okay? and then we can curl up in bed and watch a few episodes of mike and molly. if you're up for it, we can even go for a round two later."

she smiled softly, leaning up to kiss him. "i like the sounds of that."

climbing out of bed, she wrapped the throw blanket form the foot of the bed around her body before tip-toeing to the bathroom, where she ran a brush through her hair and splashed some water on her face. she dressed in her warmest and coziest flannels before pressing a cold compress to each of her eyes.

she heard movement in the bedroom and poked her head out of the ensuite. lance was balancing a tray filled with two glasses of ice water, two mugs of hot chocolate and what appeared to be two massive slices of christmas cheescake.

"did you make cheesecake while i was out?"

lance smiled sheepishly, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. "i gave it a try while you were at work. i actually burned the crust on the first batch, so i gave those ones to scotty. this is the second attempt."

she laughed, pulling him in for a hug and a soft kiss. "i'm sure they're perfect. i love you."

"i love you more."

[apricot-blossomss]

Mm what about a date night with the gods/goddesses? (you can choose whoever you’d like to write this for, but I’d love for it to include hermes! if you do decide to write this tysm in advance <3)

☛ date night with the gods [apollo, hermes, ares, dionysus x reader]

☛ sfw; I'm pretty busy right now, so until I have the time for oneshots, something shorter...

APOLLO takes you to a concert

There were few things Apollo loved more than impressing you with his skills. Boasting with his prophetic abilities, winking at you when fixing up injuries, but most of all singing to you the songs he composed in honor of you. The only downside to that was that he couldn't really have you like this when he did: flush against him, your impossibly soft lips on his, both drunk on each other and the music filling your ears.

When he found out you had a favorite artist after him, his first instinct was to call for a contest of skill, but the guy did have talent that was put to good use right now: you were delighted to be at the concert and he could kiss you stupid between singing people and dancing bodies. You had fantastic taste in music, he had to admit the singer was truly an artist, even though he of course didn't even come close to his level.

Your hips mimicked his movement, moving subconsciously with the rhythm. In need of air, you broke from the kiss -you mortals were all so bound by nature- looking up at him with those starry eyes of yours. His gaze wandered from your stunningly beautiful eyes down to your kiss-bitten lips and he grinned at you, nudging your nose with his and prompting you to meet his lips once more. Apollo had unshakable confidence, but it didn't hurt to remind you of how amazing he was when the artist started playing one of your favorite songs of his discography.

After a few second, you broke away from the gentle kisses once more, but not to breathe. You leaned closer to him and started to sing along to the music, right next to his ear. His initial mild annoyance at you singing another artist's song quickly faded, because you were singing just for him. You were always very adamant to avoid singing in his presence because you were insecure, but now you were singing and Apollo could have dropped to his knees for you right there on the dance floor.

Instead, he leaned closer to you, engulfed you in his arms and started singing along as well, quietly, close to your ear. A light shudder ran over your body and your voice quivered a little, making him smile. Softly swaying, singing to each other in your own little bubble, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of an electrocuted crowd and the vibrations of a deep bass, his world shrank down. From the limitless perception of a god down to just you and him, just this moment, frozen in time, forever.

HERMES runs through new york with you

"Stop!" you had to cry out, stumbling to a halt as Hermes' arm sneaked around your waist to stabilize you against him. Pressing a hand into your side, you gasped for air, completely out of breath. Your godly companion broke out into a hazy giggle when you panted against him and earned a playfully upset stare. "I'm not as fast as you, Hermes."

"Sorry, baby," the god smiled sheepishly, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. You waved it off and kneeled down on the ground, completely drained. When Hermes had proposed to take you out on a date night, you hadn't imagined speeding through New York with him, slipping in and out of the never ending shadows of the skyscrapers, faces lit up in a rainbow of the colors of the colorful blinking shop signs.

"Noo, don't give up now, baby," Hermes cooed, pulling you to your feet and ignoring your weak protests. His eyes were gleaming with excitement- and a hint of madness. "We're almost there."

