#I wish someone other than me would write this.

[nina-ya]

Oh my gosh Nina I LOVE your content!!! It's so detailed and lovely without being too wordy and long it's just amazing oh gosh~

If you don't have too many asks and if it's okay, can I ask for a scenario where it's post-war arc and reader is at his bedside holding his hand while he's recovering just waiting for him to finally wake up. And while he's laying there reader realizes that they love him more than a friend/captain. So when he wakes up they're crying on him and they admit how scared they were to lose him.

Even if you don't write it, thank you so much for all of the content you give us!! You should consider opening/sharing a Ko-fi, I would love to give back as a true thank you!!

Have a blessed night ❤

Waiting for Luffy to Wake Up

Pairing: Luffy x Reader CW: Marineford spoilers if you squint. None overall. WC: 1.2k A/N: AAAAA????? Im going to actually sob at your complement it means a lot to me and truly thank you for reading my silly little writings i'm glad if i can bring joy to even one person. I do have a ko-fi! you can find it here!

You’ve grown accustomed to the smell of heavy antiseptic that inhabited the room. The blinding LED lights had been dimmed, as they usually were when night fell, leaving the room shroud in darkness. The only sources of light were the faint glow seeping in from under the door and the dull gleam of the machines that surrounded his bed. Oh, those machines. The machines that whir and beep through all hours of the day to keep him alive. The heart monitor is one of the machines that you are grateful for, though it was a double-edged sword. It's a reminder that his heart still beats, but the constant beep...beep....beep is a sound that you have grown to dread the longer that you hear it– wishing so desperately that you could hear the sound of his laughter instead of this constant reminder that he has gone through something absolutely terrible.

You couldn’t tell how long you had been in that room by Luffy's side. You knew that at least some days had passed since the surgery, but exactly how long was unknown to you as time seemed to blur the longer you waited to see him open his eyes. The creaking and groaning of the submarine, the chatter that could be heard from the other side of the door, the voices of the people who come in and out of the room, all have seemed to just be muted to you. Your mind could not make room for anything else other than the man in front of you. 

You felt a lump form in your throat at the sight of him. How could someone so full of life, so unyielding, be lying here so still? Every move he made all seemed so effortless, it seemed that nothing could bring him down. But now, seeing him like this, you just realized how fragile he could be, and it scared you.

You took hold of his hand, gripping it tight, as if by holding on, you could will him back to consciousness. You could see the rising and falling of his chest to indicate his breathing. You could see the line on the heart monitor rise and fall with each beat of his heart. Yet, you could not help yourself but to distrust the machines lean in, placing your head against his chest and listening for yourself to hear the faint sound of the badump… badump… badump… of his heart to make sure that there is still life in there. 

You sighed in relief hearing that beautiful sound, and yet, other, worrying thoughts occupied you. What if he doesn’t wake up? What if he never opens his eyes again? What if you can never see that smile of his again? Your mind suddenly raced with the things you wish you had said, all the moments you had taken for granted. You leaned back, lifting your head from Luffy’s chest, but your grip on his hand remained tight.

The thoughts began spiraling, bringing forward past memories.  You recalled the first time you met, how he greeted you with that infectious grin, the kind that made you believe that anything was possible. You knew he was special from that moment. You knew that you had to keep him close. And somewhere along the way, without you even realizing it, you knew that you thought of him more than and you just couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Now, as you sat beside him, the weight of him pressed heavily on your heart. Fear and guilt. The two emotions filled your heart. Fear for what the future might hold, for the possibility of losing him forever. Guilt, for not realizing sooner, for not being able to protect him.

You didn’t even realize you were shaking. Your fingers trembled against his, and tears blurred your vision as you fought to contain your emotions. With a shuddering breath, you dropped your head and watched as the tears dropped to the surface below you. You whispered words of encouragement, of hope, of love, though whether they were meant for him your yourself, you couldn’t be sure. “Luffy… please,” you croaked out, your voice cracking with sorrow. “You have to wake up. The crew needs you… I need you…”

You squeezed his hand tighter, lifting your head, allowing the tears to flow down your cheeks as you looked at him. His face was peaceful despite what he went through. And just for a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a possible future with him if he were to wake up. A future where you could be honest with yourself and with him and could finally tell him how you felt. 

You couldn’t hold back the tears. Your body shook with sobs that left you gasping for breath. You knew that you couldn’t live in a world without him, and the mere thought of it hurt like nothing else. 

In your dazed state, you felt his hand twitch. At first, you dismissed it as wishful thinking, but then you heard a shift in his breathing. Your sobs stopped abruptly as you stared at him with baited breath, wondering if it was just your mind playing a sick and cruel trick. But then you saw it– his chest rose sharply as he gasped for breath, his eyes fluttering open. It was real. 

“Lu…Luffy?” You asked, your voice barely audible. You could not dare believe your eyes. He turned his head towards you, the motion strained and clearly weakened by the toll his body had endured, but the motion was enough to send you flying into his arms. You hugged him as tightly as you could, despite the wires and machines in the way. “Oh my gosh! Y-you’re okay!” you exclaimed between sobs. “Don’t ever do that to me again! Fuck… you had me so scared,” you cried, slumping over him.

Luffy groaned in pain under the weight of your embrace, and you quickly backed off, apologizing for any discomfort you may have caused. “Sorry, sorry,” you stammered, reaching out to touch his face gently. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just…” You traced his face, tears still spilling from your own. “You scared me…”

He looked like he wanted to say something. He struggled, reaching to take off the oxygen mask that was over his mouth. His chest heaved as he took in the air without the help of the mask, something clearly on his mind. Not even discomfort seemed to be at the forefront of his emotions. His voice was raspy and faint, and his words were disjointed as he tried speaking. “Ace?” was all he could ask, confusion evident in his eyes. Your heart sank. You knew that question too well– it was a name that would soon carry a heavy burden for him.

Your confession to Luffy could wait. All those feelings you had just realized can be kept to yourself. Right now, he had more important matters to deal with, a grief that would require your complete and utter support. It wasn’t about you, it was about being there for him during this point in his life. So, you held back those words of love that were on the tip of your tongue. Those can wait. Right now, he just needed you to be there for him more than anything.

#Nina Responds~✦ #Nina Writes~✦ #one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #straw hat luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #x reader

[barelylivingscholar]

Arlecchino with a daughter tw: unhealthy family relationships, manipulation, and gore(?), suicidal thoughts, unstable/mentally ill daughter. Not for the faint of heart, heavy angst, a somewhat positive ending in the last part(?) (Do not read if uncomfortable)

An: I am backkkkk, second semester and last semester’s finals kept me busyyyyyy but I’m here again to post some stufffffff!! Not hsr related but like I also write for Genshin now, apparently… Will post a part two, I guess? “Father. When am I able to hang around with the others? I have done everything that you’ve asked for.” A young girl asked, to which “Father” responds with, “You need to focus on the task in hand. I still have many more missions for you to do before I set you free.” The girl sighed, knowing very well that she may as well never be able to be allowed to play with the other kids… For a moment, the girl had wished that she wasn’t the only one to deal with this kind of burden. The burden being, the “successor” of “Father.” She wanted to play with the other kids as well, but alas, her father does not permit her to do so. Instead, excuses are made, and the standard Fatui discipline is instilled in her mind, always have to act proper and professional, not allowed to shed a tear, or to feel strong feelings regardless of what the matters are. I hate it here. I do not wish to stay here any longer. Every day feels like I am only made to be the person that “Father” wishes me to be. I am never truly happy. I am sinking. Father was not  family. This whole thing is and always was, a lie. Do I ever get to be free? Perhaps I can set myself free. There is a way.  ̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶e̶̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶i̶̶s̶, ̶a̶̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶d̶̶o̶ ̶i̶̶t̶? --- After burning the corpse of their enemies, I return to the House of the Hearth, albeit bloody and face that is smudged of dirt, the smell of blood and gasoline lingers around me. With every passing servant, caretakers, and also children as well, unsettled and left shaken up at the sight of me. I stained the carpets red. I wonder if “Father” would notice as the carpet is in the same shade of the blood of her enemies…? Will she punish me and discipline me? Although words are exchanged, no form of physical harm done, I am still left isolated.  Like I am to be a monster kept away from people… I feel caged.

