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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Heyyy

So I really liked the Damian Wayne x reader platonic friend thingy your wrote. I really feel like there should be more of those.

Anyways, k cam where to respect something similar. Can u maybe write hc on what it'd be like to be friends w him? Like bantering n stuff and maybe u can focus a bit on how Bruce feels abt it? Oh and bonus points if the reader is awkward.

Toodles!

Being friends with Damian isn’t easy in the slightest, mainly because he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him in the first place. So the fact that you managed to accomplish that was a major achievement already.

However that didn’t mean anything afterwards was made any easier for you just because you managed to make the impossible become possible. No. Why? Damian is one hell of a dry conversationalist if Titus or animals in general weren’t involved.

He’s basically an extroverts worst nightmare given a human form. For no matter how hard you tried to bait him into giving more then a one word answer out of him, it always ends with Damian not taking the bait and allowing a air of awkward silence to befall you both while everyone else was having a better time then you.

You: hey Damian.

Him: hello l/n.

You: how have you been?

Him: in peak condition, why?

You: it’s because I don’t see you that much outside of school, it’s almost as if your allergic to social interaction.

Him: Tt. why should I go out of my way to do such a thing? I have you as an acquaintance don’t I?

You: I mean yeah I guess-

Him: then I have no need to expand my friend group, for they’ll only disappoint me. Now is that all?

You: I mean there’s not much else to talk about at this point.

Him: good.

*cue to the pair of you sitting in utter, awkward silence*

When Damian says one friend is all he needs, he genuinely means it. One is enough for him. He doesn’t need anymore because he knows that he doesn’t have the time for them. Plus he might not say it out loud but he does appreciate your friendship, even if your both awkward individuals within most social situations, but he is happy that someone finally gave him a chance to be a friend.

So even if you were to ever ask why you were friends it’ll probably go something a bit like this;

You: why are you friends with me?

Him: you aren’t an idiot, plus you’re the only one who isn’t insufferable.

You: is that meant to be taken as a compliment or…

Him: take it as you see fit.

You: okay…

Damian as a friend would be protective i’d like to think? I mean you are literally the first friend he’s made so naturally he’s going to feel something when he sees you being friends with anyone else that wasn’t him.

Was it insecurity that you not day might not want to be his friend anymore? Possibly.

Will he ever admit to it though? No. This is Damian we’re talking about, of course he won’t.

Also being friends with Damian would best summed up as being two people who shouldn’t work but ultimately do either way, kind of like an ‘against all their differences they’re the best of friends’ type of duo because nobody and I mean nobody saw a friendship between you two ever happening. Ever.

Not even the great Bruce Wayne.

Speaking about him. If you ever got to visit the Wayne Manor and meet his father aka THE Bruce Wayne. Take it as a sign as you’ve made it as Damian’s best friend.

Would you shit yourself upon meeting quite possibly the most powerful man in Gotham? Yes and your sweating buckets on top of that, all the while Damian would be stood next to you completely unfazed as he introduced you to his father as his best mate.

Damian: father.

Bruce: Damian.

Damian: *points to you* this is my best friend and I expect that they get treated with respect during their visit here.

You: hi- hello it’s an honour to meet you M-Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: tell me how you’ve come to befriend my son?

You: we were in the same art class and I noticed that he had no one to sit next to, and so I offered for him to sit with me, keep in mind I’m not that well liked and practically had a whole table to myself, and I’d like to think our friendship started with that small act of kindness Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: and had Damian been kind to you?

You: in his own unique way sir but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bruce: *smiled* you’re a good kid l/n and you can go ahead and drop the formalities and call me Bruce instead. I shall go and tell Alfred to add another plate at the dinner table tonight.

Bruce, upon hearing that Damian had made a friend, wanted to meet you within immediate effect and see whether or not his son made for a good judge of character and he wasn’t disappointed.

Given the fact that you were awkward aside, you were defiantly what Damian needed for a friend, and Bruce was happy to see his son finally get to be normal for once as he watched from the window as Damian practically dragged you out to the spacious backyard with an excitable Titus on your heels as the Great Dane tried to get up and personal with you.

Alfred: they are certainly a pair, aren’t they master Bruce.

Bruce: an odd pair they may seem but they even out the other perfectly. Besides when was the last time Damian looked genuinely happy?

Alfred; can’t say that I recall sir.

Bruce: neither can I. At first I was sceptical but I’m glad being wrong. I can only hope that a friendship like theirs will stand the test of time because there will be times that will test their limits with one another. But if they’re as good a pair as I think they are then they’ll be perfectly fine.

Alfred: couldn’t have put it better myself sir *smiles alongside Bruce as they watched you and Damian act on your own within the others presence while in comfortable silence as Titus fell asleep at both of your feet.*

Yeah you’ll both be alright. You’ve got each other after all and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

#damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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letsgetrowdy43 · 3 months

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All you gotta do is ask—

Jack Hughes x reader

Request: Maybe something about jack’s best friend going to a game and is wearing someone else’s jersey and he gets jealous. Like he likes the reader but hasn’t said so. Reader likes him and doesn’t know he feels the same until they’re out after the game and he says something along the lines of “my girl shouldn’t have someone else’s name on her back. It’s wrong” and maybe cute fluffy ending because this girl is hormonal and needs the emotional rollercoaster

Jack's eyes caught hers from the bench, Ellen to her right chatting about Luke's rookie year, as she smiled fondly at him, giving him a little wave before his attention was pulled back towards the game.

"He adores you," Ellen smiled as the young girl turned to her with reddened cheeks. "What?" "Jack," she nodded towards her son on the ice, the two of them watching as he took a shot and the puck flew straight into the back of the net, both his mother and his best friend shot onto their feet, screaming with their hands in the air.

He faced the crowd with a grin, tongue stuck out of his mouth and he yelled out of excitement, sending a wink in the direction of his best friend as she blushed at the action, "he loves you," Ellen continued as the crowd calmed down, the devil's goal song still playing loudly as the girl swallowed thickly. "I love him too," she said with a soft smile, "he's my best friend," Ellen gave her a knowing look before they went back to watching the game.

The game ended with a Devils win, the first one in their string of home games before the All-Star break.

Ellen, Jim, and the young girl sat in the family room just outside of the locker room, a smile on her face as baby Haula ran over to her as she chatted with Kristen. She was pulled out of their conversation as the door opened to reveal Luke followed by a grinning Jack who maneuvered his way around the room to get to her while Luke went to their parents.

"You played so good," she grinned as he pulled her in for a hug, "my superstar," she whispered as he laughed at the nickname. "I scored for you," he mumbled into her shoulder, before looking down her back to see a larger 43 on her back, he pulled away tensely, a look of confusion on his face as her face filled with worry.

"You're wearing a Luke jersey?" he gasped. "Yeah, he gave it to me before the game, your jersey is in my car," she grinned, but his smile did not return. "I scored for you and this is how you repay me," he whispered, tone whiney as she rolled her eyes at his antics.

"I'm being serious, this feels so wrong, my girl should not be wearing my brother's jersey," her brows furrowed as her eyes caught his. "Your girl?" "Don't kid yourself, you've been mine since we were in middle school," he said smugly as her face grew a new shade of red. "You can't just deem me 'you girl' J," she said with a grin, her arms wrapping around his neck, "you gotta ask me first," her tone was taunting as he leaned in to kiss her but she dodged him and stared at him with raised brows

"You gotta ask," she fumbled, fingers playing with his damp curls. "You've always been mine Y/n/n," she shook her head, loving the mental hoops she was making him jump through as she smiled menacingly. "just ask J, it's all you gotta do, or you could beg, whatever floats your boat," her grin grew as he rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said batting his lashes as she giggled at the theatrics of it all, "Would you do me the honours of being my girlfriend?" he asked so kindly which rewarded him with a slow kiss to the lips instead of an answer, the action telling enough that it was an obvious yes.

a groan sounded from behind them as Luke, Dawson, and John grimaced at the sight in front of them. "Kissing my brother in my jersey, yucky," Luke said which gained a nice strong elbow to his ribs from his father who just smiled proudly at the couple.