"We're going somewhere?" you asked weakly and a wide, boyish grin spread across his features. "Of course! Up there." And he pointed at the top of the tall office building you had paused at. Your jaw fell slack. "You're kidding."

He wasn't.

Moments later, he was lifting you up by the waist; five, ten, twenty feet off the ground and even higher up. One look at the disappearing ground had your stomach churn, so you opted for burying your face in Hermes' chest. A soft peck on your cheek made you look up into his eyes. In them, you saw the lights of the city reflected. Blue, red, yellow, green, purple. There were no stars to be seen over New York. But that was fine. You had one of your own. And he shone even brighter.

ARES takes you to a restaurant

Ares was sweating, and the suit didn't help. Checking his clock every other second, even though you weren't even late yet. Still, he felt just about ready to kill the next peasant that gave him an irritating look, as he was waiting before the most expensive restaurant of the city, alone, writhing and looking more like a security guard than anything else. Why had he come twenty minutes early? Now he looked like an idiot.

Restaurants weren't really his thing. If it had been solely up to him, he would have taken you to a fighting ring or an exciting war zone, but for you, he wanted to make everything perfect. So, when he asked chatGPT for help and it had told him that a good date idea was to take your significant other to the restaurant, he had been willing to set his discomfort aside.

"Ares!"

It was almost embarrassing how fast his frown subsided and was replaced by a rare smile on his features at the sight of you, stumbling out of an uber in a knee-long red dress that took his breath away. Seemingly not too experienced in your red heels, you wobbled up the way to the entrance and Ares met you halfway, instinctively putting an arm around your waist to stabilize you.

"You look pretty," he murmured under his breath and thought about how frustrating it was to know that his brother could have composed an ode to your beauty while he was left desperately searching his blank mind for the appropriate words. But even though his words had been all but poetic, you lit up and smiled at him brightly. "Thank you, Ares. You too." Ares hid his blush by turning to the entrance and nudging you forward, but the gentle tap of your hand told him you saw right through him.

DIONYSUS took you to a party... you think...

You were probably giggling, but all you could hear was the rushing in your ears and your favorite sound on earth: the laugh of your divine lover. Slumping against Dionysus, you passed by some pedestrians that were no doubt giving you dirty looks, but you really couldn't tell. A knot of two intertwined bodies swaying down the quiet suburban street in the dead of night, laughing obnoxiously and black out drunk.

How had you even gotten here? The fresh air helped a little with the fog in your mind, but one look at Dionysus' fiery eyes and you were in a blissful haze once more. The only reason your stumbling feet hadn't sent you falling to the ground yet was the inebriated god's arms around your waist as the two of you ran away from piqued suburban pedestrians on the late evening walk into the parking lot of some supermarket.

"How did we get here?" you wheezed, stumbling around the parking area. Dionysus only shrugged, his face showing the cutest of pouts. "It's not very fun here."

Shrugging off his arms, you sat down on the concrete and flopped onto your back, looking up at the sky. There was a decent number of stars to be seen. The god layed down beside you much more gracefully and rolled onto his belly, encircling your waist with his arms and hiding his face in the crook of your neck where he placed a trail of sloppy, drunken kisses.

You felt his lips move against your neck, giggling out drunken little confessions, his arms pulling you more tightly against his chest. His soft body and your pleasantly buzzing head minimized the discomfort of the concrete as you cuddled into him. Your eyes wandered up above, to the stars, where he said he always watched you from. Maybe he would take you with him one day. If what he was rambling into your skin had the slightest bit of sincerity to it.

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know you?

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: In the aftermath of a brief Kidnapping, Red Hood seems to think your important and wont stop hanging around your apartment.

Or in other terms, Jason got scared you were gonna die and doesn’t want to leave you alone

Notes: Reader is a waitress at a local bookstore/coffee shop that Jason frequents and he has grown very fond of her. They are vague acquaintances And she does not know that Jason is Red Hood. This is literally my first-ever attempt at a fanfic and Jason Todd has been rattling around in my brain. I might attempt to make this like a short series or something. Anyway, I hope it's enjoyed!!

