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fictionally-driven · 3 days

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Bruises and Blossoms

Pairing: Jiyan x f! Midnight Rangers reader Word count: 3165 words Trigger warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, violence, mentions of death. Plot: Jiyan is gravely injured and saved by the resilient and resourceful field medic, (Y/N), whose unwavering dedication and quick thinking catch his eye amidst the chaos of war.

Author Note: I have been writing fics about WuWa characters developing feelings for someone. I could not help but indulge in this after playing WuWa from the past few days. If you liked it, then reblogs are appreciated, Thank you!

The battlefield was a symphony of chaos, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of smoke. Tacet Discords, their dark forms swirling like a malevolent storm, descended upon them. Jiyan led his troops into the fray against the looming threat to Jinzhou and Huanglong. His blade cut through the fog on the enemy with lethal precision.

But the Tacet Discords were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless as they swarmed over the battlefield. It felt like an other outbreak was on the verge of breaking through and Jiyan was resolved to quell it before it got to that point. Jiyan fought with all his strength, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he pushed himself beyond his limits to protect his troops from the brunt of the attacks.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos, a joint attack from the Crownless and the Tempest Memphis caught Jiyan off guard. Despite his best efforts, he found himself overwhelmed, his vision blurring as pain seared through his body. Blood filled Jiyan's mouth as he struggled to maintain his footing, his ears ringing with the clamor of battle. But even in the midst of his pain, he refused to yield, his determination unwavering as he faced his enemies head-on. Slaying the crownless, Jiyan collapsed to his knees, trying to catch his breath and recover. Black spots emerged in his vision and he shook his head, trying to remain focused. Amidst the chaos, a familiar voice cut through the din, pulling him back from the brink of darkness.

An on-field medic approached at Jiyan's side "General! focus on me," she urged, her voice firm yet comforting as she assessed his injuries. Her hands moving with practiced precision as she tended to his injuries with the supplies she was carrying. "Let me patch you up."

But Jiyan, his resolve as strong as ever, swatted her hand away. He insisted that he was fine, his voice strained with pain. "There are others who need your help more than I do," he protested, his gaze flickering with concern for his troops. “I’ll be alright.”

Yet the medic, undeterred by Jiyan's protests, remained steadfast in her resolve. "You need medical attention, General," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Let me do my job."

"I'm not leaving you like this," She retorted, her tone firm as she continued to patch up Jiyan's injuries. "No man left behind, remember?"

As she outlined Jiyan's injuries in her terminal, recording and transmitting the message to the infirmary, she detailed the extent of his wounds. "He's broken his arm, sustained a deep femoral artery laceration, and has multiple contusions and abrasions," she reported, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "We'll need a transfusion and surgical intervention."

With practiced efficiency, she stabilized Jiyan's broken arm, carefully wrapping it in a makeshift splint to prevent further injury after removing his signature midnight green gardebras. Administering pain medication, she sought to alleviate his discomfort, her hands moving with gentle precision as she worked.

As she wrapped a tourniquet around his open wound to stem the bleeding, she barked commands to the surrounding troops, directing them to cover their path back to the infirmary. "We need a clear path, now!" She pointed to two soldiers. “You two. Cover for me and the general till we make it to the infirmary. Take defense positions at the back.” She then points to another soldier beside them. “You take the front. What? Do I look like I have sprouted two horns? Move. Now!” With Jiyan's uninjured arm draped around her, she lifted the general up, staggering a bit due to his weight before stabilizing herself.

Despite his delirium from the pain and blood loss, Jiyan couldn't help but notice the warmth of her presence, her lively nature. "You're like a whirlwind, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice laced with admiration as she dragged him towards the relative safety of the infirmary.

Despite the chaos and confusion of the battlefield, Jiyan finds himself drawn to the medic at his side. Was she glowing? He couldn't help but wonder as he struggled to keep up with her brisk pace. How could someone be so beautiful, almost amidst the carnage of war? Though the scent of blood and smoke filled his senses, he could still smell was the antiseptic and medicines that she had used on him, comforting him. As she dragged him towards the infirmary, Jiyan weakly protested against her, insisting that he would be fine. She seemingly ignored his words, only to focus on the task at hand. And in that moment, as he clung to her for support, Jiyan knew that he was in good hands.

Inside the infirmary, the harsh lights made everything seem too bright and painful. Jiyan was gently lowered onto the bed, his muscles screaming in protest with each movement. Through bleary eyes, he watched as the medic busied herself. Jiyan’s eyes fixed on her, noting the blood, his blood, smeared on her skin and on her clavicle. He noticed the small injuries that marred her too. Her hair, disheveled from the chaos, fell out of place from its tie, framing her face. With his uninjured hand, he reached out and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “You are injured too. Make sure to get it patched.”

She glanced at him, a mix of frustration and tenderness in her eyes. "You need to rest, General," she admonished, her voice soft yet firm. "Let us handle the battlefield for now. Your troops need you to recover."

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his vision blurring again. "You... you're quite something," he murmured, his voice trailing off. “What is your name, soldier?”

She stood up, her expression softening as she looked down at him. "And you're quite stubborn," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Take care and recover soon. Your troops have got this, and you need to focus on resting." She wiped his blood off her using a few wet wipes as more medics gathered to tend to the general. “My name is (Y/N).” She said, as the medics began working on treating him.

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "Thank you, (Y/N)." he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"You're welcome," she replied, still smiling. “Let the medics tend to you. I’ll be off now.”

As she turned to leave, her figure was haloed by the harsh light, making her seem almost ethereal. Jiyan watched her go, the scent of antiseptic and the warmth of her presence lingering even as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Days had passed since the chaotic battle, and Jiyan, who transferred to the hospital in Jinzhou city was gradually recovering. His body, still wrapped in bandages and dressings, bore the marks of the intense skirmish. His broken arm was securely cast, the deep laceration on his hip stitched and bandaged, and the myriad of contusions and abrasions were cleaned and dressed. The medics had done their job well, but amidst their care, Jiyan's mind lingered on one thought: the medic who had saved him.

(Y/N), she had said her name was. She hadn't served directly under him before, always stationed at a distant outpost. The recent upheavals had brought many changes to their forces, including her reassignment to the Northern border of Huanglong. He'd learned through her records that she was exemplary, her combat skills and medical background making her a perfect fit for an on-field medic. Jiyan knew he needed to thank her, not just for her skillful treatment, but for her unwavering determination to save his life.

Her image was etched into his mind: her firm yet gentle hands tending to his wounds, her unwavering resolve, and that fleeting moment when he had tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Despite the pain and blood loss, he remembered the warmth of her presence

The Tacet Discord outbreak from that fateful day had been contained, though at a grave cost. Several lives had been lost, each one a heavy burden on Jiyan's heart. As he regained his strength, he prepared himself for a somber duty he never neglected: honoring the fallen. With a pouch of Emortia seeds in his hand, Jiyan made his way to Knell Square, the hallowed ground where he planted these seeds to commemorate the soldiers who had perished in battle.

Stepping out into the streets of Jinzhou, Jiyan felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. The city was alive with activity, but he sought solace in the quieter parts. His path took him away from the bustling marketplace, past the familiar landmarks of the city, and towards Knell Square.

As Jiyan approached the square, the familiar sight of Emortia flowers greeted him, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. He paused for a moment, taking in the serenity of the scene, his heart heavy with the names and faces of the comrades he had lost. But then, his gaze caught sight of a solitary figure standing by the flower bed, lost in thought.

(Y/N) stood there, her posture relaxed yet somehow somber. She seemed absorbed in the sight of the flowers; her eyes distant as if she were communing with the spirits of those who had passed. The soft light of the late afternoon cast a gentle glow on her, highlighting the subtle strength and grace that had left such an impression on him.

Jiyan's heart skipped a beat as he watched her. He hadn't expected to run into her here, and the sight of her brought back a flood of memories from the battlefield. He wondered what she was thinking about, what memories or emotions had drawn her to this quiet place. He took a moment to observe her, the way her eyes seemed to soften as she looked at the flowers, the way her hands gently brushed against the petals. He cleared his throat, stepping beside her. "I didn’t expect to run into you in Jinzhou."

(Y/N) turned to him, a gentle smile forming on her lips. "General Jiyan," she greeted, her voice soft. “I see that you are recovering quickly.” She turned back to the flowers. “I was here to collect some personal supplies and stopped by to admire these flowers. They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?”

Jiyan nodded, stepping closer to stand beside her. "They do. Each one represents a life, a sacrifice. It's a way for me to remember and honor them. I plant these seeds for the rangers who lost their lives." he said quietly.

She looked back at the flowers; her expression thoughtful. "These flowers... they carry so many memories…”

There was a moment of silence between them, the weight of their shared losses hanging in the air. Jiyan took a deep breath, summoning the words he had been wanting to say. "Thank you," he began, his voice earnest. "For saving me that day. I owe you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) waved a hand dismissively, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "I was just doing my duty, General. But next time, let me do my job without fighting back.” There was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You of all people should know that without a general, the army would have fallen into disarray."

Jiyan felt a pang of sheepishness at her words, but he nodded in acknowledgment. "You're right," he admitted. "I was stubborn. But so were you. Your quick thinking and actions saved me. Your efforts will be formally acknowledged."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "No need for formalities, General. Knowing that you're alive and well is enough for me. I don't want praise," (Y/N) said, her voice firm yet soft. "I didn't do it for the recognition. I did it because it's my duty, and I want to be more efficient in that duty. I could have saved more lives that day if I was better."

Jiyan nodded slowly. "I do. It's a heavy burden, knowing lives depend on your actions. But that's also what makes it so important."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition flashing in them. "That's right. You were a medic before you became a general. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Jiyan smiled faintly. "It's not something I talk about often, but it's a part of who I am."

She gave him an incredulous look, almost looking offended. “You, of all people, should know better than to resist treatment on the battlefield! Next time, I'll tie you up if I have to."

A chuckle escaped Jiyan before he could stop it, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise. "Something the matter?" he asked, bemused.

She shook her head, a look of astonishment on her face. "I don't think I've ever heard you chuckle before," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "It suits you more than your usual frown and scowl."

Jiyan was momentarily stunned by her words. He wasn't used to such candid observations about his demeanor. "I suppose I should thank you for that," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

(Y/N) returned his smile, her gaze focused on the sky for a moment, "I'll leave you to your moment with the flowers, General," she said, stepping back to give him space.

As she began to walk away, Jiyan found himself not wanting her to leave just yet. "Wait," he called after her, his voice catching slightly. "Would you... would you help me plant these seeds?"

(Y/N) turned back, her smile widening as she walked back to him. "Of course, General. I'd be honored."

They knelt together by the flower bed, the pouch of Emortia seeds in Jiyan's hand. He handed a few seeds to (Y/N), their fingers brushing lightly. Together, they dug small holes in the soil, carefully placing the seeds within.

"Each seed represents a life," Jiyan said quietly, his voice filled with reverence. "A sacrifice that must never be forgotten."

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes reflecting the same solemn respect. "And each flower that blooms is a reminder of their bravery and our duty to honor them."