This time, I didn’t bother to clean up and went straight ahead to father’s office. Where I know I’ll be punished for such a careless mistake. “Father, I have returned.” I greet, looking to see her eyes staring straight at me. For once I don’t cower. I simply walk up to her and wait for her response. I have no reason to be scared, right? I don’t think I care anymore. Father’s eyes narrowed. The sight of blood that wasn’t mine, the smell of gasoline, in her eyes, I may as well be the filthiest child in the house. One that is simply, uncouth for the position of “successor.” “Why have you not followed protocol? Especially contingency 8? Have I not taught you well?” Her voice sharp, dissatisfied with my performance. It must be a surprise for her that her “successor” had become disobedient. What is she going to do to me, I wonder? Dispose of me? Or would she find someone else who is to succeed her as the “Father” of the House of the Hearth. “I… I have no other excuses.” I was unable to control my voice. It was shaky, wavering. I hate it. Father’s eyes seemed to had harden. I am interested with what is going to be the left of me once this is all over. I look forward to it. I want her to snap at me. Kill me. Foul words for a child like me, but this is what I planned. Maybe it is best that I sleep in eternal slumber instead rather than live a life full of misery. I have nothing to be grateful here. I am not thankful that I am still alive today. “…You are hereby stripped of the title “successor.” You are no longer worthy of the title. I am disappointed.” Is that it? No severe punishments? My mind raced; I was unable to comprehend why had she punished me in a way that is so… Little? Had she gone soft? I do not remember anything that made her want to punish me lightly. Don’t I deserve… More? My brows had furrowed. “Father” did not miss that. “Daughter… Are you, upset?” Her voice sounded confusing, to me. Why do you suddenly care? I don’t understand you at all. I do not feel safe at all. Are you really “family?” “…I’m fine.” I say, my voice a little tight. Unshed tears on my face, I am no fool. I do not need your love.

“You are now excused.” Never had I ever left her office so quickly after that. I had to get away…! I need to get out of here… I breathed heavily as I ran and ran… Until there is nowhere to go. The heavy snow had engulfed me. And soon… I was unconscious. I awoke to an unfamiliar place. This is not the House of the Hearth. I quickly got up, ignoring the sudden rush of blood shooting up due to how fast I went up. I ignore the throbbing pain on my forehead, I focused on my surroundings instead. Where am I? This place is… Different. I jolted as I felt a hand on my shoulder, immediately backing off and grabbing a hidden dagger in my boot. “Stay there! I will stab you!” I hissed. Glaring at the mysterious figure. They looked… Kind. I am not supposed to feel that way. There are no kind people in this world. Everyone I know will always lie to me, manipulate me for their gain. Just like “Father.” Just like them…

The stranger had knelt down and attempted to soothe me. I only responded with aggression and threats. They weren’t phased at all. “Who are you? I am no ordinary orphan! I am a murderer!” I shouted, clearly agitated. The man in a familiar coat had not reacted violently at all. I am confused. And angry. “I am Pantalone. “Regrator” from the Fatui. I assume you are one of the Knave’s lost children…” My eyes widened at the statement. He is no ordinary man… I should’ve known, I gritted my teeth and gripped my dagger tight. “I am not her orphan! I am no longer a part of that… I could care less if you are a part of the Fatui, I will die gladly in vain if I have to fight for my freedom!” I hissed. The man is amused. I can tell by the look in his eyes. “I have a better proposal for you, child.” “Regrator” inquired. I had not chosen to back down even at the prospect of an offer. “What makes you think I will take it?” I replied, gripping the dagger tight. “I will not surrender you to the Knave. Rather, I’ll take you in as my disciple.”

Disciple? Is this man sick in the head? Why would I agree to that? It seems “Regrator” had heard my thoughts, and so, he added, “Although, it is up to you if you would rather be surrendered back to the Knave… Or join me and I’ll give you a much better purpose, in life… Not that you have any choice on the matter if you decline my offer…” I had no sense of purpose to live for. I am merely an empty shell of what I was once. I have nothing to achieve… In the end, I don't have what it takes to truly end my life. So I will follow my new superior. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be easily obedient. I am rather mad.” And it was the start of something anew…  I had become, “Regrator’s disciple.” I wonder how “Knave” will react to such arrangements… An: Part two will include Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. There will be other characters who will be included as well but, part one's story was set before Lyney became the sucessor of the House of the Hearth. I am thinking of interesting ideas to write for this story and some alternate routes as well... We'll see once I whip up part two.

#platonic genshin x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #pantalone x reader #fatui harbringers x reader #platonic genshin impact #daughter!reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! could I request Argenti, Boothill and Jing Yuan when someone tries to flirt with their s/o? I absolutely adore your writing btw!! Hope you're doing good!!

Boothill

Has a bullet with their name written on it and it was in times like theses where he wishes his beacon hadn’t been tampered with, just so he could curse the bastard out for merely brushing shoulders either you.

Words such as:

Mother fudger

Heck

And Gosh darn it

Weren’t exactly going to scare the person flirting with you off with their tail between their legs but threatening to shot them would. However after the person had scampered off, Boothill would be subjected to you scolding him about threatening people for simply flirting with you, when there were other ways to do so without the inclusion of unnecessary violence.

Boothill can’t help it! He hates it when people flirt with his darling and he isn’t one for sharing you either, he’d much rather hog all of your time and attention for himself! You were his partner! Not everyone else’s!

‘Boothill.’ You said warningly.

‘What?’ He said as he tugged you into his side, keeping his arm at your waist possessively. ‘He was getting a little too cosy and I had to remind that fudging idiot to keep his hands to himself.’ He adds with a smirk, stealing a kiss from your lips.

His jealously stems from his own hatred towards his metal body, you could find someone else who could feel you in your entirety beyond from their face and head, unlike him.

‘I get that and I thank you for running them off, but you know you don’t have to worry about me looking at anyone else.’ You reassured him as you held his face in your hands and watched as his smile falters and his featured relaxed into your touch. ‘You’re all I want, you’re all i’ll ever need regardless of your inability to physically feel.’ You then pressed your forehead against his, feeling him push himself further against you in a selfish need to feel you. ‘You’re my handsome, handsome cowboy.’ You whispered.

‘I am your handsome, handsome cowboy.’ He muttered under his breath.

Argenti

He’s not jealous in the slightest.

He’s the most trusting in the strength of your relationship and you to even allow for an ounce of doubt to permeate his thoughts.

If anything he’d agree with everything the person was saying about you while adding onto it, making the person feel as though their attempts at flirting with you were useless, especially when the cherry haired knight beside you was casually waxing poetry on your ethereal beauty.

‘Indeed they are a beauty to behold indeed.’ He’d say as he knelt before you and held your hands in his all the while making sure his eyes remained glued on you as he spoke. ‘I’d kneel before their alter for the rest of eternity if it meant achieving the impossible and catching their gaze, they truly are my reason for breathing, the reason I see beauty whenever I travel, as they are the true beauty I have been seeking for my whole life.’ He finishes by kissing the back of your hands softly, his thumbs caressing the skin there as though they were porcelain.

The person who was flirting with you left not long after because how could they compare with that?!

All they said was that you were cute and Argenti took that and made you come across as though you were a deity lost to time, finally having been found after so long.

They knew they couldn’t win and left for easier people to pull their mediocre pick up lines on.

Argenti is your Gomez, you are his Morticia. There was no one getting between you two because the love you had was stronger than most.

Jealousy doesn’t exist when you actually trust someone whom you claim is half of your own soul.

Jing yuan

He finds the face they make upon realising who’s s/o they’ve been flirting with particularly funny to be even remotely jealous.

Not to say that he doesn’t get jealous, he does but it’s not nearly as evident. He’s self assured in his relationship with you that he didn’t even think of the person flirting with you as a threat even in the slightest.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your riveting conversation but I’d like my partner back now.’ He’d say as he stood behind the person flirting with you.

‘Look buddy I found them,’ the person looked behind them, and upon realising who was behind them, the words of annoyance were quickly discarded as they could only stare at a smiling Jing Yuan, ‘first…’

Jing yuan raised his brows as the Cheshire smile on his lips only grew at the evident regret across their face. ‘Hmmm? Cat got your tongue? You seem a bit pale, maybe you should go sit down and rest.’ He suggested and watched in amusement as the person didn’t fight back, but instead wordlessly followed his instruction and walked away for you both to go somewhere else.