“I think I have a new favorite stalker,” you say loudly out your open window.

 Keeping your window open in Gotham was probably the worst idea you could ever have but your curiosity got the better of you when started to notice the fleeting red hanging out across the street and occasionally on your fire escape over the past two weeks. At first you were worried considering your recent encounter with Scarecrow as an attempted research rat.

However, the longer the red stayed near the easier it became to recognize. His helmet was shiny, which is what made it so easy to spot him. How that was helpful to a vigilante you didn’t know. Red hood was watching you and you had a feeling it was to make sure you were okay. You had heard of other bats checking on Civilians after traumatic incidents when they could, but every night for two weeks seems a bit excessive and he hasn’t actually talked to you. So what was he doing?

With no response to your jab, you lean out your window and repeat yourself, making a point to stare at the red helmet on the building across the street.

“I said I think I have a new favorite stalker!” You continue to stare him down.

Even in the minimal street lighting you can see his body tense, ready to run.

“Maybe he’d like to chat?” you tilt your head in questioning. You don’t why you asked. You were bad at keeping a regular conversation. If he came over and did, in fact, decide to chat, it might end up a short conversation. 

A clattered thud pulls you from your thoughts and you gaze turns from the opposite roof top to the very large man now standing on your fire escape next to your window. You can’t help but stare at him. 6” something and built like a brick wall. Intimidating even leaning against the building.

Was he this big when he saved me?

“Hi?” is the only response you could muster. The urge to slam the window closed and shut your curtains itches at your finger tips. He stares at you, or at least you assume as much, the helmets white eyes giving away nothing. No wonder people were terrified of Red Hood. You haven’t even done anything wrong and you could wet yourself  right here and now.

“Hi” You don’t know why your shocked to hear the modulated voice. He had talked to when he saved you from Scarecrow but it was still strange to hear. Slightly robotic but definitely a person underneath.

You realize that, maybe, you’ve been staring for too long.

“Tea?” you back away from the window and head for the kitchen expecting him to follow, as well as taking a moment to breath.

You just invited a good/bad vigilante into your home! What is wrong with you?  Your mind is a swirling, anxious debate as you fill your kettle.

“I only have Green tea, I hope you don’t mind.” you yell from the kitchen, unsure if he was even in the apartment.

“Not at all” His voice is close then you anticipated, assuming he stay close to the window.

Instead you turn to find him sitting comfortably at your dining room table, watching you move about the kitchen. He looks out of place in your soft warm toned home. His brown leather jacket the only thing that could blend in. The harsh red bat on his chest sticking out like a sore thumb. Your gaze lingers a moment at the holsters on his thighs, suddenly realizing that if he wanted to do something to you, you were screwed. You turn back to your cabinets and pull out a couple of mugs, pushing away the thoughts. Red Hood was good guy, despite what previous attempts at bad he had in the past. You stand at the counter and stare at your kettle, willing it to heat faster. After a moment, You hear a distorted sigh.

“You wanted to talk?” Red Hood asks

You shrug your shoulders without turning, not entirely prepared for a conversation just yet. Red Hood doesn’t push you. The kettle begins to whistle, and you pour the two mugs, settling tea bags into them. You pick them up and set one in front of red hood, and settle into the seat opposite his, blowing on your tea. You take a sip and promptly burn your tongue, hissing in pain.

“it’s hot”

Your eyes fly up to Red Hood. You choke out a thanks, Having not realized he had taken off his Helmet. You let eye linger across his face, very handsome. A scar on his lips, that rests in a smirk, and another across his cheek. As you eye move up you let out a startled laugh, Another mask keeps his eyes hidden.

“What?” He asks, The smirk on his lips grows.

As your laughing fit slows, you pause to breath.

“You wear two masks.” You pause waiting for him to laugh. All he does is furrow his brows.

“it’s funny” you insist but he doesn’t respond. You settle down again. Well as much as you can considering the man in front of you, staring at your mug, slightly embarrassed

“So I’m your favorite stalker? You got a few?” Red's voice rings out in the silence. It’s rough and deep, like he’d been yelling.

