#Fanfic: Pity the Country | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 3 months

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because I'm in the mood for Pain could i request a nikolai fanfic with a grisha reader. they were childhood friends, but then one day reader was captured by fjerda and after they find the cure for parem they come back to ravka and don't think they're good enough for nikolai because they were too weak to resist the drug. i hope you're having a lovely day!

'only in my dreams ' - nikolai lantsov

masterlist

There’s an old saying, one that’s been tossed around by generations of practitioners of the Small Science and otkazat’sya alike, one that you’ve heard since you were small and keep hearing as you get older. There’s no good place to be a Grisha. It’s been used as a weapon and an assurance at times, a claim that you don’t belong and a reminder that life doesn’t really get better, so you might as well enjoy who you are wherever you are.

Right now, though, it just feels all too real. When you were a child growing up in the middle of nowhere in the Ravkan countryside, no one trusted a Grisha. When you were brought to Os Alta to train in the Little Palace, the glimmering city didn’t feel like a home either, just a place where you would be brought up to fight in someone else’s wars. You could go anywhere you want, but it would never quite be enough. You find your home in people you trust, but no place will ever want a witch.

And, rotting in a Fjerdan cell, you think it’s especially true now. You pity the Grisha who were born in Fjerda, and wonder how they would have managed to grow up in a country whose own army was dedicated to the cause of hunting them down. It wasn’t all that great to grow up empowered in Ravka, either, but at least there was somewhere for you to go once you were discovered, and that was the Little Palace. In Fjerda, the only place that newly discovered Grisha go is the grave.

That, or the cells, and right now you’re wishing that you were six feet under instead of here right now. Other than wanting them dead, the Fjerdan government seems fascinated by just how Grisha work. They’ve managed to get their hands on jurda parem, and you’re a part of their latest batch of test subjects.

You last received the drug a few days ago, and already the debilitating ache of withdrawal is starting to press against your bones, tearing against your sinews and skin until all you can think of is when you last had it and where you could get some more. The Fjerdan scientists are single-minded in their approach to treating Grisha with parem; exact doses are carefully measured out and only delivered in the precise windows of time that they desire. Once medicated, the captive Grisha will have their hands unchained for slim opportunities to practice their gift, most likely to build or destroy or torture other captives as directed by the Fjerdan guards.

Eventually, the parem will wear off, and then you’ll be back to where you are right now: curled into a corner of your freezing cell, desperate for warmth or parem or anything more than this heavy, never-ending horror.

You used to be more than this, you know. You used to be a proper Grisha, one who could never imagine themselves as you are now, exhausted and starving and addicted to a drug no one even knew existed until just a short time ago. You had been brought to Os Alta when you were quite young, so for the most part, the Little Palace was the only life you had ever really known.

And what a life it had been; your mind drained by the constant tests of parem, you slip into a dreamy half-sleep, letting the memories cloud your consciousness so you don’t have to think about whatever horrors await you.

Os Alta had been beautiful. Ravka has been a struggling country for quite some time, and will likely go on eking out its days one by one for quite some time, but the royal family spared no expense on its capital city. Even the Little Palace, the smaller and humbler variant of the Grand Palace, was intricate and masterful, a testament to the artistic prowess of the Ravkan people when its creators went long enough without hunger pangs to focus on their craft.

You can almost imagine you’re there if you close your eyes. The sensations come back to you as if in a dream: the rustle of your kefta as you walk, the smooth edges of the cobblestones where they’d been worn down by hundreds of feet, the sharp voices of your tutors, the thrill in your veins as you used your powers. You can still remember when it had been a joyous thing to use your powers uncorrupted by parem. Now, every tug to the making at the heart of the world feels like a betrayal of your own people, a sick and terrible thing that should not be practiced by any living thing.

You turn your mind away from that harsh reality, opting instead to remember the good days, the golden memories when the worst thing you could imagine was doing badly in one of Botkin’s training sessions. Since you’d been at the Little Palace since you were small, you had plenty of friends across the branches of the Small Science, plus one extra boy whose eyes used to shine like sunlight off of the True Sea. He wasn’t a Grisha though. He was–

He was a prince.

Nikolai Lantsov wasn’t supposed to visit the Little Palace. Truth be told, he wasn’t supposed to leave the Grand Palace at all except when instructed by the king and queen or one of his tutors. However, the young prince didn’t seem to care for rules, and rare was the day when he wasn’t sneaking off to pass days by his own volition. More often than not, his errant path brought Nikolai to you.

The two of you had been friends for years. Never mind the fact that a friendship between a Grisha and a prince would be strictly forbidden, no one ever caught on and the two of you were quite obliged to keep it that way. Nikolai was brilliant in mind and spirit. When you think about the happiest you’d ever been, the days you wished could stretch on forever, it’s the time you spent with Nikolai that was the best of all. Sometimes, you snuck him an extra kefta and the two of you would explore the Little Palace, or you’d run around the countryside surrounding Os Alta. You’d swap stories and little trinkets or gifts, and you’d smile like everything was alright, because when you were with Nikolai, it was.

Then he got older, and you did too. Nikolai stopped being able to visit you as often. You grew through the ranks of the Grisha, and were sent on missions with increasing frequency. Sometimes, you’d be away from Os Alta for months at a time, and only come back to find out that Nikolai had just left on a similar errand. Your paths started diverging, and even though every time you saw him, it was like the days hadn’t passed at all, both of you had growing up to do, and unfortunately, that didn’t involve each other.

You still held out hope that maybe he would become king and find a way to loop you back into his busy days. Just recently, he had returned from his years at school (and, as the rumor has it, at sea), and you had hoped that maybe you’d be able to spend more time together. All you had was one more mission, then you’d be back in Ravka for many months. Surely you could use that time.

The Fates didn’t seem keen on that happy of an ending for you, however. Your mission went awry. Fjerdans intercepted your group. You distracted the enemy soldiers long enough for the rest of your party to get away, but you were captured and brought back to Fjerda. You had assumed you’d be killed, but instead, you were sent to their experimental division and given your first dose of parem.

So the angels fall. Now, the idea that you could be remotely close to a prince’s best friend is laughable. If you could see him now, you have no doubt that he would still be the same golden, glorious boy he had always been, now imbued with the confidence of years wearing the crown. By contrast, you are huddled in a cell, your powers harshly amplified by the corrupting influence of jurda parem.