‘You’re having too much fun with this.’ You’d tell Jing Yuan as he placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the establishment.

‘What can I say, their expressions may be the same every time but that doesn’t stop them from being more humorous than the last.’ He replies with a chuckle as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. ‘However I cannot blame them for finding you as appealing as I do if they’re so desperate as to flirt for your attention.’ He adds and you huff and crossed your arms. ‘As if you were any different.’

Jing yuan raised his brows, silently telling you to continue.

‘When you wanted my attention, you would sit next to me and rest your head on my shoulder before falling asleep.’ You added and Jing yuan chuckles. ‘I didn’t-‘

‘All. The. Time.’ You cut him off, emphasising each word that left your mouth. ‘Yangqing told me that you only did that to me, no one else got that special treatment from the all mighty general.’ You smirked at Jing Yuan who muttered a soft ‘Yangqing.’ under his breath as you held onto his side. ‘It doesn’t matter now because I thought it was extremely cute.’ You reassured him with a kiss to the cheek as you both walked home, tucked closely against one another, the events that happened prior having completely been forgotten as you reminisced the past.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr imagines #hsr imagine #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #Honkai star rail imagine #Honkai star rail imagines #hsr boothill x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr argenti x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan imagine #jjng yuan imagines #argenti x reader #Argenti imagine #Argenti imagines #boothill x reader #boothill imagine #boothill imagines

[sgiandubh]

On leadership

This is a personal comment on @luhafraser's last post, where she wrote, in plain English:

'But I can't help but notice that since I joined this fandom, what we have in all the groups in this fandom are "leaders", they come and go, new ones appear, or reinvent themselves. There are people that stand out and lead others to follow their ideas and statements. It is these people that receive information, have sources, receive pics, and are fed by "anonymous" (Sorry, but a lot of things that have already appeared could only have come from someone "inside"). I know we are all adults, but there are those who know how to influence or who are led to be influencers, there are those who understand that and there are those who don't.'

Dear @luhafraser,

You wrote a couple of things with great confidence, as you usually do, and I feel I have to say something,

I have invited you already to name names, not allude to persons in your posts, as you so transparently seem to be doing right now. So yes, I felt looked upon and judged. By you (and not only you). Since Day 1. You thought I was never going to respond, well - you were wrong. The day has come and the day is now.

Dear @luhafraser, while I do immensely appreciate your real qualities (intelligence, humor, sleuthing, etc.), I am less a fan of this kind of little games, both in public and behind the scenes. My sudden apparition seems to have bothered you, with Anons asking you (June 20, 2023) if I was really a new person joining in and you denying it without taking the time to talk to me:

This is simply not done, my dear. I have openly and transparently engaged with people since Day 1 and never lied about my own circumstances. Your answer started a flurry of speculation that kept people interested all summer long and forced me to dox myself. So kindly prove me and all the others I am not a newbie (something completely impossible to do), do it in public and own the things you post in here.

I am not a leader of anything, @luhafraser , and I have no wish to be regarded as such. Ever. I have learned, in 20 years of my high-level public service career, that being the boss corrupts and exposes. But yes, I did want to be a disruptively positive voice in what I felt to be an intimidated community. I wanted to bring more clarity and all those research skills to all of you. I wanted honesty. And I, above anything else, wanted to help. And I am sorry that people agreeing or liking what I post seems to bother you. It is not something I can help you with. It is what it is. There is a place for all our voices to be heard in here. Every single one of them.

I have no inside information on SC and never did. I have not betrayed anything that was shared with me in DMs and only posted things when adamantly asked to do so, after careful vetting and only from people I knew. However I am a hell of a bloodhound when I am set to find something and I am rather good at what I do, also in real life. I also know when to stop and will never share things that would be legally questionable. It would expose us and it is a risk simply not worth taking.

I am not here for clicks and likes. My block list is three or four times bigger than my dash. I do not care for fame, but I do care for a couple of trusted people that became real friends. It is for them and for them only that I am not giving you satisfaction and quit.

I keep my promises. I will not go anywhere. If you do not like what I write, please unfollow and block immediately - this goes for anyone that feels bothered about me being here, in any way. I have no wish to start a war with any of you - that would make Mordor glee with joy for months. But please do me and yourself a favor: if in doubt, go now. I cannot stand duplicity, never could.

I hope that sets the record straight. Believe it or not, I have no hostility towards you. Not a single ounce.

I am not expecting an answer.

[Later edit;] I am glad I doxed myself. Very glad. But that is another story.

#fandom #shitshow

[stylerm2world]

I really disliked this episode and will probably stop watching. My comfort show, now feels unrecognizable. It really sucks to say that.

How this episode handled Tim’s perspective of the breakup was so out of character to me. Tim’s complete lack of acknowledgement for how he hurt Lucy and trying to pretend things were normal, “you clocking out?” was baffling.

When a person you claim to love, asks for an adult conversation, you decide your best response is “I have nothing for you,” is disgraceful. I don’t understand how you dismiss the request, shrug your shoulders and don’t even make an attempt. To add insult to injury, the indifferent way he talked about her to others felt so disrespectful. I no longer recognize this character. To me, the character they have built for the last 5 years, would never have been that deliberately cruel talking to or about Lucy. Clueless, sure, cruel, no.

Once again, I come back to this terrible writing. I didn’t recognize Tim. I understand the purpose of him yelling at Aaron was a call back of season 1 Tim, but it ignores all of Tim’s character growth. Tim’s character development from his friendship with Lucy, even more so, than the romantic relationship feels like it’s been completely forgotten. It feels like a betrayal of Tim’s character development. Tim’s progress was one of the best storylines on the show.

At this point, the repair Tim would have to make with Lucy and their relationship, even friendship, feels insurmountable to me. How do you go from saying I love you two episodes ago to this bull. The writing is atrocious. The one small caveat that might make all of this make sense is if this is all some master plan to trap the doctor. Even so, Tim has traumatized Lucy. It’s a betrayal trauma.

I can acknowledge Tim’s pain and trauma. I get he is going through it, absolutely. I have so much empathy for him. I am a therapist and work with clients like this all the time. I always understood where he was coming from, until this episode. His PTSD can be a reason for him acting this way, but it’s not an excuse. The utter lack of remorse and cruelty for purposely hurting someone you claim to love, feels so unlike this character. So I am done.

Really unpopular opinion: I wish Wade would have validated Lucy’s feelings rather than just telling her to tell Tim everything she said.

Side Note: I am so tired of female characters being portrayed as sooo understanding and empathetic that they accept any treatment because “he loves me.” I am tired of seeing female characters trivialized to the point they throw themselves on the alter of men’s emotional immaturity and unavailability. Tim’s right, Lucy deserves better. Normalize women walking away from men who claim to love them, but treat them like shit. Love without trust is not viable.

Add in Lucy’s WOC character being sacrificed for white male character development feels ugly.

#chenford #the breakup #the rookie

[nihilnovisubsole]

Because of your latest post: not sure if you’ve answered this before, but how does someone even entertain the idea of writing for the game dev industry? Did you start out on indie games or just write before and show them your work? Since it’s such a subjective field etc

if i have, it bears repeating! here's a rough timeline of what i did. never discount the value of luck and the kindness of friends

2016: i was doing a random freelance transcription job when i saw @theivorytowercrumbles post about writing for voltage. they reblogged the studio's open casting call for new writers. since it was so lenient - no experience, fanfic samples allowed - i applied. they hired me for their new project, but let me go after a trial period, citing that the tone of my writing was a bad fit for that game. i foundered for a while after that. i don't take rejection well. i started dangerous crowns to try to make money from writing some other way.

2017: one of voltage's producers reached out to me and said they'd started another project that i was a good fit for. she felt letting me go was a mistake and wanted to snap me back up. i said yes, i mean, are you kidding? so i started on reiner's route.