A flush creeps up your face. If you were embarrassed before, you were definitely embarrassed now. It had taken you all day to come up with the throw away comment. You thought It was funny. You also didn’t think you would get this far in your interaction with Red Hood.

“Not really, just the one I hope” you chance a glance at him to find him still unsettlingly staring at you as a he takes a sip of his tea, now cooled. Your mind searches for what else to say.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want that either” Jason finally breaks eye contact with you, looking around your apartment.

With his stare no longer on you, you take the opportunity to really take him in. Despite the scars on his face, there was kindness there. And despite his intimidating stature, he seemed to pull himself in, like he was afraid to take up space. His forearms exposed through his suit. What a weird design. Not that you were complaining. Overall, Red Hood was hot. You flush at the thought.

“Thank you, by the way” you rush out, “for saving me… it really means a lot”

Jason turns his gaze back to you. You brave up and hold his stare. Suddenly thinking, he looks familiar. You furrow your brows for a moment.

“Do I know you?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You physically cringe and try to back track.

“I mean, obviously I know you, you saved my life and all but I mean like I know your face? Maybe, not that it matters. Course you wouldn’t tell me if I did know your civilian identity because then it wouldn’t be a secret. I just think I know your face but that doesn’t mean that I want you to tell me. And maybe you just have one of those faces…” you continue to ramble some more. Jason watches you carefully and finishes his tea. You pause to breath in your rant and he jumps in.

“Thanks for the tea” he grabs his Helmet, sliding it on before continuing, voice changed, “and your welcome, for saving you.”

You watches as he walks back toward the window, frozen and unsure what to do. As climbs out onto the fire escape you yell out.

“Your welcome and you don’t have to hide outside, you can come in next time.”

He’s gone before even finish the sentence. You sink back in your chair.

What is wrong with you? Why are you so awkward? That was terrible!

You try to push the interaction from your mind as you close the window and go about spot cleaning your apartment. Once done your anxious thoughts return.

This is going to be a long night. You think as you turn into bed.

[smoothriverrocksrock]

(parody)

AITA For unionizing against my shitty boss?

So I (27 C) and my friend O (27 C) have been working at the same job for cycles. It’s in horrible conditions, the mortality rate is crazy, and we don’t even get insurances. But hey, it’s an important job and someone has to do it, right? We’ve been working at this job together for the same amount of time, and we’ve become good friends outside of it. We also had this supervisor, E (29 C), who was super strict, but she was also really good at her job which is a blessing among supervisors so none of us complained. Well one day we had a work accident and E got blamed for it. Totally unfair, and it wasn’t even close to being her fault (she was the reason there weren’t any casualties!). Then O and I found out that if someone - ANYONE - with a high enough ranking in the corporate ladder gets pissed at you they can demote you into oblivion. We found this other guy, B (24 C), and apparently he’s been stuck in the same position for longer than he can remember after that happened to him.

Talking with B, O and I learned that we might have a lead towards finding this really important key the previous boss had lost. So we left. Not quitting, not yet, but we left to find the key. We also found E along the way, so it was myself, O, E, and B. Some time passed and then we met this guy, A (??? C), who turned out to be an old boss at our work who got replaced. He told us all about how workers at the company used to have things like rights and insurance and whatever, and how that all changed after the previous secretary murdered all the other old chairmen (minus A). I, and the others, were understandably pissed!! We also found out that the only reason our shitty job exists is because our new boss somehow fumbled a renewable resource and made it extinct. Honestly for a while I kinda thought our group and I were on the same page after this. I mean, the only obvious solution right now was to unionize, right? Kick out the current boss, reestablish rights, be the change we want to see in the world. A helped us gather some evidence against our boss, and we were going to go show it to everybody when he kinda got kidnapped. It was a whole thing, but what matters is that we learned that a LOT of people got laid-off because of the current boss. It was bad, they all became homeless after losing their jobs and were living in a comunal shelter together. I also gained the homeless group’s respect by beating the shit out of their leader, but again, that’s a whole other thing.