"Trust me, she's taking it off," the entire family room groaned in disgust as she hid her face in his chest in embarrassment, "I didn't mean it that way guys, don't be gross!" which gained a laugh from the room as he stood them with wide eyes and rosy cheeks.

#rotalks: hughes brothers night!!#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 4 months

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Please may I have a Blue exorcist headcanon of Rin Okumura with a female S/O (she is a highly skilled exorcist and Rin's childhood friend too) who can speak to the dead and see them..it was probably due to the fact that her father is the grim reaper. S/O mainly found it heartbreaking sometimes when the ghost is often a child who died in a car when a train hit it or a soldier didn't realise he was dead and so on..but she helps them move on, helps victim's families move on from the pain..S/O knows that every family member suffered differently..People thought she was weird..talking to thin air but S/O was talking to the dead.

Yukio's relationship with Rin's girlfriend too and what would he think of her ability to speak and see the dead.

Hi! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the headcanons!

Fandom: Blue Exorcist

Characters: Rin Okumura and Yukio Okumura x gn! Reader (separate)

He’s not going to lie. Rin finds your abilities a bit creepy. Does that mean he cares about you any less? Absolutely not! If anything, he thinks it makes you even more interesting.

He is definitely intimidated by your father though. Sure, his dad is Satan. But your dad is literally the Grim Reaper. Anyone who wasn’t at least a bit scared of that must be crazy.

Even though he can’t see the dead, Rin will help you out with aiding them in moving on however he can. He thinks you’re very honourable for wanting to help the departed.

If anyone dares to comment on how they think you’re weird for talking to “air” while Rin’s around, they’re going to have a very angry son of Satan yelling at them to keep their wrong opinions to themselves. He’s your personal cheerleader and bodyguard.

Yukio thinks your abilities are fascinating, however he is going to be suspicious of you if you can’t give him a very good reason as to why you can see them. He’s just not a very trusting person.

If you try to keep your powers or heritage secret from him, he will trust you even less. However, if you’re open about these things, his respect for you will rise.

He knows it’s not easy revealing these sorts of things to people, especially when you don’t know how they will react. As a result, he will also defend you should people comment on your seemingly strange behaviour.

Thinks you’re a good partner for Rin, especially if you’re more on the quiet side. He hopes your empathetic and people pleasing tendencies will rub off on his brother and help mellow him out a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

#writing #fanfic #headcanons #headcanon request #request #blue exorcist #blue exorcist x reader #rin okumura #rin okumura x reader #yukio okumura #yukio okumura x reader

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nunalastor · 7 days

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Me smooshing two AUs together like a heathen (kinda)

Alastor is Cain au (with his shadow being Able)

WITH an ‘our boyfriend’ twist that Al is with Michael first! (They’re literally married, your honour) making Luci the ‘bad guy’ of this au’s romance drama.

Alastor being gone for 7 years was actually an accident, he and Michael went to another galaxy for their anniversary and forgot about how differently time moves in the two places.

Cain/Alastor isn’t technically dead, his mortal body can’t die, he’s just, ya know, napping somewhere on earth while his soul is off on an adventure! Maybe the government has his body? maybe it’s in some long forgotten temple? Who knows?

Also, Adam doesn’t know where his sons (or Eve) are or the fact that he’s Micheal’s father-in-law.

Eve is Roo, and she’s the one who taught Able his shadow abilities. She still adores her boys and keeps an eye on them.

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #serial roommates #abel hate blog #adam #eve #alastor #michael #roo

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raineandsky · 5 months

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#82

“You, young sir, will be appointed to watch over my son—my rightful heir to the throne,” the king says breezily, and then he’s moving onto the knight next to him.

The knight dips his head, half in acknowledgement, half to hide his growing smile. The crown prince. He’s going to be following the king’s eldest as he makes his regal trips to the people, as he works towards his rightful place, as he accepts the crown and becomes king.

Honour isn’t a strong enough word for what the knight is feeling.

A young boy—a servant, the knight assumes—leads the knight to the chambers of the prince. The knight will introduce himself, he’ll pledge himself to the prince’s cause, and the knight will get the glory of riding with royalty at the prince’s side.

The servant pauses outside a door and knocks with three rhythmic raps. A maid opens it, not the prince, and the knight holds back a confused frown. He would’ve thought the prince would be ready to meet his personal guard by now.

The servant leaves without a word. “The king has appointed you?” the maid says vaguely.

“To protect the heir to the throne.” The knight can’t help the tiny smile at his own words. “Yes.”

The maid hums and lets him in. It’s a little dark inside, to his surprise, with candles dotted around and shrouding the room in wispy shadows. She gestures rather informally to a golden cot against one of the back walls.

“Don’t wake him,” she says shortly, her voice low. “I just got him to sleep.”

“The…” The knight looks into the cot a little apprehensively. “The baby?”

The maid throws him a glance like he’s lost his mind. “The heir to the throne.”

A year passes. The knight asks no questions about his predicament. The king’s eldest rides out with a different knight, speaking to the people of the land and working to take his place at the throne. The knight’s glorious ‘watching over’ of the prince is mostly staring into the cot as the baby stares back.

Two years. The child learns to walk. The king visits, sometimes. He showers the infant in love and praise, but he never entirely lets up his regal persona in front of the knight and the maid.

Five years. The child talks a lot now. The knight nods along to whatever nonsense he’s saying that day. He shoves things into the knight’s hands, toys and blankets and wooden swords, and the knight oohs and ahhs the appropriate amount before handing it back. The child loves it.

Six years. Tutors start visiting. Maths and law and economics and war. The child sits with poorly contained boredom and nods along to whatever his teachers are saying. The moment they’re gone he’s back to playing, usually forcing the knight’s hand into whatever game he’s concocting.

Eight years. The king visits less often, tied down with royal matters and dealing with his eldest’s growing impatience for the throne. He arrives with smiles and kindness reserved only for his blood, but he never gets one back. The child hides behind the knight’s legs more often than not, and cries bitterly when he’s forced along with the king. The knight and the maid apologise heavily when it happens. It happens a lot.

Twelve years. The child has a favourite toy—his wooden sword and shield. He constantly asks if the knight will show him how it’s really done. The knight gives him a couple of harmless tips, and the prince lights up like the sun every time he swings his sword.

“You only have a few more years until you’re ready for the throne,” the knight tells him as he swings his sword at the maid, who’s long since learnt to stop reacting. “Are you ready to be king?”

“I don’t want to be king,” the prince whines. Both the maid and the knight freeze—neither of them have heard this before.

“It’s in your blood, your highness,” the knight continues carefully. “It’ll be a privilege to rule. You’ll make your father proud.”

“He’s barely my father. I don’t want to be a king,” the prince reiterates. “I want to be a knight, like you.”

The maid throws the knight a sidelong, entirely unsubtle glance. He doesn’t appreciate the accusation.

“You’ll be in charge of all the knights,” the knight tries a little desperately. “You can lead them all to victory. That’s better than being a knight.”

The child scoffs dramatically. “I doubt that.”

Fourteen years. The king’s eldest sits at his bedside and demands the throne. The king refuses him. The king dies, and his eldest flies into a blind rage. He wants the throne, and the king has already told him exactly who is taking it from him.

Fourteen years of sitting in a golden nursery and watching over a child have led the knight to this moment. He’s meant to feel proud, honoured, to serve the prince. He’s meant to be ready to lay down his life for the child to live in his stead.

And he is. He would do anything for this fourteen year old who loves scaring his maid and demanding fighting tips from his knight and pretending to listen to his tutors.