2018-2019: i kept at it. i took on diego's route. it occurred to me that i wasn't making very much money, but i liked my coworkers, and i was building my portfolio, so who cared? i also finished dangerous crowns, and a handful of people bought it, but certainly not enough to support myself or anything.

early 2020: between the pay and creative differences with voltage's team, it started to sink in that i needed to find other work. i applied to the few open game writer jobs i could find, but with only mobile romance in my portfolio, i got nowhere. i threw in dangerous crowns samples. i tried to network on twitter. i still never made it to the interview phase. i foundered for a while again.

late 2020: the voltage writers went on strike. i gave a statement to a journalist that one of obsidian's narrative designers noticed. we became acquaintances over it. another old friend of mine threw me a life raft in the form of a different contract, better paying, on a non-romance indie game. i took it gladly. i added a twine game to my portfolio, too. i kept applying. i got a few interviews, but something still didn't click.

2021: i finally accepted that i needed formal help. i did a portfolio workshop. i got resume coaching. the coach passed my name to a writer on the company of heroes team. they liked me! they also paid me more money than i'd ever seen in my life. at the same time, obsidian advertised a narrative job opening. i applied on a lark and let my ND pal know i was doing so. why not, right? college-new-vegas-fan me would want me to. they rejected me, but not before i passed their writing test and two interviews. i had nothing to lose at that point, so i told my ND pal that i was bummed. she gave me a golden piece of advice: "you came really close. try again."

2022: obsidian had another narrative opening. i threw myself at it. i was now going to annoy them into hiring me. since i was a known quantity from applying six months before, they had no qualms about interviewing me again. this time, it worked out, and i've been there ever since.

what's the common denominator here? i met people who thought i was all right and gave me a hand up when i needed it. the standard advice is to work with a community of your peers instead of trying to get your heroes to senpai-notice you. it's not that they don't care - they just have their own thing going on, and your peers could be the heroes of tomorrow if the right project comes along. i also found the portfolio was the end-all-be-all when it came to job hunting. i went through a grieving process with that! i'm not afraid to admit it. i wish studios had held my degree or dangerous crowns in higher regard, but i just had to make games in a wider variety of genres, and that was that.

one caveat: narrative is a really saturated field right now. a lot of people want to write, and there aren't many openings. it's not uncommon for big studios to get hundreds of applicants. larian probably got over a thousand for the job they posted recently. i feel awful saying that, because i don't want to discourage you, but i'd feel worse if i didn't let you know what you were getting into. if it's something you want, you should try! keep an open mind about the random projects you may find. you never know where they'll take you.

#asks #anon #workjob

[inkareds]

I, Carrion - Hozier Daemon Targaryen 5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list (tba) // ko-fi // taglist

✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy) ✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes) ✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out. 

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose. 

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died. 

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited. 

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her. 

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age. 

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content. 

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity. 

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you. 

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved.  You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit. 

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life. 

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him. 

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy. 

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes. 

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.” 

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing. 

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

 Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women. 

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to. 

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn. 

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in. 

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially. 

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden. 

The roguish prince grinned. 

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you. 

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him. 

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements. 

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you. 

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?" 

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable. 

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned. 

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you. 

“Now why would I do that?” 

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.” 

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage. 

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.” 

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted. 

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave. 

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm. 

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression. 

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm. 

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.” 

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms. 

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house. 

But now it sounded different. 

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.” 

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you. 

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.” 

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you. 

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you. 

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.” 

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?” 

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite. 

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations. 

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away. 

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot. 

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour. 

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows. 

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement. 

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses. 

“Loyal.” You answered. 

~

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens. 

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have. 

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep. 

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep. 

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past. 

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over. 

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious. 

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight. 

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair. 

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod. 

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.” 

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care. 

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.” 

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.” 

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction. 

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you. 

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze. 

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed. 

Your daze broke almost immediately. 

“Pardon me, my prince?” 

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,” 

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned. 

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him. 

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind. 

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression. 

“Why?” was your only question. 

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why. 

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before. 

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully. 

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction. 

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.” 

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air. 

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines. 

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you. 

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind. 

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice. 

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on. 

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.” 

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave. 

~

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father. 

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself. 

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne. 

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier. 

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply. 

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room. 

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you. 

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you. 

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure. 

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat. 

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward. 

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard. 

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?” 

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction. 

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front. 

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll. 

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair. 

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet. 

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.” 

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!” 

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest. 

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position. 

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself. 

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it. 

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?” 

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!” 

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you. 

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea. 

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

~

What followed after came in quick succession. 

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare. 

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary. 

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know. 

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive. 

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself. 

You will survive. 

~

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys. 

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration. 

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties. 

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win. 

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found. 

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand. 

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time. 

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off. 

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen. 

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him. 

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that. 

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother. 

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend. 

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you. 

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them. 

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well. 

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge. 

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye. 

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one. 

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions. 

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name. 

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever. 

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life. 

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt. 

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away. 

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck. 

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife. 

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones. 

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death. 

~

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused. 

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter. 

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face. 

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing. 

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed. 

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead? 

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him. 

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him. 

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound. 

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was. 

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak. 

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises. 

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room. 

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid. 

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly. 

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth. 

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside. 

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened. 

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak. 

“Who are you?” he whispers. 

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing. 

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.” 

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care. 

~

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew. 

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened. 

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved. 

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved. 

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on. 

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares. 

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you. 

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours. 

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real. 

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare. 

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more. 

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago. 

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods. 

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent. 

Daemon choked. 

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless. 

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead. 

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear. 

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest. 

~

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes. 

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever. 

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it. 

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!” 

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon. 

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form. 

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly. 

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace. 

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!” 

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?” 

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air. 

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war. 

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off. 

At the question, the mood thickens. 

“Let’s talk inside.” 

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts. 

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start. 

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad. 

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever. 

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand. 

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes. 

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up. 

That brought you to that very moment. 

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you. 

Daemon was the first to break it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology. 

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him. 

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time. 

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you. 

Anything. 

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped. 

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions. 

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act. 

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house. 

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time. 

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet. 

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon #daemon fluff #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst

[olderthannetfic]

i saw this post today where this person was talking abt fandom racism and was pointing out some real issues within my fandom and favorite ship that I too had noticed… but then kept bringing it back to the lack of one particular other ship they liked, when it's like, no that's not the problem, and that ship is unpopular because those characters have zero romantic or sexual chemistry and barely any scenes together. (it was really funny that someone had reblogged this to take their 'lack of seeing this one character in a sexual way in fic miiight be racist' complaint to be like 'i think you're right! we should have more fic about [a long list of different ships involving that character with people they have ACTUAL chemistry with].' it was really funny. ofc op totally missed the point they were making there.) anyway i just feel like way too many useful conversations about this stuff are ruined by people making it about shipping or other really subjective fandom preferences. i get that this is because something like 'number of fics X ship or character has on ao3' is an objective measure, and something like 'level of orientalism in how a lot of people are writing this desi character' is not, but i wish people would realize it tends to alienate more people that it converts. and ime, it's often the people who maybe would most benefit from hearing those criticisms (e.g. are writing unintentionally racist stuff in their works, and are someone who would want to know about that and how to do it differently) who tune it out the second you make it into insulting their shipping preferences.

i mean, there WAS some real racism in the star wars sequels fandom, including among the fanfic/shipping side. not just the shitty dudes harassing kelly marie tran. we saw the really bizarre 'predator' language people directed at john boyega just for making some joke posts on instagram about disliking reylo and its shippers. it was the very classic racist thing where people see something as automatically more threatening when a black man does it. ....but how many people had already tuned all that out because the people most outspoken about the racism in the fandom kept reducing it to 'if you ship reylo over finnrey, or kylux over finnpoe, you're a racist'? it's like a boy who cried wolf thing. if you've shown that you can't uncouple serious discussions and concerns from just being pissy that your otp is not more popular, people are going to see you as someone who can't be taken seriously and then ignore you when you do have a real complaint. it's like how i'm sure that some of stitch's essays are thoughtful and important, but i have no desire to read stuff by someone who is infamous for harassing people just for what they ship. i don't feel like i can take any of that person's judgments about fandoms i'm not in, for instance, seriously.

that's not to say fandom preferences in shipping can't ever be influenced by racism (or other 'isms') but is it ever really *that* specifically that is the problem, or the broader pattern it is part of? and i feel like 'maybe fandom is a little too focused on het and slash ships between two young skinny conventionally attractive white people' is a message more people are open to than 'your specific white M/M or F/M otp is racist'

anyway it reminds me of the stuff i've seen sometimes in academic fandom studies about how you can't really honestly study a fandom where you're deeply mired in its discourse - you need to focus your work on fandoms that you're familiar with but not in that way. and i think that maybe also applies to some of these discussions about fandom racism and misogyny. maybe you're just going to have better takes on something when you're not deeply invested in other unrelated arguments about it, like about which ship is the most popular. like i could not care less about star wars shipping and have zero take in reylo vs. finnrey, so that's why i feel like i could trust my perception that the way a small minority of reylos were posting about john boyega's instagram posts was racist. it didn't matter if he was genuinely being a jerk to them or about their ship. he obviously wasn't a 'predator' and it was pretty telling language for a group of largely white people to use about a black man making fun of their ship on a different social media site.