They worked in silence for a while, the act of planting the seeds almost meditative. The gentle rustling of the flowers and the distant sounds of the city created a peaceful backdrop to their task.

As they finished planting the last of the seeds, Jiyan looked at (Y/N), admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For everything."

(Y/N) smiled, her lively spirit shining through once more. "You're welcome, General. And thank you for your service. We all rely on your strength and leadership."

With the seeds planted, they stood together, taking a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of Knell Square. The Emortia flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate petals a symbol of hope and remembrance.

"I should be going," (Y/N) said softly. "But if you ever need someone to tie you down for treatment again, you know where to find me, General."

Jiyan chuckled, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. “And please, call me Jiyan.”

“Jiyan…” She repeated, nodding at him. “Alright then, I’ll do just that.”

As (Y/N) repeated his name, a warm feeling spread through his chest. He didn't want her to leave just yet. There was something about her presence that he found comforting, something that made him want to know more about her.

He recalled Mortefi's words, a dear friend who often chided him for being too stoic and reserved. "You need to put yourself out there, Jiyan. Go on dates, meet new people, relax a little. Stop being a tragic brooding hero all the damn time and go live your life."

Jiyan had never thought he desired companionship. After all, the Jué had entrusted him with a duty, a responsibility that he had always taken seriously. But this woman, (Y/N), had come out of nowhere, stirring feelings within him that he had never felt before. It made him yearn for more and all he wanted was to be the subject of her attention at the moment.

Summoning his courage, Jiyan hesitated for a moment before calling out to her, his voice slightly awkward. "Um, (Y/N), wait!"

She turned back, a curious expression on her face as she regarded him. Jiyan stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. At this very moment, he felt as if he would rather fight a horde of the Crownless than speak his mind. "I, uh, I was wondering if... if it would be alright for us to, um, go out for a nice dinner? And maybe catch a lion dance performance after?"

(Y/N) turned back, a slight smile playing on her lips as she observed Jiyan's flustered state. "Are you asking me out on a date, General?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jiyan hesitated, first blurting out. “N-no…that’s...” He immediately corrected himself. "I... uh... yes, I suppose I am," he admitted, his voice slightly uncertain. "If... if that's not out of line, I mean. I'm sorry, I should probably let you be..."

(Y/N) giggled, the sound light and musical, easing some of Jiyan's anxiety. "It's endearing to see the General so flustered," she said, her tone gentle and kind. “I’d like to see more of this side of yours, Jiyan.” She met his gaze, still amused. “So yes, I'd like to go on this date if you're still up for it."

Relief flooded through Jiyan, mingled with a newfound sense of excitement. He hadn't expected her to say yes, but now that she had, he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. “Yes. It... Its settled then.”

(Y/N) nodded, her smile warm and inviting. "Alright then, Jiyan. When and where?"

Jiyan thought for a moment, his mind racing. "There's a lovely restaurant near the theatre. How about we meet there at seven tonight or is that too soon...?"

"Seven sounds perfect," she agreed. "I'll see you then."

As they exchanged contact information on their terminals, Jiyan's heart thudded in his chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He watched as (Y/N) took off, her graceful form moving with purpose, and he couldn't help but admire her even more. With a final wave and a cheerful reminder to take care, she disappeared into the bustling city streets, leaving Jiyan standing there with a smile playing on his lips.

His gaze lingered on the spot where she had vanished, the memory of her infectious laughter and warm smile etched into his mind. For a moment, he placed his uninjured hand on top of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm. Yes, even he, General Jiyan, renowned for his stoicism and unwavering dedication to duty, found himself looking forward to tonight and the possibility of many more nights spent in (Y/N)'s company.

WuWa Masterlist

#lina writes #wuthering waves fic #wuthering waves fanfic #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #jiyan #wuwa jiyan #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan x reader #jiyan wuwa #wuwa #jiyan oneshot #wuwa fanfic #jiyan fanfic

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 days

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okay so idk what meta is but listen THE DIRECTION ON DEAD BOY DETECTIVES IS FUCKING SUPERB. UNRIVALLED. AND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT TO THE HELLSITE VOID. SO LISTEN.

transitions. between scenes. it's so easy to cross-fade, or just hard cut, or fade to black and then open the next scene. sometimes, if a piece of media is putting in a bit of effort, you'll see things like water transitioning to sky or maybe a background being continuous while the characters change or vice versa.

but dead boy detectives. the transitions are fucking flawless. and so creative, like everything about this show. creative transitions are difficult to do, and they keep getting it right. whether it's someone holding up a circle and that melds into the next scene where the railing has a circle in it, or the camera moving downwards from the floor in one location to under a table in a different location, or them falling out of mirrors, they take the tiniest of elements and turn them into transitions so fucking deliciously, and everything is so dynamic, both the camera and the scene.

and that makes it so much more impactful when there IS a hard cut. like in episode 5 (where the You Know What occurs with Jenny). the cut from the mascot at the high school scene to the butcher's shop is BRUTALLY hard, with Jenny again slicing into things with her meat cleaver, and it lends an extra air of violence to that meat cleaver--which is such great foreshadowing for what happens later (even the initial establishing shot of the butcher's shop at the start of the episode makes the cleaver in the sign flash red, drawing attention to it).

the direction helps the narrative so much, giving both atmosphere and foreshadowing without needing to fatten the dialogue with it.

and apart from all that just the general camerawork is so creative and helps with the campy feel of the show, with characters being bang in the middle of frames or with the camera holding a lovely shot for longer than a beat like Edwin and Niko cocking their heads to the side it's all such a lovely, choreographed dance between the camera, the actors, the set and the script and NGKKK.

#dbda #dbdshow #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives netflix #dbda meta #dead boy detectives #camera work #film and tv transitions #foreshadowing #weirdly specific but ok #asmi

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marvelmusing · 2 days

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Thirst Tweets

part of the Q&A Universe

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader (Actors AU)

Summary: With Aleksander and Alina by your side, you suffer through the mortifying ordeal of reading thirst tweets to promote your new film.

Warnings [18+]: discussions of sex, thirst tweets, mentions of filming intimate scenes, hair pulling

Part One • My Masterlist

“So, in front of each of you is a pot filled with tweets about one of your costars,” the producer explains as the people behind the camera make their final preparations before starting filming.

“Who’ve I got…?” you muse, spinning the pot so that you can see the label on the front of it. “Oh, Aleksander.” Frowning, you lean to look at the other two pots on either side of you. “Who has me?”

Alina turns her pot and the two of you lean closer to read the label.

“I do.”

“Then Sasha has Alina’s,” you conclude as Alina settles back in her chair.

He tilts his pot slightly, eyes narrowing as he checks his own label. Then he nods.

“Yes,” he confirms.

“Okay,” the producer says with a smile. “Once we start filming, there’ll be just a quick introduction and then we’ll jump right into it.”

“Quick question,” you say, which has both Aleksander and Alina turning to look at you. “Are these tweets the dirty kind or the weird kind?”

The producer blinks at you, tilting her head aside in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I’ve seen these sort of videos before, and sometimes they’re more funny than filthy, and I was just wondering what kind of video ours is going to be.”

“I think we should just find out,” Alina remarks with a grin, already peering down into her pot filled with tweets about you.

“I’d prefer to be prepared,” you reason.

“As would I,” Aleksander agrees. Alina huffs, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Why don’t I go first and test the waters for you?”

You nod.

“Alright.”

The producer retreats behind the camera, giving you a small countdown before filming begins. Clearing your throat, you straighten in your seat, smoothing down your clothes to ensure you’re presentable. Aleksander nudges his elbow against yours, bringing your eyes to his, and he gives you a soft reassuring smile.

Then filming begins.

“I’m Alina Starkova.”

She tilts her head at you, prompting you to introduce yourself as well. Once you do, you turn to Aleksander.

“I’m Aleksander Morozov, and today we are reading thirst tweets.”

Alina wastes no time, rummaging through the pieces of card in the pot in front of her. Knowing she’s about to read something about you out loud has you tapping your foot nervously. Aleksander loops his pinkie around yours, giving it a gentle squeeze which makes you smile at him.

“It’s this photo of you,” Alina announces, once she’s made her selection.

She turns the piece of card around so that you and Aleksander can see. The image is a screen-cap from the film, where your character is sitting on a window seat wearing her nightdress, the early morning sun glowing behind her. When Alina turns the card back around, her brows scrunch together as she reads the rest of the tweet.

“Just me on my knees for this goddess.”

“That’s not too bad,” you reason, looking at Aleksander for his opinion. He nods, leaning further onto his elbow on the arm of his chair - the one closest to you.

“Quite the compliment really,” he adds in agreement. Alina laughs.

“Let me finish reading.” She reaches over to swat at your knee - bare due to the skirt you’re wearing - which makes you pout, feigning offence at her show of violence to ignore how your skin tingles at her touch. “Just me on my knees for this goddess. Let me get between those thighs, I want to drink her like a sweet summer wine.”

“Um, okay.”

She laughs again, raising a brow at your reaction.

“Okay?”

“Well what am I supposed to say?” You direct your gaze towards the camera. “Thank you.” Quickly, you turn to your left. “Aleksander, your turn now.”

He sighs. Reaching into his pot, he pulls out the first card he can get hold of. There’s a moment of anticipation, as his eyes scour over the words printed there. Then he says in the calmest, most neutral tone you’ve heard from him,

“I would do the most depraved things imaginable to have Alina Starkova’s tits in my mouth.”

A startled laugh gets caught in your throat as you clasp your hands over your face, your cheeks heating at the sound of Aleksander saying such things so casually. Alina laughs uncontrollably, her face flushed giddily as she slides down in her chair.

“I hope that goes in the video,” she says through her laughter. “Because I will immediately be setting that as my ringtone.”

“You along with half the people watching this,” you remark quietly.

Aleksander lowers the card, shooting a scandalised look at you both.

“You know you love us,” Alina teases, wiggling her fingers at him. Aleksander shakes his head with a soft laugh, attempting to hide his smile with faux disapproval.

“Brats, both of you.” He nudges your knee with his. “Your turn now.”

A pout puckers at your lips, and your features crinkling petulantly at the humiliating thought of reading out something horrifically dirty regarding Aleksander. Sensing your reluctance, Alina holds out her hand for you to take.

“I’ll hold your hand, baby.”

Her rings are cool against your skin as she curls her fingers around yours, and she presses her lips chastely to your knuckles, making an affectionate kiss sound as she does so. With your other hand, you reach for a card from the pot.

“It’s just this photo of you…” Turning the card around, you show them a candid image of Aleksander on set. “…and then it says-”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head.

“Go on,” Alina encourages you.

“I know his dick is big.”

Alina takes the card from you, examining the photo with an extreme level of focus which makes your cheeks burn even hotter. When you risk a glance at Aleksander, you find the tips of his ears are flushed pink despite the neutral expression he is maintaining on his face. His eyes meet yours and you look away quickly.

The weight of Aleksander’s hand on the back of your chair is the only thing you can focus on, alongside the blood rushing in your ears, as Alina picks up another card from the pot in front of her.