No, Nikolai Lantsov certainly wouldn’t want you now. The only way you can have him still is in your dreams, those beautiful fragments of imagination in which both of you are still young and blameless. He hasn’t fled Os Alta for a false name and a life at sea. You haven’t been captured and forced to undergo cruel tests. Both of you are happy and whole, and nothing bad has ever happened to either of you. What a dream indeed.

A dream, but dreams are all you have. The dream of being back with Nikolai is a good one. So, too, is the dream that someone will come to take you out of this place. You’ve had this one many times before, and it slips over you like sleep. It would happen quickly, the break-out. The Fjerdan guards would shout in surprise, then be quickly silenced. You’d hear the rattle of fast footsteps, and the door to your cell would fly open. All doors would be open, and all Grisha would live. You’d run far away, to a place that would finally want you again. All would be well.

You’re comfortable with it, not bothering to open your eyes lest you lose track of the dream. Only– maybe the parem is still lingering in your system, because you swear the faux sounds of fighters are louder than they usually are in the dreams. It’s not real, but the shouts do seem real, don’t they?

It’s not real. After all, parem has a way of messing with your mind. Many times during your captivity, you’ve thought you’d seen someone from home only to realize differently during the cloudiness of withdrawal. This is the same as that.

However, when the door to your cell clangs open, you feel the reverberations through your skin and bones, something that never happens when the Fjerdans come to get you. Your eyelids fly open and you scramble back against the wall, watching with terrified eyes as soldiers hurry to you. One’s in Ravkan fatigues, but the other is a Healer in a red kefta.

“You’re not real,” you grit out, teeth pressed together.

She shakes her head sympathetically. “I am, my friend. We’ve broken you out at last. Here, I have the cure.”

She holds out a syringe pre-loaded with some sort of substance. You snap back when you see it, too familiar with Fjerdan tricks of trying to inject you with different medicines. “Don’t you dare get that near me. I know what you do.”

The Healer jerks her chin towards you. “Hold her,” she says to the soldier.

You scream, a high, drawn-out sound, and do your best to fight, but your captivity has left you frail, and he’s able to subdue you after minor effort. The Healer pushes the needle into your veins, and you wait for something terrible to happen, another grievous experiment to begin in your body, but the strangest thing happens: you feel better.

You stare up at the Healer. Your mind feels clearer than it has in days, and, impossibly, you can feel your strength returning. “What is that?”

“A cure to jurda parem,” the Healer tells you. “Sincerest apologies that it’s taken this long to get to you.”

You’re guided out into the corridor, where you join the former occupants of the surrounding cells. All of you regard your rescuers and each other with the same incredulity and faint excitement. Is this really it? Are you finally out?

The ride back to Ravka should be long, but it feels as if it’s over in the blink of an eye. Several times, the rescue party stops at safe houses along the way, giving all of you opportunities to wash up, get new, warm clothes, and eat and drink to fix the gnaw of hunger that clings to all of you. By the time the gates of Os Alta swing wide to admit you, you’re almost feeling normal again.

Almost.

The torment of your time in the Fjerdan cells will stick with you forever, and the awful memories of what it had been like to be under the influence of jurda parem. However, the Healer’s cure worked well. When you try to use your abilities, they work the same as they had before the awful drug was first administered to you. By all accounts, you’re back to normal, even if your mind doesn’t entirely feel that way.

The driver calls to your group that you’ll be arriving outside the Little Palace shortly. “King Nikolai will be there to greet you,” he announces over his shoulder.

Excited whispers surround this, and you can’t help but listen in intently. “Nikolai Lantsov will be there?” One girl giggles by your side.

Another smiles in encouragement. “They say he’s been observing each coach that brings back rescued Grisha from Fjerda. It’s like he’s looking for someone. Maybe an old friend?”

You feel your stomach chill, the warm delight of rescue starting to cool off again. You have no doubt that you’re the one Nikolai is looking for; he had told you many times that you were his favorite Grisha by far, even when he was briefly engaged to the Sun Summoner for purely political reasons, but you find yourself hoping he doesn’t find you when you get out of your coach.

It’s not that you don’t want to see him, you do– the idea of being with Nikolai again had sustained you through your time in the Fjerdan cells better even than food or drink, but the fact remains that you are no longer as you were in your memories. You are no longer someone that a king would care to see. More so than just your weakened frame, your disorganized mind– you were captured on a mission, and you succumbed to jurda parem. In the back of your mind, a cruel voice whispers, pathetic. Nikolai will be spending his time with the finest diplomats, the noblest princes and princesses. He will not want a Grisha who could not hold out against a drug.

You gather your borrowed cloak about you, pulling the hood down over your face. It’s a size or two too large for you, by virtue of it belonging to someone else, and right now you’re glad for the extra fabric to disguise you. Nikolai is looking for a ghost, and probably out of necessity. He’ll likely be relieved that he won’t have to handle you like a difficult situation.

The coach pulls to a stop. Many rescued Grisha are crammed inside, so you blend into the crowd as you all pour out. Other Grisha from the Fjerdan prison are there already. It’s easy to slip amongst their ranks, keeping your head down. Nikolai is there in front of you as promised. His head is tilted up slightly, his gaze sweeping row after row of visitors. Maybe he isn’t even looking for you at all.

Then, his eyes catch yours briefly. Immediately, you look away, and start backing through the crowds again, trying to lose his gaze. When you feel it’s safe to look again, you breathe out quiet relief when you notice that he’s still scanning the crowd where you had been. Lost him. It’s a victory, but it’s an awful pain nonetheless.

Once everyone has arrived, Nikolai says a few kind words about how he’s glad everyone has returned home and how apologetic he is about the time it took to get you all back. No one seems to hold it against him, though, and how could you? He rescued you in the end, and managed to get you the cure to jurda parem to boot. It’s a fine success if you’ve ever seen one.

Nikolai releases you to the Little Palace to rest. Grisha stream past Nikolai, but he doesn’t stop to talk to any of them, looking again for someone. For you, maybe. You pull the hood down low again. If you move quickly, maybe he’ll miss you. You give him a wide berth, keeping your eyes low. You’ve almost made it to the edge of the courtyard when you feel a hand rest on your arm, carefully pulling you to a stop.