--

The laying pipe thing was blown so out of proportion, yes. Call it sexist, sure, but it wasn't fucking predatory.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

I remembered the song All Dolled Up by theOrionExperience and realised that it's SO Holydust besties coded!! A fun night out to forget their troubles for a few hours and just enjoy each other's company.

You can take this as a writing prompt if you feel like writing about it <33

Indigo (platonic holydust advocate)

As a fellow platonic holydust advocate I'm in! And somehow I made it about Adamsapple angst lol It's my superpower apparently.

Feel free to send more prompts/asks!

"Hey, you wanna go out and get fucked up tonight?" Angel asked Adam as he stood in the sinners doorway.

Oh boy did Adam need some fun. "Fuck yeah, ready when you are."

"Great, let's go." Adam followed Angel out and down to the lobby. He didn't miss the side eye that Angel gave Husk. "We're going out, later."

"Where are you going?" Lucifer asked from his spot on the couch.

Adam rolled his eyes. "Out. Later." He stomped out the front door. "Everything okay with you and whiskers?"

Angel snorted, "I could ask you the same thing about his majesty."

Adam looked away scowling. "Fair enough."

"I'm too sober for this shit, let's get plastered."

Adam and Angel went to a popular club in Hell, where they did shots and drank so much their blood was more alcohol than ichor by midnight.

"Can you believe he said that he wanted to slow shit down? Like shit baby if we go any slower we'll turn into fucking snails! We haven't even fucked yet." Angel drunkenly ranted as he downed another shot.

Adam hummed, taking his own. "At least you don't have everyone making fucking jabs at you about being the King's fucking boy toy. Saying that you're just a royal cock sleeve til his cunt wife comes home."

Angel frowned. "Okay you win. That sounds fucking awful. Who the fuck said that? I'll fuck them up for you!"

Adam laughed. "It's mostly that Bambi motherfucker but he doesn't know shit! What Luci and I have is real!...... I hope." He looked down sadly at the table they were drinking at. Adam felt his lip quiver.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Of course I do! I always have, I don't really believe in all that soulmate bullshit but if I did, I'm pretty sure he'd be mine...... Why else would it hurt this bad? All I ever wanted was for him to love me." Get a few drinks into Adam and he becomes super honest. "I never forgot him. How could I? I tried so fucking hard to hate him Angel, but I can't, not really."

"Well, if he can't wake up and smell the fucking coffee and see how great you are then it's his loss bud. Someone will see it." Angel tried, it was hard to be comforting while half snapped. Sure, him and Husk had issues but they were any sized compared to Adam and Lucifer's drama. Dating a King comes with King sized drama, who knew. "I thought you guys were dating."

"Who fucking knows. Fucker sends so many mixed signals."

"Let's forget about all this shit for now and just have a good time, yeah? We need it." Angel said handing him another shot.

Adam downed it in one go. "Fuck yeah."

By the time they got home to the hotel, it was only Lucifer and Husk still waiting up in the lobby for their boyfriends. Adam and Angel burst through the door laughing and joking.

Adam plopped down on the couch next to Lucifer and Angel was taken to bed by Husk who wished he had breath mints for his baby.

Adam looked at the king. "Heyyyyy.~" He leaned over and poked Lucifer on the cheek. "How you doing?"

"You're fucking drunk as hell."

"Nah uh, you're drunk and short." Adam burst into a fit of laughter at his own joke and Lucifer rolled his eyes playfully.

"Yup, very drunk. Can you even walk?" Lucifer asked as he moved to stand in front of Adam.

Adam picked up his leg and looked down at his foot. He gasped loudly. "Oh my god! I have no toes!" Lucifer had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Apparently drunk Adam forgot he had hooves.

"Those have been there the whole time, Adam."

"And you weren't gonna fucking tell me? Rude." Adam pouted and crossed his arms. He whined when Lucifer picked him up bridal style and held him close. "Hey!"

"Shhh, let's get you to bed." Lucifer thought about placing Adam in his own room, but decided to take him to his instead. Really, he was there so much they might as well just share the damn room.

Adam had taken to playing with Lucifer's bow tie and looking intently at the king. He felt his heart flutter, he loved Luci so much. He wrapped his arms more securely around Lucifer's neck and placed a kiss on his cheek before nuzzling his face into the king's neck breathing in his smell. Brimstone and something more earthy Adam couldn't place.

This surprised Lucifer, Adam wasn't one for gushy feelings or showing of affection. But he'll take what he can get.

Lucifer sat Adam down on the bed and helped him under the covers. Once he was settled, Lucifer got in on the other side. He watched Adam lay there, looking all around until his eyes landed on Lucifer. "Why don't you love me?"

Lucifers eyes went wide. "What are you talking about? I do love you."

Adam sniffed and looked away sadly. "That's not what I hear..."

Lucifer would really rather have this conversation with a sober Adam. "Look, I don't know what people are saying but listen to me when I say this. I love you, Adam. You mean the fucking world to me." He placed his hand on Adams cheek.

"Yeah?" Adam gave him a teary smile.

"Yes." Lucifer kissed him sweetly, he tasted like tequila. "Get some sleep, dove." Adam held out his arms and Lucifer chuckled. Drunk Adam was also very clingy. "Come here, you."

Adam snuggled against Lucifer's chest and sighed happily, he was even happier when he felt a hand in his hair messaging it gently.

Lucifer would have to be sure to show Adam how much he means to him. When he was sober of course.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #platonic holydust #ask

[nereidprinc3ss]

talking about that one anon that mentioned spence fingering i sort of noticed this pattern along your writing, where it’s much more consistent than the typical p in v spicy dynamic. although i would like to see more of your spencer engaging in this dynamic in other imagines/drabble.

but still, but you go girl! we love reid’s fingers!

LMAOAOAOAOOA yeahhhhh……

i think i just have a thing for it bc

1. fingering is a dying art

2. it’s like soooo intimate??? like we do EVERYTHING with our hands???? they are a big part of what separate us from quadrupeds and they make us capable of eating and writing and painting and working and traveling and creating and all in all they are tools used for efficiency and productivity and we can do terrible things with them but we can also use them to HOLD OTHER PEOPLES HANDS??? TO TOUCH THEIR FACES???? TO LOVE THEM??????? idk it makes me emotional. thinking about how love is a choice we make and a way we use our bodies for the joy of it rather than just to remain alive makes me emotional so YES someone make me a shirt that says i ❤️ fingering !!!! bc i love how intentional and intimate and unnecessary it is!!!! i think fingering is a love language!!!!!!!!

3. i feel like piv sex gets repetitive really quickly and i don’t rlly know how to make it stay interesting when im writing it. im sure that’s probably objectively the wrong take but idk i just have more fun writing non piv smut for whatever reason!

i wish i could pin this post

this is my manifesto

#asks #ramblings

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Nine

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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The daisy that Kidd had welded was taunting you from its place on your nightstand. He was right that it’d never wilt but even if it could, the two of you likely wouldn’t last long enough to watch it happen. The cold metal material that comprised its stem and petals was ironic, a sardonic mimicry of what was beginning to feel like a fabricated relationship. You didn’t know what to think anymore, you no longer held distain for Hip’s advice though it could serve you no favors in your current situation. The writing had been on the wall from the night you’d met, the proposition of causal fun should’ve been a glaring red flag but you’d ignored it the same as you had many others.