But when the king’s eldest kicks the door down to the nursery, the knight isn’t entirely sure it’ll be just him giving up his life for the crown.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #fantasci writing #high fantasy #fantasy writing #we decorated our desks for christmas at work #tell me why everyone is so all in bro. goddamn #i had a couple of lil snow topped houses with tealights in em #why did some BUILD A CARDBOARD FIREPLACE #im stressed bro im meant to be the creative in this place. a fireplace???????????#dont get me wrong im hella impressed. but goddamn. how did you find the time

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melrosing · 4 months

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MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 1

finally worked out how all the events of the rebellion break down into ten episodes you better believe im so serious about finishing this

anyway we're onto season 2 and rhaegar's about to get silly

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

title for this one: the most i've ever thought about petyr baelish

Open to a woman’s screams. The chaos of the birthing room as Elia gives birth to Aegon with great difficulty. Rhaegar stands watching on, anxious, as the baby emerges silent - it takes several frightening moments before the boy cries out. Elia collapses once she hears him, and there’s a great rush to recover her. Meanwhile, Rhaegar is presented with the child. The maester says he is glad that Elia has been delivered of a son, as he fears she will not be able to bear another. Rhaegar, looking at his son, murmurs that this must be Aegon. But, he says, there must be a third. There cannot be a third, says the maester

Opening creds. if this were an anime we’d have changed the song by now so we’re going from caramelldansen to the lucky star opening

Jaime Lannister training in the yard of the Red Keep with two other members of the Kingsguard, Lewyn Martell and Oswell Whent. The king has kept him at arm’s length since Harrenhal, so Jaime has been able to forget the circumstances of his joining the KG for a bit and enjoy training with these elite knights - he seems to have built some rapport with Lewyn and Oswell already. Lewyn suggests the approaching Barristan Selmy try Jaime; Barristan, who is still dubious of a teenager’s place in the KG, declines and says he has come to convey a message instead - Aerys has requested Jaime’s presence in the throne room. Jaime, surprised, goes alone

Aerys, accompanied by Arthur Dayne, is receiving congratulations from lords and ladies of the court on the birth of his grandson, his Hand Lord Merryweather proposing a great tourney. Aerys dismisses all but Arthur upon Jaime’s arrival, and bids him closer - we get the sense that Aerys has harboured some residual fears about Jaime, but attempts to push those aside now. He has Jaime stop before him at the top of the steps to the throne, and looks at him directly. Quivering, then almost fond, Aerys tells Jaime he has his mother’s face. Then, his voice hardening: ‘but you’re your father’s child, I know.’ Arthur, from the foot of the throne, calls Jaime down ‘with his grace’s permission’, which Aerys allows. Jaime gratefully acquiesces, and follows Arthur to the exit. Arthur tells him to relieve Jonothor Darry in Maegor’s Holdfast, and watches Jaime leave with a hard, searching look

SUDDENLY!!! Big clash of swords. We’re at a melée at the Eyrie. Robert makes short work of various opponents one after the other. Faced suddenly with Ned, he grins apologetically before tossing him comfortably to the side, finally duking it out with Lyn Corbray (yes i remember him) and winning to great ardour

With Ned and Robert afterwards striding back towards the castle. Robert suggests Ned puts his back into it next time, he knows he was letting him win. Ned replies that he doesn’t get as much out of this southern sport as Robert. Nonetheless, he notes that Robert fought with fire today, and Robert replies that he was imagining each of his opponents as Rhaegar Targaryen. His marriage to Lyanna will be brought forward in light of the Prince’s odd behaviour at Harrenhal - whether Rhaegar was drunk or mad as his father, Robert will not share his betrothed. Anyway why don’t they go unwind at a brothel later lol

At camp with Lyanna and Rickard, who are travelling through the Riverlands for Brandon’s wedding - they’re camped near Harrenhal, awaiting his arrival before they travel back to Riverrun with him. Lyanna and Rickard aren’t on the best terms: Rickard has recently pulled forward her marriage to Robert in an attempt to defend her honour following events concerning the Prince last year. Lyanna appeals to Rickard once again to postpone the wedding; Rickard says he believes Lyanna will learn the appeal of marriage when she sees Brandon married to Catelyn. Lyanna bitterly wonders if Catelyn would be so happy if she knew that Brandon had loved before. Rickard, angry to hear his daughter talking of THAT kind of thing cough, says a man can love before, to better know his wife when he meets her. Lyanna asks why it’s a different rule for women? Rickard scolds her, reminds her he’s made her a fine match and that the wedding is being brought forward for her benefit - she’s been the cause of enough trouble already. Lyanna storms off into the woods, Rickard calling her back angrily

At Riverrun with the Tullys - big ole feast. Hoster raises a toast to Catelyn’s engagement to Brandon, as Catelyn smiles shyly at his side. Petyr, on the sidelines, looks ready to combust. The feast turns to a dance: Catelyn takes her first turn with Brandon (he's a very showy dancer, and makes her laugh with big spins and flourishes). Then she dances w Hoster and Brynden, whilst Petyr dances with Lysa, constantly craning his neck to look over at Cat. Eventually Petyr manages to break away from Lysa and ask Cat for a dance. Cat, in high spirits, giggles and jokes with him, and Petyr, already a few drinks down, tries to kiss her. Catelyn pushes him away laughing, and Brandon, having seen it all, jokingly scolds Petyr for trying. That something so serious to him is a joke to the pair of them stings terribly. Petyr skulks away to his room

Rhaegar with Elia. Rhaenys is playing in his lap, but both her parents are distracted. Eventually Elia looks to Rhaegar, and Rhaegar, realising they’re about to talk, asks a maid to take Rhaenys away to play with Viserys. When they're gone, Rhaegar remains silent - but Elia reads his mind. With some strain, she tells him she’s given him all she can now: they may have no love for another (Rhaegar does not jump to quarrel this, and Elia’s heart visibly sinks despite itself) - again, they may have no love for one another, but she still means to do her duty. These children are both of theirs, and they must protect them. Rhaegar nods, but his mind appears to be elsewhere

Brandon is due to part ways with the Tullys for now as he goes to meet Rickard near Harrenhal. Catelyn whispers her thanks in Hoster’s ear for the fine match just as soon as Brandon’s out of earshot - but Petyr overhears. His face twisting, he immediately steps forward to challenge Brandon (who is already mounting his horse) for Catelyn’s hand. Catelyn in utter shock, Hoster Tully looking fairly murderous like 'you do this on the day of my daughter's engagement'. Brandon is first stunned, then amused, then stunned again when he realises Petyr is serious. He tries to put the boy off, saying he’ll meet a lady of his own one day, but the condescension only turns Petyr’s eyes darker - Brandon sees that. Fed up trying with the kid, he says he’ll humour him, if it only helps Petyr come to his senses

Rhaegar deep in the library at the Red Keep with Arthur Dayne. Surrounded by books and scrolls, he mutters, uncomprehending, what Elia has told him - that there will be no more children, no third head of the dragon. Once all his dreams had told him to choose Elia, and he had followed them to her without a care for his own wants or desires. But now his dreams show something different: they show what he fears his heart wants - so how can he trust whether it’s truly the visions he follows, and not his heart? Arthur like idk that sounds rough man

Petyr arrives before Brandon shoddily armed, and Brandon (in full armour) declares that this would be a poor fight indeed. The Tullys watch on, Hoster still raging, Cat and Lysa in a panic. Brandon offers Petyr opportunity to yield, but Petyr strikes his breastplate pathetically with his sword. Brandon offers him the chance to yield again, and still Petyr seeks to provoke him. Finally, Petyr lands a blow that comes a little too close to blood for Brandon’s liking. Finally enraged, he sends Petyr flying with a fist, never drawing his sword. Petyr attempts to rise again, but Brandon stamps down on his chest (Lysa begins shrieking), and Petyr chokes. Catelyn screams, and begs Brandon to leave the boy - she’d never marry him anyhow, but he was dear to her once. Brandon raises his eyebrows, and wipes his foot on the grass. Washing his hands of the business, he kisses Catelyn’s hand before departing, whilst Petyr coughs up blood into the dirt, watching Brandon ride away with pure hatred in his eyes

Ned helps a drunken Robert back up the spiral stairs to his room once again. They pass Jon Arryn’s solar, and he smiles with a touch of conspiracy to suggest their secrets are their own. Ned grimaces - he has no secrets

