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gay-dorito-dust · 30 days

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How high on the clingy/protective scale these boys are …

Dick: a solid 8.5/10.

A very clingy bean.

Dick would be attached to your hip 24/7 if he could but he couldn’t answer that makes him sad.

In the wise words of @obsessedwithromance on one of my recent posts; ‘if Dick was a dog, he’d be a husky.’

And he’d make a very vocal husky at that with how often he whines and whinges whenever you tried to move from his grasp, acting as though every attempt in removing yourself from his arms were an attack against his character. So he will take personal offence to you wanting to leave him out in the cold and desolate place that was your bedroom. 💀

‘Stop trying to get out of my arms.’ He moans, tightening his hold on you as he buried his head into your neck, locking legs with you for extra measure. ‘Dick, I love you but you’re being too clingy for me right now.’ You reply and had just noticed the error of your ways almost immediately and were about to explain yourself but it was already too late, for you had set Dick the human husky off.

‘Me? Clingy? I thought you liked it when I was clingy? Why the sudden change? What did I do wrong? Why don’t you love me?’ Dick began his tirade and you could only lay there and let him talk your ear off -and loudly might I add- about how you apparently didn’t love him enough, which was a bunch of bullshit, but dick was too in his feelings to listen to reason. You’ll have to kiss him to shut him up, there’s no other option.

So once he’s settled down, he’ll go back to cuddling against your back,smiling dopily while you could only congratulate for a job well done at defusing the situation form getting any worse. You love your dramatic human husky and you wouldn’t change anything for anyone.

Jason: 7.5/10 or a 8/10.

The only time you’re seeing this man be clingy as all hell if he’s in a particular mood and want your affection, which might as well be all the time with this man, or after a not so great nightmare.

He would wake up in a cold sweat and immediately look for you and hold you against his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear, only just until his breathing evens out and not so tense in the muscles. Until then he holds onto you tightly and familiarises himself with you in anyway that he could, whether that be counting your eyelashes, noting the different shades that make up your eyes and much more.

At least just enough to help him gain some sense of self and awareness that he was safe and sound from all harm.

Like Jaime, Jason would watch over you like a hawk as Red Hood without a shadow of a doubt, and Jason has his reasons to do so as he knows the type of people who litter the streets of Gotham at night like the back of his hand. He doesn’t want to subject you to that sort of life of constant fear of having to look over your shoulder in hopes that there wasn’t someone following you home.

For in his minds eye, he’s your sole protector and the one thing that stands between the scumbags of the street and you. Jason doesn’t take this position he’s given himself lightly, it’s unlike him to anyway, as your safety is his top priority and he’d do anything to obtain it; whether they way it’s obtained was morally questionable or not, he doesn’t care for as long as your safe, he’ll live to learn with having permanent blood on his hands.

Damian: 5/10 on a good day. 2/10 in general.

He’s not an overly clingy person. Protective? yes. Clingy? No. It’s just not in just nature and he can be very awkward going about it too.

Damian knows he doesn’t have to constantly survey you 24/7, he has more faith in you and your abilities then most. He knows that you won’t call upon him if at all when faced with a situation that you could easily resolve yourself.

However if you were to get hurt on his watch or otherwise, that’s when he gets slightly clingy and will attempt to be within any space with you possible. Damian shows care in a completely different way than most and will more or less act like a guard dog when it came to you.

This little dude will point his sword at anyone that comes into close contact with you while glaring at them, meanwhile you’re having to push the blade of his sword down and away from the poor victim, only for Damian to raise his sword back towards their throat once more.

‘Pack it in.’ You’d hiss.

‘No. You’re practically useless when hurt, so let me deal with this one.’ Damian said.

You purposely ignored the fact that he had just called you useless and instead pushed the blade of his sword down until it was pointing at the floor again. ‘He’s not even a threat, just a regular citizen. So you can stop it with the fear attics now.’ You told him in a hushed tone. Damian meets your eyes with a glare of his own. ‘How you can be certain he’s a harmless civilian? What if he’s a low life thug of an underground drug syndicate on the rise? You can’t allow yourself to trust every face you meet.’ He replies, not one to back down for anyone, not even you.

You sigh as you rubbed the sides of your head. ‘Well at least try not to cause more issue for your dad. I swear between you, Jason, Tim and Dick I don’t know who gives him the most grey hairs.’

Jaime: runner up for Dick’s crown with also a 8.5/10

He’s clingy in a sense that he fears of loosing you constantly.

Khaji-Da doesn’t make the situation any better as it only encourages Jaime’s Innate clinginess tenfold, and now Jaime can’t go a couple of minutes without offering to join you on wherever your going.

He just cares about you very deeply and wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he’d ever lost you despite having the ability to stop any harm from coming your way. So needless to say that you spend most of your time with him and his family is a severe understatement.

It’s not as though he doesn’t trust you, he wholeheartedly does, but that trust doesn’t extend to potential outside threats. Hell, he would even go as far as to watch over you as Blue Beatle, much to the behest of literally everyone that isn’t Khaji-Da because the scarab is just as clingy over you in a sense that you were Jaime’s mate and there for should be within close proximity to him at all times.

It’s endearing but I think it’s about time you told Kahji-Da to cool it on the whole threatening people you talked to with plans to eliminate them…

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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Can't help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you're standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

"It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?" a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry:

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction:

“It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

”Y/N didn’t interrupt a thing,“ he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

”Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,“ he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

”Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.“

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn't feel lonely anymore.

It's been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn't left the bed once. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn't an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn't bare the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn't leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn't help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He's only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He's startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human's silhouette — and then another few to realize that it's you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

"They told me no one was allowed into your chambers," your hushed whisper burns his ear. "The silliest thing I've ever heard!" you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. "I knew I had to find a way to come see you."

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that's still healing.

"Does it hurt?"

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won't be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit.

"I will take his eye," you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might've heard it wrong.

"...Whose eye?"

"Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours," you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head:

"You shouldn't," his voice quiet but firm. "The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed."

"Well, maybe he is too old to think straight," you retort. "You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail," you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

"Are you sure I can't take his eye?"

At that moment, he can't stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it.

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can't lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke's eye isn't worth the trouble.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince.

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid's persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it's you standing in front of him.

Aemond barely has time to register what's going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can't see it, he's grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly".

"I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval," he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

"While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers," you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

"I am friendly enough!"

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you're clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing".

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you're talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand:

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There's a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure:

“Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,'” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn't sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

"The gem compliments your eye very well," you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

"We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is."

"This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks," you chide him lightly. "And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?"

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you're too concentrated on something, and Aemond can't help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface.

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glaring at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn't seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone's counting). It's not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn't leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to the King's Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon's birthday, but Aemond didn't care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond's sympathy for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider Y/N part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it's all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days. Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say:

“It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you. Aemond hesitates:

“I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add: “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can't hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can't think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to Y/N,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don't seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe Y/N is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them.

“You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him:

“Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.”

The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again:

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute.

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You're looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face. Taken aback, you inquire:

“You pity me?”

He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can't get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“Y/N, I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,“ he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

"Yes, I remember it pretty well," you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

"The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack," there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. "Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you."

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

"Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories."

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying.

"Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her," the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

"Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in," he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

"I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness," he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

"When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine," you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

"I think you actually enjoyed it", you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

"I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you."

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

"The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar," he pauses, catching his breath. "You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you".

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm's length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you're in, you look so beautiful, it's mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence:

"Aemond, please don't give me false hope," your heartbeat is too loud, you don't hear your own voice. He does.

"I do not wish to marry you out of pity," Aemond takes the last step. "I want you to be my wife because I'm in love with you," he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. "I've been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually," his voice gets low. "For what feels like an eternity," Aemond murmurs.

"Why haven't you told me?" you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

"I was afraid you didn't feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?" his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

"Tell me that I am wrong," he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

"Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices," you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were thirteen, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fanning over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth.

His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that's to come.

author's note: I'm sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I'm a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don't want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, I hope this was bearable, thank you for reading!

💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 💞 my masterlist 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley's song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there's also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. P.S. I'm also on AO3 (lol, who isn't), in case you prefer to read fics there.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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mrchiipchrome · 3 months

Text

Rain

W.C.- 3k

“So, when we’re on the topic, did any of you know that the world cup wasn’t Alexia’s first time dyeing her a crazy color?” You ask your scattered teammates, the team bonding being at your and Alexia’s place after a lot of fuss. The midfielder slung across your lap looked at you with wide eyes, the story embarrassing from her perspective.

“Amor, let’s not talk about that” Alexia’s nails close around the skin of your torso where your shirt had ridden up. The action makes you yelp, it being fairly unexpected, but out of your peripheral you can see the way she smirked in self amusement.

“No, no, let’s talk about it.” Mapi’s face is lit up by a mischievous grin, clearly wanting to hear the embarrassing story. It was the first time since her injury that she seemed like herself again, she’d been so sullen as of late.

“Yeah Ale, we want to hear the story.” Pina shouted from her place across from where you and Alexia sat together, her back leaning against the couch as Patri poked at her. The younger girl is getting all the more annoyed at her best friend's repetitive actions, slapping away her hand every so often.

“Por favor Ale, it’s a funny story.” Your hands run up and down her thighs softly, squeezing ever so lightly at times. It’s fun to see the way her resolve breaks with every stroke of your hands, the way her eyes slowly shut as she thinks about the implications that the story might bring.

“Okay then, tell it, but you have to finish what you started later.” The last part is whispered only for you to hear, leading to an embarrassing dark red color spreading across your cheeks. You sit up straighter and shift the midfielder around on your lap for it to be more comfortable for you both.

“Let me take you all back in time, sometime in September of 2010…”

September 7th, 2010.

“Amor please, I’m in need of some new hoodies, since you steal them all as soon as I put them on.” You pleaded with your girlfriend, the muddy clothes covering your body nearly leaving a trail of dirt behind you.

“That’s just because you buy the best hoodies, it is not my fault.” She puts her hands up in an ‘I’m innocent’ gesture, the girl looking at you with her most innocent expression. You weren’t asking for much, wanting her to bike with you to the mall located an hour away to spend some time together.

Well, it wasn’t like you were apart often, the two of you stuck at the hips.

“I need clothes, you don’t want Mila to see me shirtless, right?” Mila was another girl in your team, a girl that pretty clearly had a crush on you, something that Alexia detested.

“No. You’ll just have to wear my clothes I guess.” Her little self-assured smirk melted your heart, a puddle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Mhm sure, your clothes don’t fit me amor, but good try.” You wink at the brunette, her shy smile covering her lips.

“Y/n Y/l/n, you better have not tracked dirt into my house.” Alexia’s mum, Eli, called out to you. She knew your habits and how you’d always forget that your shorts were dripping dirt.

“I haven’t Mrs Putellas, I promise.” Eli always knew when you were lying, and that sing-songy tone was a sure sign.

“Okay, but you’re the one who’s going to wash up. And once again, call me Eli.” Your cheeks darken at the reprimanding tone your second mother used. The Putellas family was as much family as your own.

“Yes Eli.”

“Y/n/n, I’m going to take a shower, you stay out here. Don’t sit on the furniture until we’ve washed you off.” Alexia is already halfway up the stairs when she calls out for you, her sister peeking her head out of her room at the sound of your girlfriend's voice.

“So, Y/n, I heard that you were having trouble getting Alexia to agree with you and I have a preposition for you.” The young girl told you, your face showing the confusion you were experiencing.

“Preposition? Where did you learn these words Alba?” Her expression turned into that of a nonchalant person, waving it away.

“Don’t you worry about it, now I want to pull a prank on Ale, but I need money and help for it, and you need hoodies. So you give me money, and I’ll buy a couple of hoodies at the mall, then you help me set the prank up, okay?” She went through the plan like it was the easiest thing in the world, and really it wasn’t that difficult.

“How much money do you need? And what is the prank?” You asked the girl, her smile immediately turning mischievous.

“Oh I need like 100 euros, so we prank Ale by putting that temporary hair dye in her shampoo, the one that goes away in a few washes, give her a scare.” Alba rubbed her hands together like a supervillain would, laughing evilly.

“Alba? What are you doing? Stop trying to scare my girlfriend off.” Alexia, freshly showered, comes back down the stairs to the sight of her kid sister imitating the joker. “Come on amor, it’s your turn to shower.” Your girlfriend led you up the stairs by your arm, giving you the chance to look back at her still laughing sister. Nodding, the younger girl knows that you’ve agreed to her plan.

————

“Wait, so it was Alba’s idea?” Mapi asks full of confusion, she didn’t know that you and Alba had been so conspiring.

“Yeah, but I had to do basically everything.”

———-

“Is that enough?” You hand your girlfriend’s younger sister a bunt of money, the girl looking over it quickly and giving you a quick thumbs up.

“Mama, Alina’s dad is driving us to the mall, I’m going now.” The girl was clever, that much you couldn’t deny.

“Choose a good color now Alba, okay?” She nods quickly at your quiet whisper, she knows not to choose black or blonde or any other boring color.

As she leaves, you make your way up to Alexia’s room, tripping over the random footballs laying all over her floor. On the soft bed she laid, your amazing girlfriend whom you couldn’t love any more even if you tried. Her smile distracted you even more as you tripped once again, hands catching your body.