You’d learned that Kidd was the type of person who could become enamored with someone and play with the idea of a relationship, but he seemed to lack the skills necessary to maintain the relationship once it was started. You assumed that years upon years of hardship and loss had significantly damaged his attachment style, the revelation doing little to help you work through the heavy sense of loss that clouded your psyche. Every day that passed was so dull, you couldn’t wait for them to end once they’d begun. You weren’t even sure how many days it had actually been and you honestly didn’t want to, it didn’t matter anyway.

Your phone was essentially out of commission on account of all the calls and texts that you didn’t have the strength to address. You could only read a few of them every once in a while, his words far too painful to handle. It was obvious when he was drunk or exhausted as what were once carefully selected words would turn into a barrage of mismatched phrases and letters. Killer had even reached out to check on you, he’d always been so kind. Sometimes you didn’t understand how they’d remained friends for so long, Kidd seemed to always be on some level of extreme. You wished you had whatever trait Killer possessed to make Kidd care for him so much, maybe then something meaningful could tether the two of you together.

You flinched upon hearing a car door shut just outside your home, a few short knocks on the door causing your heart to race. You did your best to peer out the window to identify the visitor but the angle made it nearly impossible. As you cracked the door open just a few inches, confusion knitted through your brows. Killer towered over you with his hands tucked in his jeans, alone and carefully considering what he wanted to say.

“I’m sure you’re upset and you don’t have to say anything, just please hear me out.”, he bargained with you.

“Alright.”, you replied after a moment, trusting Killer’s discretion.

“It really wasn’t what it looked like. He royally fucked up, but he did not sleep with her. I don’t know exactly how she ended up in the car with him, but she slept on the couch and he wasn’t interested in her at all. I can promise you that’d he would’ve told me if anything happened and if it had, I wouldn’t be here right now.”, Killer explained, “He woke up the next morning not even really knowing who in the hell she was. He was going to take her home and then come here to talk to you, but you got to the house before he had the chance.”

“He’s had more than once chance at this point.”, you noted, not exactly feeling like the situation was so easily rectified, “Is this something that he always does? If I believe you and go back to him, how long will it be before we’re right back here again?”

“I can’t say that this won’t ever happen again because I don’t know if it will or not. I hope it doesn’t, but Kidd is very temperamental sometimes and you know that just as well as I do.”, Killer replied with a very valid point, “I’ll be honest, I’ve only ever seen him this torn up one other time before… I wouldn’t have wasted your time or mine if I didn’t think it was worth it. He hasn’t slept and he won’t eat, all he does is fuck with shit in the garage all night, works, comes home, and then does it all over again.”

“I don’t know… This has been really hard, Killer. Things will be great for a little while and I’ll think we’re getting somewhere only for him to go off on me or leave me for someone else.”, you let your feelings be known, “I know that I love him, but I also know that I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know and I agree with you entirely, this can’t keep going on.”, Killer validated your understandably difficult position, “I’m asking you, as a friend, please give him a chance to explain himself. This isn’t something that I can fix or help him through, he’s spiraling without you.”

Killer watched you with hopeful eyes as you gave the situation some very intensive thought. To care is a curse and love is a cruel emotion. It’s manipulative, draining, and blinding above all else. It’s so beautiful when it blooms, but it is always met by the most gruesome of ends. Whether or not you still cared for Kidd wasn’t to be questioned, he meant the world to you and that would never change. That sentiment had come back to bite you so many times before but realistically, what more damage could be done?

“I’ll come see him, but I need you to be there.”, you relented as Killer let out a great sigh of relief.

“I’ll be right beside you, whatever you need.”, he patted your shoulder in an attempt to reassure you.

Killer held true to his word, staying at your side and offering as much support as he could in your respective circumstances. He waited patiently on the couch as you dressed yourself and kindly lead the way back to their shared home for you to follow. Kidd hadn’t noticed the two of you pull up and certainly couldn’t hear the slamming of car doors on account of the very heavy music that was blaring from the garage. The door was raised just enough for him to be able to walk out if needed, his bare and sweat-soaked back facing you as he leant over the engine bay of a worn vehicle. You stood just outside the door beside Killer, you couldn’t bring yourself to approach him and instead waited for him to notice the two of you.

After a few minutes had passed, he stood to retrieve a tool from his workbench. As he turned to resume tinkering, he caught sight of you and froze. His expression was facetious, not at all amusing but irrevocably indicative of how much he’d been struggling with all of this. There was no signature eyeliner or lipstick to speak of, only sunken eyes and dark circles in their wake. Trying to recollect himself, Kidd moved to turn the music down while Killer made his way to sit on their porch. He was close enough to intervene if things went sideways, but far enough to allow for some privacy.

You didn’t know what to say and it seemed like he didn’t either, the silence between the two of you growing rather awkward. Kidd looked totally defeated and while he was in the wrong, it wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed seeing. It felt like you could say anything and ruin him permanently if you really wanted to. Just as you felt doubt begin to chip away at your presence in the moment, Kidd extended his arms to you and gave you an optimistic look. Nearly all of your reservations faltered as you walked into his embrace, immediately being lifted off your feet and held as close to him as possible. His dampened forehead pressed against your neck as he folded himself around you. His grip was tight and as though he’d loose something precious if he ever let go.

“(Y/N), I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.”, he spoke against your skin, “I promise you that nothing happened. I wanted to get the fuck out of there and when she asked me for a ride home, I guess I brought her here. She slept on the couch and I was about to actually take her home when you pulled in.”

“That’s only one small part of the much bigger problem, Kidd. You left me alone at a party full of people that I don’t really know and then you brought someone else home, only for me to find the two of you together the next day.”, you kept your voice low as to not escalate the situation, still stern enough to convey your point, “That was one of the worst feelings I’ve had in my entire life. I felt like I meant nothing to you or anyone else, that I was just something to throwaway and be forgotten.”

“It’s not like that and it’s never fuckin’ been like that.”, he said seriously, lifting his head to face you, “Please, let me make this up to you…”

This was something different, something that you hadn’t seen from him before. You hated everything about this, the way he’d make you feel, the way he’d sunken into himself, and the way that everything in your life seemed to revolve around him. Of course you wanted to pick up where you’d left off, but it went beyond that simple concept. Something within you knew that if this ended, there would never be another Kidd. In fact you’d never have the opportunity to be truly happy again, you’d only be mourning what should have been. It was unhealthy and that reality had crossed your mind, but in this moment in his arms, you didn’t care.

“I’ll give you anything you want, (Y/N)… You tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”, he pleaded with you while resting his forehead against your own, his tired eyes glazed and searching for any hint of clarity.

That always seemed to be his answer and you weren’t sure if he really meant it or if he just wished it were the truth. You wanted to believe that he had the ability to commit himself to an established relationship, but even that was a far cry from your current predicament. You undoubtedly wanted Kidd and it was looking like this would be the price you’d have to pay if you wished to stay with him. Perhaps this was the moment of unraveling, a realization of something you’d been missing all along.

“This can’t happen again.”, you repeated the same condition you’d given him before, praying that you’d never have to say it again, “I know this is hard on you, but you have to stop being so self destructive. People care about you and whether you intend for them to or not, your actions have very real consequences.”

“You’re right…”, he trailed off, seemingly taking in what you’d said, “I don’t want to lose you, (Y/N).”

“You won’t. We have some things we need to work on, but you won’t. I’m right here.”, you reassured him, lifting your head to kiss his forehead, “How about you go shower and then we’ll eat something? That’ll be a good start.”

He took your chin in his hand and placed a very passionate kiss to your lips. The gesture made up for the things he didn’t know how to say, also working to fluster Killer as he watched the two of you. He’d certainly tease Kidd for it later, happy that the two of you actually managed to reconcile with one another. You followed the two of them into the house and took some time to appreciate the comfort of Kidd’s bedroom. It was a sick sense of consolation, the familiarity of something you held so dear that was on the edge of being ripped from your hands at any given moment.

Part Ten

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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#kid pirates #one piece #one piece fanfiction #anime #one piece x reader #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #captain kid x reader #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #what you won’t ever find #captain kid #eustass captain kid

[ludoka]

So.... What would happen if SOMEONE decided to rewrite Freaky Fusion but eliminated the fusions, left the plot of the hybrids and the time travel plot?