You don’t look up, not at first. You don’t have to look to know who it is. You’ve known Nikolai for years. You would know how he walks, the precise pattern of his boots against the cobblestones. You would know how the breath hitches in his throat when you’re reunited after too long a separation. You would know how his hand feels on you. You’ve dreamed of it a thousand times, but this isn’t a dream anymore, this is real.

“Excuse me, moi tsar,” you whisper. Maybe he doesn’t know it’s you yet. Maybe you can still escape with your dignity intact.

Any hope you had of avoiding recognition vanishes in an instant when Nikolai murmurs, “Y/N,” in such a desperate voice that you feel you could hardly move if you tried.

You stand still. A strong wind could blow you over, maybe. You watch the ground as Nikolai’s boots cross the ground to stand in front of you. His other hand rises to brush your hood back from your face. A gasp is ripped from his lungs as he takes in the sight of you.

“I look that bad, then, do I?” You can’t help but laugh quietly. It’s a bitter sound. You used to sound happier when you laughed with him, you think. A lot has changed.

Nikolai’s hand leaves your hood, drifting to your face. He raises your chin with a soft finger until you’re looking him in the eyes again. “Not to me,” he says, voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

A quiet scoff escapes you. “I have been a prisoner of Fjerda for months, moi tsar. I doubt that was conducive to beauty.”

“You’d be surprised,” he tells you. Then, a bit more insistent, “You don’t need to refer to me with a title, Y/N. You didn’t when we were little.”

“I didn’t know better,” you say. It’s not quite true, and he knows it.

“Don’t say that,” Nikolai pleads. “We were friends, excellent friends. Now we’re older and you’re avoiding me. Why?”

You look away again. “Don’t ask me that,” you say with a laugh. You meant it to be a joke, but it comes out as a plea.

“I will,” he insists. “I have always been stubborn, you know that about me. Stubborn enough to search every single Fjerdan prison my spies could find when you went missing. Stubborn enough to stand here and wait in the cold until I could find you. And certainly stubborn enough to wait here with you until you tell me why I’m no longer good enough for you.”

This, at last, is enough to make your eyes fly to him. “That’s not true,” you insist hotly. “Quite the opposite, in fact. You’re a king and I’m a Grisha. And a Grisha that couldn’t even withstand jurda parem, to be specific. Saints, you win wars and I lost the first one that ever came to me. If there is anyone that has ever been insufficient, it would be me.”

The hand on your arm slips down to your fingers, and Nikolai squeezes once, twice. A heartbeat. A prayer. “You have never been insufficient to me,” he tells you. You make some sound of disagreement and he repeats it, insistent as ever. “No, you listen. You aren’t. Jurda parem is notorious for the pain it causes. You think you lost the war? The fact that you’re still alive in front of me tells me that you won it. Every day since you went missing, I woke up and went to bed terrified that you were dead and I would never know. I need you, sweetheart, and I need you to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

You stay quiet for a while, letting the words turn over in your mind, then, impulsively, you ask, “Sweetheart?”

He grins, easy as always. “It fits you. Don’t argue with me, I’ve had plenty of arguments prepared to convince you otherwise.”

You laugh, and this time, it’s real. “I wouldn’t dare, then. I just would have thought that you’d have plenty of princesses who would have won that nickname for real by now.”

Unable to stop yourself, you cast a glance towards his left hand. No ring. When you look back up at Nikolai, he’s beaming. “No queen for me, I’m afraid. I was waiting for mine to return from captivity.”

You roll your eyes. “Still haven’t given up on that, have you? I seem to remember you trying and failing to convince me to marry you since we were six.”

Nikolai grins, slipping your arm inside his so he can guide you back to the Little Palace. “I will never give up. Not until you say yes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in mock disbelief. It’s been a while since you saw him. It’s been a while since he asked. If he were to do it again, you think you might have a different answer than when you were both so small.

Nikolai turns to look at you, his eyes shining. He’s always had a gift for knowing what’s on your mind, and judging by the light in his smile, you think he’s predicted your thoughts yet again. He’s got some time before he attempts another proposal. This time, though, he’ll have a better outcome than before.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @aoi-targaryen, @budugu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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sleeplessdreamer123 · 1 year

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Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, where Aemond got lost in sea)

Lucerys had managed to fight off the vultures swarming around him for five years. Unfortunately, his time is almost up. Even his mother, his queen, began telling him to remarry, and he is out of excuses.

It was easy the first year, after they declared that his husband, Aemond, officially dead after losing contact with him and Vhagar for so long. A funeral was held, a pyre was built and burned without a body, and Lucerys was officially declared a widow. Lucerys was five moons pregnant at that time, and the entire kingdom felt pity for the pregnant omega, their Pearl of the Seven Seas, the Second Realm's Delight. The queen gave him a year and a half of mourning, the longest mourning a noble ever had.

When he gave birth, it was said to have taken two whole days of labor before the poor boy finally managed to push out two babes, both boys. One that looked entirely like him, the other looking entirely like his father. It was a joyful occasion amidst Lucerys' mourning, and his entire family visited to check up on him and marvel at the babes.

He has continued to keep rule over Driftmark with the help of his grandmother Rhaenys, and it was said that he was the perfect mixture of both Corlys and Rhaenys, though many still question his abilities. How unfortunate that he was an omega, for the pressure to be perfect doubled with every large task he managed to complete flawlessly, though many nitpicked at anything they could. They wouldn't have acted like this had Aemond been there, but now that he was gone, they let loose their tongues and forgot their place. Lucerys says nothing, allowing the smooth operations of the Velaryon fleet and the thriving Driftmark to speak for him.

It was nearing the end of his mourning, when these vultures began to circle him. Letters sent by noble families, portraits of bachelors, sly remarks during meetings about a possible celebration that could help "better" his situation.

Lucerys never wished to marry anyone else, and despite everything, he truly believed that Aemond was alive, and that he would return soon. So he stalled.

He went to his mother and told her about how he wished to focus on his boys, to bond with them and enjoy their first years together, without needing to focus on searching for a new husband, because that wound of losing his husband, though not fresh, still hurts his heart, and he believes that bonding with them could lessen the sting. His mother had always had a soft spot for him, so she agreed easily, and word was sent to not bother her son, who wished for peace with his children.