“Bébé, you need to be more careful, you can’t be tripping and falling like that. We need you on the pitch.” She chastises you playfully, eyes flitting over your prone body.

“Yeah yeah I know, I’ve heard it before, you’re just so distracting.” You push yourself off the floor in one swift move, ending up on the brunette’s bed. She smiles as you shimmy your body up the bed, eventually settling comfortably beside her.

Your hand comes up to cup her jaw softly, thumb moving over her bottom lip, pulling it down carefully. She leans in slightly, letting you make the first move to initiate the kiss. Your lips meet hers in a soft embrace only moments later, pushing your tongue inside her mouth.

The impromptu make out session ends when there’s a knock at the door, Alexia’s father peeking in to see what you were doing. He isn’t shocked to see the two of you laying next to each other, talking.

All you could think there was ‘thank fuck for quick reflexes’.

“Come on amor, I’m taking you on a date.” You pat her leg as to tell her to get up from her position on the bed.

“Where are we going?” She jumps off the bed and sprints over to the wardrobe in the corner of her room, throwing the door open to ruffle through her clothes.

“I was thinking that we could go to a restaurant maybe, I want to spoil you.” The hand that holds up your head shakes when she glares at you with that sexy intensity, like she knew about your shenanigans with her sister.

“What are you planning?” She asks suspiciously, eyes reduced to slits as she looks at you.

“Nothing! I swear it’s nothing.” Alexia looks at you for another second, trying to decipher if you were telling the truth, which she seemingly deems you to have done.

“I’m watching you, don’t think I’m not.”

“I know you are, I’m so hot that you can’t keep your eyes off me.” You can see the way her eyes roll at your fake enthusiasm, shaking her head like a mother would at their child doing something funny that they definitely shouldn’t.

———-

“Another question, why would you take her on a date?” This time it’s Pina who asks, tilting her head at you.

“Well Pina, that’s what you do when you have a girlfriend who’s as hot as mine, and I’ll get to the other reason soon.” The girlfriend in question turns her head toward you, her fiery cheeks catching your attention.

———

“Wow, that was incredible.” Taking her to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city wasn’t on your list of what to do, but alas that was what happened.

You wanted to treat her before you pranked her.

“Thank you for taking me here bébé, the food was amazing and the company was even better.” You smile at her kind words, swirling the cola around in your wine glass.

The server comes back with your card after a few moments, just as you tell Alexia that you were going to the bathroom. The text you send to her sister gets an almost instant answer, telling you that everything was set up and ready.

“Amor? You ready to go?” She picks up her jacket at the question, walking with you to the exit of the restaurant. Her red lipstick smudges against your cheek as she presses a kiss to your cheek, the dark night sky lit up by the stars.

“Te amo bébé, thank you so much for this.” You can’t help but smile at her, she was all you wanted and more.

The rest of the walk back to Alexia’s house was spent in comfortable conversation, the girl asking if you wanted to stay over at hers.

When you both arrived home, she told you that she was going to take a quick shower whilst you made yourself comfortable in her bed.

Thankfully she can’t see the way your eyes widen, knowing that your plan was going to make it’s appearance way too early.

Waiting for Alexia to get out of the shower was almost as anxiety inducing as the prank itself, her reaction was sure to be good though.

It was when you were playing around with some stuff on her desk that you heard her furious voice calling out for you and her sister.

“Y/N! ALBA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” You rush out into the hallway to be met with Alexia in a black towel, her now blueish hair dripping onto the floor.

Alba runs into your back only moments later, looking like she was going to piss herself with laughter seeing Alexia’s face.

“What is this?” Alexia asks sternly, pointing at her hair. Alba doubles over in laughter, but you just stand there with a guilty look on your face. You recognise the expression on her face, one of incredible rage.

“We switched out your shampoo for hair dye, oh you should’ve seen the look on your face.” Alba says through laughs, her hand over her stomach, doubled over.

“WHAT.”

“Amor, it’s not permanent, it’s gonna go back to normal in a few washes, right Alba?” The young girl looks up at you guiltily, her not immediately agreeing, making you worried. “Right Alba?”

“Uhm, I might’ve accidentally bought the permanent one, pleasedontkillmeAle.” At the murderous glare she gets, the young girl runs off, her sister staying rooted in front of you.

“Don’t lie to me, were you involved in this?” At that moment you felt the most fear you’d ever felt, she was glaring at you like she glared at your opponents.

“Yes, I gave her the money and got you out of the house.” You answer truthfully, the wrath she’d get if you lied was way worse than anything else.

“Get out of my house.” Her voice is stone cold as she orders you to get out.

“Amor please, I’m so sorry-“

“No. Get out.” This time you didn’t even try to argue, her tone held one of finality.

And so, you walked home in the now cold night, freezing like no other. You deserved it though, of course you had to prank her.

—————

“Wait, how did you get her back? I mean you’re together now so you had to get her back somehow.” Lucy asks, the third time someone has asked something during the duration of your story.

“Shush, I’m getting to it.”

————-

Alexia hadn’t responded to your texts the entire weekend, she was reading them, but not responding. Though you had heard from her sister that she’d decided to commit to the blue hair and got it fixed at the salon.

Even though you’d apologized 100 000 times, she wouldn’t forgive you, and when she passed you in the hallways without saying a word, you decided it was time to take out the big guns.

Sprinting over to the middle school her sister went to, you quickly got her out of class. Alba looked at you weirdly when you told her teacher that you were there to take her to the doctors, even more so when you gave the teacher a paper, but nonetheless she followed you out.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” She asked curiously, looking up at you.

“We are going to make it right between me and Alexia, you are going to help me.”

The preparations only took a few minutes, the only hard part being stealing the ladder from the janitor's office, your elaborate plan was relatively easy to execute.

You knew at what time Alexia got out of class, it wasn’t hard when that was the class you were absent from. But it seems like the teacher was keeping her after class as you and Alba hid behind a nearby row of lockers.

“Where is she?” Alba whispered sharply, looking at you like you were stupid.

“Soon, she was probably just kept after class.” You whisper back just as harshly, the hallways empty by now leading you to spot your girlfriends much easier.

You can see her angry movements as she throws open her locker, taking out a few books. She’s closed it by the time that you reach her, Alba hidden behind you.

“Close it again.” You tell her, the woman looking at you with a mean glare, a glare that lightens when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes. The smile on your face widens as Alexia opens her locker again, gesturing for Alba to climb up the ladder and start pouring water onto your head.

Your hair plasters against your forehead, cold water making your clothes stick to your body. When you deem it enough, you quickly knock at her open locker door, the girl closing her locker again.

She can’t help but smile at the idiocy that was going on, her sister pouring water over your head with a flower waterer. In your hands were flowers, her favorite flowers.

“Alexia, I’m so sorry for pranking you, it wasn’t right even though you look amazing. Please let me make it up to you.” The water that ran down your face and into your mouth quickly turned your speech slightly slurred but Alexia couldn't help but think of how adorable you looked, doing the rain apology inside only for her.

“It’s okay, I forgave you as soon as I saw how hot I looked with this hair color. Just don’t do it again.” She breaks out in a full fledged smile, seeing how the water suddenly stops running down your face and how a paper rainbow appears above your head. “Oh look, it stopped raining.”

“C’mere.” You pull her into you by her waist, her lips meeting yours sweetly, before the sound of gagging breaks you apart.

“You guys are disgusting.” Alba exclaims as she gets down from the ladder, scrunching her nose at you.

“How did you even get Alba here bébé?” Alexia questions, you looking at her sheepishly.

“I may or may not have forged your mothers signature so I could get her out of class.” Your girlfriend slaps your arm at the confession, glaring at you playfully.

“Mama is going to be so mad when she finds out.”

“Meh, we all know that I’m the favourite.”

—————

“That’s how you got her back?” Lucy asks, her eyebrows raised at the peculiar way of apologising.

“Yup, she couldn’t resist my charm.” You tease the girl sitting on your lap, slipping your hand into hers, fingers fitting perfectly between hers.

“And Eli wasn’t mad when she found out?” Pina asks, the girl practically family.

“Oh, she was furious with me but only for a little, I am the favourite child after all.” Alexia rolls her eyes at you lovingly, the smile on her face tells you as much. You couldn’t believe that she was real, and that she was yours.

“It’s not like capi to let you get away scot free.” Mapi teases, the two of you had gotten up to a lot of shenanigans during your shared time at Barça and you’d always gotten punished somehow.

“She didn’t, I had to wear children’s clothes for a month after that since I quote ‘couldn’t grow up’, and yes there are pictures.” The girls around you immediately start trying to convince you to show them the photos, which you do after some convincing (and maybe one or two promises to take responsibility for your next prank.)

Safe to say that you get teased for the foreseeable future, though they do leave you alone after you’ve finally proposed after nearly 16 years of dating their captain.

#woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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babyleostuff · 9 months

Note

Hi hi! Could you possibly write more angst? (Any member) Like the mini ones (?) Like fights/arguments and whatnot :)) w fluff at the end (or ending of your choice :P) thank you!!! Love your writing!! <3

fights with seventeen | OT13

I'm SO sorry about being so late with this, but I've been really busy with my exams and I didn't have that much time to write. But now that my vacation began, I'm going to catch up with my requests. Still, I hope you enjoy this one <3

☾₊ ⊹ currently playing: a glimpse of us by joji

𓆩♡𓆪 CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

Of course you’d fight over small things, like in every relationship, but big fights are a very rare occurrence in your relationship. Seungcheol hates seeing you upset, so often those arguments will be over before they even begin.

But if you got into a big fight, it would get loud and messy. Seungcheol is competitive and stubborn, so if he gets fixated on one thing it can be hard to change his mind about it.

If you ever leave the house after a fight, he’ll become a worried mess. He'll call everyone he knows that you might have gone to and if none of them knows where you are he’ll be panicking massively. Don’t ever do that to him, no matter how angry you are at each other at that moment, he can’t stand the thought that you might get hurt and he will not be able to help you.

Would never allow you to sleep on the couch after a fight and even if you’d do that, he’d carry you back to the bedroom.

He’d blame himself for days if you ever cry during a fight, no matter whose fault it was, he’d always blame himself for making you cry.

𓆩♡𓆪 YOON JEONGHAN

Some fights would get you raising your voices at each other, but those types of arguments would be VERY rare and only happen if either of you were very tired or drained from any type of work or schedules.

Normally, neither him nor you would be able to raise your voices at each other, the fight in itself was painful enough, you didn’t need any screaming or yelling.

Both of you would try to explain your point of views, what you think the other did wrong or how they could improve themselves. You’d both be very respectful of each other’s opinions and never make fun or tease in situations like those.

Even during the argument, he’d want to hold your hand or at least be near you. He’d still want to feel connected to you and not put extra space between you. After the fight he’d also stay near you, hug you a lot and never let go of your hand.

𓆩♡𓆪 HONG JOSHUA

Your fights would be very mature and calm. Surely, you would get frustrated and annoyed at each other, but never truly angry or furious. He would never even let you.

You would resolve any of your arguments as quickly as you could, not even once thinking about giving each other the silent treatment. Even if he was away on tour, he’d try to talk to you as soon as possible or even text you, to let you know that he’d want to figure stuff out.

Sometimes, especially if it was more of a small argument, he’d be petty and annoying with you, knowing how to push your buttons, to make you more frustrated. But he would never take it too far, he’d just simply want to tease you a bit.

Knowing that you need some kind of reassurance after a fight, he’d always hug you tightly, kissing the side of your head, where there would be no place for any teasing. He would be very gentle with you then.

𓆩♡𓆪 WEN JUNHUI

In the beginning of your relationship he’d have a bit of trouble talking things out, as he never knew whether you wanted space or not. He was always too scared to ask, since he didn’t want to make things even worse between you.

With time though, you’d learn how to properly talk with each other about those kinds of stuff and your communication skills would only get better and better.

Still, any fights that you’d have would be very calm and neither of you would raise your voices at each other. If, for some reason, you’d get so angry that you’d want to say some hurtful things, you’d just take a break and spend some time apart, trying to collect your thoughts and think about how to solve the fight without hurting the other one.

The aftermath of any fight would be full of love and reassurance - warm hugs and sweet kisses.

𓆩♡𓆪 KWON SOONYOUNG

He’d get so emotional the second he figured you were actually having a fight. Especially during those big fights, that happened once in a blue moon, but still. He would be so torn, because on one hand he’s angry with you, but on the second IT’S YOU, how can he be angry with YOU?

He would probably say whatever came to his mind, not really paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth, which sometimes would do more harm than good. He would apologise right after he released what he’d said, and I'm sure he'd keep on apologising for the next few days, feeling extremely guilty.

After the argument, he would want you to hug him and keep him close to you, letting him know that you’re not upset with him anymore and that you still love him. He would also be clinging to you even more, trying to find comfort in your arms.

𓆩♡𓆪 JEON WONWOO

He is usually quite silent during your fights and you’d be the one who does most of the talking. He’d just simply nod to everything you say and share his view when you’re done.

Never raises his voice at you, no matter how angry or frustrated he is with you. Even after a tiring day, he’d listen to all of your complaints and try to work things out before going to bed. He can’t imagine sleeping without holding you in some way, and he knows that if you two don’t talk it out, you’d probably want to be left alone.