Some more stuff happens (It was a weird two days) and eventually I get the chance to really tell my boss how I feel. So I do. Yeah that didn’t go very well. Luckily O and E crashed a train into the building before I could get murdered, but I was still determined to unionize. I hunted down our boss until I had him cornered, but at the last second O stopped me from unionizing! What?! He said some stuff about morality and some “murder is wrong” bullshit and I couldn’t believe it! The same person who worked with me for cycles, who suffered all the same things I did, who was with me every step of this journey, didn’t want to unionize with me? The fuck? Is he stupid???

BFF for life or not, I wasn’t about to let O stop me. Some kinda personal stuff happened after that, but I did it! I unionized against our boss! The homeless gang was around so I recruited them into my union, but for some reason E and B were really freaking out about what I did. I tried convincing them to join me, but then O started getting in on it, and get this: he had been promoted! And was trying to use his new power against me!! Unacceptable

So I tried to unionize against O, but he just fired me. Now I have to live with the homeless gang, but they’re alright I guess. Our union’s been going good, we have a logo now, but the situation still doesn’t sit right with me

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

It's crazy how cringe Arcane S2 Viktor is. He's a Machine Herald without the "machine". It's just like calling Mordekaiser as the "Iron Revenant", and taking away the "revenant". It makes no sense at all, and destroys the whole character. It's like making Jhin with his face visible, when everything that makes Jhin himself is the anonymity of his face.

Suffice to say, I'm disappointed, and if they choose to make Arcane Viktor as the in-game one with the VGU & Rework, I'll quit playing Viktor. I don't want to play as another corrupt mage like Brand or Xerath. I want to play as a cyborg man from Zaun. Closest we have is Urgot, but even then, he's not a ranged character. Camille? Again, close range character, and from Piltover. And they're not quite the same as Viktor, who is fully set on prosthetics, and helping people, and being a scientist who builds golems.

It's like Viktor will become a completely different character, and I'll continue to prefer his current LoR version as the in-game canon since I love that version of him right now. Welp, guess the only place where we can play as his original version will be LoR. Such a shame.

The whole plotline of "Piltover-Zaun becoming one against Viktor's and Noxus' armies" makes me cringe so hard, you have no idea. Weren't we supposed to have an animation series about Piltover and Zaun? When did it become about "Noxus vs Piltover and Zaun"? But I liked Jayce. He's become Giga Chad, basically. Sure, doesn't fit his S1 character, but which character stayed loyal to their S1 versions? I didn't like S1 too because it didn't set up the base for Viktor becoming the Machine Herald at all (not into robotics, no comment on human emotions, etc.), or for Jayce to be an arrogant guy who's very hard to work with. No, instead we had their "better" versions. It makes me so angry. 😭 I'm not even starting with what kind of abomination they've turned WW into. He's supposed to talk. Not act like an animal %90 of the time and just speak one word the whole season.

Swain crows and Mel allying with LeBlanc was cool, ngl. Doesn't make a lot of sense as to why Swain doesn't move a finger to stop Ambessa and her army whatsoever, but whatever. Also what was the "subtle foreshadowing" they did on the last episode? Geez.

Ambessa fighting scene is literally what happens in every movie: the guys who are shooting all the time suddenly stop and let the main character(s) kill them. What a classic.

Betrayal wasn't expected but didn't surprise me.

Viktor model is just outright cringe. Mask looks ridiculous. Hair looks ridiculous. Cane? A whole another level of ridiculous. Voice not at all Machine Herald's. Human face still visible under Reddit Upvote button, disgusting. Halo of runes(?) behind his head, forced Biblical stuff. Has magical husk slaves like Evelynn in LoR who has the ability to fly and infect, apparently. SUS. He also has gone to the full "people shouldn't have control" mind-set, which I don't appreciate since even the Convergence Comic Viktor at the start was hating the cult, blaming them for twisting his ideology for their own sick beliefs. His third arm just looks like a horrid monster from S.O.M.A. game, but in a really bad way. Also wow, Viktor now apparently has the power to telekinesis.