Long text after the cut:

The fic would begin by introducing the hybrids and the students' reaction to them. Cleo and (I think it was her?) Draculaura would give the same comments as in the movie. But here the hybrids already established in the series would not be ignored. Lagoona would talk about how she herself is a hybrid. What's more, we could even add that she is the fruit of a freshwater Nymph and a sea monster.(I just made this up while writing. I have no idea if it's canon or not but I like it.) Your intervention in the conversation could leave the atmosphere a little tense. Frankie tries to lighten the mood by insisting her friends go to class.

In another part of the school, Deuce and Jackson are in the former's locker talking about the same topic. Or rather, Deuce is nervous and frustrated by how everyone is reacting to the hybrids. While Jackson doesn't care too much. He has already had his conflict with the students regarding what he is. You already know this is temporary until the novelty of the matter cools down. This resolution does not reassure the gorgon at all. In fact, it frustrates him enough to vocalize his concerns. The whole topic was really making him very uncomfortable. On a good day, he's already having trouble coping with the fact that he's a hybrid. This only makes you feel worse. To the point of being terrified that other monsters will know what he really is. Jackson tries to console him but the bell at the beginning of his first class forces them to cut the conversation short.

What they didn't know is that a certain gossiping ghost, who was collecting information for his blog, was listening to them.

The first class is Dead Languages ​​with Professor Rotter. Class is pretty boring today. Which causes some students to become distracted and murmur among themselves. Cleo is one of them and tries to talk to Deuce (who is more in the clouds than on earth)One of the topics he brings up is about hybrids, which he immediately realizes is the wrong topic to talk about. Since she sees how her boyfriend tenses very visibly. Which makes her remember that she's been on thin ice ever since she almost got her boyfriend's best friend killed just because of her pride. Said friends... It is also a hybrid. Cleo is seriously thinking about asking Frankie to sew her mouth shut so she doesn't screw up again. (I'm thinking about placing this after my own version of Ghoul Rules. I feel it is appropriate. It seems like he's been building up these nerves since before this day. It's more ✨ dramatic ✨)

The rest of the class passes without pain or glory. Only at the end does Rotter remind his students that in the last period of school they have to present their family tree work. (because I don't remember how the homework they were given in the movie was written)And he points out that Frankie will be the first to speak.

A stressed Deuce is the first to leave the classroom, closely followed by a worried Cleo. She is a couple of steps behind him. Thinking about how to talk about whatever is bothering the gorgon. Just when you think you've finally found the words, a mass notification from Spectra's blog catches your attention. She is about to ignore it but when she saw how the students began to stare in her direction, she decided to quickly check just in case. The title leaves her baffled. "Deuce Gorgon, the most handsome cool boy in school, is a hybrid?" That was the huge title that headed the blog. Cleo looks up with the mission of searching for answers but notices how terribly pale Deuce is while looking at his cell phone. She catches his attention. He looks at her scared. In fact, Deuce becomes hyper aware of his surroundings. He notices how everyone is looking at him and starting to whisper around him. This sends him into a spiral of panic and he ends up escaping the scene. It ends somewhere in the school, near the indoor pool. That's where Lagoona finds him. Deuce realizes that she is not alone. She is accompanied by Sirena von Boo and Neighthan Rot. When he asks about them, Lagoona tells him that she became friends with Sirena in their previous class. They saw him run out of the hallway and read the blog. Lagoona and Sirena went to look for him, they ran into Neightan and he joined the search. (mainly because Avea and Bonita were still in class)

This is where I cut the explanatory text and give the concise points of this particular plot:

The plot itself has the hybrids talking about feelings and experiences. Trying to help each other in all this sea of ​​rumors and staring. Mainly by comforting Deuce and letting him open up to them.

There would be some scene with Draculaura and Clawd talking about their relationship. The topic of vampire biology would be touched upon a little. How they age and mature slower than other deadly monsters.

I would also have Deuce and Cleo talking about this matter.

Also the reaction of the students, encouraged in a negative way by Toralei, towards Deuce and his "deception".

In general: Lots of feelings, heavy conversations and ✨drama✨

Now you will ask yourself: Where is the time travel plot in all this? Good. Let's go back to the moment of Rotter pointing at Frankie.

After watching the teacher leave the classroom, Frankie lies down on his table and writhes in his misery. Robecca and Ghoulia who were by her side comfort her and ask her what's wrong. She explains that she has nothing useful to expose. His parents avoided the topic of family too much and gave him nothing to work with. So you're probably going to fail the class. Invisibilly appears (because he is another gossiper) and comments that he also goes through the same thing. His father isn't the most talkative when it comes to whatever turned him into a monster. Billy has a suspicion that it was an experiment gone wrong but he has no idea. He believes his father is looking to take the secret to the grave. Here Jackson Jekyll joins the conversation. (because in this school the concept of "private conversation" does not exist) Jackson comments that if there is a family that loves to keep secrets, it is the Jekyll family. It was easier for him to help Heath by putting together the family tree of his elemental family, than it was for Holt to find SOMETHING about his mother's family. They know that their great-grandfather is the one who started the whole Hyde thing but they don't know anything else. Not even what year his grandfather was born or how his great-grandfather Henry Jekyll and his great-grandmother met. It all seems like a big secret that no one should know about.

As he listens to them complain, Robecca has an idea. His father, before he disappeared, was a lover of science in general. He lived many years collecting information, meeting other scientists and doing his own experiments. She suggests they look for something in her father's workshop. Hopefully, they can find something regarding the Stein or Jekyll family. (Robecca apologizes to Billy for not being able to find a solution to his problem but he rejects her. He doesn't care much) Ghoulia was going to say something regarding work but after watching Deuce and Cleo leave the room, she decided that it was easier to help this group with their homework.

This is how Robecca, Frankie, Ghoulia, Billy and Jackson go to the Hexiciah Steam workshop.

While there, they don't find much. At least until Billy stumbles upon plans for a time machine. This draws the attention of the rest. Robecca takes a look at the plans and searches the workshop if there is something similar there. And, indeed, it was a large machine that was in the middle of the room. As they examine the machine, Billy comments that it would be great to test if the thing works and use it to do his homework. That makes them pause and contemplate the idea. The first to be against it is Ghoulia. She doesn't think it's very smart to mess with the timeline just for a school project. Frankie and Jackson support her. But Jackson also comments on how MAYBE if they didn't interact with anyone and were just there to watch, they wouldn't actually be doing anything. It also suggests it could be a good thing for Robecca. After all, it's the most direct way he can find clues to his father's whereabouts. This raises the robot's hopes. Ghoulia is still against it but after seeing her friends' hopeful looks, she decides that MAYBE it's not such a bad idea. As long as the necessary measures are taken. The girls and boys celebrate this beforehand and look for anything about the operation of the machine. They discover that for the machine to work and there to be a way to return, someone needs to be in the current era. Monitoring travelers through bracelets that serve as trackers and controls that allow them to travel by time and place. Ghoulia and Jackson note that there is a very specific way these bracelets work but decide to find out later. Since this was just a round trip to see if the machine worked in the first place. So with everything prepared Robecca, Frankie, Jackson and Billy get ready for the test trip. Ghoulia gives them the go-ahead and turns on the machine. The quartet enters the machine and goes to a year not too distant, just to try it out. More specifically 1950's New Salem.

In fact, the machine works! After watching a bit, the four try to go back to their time to tell the zombie. But can not. No matter how hard they try, the bracelets don't send them back to their time. In reality, it sends them randomly to other places and times. They panic a little (A LOT).

Currently, Ghoulia is worse. The disused machine was broken enough that it had imperfections that none of them noticed. So now the machine was causing fluctuations in time itself. Making time go slower or faster randomly. This is also causing beasts and animals from different places and times to appear today. Not to mention that, for some reason, his friends can't come back. So it's up to Ghoulia Yelps to fix the time machine, prevent the timeline from being destroyed, send the beasts and animals where they belong, and bring his friends back. It's... A pretty normal Monday, if Ghoulia is allowed to comment.

So this subplot has:

Jackson, Robecca, Billy and Frankie traveling through time. Uncovering family secrets and finding clues to the whereabouts of Hexiciah Steam.

To them trying to survive times that they only read about in books, saw in movies or paintings.

And Ghoulia saving the day behind the scenes.