It’s hard for him to actually apologise, but you’d know he’s sorry from his acts of service. The next day, after your fight, he’d be extra attentive to you, never leaving your side and constantly asking you if you need anything.

If you’d ask him for space he, of course, would give it to you, but would feel so lonely without you by his side. He would even try to make your favourite dish to make you feel a little bit better and even though he’d fail massively, it would still make you all warm and fuzzy inside.

𓆩♡𓆪 LEE JIHOON

Very calm, but you're not always capable of telling how he actually feels. He could be fuming inside, but you wouldn’t have known. A lot like Wonwoo, he would be mostly quiet, trying to figure out how he wants to express his emotions.

Because he’s not great with dealing with his own emotions, he would have a bit of a hard time explaining his point of view on whatever you were fighting about. Still, he would be grateful that you were so understanding, even in such a situation.

If you’d want to take the couch, he’d let you. But, sometime during the night, he would come out of your bedroom with an extra blanket to tuck you in and make sure that you’re comfortable.

The next day he would be very attentive to you, but in a silent way. He’d try to make you breakfast, do the most important chores for you, help you out in any way that he could.

𓆩♡𓆪 XU MINGHAO

Any fights or arguments with him are very calm. Even though he sometimes wants to scream out in frustration, he never does that. He knows that screaming at each other won’t help out in any way.

His top one priority is to talk it out as soon as you both are ready, without getting more upset with each other. He just wants to get it over with and get back to normal.

I can see him holding your hand while you talk it out. He wants to stay connected to you and give you a kind of reassurance, that even though you're upset with each other, he’s still there for you and loves you no matter what.

The night after a fight is kind of silent. But not uncomfortable. You’re just very soft and careful around each other, not saying much, but still being in each other’s presence. You cuddle closely that night and exchange some comforting kisses as apologies.

𓆩♡𓆪 KIM MINGYU

Will either behave like a diva and drama queen or like a pouty child. It all depends on the situation, on whose fault it is and how emotionally he’s feeling. If he’s drained and tired, he won’t have the energy to fight with you and would want to resolve it as quickly as possible.

But, when he’s feeling like the usual him, the fights tend to get a bit bigger and emotional. He is stubborn, to the point where he’ll keep fighting with you even when he knows he’s wrong. Will constantly side eye you and sigh time and time again.

If he ever sees that you're getting really upset about the fight he will stop, though. There is nothing worse for him than seeing you so drained and sad and he’ll even apologise first, even when it’s your fault. He just doesn’t want to let such petty and little things come in the way of your happiness.

Even when you fall asleep still a bit angry with him, he’ll still cuddle you (or he would be touching you in some way, he just has to).

𓆩♡𓆪 LEE SEOKMIN

I’m sorry, but there is no way you could have a big fight with this man. The second he sees you getting upset or angry over something he has done, he’ll talk to you immediately.

Can get a bit emotional during fighting sometimes, but he never does that to manipulate you in some way. He just can’t stand the fact that you’re actually upset with each other.

Never raises his voice at you, never gets petty with you, NO silent treatments whatsoever. He doesn’t understand how someone can ignore their partner when they're upset with them. Why not simply talk things out and get back to normal? Every second spent on fighting, means less time to spend it on how you’re actually meant to spend it - happy and having fun!

Will always gives you a lot of hugs and cuddles after a fight, maybe not necessarily to cheer you up, but to reassure himself that you’re not going anywhere and to let you know how much he appreciates you.

𓆩♡𓆪 BOO SEUNGKWAN

So dramatic. So petty. So over the top.

He would be rambling non stop, not letting you speak. He would let out all of his frustrations and annoyances in no time, it would leave him almost breathless. After that, he’d listen to you and do his best to understand your point of view.

Big fights wouldn’t really happen in your relationship, as both of you would get too emotional and start crying and apologising upon seeing each other's sad faces. Still, you’d talk it out and never leave an argument unresolved.

He’d need reassurance after any kind of fight, big or small. It would make him worry that you might want to take a break from him or even break up and that’s when you’d have to tell him that you’d never leave him because of a silly fight.

After one of those silly small fights, you’d laugh about it afterwards, realising how stupid you both were to fight over something so insignificant.

𓆩♡𓆪 CHWE VERNON

He’d be very logical and reasonable during any of your fights, though I can’t really imagine any big fights happening between the two of you. You’d try to avoid any conflicts and always talk things out before they escalate.

If, for any reason, you’d want to sleep on the couch, he’d tell you to sleep in your bed and that he’d take the couch instead. You’d probably wake up sometime during the night and walk out to the living room wrapped in a blanket, laying down next to him.

There are no silent treatments with this dude, he’ll never let you ignore him when you’re angry. As passive as he usually is, he just can’t stand you ignoring him, especially when he doesn;t know what he has done to upset you.

Usually, you watch a movie after a fight to calm yourselves a bit and give each other some time to think, but still be in each other's presence.

𓆩♡𓆪 LEE CHAN

Please don’t fight with him. He’s always so soft spoken with you and it doesn’t change even when you fight. He absolutely hates fighting with you - hates the fact that he can’t hug you, hates that you’re angry and upset. He’ll do everything to make it right again.

There is a big chance that he’ll even cry during a big fight, especially when you both say things that you don’t really mean. He’s already mentally tired from all his schedules and he can’t stand the fact that he can’t find comfort in the person that he loves the most.

Similarly to Seungcheol, he will never let you take the couch and will never let you leave the house. He’s simply too scared that you might leave him or that something might happen to you and he wouldn’t be able to cope with that.

Even when you fall asleep still angry with each other, during the night, you’ll find your way back to him, cuddling into him.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

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Do you think all the characters are assholes?

Because i think they are despite their tragic backstories and i also don't think they appreciate Yuu enough, except for maybe the first years

I mean, the TWST characters are (mostly) inspired by Disney villains... Plus, they’re immature high schoolers still in the process of emotionally maturing. Of course they're not going to be perfect balls of sunshine. They're all going to be rude or have faults in their own ways, but they also have their strengths and charm points. I do call them assholes (lovingly), but I would hesitate to slap a singular label on any of the characters when they're all very well-rounded and morally ambiguous.

On the topic of Yuu, I think it makes sense that most of the cast doesn't really "appreciate" them. To begin with, most of the characters are not the openly sentimental types; they wouldn’t overtly express that gratitude even if it were present. Then we have to consider that Yuu isn't directly involved in their character growth or arcs in most cases; it's often the other characters who are confronting the OB boys or instigating, physically battling them to snap them out of it, and then comforting them afterwards.

As early as book 1, that pattern holds true. Ace is the one that initially pissed Riddle off. Adeuce are dueling Riddle. Ace decks Riddle and claims his last straw. Trey is the one calling out to Riddle as he's losing it. It's the members of Heartslabyul who gather around Riddle when he reawakens following the OB. (I'm not going to go through and list off what happens in every single book, but I'm sure you can think of many other instances... Lilia insulting Leona, Deuce and Epel having the heart-to-heart on the beach, Octavinelle's plot against Jamil, the twins checking up on Azul post-OB, etc.) To me, it feels like it is the boys and their bonds with one another responsible for the change, not Yuu's involvement. Yuu is usually along for the ride and actually does and says very little despite all the fandom jokes about "being the school's unpaid but overworked therapist" or Crowley's shallow claim that Yuu can help the boys learn to cooperate (which feels more like a vague ruse only shown in the prologue to shoehorn Yuu into the plot). There's actually very little in-game that shows them being active in helping the students change for the better. Much of the time, the boys can resolve their own struggles to get along without Yuu being there (like all those pair-ups in book 6–sure, it may have taken a while, but the fact remains that they did eventually resolve their own issues and cooperate without Yuu having to orchestrate for them; this also happens many times in events like Port Fest, Wish Upon a Star, Ghost Marriage, the Halloween events, etc). A very common complaint (at least among English speaking players) is that Yuu isn’t “involved enough” or that they don’t have a big impact on the events of the story. Therefore, most of the boys not feeling close or indebted to Yuu makes sense from their POV. What has Yuu actually and explicitly done to help them? Not much. It’s mainly in individual fan interpretations where Yuu/a Yuusona/an OC in Yuu’s role is actually able to play a more substantial part in each characters’ life and growth. In general, the standard in-game Yuu is more of a "fly on the wall" character that witnesses events unfold rather than someone who plays a large role in each book. The boys are seemingly the main characters, not Yuu. It's just convenient to have Yuu/a blank slate in the story because they, as an outsider, need TWST concepts explained to them (thus making it easier to give exposition to the players who may also be unfamiliar with the information). The first years, by comparison, are closer to Yuu simply because 1) Yuu is implied to be in the same year level as them (so they're more likely to be exposed to one another) and 2) their preestablished relationships with Grim, Ace, and Deuce opens them up more to first year interactions. "Friends of friends", if you will. It makes more sense than Yuu being appreciated and loved by everyone/most people in the main cast of 22ish. (How many people do you know irl that have 22ish significant friends?) They spend the most time together. Everyone else tends to stick to their own groups (with maybe the exception of Heartslabyul, since Yuu is already close with Adeuce). They’re just... not as intimate with Yuu, and therefore not as inclined to find much appreciation for them.

I want to clarify that this doesn’t mean there are zero instances of the characters outside of the first years expressing gratitude toward Yuu. Like, of the OB boys, it’s only Vil who consistently apologizes for the trouble he caused (note though: it’s not specifically to Yuu, but to everyone in the VDC/SDC squad. Yuu is then given prize money from most of the other boys as thanks for letting them crash at Ramshackle… Of those, only Kalim cites being grateful that he was able to stay and have fun with everyone because of Yuu green lighting the decision. This makes sense, as Kalim’s one of the few who wears his heart on his sleeve and is friendly to most. It just isn’t true for the majority of the cast, and we shouldn’t expect it to be.

As late as book 5, you can see characters like Leona not being so happy to be called out to or for Grim to act all buddy-buddy with him. That indicates to me that the rest of the cast is not that close to Yuu + related parties and doesn't have a real reason to be. (Note: I'm not counting character voice lines here as proof of friendliness with Yuu, as it can be argued that the relationships and events explored in the cards don't run in tandem with the main story and are meant more as fanservice for the players.)

Again, while it's not that fun to read in a narrative, it does leave things open-ended for anyone who wants to self-insert or to expand on those blank relationships for their own characters. I believe this is by design to appeal on an individual level to players. You get out of it what you put into it!

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aurora-starwars · 1 year

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Ooh I just saw a cute little AU prompt I wanna see if it can be used! So it’s the soulmate au where the reader shares eye color in one eye with their soulmate. I’d love it if you could do an angsty fluffy Anakin x reader would mate au with Anakin in his revenge of the sith era? Also, I was wondering if you write for Stargate or know any writer who does on here? There’s not enough Stargate love and it makes me sad 😞. Thanks lovely!

The Look of Terror In Your Eyes

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader; Soulmate au!!!!

Summary: Reader is one of padmé’s handmaidens, and while joining her on Mustafar, she finds a familiar pair of eyes. Eyes that shouldn’t be as red as they are…

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: fire, sobbing, sith, evil anakin, star wars stuff, related violence (not really) Idk, you let me know…

A/n: Thank you so much for waiting and requesting! Took a while to get out but I was feeling the angst after ep 7 of The Last Of Us. 😭😭😭 Also, sorry, I don’t know any writers for stargate! i had to look it up 😭😭, but if anyone has any recommendations, comment them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, sorry for the long break y’all!!! <33333333

P.s: I love the soulmate au trope!!!!! <3

Masterlist

[Name] always loved the idea of a soulmate. The mere thought of a perfect person for her, a soul that perfect for hers sounded marvellous. Two hearts connected by the grace of the universe, or as the Jedi believe, the force. Many people debated the origin of this special connection between organisms; specifically humanoids. Some thought it was their planet’s deity that blessed–and in some cases, cursed– the living beings with companionship, others thought it wasn’t real, that it was all just some trick of a decease or parasite. But most have concluded and agreed that it was the work of the seemingly magic that holds the universe together; the force.

[Name] was a big fan of any theory or story she could hear about soulmates. Free time was spent asking the people around her about their second eye. She always wondered how other’s knew which eye was whose, and she was always met with, “You only know when you meet them, when you lock eyes.” [Name] often liked to imagine what her soulmate looked like. Which eye would be her soulmate’s and which would be her own? What would her soulmate look like with a body around her matching eyes? Would they be brunette? Blond? Would they be a man? Be a woman? What would it look like when they eventually locked eyes? Would their eyes fill with the amount of love [Name] knew that she would feel for them?

Thoughts of her special someone flooded her mind every moment she had time to think. And as much as she loved to think about it, she hardly had time too. [Name] was a busy girl as she was a handmaiden of Padmé and often was travelling, doing one of the other girls make up or switching places with Padmé in order to keep her safe. The senator was the girls main priority and honestly, she was their pride and joy.

This busy job didn’t keep [Name]’s thoughts from wandering at night and like a magnet, her mind would gravitate to her soulmate. She only began to think more about it after a trip to Naboo, where [Name] learned of two of Padmé’s previous handmaidens who were soulmates and had met each other through the former Queen’s protection program. While a wonderful story, [Name] couldn’t help but think about if she would meet her soulmate on the job, if ever. It was a large universe and more often than not, soulmates die before they are ever able to meet the soul destined for them.