For the next half an hour, the three of you read out tweets until you’ve experienced enough embarrassment to keep you flustered for the rest of the afternoon. As you reach the end of filming, there are three cards left. The producer had explained earlier that all three of you would be the subject of these final tweets.

After some encouragement from the two of them, you go first.

“This just says that we’re the definition of bi panic.” That makes Alina laugh, reaching for her own card.

“I want all three of them to rearrange my insides.” Alina looks up at the camera with a coy smile. “Name a time and a place, sweetheart.”

She winks and Aleksander laughs softly, which makes your stomach flip. He picks up his own card, the final one for the video. He turns it over slowly, crossing his ankle over his knee as he reads.

His eyes remain fixed on the words there, reading them several times with flushed cheeks and parted lips, as he attempts to find his voice. He glances at you momentarily and the look on his face makes you squirm in your seat. When he catches Alina’s eye, she grins.

“This tweet is from Alina.”

That makes your jaw drop, your stomach plummeting simultaneously.

“What?”

“Go on Sasha,” she teases in a sing-song voice.

“I-” He falters, before he groans quietly through gritted teeth. “Alya,” he sighs. “This afternoon, I spent three hours in bed, between the two hottest people I’ve ever met. I get paid to lick her pretty thighs while he kisses her senseless. I have the best job in the world, argue with the wall.”

Alina laughs, clapping her hands together in gleeful applause while you and Aleksander you look at one another rather bashfully. Memories of filming with them both play over in your mind. The summer had been hot. The three of you had practiced one of the main intimacy scenes in the comfort of Aleksander’s trailer, with the chill of his air conditioning pebbling your nipples.

But there had been no such luxury during filming, when you were in costume - lace hemmed bloomers and a half undone corset. Sweat rolling down Alina’s calf, along Aleksander’s collarbone, glossing over your chest. The remembered heat of her mouth and his hands makes you ache even now.

Once filming is finished, the camera crew and producers exchange pleasantries with the three of you, before clearing out of the room and leaving you in peace.

Alina retrieves her bag from the side of the room, which had been placed out of sight of the cameras, setting it down on her chair. She pops her compact mirror open, checking over her makeup and you watch as she reapplies her lip gloss.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Aleksander concedes with a sigh. He rubs the back of his neck, tilting his head from side to side.

“I found it quite enjoyable,” Alina remarks teasingly, flashing you a smile that makes your stomach flip.

“Of course you did,” you argue, stretching your legs out as you cross your arms. “This was all your idea.”

“I think you enjoyed it too.” She smiles, leaning over to tap the end of your nose which makes you duck your head bashfully.

“No comment.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The next morning, you’re tackling a few interviews on your own. It feels strange without Aleksander or Alina by your side.

“This is your first film with any sort of intimate scenes,” the interviewer states.

“It is, yeah.”

“And I’d say some of the scenes are rather… intense. How was that?”

Her question makes you smile, thinking about how much work you and Aleksander put into your scenes. The memory of his hand in your hair, pulling your head back to reveal your throat for him makes you shift in your seat.

“Well, I was extremely lucky to have such incredible costars. Aleksander in particular was meticulous when it came to preparations. We would run through our lines together, and then walk through the scene, trying out different positions and reactions to see what worked best for us both. He knows the safest methods to pull hair which...” Heat spreads across your cheeks despite the smirk tugging at your lips. “…certainly came in handy for a few scenes.”

The interviewer smiles widely.

“I can imagine.”

Ducking your head slightly, you glance down at your painted fingernails as you smooth your hands over your trousers. It still makes you flustered, talking about the scenes you filmed with Aleksander and Alina.

“The film is based on a book,” she says.

You nod.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve recently been involved in recording a new version of the audiobook.”

That makes you smile.

“I have. I narrate the story and voice my character. Aleksander and Alina also voiced their own characters from the film, and I think Aleksander did a few background characters as well.”

“What was it like working with them again?”

“The whole experience was completely different from anything I’ve ever done before,” you admit. “The three of us were recording in the same room, so there was a really natural overlap between our voices in our scenes - which I love.”

Being in the recording booth with Aleksander and Alina was so much fun. At times, the sexual tension between your characters had made you squirm.

“I love full cast audiobooks, I think they’re so immersive and fun. We included some of the soundtrack from the film as well which adds a whole other layer to it. I feel like we’ve made something really special together.”

“Have you listened to it yet?”

The thought of listening to the audiobook, now fully edited with your voice describing the intimate scenes between your characters, while Aleksander and Alina moan and whisper sweet nothings and dirty promises through your headphones, makes you bite down on your lip to suppress a nervous laugh.

“Not yet, no. And I wouldn’t recommend listening to it in public. Especially chapter nineteen.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says with a small laugh. “Are you looking forward to the premiere? It’s your first one in a starring role.”

“It is, yeah. I’m excited - most definitely nervous as well - but at least I won’t be walking the red carpet alone.”

She raises a brow at you.

“Oh? Are you bringing a date?”

Heat rushes down through your body at the misunderstanding.

“Oh no, I meant Aleksander and Alina will be there too.”

She smiles.

“Will the premiere be the first time you see the film?”

“It will. I’ve seen a couple of clips and the trailer, but apart from that I’m going in blind.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21 Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird @kksbookstuff

#darklina x reader #aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov #darklina au #modern au #actors au #aleksander morozova x reader #alina starkov x reader #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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chaoticbiguysblog · 20 hours

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Y'all don't understand how bad Kristen Riedel is for this show and the characters, I need her gone like yesterday. The last two seasons she was the showrunner and all of the interpersonal relationships suffered greatly when she was in charge. Apart from one or two scenes, every character seemed so disconnected from each other, especially Eddie and Buck. And don't even get me started on the disgusting and UNDESERVED redemptions of all the shitty parents on the show.

In S7, atleast Tim took over and while I'm not exactly loving the direction his storylines have gone in or how they've been handled (example: Buck's bi storyline) I think he's okay, with a longer season, he can definitely take the show back to its glory days. Also he atleast promised us Buck-Eddie scenes every episode and boy did he deliver.

But Kristen Riedel again a huge part of the writing team, wrote two of the worst things in the show to spread her agenda or something. First the nun thing, which everyone laughed about bc of how out of place and ridiculous it was, but this season finale and Christopher's decision was just out of character. Not to mention, fitting for Riedel's "blood family above all" agenda. Like, do you expect me to believe that Chris would call his grandparents instead of Buck and LEAVE to live with them in another state?!! Ofc he's a kid, he's not rational but from a storytelling perspective, it's bad writing, despite having multiple opportunities, we didn't even get a will mention. They probably needed to write Gavin McHugh off the show but there's other ways to do that, it feels like doing irreparable damage to Eddie and Christopher's relationship for absolutely no reason. It feels like they were having a hard time writing for Eddie, so they hit a refresh button and I'm sure if Riedel stays, he'll be written as Buck 1.0 next season.

This woman doesn't understand the characters, doesn't seem to care for them and it's exhausting. After the horrendous S6 finale, I thought we wouldn't have to go through it again but alas.

#911 abc #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 spoilers #buck x eddie

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aroaessidhe · 2 days

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2024 reads / storygraph

The Sword of Kaigen

standalone fantasy set in a rural mountain village at the edge of an empire that still holds traditional values, with families of powerful water/ice magic warriors

follows a powerful young heir who begins to question his beliefs about the empire when a new boy comes to his village from the city

and his mother, a housewife who has tried to forget her youth as a warrior and vigilante in the city since she moved back home to a loveless marriage

when there’s a violent attack on their village that they’re unprepared for, everything changes, and she has to embrace her old skills to protect her family and people

#The Sword of Kaigen #aroaessidhe 2024 reads #I’ve been meaning to read this for years and I finally got around to it! a really unique fantasy novel #I had always assumed this was ur average pre-industrial high fantasy and then was immediately hit with video games/tv in the first chapter #lmao. But overall (aside from the broader worldbuilding/politics) it is closer to the average ‘historical’ fantasy narrative -#so I can see why I got that impression #Some really compelling characters and interesting narrative structure that went in some unexpected directions.#It really focuses in on one village and how devastating a single battle in a war can be to their people - and how much work the recovery is #I feel like most sff is more concerned with a single person and/or the whole war so this felt unique. did also mean that the pacing was odd #- it's a slow start; then there’s a battle that must be hundreds of pages. The last section of the book feels a little too drawn out #and brings up random hanging plot elements that don’t really go anywhere. But I think overall this works for the story.#also one thing I didn’t love - cool complex interesting female character MC sure but also there’s weird moments like:#the first scene we see her is all the housewives comparing their attractiveness; she keeps referring to herself as an old woman (when she’s #and oh so meek and useless etc. And some of this feels like it’s part of the broader portrayal of the misogynist society #but some of it felt clunky or unintentional?#And then especially the end - when she and her shitty husband finally confront each other as equals and he apologises #she basically immediately forgives him and is like oh I was equally at fault because I am a meek woman who didn’t try either #like him realising he was wrong (and her realising he had a reason for being the way he was) doesn’t negate the fact that he treated her li #she acts like it was her fault for not trying too - when we have numerous examples of him berating her if she spoke up about anything?#like im glad he’s learning. but also that doesn’t mean she needs to suddenly forgive and love him wtf #that's the only real thing that annoyed me though.#also btw that 5yo seems kinda fucked up. are you guys gonna do anything about that

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aemondsbabe · 2 days

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From Ashes, Fire | Claimant Pt 3

summary: dragons take what they want, you and your brother are no different. but what will be left to burn in the name of happiness?

pairing: dark!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, angst, angst but happy ending, very cersei/jaime coded moment that's all i'll say, major character death, noncanonical death, very brief descriptions of injury, blood, i promise it's nothing graphic, reader turns to the dark side lol, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), minor breeding kink, possessive aemond, possessive reader, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 8.3k oops

a/n: this is it, the grand finale! i had so much fun with this series and i hope y'all enjoy the last bit!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 and part 2 here!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

“Jaehaera, please,” Helaena’s voice is gentle and melodic even as she scolds her daughter, pointing at one of the straw-stuffed dolls in her tiny hands, “You must share with your brother; how about you let him play with the knight, hm?”

One of Maelor’s little fists wraps tightly around your pointer finger as you chuckle at the displeased frown on the toddler’s face when she shoves the doll in Jaehaerys’s direction, though her lips quickly lift into a smile at her mother’s praise.

“Good, that’s very sweet of you,” your sister smiles, watching her eldest two children play, sitting cross-legged beside them on the plush blanket she’d had spread out on the grass.

A cool breeze blows through the grassy field while you idly look around at the many red tents and campfires, observing the groups of people gathered around – knights sat at one of the many wooden tables, a few servants peel vegetables brought from the Keep, and various nobles, lady’s maids, and other court patrons shuffle about.

Taking a deep breath, you turn your face toward the sun, cooler now as day turns to evening, and savor the first moment of peace you’ve had in nearly a week. The days since your marriage to Jace have been… eventful, to say the least, with each new duty feeling like another stab to your already fragile heart. Respite hadn’t even found you in the night, each one spent fending off your new husband’s advances with excuses of your menstrual flux having come early, headaches, and various other ailments. He was getting anxious, you could tell – each night he pushed back a little more, arguing the importance of consummating the marriage, reminding you of the vows you had both uttered in the Sept.