Don’t ask me where the nearest brothel is to the eyrie i hate to think. I don’t know how they got back with ned half carrying a drunk robert they just did

Petyr lies barely conscious in a dour back room of Riverrun - all that Hoster is willing to afford him now. The door creaks open, and a figure steps through the door, candle in hand. Petyr says: ‘Cat.' The figure answers: ‘It’s me.’ Petyr, eyes barely open behind the bruising, grins a bloody grin. The figure tells him tearfully that Hoster means to send him back to the Fingers as soon as he’s healed, that it’s all monstrously unfair, that Brandon is a brute, that she hates to see Petyr suffer so. Petting his face, the figure says that no-one knows she’s here, so for tonight at least they can do what they like. Petyr grins wider as Lysa leans in to kiss him

In KL: Jaime, patrolling the courtyard, sees green light flashing in the windows of the throne room. He frowns, uncomprehending, and walks carefully towards a side door to investigate. Opening it, he hears muffled screams coming from the throne room beyond the next door, and approaches with great trepidation, one arm outstretched. SUDDENLY!!! Arthur Dayne emerges from the throne room, and we have the faintest glimpse of a bright green light: a terrible scream rings out. Just as quickly, the door is closed again. Arthur studies Jaime a moment, then suggests he goes to bed: his duties are done for the night

Rhaegar having an absolute Willy Wonka’s tunnel of visions. Blood seeping into a fast-running river, dancing green flames, guts spattered across stone floors. And a blue rose again. Rhaegar opens his eyes at once, suddenly resolute

Lyanna, sat alone in the dark woods, turning a dried flower crown about in her hands

#asoiaf #sparknotes robert's rebellion

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aphrodisiac-siren · 1 year

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Lowborn!Aemond x Highborn!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of Prince Daemon and a close friend of Prince Aegon who, like your father, is notorious for sneaking off to the streets of flea bottom. The one time you decide to join him on his nightly endeavours, you run into a charming yet mysterious someone who’s as beautiful as the sapphire that’s replaced one of his eyes.

Now a year later after the both of you went your separate ways, it would seem like the goodbyes you both exchanged were not permanent.

Warnings: none.

part 1, part 2, part 3

Part 4 [final chapter]

Aemond felt that Ashai seemed to be dull in comparison to King's Landing but then again he sensed that it was simply because he was presently a bit down after having to say goodbye to his princess.

Stop it, he scolded himself, you knew this was going to happen the moment you dared to fall for her.

Still, it had been well over a few months since he'd made his arrival to this new town and it was bothersome that he still felt for you the same way he did when he first kissed you.

Aemond had taken up a proper job this time, instead of resorting to his regular ways of stealing. He had started out as a chimney sweep for a Barron; Robert, a widower, who lived further down the harbour in a lavish manor. Then later he'd been given the job to read to the older man since he was a bit short-sighted. Eventually, Robert began to treat Aemond like a son, even though he had one of his own. He had Aemond dine at the table with him and his boy. The baron and his son weren’t as close and with the man taking a liking toward Aemond, it only increased the animosity between father and son.

Robert had then begun to take Aemond's input regarding his business of wine and Aemond was happy to give insights, which proved to be beneficial to the business. Aemond was granted access to the manor's library and he spent his spare time reading. He began to take an interest in history, particularly the Targaryen dynasty. Of course, it had nothing to do with you.

Aemond was well aware of the fights that arose between Robert and his son on his account and had many times considered leaving but the Baron told him to ignore his boy. Finally there came a day when the Baron's son wanted to make a life of his own, away from this small town. He took whatever wealth he needed and left, leaving the Baron quiet heart broken.

"Aemond" Robert called for the boy who was sitting in the library but a few feet away from him "come here son"

Aemond put away his book, slightly annoyed that he was interrupted when he was getting to the best part. He was reading about this war dragon, Vhagar.

"Yes, sir?" he politely asked as he sat in a chair across from the older man.

"I have no wife, and now it would seem that my son has left as well" he spoke in a calm voice "my business has been doing well as of late, I suppose I have to thank you for some of your suggestions"

"I was happy to help" Aemond smiled.

"Yes, and it would seem that the royal family too has much appreciation for my wine," he said rather proudly "They wish to serve it at a grand feast they’re having at the end of this month, a feast to which I have received an invite. How would you like to go with me, as my heritor"

"Uh.. I-" Aemond was at a loss for words. Was he truly considering taking him to the royal feast?

"I'm getting old and more weak by the day, I need someone to take on my business and carry my name after I have passed" he went on "Someone who is equally just as involved with the winery as I have been"

"That is quiet an honour, sir" Aemond subtlety pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

"First off, we need to buy you something better to wear. Maybe something that might catch the eye of the princess Y/N"

"Princess Y/N" Aemond's heart skipped a beat at the mention of your name "she-she'll be at the feast?"

"Of course she'll be at the feast, it's been arranged for her to begin with," Robert said as a matter-of-factly "Oh you don’t know about the details of the feast do you?"

Aemond only nodded in confusion.

"It is a gathering for the princess to find herself a suitor"

As excited as Aemond was for the feast, he felt just as much nervous. The boy felt like a fish out of water. He had never stepped foot inside the castle and once he found himself in the midst of nobles, he immediately felt out of place. And it did not help when people constantly kept turning to stare at him and his eye patch, it made him even more self-conscious.

"Don’t fidget" Robert whispered and Aemond immediately stopped fiddling with the buttons at the cuff of his sleeve.

The hall in which the feast was being held was rather spacious and Aemond immediately felt so small.

"I'll only be a moment" Robert told him before he wandered off to find the king and the queen, to thank them for the invite, leaving a rather nervous Aemond amidst the sea of nobles.

You were seated at the large table next to Aegon. You huffed a sigh as you slouched in your chair and Aegon snickered at the sight.

"You have a room full of suitable husbands and this is how you spend the evening?" he raised a brow as he playfully nudged you "you should feel lucky you get to pick who you marry, a privilege I was not granted sadly"

"I hardly call this a privilege" you scoffed in response, reaching for your goblet of wine "all these men are here only because of my title. Besides, I did not wish to get married so soon"

"Remember when we were children, we promised each other that if we didn’t find a partner, we'd marry each other" Aegon chuckled at the memory "gods, we were so naïve"

You smiled softly as you took a sip of your wine. Things were so much simpler when you were younger. All you had to worry about that time was which dress you'd wear for the day.

You lazily looked around and almost choked on the wine you were drinking. You immediately spat it back into the cup, not caring how improper that was of you.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked with concern, patting your back as you began to cough.

"I'm fine" you responded in a strained voice before you quickly stood up, your chair screeching against the stone floor as you pushed it backwards. You left the table in a hurry, not bothering to say an 'excuse me' before you walked toward the crowd of nobles.

"Finally" Aegon sighed, thinking that at last you decided to go and actually talk with the men who had come with hopes of being betrothed to you.

You did not care about them. No, a certain someone with an eye patch, who was looking around like a lost puppy had caught your eye instead.

You were unsure at first, if it was truly him. What would he be doing at the Red keep? He was in Ashai to your knowledge or maybe he had left for Dorn, where he'd told you his younger sister was staying ever since she joined the sisters of the faith. Still, there was an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe, it was him.

"Aemond?" you called out, expecting no reaction from the boy who was curiously looking around as he fidgeted with his sleeves.

To your surprise, he turned at the mention of his name, his blue eye meeting yours.

You froze, as if you'd seen a ghost or worse: as if you were dreaming. Your breath hitched in your throat and by the looks of it, even Aemond seemed stunned.

"What are you-"

"How have you-"

The both of you spoke at the same time and immediately, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. Aemond only smiled, allowing you to speak first.

"You're here" you simply stated, taking a step toward him and Aemond instinctively responded by holding out his hand for you to take, just like how he always would when the both of you met in secret.

"I am" his voice came out in a whisper when he felt you slip your hand into his.