Wow, apparently Caitlyn is such a powerful and lucky(!) character that she can fight while being stabbed by a dagger. Wow. Not plot-armor at all.

I appreciated how Ambessa's men literally do nothing to help their commander, which should have happened since Noxians use any and all means necessary to win. They used Singed's chemical weapons during the invasion of Ionia. Guess they forgot about their own principle: "Guile" 💀

WW can teleport now?! Wtf. Also impenetrable skin. They're really going for that "Shuriman Ascended WW", huh? Everyone can fly now, apparently.

Wow, galactic god Viktor. So cringe. Old Viktor. Viktor paradox. How worse could it have been?

Aaand, "happy" ending because why not. 💀

Jinx using herself as a bullet? Now that's a first. Was Jinx's death supposed to be sad? Sorry, I was cringing over every other thing wrong with the act that I couldn't find it in myself to feel bad.

What I didn't understand is how did Orinna came to be??? Hello??? Can we get an explanation please??? Because she's not the Orianna we know at all.

NOOO THEY'LL DESTROY NOXUS NEXT!!! NOOOOO 😭😭😭

^^^ it's over.

Orianna got injected with Viktor's and Warwick's blood I guess, so now she has 3 dads!

[mythalism]

I love everything that you write and I wanted to bring this up with you. I feel like if we had seen the actual moment (at least in one of the regrets) of Mythal’s death, it would have been so impactful. It’s something that Solas talks about constantly and that he feels responsible for and I feel like it would have been a huge moment for the player to see in the story. I dunno. Just ranting. Thoughts?

thank you anon 🥺 i would love to yap about this with you… i think you are totally right that seeing mythal’s death would have been really powerful. i COULD be amenable to an argument that keeping it off screen adds to the drama and tension and the way mythal haunts the narrative…. IF that was their intention… but i don’t think it was lol i think it was probably another victim of the messy development.

mythal so thoroughly haunts the narrative and the lighthouse itself… i think if they leaned into that and we ONLY saw her through solas’s pov in murals, keeping the mystery of her murder off-screen would make sense. but considering we literally get to talk to her, she has enough of an on-screen presence that maintaining that sense of separation is already a lost cause. we also know mythal on some level through flemeth, who has literally ranted about mythal’s death!!! “she was betrayed as i was betrayed”!!!! i think it would have been a nice climax of flemethyal’s arc to see that betrayal or at least hear about it.

i totally agree that it would have humanized solas further and i think that would’ve been nice to see, especially how his complicated grief for her was the catalyst/final straw against the evanuris of the veil going up. he also does actually talk about her murder several times, and we know it happens with THE DAGGER so it feels like it would’ve made sense to elaborate on how it happened more, and the fact that it’s his dagger, that she told him to make, that he used to tranquilize the titans, that he carries with him still, that he is so attached to and obsessed with, THAT DAGGER that did it!? it would have served as a really nice metaphor for his attachment to his grief and regret and the precious world, manifested physically in this dagger that also KILLED MYTHAL (and Varric now too!!)

he actually brings up what im assuming is her death when you ask him about blood magic (lol a lot to unpack here but that’s for another time) and honestly idk what to make of his convo because the way he speaks about it is very detached which i find interesting. obviously this might not be about Mythal but the implication that the dagger used was made via blood magic and sacrifice and “I suppose it depends upon the dagger" is suspicious to me….

anyway, i think who would’ve really benefitted most from us seeing mythal’s murder is ELGAR’NAN!!!!!! HELLO!?!?!? HE MURDERED HIS WIFE AND ITS ONLY MENTIONED ONCE WHEN HE AND SOLAS ARGUE!?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK????? the fact that mythal and elgar’nans relationship is nearly nonexistent is one of veilguard’s biggest sins to me. it should have been a huge part of the main story. they are literally THE SUN AND THE MOON. THEY ARE THE ALL MOTHER AND ALL FATHER OF ALL ELVES?????????? and he betrays and murders her and stabs her in the stomach. and literally no one talks about it ever it just doesn’t come up except for like 2 lines. elgarnan was such a one dimensional villain with no motivations (being a naturally evil spirit of tyranny doesn’t count and it’s boring) and no attachments and he feels completely inhuman as a result. like literally he’s just evil and that’s it and it’s so boring. we could have had such an interesting exploration of love and betrayal and how power corrupts and what it must’ve been like to be basically Elven Adam and Eve and a jealous man’s resentment culminating in violence and how mythal’s closeness to solas impacted her relationship with elgarnan like it could have been SO INTERESTING. and yeah. seeing her murder would’ve been a logical conclusion to a lot of build up. put it on the list of things we lost i guess 😔

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze. You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.