But how can a vow mean much if the Gods know it was only ever a lie?

You had felt your mother’s eyes on you at every turn, watching you and your brother like a hawk. Though as the days progressed her fiery stare cooled to one of guilt – a penance for subjecting you to the same fate that had befallen her. You suspected that was why she and Rhaenyra had organized this little trip; a celebratory hunt they’d called it, to commemorate the rift between your two families finally being healed.

“Dear, dear wife,” your oldest brother slurs, goblet clutched in one hand as he staggers toward you and Helaena, groaning when he flops down on the bench next to you. “Oh, you look… ravishing,” your lips quirk up into a smirk as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, giggling and making faces at Maelor.

“What did I tell you,” your sister says through a huff of laughter, violet eyes finding yours, “They ignore you until they’re drunk.”

If only that were the case, you think as you force yourself to laugh in time with her.

“That is quite rude,” Aegon chastises, brows furrowed in offense while he takes a messy swig of wine, a few red drops run down his chin. “Do you see how she treats me?” He pouts, leaning closer to you with a wry grin, “The deed is done though, yes? Bastard knew where to put it?”

“Aegon!” Helaena hisses, swatting at his knee.

The two fall into a playful round of bickering, thankfully leaving you out of it. With a sigh, you let your gaze wander again, tumbling thoughts muffling your siblings voices.

“It’s not as hard as it looks, here,” Daemon’s voice catches your attention and you watch as he points a knife at the belly of a deer he and Lucerys had hunted earlier in the day, showing the boy where to cut, “Get your knife in there – good, like that, and now just cut downwards, one clean movement…” You glance away as blood spills from the beast’s abdomen, staining the grass below it.

Looking over the treeline, you try to ignore the sick feeling building in the pit of your stomach, though you know it won’t be settled until Aemond’s back at camp. Biting at your lip, you let out an irritated huff when you can’t make out any movement in the distance, no sign of your brother or Ser Criston, even your husband.

You’d only spoken to Aemond once since your marriage – a hushed conversation hidden away in an alcove when the two of you had a spare moment alone after supper. He’d held you while you’d cried against the crook of his neck, shushing you and running a soothing hand up and down your back. You remember the way his jaw felt, teeth clenched as he rested it atop your head, letting you tuck yourself into him while he vibrated with barely contained rage.

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” you lamented, peering up at him with a mournful sob as your fingers clung to the dark jacket he wore, “They’re planning on going back to Dragonstone! Dragonstone, Aem!”

“Shh, little one,” his hands had cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears with calloused thumbs, “I’m not letting them take you.”

His words had held such conviction, you’d wanted nothing more than to believe him, yet you’d shaken your head anyway. “I don’t think there’s any stopping them, this time,” your breath had hitched with each word, “You heard Rhaenyra, they’re leaving as soon as we’re back from the hunt and she would never agree to leave Jacaerys here, never.”

You had known you were spiraling, head spinning as you’d looked up at him, and yet the words tumbled out anyway. “I hate him, I wish he’d just… just disappear!” It was a childish little jab and yet, your heart had leapt into your throat the moment you’d said it. You were expecting to feel the clawing ache of guilt gnaw at your stomach, however, a weightlessness followed. You’d never felt lighter than in that moment – tucked away in the shadows, a secret you’d harbored since childhood finally set free.

Aemond had stayed quiet, but you saw the way his violet eye sparkled, the gears turning in his head.

Your words had echoed in his head, calling out to him like a siren’s song – the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Finally convinced that the three men are truly not just going to materialize at the edge of camp, your gaze shifts to where your mother and Rhaenyra sit, huddled together beside one of the many firepits. Bouncing little Maelor on your lap, you’re vaguely aware of Aegon and Helaena idly chatting beside you, something to do with how your brother believes some such thing about the Small Council is a waste of time – a frequent complaint of his since taking the throne.

You’re hardly listening though, head cocked to the side while you watch the two women laughing and animatedly conversing; they remind you of the young girls at court – youthful and carefree, too wrapped up in one another to notice much around them.

That’s why she let them go together, that shadowy voice in the back of your head hisses, Too distracted to know better. You clench your jaw, only halfway aware of the stinging pain at your cuticle as you dig a nail into it.

“What say you to accompanying me on a hunt, nephew?” Aemond had asked earlier in the afternoon, voice low as he slunk over to where you, Jace, and your mothers had been sitting at one of the wooden tables, picking through a light lunch the cooks at the Keep had prepared.

“Aemond,” Alicent had sighed wearily, leaning heavily on her elbows while Rhaenyra regarded your brother with a cool indifference – evidently unaware of your family’s tensions.

“What? I merely wish to bond with my dearest sister’s new husband.”

“Uncle,” Jace had finally spoken up, pointedly grasping one of your hands that had sat on the table, “As much as I would love to accompany you, don’t you think it a bit unwise for only the two of us to go? If I remember correctly from my youth, your father used to take a whole host of men into the woods with him…”

“Do you not think yourself man enough to take on a measly buck, nephew?”

“Aemond!”

“Don’t fret, mother. ‘Twas only a joke, a tasteless one, I admit,” your hackles had raised at that, at how quickly he had stood down, so wholly unlike your brother, “Besides, I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ser Criston to accompany us as well.”

It was then, at the mention of the knight, that Rhaenyra had leaned closer to Alicent, the two of them laughing softly and sharing knowing glances while your half-sister whispered into her ear.

“Surely the three of us are more than capable of subduing a deer or two, don’t you think?”

Jace had balked at that, sighing heavily as his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” you had coached your lips into a tight smile when you interjected, “Doesn’t that sound like a lovely idea, mother?”

“Hm?” She had blinked, finally parting from Rhaenyra, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“For Ser Criston to accompany Jace and Aemond, to go hunting with them.”

“Well, I –”

“Surely that would be safest, yes?” You pushed, glancing at Jace before locking eyes with Aemond, “A knight with them, a Kingsguard no less.”

“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Rhaenyra had smiled, squeezing one of your mother’s hands, “They should take the time to bond, no? Savor it while we’re together these last few days.”

“Yes… yes, a fine idea,” she had immediately agreed, always swaying to your half-sister.

“Wonderful,” your brother murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he clasped his arms behind his back, “I’ll have Ser Criston ready the horses.” With that, he had stalked away, giving you one final glance.

“You truly think this a good idea?” Your husband had questioned, turning to you while your mothers got lost in yet another hushed conversation.

“Of course!” You had nodded, clasping one of his hands in both of yours, “Aemond is… odd with his affections. This is just his way of attempting to rectify things, I’m sure of it.”

“I suppose…,” he had sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” you had urged, going so far as to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek, one of the scant few times you had initiated any affections.

Those words had echoed in your head while you watched the three men sheath their swords and load various bows and arrows onto their horses, the midday sun suddenly feeling much too warm against your skin.

It’ll be fine, you had reminded yourself for the millionth time when they set off, horses galloping along a narrow path that led into the Kingswood, He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

“Oh, shit,” Aegon whispers beside you, nearly dropping his goblet.

You quickly follow his eyeline, looking to where he stares at one of the small paths that lead into the camp – the sight wrenching a hitched gasp from your throat.

A hush seems to fall over the entirety of the camp, only for the quickest of seconds, before chaos erupts. Aemond stands before one of the horses, a grey one you recognize as Jace’s, steadying it while Criston pulls your husband from the saddle, smearing the side of the animal with thick streaks of red.

Daemon quickly runs over to assist while you hastily hand Maelor back to Helaena, hardly looking in her direction as you do.

“Jace? Jacaerys?!” Rhaenyra calls, picking up her skirts as she sprints over, violet eyes wide with terror, “What is it? What’s happened?”

Every noise sounds muffled when you make your way over to the huddle of commotion, Alicent following closely behind. A strange detached sensation fills you while you watch Criston and Daemon lay Jace down on a nearby bench, blood immediately soaking into the silk fabric of the pillows.

It feels as if everything is happening both too quickly and too slowly all at once – a few of the other knights rush forward, hastily pulling his tunic out of the way before pressing stark white medical linens to the gaping cut on his side. They bark orders over his body, yelling for the servants to bring water and more linens.

You feel your mother and Helaena grabbing at your arms and it’s only then you realize you’re shaking, swaying in place like a leaf on a branch; you know they’re talking to you but their words are dulled by the rushing of blood in your ears.

Somewhere in your periphery, you register the sound of Daemon’s voice, thick with desperation as he shouts question after question at Criston, “What happened? When? How? How long ago? How could you, you were supposed to protect him?!” They blend together, echoing through the haze in a roaring hum.

Distantly, you register the feel of another warm body pressing into the small pack you find yourself a part of. Helaena shushes someone next to you and your gaze tears itself away from the pools of crimson gathering on the grass just long enough to realize that it’s Luke. Your heart breaks at that, a sharp pang in your chest at the fact that the poor boy is distressed enough to seek comfort from your family, of all places.

“No! No, no, no!” Rhaenyra’s wails slice through the fog clouding your mind in such an exacting manner that your knees buckle, “Jace, Jace, look at me, please? Sweetling, please look at me!” She sobs, leaning over her son, one hand cradling his cheek.

Unseeing brown eyes stare, unblinking, up at the hazy orange sky while yours focus solely on a single, paralyzing flash of violet.

He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

The Sept is eerily quiet, normal for this time of night but unsettling all the same; the occasional fizzling noises of the dozens of flickering candles is the only way you’re able to discern that time hasn’t simply halted. Pale moonlight shines in through the windows, bathing the floor in a star-shaped pool of light and making the whites of the painted eyes resting atop Jace’s face glow like beacons.

You had picked out the stones and painted the eyes on them yourself, taking them from a spot in the gardens you knew he had favored when you were children and spent hours sourcing the pigments to make just the right shade of brown – one that reminded you of the rich chocolates that had been imported from Essos for your betrothal feast.

“A wife’s duty,” your mother had said.

Rhaenyra had glared at you the whole time; silently, you wondered if she somehow knew it wasn’t duty that drove you – only atonement.

Atonement, your mind echoes as you sit upon the cool stone steps beneath the Seven-Pointed Star, leaning your head against the bannister as you force yourself to look at his body, still atop black silks.

Must one feel guilt to atone? Must I atone for not feeling it? When will it end?

Those questions had plagued you in the days since Jace died, bled out like a hunter’s boon in the field by the Kingswood. They’d settled over you like a fever, an ever-present haunting ache, made only worse by the soft, sinful voice in the back of your head that whispered the truth – that you didn’t care, that you don’t even now.

You hadn’t cared, even as blood seeped from the gash at his side, even as you forced yourself to kneel by his still warm body and press gentle kisses to his forehead – the performance of a good wife.

You hadn’t cared in the carriage ride back to the Keep, letting your mother and your sister hold you while you cried – I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I should be sad.

And you hadn’t cared when Aemond had come to you in the dead of night, had slipped into your chambers – your chambers – through one of the many hidden passageways in the old castle.

“How?” You had asked, tracing patterns onto the pale skin of his bare chest while the two of you laid tangled in your silk sheets.