Days in the senate were quiet and beyond mundane. And while every once and a while Padmé and her causes would get a win, those times were few and far in-between. Majority of days were spent in the rooms that were provided for the senators, pouring over documents and finding information on how to fix the wrongs of the galaxy, diplomatically.

But these issues are never resolved overnight, and after years of tireless hours of dedicated work within the senate, [Name] found herself less and less hopeful of the wonderful life she pictured outside of the senate. She dreamed of a life with her soulmate, back on Naboo, where she could be with her family and friends. Somewhere nice, somewhere where she could live out the rest of her life out in peace surrounded by everything she has ever loved.

Those dreams always seemed silly once she was sat in the senate, watching over Padmé time and time again, no hope that this life would cease. That the war would end and they could go back home once they finally had did all they could in repairing the senate. That [Name] could finally live out her happily ever after with the one she dreams of, but knows nothing of. Nothing but what one of their eye’s looks like.

Although soulmates could come as romantic or platonic, [Name] never cared. [Name] would be happy to not be lonely. To have someone by her side for the rest of her life. That was all [Name] dreamed of. Not being alone.

That was why she took the job after all. Of course, when the former Queen calls, it is hard to decline the honour of protecting the one and only Padmé Amidala. But that deal becomes a whole lot sweeter when there is a promise of a group of girls accompanying you. A promise that you will not be alone. That was very incising for [Name].

And while most of the senate meetings were snore inducing and late nights reading and rereading documents was beyond tedious, it was made incredibly better by the girls who had also agreed to lay their lives of the line for Padmé. They had become a sisterhood of sorts, a unbreakable friendship formed between them and there was an unspoken understanding that while they worked with Padmé, they were in for anything. That meant life or death, they stood together in order for Padmé to prosper.

That security meant everything to [Name]. In fact, that was everything to [Name]. Since she joined Padmé on her trip to Coruscant all of those years ago, [Name] has practically forgotten who she used to be, and was convinced that a part of her lied in this job. And that part would be ripped from her if she ever left the job, and she would be left alone.

Her dreams of meeting her soulmate never died though. In fact, that is what got her through every day. Every day that she spent with the people she loved so much, every day she dreaded them being taken from her. Thoughts and dreams of a perfect world, with her perfect person. No war, no slavery, no crime, just two souls meeting and living out the rest of their lives, just one day at a time.

But as she stood in front of the mirror of the fresher, all of those thoughts flew out the window. Traveling with Padmé as her escort, [Name] ended up on a J-type Naboo star skiff headed towards Mustafar. [Name] didn’t know why they were going to Mustafar or what would be waiting for them on the old mining planet, but she did know that she wasn’t ready.

It didn’t matter what met them on Mustafar, because all that really mattered to [Name] in the moment, was her reflection. Or more specifically, her right eye that had turned a gnarly, fresh blood red, with irises the colour of acid.

It only took a matter of moments before [Name] found tears running down her face. She pulled at the skin of her cheeks, moving in closer to look if what she had seen was right before closing her eyes. It was a vicious loop; pull, look, cover. She wasn’t sure how long this went on for, finding herself heaving on the floor what felt like a century later. What was she going to do?

She had heard of Sith eyes. Many had, especially if one had spent any time on Coruscant. The tales of Jedi going to the dark side were relatively popular in the upper-levels of Coruscant. The nasty evil that had become a cataclysmic emergency in galaxy had ruthlessly killed millions with no regard for life. That was of course until the Jedi Order vanquished them. The nasty plague that was the Sith had been thought to have been defeated, extinct, as of many, many years ago. But yet, her [Name] was, with her right eye as bright as the sun, glowing so bright, it was as if it was haunting her.

What does this mean?

Am I going to die?

Am I Sith?

Will I hurt innocent people?

Am I evil?

Thoughts infiltrated her mind without mercy and terror tore through her brain like a violent hurricane. Her mind was spinning.

Millions of lives have been lost at the hands of the Sith. Millions of innocent caught in the reign of terror the Sith brought where ever they went. How could [Name] be like them?

Then it hit her like a freighter.

Her soulmate.

Her soulmate, the one she had dreamed and fantasized about her whole life, a Sith. Pure evil, working for causes that only bring harm to the universe. Lying on the floor, [Name]’s sobs wracked through her body, the only rest she got is when she started to violently leave heave before more tears and loud sobs found their way from her lungs.

It made sense though, she was never a Jedi, never force sensitive. So why would her pair of eyes be the distinct aggressive colour of the force sensitive Sith?

The Sith wasn’t her, so that only left her soulmate. Her wonderful, beautiful soulmate of which she has never met. And as she curls deeper into herself, [Name] questions whether she would actually meet them.

And whether or not she wants too.

Just as [Name]’s sobs and shook started to subside, [Name] felt the familiar jolt of the ship landing. A cool chill shot up her back as she made her way to her feet. Looking into the mirror once more, she found that both the eyes were back to how she remembered them to be. What they had always been her entire life. Wiping her eyes, [Name] tried to clear all evidence of her tears and break down.

[Name] closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. The sound of the ships engine shutting off reminded her of where she was. Right, Mustafar; the place where Padmé was rushing to in order to help a friend. Letting out a breath, she made a promise to herself to help Padmé out with whatever.

[Name] stood next right next to Padmé as the hatch lowered and the red hazed glow of the lava coated planet overwhelmed her vision. As she was momentary blinded, Padmé ran down the ramp towards a cloaked figure. From the distance, [Name] couldn’t hear much but she could make out a faint conversation as she slowly approached.

“I saw your ship, what are you doing out here?” The brunette man spoke as he leaned into the hug Padmé was giving him, before pulling away and holding on to the sides of her arms.

“I was worried about you, Obi-wan told me terrible things,” Padmé looked up at him, and from her tone of voice, something [Name] knew very well, it was evident that Padmé was very upset.

“What things?” He questioned, not harshly, but certainly not in a tone of voice one should use with a senator.

“He said that you’ve turned to the dark side. That you…” Padmé began, before pausing, struggling to find the strength within her to whisper the words.

“Killed younglings,” She muttered in horror. Terror was set in her eyes, but there was not quiver of disbelief in her tone, no indicator to [Name] that this man wouldn’t do such a thing.

“Obi-wan is trying to turn you against me,” The man spoke after a moment, his voice deep with the familiar feel of unnerve that Padmé and her handmaidens have become so used to in the senate.

“He cares about you, Anakin,” Padmé argued, although it didn’t sound like an argument, more like a plea. “He wants to help you.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrowed, “Nothing can save me, only my new powers can do that.”

Padmé took a step back and [Name] took two steps forward.

“At what cost?” Padmé looked into his eyes once again, and as [Name] could see, she was begging. “You’re a good person. Don’t do this.”

“I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of,” Anakin's gaze was intense, his eyes narrowed on Padmé as if at any point she would stab him and run away.

“I am more powerful than the chancellor. I-I can over throw him,” Anakin began taking steps forward and quickly Padmé started taking steps back.

“And together you and I can rule the galaxy, make things the way we want them to be,” Anakin stops moving, watching Padmé eagerly in hopes that she will agree.

Taking another step back, Padmé shakes her head, “I don’t believe what I am hearing. Obi-wan was right. You’ve changed.”

Anakin scuffs, shaking his head before raising his finger, “I don’t wanna hear any more about Obi-wan. The Jedi turned against me, don’t you turn against me,” That sounded like a command.

“I don’t know you anymore. Anakin, you’re my best friend, you are like my brother,” Padmé plead, her voice broken and littered with heartbreak. It might not have sounded like it, but those few words meant everything to Padmé. Those words were like a code that only one of her handmaidens could crack. That [Name] could crack.

The words whispered of betrayal, of heart break and of a familiar love that she cannot part with. She truly loved Anakin, the sister in her seemed to shine through as she spoke with the man.

“You’re going down a path I can’t follow.”

“Because of Obi-wan?”

“Because of what you’ve done,” Padmé sobbed, her voice raising as she neared her breaking point. [Name] finally made her way behind Padmé as she spoke again, “Because of what you plan to do.”

And as [Name] laid her hand on Padmé’s shoulders, bring her back slightly, Anakin’s eyes were back on the ship. [Name] rubbed Padmé’s arms gently in attempts to comfort the distressed girl and as she did so, it was almost as if she could feel the rage from the man behind her. [Name] tried to pay no mind, busying herself with the sobbing girl before her. Padmé’s head raised, looking up from the spot she marked on the ground, and gasped as she made eye contact with you.

“Liar!” Anakin yelled, bring the attention back to him. And when [Name] eyes drifted over to the simmering man, she found herself looking into a very familiar set of eyes.

Her eyes.

The same pair of eyes that stare back at her in her reflection every day, mirrored.

A gasp left [Name]’s throat, bringing his attention to her. As his gaze connected with hers, his eyes faded from one red, and one of [Name]’s to just infectious red. A wave of comfort went through [Name]’s body as she stared into the eyes that she has been dying to meet.

But instead of relief, or joy, [Name] only felt gutted. The harsh heat from the surrounding lava did nothing to sooth the soaring stinging in her eyes as she watches the man before her look behind her again. She hardly even notices when another man, a Jedi, passes her. As angry words were exchanged and she found herself losing focus, standing by the side as she watches the Jedi and the Sith duel to the death.

Her world just flipped its axis, leaving her body to adjust. Emotionally, physically. The biological reaction to meeting one’s soulmate was to release serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin, all chemicals in one’s brain responsible for happiness. But in this moment, those hormones were only adding to the increasing feeling of emptiness growing in her heart.

She had just watched her supposed soulmate turn to the dark side before her eyes. Choosing to assist the death of others rather than assist the quality of living for others. Everything [Name] and Naboo has ever help to fix in the senate could be destroyed in a snap of her own soulmate’s fingers.

How was she going to live her life know what she was tied to? Would he come back to the light? Would he die? Would she?

Or would she give up everything she has ever known for the chance of a life partner? Someone who will never leave her.

[Name] drops to her knees, a suppressed sob managed its way to the surface, bringing sharp tears from her eyes.

The famous Anakin Skywalker, former Jedi knight, [Name]’s soulmate, leaving tears in her eyes. And as she watches the blurry two duel, she finds that not only is there tears in her eyes, but also terror.

A/n: I got a little carried away with this, and it might have gotten a little off topic, but I hoped you liked it. I haven’t edited it yet, but I will get to it! Thank you so much for reading and waiting!!! <333333 Let me know what you think! Love y’all to the stars!

Master-list

Taglist: @luvlykrispy

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revletter · 4 months

Note

How does Geno sleep?

GASP. An inbox ask about something I already can't shut up about? AND an excuse to glow-up some more old art?! 🤩

In my headcanon:

Badassery notwithstanding, Geno often just sleeps like a sweet little doll. It feels natural and comfortable - after all, long before he ever borrowed it, it spent almost every night sitting like this.

Also, lying down felt a bit too vulnerable for a while. Especially at the beginning of his adventure. In fact, he got a TERRIBLE first impression of anything resembling unconsciousness - so terrible that for his entire first week on the planet, he didn't sleep at all.

And then he discovered sleep is actually… lovely.

Here's a little bullet point story about that! 😊 [oops, it actually got pretty long, haha... hope you enjoy it!]

Geno Versus Sleep

During that first big fight, Bowyer sent a wall of electricity crashing toward ♡♪!? and the two people who had shown up out of the blue to fight by his side. Before it even hit, he knew it would be too much. He heard Mario's shout, Bowyer's mocking laugh, then dimly felt the impact of his borrowed form against the ground.

The next instant, he found himself alone in a blank, dark, starless void. This was new. And… not good. ♡♪!?'s mind was still very much aware, but he couldn't see, hear, feel, perceive anything. All he knew was that he was still in the doll's body.

Then a harrowing realization dawned on him. With almost all of his magic tethered to a body that wasn't working, he didn't have enough left to escape it…

[Continued under the cut]

Seconds later, there came a feeling almost as jarring: a sudden, wild, violent propulsion back into his senses. The first sense to return was a gaggingly sour taste. Then the unmistakable pain of his injuries knitting back together. Then a voice saying "Good morning! You okay?" - then the blurry sight of Mallow's face. Geno was just as disoriented as he had been when he'd first commandeered the doll.

He quickly learned this feeling was a Pick-Me-Up.

Cool.

He inwardly decided to avoid all of that mess involved in being less than conscious - at least when he had a choice in it.

His first full night on the planet, he kept watch all night long. And the second, and the third. Mario and Mallow became increasingly concerned, which Geno only found endearing. Patiently, repeatedly, he put them at ease about his lack of need for sleep.

(He did not mention any other reasons he might be avoiding it. These people had saved him and his mission; no way was he going to get picky about their methods. Besides, even the child could clearly handle these things without complaint. He resolved to do the same.)

He did, however, often feel a specific exhaustion: being low on magic left him dim inside, almost too depleted to maintain his hard-won motor control over his feet and fingers. On any normal day, the Star Road would restore him directly and abundantly, but now he felt this exhaustion more than he ever had. And it was work and expense to use physical consumables to keep himself going.