It took another one and a half years, before they began to try circling him again. His children are almost three now, surely he has bonded with them enough? Surely the throbbing pain of his wound is no longer there? Surely, surely he would like to entertain the idea of a new marriage now?

The answer was no. No he did not.

He evaded yet again, stating that he and his sons were to travel the seas, for them to open their eyes to the world, and for him to make friends from different countries and exchange trades (and hopefully find out what happened to his husband, wherever he is). He left the ruling of Driftmark to Rhaenys. He managed to travel for almost an entire year, helping boost the trades of Westeros and filled the Driftmark coffers(and still he couldn't find anything about his missing husband).

By now his mother, and even his husband's mother, began asking about his plans to remarry. And Lucerys' excuses were dwindling, even Rhaenys (the traitor!) began stating that because of his earlier successes, he does have time to look for a new husband.

If he were an alpha, they would have left him alone. He had an heir, and a spare, though doesn't call his sons that. He didn't need to marry again, yet the alphas grow more ambitious, especially after seeing how rich Driftmark was becoming. A beautiful omega, a powerful and wealthy land, and, since they were to be married, a chance to rule over a powerful fleet? These alphas were absolutely itching to have him.

Lucerys finally decided to take a different approach. He agreed to search for a new husband, but he has certain requirements. The first being that the person needs to at least be close to his age, the second being that this person needed to be of noble birth and knighted, the third was that he needed to suit his preferences, and the fourth would be that his sons would approve of them. They all sounded quite reasonable, and thousands were ready to swarm Driftmark like the blood sucking mosquitoes they were, only to be told that Lucerys would only meet with one suitable suitor every 30 days for one whole afternoon.

In that one afternoon, they needed to prove themselves to Lucerys that they were worthy to marry the most powerful omega in Westeros.

Before this, they have never personally met Lucerys, only being able to look at him from a distance. They thought it would be easy to seduce him, they thought all they needed to do was to compliment him a few times, pat the children's shoulder's and marry him by noon.

They were dead wrong.

The first nobles that tried to woo Lucerys quickly realized how unprepared they were. The meeting place wasn't in some garden in Driftmark were they could set the mood. No, it was in the meeting room, with three other people, one being The Queen that Never Was, Rhaenys, the second being the head merchant of Driftmark, and the third being the head captain of the Velaryon fleet.

Lucerys began speaking, not in common tongue, but in High Valyrian. In their confusion, they could not answer, he switched to common tongue with a sigh.

A shame, he would say. I prefer alphas who knows how to speak my language.

Then they would begin in that negative note, though it became increasingly clear it was less of a meeting of an alpha wooing an omega and more of a subordinate answering questions of their superior. These alphas have never been treated this way, nor have they ever felt so out of place, especially by an omega they were pursuing.

And the questions weren't even about the alpha or how they were the perfect match for Lucerys. These questions were about tradings and the fleets and what should you do if this problem were to arise? Some tried to answer the questions, but every time they did, more questions came from all three, with Rhaenys watching silently. Some alphas would get tired by the grilling, some raged when their suggestions were found lacking, some couldn't even answer at all. By the time it was over, they would send the alpha away, telling them that if he would like to try again, he should write a letter to declare so.

Some complained, but were quickly shut down. They needed to realize that they weren't just marrying an omega. They were marrying the duties and responsibilities of Driftmark, and so far, none of them were even close to the standard Lucerys preferred. Lucerys prefers a capable alpha, a partner he could lean on if need be, not one that would undermine him, not one that would buckle under the pressure, and certainly not one who can't even solve a problem he had to face every single day.

And so on and so forth, Lucerys kept himself single for 5 years in total, his hope for his husband's return dwindling, turning into irritations, sometimes even hate. How dare Aemond leave him in this situation? How dare his husband leave and not come back? Where was he? What was taking so long?

Soon, his mother intervened after hundreds of letters asking her to please ask your stubborn son to marry someone already.

And just when Lucerys was considering that maybe it was time to let go of Aemond and actually choose between these alphas, an unknown dragon landed in Driftmark carrying one Aemond Targaryen.

------------

*Escaping the time out corner to post this. You may or may not see this as an apology for the death of Arrax the goat (and the dragon)

There will be a part 2 with this one, but what do you think of it so far?

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #alpha aemond #omega lucerys #lord of the tides Lucerys #married lucemond

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lilolilyr · 16 days

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I have an idea for an Andromaquynh modern AU fanfic

In it, Quynh moves back home to her parents after getting a degree at university she isn't really sure she can or wants to use. She used to think that she's a city girl despising the suburbs she grew up in, but now she thinks she was wrong about that or maybe her preferences changed, she doesn't much like the cities she studied in anymore, first she thinks it's because she studied abroad (in the countries of her ancestors) and could never quite connect to the culture there, but visiting a friend in a city in her home country shows her it isn't just that, she just prefers a quieter environment

In the meantime, her parents have moved to a different part of town and it doesn't really feel like coming home at all. Quynh still struggles with her place in life, she doesn't want to hang around on her parents' couch doing nothing forever but she doesn't know what else to do either and the thought of a regular 9-5 job in an office terrifies her, she has done enough internships in that kind of environment to know she can't stand it for long

Quynh starts taking long walks through the countryside, for her health because she hasn't really found any sports/active hobbies in the area yet (that's an aspect she really liked about the cities, there's always something interesting going on, she used to dance and try out things like shooting with bow&arrow and axe throwing), and to have quiet time to think away from her family. That way she gets to know the area quite well - she actually already knows it a bit because she really didn't live far away as a kid, but she never really walked through the fields on this side of the suburbs before

On her walks she sometimes comes across equestrians, and one time a horse throws off its rider and she ends up catching the animal, which doesn't seem to mind people in general just people trying to climb and sit on it - it won't stay the last time she comes across that particular animal, and she thinks she understands the horse quite well what with not wanting to do jobs they don't like just to be allowed to live comfortably.

Andy's the owner of the horse riding school, and when a girl falls off her horse (probably the one that doesn't much like its riders, Quynh calls it Big Guy lovingly not knowing what it's actually called) and needs medical attention, Quynh ends up taking the horse back to the stables and meets Andy there.