“A boar,” he answered plainly, speaking through a sigh while running his fingers over the thigh you had draped across his hips, “Just as I’ve told you the last four times you’ve asked.”

“Aemond,” you sighed in that same tired tone your mother so often used; your eyes had narrowed when you saw the corner of his lips just barely twitch up into a smile; were it any other time, he would’ve made a cheeky comment about the similarity.

“I’ve told you,” his grip tightened ever so slightly on your thigh and his other hand had grasped at your chin, guiding your eyes to his, “We had been tracking a buck, had gotten close and dismounted our horses, and had, I assume, stumbled into the beast’s territory and it charged at us.”

“Brother,” you had whispered, shaking your head and cupping his cheek, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie?”

He had stayed silent for a long while at that, jaw clenched while he stared at some point off in the distance, lips drawn into a tight line. Eventually, you had laid your head down, resting your cheek on his shoulder while you tried to accept that you wouldn’t be getting the truth that night, if ever.

It was only then that he had spoken.

“Please, let me protect you.”

“Protect me?” You had looked up, brows furrowed as you studied his face, “From what?”

“From the law –”

“Our brother is king, if he says it was not murder, if he says it was an accident, which he already has done, then no one will question his –”

“Fine, then,” he had snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “From the damn Gods! I…” He trailed off, sighing heavily while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“... the Gods?”

He’d finally looked at you again and your heart had pinched meanly in your chest when you saw tears gathering in his violet eye, “They will judge me harshly for what I’ve done, whenever the time comes, but… I will not subject you to the same fate.”

You had scoffed at that, had rolled your eyes when he looked away shamefully and had climbed atop him then, straddled his hips and turned his face toward yours, “I don’t give a shit about the Gods.”

“What?”

“I don’t,” you repeated, leaning down until your forehead touched his, “If they were good Gods, if they cared, they would not have subjected me to that sham of a marriage in the first place. They would’ve guided our mother rightly, but they didn’t.”

“Sister, I –”

“And I hate that our nephew paid for that, Aemond, I truly do, but I am the one who told you to do it.”

He had shaken his head while a mournful peal of laughter clawed its way out of his throat, “You didn’t tell me to do any–”

“Perhaps not directly,” you interjected, smiling sadly while you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands, running a thumb over the scar beneath his eye, “But I did. I could’ve told you not to, could’ve said I didn’t mean it, could’ve cautioned our mother against letting him go with you, but… I didn’t.”

“No… no, I suppose you didn’t,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried in vain to blink away tears.

“I didn’t,” you echoed, your words hushed and cooed, like a mother soothing an infant, “I know what you’re capable of, I knew it then, and I didn’t.”

He nodded, his breath stuttered in his throat as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Because I knew you’d protect me… and you did.”

“I did,” he mumbled, nodding up at you as his face twisted and a small sob bubbled from his lips, “I did, I did it. I did it, I did. For you, for us.”

“I know,” you murmured sweetly, stroking a hand over his long hair while you pressed sweet kisses against his forehead. You held him as he cried, huddled together in the dark of your chambers

And you hadn’t cared when you realized you were smiling.

“The hour is quite late, little one,” the suddenness of his voice makes you jump, though you settle quickly.

“So it is,” you smile and look over your shoulder, tilting your head up while he walks down the steps to join you, “The hour of ghosts, yes? Fitting.”

He huffs as he sits beside you before regarding you with a slight smirk, “I suppose it is,” he murmurs, only sparing the red and black draped body on the altar a passing glance.

“Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you… Hel said you would probably be here.”

“Mm,” you nod, idly running a finger over the pattern on your skirts, finding a morbid sort of beauty in the way the rich black silks glimmered in the candlelight.

“Why are you here?” Aemond asks, eye following the line of your profile.

“Praying.”

Without looking, you can practically feel him rolling his eye beside you, huffing a little breathy laugh again, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie, sweet sister?”

Hearing your own words from the night before parroted back to you pulls a laugh from you as well, though you wince as your giggle echoes throughout the Sept. “It’s funny,” you sigh, glancing about the cavernous space before finally looking at him, “This is the only place where no one wants to be.”

He hums next to you and nods his head, lets the two of you sit in silence for a moment before you continue.

“I don’t have to pretend when I’m here.”

“Pretend?”

Biting at your bottom lip, you nod and lean into his touch when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “That I’m sad… that I feel anything, really,” you sigh, breathing the words more so than saying them, “All Rhaenyra does is cry, Daemon is ready to strangle anything that moves, Lucerys is despondent to the point of being mute. Even our own mother cries for him and I cannot muster a single tear that isn’t a farce.”

Your eyes trail back over to Jace and you regard him with a mournful stare, staying silent for a long moment as you try to will yourself to feel sad, to feel angry, to feel guilty… yet nothing comes.

“Everyone grieves differently,” Aemond mumbles beside you, though his words only serve to make you more bitter, “Perhaps, in time –”

“In time nothing will happen,” you snap, grimacing at the harshness in your voice, “I’m not sad and I am… I’m tired of pretending I am.” You murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Aemond is quiet for a long while, though you can feel the energy radiating off of him in waves – you’ve always been able to tell when he has a lot on his mind. You’re content to simply let him think, taking his silence as a cue that it’s your turn to let him sort through things.

“You… are happy, though? Yes?” He finally asks after several long minutes, going strangely rigid next to you as if he’s afraid of your answer, “I know you say you aren’t sad but…”

“Aemond,” you sigh, sitting up and staring at him as a slow, creeping smile spreads across your face, “I have never been happier.”

“Truly?”

“Yes!” You quickly shift yourself on the stairs, turning yourself more toward him and placing a gentle hand on top of his thigh, “Big brother, you saved me.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him get a word in edgewise before the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the last few days finally spill over and you practically throw yourself into his lap, straddling his hips.

“Brother, I've been tethered to him since I was eight and you have freed me from that,” you say softly, voice hardly carrying in the air. Slowly, carefully you pull his eyepatch off, the only one ever allowed to do so; there is a sadness in your smile when you gently trail your fingers over the crease of his scar, “We both lost something that night and have suffered for it ever since.”

Without another word, you press your lips to his and savor the groan your kiss pulls from him. His hands grab at your hips in the same instance yours card through his hair while your lips move together in a practiced rhythm.

Impatient, one of your hands travels down his chest and stomach, though you hardly have time to pull at the hem of his dark tunic before he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“Aemond,” you huff, fighting against his grip.

“Surely you don’t mean to defile this place in such a way,” he murmurs, violet eye sparkling as if he were challenging you, even as he glances over your shoulder, “What would your dear husband think?

You grin at the lecherous smirk on his lips, heart pounding in your chest as a familiar ache settles at the apex of your thighs. You give one final glance over your shoulder before turning back to him with a dismissive shrug. “Husband in name only,” you remind him, yanking your hand out of his grasp and trailing your fingers over the growing bulge beneath his trousers, “I have only ever been devoted to you.”

A rough growl leaves his lips and he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eye. “We will burn for this, sweet sister,” he huffs, pale cheeks flushing while he stares up at you, one hand still settled on your hip as the other comes up to cup your jaw.

“The Seven can have their say,” your cunt clenches at the way he looks at you – surprise, lust, even reverence giving such an intensity to his gaze that it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, “The Old Valyrian Gods can as well, I don’t care. Aemond, I don’t.”

Your hand finally, blessedly, pulls free the ties at the top of his trousers and you quickly find his length. The sharp grunt that’s wrenched from his throat when your hand wraps around it echoes through the Sept, each iteration of it making the fire in your belly burn brighter and brighter.

He doesn’t attempt to stop you when you plunge a hand beneath the fabric of your black skirts and hastily tug your smallclothes out of the way, he merely studies you in awe, as if watching a newly hatched dragon spread its wings for the first time. His gaze makes you shiver, though you dare not look away.

“What do you care about, little one?” He murmurs suddenly, unable to help himself from glancing between your bodies, licking his lips while he watches you use your fingers to prepare yourself as you rub your own slick through your folds.

“You,” you whisper, shuddering at the way you both gasp at the same time when you rut against his already throbbing length, “You are the only god I’ve ever worshiped, big brother.”

A loud groan bursts free of his lips at that and the hunger in his eye nearly catches you alight, and yet he still grabs at your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking onto his length – so out of his element, wholly unused to being taken in such a way. “Come, let us go to my chambers,” he tries, breathing your name against your neck as he leans up, “Where I can take you properly, hm? No risk of anyone interrupting…”

Undeterred, you simply shake your head and lean forward, pressing your lips against his in an eager, near feral kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongues and thankfully, it’s enough to shock him into loosening his grip, just enough for you to take what you want. You bite at his bottom lip when you sink down onto his length, hard enough to taste iron, making him growl into the kiss, the sound of it deepening to a low groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him.

The feel of his cock stretching you open somehow only gets better each time and leaves you gasping in his lap, your hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage while you begin grinding yourself against him, impatient and ravenous. “Ohh, f-fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut while your walls flutter around him.

Aemond’s chest heaves under your hands while he stares up at you, lips parted ever so slightly as breathy groans spill, unbidden, from them. Opening your eyes, your gaze is immediately drawn to a little smear of red beside his mouth and you lean forward – licking his pale skin clean without a second thought.

“Little minx,” he smirks, meanly grabbing at your hips again and bucking up into you. He huffs a soft laugh at the sharp moan that bursts from you, sounding louder still in the large open space of the Sept; there’s a dangerous, challenging gleam in his eye that makes you shiver. “Go on, then,” he rasps, trailing a hand up from your hip to cup the underside of your breast, his touch warm even through the bodice of your gown, “Worship your god.”

A soft, stuttered moan wrenches itself from your lips at that and you quickly obey, staking your claim over him. As you find your rhythm, rutting wildly in his lap, the only sounds echoing off the walls are that of panted breaths and the slick, wet noises from where the two of you connect. “You’re mine,” you breathe, leaning forward to bite at his throat, determined to mark him in as many ways as possible, “Y-You’ve always been mine, Aemond.”

He nods his head, hands scrambling at the ties on your bodice, determined to free your breasts. “I’m yours?” He taunts, sighing victoriously when he finally manages to practically rip the top of your gown open; his tongue darts out, wetting his lips at the sight of them and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the way they bounce so enticingly with each of your determined movements, “Show me, then… show me who I belong to, sweet sister.”

Something snaps inside you then, breaking and clicking perfectly into place all in the same breath; the feeble thing that was holding the dam inside of you shut disappears. Whatever greedy darkness Aemond has always harbored within himself has been slowly seeping into you since the night of your betrothal feast and now, it seems, it has finally settled into your bones as well. It’s as if he can sense it in the same instance you do and gives a subtle nod of his head, commanding you to give in.

With renewed vigor, you grind against him harshly, pressing your hips as far down onto him as you can manage until you can feel his cock pressing against the entrance to your womb. The thought of him there, of the possibility of his seed catching, of the possibility that it may already have, spurs you on further.

“I would kill for you, too,” you say lowly through clenched teeth, licking up the side of his neck until you can whisper into his ear, “I’ll do anything to have you, my love, I don’t care what it is.”