When he mentioned this inner conflict in passing - masked as appreciation for how much they spent on him - he was quite surprised to learn that for Mario and Mallow, sleep restored their magic. Intriguing.

Resolving to try and save his friends some resources, he finally decided to give sleep a shot on purpose.

Mario and Mallow were both amused to see Geno flop to the floor between their beds like a toy. After several days of watching the serious, otherworldly warrior wreck things ten times his size on the battlefield, it was easy to forget that part - but his limp doll slump against the wall was a clear reminder that his form was still every bit the silly oversized plaything.

"You sure you don't want to lie down?" asked Mallow.

"It's alright. I don't think it makes a difference to this body," said Geno. "Besides… if something happens, I can be on my feet faster."

In his own bed, Mario rolled onto his side toward him and offered a reassuring smile. "If anything happens, we're right here. We'll be in it together."

They turned out the lamp, and Geno tried to relax. He could do this. Piece of cake. He'd been here a week; he'd been able to tolerate feeling trapped in an unconscious body several times. If he had to face that for several hours in one go… well, he'd experienced worse things.

Hadn't he?

What? Yes, of course he had. Stars, what a silly thought. People down here did this every night. Surely he was blowing this way out of proportion. Surely it couldn't possibly be such a -

Geno felt something fluffy brush against him. It was Mallow's hand, wrapping around his. "S'gonna be okay," the kid said, sounding already half in a dream.

Of course. Mallow seemed to have a sixth sense for these things. Geno chuckled softly into the dark, feeling equal parts sheepish and glad for a friend like this. "That's what I'm here to make sure of, my little friend," he redirected anyway, but Mallow was already asleep.

On his other side, he heard his other friend shift. Mario looked quite awake, the shine of his eyes just visible in the starlight through the window. Mario didn't always pick up on Mallow's reactions and what they meant. Had he this time?

Confirming his suspicions, Mario quietly slipped out of his bed and sat next to Geno on the floor.

"Let me guess," Mario whispered conspiratorially, "where you're from, there's always someone alert and guarding, yeah?"

"Yeah," Geno whispered back. "It's what I do."

"Well, who does it for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Up there, who guards you when you need it?"

Geno was quiet. Mario clearly didn't know his real source of trepidation, but… he'd never specifically considered this question. His unspoken answer was, of course, 'Still me.'

Mario seemed to take his silence as an answer. "Hey, you know what? I'll sit watch tonight."

Geno blinked. "Mario, you really don't have to do that."

"I'm gonna."

"But... you need nightly sleep."

Mario leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Wanna know how little rest I got when it was just'a me and Mallow? And how much I've gotten for the past week with another actual adult around? It's like having my brother here, but you actually stay awake all night, like - I dunno, almost like you're some kinda star watching over us or something."

Mario's eyes were glistening with humor in the dark. Geno couldn't help a soft chuckle in return, and stopped trying to dissuade his determined friend from his new side mission.

"I can handle one all-nighter. Get some rest… stella dalla testa dura," Mario added under his breath as he got up, a good-natured tease he probably didn't realize Geno understood just fine.

Nice projection there, hard-headed human, Geno thought with affection as his friend sat in the same chair he would have chosen himself, the one next to the window and in full view of the door. He knew it was far from the first time Mario had done any of this… including the unnecessary and probably futile gesture of support at his own expense.

But he was surprised at how much it helped.

Before he even asked it to again, Geno felt his body relax. His eyes drifted closed; his head and shoulders drooped more deeply. The ever-present restlessness in his feet and fingers departed as he realized that, for tonight, he could at least withdraw from the most complicated joints and actually give himself a bit of a break.

Through the wood of his eyelids and chest, ♡♪!? could still see a dreamy, unfocused version of the room. He still had all of his senses. He could still feel Mallow's fluffy hand. The little guy had pulled Geno's entire forearm close to him in his sleep, as if his arm were a doll itself.

Some time later, he heard Mario softly snoring. Geno noticed that he was slumped backward in his chair, his neck at an angle even he recognized as uncomfortable. He sorted himself back into his body. As he got up, Mallow made a little sound and clutched his arm more tightly; Geno carefully detached it at the elbow.

By this point he knew that, if woken, Mario would only be embarrassed and more doggedly committed to staying awake. So instead, he tucked a pillow behind his friend's head, and covered him with his bed's left-behind blanket. Then he quietly sank to the floor next to Mallow again, plugging his arm back into his socket so the little guy wouldn't get a scare when he next awoke.

He relaxed his head and limbs again, letting the sounds of his sleeping companions soothe him, until… finally… he felt it. The magic of this world, barely perceptible. It was always there in the living things, the trees and flowers and mushrooms and people, so strong in his friends, and now it was slowly suffusing every part of him that he'd allowed to relax.

He knew that at its deepest root it was the same old, deep source of magic as that of the stars. But down here it was slower, gentler; less of a fiery focused precision, more of a flowing peace just out of sight.

Feeling at ease at last, he surrendered control, for the first time head to toe, purposefully, completely. The gentle flow of magic coursed like water through his cooling chest… pleasantly ran through the starlight fringe of his spirit like a caring hand through hair.

What a gift of an experience sleep is... he thought contentedly. Yes, I think I'll be able to handle this indeed.

Bonus headcanons:

With his action figure joints, Geno can technically lock his knees and sleep standing up like some kind of weird horse. He doesn't, though. That would freak people out.

At some point in their adventure, Geno somehow acquires the ability to snore. It sounds like creaking. Because it IS creaking. Geno somehow cannot hear himself do this, and genuinely thinks they're all making a joke he doesn't quite get. Finally, Mario, with his assortment of handyman skills that include carpentry, does the rest of the party a favor and gets some graphite and wax into Old Man Geno's joints.

The first time Princess Peach uses star magic (Come Back) to revive Geno, he's absolutely awestruck. He wonders if she has the slightest idea how much sheer potential she has. Here's a big long headcanon of mine about that, with some art!

#minific #geno #geno smrpg #smrpg #super mario rpg #supermariorpg #fanart #fanfic #writing #smrpg fanfic #glowed-up art #my art #mario #mallow #mallow smrpg #my writing

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pearlescentpearl · 1 year

Text

Political Pawn AU

Hello! And welcome to my next bullet point fic; my take on a Fëanor lives plot! To no one’s surprise; Beleriand is on fire.

The Balrog that would have dealt Fëanáro a mortal blow instead takes an arrow to the eye, forcing a crack in the press of fire demons wide enough for Nelyafinwë to reach in and pull him out

Fëanáro is full of fire and wrath still, but his body shakes from pain and blood loss, vision swimming at the edges, hand cramped around his sword. It’s almost like coming out of a creative fugue; tired and hungry and disoriented, and he thinks, reflexively, ah, where’s a fortifying cup of spiced wine when you need it?

But there is only ash, and pain, and his faithful sons carrying him away from what he feels, from what he knows, would have been the death of him

His wounds are many but he will live; his will is too strong

Barely has he been tended to, and settled in his tent, when the message comes; that Morgoth has sent an emissary, claiming parley and teasing about surrendering the Silmarils

It sounds too good to be true, and so it must be a trap

Nonetheless, Nelyafinwë begs leave to go

“Of course, Morgoth is lying,” he says, eyes alight with his own inner flame. “But don’t you see? He will send more than he promises and so a credible force will be moving outside Angamando. Are we to let them roam free, unchallenged? I mean to crush them, and so convey our contempt at this thinly veiled trick!”

This is true enough enough that it persuades Fëanáro to let him go, despite faint misgivings

Later, of course, they learn they should not have. All who went with Nelyafinwë have been slain, the bodies desecrated and arranged in cruel parody. The only one missing from them is Nelyafinwë himself

Fëanáro truly thought he had known anger before, when his father was slain

It is nothing compared to knowing his son may yet live, but who knows in what condition?

Fëanáro has been up to the Gates of Angamando just that very day, and his memory is impeccable. There is no forcing those doors open with what siege supplies they’ve cobbled together so far

So far

Fëanáro will change that

The Mithrim Sindar are welcoming, numbers decimated as they are from Morgoth’s initial flood of his monstrous forces, and the mountains of Hísilómë are rich in metal ores

They can make something great here; it is only a matter of time

Time the Enemy seems keen not to grant them

it seems Fëanáro can dedicate his forces to building, or wiping out the enemy, not both at once. How aggravating

There seems to be a roaming raiding party just close enough to concern them every other day

Eventually, enough is enough; Fëanáro puts Kanafinwë and Turkafinwë in charge of a cavalry force with a significant number of the remaining horses, and commands them to keep Hísilómë clear as far as they can safely roam

They are not his most useful sons for building fortifications anyhow

Under Morifinwë’s baleful and exacting directions, the possible foundations for a great fortress are mapped out; it is misty, and often rainy inside the shelter of these mountains that trap cold and wet wind from the west and north, not especially favorable building conditions when their only source of illumination comes from starlight

How the Mithrim Sindar eke out an existence in such darkness is a wonder that merits studying

Fëanáro glares down at a map; there are few eastern entrances into Hísilómë, the main one is what the locals call Eithel Sirion, the headwaters of a river. If any eastern pass shall be the greatest concern it will be one with a water source

“Does any claim the great grassy plains that encircle Angamando outside the Wethrin?” He asks of Aewendir, the surviving Lord of the MIthrim Sindar

Not that they use the word ‘Lord’ exactly. Lathron, he is called, ‘listener, hearer,’ a pun on both his function; to hear his people out that he may resolve their troubles; and the fact visibility is often terrible by the lake on account of all the mists

“No,” Aewendir says dryly. “And don’t let anyone blow smoke up your ass otherwise. We’re the only folk crazy enough to live so close to the shadow of Angband, and reviled are we for it by the southern king and his court.” He spits on the ground. “And yet it is our word the southerners rely on for news of Angband’s movements when orcs are abroad.”

Fëanáro is growing very fond of Aewendir; he has a steady practicality about him that puts him in mind of Nerdanel, and a bitterly amused yet philosophical way of looking at the world that both intrigues and disconcerts

“We shall build at Eithel Sirion then.”

It’s yet more work to keep roving orc bands at bay, but the fortress must be built if Fëanáro is to have the facilities to devise siege weapons capable of cracking Angamando

The mountains are generous with stone, and the Land of Echoes with wood, but the constant attacks are tedious and slow things down

His Ñoldor are split three ways now; the wandering cavalry under Kanafinwë and Turkafinwë, the builders at Eithel Sirion under Morifinwë, and the rest on the western lake shore with Curufinwë, Telufinwë, and Pityafinwë directing necessary domestic efforts

It’s all a finely oiled machine just barely balanced on a knife’s edge, the slightest upset--!

Fëanáro goes over the numbers again and again, but there’s really no help for it. If only Nelyafinwë had not gone to--

But there is no help for it so they make do. They will get through this if Fëanáro has to will it into truth

One year slips by before he knows it, and a messenger from Angamando is on their doorstep once more

The fact it is a Maia is all that keeps Fëanáro from having it slain on the spot, but that is as far as he can deduce of its identity, its fána so twisted and befouled there’s no telling what it started as

It holds an iron chest in its hands

“One year has the rightful King of Arda held the Crown Prince an esteemed guest in his home,” the being rasps through torn lips and blackened teeth. “But all good guests must leave eventually to stay a good guest. His Majesty offers your son back to you, Finwion, if you but agree to forget your Oath, depart Beleriand, and never return to darken His Majesty’s doorstep. What shall it be, Ñoldorán; your son or your jewels?”

For a shameful moment, Fëanáro’s conviction wavers. Could it truly be that easy--?

But no

Morgoth’s last offer to surrender what he stole was a lie. It was a lie then, and it is a lie now

Fëanáro will not be fooled.

He will drive open the Gates of Angamando and rescue his son himself, and whatever miseries he has suffered will be inflicted on Morgoth fivefold! Tenfold!

“Úmaia you are, and Úvala I name your thrall-keeping master!” Fëanáro scoffs. “Slink back to your hole and tell him to stuff his false offers back behind his teeth where they belong!”

The being laughs, a horrible scraping croak that’s half a wheeze. “Very well, Finwion. A souvenir to tide you over then. A token of His Majesty’s consideration.”

The chest is tipped open and a wealth of loose red hair, vividly bright even in the light of the Fëanorian Lamps, spills out upon the ground like a bloodstain half tossed by the wind

It reeks of blood too

The breath catches in his throat. All that hair, Nelyafinwë’s pride and joy. It didn’t seem real to see it bereft of his son, to see it tossed carelessly on the ground where-- where anyone could trample it

He feels numb

The anger is too strong, there are too many directions he wants to shove it at once

Behind him, Telufinwë lets out a cry and looses an arrow into the Úmaia’s mangled torso

Fëanáro reorients. Draws his sword and shoves it through the being’s throat and cleaves its head clean off. There’s an eruption of fouled power upon its death, but it must be the weakest in Morgoth’s enthrallment for it barely rocks him on his heels

“Pay what it said no mind,” he tells his sons, the lot of them wet eyed and reaching for the hair on the ground. “The Enemy is a liar, dishonorable, and a cheat. Even if we agreed to the deal, Nelyo would only be returned to us dead. The only way to get him back is to wrest him from the pits ourselves!”