Your eyes darted from his face toward his neck and you reached out with your other hand to gently examine what caught your attention. Aemond drew a sharp breath when he felt your cool fingers graze against the skin of his neck as you touched the piece of jewellery he wore. It was a simple silver chain with a small ring dangling from it. Your ring.

"You still have it" the corners of your lips turned up to form a smile.

"Of course" he looked down adoringly at you as he tried to pinch himself to make sure this was real, a gesture that you happened to catch.

"I'm here" you assured as you gently caressed his cheek, right below his scar and Aemond tilted his head a bit to further press his cheek into your palm.

"How did you.." you wanted to asked him how he entered but you knew it sounded rude. By the way he was dressed, in a sharp formal attire, there was a chance he was accompanied by someone "Who are you here with?"

"Oh, the Baron of Ashai, Robert" he told you, momentarily looking away to find him in the crown but to no avail. He turned to look at you again "He's the one who is supplying wine for the feast"

"You're with the Baron?" You repeated, a bit shocked "he mentioned he was here with his son"

"Ah well, he sort of-" Aemond heaved a nervous sigh "he's named me his heritor. I must admit, him calling me his son is a touch overwhelming"

"So that means you’re a Barron" You asked to which Aemond responded with a shy grin. Gods you had missed his smile.

"Man with a title" he looked down at you with a playful smirk "something I recall being of some sort of importance when it comes to courting you"

You bit your lip to control your girlish giggle but it didn’t work; Aemond never failed to make you laugh.

"I take it you are hoping to win my hand?" you asked with the same amount of playfulness to which Aemond simply shrugged, pretending at first that he didn’t care which only made you giggle more to his reaction.

"Will kissing you help me being named victor?" he asked slyly and you rolled your eyes at his playful demeanour.

"It most certainly will" you smiled but quickly placed your finger on his lips when he leaned closer. You went to whisper in his ear when you saw confusion flash across his face. He clearly did not know of the mannerisms one had to follow at court and that was alright, you were patient enough to tell him about each one "not here. It would give rise to quite a scandalous rumour"

"Oh" he cleared his throat "apologies, I thought that since-"

"It's alright" you assured him with a gentle squeeze of his hand "come, I have to introduce you to my kepa"

"Kepa?" Aemond asked as he followed you.

"My father" you translated "he's at the table with the rest of my family"

"Oh your family" Aemond felt the nerves getting to him again. He did not know if he would manage to maintain his calm composure in front of the King and the Queen "m-must I meet them?"

"It is a requirement if you wish to court me" you playfully nudged him "don’t worry, they're not as intimidating as they seem. Besides, you do have to speak to them at some point if you wish to discuss a possible betrothal"

"I- I can ask for your hand in marriage?" Aemond had never been more grateful for his title and suddenly seemed to be a touch more eager than yourself to meet your family.

As you walked, you turned to look at him and without thinking you leaned toward him and kissed his cheek, catching him by surprise.

"Thought you said kissing was off limits for now" he grinned.

"I think an innocent kiss to the cheek is alright" you smirked up at him to which Aemond chuckled in response.

The both of you walked toward you family, laughing joyously, hand in hand.

Taglist: @yentroucnagol @kateris-world @praline357

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #hotd #house of the dragon #tom bennett #world on fire #aemond #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aegon targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #aemond targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen #queen alicent

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pianocat939 · 1 year

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Imagine this; Yandere! Splinter who sees reader as their own daughter, their interaction is like father and daughter bond and how reader is sweet and gentle also has a motherly figure it reminds him of his mother, but noticed how his sons falling in love or having crush on reader, Imagine Splinter would been like; "Y/N, be my daughter in law and Marry one of my sons"

and reader been like "…eh? (• ▽ •💧)"

Of course, the (yandere) turtles HEARD what their father's words and they start like having competition and who will have reader's hand in marriage. What do you think or react like if one of turtles won? and one of them lose?

With all the feminine-based phrases in this ask, let me confirm that MC is gender-neutral, as always. (I was considering copying and re-wording it tbh)

Tw: isolation, kidnapping, depressive state

Splinter was never the most attentive when it came to what his sons liked or what they did on uneventful days. But recently, he’s noticed a significant change in their behaviour, especially when a certain someone is around.

Leo tends to do everything they ask for, even if it means getting up from a comfortable position. He gets aggressive when someone interrupts his time with them, even if it’s the most innocent creature to exist.

His youngest, Michelangelo, talks about them for an eternity, and not a single word is hateful. Once, when Splinter wandered into his room, the rat man found a shrine of photos, some hoodies, and even a book titled, “Praises for your Divinity”.

His eldest had considerably changed as well: the boy will start to tear up if they announce they have to leave, and on some occasions cling onto them. The worst part is the fact he killed a Foot ninja for following them once (and possibly more).

And finally, his genius son, Purple. He was always inside his lab, only coming out when needed, but if the special someone arrives, he’s already out there waiting at the entrance 10 minutes before. Additionally, he complains how unhealthy their other friends are and mutters about putting more trackers.

Even a mosquito could see that the boys are hopelessly in love, and Splinter can’t help but find it endearing. The person who they admire, Y/n, had always been so caring to this mutant, albeit broken family. It was no surprise that this would happen. Splinter knew in his mind that Y/n would be a great addition to the family. Speaking of which…

“Y/n, would you be willing to be my future child in-law?”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, my boys may not ever marry. They may never find love. It would be dishonorable of me if I didn’t see at least one of them get married so…Maybe in the future, are you willing to accept their hand?”

“Uh…I’ll think about it.”

Meanwhile outside the very room are the four sons, their eyes widened in shock. Someone is gonna be able to marry Y/n in the future, with their father’s approval. They slowly slide off into another room, not wanting the pair to hear the conversation.

“Marry? I get the honour to marry them? This may be the greatest moment of my life~!”

“No. I get to. You can’t even provide what they need, something a truly good husband would do.”

“Leo, you do realize that we’re on the same level, right? Either way, none of you can do a decent job of keeping them safe, which is much more important.”

“Look, maybe we shouldn’t compare ourselves because we have different points here. We should have a competition, with Dad as the judge.”

“Fine, but I’m going to beat you all anyway~”

“What ‘Nardo said except it’s going to be me.”

“I’m getting my spot. You guys aren’t true devotées.”

“May the best brother win.”

Since that day, they’ve amped up their flirting to the point it’s glaringly obvious. They’re trying so hard to get you to love them, and for you to let them love you back.

If they win:

Regal Foot Cloth:

He knows it’s in the future, but the thought makes him so gleeful. You’re going to be bound to him for eternity, and you’ll never leave him. I don't know if it's possible, but he gets even more clingy. Gets teddy bears that have wedding attire as a celebration.

Lather Thou Bald Head With Butter:

We all know he's gonna be cocky. It's like that quote from the Zootopia spin-off, "It's not entitlement if I deserve it." If we were to speak his true feelings he's very honored to serve this position now soon (bro is so excited he forgets the time frame).

(I think my grammar was shit but oh well)

Don't Touch My Flipper Floppers:

He's honestly going to doubt it at first. Like he actually won? Sure, he's never worked so hard for a competition before, but it still shocks him. Marks the day on a data table, and starts to count the days until the actual event.

Mad Raccoon Ate My Bees:

Cries. I kid you not, he will cry. Already starts creating art of you guys getting married even if it won't happen for a while. He's definitely designing all the decorations and attire in his works and obnoxiously hangs them everywhere around the lair.

If they lose:

I don't mean for this to get too dark, but with the circumstances, I think it's the only way possible.

Regina:

It depends on who wins. Worst situation, most likely Leo. He first goes into a depressive state before confronting so said turtle for a rematch. Sure the only way to win the competition is based on your feelings, but he's going to try again because he's not going to let you leave his grasp.

Lin-Manuel Miranda:

(His Vivo soundtracks are so great)

Gets into a big fight. He argues and yells with whichever brother, his emotions completely unhinged. He's so upset he won't talk with anyone for a few days...and kidnaps you to a different dimension only he can see you at. He knows that he shouldn't be a bad loser, but he can't help it.