A low groan reverberates from within his chest, both of you all but snarling as you move together; his hips rut up against yours, unable to hold still any longer, and he bites a path down your neck until he reaches the softness of your breasts. You gasp as he teases at one nipple, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue while his fingers toy with the other one, only to cut yourself off with a loud moan when his lips seal around it.

“I would burn this city to the fucking ground if that’s what… what it took, brother,” the words tumble from your lips when you card your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and holding him against your chest. Your head tilts down, heart pounding in your chest while you watch him savor the feel of your warm flesh in his mouth; his violet eye snaps up and his gaze bores into yours, making your cunt clutch greedily at his length.

Feeling the knot building quickly in your belly, aided by the way your sensitive pearl brushes against the small patch of hair at the base of Aemond’s cock, you only grow more needy – craving confirmation that he is yours, that no one will be able to take him from you again. Your breath catches in your throat when you recall a conversation the two of you had had a few nights ago, the night of Jace’s death.

The two of you had been cuddled in your bed together, panting in sweat-damp sheets, when he had cupped your cheek and turned your face to his.

“What is it?” You asked, familiar with the faraway look in his eye – God’s knew where he could’ve been in that moment.

“Marry me.”

His whispered demand had knocked the air from your lungs then, the whole world may as well have come to a grinding halt on its axis. “Aemond, we must wait, you know this. I hate it as much as you do but –”

“We need to wait for a Westerosi wedding, yes,” he murmured, leaning over you and shushing you with a soft kiss, “Too soon and it looks suspicious.”

“But –”

“But… a wedding in the tradition of our house need not wait, little one,” the determination in his eye had shocked you then, had warmed you from the inside out, “Our sister and her cunt of a husband hardly waited until Laena and Laenor were cold before they married… we could do the same.”

You had stayed quiet after that, too much death and change and uncertainty clouding your mind to give him an answer, and yet you knew he was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married in secret, so soon after Laenor’s sudden passing that it had always seemed a bit odd to you. Yet, no one ever questioned it; your own father had accepted it without so much as a blink, writing the marriage into law with no fuss. Aegon would do the same for you, you felt certain.

Nothing was stopping you, nothing that mattered, anyway.

That thought fuels you now as you rock on Aemond’s lap, both of you barreling toward your eventual ends. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him away from your breast despite his growl of displeasure. Just as he had with you, you cup his cheeks, focusing his attention on you.

“Marry me.”

The rhythm of his hips hitches at your words and he fucks up into you harshly, moving you more desperately against him as another loud, guttural moan echoes through the chamber.

“Tonight,” you continue, brows furrowing as you stare at him, greedily drinking him in, “I cannot wait any longer, brother, tonight, please…”

A vicious, conquering smirk grows on his lips, white teeth gleaming in the low candlelight like a snarling dog. “You wish to be mine, is that it?” He teases, reaching between your two writhing bodies to rub hungrily at your pearl, savoring the pretty breathy moans he earns.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking as an unrelenting, all consuming possessive ache starts spreading out from your heart, flowing through your blood vessels like fire. “I don’t wish it,” you pant, forehead resting against his while the wildfire burning in your belly threatens to burn you whole, “I told you, I would kill for you and… and, fuck, I swear it. A-Aemond, no one will have you ever again, never, none except me…”

Your words descend into a barely intelligible murmur as you finally let go, pushed suddenly over the edge at the thought of being so tightly bound together that no one would be able to tear the two of you apart again. Your brother growls again at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the movements spurring him toward his own end.

He grabs at you when he follows you into oblivion, holding you against him as if you’d disappear otherwise. The feel of his spend spilling into you, filling you, nearly sends you over the edge again and you cling to him just as harshly, holding him while he trembles beneath you.

“You are a vicious little thing,” he says softly after some minutes, holding you against his chest while the two of you catch your breaths.

“I learned from the best.”

He only sighs at that but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I would do it again for you,” he mumbles, eye fixed on Jace, “I would do it a thousand times over.”

He speaks in a reverent whisper, promises of death and destruction as sweet as a prayer on his lips.

Aemond’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the winding corridors below the Red Keep, the flickering light from the torches lining the walls making the various statues and reliefs dance in your periphery.

“I’ve always hated that he’s down here, stowed away,” he murmurs, yet his voice still carries some among the stone hallways.

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, glancing into each shadowy alcove you come across while you try to ignore the wild beating in your chest – the way your heart clenches at the thought of finally being so close to what you’ve always wanted. “Yes, he should be out in the sun, somewhere he can be celebrated.”

The old cellars under the Keep have always seemed so haunting to you, so cold and empty. The thought of the walls down here being lined with the ashen remains of generations upon generations of your ancestors had never failed to send a shiver down your spine. Yet, they unfold before you now like paradise; even the still, musty air begins to smell as sweet as honeyed wine.

For the briefest of seconds, guilt joins you – walks alongside you, invisible like the Stranger. A stuttered heartbeat, that’s all and then it’s gone, at the thought that Jace would join them tomorrow, still warm from Vermax’s fire.

How ironic, you think, glancing up at your brother and admiring the way the light gleams on his sapphire eye, That a place that holds so much death would be where our lives finally begin.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” you’d said again, retying your bodice while Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers and searched for his eyepatch.

“Nor do I,” he agreed, stuffing the small scrap of fabric into a pocket – the streets of King’s Landing would be deserted enough at this time of night that he could get away without wearing it. “Tensions are bound to rise after tomorrow, after everything is said and done; I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You had nodded and followed him out of the Sept, through one of the many old, forgotten tunnels that only a scant few knew existed, the list of which definitely didn’t include the guards stationed at the front of the building who had escorted your carriage earlier that evening.

While he had helped you onto the back of his horse, the two of you shared a knowing look, each of you already thinking the same thing.

Turning down one final corridor, your heart thuds in your chest as you’re finally met with Balerion’s petrifying gaze and, just like every other time you’d been in his presence, a little huff of reverence leaves you. Your eyes dance over the rows of his razor sharp teeth, gleaming in the glow of dozens of candles, and you can’t help but imagine the horrors those jaws have inflicted, the pain they wrought while subduing the continent – all in your family’s name.

“Targaryens have always taken what we’ve wanted,” Aemond murmurs beside you, staring up at the gargantuan skull with just as much respect as you are, “Tamed our desires in fields of fire.”

“And rivers of blood,” you turn your heads at the same time, soft smiles on your lips when your eyes meet, like you’re sharing sweet words of love rather than painting pictures of horrors.

Perhaps that is what wrath is for us, you wonder, your eyes flicking between violet and sapphire when you turn toward your brother, What is death if not the sweetest of devotions?

He takes your hands in his, glancing down when your fingers intertwine before looking back up at you; you can feel yourself blushing under his intense gaze, heart squeezing in your chest as he looks at you like that in and of itself is an honor. There’s such softness in his eye, you would think him incapable of violence if you didn’t know better.

“You truly wish for this?” He questions one last time, needing to be sure.

“I’ve told you, I do not wish,” your hands squeeze his, “I need this, Aemond… I would kill for you, for this – for us. Anything, just as you did.”

Your voice trembles when you speak, the intensity of your hushed promises making your head spin because you would. The want you feel, that you have always felt, is not some soft yearning thing. It’s not so simple as some mere whisper uttered in the dead of night at a holy altar while your skin is awash with the glow of candlelight, no.

No, your want is something far more insidious – something deep-seated. An oppressive, clinging thing that has always coaxed you further and further down into that shadowy part of yourself; the part that has always reminded you too much of him.

The demon, lurking in your periphery, that has always begged you to look, has tempted you since childhood with the sweetest of promises, finally rejoices.

Aemond nods, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and you watch as he lets go of one of your hands to unsheath his dagger. The sight of the worn leather handle makes you smile bashfully, though your core clenches all the same, and you gasp when you feel another drop of his seed soak into your smallclothes.

“You know the words?”

Again, he nods and your head cocks to the side curiously when a wash of pink grows on his pale cheeks; he smiles again and fixes you with that same intense stare. “I used to spend hours reading them, over and over, when we were children,” he whispers, leaning closer to you like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret, “I always wanted to get them perfect for you.”

A little peal of laughter echoes through the cellars before you swallow thickly, trying to tamper the tightness at the back of your throat as the backs of your eyes sting, tears pooling in your waterline. He cups your cheek and you smile when he brushes one away, a pleased hum leaves his lips when you nod.

Aemond raises the dagger, glancing between its shining blade and your lips while you ready yourself, one hand clenching at the black silk of your skirts. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises.

You hold stock-still, gasping when he presses the cool edge of it against your lower lip, yet your eyes don’t leave his when he finally cuts – nicking your delicate flesh just enough to draw blood before offering you the dagger. Grasping it, you mirror his steps exactly, just as careful with him.

Setting the dagger to the side, you both reach up at the same time, swiping a thumb over your own lip before reaching out. Your arms intertwine when you brush each other’s foreheads, leaving behind two crimson lines.

His gaze never breaks from yours as he takes the blade again and carefully cuts his palm, holding it out to you again and waiting while you do the same, gasping at the sharp sting. Finally, the two of you join hands, blood mingling together as a few drops of it splatter on the stone floor as Balerion bears witness to your union.

“Hen lantoti ānogar, va syndroti vāedroma, mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr,” he recites, murmuring the words with care, making sure to enunciate each syllable, to make the vows unmistakeable to whichever ghosts may be listening, “Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jeny māzīlarion,” (Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass.)

Aemond pauses, taking a breath as he squeezes your hand with his, echoing your smile.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi, syndroro ōñō jēdo, ry kīvia mazvestraksi,” he finishes, all but breathing the last few words as his eye grows misty. (The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.)

The two of you stand still for a moment like you’re waiting for the world to crash down around you and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours as your palms press together, both of you seemingly in shock at finally, finally having everything you’ve ever wanted.

You can’t tell who moves first but suddenly you’re crashing against him, dagger clanging as it hits the floor, while the two of you clutch at one another desperately, uncaring of the blood smearing on your clothes.

Your lips press against his like they’re a lifeline and you moan at the touch, swiping your tongue over his while you grab at the lapels of his jacket. His hands cup your cheeks, staining one with red, before carding through your hair.

“Gods,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you pant, breathing out soft laughs. “My little wife…” He says the word slowly, lets it drag over his tongue.

“Husband,” you reply between soft kisses to his cheek, head spinning at how a word that once had to be dragged from you, that had scraped against your skin like thorns, now felt like silk slipping cooly over you.

Your brother growls deep in his chest and his eye flutters shut for a second before his hands are at your waist again and he’s walking you backwards, only a few paces, until you’re pressed against one of the stone columns surrounding the great dragon’s skull. Though your landing is soft, it wrenches a gasp from you all the same but you don’t have time to question his intent before his lips are on yours again.

You moan into the kiss, matching each of his deep groans with one of your own as your tongues tangle together. “Aemond,” you pant when he begins trailing kisses down across your jaw and neck, “What –”

He nips at your cleavage then and you can feel him smirking at the loud whine he pulls from you, soothing the skin after with a sweet kiss before sinking to his knees before you. The sight is enough to make you weak – the man that loves you more than eternity itself, who loves you enough to do terrible, monstrous things, kneeling at your feet and staring up at you like you are his salvation.