Their spirits firm. Good

#political pawn au #silmarillion #bulletpoint fic #feanor #maedhros #buckle up folks the byzantine politics are gonna be off the charts in this one #also have some fun mithrim sindar worldbuilding #they're nearly as neglected as the avari in terms of exploration

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moxfirefly · 1 year

Note

Oohh Bestie you've done it this time!!!

Girl you already know... our trash gremlin man of metal ⚙️ *daddy* ⚙️

"You know I'm your right? I only have eyes for you."

"I choose you, and I need you to trust that my decision is final. Trust me."

[Stake] and [Remind]

Girl. Do your magic!!

Friend you’ve got it 🫡

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

The tavern was a staple of the village. On most nights it would usually be crammed to the brim with the drunken laughter of the locals. On specific nights it was borderline empty due to it only being inhabited by one of the lords.

On this specific night you had sat down with every intention of enjoying just that.

Much to the dismay of a stubborn and foolish man.

Perhaps he’d forgotten his place? Perhaps the calm sounds of cups and bottles from the barkeep had lulled him into the tavern.

Either way, his most fatal mistake was to take the seat opposite you in a weak attempt to strike up a conversation.

“Quite nice when this place isn’t filled with the village drunk, eh?” He thought he was being coy, his smile flashing stained teeth and not so innocent intentions. “I wish it be like this more often than not. What’s such a pretty lady like you doing out this late?” His hand slid across the table, to which you smoothly retreated by placing yours in your lap.

“I believe it’s best for you to leave, sir” Your tone wasn’t malicious but you sure knew this man had about two minutes to live if he didn’t haul ass outta here.

“Leave? Well only if you leave with me, how bout it?” His grin spread across his cheeks.

You heard a door open not too far off behind you. The man turned, lifting two fingers in motion for the barkeep to pour two more drinks.

The second you felt hands on your shoulder and that cigar scent that naturally accompanied who’d just walked in, it took all your resolve not to stifle a laugh.

“Make that three, Elijah” Heisenberg’s voice was liquid smooth, a tone you’d come to enjoy greatly in your time spent with him.

The man before you quickly turned and his gaze was worth more money than you could ever fathom.

Heisenberg’s hands massaged your shoulders, the tingling they provided instantly made you shiver. The man before was caught between wanting to stand up and run or to keep perfectly still.

“My lord-“ He stammered out.

Heisenberg busied himself briefly by cupping your chin, he moved your head to look up. You were met with a handsome face, and a wolffish grin. Naturally he leaned down and whispered something to you that only made your smile spread and your cheeks tint pink.

The barkeep approached and settled the ordered drinks on the table. The man before you didn’t dare lift to grab his own and something about the way his face broke out in a sweat only served to make your grin more noticeable. Behind you Heisenberg had now began to play with your hair, he hummed before lifting a brow. “It’s rude to not drink when a lord has so humbly offered” His status had always meant jack shit to Karl but it never got old watching the villagers cower when he put his position above them. With shaky hands the man scooted close to lift the drink but the sudden notion that perhaps his drink could’ve been tampered with had him now all the more worried.

He stumbled and quickly bowed his head in shame. “My lord please if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I was not aware that she-“ The sharp end of blade hovered in front of him. The shiny tip just close enough to have him cross eyed. All it would take would be a flick of his hand, jut out his chin, a bored movement and it would be the end for him. He held his breath, a whimper dying in the back of his throat. “Listen let me stop you there pal, as much as fucking with your peace of mind has entertained the two of us I can tell you that fucking her is a thousand times more entertaining” You felt leather finger tips on your scalp, a slightly more possessive hold. “I think he has learned his lesson Karl, as well as soiled himself” Your words fell from your lips like a honey, leaning back into his determined hold, you smiled up at him. “Take me home” And with that and a gentle shove of his hand the knife fell on the table.

As you gathered your things and Karl helped into your coat, you didn’t spare the man another glance. His tearful expression wasn’t enough to make him realize just how lucky he had gotten. While he wouldn’t admit it, you knew whatever your said would go with Karl. A simple request as being taken home would not be fought nor questioned.

The walk back had been surprisingly quiet, the cool air perhaps could’ve been reason enough. The icy winds had picked up now as night fell and much to your surprise Karl hadn’t continued his banter.

Something was very much working in his brain, and those pesky thoughts he tended to seal off would now have to be painstakingly cut open if you were you find out what exactly was running amok in his head.

At the factory, as you hung up your coat and scarf you took the second to reach for this own coat before he could. Delicate fingers brushing across the lapels of worn fabric as you slipped it off his shoulders. “You know I’m yours right? I only have eyes for you.” It was honest, scattered across the hairs on the nape of his neck. Whispered so delicately it made his skin breakout and something metallic clang against its surface. Those eyes of his sought you out, cold and calculating and too beautiful for his own good. “Is that so?” His voice felt just a tad soft, questioning the authenticity of your confession. Your lips found a scar on his throat as you moved around to stand before him, your lips tickled by the scruff of his beard as your lips found his ear. “I choose you, and I need you to trust that my decision is final…” You pressed a tender kiss to the lobe, before catching his gaze in an intimate stare. “Trust me.” Was all you needed to write the final period of your confession. There was something tortured that briefly flashed in his features, a haunting ghost that always lingered whenever the eyes of the villagers weren’t on him. You often caught it, felt that ghostly presence in the early morning hours when he would fuse his body to yours and feed the famished parts of his soul that had been neglected for so long.

Your hands cupped his face, thumbs caressing the scar on his lip as you stood on the tips of your toes to kiss him with a tenderness that broke him all over again like the first time it happened.

Naturally this led him to press you against the desk in the garage, and sit you there as he deepened the kiss and felt any ounce of doubt melt away with something so simple as your urgent words for more. Karl felt everything humanly possible surge though him as he hiked up your dress and undignified whatever garment in his way. He wanted your warmth on this cold winters evening. He craved nothing more than to swallow you whole and selfishly keep you like the diamonds found in the mines.

It was so achingly simple to slip inside of you, to feel that warmth engulf him and destroy him all at once. To say love was the word wasn’t enough, he needed something much stronger, more defined and new than love to describe how you set his soul ablaze. It was somewhere between the way your small hands untucked his shirt to feel at the scarred flesh of his back that he wanted to tell you he would keep you here forever. Because how could something so beautiful as you, equally ache and fight for him?

Your hand found his throat as he gently rocked against you, stretching you so deliciously it could make your head loll in dizzying pleasure. You gripped his throat, made his eyes open and land on your own.

‘I’m yours’ you mouthed at him, lips parted as a moan escaped you. You watched what those words did to him, made him sink deeper and harder into your heat and fuck you so slow and yet with so much meaning. His forehead pressed against your own, a groan so broken and needy exiting him.

His hands tighten around your thighs, as he watches obsessively with how you lose yourself around his cock. It guts him, it makes the slow rocking against you all the more meaningful as he watches your hands find his pecs and dig into the flesh as the first wave of release consumes you. He fucking loves how your eyes can’t stay open enough with how atrociously satisfying this is to you, because it’s in the way your thighs shake and cramp and your mouth hangs open in deliverance. Karl has to watch it even as the vice grip around his cock makes him light headed from the way it yanks his release as well. Make him push his sweaty forehead against your own and rub like a starved animal for affection.

He can’t keep his eyes open when he says it, runs the words against your lips like a ghostly lover would.

“I’m yours too…”

And when your hands find his chest and dig into the skin of his pecs, eyes unable to remain open because he’s making you cum so hard its earth shattering to witness it. Karl feels the vice like grip yank his own release out of him, makes him feel hazy and so atrociously satisfied.

“I’m going to stop you right there pal, mostly because at this rate fucking with your peace of mind doesn’t hold a candle to fucking this delightful

#ask #jealousy prompts #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #imthegreenfairy88 #ns*w #re8 #re village

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sebastianwallows · 1 year

Text

Locked In

Sebastian Sallow x m!reader

Summary - Request for “Hey! I love your fics they're so enjoyable to read, I was wondering if you could write something where reader and Sebastian get trapped inside an all anti magic room and now their only option is to wait for help but hours go by, it getting cold and they begin to need eachother 😶"

Word Count - 2,144

Warnings - 18+ light smut

A/N - I opted to do this one as m!reader because why not and it wasn't specified. I hope it came out satisfactory enough

In an effort to keep Sebastian at bay and out of any more major trouble, you had convinced him to keep his escapades inside of Hogwarts. He often used Anne as a reason why he was up to no good. You knew that was partially true. The other part of him just couldn't sit still and be satiated attending classes like normal. After a charms class where you learned Ascendio, he could barely sit still until you had a free period. It wasn't exactly a secret that the castle had hidden rooms and paths all over the place, you just had to look. There was a statue in the courtyard that was so isolated Sebastian figured it had to have some purpose. He had cast loads of spells at it, including reparo once or twice, trying to uncover whatever it hid.

"This has got to be it! It's had a feather carved on the bottom this whole time," he spoke to you in excitedly.

It was afternoon when you had the time to go explore and you could barely keep up with him on the walk there. He just barely looked around to ensure you were alone before he cast the spell.

"Ascendio!"

The light from his wand struck the image of a feather and it popped off and flew straight up into the air. It seemed this had caused the weight of the statue to shift and it swung to the side revealing an opening in the ground.

Sebastian threw his fists in the air in triumph before making his way over, kneeling down to peer into the hole.

"There's a ladder here and I can make out a hallway, it looks lit up with torches," he brought his head up to look at you, hair flopping back into place, " what are you waiting for?"

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment before a laugh escaped your mouth.

"Sebastian you want me to crawl into this dark hole in the ground? It seems a bit dungeon-y. You don't think we should prepare first?"

He shrugged, fully preparing himself to get on the ladder and start heading down whether you followed him or not.

"It's Hogwarts, there can't be anything worse down here than we've fought before."

You let out a groan, resolved to following him because you knew he wouldn't listen. He had been trying for days to find out what the statue was hiding.

You started down the ladder behind him, feet thudding onto the stone floor below when you reached the bottom. Looking up you could see that it was much further below ground that you had anticipated.

You turned to see Sebastian, wand at the ready and anxious to start poking around.

"Come on, Y/N."

He grabbed your hand and started down the hallway, examining every brick in the walls to make sure he didn't miss a thing.

"I hope these leads us somewhere more interesting than that time all we found was a pair of goggles. Honestly sometimes it's like the wizards who built these things are just playing tricks on us."

You smiled as he pulled you along, threading your fingers through his for a more comfortable grip. You attempted to be cautious, but really all you were in was a narrow tunnel that didn't seem too intimidating.

As you both took in the scene you finally made your way to the end of the hall where an old, ricket door was just hanging open.

"Alright, Sebastian. Go tell me what your treasure is."

His face dropped as you halted your steps, not keen on entering the dark room.

"Come on, I'll just be twice as disappointed if I open some rubbish chest without you. Are you scared?" he teased you.

You dropped his hand, crossing your arms.

"It looks creepy. This hallway was lit well enough, but I do not just wander into dark rooms."

He looked at you with a pout on his face, "I guess we're not going anywhere then until you're willing to come with me."

"You are 18 years old, Sebastian."

"So are you, and you're afraid of the dark?!"

He reached out to you, tugging on your robes until you reluctantly stumbled past the door with him. The door swung closed behind you as you both tried and failed to cast lumos.

You both jumped in surprise and the second you went to pull on the handle it just fell off in your hands. You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, trying to not think about how much you wanted to kill Sebastian. You could hear him frantically trying to cast a spell, but no light ever appeared.

"Y/N..." his voice was quiet and feeble as he realized the mistake he had made.

"Sebastian. The door is locked."

You slowly turned around to face him, only the broad outline of his figure visible in the dark.

"You just got us —"

"How was I supposed to know!"

You yelled over top of each other before both going silent. You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a laugh you couldn't hold.

"I'm not sure why I expected this to go any differently. This is just what happens when I'm around you."

He gave you a sheepish smile, "But it's fun and keeps you on your toes right? Never boring?"

You both burst out laughing and resigned to your fate of not getting out of that door and being stuck in the dark. You started to take in what was around you, but it was clear there was no obvious exit.

The room was small and smelled of dust. It seemed like someone's private study with some books lining the shelves, a desk, and a small sofa. Unfortunately, there wasn't even a whole lot to explore to occupy yourselves. Opening up the books did you no good since you couldn't see.

You sighed and took a seat on the old sofa. Your eyes had now adjusted somewhat to the mostly dark room, you tried a few innocuous spells to see if anything would work, but they all failed.

"Well, I think we may have to rethink this and wait for everyone to notice we've gone missing together. At least Ominis should notice that it's strange for us both not to be in class."

Sebastian sat next to you, dejected.

"I'm sorry. I — I guess that I should have let you stay outside the room. Then at least you could've sent for some help."

"Are you scared in here? You can sit closer to me. It's understandable if you don't like the dark."

You felt him scoot closer to you and you sighed. After having fought trolls and huge spiders, you didn't like admitting you were a grown man afraid of the dark.

You moved close enough to where your thighs pressed against on another and you leaned onto his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and gently rubbed across your arm.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think there are any monsters in here."

"Monsters? Sebastian, you're literally touching me."