Donald Duck:

Doesn't accept it. He thinks it's odd that you would pick someone else over him. Mind you, he knows all your likes and dislikes so he finds it puzzling why the outcome isn't what he expected. Similar to Raph, he'll be persistent, but if things don't go well, he might lock them into his lab.

Mort Is The Root Word For Death:

Accuses that you got threatened into saying yes. He fully believes you are at no wrong, so the only conclusion he can come to is that someone intervened. Tries to find all evidence that there was wrong in the competition, to the point they might have to restart.

(This was supposed to be a blurb, but there was so much I had to make it a longer piece. I'm still putting it under the blurbs tag tho.)

#blurbs #yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt

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atopcat · 7 months

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Oop your misogyny jumped out

Just because someone is not a rebel, out of control and is a good person doesn’t mean they are a stepford wife

An education would benefit you immensely

wtf are you talking about, I have NEVER called Alicent a Stepford wife because George doesn’t write that kind of woman. What I have criticised is the show’s refusal to highlight her strengths e.g. political intellect and skill.

For 17 years Queen Dowager Alicent of House Hightower had her own political faction, her supporters called themselves The Greens in HER honour not her father or son’s. SHE raised a successful coup against her stepdaughter and had her son crowned King Aegon II of House Targaryen, something SHE planned and set into motion.

What does the show do? Turn her into a pushover who was manipulated by evil men to turn against Rhaenyra. She’s become a feeble innocent who didn’t want to make Aegon king until she misunderstood Viserys’ words. Does that sound like the Alicent Hightower who ran her stepdaughter out of King’s Landing to secure power for her own faction?

Do you know what book!Alicent did when she found out her useless husband died? Left him to rot whilst she and Criston ensured Aegon is crowned. What happens in the show? She’s sobbing over his corpse because women aren’t allowed to be angry, they have to always be forgiving and sad about the men who abused them. Can you imagine if they did this to Cersei when Robert died???

Besides, no one on this show can be categorised as a “good person”, they’re all selfish and want what’s best for themselves. Why can’t Alicent be the same? Why can’t she just say “screw the King’s wishes, I want my son to sit on the Iron Throne”.

Perhaps an education on how the media treats women will benefit you immensely.

#alicent hightower #team green #hotd meta #house of the dragon #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #hotd #anonymous #anti hotd

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sdentii · 7 months

Text

Father and son,, they’re family your honour

#detective conan #detco dogs au #sdentiii creates #they trust each other so much it’s insane #I love seeing them interact aaaa #Conan is out there collecting parental figures #getting himself a sniper father was just a matter of time #anyway #I love them and I need to draw them more #edogawa conan #shuuichi akai #akai shuichi

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raayllum · 1 year

Text

intention vs reception, and breaking the cycle

I think one of the best ways TDP talks about family / cultural dynamics is how things can be taken in ways differently than they were meant to, particularly when it comes to parents and children. Dynamics and interpretations are a two way street, and your reasoning for something may not be something someone else can see, and they’ll make up another reasoning for it on their own end.

We see this pretty specifically with Harrow and Callum.

Harrow puts up a distance because he 1) wants to honour Callum’s possible relationship with his deceased biological father and 2) likely feels guilty over Sarai, and Callum growing up in the shadow of that grief.

H: Over the years, there have been moments where I let there be a distance between us. Because I’m your stepfather, I was trying to give you the space I thought you needed to love your real father, even though he passed away. Now I wonder if I should have held you closer. I wonder if showing you how much I loved you would have been okay, and would not have disrespected your relationship with him. Callum, I know I’m not your birth father, but in my eyes and in my heart, you are my son. I see myself in you. I’m proud of you. And I love you unconditionally.

So we know Harrow had nothing but good intentions, but those moments of distance - of Harrow trying to give Callum more thoughtfulness, not less - led to Callum being insecure and distant over his spot in the family, doubtful that Harrow truly thought of him as his son, exacerbated by Harrow’s royal status that Callum was married into through his mother. This was never Harrow’s intention, but Callum responded to how he was being treated and then conjured up his own reasonings that made sense to him to explain it.

E: Callum, why don’t you just call him Dad? C: Because he’s the king. And I’m his stepson. E: I think he would want you to. If you wanted to.

Their full understanding of each other comes too late, but it’s no less meaningful for Callum. Even if discussing and getting there wasn’t easy.

We see Ezran struggle with this too, of what to take from his father (“I just wish Dad was here - he’d know what to do, y’know?”) as well as what to leave behind (“I don’t want to be that kind of king”). Rayla has a similarly complex relationship with her parents. Is feeling abandoned how Lain and Tiadrin meant to make her feel in Bloodmoon Huntress? Of course not. Was the other side of that when Rayla makes her peace with it supposed to give her this highly dangerous risk taking personality where she’ll go off alone in misguided attempts to protect people? Of course not.

The same way that no matter how angry, Runaan never would’ve wanted her to be Ghosted (he tried multiple times to send her home). He took her off the mission to protect her, not because she was ‘weak.’ The same way that Runaan was the best of his village / culture - a brave and selfless man who wanted to protect his people - and yet could also be cruel and unyielding in the face of innocence that didn’t fit with his preconceived notions. Even the whole “do not show fear” was likely meant to be far more akin to “don’t let fear control you” but as always, cultures are made up of people, and people are flawed and varied in their interpretations, and how they manifest them:

“It’s okay to miss them,” she said gently.

“But it doesn’t do anything.”

“Feelings aren’t about productivity or results,” she said. Maybe a little ironically considering she was a Moonshadow elf, he thought at first, or maybe exactly why, when she finished. “They’re just our responses. Our reactions. We can only control them so much. And Garlaff knows they aren’t always rational, even if they’re what we feel.”

“I thought Moonshadow elves were against letting your emotions rule you.”

“We are,” she said. “Because it’s about controlling how you respond in the wake of your emotions, but we cannot make ourselves totally unfeeling. No matter how much we may wish we could, sometimes.” She smiled sadly. “But we do sometimes work too hard to control how we respond, to the point of shutting them down. Some of us are better at that than others.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” he said, his lips twitching upwards. “I’m engaged to Rayla.”

“Which is why if you can’t control it—if you miss someone, in spite of everything—maybe it’s okay. I’ve seen your fear and aspects of your grief rule you, Callum. I’ve never seen you treat anyone worse for it.”

“Yeah, well...” He turned back towards the window. He thought of losing his temper with Ezran at Katolis, or the Caldera; Rayla at the Nexus after Claudia (a grimace tugged at his mouth) told him about Harrow. “I’m a lot better at that than I was when I was a kid.”

—Chapter 11 of “If Time Is Money,” published March 2020

We see this play out with Lissa and her children in particular, even more than with Viren perhaps. Lissa didn’t mean to give Claudia the trauma she did. She was doing her best to do the right thing by giving her children agency alongside Viren, and then trying to help them stay together. But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t massive harm done anyway.

And it’s these gaps in interpretation and intention versus consequence that make these dynamics real and viable and well, emotionally poignant. We can do massive harm to one another, even when it’s the opposite of our intentions (Viren and Harrow are a fantastic, mutual example of this, and so is Callum and Rayla’s post-TTM fallout).

Because, especially as these child characters grow older, eventually what we do with those interpretations fully become our own actions. None of them have had to go down the roads they have. Yes, our childhood experiences and the choices our parents make effect us, but we also 100% have the power to make different decisions and grow beyond those interpretations. That’s what Breaking the Cycle is all about. But...

E: Because people are still hurting and they are still angry. We can’t ignore that, or pretend it will go away.

And I also think this commonality of difference between intention vs reception, shall we say, is also why Harrow’s advice in regards to how to break the cycle and free yourself from the past emphasizes understanding and imagination.

H: Reject the chains of history. Do not let the past define your future, as I did. Free yourself from the past. Learn from it, understand it, then let it go. Create a brighter future from your own hearts and imaginations.

Over and over, we see characters (mostly antagonists and villains, but not always) insist that things have to go a certain way. We have to do this. I have to do that. This is the way things have always been. We must prevent a terrible future born from apparent weakness.