Your hands tangle in his soft hair while he pulls at your skirts, pushing them up and out of the way, kissing your thighs as he goes. “You had the chance to worship at your altar, sweetest little wife,” he pants, groaning when he pushes your smallclothes to the side and licking his lips at the sight of your cunt, still wet with your combined spend, “Now let me worship at mine.”

That’s the only warning you get before he dives in, lapping at your center with a loud, satiated growl. Your head thuds back against the column while your eyes are fixed, half-lidded, on Balerion, on the fire that surrounds him.

You understand, then – the curtains of fire that blanketed the continent were necessary to conquer it, just as blood was necessary to bind the two of you. Perhaps one day you’ll be called to answer for that, but even then you would do it a thousand times over; even if the dark, shadowy parts of yourself, of him, lead to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. You would do it, again and again, for him.

You were always meant to burn together.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

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neunhofferart · 2 days

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I don’t know if you’re allowed to say this, but if you are, who’s your favorite character in Chaos Theory?

Damn, trying to make me choose between all 6 of my beautiful adult children, huh?

Okay--

On Camp Cretaceous Yaz and Ben were my favorites, I thought Darius was sweet and cute but I wished he had stronger character arcs, and I had a soft spot for Sammy because I'm also from a Texas ranch. Kenji was fun to revise/board because he was such a doofus, but I did find him a little annoying sometimes haha. Controversial opinion... but I was just okay with Brooklynn on Camp.

On Chaos Theory-- I love EVERYONE and it is really hard for me to choose. Darius, Ben, and Brooklynn are probably tied up top though.

Darius just got so much cooler (while still retaining his sweetness), he feels much more solid as a main character, and I really liked the angst of his character arc. (His new design was also the most fun to draw)

My one qualm with Ben on Camp Cretaceous is that we were pushed to make him always really sure of himself and kind of Rambo-esque after he became 'new Ben,' and I always felt that some of it was a front/that he was still a child and should have been allowed to have more moments where his overconfident facade cracked and his anxiety showed. I think the team finally hit the perfect blend of his two personalities in Chaos Theory, and I love him even more in this show (and his new design was always the funniest-- and really fun to draw).

Brooklynn skyrocketed to being one of my favorites (even though she was largely off screen) simply because of how interesting I found the direction of her character post Camp. The way her presence permeates the narrative even though she's gone was something I always felt was really well written (I also really loved her new design)!

I still really love Kenji, Sammy, and Yaz though! Kenji also went up some pegs for me this show because I just... love messy character angst haha. I know a lot of people think his design (especially the hair) is a downgrade, but I do think it fits what he's going through.

And Sammy and Yaz!! I love their new designs so much, and I'm happy their arcs about how they've been dealing with trauma turned out well (I was also happy we got to see Sammy's ranch and that it actually looked like the hill country instead of a desert in arizona haha). They will always be my favorite sapphic couple. <3

Oh, also shout out to the Handler HAHA

#I tried to keep this vague to avoid spoiling big parts of the show in case anyone isn't done yet haha #jurassic world chaos theory #jwct #jurassic world #chaos theory #camp cretaceous #ask

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the-offside-rule · 3 days

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Zhou Guanyu (Stake Sauber) - Oblivious

Requested: NO BUT WE NEED MORE ZHOU CONTENT

Warnings: y/n being a complete idiot

GIF from @jamesvowles

Zhou Guanyu adjusted his sunglasses as he stepped into the cozy little coffee shop nestled in the corner of their favorite street. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wafted through the air, making him smile. He glanced around, quickly spotting Y/n at their usual corner table, engrossed in a book. "Hey, Y/n." He called out, walking over and taking a seat across from her. Y/n looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile. "Zhou! You're right on time."

"Wouldn't miss it." He replied, returning her smile. He waved at the barista, signaling their usual orders. "So, what's the book today?" He asked. "It's a mystery novel." She said, closing the book and setting it aside. "You know me, always trying to solve things before the characters do." He smiled. "Yeah, you always were the clever one," he said, leaning forward slightly. "So, any plans for the weekend?"

"Not really. Just the usual, maybe a movie marathon. What about you?" Y/n shrugged. "Actually, I was thinking-" Zhou began, choosing his words carefully, as Y/n looked up from her book in curiosity. "It would be nice to do something together. Maybe go for a walk in the park, or catch that new movie you've been talking about." Y/n set her book aside, beaming. "That sounds fun! I always enjoy hanging out with you." Zhou felt a flicker of disappointment at her casual tone but pressed on. "You know, Y/n, there's something special about spending time with you. It's like… you make everything better."

"Aww, thanks, Zhou. You're such a good friend." She said, patting his hand across the table. Zhou chuckled softly, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Of course, I am a good friend." He repeated. "But sometimes, I wish you could see me as more than that." Y/n tilted her head, a puzzled look crossing her face. "More than a friend? Like a best friend?" Zhou took a deep breath, deciding to be more direct. "Y/n, what if I told you that I like you? Like, really like you." Y/n blinked, clearly taken aback. "Wait, what?"

"I like you, Y/n." Zhou said, his voice steady but gentle. "More than just as a friend." For a moment, Y/n sat in stunned silence, processing his words. "You… like me? As in… you have feelings for me?" Zhou nodded, watching her intently. "Yes, exactly. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I wasn't clear enough." Y/n's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my gosh, Zhou, I had no idea! I thought you were just being your usual sweet self."

Zhou smiled, relieved to finally have everything out in the open. "I was being my sweet self because I care about you a lot. And I wanted to see if maybe you felt the same way." Y/n's expression softened, and she reached across the table to take his hand. "Guanyu, I… I'm surprised, but in a good way. I never realized… but now that I think about it, maybe I've been feeling the same way too." Zhou's heart soared at her words. "Really?"

Y/n nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, really. I guess I just needed a little nudge to see it." Zhou laughed, his relief turning into joy. "Well, I'm glad I finally said something. So, what do you say we organise a date?" Y/n squeezed his hand, her eyes twinkling. "I'd like that, Guanyu. I'd like that a lot."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x reader #zhou guanyu #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x you #zhou guanyu x y/n #zhou guanyu imagine #zhou guanyu oneshot #guanyu zhou #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic

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turtle-paced · 2 days

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Do you think Cersei is a coward? For all her tough talk whenever she thinks she’s in actual danger she tends to panic like at the Blackwater and at the Sept and the time she freaks out because Loras walked in her direction.

I think it's clear that Cersei's go-to coping method for stress (whether the acute stress of the Blackwater or the longer-term stress of being in charge such as in AFFC) is alcohol. Which doesn't do great things for one's judgment.

I also think that she lacks the moral fortitude to honestly think about her relationships and her capabilities.

Yet it's also clear to me that she was very resilient keeping her own personhood and nerve throughout years of abuse by her husband. She didn't break down under that, though it seems again her coping methods were not fantastic (risky sex with Jaime; indulging Joffrey).

She's a complex character. There's real strength to her as well as real weakness. No good coping mechanisms though.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #cersei lannister

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grandestheart · 2 days

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LET THIS HAPPEN grayson x lyra

★ characters - grayson hawthorne, lyra kane

★ synopsis ~ When grayson spots lyra with her feet dangling in his pool, he goes to invite her to swim with him, when she reveals she cant swim, grayson takes it upon himself to teach her

★ taglist 🏷️ ~ @nqds @urbanflorals @sophiesonlinediary @lxvebelle @x-liv25-jamieswife // it will only let me tag five people at a time so thats why tags are split up <3

@shuhuaspookie @sunsetovertheocean @never-enough-novels @lanterns-and-daydreams @inmyheaddd lmk if you want to be added

★ request from @sophiesonlinediary

★ a/n ~ so excited to see what jlb has in the Hawthorne vault!!! I really hope it’s a Lyra chapter so we can begin to get a sense of her character, anyways enjoy <3 also this is like my longest fic ever!!

the heated water swished around lyras feet, she had only found this pool when exploring the Hawthorne mansion, looking for clues that could give her a lead in the game. She couldn’t swim, but she did enjoy the water, something about the smooth ripples when she kicked her feet calmed her.

She had been sat for around five minutes when she heard quiet footsteps on the patio behind her, “hello?” A deep voice called out, she knew that voice, “who’s there?” Shit. The voice moved closer, she couldn’t move now. It was much too late, “uh- gamemaster,” she cleared her throat, “what a suprise to see you here.”

Grayson stepped into the turquoise light from the pool. He was wearing nothing but navy swim shorts, and his hair was messed up, as if a hand had been ran through it. “Ms Kane, what are you doing here it’s after hours?” Grayson tilted his head slightly, Lyras mouth formed an o shape, all contestants were to be in their rooms by 11pm and it was now around 12:30. “I- I just needed to clear my head, but I can leave if that’s what you want.” She began to lift herself out of the pool when Grayson stopped her. “No, it’s ok you can stay.” Grayson made his way over to the stairs of the pool, “I often come here to clear my head too.” Grayson slid into the pool, dunking his head under the warm water.

When he came back up his hair had been pushed out of his face, and water was dripping down his shirtless body. “Do you wish to join me for a swim Ms Kane?” Grayson asked, swimming up to where she was sat on the ledge, “oh- no, I couldn’t. I can’t swim, so I probably-“ she trailed off, “that’s fine,” Grayson lifted himself out of the pool and next to her, “I could teach you.” Lyra laughed, he couldn’t be serious right? “I’m serious. I’ve been swimming since I could walk. I’m sure I would be a sufficient teacher.”

“you’re that confident?” Lyra retailed, “I’m not even dressed for it.” Grayson shrugged, “what’s wrong with what your wearing now?” Lyra looked down at her red oversized jumper and black running shorts. “Are you being fucking serious? I’ll drown if I wear this.” Grayson slid back into the pool. “Not if I’m holding you.” Grayson offered his hand, Lyra took it. “If that’s what you say Hawthorne boy.”

Grayson and Lyra had been in the pool for hours now, it started with Grayson trying to teach Lyra the basics, but for the past forty five minutes they had just been sat on the edge of pool, talking about life. “Grayson?” Lyra asked, “yes?” “what are we doing?” Grayson didn’t respond, only pushed himself back into the water. He made direct eye contact with her before saying. “This.” And then he grabbed her legs and tugged her under the water. “GRAYSON!” Lyra screeched after she had scrambled her way to the surface, she turned around to see Graysons cocky face grinning, “you could’ve killed me, asshole.” Grayson wrapped his arms around her waist. “I wouldn’t of let that happen” they were close now, too close, his mouth was only centimetres above hers. “but maybe- i will let this happen.” And with that his soft lips kissed hers. When they finally pulled apart Grayson stared at her. “You are so beautiful Lyra.” Lyra he had used her first name. “Same goes for you Hawthorne boy.”

#the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #book writing #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #the grandest game #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #grayson x phone girl #grayson x lyra #tig #lyra kane #grayson hawthorne fic

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flower-boi16 · 1 day

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What's your opinion on the overlords over all?

As characters or what they do for the world building?