There's a bit of an age-gap between them and even once they meet and fall in love Andy is reluctant to commit to Quynh out of fear of tying Quynh to a life she might not really want, meanwhile Quynh is finally figuring out her place in life and she wants to stay with Andy.

I'll probably never write the full fanfic, I just don't have the time and motivation for it. If anyone's interested in getting the draft and adopting it, I'd love to hand it over for you to write it!

Post is okay to reblog :)

The draft I have is pretty much in bullet points atm, but I'd even go over it and clean it up a bit if someone's really interested in adopting the fic, and I'd be open to either chatting about it and giving more input, or you taking it and doing your own thing with it!

I don't have the time to write a longfic atm and I feel like what with the plot I'm thinking of, it really needs to be 10 or even 20k minimum to start doing it justice... That being said if sb wants to try writing a shorter version or is inspired by it to write anything similar, absolutely feel free! Just pls lmk once it's done so I can read it :D

I also already wrote a college AU horse girl!Andy longfic before, and while that one was happier and this one would probably have quite some angsty vibes before reaching its happy ending, it still kind of feels like I've done this before, also reducing my motivation for it even more :( which is a pity really because I do really like the idea.

If you want to take on the story reply to this or send me an ask/dm and we can figure out how to do this, discord/email/docs or whatever :)

My tog tag list - I know it's been ages, if anyone wants off this list or if someone new wants on it, please let me know! -: @bobeau-beaubo @lesbianlotties (daniwouldnever) @ongreenergrasses @eyeh0rr0r @cantteachanoldguardnewquotes @badwolfkaily @andramaquynhs @depresbianintheclassicalsense @andy-the-scythian @cryhardanddanceharder @my-gaydar-is-on-point @spookyvoidangelskeleton @bookerandy @jackwolfskid @cinnamonplums @cruzwalters @kayivy @blacks-phoenix @binariesarebullshit @tea-lizzard @prevalent-masters @aftermillennia @youssefguedira (pierremichelofavignon) @salzundhonig @moonlightbuckley @genyathefirebird (rupzydaisy) @nickydestati @after-a-millennium @spacewitchqueen @damnbert @not-so-good-omen (innocent-gayngel) @rhubarbdreams-blog @bedalk

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thethirdromana · 1 year

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Something I find interesting about Deep Space Nine is how little it tells the story of Bajor, especially after season 3 or so.

The pilot set up a show in which Bajor could have been central - specifically, the post-colonial story of the planet and its people working out how to recover from the Occupation and govern themselves. And sometimes the series returns to the same themes, particularly in Accession (the one that moots the return of Bajor's pre-colonial caste system), The Circle three-parter (the one with the attempted coup against the provisional governors) and Shakaar (the one with the soil reclamators). We also get some sense of what's happening through Kai Winn's appearances.

All the same, it doesn't feel like the story of Bajor is even really a B-plot most of the time, it's just something we check in on every so often (frequently through the lens of Kira's boyfriends). The series does feel interested in Bajoran religion, but usually through the vehicle of Sisko as the Emissary, so it's detached from Bajor itself. When we do get Bajoran politics, it's mostly about the specific relationship between Bajor and the Federation. And though I haven't counted up episodes, it feels to me like we get way more about Cardassian politics than Bajoran ones.

I'm trying to write this in a neutral way because I love the story that the series did decide to tell, but I can't help but feel it's a pity we didn't get learn more about Bajoran daily life and politics.

E.g. how much of their original political system was still extant? Did they have to rebuild it? Were there tensions about what form that should take?

Did the Cardassian retreat leave skills shortages? Was Bajor able to create a civil service from nothing? Or were there Bajorans employed by the Cardassians who were allowed to stay in their previous roles? Were those people still trusted?

How about culture? Was there a deliberate attempt to de-Cardassianise Bajor? Accession is fascinating from this perspective, but were there any other cultural practices from Bajor's past that they wanted back - or didn't?

And how about Bajor's economy, in the transition from Cardassian exploitation to an economy run for the benefit of Bajorans? A lot of countries, even decades after colonialism, continue to focus on the industries that colonisers prioritised (for good reason) - how does that work when Bajor is increasingly exposed to post-scarcity economies?

I think the thing I want is the kind of filling out of the backstory of Bajor that A Stitch in Time and The Never-Ending Sacrifice provided for Cardassia. Maybe it already exists in one of the many tie-in novels or longer fanfics and I just need to find it?

#star trek #deep space nine #ds9 #musings on bajor

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villainsimpqueen · 1 month

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Eternal Bloodlines

Adriana tepes/ Alucard x Male Dhampire reader

This fanfic is for 18+ Audience's due to it containing gorey themes and later on smut.

Also available on A03

chapter 7

Alucard watched as you and Sypha left him with the Belmont. Both vanishing in the alleyways.

"Eat shit and die." Trevor said suddenly.

"Yes, Fuck you." Alucard snapped back glancing back over to the human man. There was a pause before both of them started chuckling at their immaturity, indirectly proving the speaker woman correct.

"What is it like?" Trevor asked suddenly, his eyes moving to the door where you and Sypha had vanished from.

"Meeting another exactly like you?"

Alucard paused thinking over it.

"We are nothing alike." He states before leaning back on the boxes he was sitting on top of.

"We may both be dhampires, but in all similarities that is where it ends. Though it is strange, I'm sure if there was another one my father would have known and would most likely have met us in my younger years. He is Nordic and my father has one general from that area, strange that he has never mentioned about a nordic dhampir who is slightly older than me." He explains to the monster hunt watching. How Trevor's face contorts as he thinks.

"Perhaps the guy was hidden away from even the general eye." He answers, it was a good answer, a logical one.

He could accept and answer like that.

"So he clearly drank from humans, what about you?" The hunter asks and Alucard frowns,

Yes, that brings up your diet habits.

You went with Sypha to activate pressure blood, even if it was animal blood, but your threat was clear.

It was animals or humans, either way you were going to feast on blood regardless.

"I do not drink. Never human, mostly pig or sheep. I never was allowed to form such habits." He answers. Another difference between you and Him.

He didn't need blood unless it was to heal serious injuries. His parents never allowed him to get addicted to the taste of blood, having him gain most of his nutritional values from human meals and the occasional glass of animal blood his father extracted.