He shoved you lightly with his body and you realized how nice it felt to be so close. Your thoughts wandered to places you were certain were not appropriate for the current situation. You shifted in your seat attempting to hide the tugging of your trousers to adjust yourself.

You sat together for a long while and began to lose time, once or twice you had drifted to sleep against Sebastian, curling up against him and clinging to his robes. Every time you woke up you felt embarrassed and attempted to right yourself, but he would just lean into you a squeeze his arms that were around you.

In a lucid moment, you commented about how it felt cold in the room.

"It must be dark by now. I'm upset we've missed dinner more than anything, but you're right," he sighed.

He lifted you from his lap for a moment before bringing his cloak around you to encase you.

"Is this any better?"

You shrugged your shoulders against him, "We've been practically cuddling for hours. You've held me this whole time and it's still cold. While I do enjoy it, it's just not helping much."

Normally you would feel silly to tell him such things, but it was hard to care too much when you were trapped in the dark and he couldn't see you anyhow.

"Besides, you've got to be cold too," you squeezed his side, surprised when he shivered.

You bolted upright and immediately started trying to cover him with your own robe as well.

"Sebastian! You should have mentioned you were cold, I've just been half-asleep this whole time."

He placed a hand over yours to stop you. At this point you could both see fairly well even in the darkness.

"No, it's, er, not that. I'm fine, really. I wore this sweater underneath my shirt today."

Your eyebrows creased together in confusion.

"What? I mean, I know you must be cold too, but if that's not the problem, what is? Are you feeling sick?"

You placed a hand on his forehead, realizing it was futile since your hand was cold and of course he was going to feel warm.

"No," you could almost make out the ghost of a smile on his features, "there's nothing you needed to worry about."

He guided your hand off of his forehead and rested it on his lap. That was when his eyes went wide and he realized his mistake.

"Oh," was what slipped from your mouth as your hand rested on his erection. You felt frozen to the spot, especially since he had guided your hand there.

"No! I didn't mean for you to do anything," he tossed your hand aside, "I, it was an accident, I don't know why I feel this way right now." He rubbed the side of his neck and looked away from you.

In that moment you felt like your opportunity was now or never to act on the things that had plagued your mind for a while now. You threw your leg over his and straddled his lap, planting a wet kiss on his lips.

You pulled away breathless. You wanted to say something, to let him know if he didn't feel the same that he didn't have to do anything, but he didn't allow you the time. His hand was tugging on your hair in seconds, bringing you closer again. When you pressed your hips to his he moaned into your mouth.

"I think this is a good idea to warm up," he said between kisses. You had no protests. You guided a cold hand beneath his shirt, untucking it from his pants to feel his warm abdomen.

"Keep touching me," he whined. You trailed your mouth across his jaw, down to his neck, sucking and pulling at his sensitive skin. You were definitely starting to feel warmer already. He encircled his arms around you to trace his fingers down your back and grip your ass, firmly pulling your own hard-on against him. Incoherent words tumbled from both of your lips while you desperately felt each other up.

You adjusted yourself to work on unfastening his pants when all of a sudden the door behind you thudded open loudly, a warm light entering the room. You jumped apart, rolling off of Sebastian to sit next to him.

You were greeted with Imelda standing in front of you, hands on her hips as Ominis stood behind her.

"Why have you two been hiding in here all day?! To snog?"

Ominis raised his brows at you both, unable to see the red faces and tented pants that Imelda could.

Sebastian stuttered, trying to answer for you both, but clearly at a loss for words.

"I — we were," he cleared his throat to prevent his voice from cracking, "we were. We learned accio and I wanted to come down here to explore."

She shook her head, scolding you like you were her children, "Did you just figure out that's how you get down here? Everyone knows about this place, they just aren't dumb enough to lock themselves in this room. The hallway is usually a fine enough place to hide."

You exchanged helpless glances with Sebastian, realizing now that it looked like you had come down here for one very specific purpose.

"No! That's not why we came down here, we've been down here all day and it was boring and cold and it—"

She put a hand up to stop you before you could incriminate yourself anymore.

"I don't want to hear it. Just get out of here so we can hand over all your missed assignments."

"Sebastian, why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?"

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x m!reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc #hogwarts legacy x mc

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mantizimus · 5 months

Note

Well, since I'm a newcomer to your account and requests are open, how about a Headcanon of the NRC dorm leaders with a Asakura! Reader? It would be interesting to see that.

It took some time, but here.

Takeshi Asakura!S/O

Riddle Rosehearts

Wants to know what on Earth made Crowley think that allowing someone like you to stay in the NRC is good idea.

He oftenly has to pull Ace and Deuce away from you almost by the neck so that you don’t hurt or kill them.

In the early days, you often quarreled because of your tendency to break the rules.

As a result, in some way completely unknown to anyone, you learned to come to a compromise.

Deep down, Riddle has some admiration for your determination.

Although your love for him is not enough to keep you from being cruel, you have become calmer.

Your Kamen Rider form seems quite interesting and unusual to him… although he would still prefer it to be red.

He does not have any clear opinion about Venosnaker.

Leona Kingscholar

Don't even think that he will let you near Farena or Cheka. Especially the last one.

He often finds himself forced to stop you from brutally beating other students.

Respects your determination.

Sometimes you wonder how you two managed to build a relationship in the first place.

When you started dating, he eventually allowed you to be around his relatives, but only in his presence.

If he has free time, he can arrange a training sparring.

Expect questions about your Kamen Rider appearance.

Leona manages to strike up some kind of strange friendship with Venosnaker. Now they often sleep in his room.

Azul Ashengrotto

Tries to keep the Tweels away from you, because he is reasonably afraid that your attempt to do something together could end very badly.

At one point I considered hiring you as a bouncer, but decided against it because of your personality.

Actually, because of your determination, Azul wanted to offer you a job in a restaurant.

Tries to teach you to use somewhat less conflict-resolving ways of resolving disputes. It doesn't always work out.

He rarely participates in sparring with you, due to various reasons, such as reluctance to get his suit dirty and lack of free time.

To be honest, your Kamen Rider form reminds him of knights from various fairy tales… except that they protected the innocent instead of killing them.

Will definitely suggest using Venosnaker to gather information.

Wonders how he will behave in water, but does not dare to experiment.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim's quite tense about your personality and past. Which, however, doesn’t stop him from trying to make friends with you.

Jamil had to pull him away from you more than once or twice.

Considers your determination to be one of your best qualities.

Makes every effort so that you learn to resolve conflicts peacefully, without aggression. It happens rarely, but he doesn’t give up hope.

Doesn't like fighting with you too much, even for training purposes. This reminds him of how he fought with Jamil.

Your Kamen Rider form only reinforces this.

Same with Venosnaker.

By the way, he once jokingly suggested calling him Jamil Jr.

Vil Schoenheit

He also wonders what made Crowley think letting you study at the NRC was a good idea.

He often sends Rook to keep an eye on you so that no one gets hurt.

Although he has to admit, your determination is worthy of respect.

If only you could use it to calmly resolve conflicts.

Vil may offer you a job as a fight choreographer in one of his films, albeit under his supervision.

Another student who doesn't really like to fight with you, this time due to not wanting to get his clothes dirty and/or get physically hurt.

Don't be surprised if he gets the idea to use your armor as an idea for one of his costumes.

He really hopes you don't use Venosnaker to scare him while he's putting on his makeup.

Idia Shroud

Will definitely try to access your world's internet in order to have as much information as possible about your past, as well as potential ways to calm you down.

Uses its technology to track you.

To be honest, Idia is unnerved by your determination.

Anonymously sends you links to online courses on anger management.

Not the biggest fan of sparring, but could train with you.

He will definitely compare your Kamen Rider look to a robot or a superhero costume.

He finds the latter particularly ironic.

He has a completely neutral attitude towards Venosnaker.

Malleus Draconia

At first, Silver and Sebek followed you two almost on your heels.

If this was impossible, they sent one of the students.

Will definitely teach you how to resolve conflicts peacefully, without bloodshed.

He's wondering how your Kamen Rider form works. Is it Magic? Or technology? Or a mixture of both?

Wonders if there is a Kamen Rider based on a dragon.

Don't get him wrong, he likes the snake too, he's just curious.

Malleus compares Venosnaker to his Tamagotchi and helps you take care of him.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #sakurakudo

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sapper-in-the-wire-old · 2 years

Text

METI’S SWORD MANUAL

Argument

1. Glory to the Divine Corpse, o breaker of infinities.

2. I am Meti, of no house but myself. In my 108th year I am surrounded by fools. My compatriots cling obsessively to their destiny, and my only apprentice is an idiot speck of a girl with more talent for eating than skill with the blade. Therefore I have decided to die drowning in the boiling gore of my enemies, of which there are many.

3. My master was the greatest lord general to the king Au Vam, Ryo-ten-Ryam, who first coaxed me into learning the ways of turning men into ghosts. As his interest quickly turned to the wholly uninteresting and most useless parts of my body, I returned the favor and relieved him of his.

4. It is my personal opinion the straight sword is best if you can obtain one, but I also favor the sabre. The spear, stave, or club are peasant's weapons of which I am wholly unfamiliar and so will not speak on them.

5. Upon meeting me, you might find that my appearance is quite dreadful and unkempt. I have been spat upon by priest, king, and merchant alike. I have no retainers, and possess nothing except a straight sword six hand spans (five and a half kret) long (this is the proper length). This is because I am Royalty and the undisputed master of the principal art of Cutting. I will fight naked with ten-thousand men.

6. From the age of thirteen I practiced every day with the straight sword. I followed a strict vegetarian regimen, and harsh training of barefoot sprints (five) between cities, squats and breathing exercises (two bells), and sword drills and resistance training (three bells).

7. By the age of sixteen, my body was a steel edifice. I was so often mistaken for a man I began to wear my hair long with no pins and unbind my breasts. I could break stone with my hands with no effort, I could sprint between the Yellow City and the Lunar dominions in a day or less and barely strain my breath. My mastery of the sword complete, I enlisted in the Middle Army's third legion, where I was widely respected as a swordswoman of incredible power.

8. When it came time to face my first real opponent, the Colossus of Pardos, in my youthful pride and immense skill, I brought all my training and mastery to bear. Scarcely half a day passed before my sword was shattered into thirty pieces, my right leg was almost torn from its socket, and my honed body was broken pathetically in a hundred and forty places. I defeated him by gouging his brains out through his breathing valves. My thumbs, in this case, proved far more useful.

9. At that moment, with my thumbs in his brains, I had a revelation. I had trained far too broadly. Existence and the act of combat are absolutely no different, and the essence of both, the purity of both, is a singular action, which is Cutting Down Your Opponent. You must resolve to train this action. You must become this action. Truly, there is very little else that will serve you as well in this entire cursed world.

10. I hope that by reading this manual, you will be thoroughly encouraged to become a farmer.

Mastering the Sword

1. YISUN's glory is great, and you may know this by two paths, the sanctioned words, and the sanctioned action.

2. The sanctioned words are YS ATN VARAMA PRESH. The meaning of these words is YISUN and their attainment is Royalty.

3. The sanctioned action is to Cut.

4. To Cut means division by the blade of Want, that parer of potentials that excises infinities.

5. To train with the sword, first master sweeping. When you have mastered sweeping, you must master the way of drawing water. Once you have learned how to draw water, you must split wood. Once you have split wood, you must learn the arts of finding the fine herbs in the forest, the arts of writing, the arts of paper making, and poetry writing. You must become familiar with the awl and the pen in equal measure. When you have mastered all these things you must master building a house. Once your house is built, you have no further need for a sword, since it is an ugly piece of metal and its adherents idiots.

The 18 Precepts

1. Consider: there is no such thing as a sword.

2. Your stance must be wide. You must not be spare with the fluidity of your wrists or shoulders. You must have grip on the handle that is loose and unstrained. I heard it said you must be tender with your sword grip, as though with a lover. This is patently false. A sword is not your lover. It is a hideous tool for separating men from their vital fluids.

3. Going onwards, you must adjust hands as needed, do not keep the blade close to your body, keep your breathing steady. This is the life cut. You must watch your footwork. Your feet must be controlled whether planted on fire, air, water, or earth in equal measure.

4. Breathing is very important! Is the violent breath of life in you not hot? Exhale! Exult!

5. You must strive for attachment-non-attachment when cutting. Your cut must be sticky and resolute. A weak, listless cut is a despicable thing. But you must also not cling to your action, or its result. Clinging is the great error of men. A man who strikes without thought of his action can cut God.

6. To cut properly, you must continually self-annihilate when cutting. Your hand must become a hand that is cutting, your body a body that is cutting, your mind, a mind that is cutting. You must instantaneously destroy your fake pre-present self. It is a useless hanger on.

7. A brain is useful only up until the point when you are faced with your enemy. Then it is useless. The only truly useful thing in this cursed world is will. You must suffuse your worthless body with its terrible heat. You must be so hot that even if your enemy should strike your head off, you shall continue to decapitate ten more men. Your boiling blood must spring forth from your neck and mutilate the survivors!

8. You must never make 'multiple' cuts. Each must be singular in its beauty, no matter how many precede it. You must make your enemies weep with admiration, and likewise should your head be shorn off by such an object of beauty, you must do your best to shed tears of respect.