[yandere-paramour]

So Noelle, being to a degree emotionally reliant on knowing that darling is safe and that her apartment is a sanctuary. How is she handling having that mental construct violated? Like say for example there's a break in and the apartment is robbed, darling isn't hurt or anything just that perception of having a safe secure place violated in some way. c:

GREAT Question, I was excited to answer this one.

First, let's explore the logistics of this. By the nature of her wealth and status, Atalanta has a trusted and experienced security team to protect her at all times. Since she was hired, Noelle has had security around her too, both because Ata likes her and because she is a potential risk. If Noelle is kidnapped and tortured for information, Montclair secrets could come out and that's a huge problem. So there is at least 1 security guard following Noelle around/Guarding her apartment at all times. A potential intruder would have to break into the building, get in the elevator, somehow know the apartment number, get past the guard, and then get into the locks. Noelle is no fool, she has taken precautions to protect both herself and Darling.

If someone managed to do all that, Noelle would be downright hysterical. Like she would have a mental breakdown, and Darling isn't even hurt in this scenario. If Darling was hurt, she might go on a rampage. For now, she is able to tone it down to just a simple mental breakdown.

You have never seen Noelle like this, and you will never see it again. In fact, very very few people have seen Noelle like this (Odette, her mom, and a few stepfathers). Noelle is a very, very calm person. She doesn't raise her voice or show any extreme emotions. You could be psychotic and she would calm you down slowly and gently, wrap you in a blanket, and hold you close as you slept.

But this is more than she can handle. This is violating her sacred space. She has carved out one space in the entire fucking world and some jackass has fucking defiled it? She can't have one damn thing? What did she fucking do in her past life to deserve all this?

You're not fucking staying here tonight. Noelle sends you with a security guard to a hotel room Atalanta arranged; she'll catch up later tonight. She has to do something first. You can try to protest but she's not in the fucking mood and you are going to listen and go. She's actually a little scary, she always speaks kindly to you.

You wait anxiously in the hotel for Noelle to come back for about 2 hours. When she finally comes, she is back to her normal loving, doting self, stroking your hair and lamenting about how scared you must've been and how brave you were and how she is so thankful you are safe and sound. She brought your favorite stuffed animal and some clothes for the two of you. She seems the same, only a little sweaty. After she showers, she cuddles you to sleep, then gets up to get her laptop and try to rebuild your lives.

The next day, Noelle allows you (after a lot of begging and pleading on your end) to go get some more essentials. When you get back through the kicked-in door, you are shocked. The place looks much, much worse than it did when you saw it last. The expensive glass vases and trinkets Noelle decorates with are shattered on the ground, the paintings clawed, the TV seemingly kicked in. The place looks ransacked, and your mouth drops open. You know Noelle would never be negligent enough to not leave someone to watch the door, and nothing sentimental seems hurt. All of your possessions are safely intact and pristine. Only... only the expensive things are destroyed... only the things that can be replaced.

"What-" You don't even know what to say, "What happened here?"

"What do you mean, Darling?" Noelle cocks her head at you, confused, "The burglars did this; it was like this when you left."

"No-"

"You're mistaken, my love. This must be such a great shock to you. Let's get your things and we can go back to the hotel room and rest. I'll even order some of those cookies you like."

[quitealotofsodapop]

The moment Peaches placed his hand on the waterfall at the prompting of his second father, he felt something surge through him. Something powerful and... familiar. Like a warm bowl of noodles on a cold winter day but more. A bright flash if light had him instinctively flinch, closing his eyes to the brightness. He heard several gasps of shock and excitement coming from his family, his brother and Tang sounding particularly excited. When he opened his eyes once more, the wall of wafer had changed.