But never a human, it was disrespectful towards his mother.

But despite him never having a taste of human blood didnt mean he didn't have instincts too. The current sound of blood rushing through the human man just a mere few feet away from him made his fangs tingle. Made his mouth water more and more with each heartbeat he could hear from trevors chest.

Instincts that always were so tempting but he never allowed them to consume him.

Instincts that you seemed glad to indulge, glad to participate in your vampiric hunger.

'Unless you want some poor village getting pillaged due to my hunger?'

So did you teach yourself to sink your fangs into animals instead of humans? From what he had remembered from the few balls and gatherings his father had with generals where he was allowed to participate in with his mother, The Vampires tended to see humans as nothing more than livestock.

You were half human like himself, but you clearly were raised more into Vampire culture and of course in a whole other country, lands and cultures that differed than Wallachians.

Did you seek to change your feeding habits yourself? Or did your human mother help you? You had said she should have chosen death instead of being your mother, so did you have to watch her suffer at the hands of your vampire father? Did you take pity on her and started eating animals due to it?

But that mustn't be the case if you threatened to slaughter a village to feed. So you must still feed on humans , maybe not as a sole food resource like the other vampires did.

Alucard hated how curious he was, how badly he wanted to ask you what Human blood tastes like, if it was more pleasant than the simple smells of it, the soothing sound of it being pumped through a human's body.

So it's mr.shirtless I gotta keep an eye on them." Trevor says with a scoff before sparing him a glance.

"How exactly are we going to kill Dracula? Do you even know where the castle is?"

Important questions that deserved answers, ones he did not have or know how to answer.

"Or is this some sort of suicidal pack?"

Alucard meets the hunters eyes.

"Well." He answers the hunter and he can see the storm in the belmonts eyes.

He looked as if he was going to say something but it fell when the voice of the speaker soon echoed from outside of the house and once she entered. She was complaining about something you did, and He learns it was handing her a jug of blood when she asked you what it tasted like.

He caught the smell of sea salt and something else making his eyes snap towards the door, the sun bright behind you making the red highlights of your h/c hair gleam as bright as the crimson stained on your lips. Like the brightest of sunsets right before nightfall took over all the lands bathing it in its darkness for the creatures of night to awake by.

He knew by vampire standards staring was challenging, provoking, but his eyes stayed glued to you as you licked your lips, your tongue moving over the crimson on your fangs.

He felt his own fangs tingle more and more at the sight of the red liquid being licked away.

He soon felt your cold glare snapping to him, how your eyes had a slight gleam to them as you refused to back down. It was him who looked away, he didn't necessarily need to, but it was best to prevent a fight, as the tension grew thicker into the air.

He watched you soon move back, seeming to brighten up some when you saw a horse trot towards you.

"You both don't need to be so Rude." Sypha scolded them but Alucard looked away.

"How do you reckon we make it through this alive?" Trevor questioned instead, changing the subject back on topic.

"I am not sure that will be a possibility. Two humans and Two Dhampires against my fathers army.." He spoke.

"I never said i was throwing my life away to kill some mad man." Your voice cut through the conversation and it caused all three of them to look at you. You were leaning against your horse's shoulder as you eyed them.

"But..You went to look for the soldier." Sypha spoke up, seeming surprised at what you had said. You merely shrugged and then motioned your hand towards him.

"And he is found. And is nothing but the half breed of said mad man." You said your words so bluntly..

"You don't have to be an ass." Trevor sneered at you and your eyes barely even narrowed as you looked at them all.

"I ain't. The speakers made it sound that the so-called soldier was like an angel, he's not. A half breed vampire who was put in those catacombs by his mad father. And now he's expecting that a piss smelling monster hunter with an old and fraying whip, a speaker woman who has never traveled from her family's caravan and only fighting experience with magic is what? Barely a few months? and another half breed is going to give up their lives for them to barely get five steps into the castle and be shredded to death in less than two seconds." You explained your reasoning as you stared at them and you shook your head.

"But you can fight" Sypha speaks up, the two men looked at her before focusing on you.

"Back in the forest, I saw you take out those night creatures by yourself before I could send flames over to your aid. With your help we could make it through, we could actually kill Dracula." She sounded so confident, so sure of herself. There was something else, how she looked at you that didn't make sense to him yet.

You shook your head.

"Nah…I'm not getting myself killed for that…Besides I have people, people who raised me since i was a lad in there, a suicidal death is unworthy of betraying them."

Trevor and Sypha stared at you in disbelief but Alucard could understand. You had family in his fathers castle, vampires that you were closer to than any one of them. To ask you to betray your people over strangers was unfair and unrealistic to ask.

Yet asking you to betray them to save all of humanity? Was that too much to ask? Alucard did not know how to ask you to turn your back on everything you knew. To turn against your own people, your own parent.

"You said you would keep me safe." Sypha spoke softly and your eyes moved to her.

"I did. You're not dead from him." You said bluntly, distant almost.

"So you will not see to it I am safe?"

Alucard glanced at the woman, he was unsure why she thought such things would work. Yet he moved his eyes back onto your face to your narrowed eyes as you stared at her, unmoving and yet something still seemed to swirl in them.

"I can take you back to your caravan where you'd be safe with your family." Was your answer.

"And if I run back here to them?" Sypha questioned you.

You stared at her, your face was hard for him to read, hard to see what you were thinking at that moment.

"I am not in care of your actions then." You spoke.

"Sypha, let it be." Trevor said, pushing off the wall of the abandoned house.

"If he's not going to help then it is no use trying to beg." The man says, rolling his neck.

Yet Alucard could see there was something in Syphas eyes as she stared into yours.

She could see something, they couldn't, He realized as Sypha moved from the floor and towards you.

"And if I asked you to?" She asks so softly.

You clenched your teeth feeling them grit against each other as you stared into the eyes of the present and the past.

You hated it, You hated how you could faintly hear her pleading voice hunting you like a gust of wind.

"Find love, promise me y/n you will find love, true love."

You watched those eyes dilate at you as they seemed to tremble waiting for your answer. You hated how you felt yourself slowly breaking down at them.

No you felt no such things towards the women that held those eyes in her skull. You had no such desires for her, you knew that deep down.