History - of our families, of our lives, of ourselves, of our communities - demand certain things, and we can be chained down by those things so easily out of obligation, or fear, or guilt, or trying to find some way to feel loved or important. But, in reality

You just have to be willing to imagine something new, that the cycle can be broken, that you can be something else than what you were. You just have to try - and it is never too late to start trying.

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afaramir · 21 days

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elrond and elros and earendil [hamilton voice] and faramir! i must know about this!!!!!

oh man a concept that puts my brain cells in a claw machine… (@sweetshire asked about this one too so ria this is 4 u as well<3) i knew i was gonna be building to this scene the whole time from the moment faramir crossed the borders of rivendell and i hope i executed it well. i locked onto eldritch numenoreans as a concept so intensely and it’s just so important to me that not only are they obviously strange but they LOOK weird as fuck. like no that isn’t quite an elf but they’re DEFINITELY not some normal guy. so faramir sees elrond for the first time and he sees elros, preserved through time. and elrond sees faramir and he sees elros in his face and it breaks his fucking heart! :). and also faramir has dreamt of numenor all his life right. and elros was the first king of numenor...who followed the light of gil-estel the north star to find his promised land...and who carries that star...earendil his father.......YOU KNOW??? it makes me feel crazy. like that is a literal real connection that they all have.

the air seems to shimmer about him as he turns, the light radiating from his very skin, star-like even in the bright sunlight. faramir raises his head, prepares to meet the lord with all the reverence he knows. and then he sees his face, and all his breath leaves him in an instant. he knows this face. has known it all his life, as close to his as any kin. its carven gaze stares down from a hundred statues in minas tirith, and chief of them all the face of the steward, as it had been in faramir’s youth, now so distant of a memory. dark-haired, grey-eyed, noble and kind and true. the echo of a choice made thousands of years ago. elros tar-minyatur brought to life. “my lord elrond,” he says, through a mouth dry as the desert. drops to a knee, overcome. ever since he had stepped past the borders of this land he has walked through his most beloved legends, and yet his mind now cannot believe what he sees. here now is the scion of gil-estel, the one son of that star who will endure past the breaking of the world. and faramir is only the most distant of relations but in this moment he is as númenórean as he has ever been. time and space and the changing of the world separate him from the sons of eärendil, yet all this time he has followed in the footsteps of his greatest forebear, seeking starwards.

this is also very like…dont worry professor tolkien i saw that everyone you think is hot looks exactly like your wife. dont worry i ALSO think they’re hot. u can rest now.gif.

“we remember the first king of númenor, in gondor,” says faramir softly. “there are fewer, now, who know the old tales. but elros tar-minyatur will be last to be forgotten, ere the white city fall and the world end.” a gentle smile blooms across the lord elrond’s face. he does not weep, but in the lines of his face lies a sorrow so large and ancient that faramir can hardly conceive of it. “i do you no more honour than you deserve. i did not think to look to the stewards of gondor, to steward my brother’s memory. now i see that i have long been mistaken. the memory of númenor yet lives on in the men of the south.” “my lord,” is all faramir can think to say. he had not thought he would find so many reminders of home, so far from it, in this land where there truly are none like him. or so he had believed. he will never know tar-minyatur and yet something of that lord of legend lives on in him. when he looks far enough into the grey horizon, into times and futures that have not yet come to pass, there is a part of him that looks through those ancient eyes. the first king of númenor lives on in the streets of gondor, in the quiet of the standing silence, in the tales of the West passed first from his father to himself, and then from him to his men, weaving stories late into the night in the glow of the fire. yet of his brother he knows little, and he is nothing like he had imagined. he had expected distant, remote lordship, not untouchable like a statue but untouchable like a star. gil-estel, after all, shines cold and bright each night over ithilien. to be the immortal scion of the north star - it is a burden that could freeze any heart. yet in the scant time they have stood here, around the lord elrond’s feet, flowers have begun to grow.

its also like an Elrond Learning Moment. the blood of numenor is spent situation at the council in the book versus what i, PERSONALLY, know about the blood of numenor being alive and fucking well is always soooo....elrond i Love You but that was a pretty crazy thing to say. and now here he is realizing and acknowledging and reevaluating his biases. yeah this is my i am fixing something about canon moment. i just think elrond and faramir should Understand Each Other.

#from the inbox #potatoesandsunshine #thank u anna...i have no idea if lotr is ur thing but thank u anyway...i just think that i am. so correct. about this #and i feel like u will appreciate The Profundity Of The Connection. between these guys through time and space.#i love my strange weird son and so does everyon else...#faramir goes to rivendell au

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lee-kangin · 1 month

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it rly is fascinating how so much of football culture is steeped in a precarious upholding of masculinity by the footballers themselves (that is quickly forgotten as soon as men step on the pitch like that is the only place they allow themselves to revere in that connection to other men) and how much of it is to the viewer is pleasing your dad and building a connection with your dad and fixing your relationship with your dad. it’s an undercurrent of the sport, an undercurrent of any sport.

but then couple that with how ange openly talks about his father, how he says that when he looks in the mirror he sees him, how he wishes he could see his success now, how his father wasn’t one to talk very much but was this archetype of a hard worker immigrant who would work all day and then come home and put on the footy, who would take his son to the nearest ground and instil this lifelong devotion into him to the sport. how everything ange does is informed by his father and irrevocably has his fingertips all over it. how the fact that his style of football was something he created in direct response to his father saying football should be entertaining. couple that with how ange places the footballer first, strips them of the myth that they’re expected to be in the modern landscape of the sport and uncovers the man underneath. he places weight on the character of the person instead of their skill as a footballer.

people go into football because they want to please their fathers. they like football because they want to please their fathers. ange postecoglou carved out his own style of football to honour his father, to grieve him through it, to immortalise him in his life’s work.

#sorry like i’m deeply not normal abt ange and his dad and how everything he does is because of and for him #everything he does is so clearly straightforward but the way he does it makes him the myth. the cult hero

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lovetransaction · 9 months

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Here’s a j/d prompt for dadfucker fest: thanks to some handwavey time-travel shenanigans, Dean is transported to John’s USMC unit (maybe they’re the same age or maybe Dean is older) 👀

@dadfuckerfest ; i went with forty-something Dean going back in time to teenage John's military service. warnings i guess: spitting, mild humiliation, power imbalance

- - fragged

Dean hadn't thought it would be so easy. Or: he hadn't thought Dad would be so easy.

But all it had taken was a little bit of medal-polishing, the right fake orders, and rousing a sycophantic staff sergeant from his dirty little hootch to get one Corporal Winchester, J. assigned to drive Lieutenant Campbell from the USMC base at Da Nang to Chu Lai. Not a long drive, not a particularly dangerous one; the real horror was in the villes and the rice paddies, not where the Yankees had laid down heavily-armed claims.

It was hard to stop looking at John. This age, not even twenty yet; long-limbed and a maddening combination of slow when he wanted to be and twitchy when he didn't want to be. It reminded Dean of Sam so much he was almost sick with it, sipping musty warm water from his canteen to stave off the belly-lurches every time John slapped his square-wristed big hands against the Jeep steering wheel or gave him a curious sidelong glance.

"Just go ahead and ask, Corporal," Dean said gruffly after a while. John's mouth opened along one edge in a panting laugh, humid and tense.

"Sir," he said. Dean sipped water. "It's just ... Sarge said that you asked for me specifically. To do this run. There's plenty other drivers in the platoon, sir, ones who outrank me--"

"Son," Dean cut him off, and it was easy, thrillingly sickeningly so to use that word, "what happens if you get ham 'n motherfuckers in your C-rats?"

They whipped through a series of shallow potholes with John wrenching the vehicle to steer them clear, as carelessly rough as he drove when he was Dad. Which meant he'd had time to think of an answer, sounding confident and even tickled when he said, "Exchange 'em with whoever's dumb enough to get pressured into it, sir. Mostly cherries."