9. When decapitating an enemy, it is severe impoliteness to use more than one blow.

10. A man who finds pleasure in the result of cutting is the most hateful, crawling creature there is. A man who finds pleasure in the act of cutting is an artisan.

11. Man always strives to cut man. Therefore he who draws his sword the fastest is the survivor. To pre-empt this, you must live, eat, and shit as a person who has their sword drawn. It doesn't matter whether your blade, in actuality, is always out of its sheathe, though you will look like an idiot if it is.

12. Consider: The undefeated swordsman must be exceptionally poor.

13. The weak swordsman reserves his sword strokes. He clings excessively to his blade. His footwork is unsteady. His grip is too hard and he is afraid to crack the earth with his step. He has a shallow and wandering gaze, his tongue is sluggish and pale. He refuses to exhale the hot breath of the Flame Immortal.

14. The weak swordsman clings to victory. He thinks of his life, his obligations, the outcome of the battle, his hatred for his opponent, his training, his pride in his mastery. By doing so, he is an imperfect vessel for the terrible fires of Will. He will surely crack. He will not laugh uproariously if he is cleft in two by his opponent’s blade. When his sword is shattered, his hands will be too reserved to tear his enemies’ flesh.

15. The weak swordsman strikes his enemy down and thinks his task done. He relishes in victory. He casts away his sword and returns to his lover. Little does he know his single cut will encircle the world five times and strike him down fifty-fold.

16. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.

17. In manners of terrain, you must learn to cut yourself from it. You must cut even your footprints from it, if need be. Have complete awareness of each crawling thing and each precious flower, each blade of sweet grass and each clod of bitter earth, each beating heart and each being that thrums with love, hope, and admiration. Only then are you qualified to be their annihilator.

18. Excess heat and excess coldness are undesirable. Learn to read the weather.

Closing

1. It is said the greatest warrior-kings may sublime violence and forget all they learn about the sword. This is true. But the only true path to kingship lies through regicide.

2. Moreover, only the worst kind of idiot strives to be king.

3. My extreme hope is that some measure of wisdom will penetrate the thick skull of my apprentice. If not, may reading this manual demonstrate your powerful disinterest in it, and may its true value die with me.

4. Reach heaven by violence.

#k6bd #kill six billion demons

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sweetcloverheart · 10 months

Text

Clover Rants Miraculously: No Victory For The Simple Soul

(Full disclosure - this is a vent post more than analysis so don’t expect anything deep)

I feel the S5 finale highlights the biggest and most glaring issue that this and the last three seasons have had - Marinette (and by extension Adrien and the rest) not being allowed meaningful victories.

The entire point of a finale battle (specifically one that has your main villain giving his Swan Song) is that the character gains something at the end of it. Even if the battle ends with the loss of a friend or the MC no longer having access to their extra helpful powerup/superform, it’s not supposed to be a complete defeat - they’re supposed to learn something and resolve themselves to do better, or gain a new insight into the villain and go investigate their new lead, or promise to never allow another loss like what they faced again.

Miraculous doesn’t have that in their finale battles. All of them always end with Mari and co taking the bigger loss compared to Gabemoth, and it’s never in a way that’s used to either foster character growth or drive towards a meaningful story development. In fact, the loss only seems to happen because the writers need them to lose so Gabe looks like a bigger threat than he is, and then do nothing with it. They do it all the time -

Miracle Queen - Fu’s removal causes Mari considerable stress over having to do Guardian work solo now and needed to reach out to the temps more often as she unconsciously pushes Chat away. Aside from Alya and the Anti-Akuma charms (which are then rendered worthless by the introduction of Mega-Akuma), Mari gets nothing out of his departure except having to accept she can’t date while being a superhero (unless it’s Adrien, and even that still has issues the show won’t address) and constantly having to babysit the Kwami. She doesn’t even get help in the form of backup mentor!Su Han.There’s nothing positive gained out of having to deal with no longer having a mentor to guide her, and eventually, the loss of him is forgotten all together.

Risk/Strikeback - Marinette losing all the Kwami after getting tricked by Felix gets her a mental breakdown, a broken heart after trying to pursue Chat, and even more stress as she basically has the lives and freedom of three characters shoved into her hands with no one able to help her. She doesn’t gain a new power or new ally like last time either, which just serves to further put her against the wall. Hell, her eventual “life saving powerup” doesn’t even come from being directly cornered by the main villain, but from being faced by the spoiled brat bully he’s manipulating and deciding “Actually we aren’t detransforming anymore”. Meanwhile, the peak of her “character arc” for her civilian life is highly reliant on a newly introduced character that wasn’t even built up to and a recton episode that just serves to put every questionable act the writers had her engage in in a bad light just so they can foist responsibility of whatever flaws the fans complained about onto another character (as opposed to just going “yeah, but I got better” and moving on). She lost so much, but got very little out of it in the end.

Even when taking down her minor antags, Marinette gets nothing out of the deal - “Revolution” had her finally get the chance shut down Chloe for good and show she had no power over her, but by that point Chloe had become kind of pathetic in terms of villainy (not to mention her being the pawn of a bigger scheme that allowed the real masterminds to flee judgement) and Mari’s been dunking on her since episode 1 anyways, so it really wasn’t all that satisfying from a cathartic standpoint, nor does she gain anything character wise. Meanwhile, Lila getting exposed did nothing to really impede or harm her, and now she’s out in the wild with her 800+ fake families and the Butterfly miraculous, so what was really even the point of Marinette’s bathroom plan?

And then there’s “Recreation” and Gabriel - who gets to have his wish, his comatose wife alive, his son no longer (rightfully) hating his guts, the city adoring him, a goddamn statue, being credited for the city turning into a “utopia”, and all sorts of praises and perks he didn’t even earn/deserve, all at the small cost of his death and the plot forcing Marinette to keep her mouth shut for him. Gabriel gets to have everything he’s been throwing a tantrum over for 5 full seasons, while Marinette once again gets nothing (actually no, she did gain something - tons and tons of fandom salt aimed at her for the writers choices) as she’s forced to take on the burden of hiding his crimes.

and it just makes me feel we wasted our time with the story because seriously, what was the point? Why have Marinette lose when this should have been the point where all her losses so far helped her achieve victory when it matters most? Why let Gabriel win and reward him for all his abuses and crimes when the entire story seemed to be building up to getting him to either accept Emilie’s death or be forced to face the consequences of his choices? Why be building up that conflict between Adrien and his father about his wants and needs vs Gabriel’s constantly escalating expectations and not have them confront eachother in the end? Why focus so much on the idea of Mari finally getting the butterfly away from Gabriel if you’re just going to just give it to a new (old) villain and render the entire 5 season long battle for it pointless?

What was even the point in Marinette suffering all those defeats if you weren’t even going to let her win at the end, or at least stop Gabriel from getting what he wanted?

I’ll admit the leaks didn’t raise my expectations for this season but DAMNIT, after seeing them actually change stuff like Andre terrible dialogue in “Collusion” (though what he ends up saying is worse somehow), I expected something to prove it was going to be worth it in the end - and yet just like Mari, I’m venomed in the back by the show for daring having some expectation for them to actually care about making their Heroine’s suffering actually matter!

#Clover Rants Miraculously #ML Salt

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 6 months

Note

Me, reading some pro-Katara meta because I like the character.

The meta author: “The Legend of Korra” ruined Katara’s character! She was made Aang’s trophy wife, whose whole life is dedicated to taking care of him! She does not have a chance to fight! “The best healer” title is empty since she never succeeded in healing anyone, it is only used to show how strong the opponents are! She is not shown during the trial on Yakone or Jinora’s ceremony! She never got a statue! Bryke said that’s because she never did anything important aside from giving birth to and raising Aang’s kids! Only one of her kids cares about Southern Water Tribe culture, two other worship Air Nomads’ culture and think this one is more important! She’s such a great character, she deserves so much better!

Me, a fan of Katara: Okay, I kinda agree with the opinion on LoK, in this aspect it sucks. And if Bryke really said this thing, it sucks too. *starting learning to draw Katara to make a cool fanart with her sculpture and many other cool fanarts with her one day, because she deserves it and much more*

Me, not really a kataang shipper, reading some anti-kataang meta that I came across, because I am open to different opinions.

The meta author: We never see Katara’s POV on this relationship, only Aang’s! The kiss in “The Ember Island Players” was a horrible attack on Katara’s borders! Katara and Aang had a fight about killing Ozai and never resolved this conflict! And how can you ever ship two literal children, it’s immoral! Also, Aang is younger than Katara, he’s too immature for her! “The Legend of Korra” ruined Katara’s character! She was made Aang’s trophy wife, whose whole life is dedicated to taking care of him! She does not have a chance to fight! “The best healer” title is empty since …

Me: Well, the kiss in EIP really was not okay, and I would like to see some dialog about it before the finale. The talk solving the conflict would also be nice. I do think that this sweet embrace in the end is better than their final kiss, because yes, they are kids, I think it’s too early for them to kiss on the lips. But I know that the final kiss is important, cause this time it’s Katara making the first move, cause now Aang learned to respect her boundaries. Also, LoK sucks. With the rest I don’t agree, but people can have opinions that are different from mine…

Zutara fandom: Zutara is such a better alternative than kataang!

Me, also finding out that these meta authors – both pro-katara and anti-kataang - ship zutara: Okay, what can you offer instead?

Zutara fandom: Wouldn’t it be nice if Katara got her own chance to be a hero… by saving Zuko? Wouldn’t it be nice if Katara only ever cared for Zuko and looked after his every need? Wouldn’t it be nice if she married him and gave birth to one, two, three, four, five, six children? Also only ever helping the Fire Nation people? Wouldn’t it be nice if she cheated with Zuko on Aang? Wouldn’t it be nice if we draw zutara arts in canon setting, with Katara in Fire Nation clothes without anything blue at all/okay, some blue elements/okay, some epic or sexy blue dress that looks nothing like the Southern Water Tribe style shown in the “Avatar: the Last Airbender”, because with Zuko she will have absolutely no problems keeping her culture? Wouldn’t it be nice if she used bloodbending more often since despite everything we saw in the show there totally is something good about it?

Me: HOW ON EARTH THIS IS BETTER?! You know, I am growing more and more into kataang right now.

As usual, I won't comment on the Korra thing because it's been years since I last gave it a chance, and I can't remember much other than "I hate the knew characters and can barely recognize the old ones."

The very idea that we "Don't see Katara's side/interest in Aang/was never the one to make the first move before the finale" is already completely false and this fandom gotta stop repeating stuff Zutarians say without rewatching the show first.

She's immediately his best friend after meeting him, says she'll leave her tribe if he's banished (she obviously spoke without thinking and I doubt she would have done it, but still), and she says "The world can't aford to lose you to the Fire Nation, and neither can I" before he's taken away by Zuko. Her obvious affection for Aang right away is so obvious that Sokka immediately teases her by calling Aang her boyfriend.

She's jealous when he's paying more attention to his "fanclub" than to her in "Warriors of Kyoshi." She decided to kiss him on the cheek in "Bato Of The Water Tribe."

The kiss in "Cave Of Two Lovers" was her idea, she's offended when she thinks Aang is not interested, and blushing after they actually kiss. In "Bitter Work" she gets jealous when he calls Toph "Sifu", and glad when he does the same to her. She's visibly upset when Aang doesn't want to hug her in "The Serpent's pass" and is touched when he says she gives him hope. When he dies in "Crossroads of Destiny", Katara goes berserk - much like Oma did when Shu died, hence their musical theme as a couple being the same.

In "The Awakeing" She's clearly touched again when Aang realizes she didn't save his life at the last second, but actually brought him back from the dead, and is visibly grateful to her. She's jealous AGAIN in "The Headband" when she sees all the girls at the party being clearly charmed by him, and is then all cute, shy and flirty when they're dancing together. She's happy when he is proud of her for the whole "Painted Lady" thing. When he kisses her in the day of the eclipse, she's suprised but kisses back and blushes, and by the end of the episode is practically cuddling with him.

She only accepts Zuko into the group because Aang feels it would be the right thing to do, and she trusts him, and then THREATENS TO KILL ZUKO if he steps out of line and hurts her best friend again. And in Ember Island, when Aang full on asks her if it's true that she only sees him as little brother and would never even consider dating him, she says "I didn't say that, an actor said that"

A 14-year-old girl who had crushes on other boys (and ended up going nowhere) and is busy being a child soldier in the middle of a war being a little unsure if she likes her best friend or if she likes likes him is not the same as "She never demonstrated ANY interest in him." There moments of Kataang being one-sided (again, because Katara was into Haru and specially Jet for a little while), but it was always very clear that show was setting up a Kataang endgame - one Katara was clearly written to want.

Also I disagree with the "they're too young to kiss on the lips." I don't know if it's just a case of different cultures doing things differently, but at least in my experience here in Brazil, 12-14 years old is EXACTLY the age where most kids start actually acting on their crushes, dating, and kissing - I'm not even talking a quick, cutesy kiss, I'm talking "I witness the unpleasant sight of my classmates aggressively making out in/under the school's stairs more than enough times to realize I was not the only kid/pre-teen with hormones coming out my ears"

And about what Zutarians do to "fix" Katara, don't forget: she needs to lose any and all agency she had as character so she can be the damsel in distress Zuko will save.

#anti zutara #pro kataang

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