Yes... A standard Monday.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope you have a happy new year and I wish you the best of luck in meeting your new year goals. 🎆❤️✨🎆

#I wish someone other than me would write this. #But I am aware that that person is not going to write it the way I want. #So I guess it's up to me to organize my time to write this once and for all. #I'm not going to let go of this fandom until I have at least half of this story #monster high #Ah! #Nobody is having a very good time in this story. #There is a bit of crisis and panic everywhere 😂 #jackson jekyll #holt hyde #This could fit into: #This is part of: Jackson and Holt's Wild Year #frankie stein #robecca steam #Invisibilly #ghoulia yelps #deuce gorgon #cleo de nile #lagoona blue #sirena von boo #bonita femur #Avea Trotter #neighthan rot #draculaura #clawd wolf #Freaky Fusion #Mh #mh g1

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

#thats my honest reaction 😐 #to be fair ive only seen 20 minutes of the s1 finale bc my parents are watching it but. mmmmm kinda mid #like. the casting is definitely an improvement since the last time they tried a live action but it feels like the writing falls flat #or maybe im being harsh bc ive only heard negative criticism on it beforehand. but fr anytime u bring up the original its already #good and not just because its the original. so much fucking detail went into it to the point of someone noticing azula wielding mai's knive #to how well thought out irohs character is used as a way of uniting the cast especially as zukos foil #i heard that sokkas sexism was toned down and i have to agree that feels like a cheap move. like i get WHY they think it would be better #but its not about how that reflects on real world its about how it affects the story. sokka starts out as a misogynistic asshole because #it makes it that much more impactful when he changes. toning that down makes it flatter and makes his character development weak #and someone pointed out they didnt even make him wear the kyoshi warrior uniform and i know it feels like such a small detail but #come on man. they did that in the original because not only does it help him really walk in their shoes - wearing 'feminine' clothing and #makeup and having suki explain its significance but it also ties in with the shows theme of harmony and intersectionality #i was also disappointed when they had the fire sages explain how the water tribe draws power from the moon because in the original it was #IROH who explained it to aang and everyone else BECAUSE we as the audience is under the impression hes with the 'bad guys' #and it builds up to how he learned from the other nations which reconciles his past as a war general and his character overall #AND its an excellent starting point for the cast and audience to understand how the nations arent as closed off as you would think #plus you would think its only fire nation doing propaganda but they expanded on that with earth kingdom censorship and it WORKS #a lot of things in the live action also feel arbitrary like. they gave momo a near death experience for 5 minutes for no reason #im firmly on the stance of bringing back filler moments instead of putting major events right after each other so that u give your #audience a sense of time passing and to really absorb the story. but i think thats more like shock value than filler and yeah its a small #thing to gripe about but those things build up and its really annoying. the thing abt avatar filler moments is that however small #its at least meaningful. hell even the beach episode emphasizes how isolated zuko and his friends are as child soldiers #i also swore to never watch the first live action since it was that bad but i really liked the stylized tattoos they used for aang #anyway. those arejust my thoughts. im not gonna watch the rest because im a ride or die for the original aftr growing up and #rewatching it at least 20 times as a kid. but theres definitely room for improvement and i wish ppl wouldnt take it as 'better' just cuz #netflix is adapting it. i wouldve killed for them to just reanimate the entire avatar series and touch NOTHING ELSE no redub #no changes to the story. just reanimate the thing and leave the rest alone and youd make easy money just the same #ALSO its very jarring not hearing jack desena and dante basco voicing sokka and zuko cause their voices were the most recognizable to me #i get that its because its live action but im allowed to feel a little sad abt that. and uncle irohs accent was really soothing #yapping

[novantinuum]

self care is unfollowing people who spread negativity on ur dash!! like Damn! yeah i theoretically Agree with your crit but i really Don't wanna see it either bc i want to Celebrate content instead of hyperfixating on the stuff i didn't like about it! yeet!!!

#jen rambles #i had someone call a SU fic i wrote once a 'fix it' and i'm just like #NO!!! #it was Not a fix it! #because a fix it would assume that i think i am Better and More Smart than the creators and that is hubris i really don't want #to take upon myself #i just like!! taking the elements i like and writing More of it! #that's all #i also feel like there's lots of people who just crumple when things in fiction aren't coherently explained #but i've always seen those holes as Opportunities? #idk like on one hand is leaving holes in your narrative bad writing? likely #but also the very soul of fan creation has Always been stepping alongside canon and re-imagining it #and oft filling those holes #and i just wish more people would join me in doing so in good faith to the source material #instead of doing it in that sort of 'ughhh so like since canon fucking sucks i'm fixing it :)' way #one day i'll prob Myself talk about the issues i had with the plotting of This Thing and you'll see tons of overlap with what #others are saying about it #but like idk. just why make that your sole focus? doesn't that bum other people out too? #like it kind of breaks my heart seeing people so fixated on the imperfections that they can't even enjoy what Was #i just don't get this mindset

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads

What Stalks Among Us

YA thriller

two best friends skip a field trip to explore some old forgotten backroads - and get trapped in a looping corn maze full of weird shit, including their own dead bodies

they have to figure out how to get out, what’s killing them, what’s causing the maze, and face their traumas

fat girl MC with anxiety, both are bi and have ADHD, no romance

#What Stalks Among Us #aroaessidhe 2023 reads #sarah hollowell #wait i just noticed it's them on her shirt on the cover... #i enjoyed this a lot! #it really immediately gets into it huh. not any build up. but in hindsight that makes sense #it gets a little repetitive in places but it works and I love how it all tied together #no romance #(it DOES explore past abusive relationships as a theme but very much just the effects of healing from that rather than showing #much of the actual relationships) #I really love how it emphasised how important their friendship is without there even being a question of it being romantic #(but also exploring that a bit re: the side character stuff in a way that I think is great) #it does make references and then explain them a lot (though also i get that could be an adhd thing with ur mind going on a tangent) #she even is like man i wish my brain would stop making all these pop culture references! #that plus a few other aspects of the writing felt a bit unsubtle - but also it is YA its allowed to be #that and a few other aspects of the writing felt a bit unsubtle - but also it is YA its allowed to be #also some of the references made me laugh LMAO. including: #'remember when you thought the maze followed crossroad rules from supernatural. do you think the maze knows about super hell' #i cannot fault someone for saying heckin wimdy because I sure do that. well not 'heckin' but #anyway felt like realistic teens #bisexual books

[teleportationmagic]

There was a tumble post I read on Pinterest a long time ago that put out one method for character writing - that instead of assigning characters strengths and weaknesses, to instead give them character traits and see how that played out positively and negatively. I really do love this as a writing guideline, and I suspect that's also why I love Steph so much - because in her story, every single aspect of her both bites and saves her.

Her rage is often framed as wildfire - she threatens to kill people when she loses herself to that desire for things to be right, coming from a fierce desire to protect people, protect children, that have noone else to be angry on their behalf. She's desperate, and it's why she puts on the costume in the first place, it's how she meets Tim and Cass and Bruce, and its in the midst of that desperation where each of them find her lacking, critically. She can be completely bullheaded, which leads to her keep trying to be a vigilante again and again and again - with Robin, it kills her. As Batgirl, it's what finally allows her to come into her own, to help people without being doubted. She's straightforward, she can miss the obvious, she's tries so hard to make up for her mistakes, she can get blinded trying to prove herself, she knows how to make real connections and can be so hurt when she feels that those relationships aren't what she wanted. She's messy through and through, and for all that she can still find her way through triumphs and adversary, with a smile on the other side.

#I love her so much you don't even know #Stephanie Brown #dc #Look. part of this absolutely comes from adversarial writing - she was not a liked character at dc #which leads to situations where traits that run more benign or positive in other vigilantes her age are reworked into clear weaknesses #because of the war games in the room #her batgirl run does the opposite - in a lot of ways it uses a bit of a softer image of Steph than her Spoiler or Robin runs #but the character that all those iterations bring together fascinates me #and I wish with the force of a hundred stars that someone in dc cares enough about her #to actually explore that in a text that incorporates that much of her canon #I think it would be fascinating. personally #or they can follow in the batgirls tradition. I guess #(I exaggerate a little - Batgirls has been better in the later issues about her #if not about Cass #but stillllllllllll)