Dean mm-hmm'ed in his throat, reaching out to hold the side of the windshield for the bumpy ride. "Well," he said, "you got yours exchanged. You could be back there doing PX or latrine duty. Instead you're here with me. Peaches and poundcake."

John laughed at that, his dogtags jangling as the wheels left the road for a second and they both rose up and then thumped down. Everything was wet and wet-smelling, John was too, and Dean said, "Make a pit stop." John was a good little soldier. He didn't protest. He found a side road that rumbled down into an area with high grass, hidden by trees, killed the engine with a satisfied, nervy bark, and didn't do anything other than open his mouth when Dean strongarmed him against the back of the seat and kissed him.

"You asked for me specifically," John said when they drew apart for air, and Dean gripped his chin, clean-shaven with just the slightest skritch of stubble. John's eyes darkened, fearless. He reached up to hang on to Dean's wrist, just so he could say, "you got nothing to worry about, L-tee."

"Yeah," Dean said, shoving the heel of his other hand along John's belly to feel his breathing quicken, and then grabbing the corporal's already-hard dick, making his lips part in a gasping pant, the sound needy and ... and slutty and Dean tasted warm plastic as he spat into his father's mouth to stop that sound. To get more of that sound. To get something.

"You think I'm worried about me?" Dean purposely didn't think about what he was saying and if it was a mirror held up to his dad or himself; he talked from the gut, whatever came out. "I could get you an other-than-honourable discharge with nothing more than a SPN code."

"Which one?" John asked, wiping his lips. He didn't even really swallow Dean's spit, just let it mingle with his own as he waited for an answer. Dean clenched down on his dad's dick until he whimpered.

"Four six one," he said, looking at the way John's lower lip skidded slightly to the right, softly deformed with pain. "Inadequate personality."

John laughed again, breathless and foxlike, and that made Dean crazy too. Days he'd gone without even an amused harrumph or twitch of a smile out of this man, weeks sometimes, and here the younger version -- humping the boonies in Vietnam with probably jungle rot between his toes and the constant threat of being shelled or shot up -- he'd given up a laugh twice in ten minutes. Over nothing. Over being potentially sold down the river.

"You sound like my dad," was what John said, of all things.

Dean grabbed him by the front of his fatigues, the shirt beaten from wear but stiff with grime; he grabbed it up with one hand and had just enough time to see John's eyes widen slightly before Dean cuffed him in that soft mouth. When his dad gasped and blood and spit came out in a dribble that dripped from his lip and spindled down his chin, Dean didn't know whose spit it was.

"Guessing you don't want head, then," John said, and grinned. He was still slightly grinning when Dean yanked open his fatigue pants and growled, deep and choppy, at the feel of the standard-issue silkies underneath, the same kind his dad was partial to even decades after his tour of duty. He was still slightly grinning, teeth stained yellowish with blood, when Dean started jerking him rough and twisting, crushing the plum head of his father's cock now and again, dragging his thumb hard down the underside. "Holy shit," John gasped, blinking at Dean like he was magic, and he was, in a way, the way that time and a hundred motel rooms had made him.

John came in his son's hand and Dean watched him all through it, the bob of his throat and the way his jaw was only just starting to be sharply defined, and there were no scars on his face at all, so Dean took that handful of cum and slapped it against his father's mouth. John bucked up against the sudden lack of pressure and he kept his hands obediently clutching the jeep seat instead of touching Dean, who dragged his thumbnail down the right side of his dad's face, that clear, unmarked cheekbone. John's face was reddened when Dean dragged his hand over it, smeary with spunk, and he gave a damp, half-cough gasp. He didn't wipe his face when Dean took his hand back and scrubbed it clean against the side of his dad's shirt.

"Why the fuck did you say that?" Dean asked. A mosquito buzzed loud in the shell of his ear and although he wanted to slap it away he ignored it. "About your father."

A shrug, as John scrubbed his face with his sleeve, turned his head and hocked a quick, efficient gob of cum and blood and spit over the side of the vehicle. It caught a broad leaf and gleamed and wobbled there before sliding off. "The only kinds of guys who want this shit either don't have fathers or got fucked up by their fathers," he said, like it was obvious or should be.

"We need to get to Chu Lai," said Dean. John gave a single nod and started the ignition, turning to mark his route as he backed out of the one-way trace and back onto the main road. The Jeep's wheels skidded when they hit wet, cracked asphalt and John wrenched it to point the right direction.

"You don't have a dad, Corporal." Dean was half-hard but he didn't want to touch himself. He gripped the bottom of the windowframe. He could feel John looking at him and didn't return the look.

"Every man who wants this is one of the two," John said again, implacably and expecting to be believed, and Dean's sticky-damp fingertips squeaked on the car door metal. "Even you, sir." Dean looked over and met his father's eyes, familiar and foreign, unwavering. John lifted his chin in a jerk. "So which one is it, Lieutenant?"

Dean tasted warm plastic. He looked away and spat.

#dadfuckerfest #johndean #wincest #john winchester #dean winchester #wrote this real quick and dirty

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gettiregretti · 1 year

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Alex is from a rich family.

He is brought home after Onderon, honourable discharge paid for by his wealthy father and his own suffering at the hands of the partisans. Maksim Kallus is a father who looked down on Alex joining the forces in the first place. And so, he considers it an insult that he has to pay to remove his only son from its grip.

He resents Alex for his weakness; PTSD brings nightmares, panic attacks, and shakes. It’s unbecoming. It’s a family embarrassment.

The Kallus Company get a threat on Alex’s life from an under-level group. The group demand Maksim Kallus remove the K12 Pipeline, claiming that it leaks toxic sludge. It fills lungs with mould. It leads to babies born with hearts too small to support their little bodies.

Maksim dismisses it all as lies, and refuses outright.

Instead, he hires a bodyguard. Out of a spiteful need to beat ‘strength’ into his son, he spots a Lasat during his perusal of potential mercenaries. A Lasat with a long history of battles won in both wars and arenas. Maksim Kallus hires him on the spot.

Alex is disturbed when he meets Zeb. He wants to bolt, but his legs are jelly. He doesn’t want to look like a fool, but the terror is bigger than that. It wraps around him like a noose. He forces himself to withstand it, to grip hard at the table edge until Zeb is dismissed. He has enough strength only to leave his father’s office, and then breaks down alone after stumbling as far away as he can manage.

He refuses to let them see him struggling. Not his father. Not the damned Lasat. He will not allow this reaction to take him again.

—

Zeb looks in surprise at what has him pinned to the wall. It’s a vicious looking paper knife, embedded through Zeb’s munitions strap. It’s impressively close to Zeb’s throat.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Alex says icily, glaring. His hand is still raised from the throw.

Zeb lifts both arms in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, half honest.

“I could kill you.”

Zeb can’t resist it. It’s too much fun messing with that haughty air that Alex has. “With a letter knife?” He probes incredulously.

Alex scowls. “If I have to.” He marches forward, unfaltering, and braces one leg on the wall next to Zeb. They’re close, close enough that Zeb can see the pulse jumping in Alex’s neck.

Alex leans into Zeb’s space and then pauses. With significant force he wrenches the blade from the wall. “So stay in your lane.”

The scent of fear is still there, but it’s starting to settle as Alex forces himself to overcome it. Zeb knows Alex is pretending at power; trying to gain the upper hand with a sense of authority that he’s faking. It kind of works, though. He’s definitely hot when he does it.

Stuck-up, and sexy.

Alex pulls away and spins sharply on his heel. He stabs the knife hard into the desk and sweeps from the room, leaving Zeb to follow awkwardly. Unable to contain himself, Zeb whistles lowly at Alex’s back.

He is coldly ignored.

#kalluzeb #honourable discharge au #i find these fun ideas I’ve apparently jotted down in the past #then I’m mad they don’t exist and I have to write them #i just love the idea of fucked up rich boy Kallus learning to trust his big bad flirtatious bodyguard #i guess this means he never goes to Lasan?#if the empire covered up the genocide there maybe Kallus doesn’t even know why Zeb left home or what he’s running from #he can really put his foot in it that way #then they can BOND

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