Where once stood a waterfall blocked any and all passagenow stood a cavern cutting the falls in two of sorts creating an opening within the roar of the falls and a passageway within. Peaches stumbled forward in awe, taking in the new bridge and pathways, feeling the same pull that had been guiding him ever since he ans his family had first washed up on the beach after an unfortunate encounter with the lava fields and a short skirmish with the Demon Bull King's wife that had left the ship damaged beyond repair. Broken pillars and archways covered in vines and dirt guided him.

He was only jostled from his trance like state when his little brother, impatient as ever, had run ahead and accidentally bumbed against him. Even then the sounds of his parents yelling after MK seemed almost muffled as he stumbled a bit to regain his balance. As if being in this place was affecting Peaches in some way. It was only when he heard MK's hurried cry for them to get over to where he'd run off to as soon as possible that Peaches managed to shake the strange state be was in off.

With a glance to his parents, he too ran ahead to see what had his little brother so worried. As he turned the corner, the rest of their family hot on his tail, he froze. Mei barely stopped herself from bowling him over, or more likely being slammed into him and injuring herself as multiple stances have told her before that running into him at full speed would rarely male him budge, before he heard her mutter in awe.

"Oh my gods..."

That about summer up Peaches' thoughts as he looked over at the wall his brother was shakily pointing and stammering at, jaw dropped. Or rather... the faded and damaged mural on it. It was a group he knew form storybooks and movies, a monk upon a white horse, a pig holding a rake, and a fish with a shovel. The Great Monk Sazang Tang, also known as Tripitaka, and the Pilgrims of the Journey to the West. And at the top of the mural, standing triumphantly with staff in hand and bathed in golden light, was the msot famous pilgrim of all. The Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven himself, Sun Wukong.

What had MK and Mei so starstruck however, was the Great Sage's uncanny resemblance to Peaches himself. Looking up at the faded image, it was almost as if he were looking into a mirror. A very old, somewhat damaged mirror. Peaches suddenly felt dread fill him as he considered everything that's happened in the past 24 hours. The release of the Demon Bull King, how he and his family seemed to confuse Peaches for their sworn enemy, the Monkey King's staff fitting in his hand with the familiarity of an old friend, the monkies excitement and insistence on calling him their King as they led him and his family to the waterfall...

It all made sense now. Peaches approached the mural slowly, fear building up in his breast as he recalled everything he knew of the story. Recategorizing it and comparing it to himself. And it made sense.

Sun Wukong was a monkey demon born of stone, Peaches and MK cannot swim without aid because every time they tried they would sink to the bottom with no explanation for why they seemed to have the buoyancy of a brick. Sun Wukong was the strongest demon to ever live, before Uncle Sandy started teaching him martial arts and meditation Peaches would often break things without meaning to and had little control over his own inner strength to the point he once ripped a fridge door on its hinges. Sun Wukong was immortal, Peaches didn't seem to age at all.

Peaches turned to look at his fathers, silently begging them to say something, anything, to disprove what they were seeing. That this can't possibly be true! He was... he was just PEACHES! The worried look in Pigsy's eyes and knowing, excited one in Tang's glasses told him that he wouldn't find reprieve. It was obvious for everyone here that Peaches, nerdy little Peaches, had some connection to Sun Wukong.

YES!!!

Link to an art you did of this scene a while back!

I love the little details to movement you add to your writing (MK rushing forward, Mei almost bowling over Peaches, etc).

Sandy's poor ship. Hopefully its just cosmetic damage, the cats aren't gonna like being stranded on a beach for too long! Unless he dropped them off with a sitter before setting out.

The whole family being there to see Peaches enter the cave for the "first" time - and seeing the mural of Sun Wukong on the wall. A very familar face staring right back at them.

Poor Peaches being in denial as he mentally connects the dots with details from his and MK's lives.

He probably feels very nauseous.