Her eyes are so much like your mothers, perhaps like yours had she still stayed around and you haven't grown so ... .inhuman.

Your mother had tried so hard with your born wrong siblings that very few even got a chance to take a gasping breath before crumbling away, taken back to hell's fires.

Had one of them survived, would they have eyes like the woman staring at you? Would they too have your mothers eyes over your fathers?

You hated how the woman in front of you made you see such familiarities and yet differences to your mother, how they tricked your head like some sort of disease and filled it with such feelings one would have towards a younger kin.

This war had nothing to do with you.

Getting involved would go completely against your fathers wishes and would get you killed..

You may be slightly mad like your damn father, But you weren't an idiot, your mothers wisdom saw to it that you could think well.

The four of you would surely die if you all stormed the castle to take on the mad king and his army. You weren't sure how your father would react to see you openly commit treason against the King of Vampires.

You both were not close, simply acknowledging each other at best.

There was no way your father would turn against the king for you. a half bred child. He would not call off his men, Your people, from attacking four dumbasses who believed they could kill a mad king just because of you.

But as you glared into Sypha's eyes…

How many other humans out there, that was like your mother? How many were her kind of people? Your mother had taught you many things besides reading and writing and basic math, she had told you stories of her people, how the village she was in was merely a small part of it. Her people, she had told you were all over.

She was no speaker, your year traveling in Wallachia made that clear to you, but she was similar to the speakers. A similarity and difference between her and the young woman a few years perhaps two or three at most younger than you shared.

You hated them.

This war had nothing to do with you, If she wouldn't be stupid, she would see it doesn't have to be her too. You could take her back to her little caravan and she would be safe, she wouldn't be shredded to pieces by vampires like your mother had. She doesn't have to die powerless and full of fear like your dear mother had.

But the look in her wavering eyes of uncertainty and yet hope, you could tell.

Foolishly like your mother, She was choosing danger, death, for others.

Like how she chose for you.

…

But the woman in front of you could fight…

…

she didn't have to be powerless.

…

Perhaps, you could teach her to cremate even the fastest inhuman creatures of the night…

You…

you could..Teach her to send vampires to the depths of hell with her flames.

Haldin made a noise from behind you, the gentle beast nudged into your back with his shoulder as if the creature knew of your thoughts. Pushing you to later ones, as if those were the right thoughts to be thinking of completely. Or perhaps you were in fact more mad like your father, Godbrand than you would like to admit. Horses had no thoughts of such things, yet the gentle beast had steered your head like a ship turning on crashing waves, and the ocean eyes you were staring into, were like ice from your homelands, clear and oddly welcoming.

You pushed off and rolled your shoulders, your ax felt almost heavy against it. A blade that went from killing vampires in blind raged revenge, to shredding humans in ravenous bloodlust and hunger, to slaughtering night creatures in disdain ... .Would it really be used now to teach a human to kill one half of your blood? Used to go against everything you were taught, to go against the mad king killing over a human wife…To even strike against your own blood?

It felt so heavy and yet so light as it pressed against your shoulder blade as you moved directly in front of the human woman.

The two men, Hunter and Dhampire, stiffen hands moving to a frayed whip and an enchanted sword hilt.

"Don't be stupid."

…You told her as you stared into her eyes, a warning, a hidden plea. You did not want to waste time teaching her the vampires ways and her fail….But deep down you knew…you just did not want to grow attach, Allow yourself to selfishly think of her as kin,and have to watch her to be slaughtered and you being forced to be alone once again.

'Don't get yourself killed'

Sypha looked up at you, unmoved by your glare, you could see its chill in the reflection of her eyes as she stared back at you, how they softened like ice caps melting in the spring sun and yet hardened like protective thorns of flowers in the summer heat.

"If there is any way you can help us, help us." She speaks to you, looking at you as if you were something other than a bloodthirsty monster.

You hated it.

But it made you feel warm, like a warmth you had forgotten.

"You will have to learn to be faster with your magic."

You watched how her face brightened like stars with a smile that reached her eyes.

You forced out a breath as you looked at the two men behind her, accessing them. How they seemed surprised to you agreeing. You ignored how the hunter muttered something on the lines of him being damned and hoe the so called prince of vampires stared at you, studying your every move like a wolf watching a lone buck.

"You'll need more than some enchanted sword and a fraying whip." You speak again before taking a step back from the woman you were refusing to accept as your own blood.

Trevor moved closer to you and Sypha.

"I want to go home." He says and you watched Sypha whirl around at him quickly.

"Not you too now!" She bristles some as if ready to scold him.

Trevor looked at her for a moment, eyes slightly widened at her wild change but they settled.

"I want to go home, because of the Belmont hold. He's right, we need more and if anyone has guides on how to kill Dracula and to get to his mysterious moving castle, it is my family's hold." He justifies his words wisely.

"Then we should all get moving before we lose sunlight to be started." Alucard speaks moving from his crate of boxes and heading to the carriage.

You watched as Trevor moved before looking back at Sypha clearly distrusting leaving her by your side, yet Sypha didn't leave your side as she chose to walk beside you to the carriage.

"You think he will do well with the other two and help pull?" She asked you to turn her head towards Haldin.

You felt a grin grow on your face as you looked at your steed who stared back at you ears alert but flinching back. His front hoof clacking into the dirt as if he understood her very words and dared her to try it.

"If you want that carriage to lose its wheels." You quipped

"A no then." She quickly states as she watches Trevor move to the front of the carriage to take its coach seat. Alucard climbing in on the back side his legs dangled from it as he sat and watched the both of you.

You moved to your cocky stallion running your hand from his muzzle to his mane before gripping his saddle and pulling yourself up onto him. Once settled you look at Sypha you look at you with a smile.

"You should go to the carriage." You tell her as you watch her put a hand on Haldin's muzzle looking at you.

"Thank you." She whispers to you a look in her eyes that made your chest warm and you hated so much.

You forced out a grunt of acknowledgement much like what you'd do to your Father. Her smile did not fall as she turned and moved to the carriage joining the hunter up front.

You watched the carriage wheels start to go in their circulation movements and you gently pressed your boot heel into haldins side, feeling your horse move to follow the carriage after it.