As characters they are actually pretty good. They aren’t amazing but they aren’t terrible

The Vees are actually some of the better villains in Hazbin tbh. I’ve gushed about Velvvete before but Vox is legitimately interesting with how he initially keeps this cool, chill attitude to him which completely shatters once Val brings up the mere mention of Alastor, revealing just how much of a petty, childish asshole he really is. He may keep this facade on the outside, but deep down, Vox is just a petty childish asshole stuck in a rivalry with Alastor who he’s obsessed with one uping.

Now, that I think about it, Vox and Alastor’s rivalry is legitimately entertaining because it is essentially a petty childish tv headed asshole vs a calm, confident charismatic radio host who frequently pokes fun at the childish asshole. Stayed Gone shows this rivalry perfectly; with both characters’ verses being about one trash talking the other, though Vox’s verse is about how much better he is than Alastor and how Alastor and his medium are getting outdated, and Vox’s medium is the next best thing that everyone should care about.

He calls Alastor a “loser” “fossil” and a “coward”, which is pretty much just him baselessly insulting Alastor, and the “who gives a shit?” line pretty much communicates Vox saying “who even cares about him?”. Alastor’s verse meanwhile is, like I said, him poking fun at Vox for his childish insecurities and throwing in actual roasts into it as well.

Stayed Gone does a good job of showing the rivalry between the two, and like how Respectless does a good job of showing Velvvete’s personality, Stayed Gone does a good job of showing Vox’s personality and his rivalry with Alastor. Hazbin is honestly an improvement over Helluva in terms of antagonists.

It’s still not amazing (this is still the show that has Adam and Lute in it) but with characters like Velvvette, Vox, Alastor and Sera its a major step in the right direction since these characters have REAL DEPTH behind them beyond them being one-dimensional assholes.

Vox is an asshole but there’s actual DEPTH behind his assholery that characters like Adam or most of HB’s antagonists simply don’t have. The only real exception here aside from Adam is Valentino who is the least layered of the Vees. But even then he’s still leagues above characters like Crimson or Stella in HB.

Now, where was I…oh right the overlords as characters. Like I already said, I enjoy Alastor as a character. I like his charismatic personality and he has this mysterious air to him that makes him very intriguing as a character. I would like to see what they do with him in later seasons (assuming they dont find a way to fuck it up). Oh and Rosie. Rosie is cool. She’s neat.

And Carmila too I guess…? Carmila’s fine tbh. She’s a character that the show instantly expects you to care about the second she’s introduced in and she gets an emotional ballad that was completely unearned which hurts her as a character but she isn’t bad in episode 7.

So overall as characters so far the overlords are actually pretty good. But then there’s the world building part and…its bad.

The major issue with overlords world building wise is that it’s never really explained how a sinner becomes an overlord. I’m assuming it’s by gaining a high economic status and having a lot of souls, but like…how many souls do you need to own to become an overlord? How can someone gain more control over the area? Are you just an overlord when you have high economic status?? Do overlords rule over other sinners in the area?? What kind of power over their areas do they have??? What specific way can an sinner rise to power to becoming an overlord???

Ya none or this is really explained…its amazing how every time I think about viv’s world building I notice more holes in it.

So overall overlords are fine. Character wise their good, world building wise they suck.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #hazbin hotel criticism

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sir-adamus · 11 hours

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RWBY takes its inspirations from a lot of places

it's no secret that RWBY wears its influences on its sleeves - it's characters are all based on fairytales/myths/legends/memes and is a series created by someone who wanted to make his own anime. and while it does make a lot of nods to specific things (and is dogged on for that by some people despite that it isn't new or even exclusive to RWBY - see the episode of AtLA where Aang dreams about being Goku and Naruto), the show itself draws or seems to draw so many elements from so many different sources and arranges them into something new

putting the rest below a cut because it got lengthy

like i think i've seen the claim that Remnant's four Kingdoms are a ripoff of AtLA's four Nations... except the Kingdoms aren't elementally themed and these places are so important because most of the planet is uninhabitable, which isn't the case with AtLA, and each Kingdom has thoroughly different theming that it's barely similar. it's such a surface thing that it's barely a nod because the world setups are so wildly different

Dust is clearly inspired by Materia from FFVII (or more broadly, Magicite, which recurs through the FF series and has a similar function); a resource mined from the earth that allows the wielder to do magic (though Dust is more limited in its function where materia/magicite can allow for non-elemental and abstract stuff like time-stopping or summoning). the four Academies are almost definitely a reference to the three Gardens in FFVIII (and one of them, Balamb Garden, is where teenagers are trained to become SeeD, a mercenary force for hire that conducts missions around the world, which likely was one of the points of inspiration behind the Huntress/Huntsman career in RWBY)

Aura, being a personal protective shield, both visually and purpose-wise, is a reference to the personal energy shields used by the Sangheili in Halo

the Maidens seem to be a cross between the Sorceresses from FFVIII (who unlike normal people can do magic naturally, and each Sorceress passes on her power to another individual upon her death) and the rule basis for the Sirens from Borderlands (only 6 Sirens can exist at a time and their powers transfer to another individual upon their death, similar to how there can only be 4 Maidens at a time) - Sorceresses, Sirens and Maidens powers can also only be exclusively passed on to women (Troy Calypso in Borderlands 3 has partial-Siren because he was conjoined with his twin sister Tyreen in the womb, and has to leech off of her in order to survive; it's made clear both by the appearance of his Siren tattoos that he's an aberration to the normal process)

Grimm are so obviously inspired by the Heartless from Kingdom Hearts - dark beasts of destruction that are defined by their lack of something (the difference of course being that Heartless come from the nebulous 'realm of darkness' which is separate from the other worlds while Grimm are very much a part of Remnant). Kingdom Hearts has a lot of influence thematically, as it similarly presents itself as a bright and cheery story with a lighthearted, stylised aesthetic, only for that to be an artificial facade for a very dark and often brutal story that becomes more obvious as each series continues. and in terms of specific Grimm, the Apathy (and the Brunswick farm story in general) are a direct reference to the short story Bartleby the Scrivener, but the Apathy's emaciated, skeletal appearance and paralytic scream draw from the ReDeads of the Legend of Zelda series

the Faunus being part animal could be inspired from any number of different shows or games, but in the BlazBlue series, demihumans (who are also part animal) are also noted to face discrimination (though the series doesn't touch on it much by nature of being a fighting game)

in terms of characters, Ruby is obviously Red Riding Hood, but she wields a scythe like Maka from Soul Eater, was initially presented as a completely silent, gun-wielding protagonist in a high octane fight similarly to Black Rock Shooter (the 2012 show also served as an influence on RWBY's animation style, and BRS's flaming blue eye is similar to the Maidens), and her bladed weapon also being a gun brings to mind Squall's Gunblade from FFVIII. plus, positioned as the protagonist and falling into the leadership role and it continuing to weigh down on her is something she has in common with Sora from KH

additionally, the visuals for Ruby's Semblance are inspired by something similar Vincent Valentine does in the FFVII Advent Children movie, with the addition of rose petals (which may be inspired by a similar thing the protagonist of FFXIII, Lightning, has)

Yang is Goldilocks, her design evokes Tifa from FFVII (and her characterisation not being what you'd expect based on the initial impression of her design also borrows from Tifa), her original theme outright compares her to a Super Saiyan from Dragon Ball with her glowing, flaming hair when she powers up with her Semblance evoking the aesthetic appearance of the form (and her 'gets stronger every time she takes a hit' is essentially a temporary, low-level zenkai boost from that series; 'get stronger every time you almost die'). in fact, character-wise, her losing an arm and being characterised as fairly thoughtful and introspective, you could make an argument that she's meant to parallel Future Gohan specifically. however, losing an arm, growing up in the woods and having to care for her younger sibling when they were young also could be a reference to Ragna from BlazBlue (and to boot, Yang's weapon is named Ember Celica, Ragna's parental substitute was Celica A Mercury), and additionally, Nine the Phantom from the same series (Celica's doting older sister) also has heavy fire theming, meaning she could serve as another point of inspiration

finally, Yang may also be partly inspired by Nero from Devil May Cry. while it wasn't explicitly confirmed until DMC5, when Nero was introduced in 4, he is highly implied to be the nephew of series protagonist and demon hunter Dante (who typically wields a greatword) and the son of Dante's twin brother, Vergil (who wields a katana that he can open portals with). Nero's design from jump is asymmetrical, with one of his arms being demonic. asymmetry is a theme for Yang from her trailer (and culminates with her losing one of her arms), her uncle Qrow wields a greatsword and her mother, Raven, Qrow's twin, wields a katana and opens portals with them (that Nero then gained a mechanical prosthetic arm in DMC5 is a hilarious coincidence)

Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon is obviously the Wizard of Oz (his name comes from the acronym of the Wizard of Oz's actual name, Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmanuel Ambroise Diggs - OZPINHEAD), but he also draws from Cid Kramer from FFVIII (being the headmaster of Balamb Garden), as well as Gandalf in putting his faith in a 'smaller soul' (and his manipulative bs is clearly meant to analog to the guy from the bad wizard books, except in rwby it's clearly meant to be a bad thing that has actual consequences, and no more needs to be said about it)

Ironwood is clearly the Tin Woodsman as his main inspiration, a man who (thanks to a cursed axe) kept hacking off parts of his body and getting them replaced with metal until even his heart was gone (and at no point did he consider putting down the axe) - with the key point that he's a subversion of the Woodsman's story. but his descent could be inspired by Walker's descent in Spec Ops The Line (as it would've been in the public zeitgeist when Monty, Kerry and Miles were developing the show and writing these characters, and the game had been played on Achievement Hunter around that time), or from Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now, which inspired that game. his willingness to go to extreme and appalling lengths to achieve his goals may also be drawing from Director Leonard Church, from RT's first show Red vs Blue, who has the quote: "Have you forgotten sir, we were at war? A fight with an alien race for the very survival of our species. I feel I must remind you that it is an undeniable, and may I say fundamental quality of man, that when faced with extinction, every alternative is preferable." which feels very in line with Ironwood's willingness to compromise every moral and sacrifice whatever and whoever he thinks he needs to to win

Penny's fairytale inspiration is obviously Pinocchio but her robotic nature and relationship with a caring father also brings to mind Astro Boy and Mega Man, while her combat style is directly inspired by the Prime Field Devices of BlazBlue, who also fight with a floating array of many swords

the structure of the show honestly feels like a JRPG too - with the first few volumes being the lighthearted prologue where characters and concepts are introduced to ease you into the world, there's some hints to a wider world and a bigger story but there's very little sense that the protagonists are in real danger

until they are, and things go catastrophically wrong in a major way that shakes up the plot, throws the characters out into the world and gives them the main goal they're now striving toward (stopping Salem, in this case), with personal narratives developing in tandem with plot progressions that shake up how the audience and the characters see the world and reveal things to be more complex as things go on

you could literally go on forever; and it's not so much 'taking these disparate puzzle pieces and making a collage' so much as it is laying out the bones and building up something new on top of them through the way these bones intersect and interact in new contexts. RWBY isn't ashamed of its influences while still standing as its own story to tell

#RWBY

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