You ignored the sunrise eyes that watched you from his side vision as he seemed to pretend that he was entirely focused on his chatter with the two humans ... .And how the sun hit his hair with the morning light that you never had liked before in a way that made you want to like it.

You could hear Trevor tell old bar fighting stories and you wondered if you were the only one who had thought…

were so fucked.

chp 8

#castlevania x reader #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #alucard x reader #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #18+ fanfic

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ishouldbedoinghw · 2 months

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You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 8

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues. (Y'all I SWEAR the funny stuff will come soon, I have so many ideas for shenanigans with the crew (Shanks) but I can't skip over the other stuff :/)

A/N: Y'all know the drill. Also certain foods not technically canon in One Piece exist now because I said so.

TW: discussion of trauma, medication withdrawal symptoms, going to the optometrist, self-deprecating language, mc gets made fun of by 8th graders, general angst

A/N: Gave up on the dash line divider thing cause it looks funny on mobile. But I digress.

Enjoy something a little more wholesome:)

It had been a week since Shanks and Hongo had sat me down, and a couple of days since my last episode. Hongo's theory that human touch could help had been correct, and now I was able to get some small amount of sleep while hanging onto some crew member's arm or leg.

It seemed that Benn felt guilty over our spat, as he was the one who offered up a limb most often. He'd tell me stories of the crew's journeys, explain different things about pirates, marines, or anything else I couldn't remember. I learned about different crews, the warlords, and different countries along the Grand Line.

It was also Benn that told me about the One Piece, and while he'd mentioned that Shanks had been on the crew of the late King of the Pirates, he never gave me any details, saying it was up to said captain to share that story.

Hongo kept me company too, although it was in part because he wanted to make sure I was eating and drinking plenty. It was a bit of comfort to hear him explain how my health was progressing, however. Yasopp, unlike Shanks, was good at making me laugh, and often made jokes about the crew to keep me in good spirits.

I probably could have written an essay or two on his son; when he wasn't talking about his own crew, Yasopp would excitedly tell me more about Usopp's adventures with his own crew. Usopp's crew, the Straw Hat Pirates, was a common name thrown around the Red Force, and Shanks loved telling me stories about their captain, Luffy. He especially liked telling me (bragging) about how he saved the kid from sea king that had then eaten his arm.

While I was grateful for the efforts of the crew, I couldn't squash any of the guilt that often bubbled in my gut. I felt like a chore, some kind of burden or part of some checklist they had to make themselves do. Every bump or lurch of the ship made my skin crawl, thinking that we'd made it to an island and they were going to finally be rid of me. I couldn't get it out of my head that whenever the door to the medbay was shut, every one of them complained about how annoying or whiny I was, and how they didn't understand why they had to take care of some girl that they didn't even want in the first place.

They didn't ask for someone that screamed all night, they didn't ask for someone who couldn't eat without it all coming back up. They didn't even ask for someone quiet and unassuming - without another choice, they just let me stay on board, and I'd caused problems ever since. I saw it in the way Hongo's brow twitched when I puked up my lunch again or the way Benn's jaw clenched when I woke him up at night.

Hongo said every now and then that no one on the ship minded me being there, and that they'd much rather help me than throw me out, but I knew that wasn't true. On the rare occasion I made it outside, no one outside of the senior officers wanted to be near me. I was sure the only reason anyone helped me was because they took pity on me, like I was some stray dog that didn't know any better.

At least a dog was cute.

-----

Things got better after I was able to eat, stand, and walk around without vomiting everywhere. The stomachaches hadn't ceased, and most of the time I'd have to sit down from the way my gut constantly twisted, but everything stayed where it was supposed to.

It also turned out Hongo did have a sense of humor after all, because there was a list tacked up on the medbay wall of any foods that upset me- and often those things were very specific.

Chocolate

Too much cheese (don't ask why we have cheese)

Sea king meat on a Thursday night after listening to Shanks sing

Anything past Benn's spice tolerance level (low)

Pop-Tarts - what even are these and why did Roux buy them

PB&J sandwiches, especially when she eats three of them

Homemade mac and cheese (????)

Fried chicken unless immediately followed up with fruit

And at the very end, in Shanks's messy (drunk) handwriting-

pussy>:)

There was also a list of things I could eat without little to no symptoms, and some of them were just as confusing.

Sushi, even raw

Canned Spaghettios - another Roux purchase, it doesn't even count as pasta, I swear this crew is INCOMPETENT

Boxed mac and cheese in small amounts

Copious amounts of chicken alfredo, WITHOUT garlic bread

And Yasopp's addition-

ATE UP Shanks's shorts, NO CRUMBS

As many times as Hongo tried to remove their additions to the lists, both the captain and the sniper would either rewrite what was already their, or in Shanks's case, write something worse. After I evidently couldn't eat "used pirate ass", the doctor just left it alone. Part of me wished he'd left it something a little less gross, like "Shanks's left arm".

----

We'd docked at a bustling island, and I could feel the ship occasionally shifting as the wind changed. I was holed up in one of the storage rooms, and having tried and failed to climb up into the rafters, I was curled up in a corner, keeping in the shadows. My hope was that if the crew never saw me before we left, they wouldn't find some place to leave me ashore. My newly returned hearing proved to be quite useful in times like this, and it wasn't hard for me learn how to pinpoint who was moving around outside the door or above me. I'd hidden like this a few times before, and no one had seemed bothered enough to look for me. I even almost relaxed, feeling confident in my ability to go unnoticed, when-

"Oi, girlie!" Hongo's voice echoed. "I need ya to come with me on shore!"

Fuck.

I stayed silent, trying my damnest to stay in the shadows of the corner, begging him in my head to just change his mind, that I wasn't going to be trouble any more.

"Come on, I want to get there sooner than rather than later."

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Was he that desperate to be rid of me?

"She's in the closet to the right, back left corner." Benn. A tear snuck down my cheek and landed with a soft plat onto the floor. I thought we'd made up. I thought he liked me.

There was a soft knock on the door. I stayed silent.

"I'm coming in, girlie."

Hongo pushed his way through the door and seemed to strain to look through the shadows in my corner.

"Damn, Jett, you're good at that disappearing act. The only ones who can tell where the hell you are are Benn and Shanks." He yawned, stretching some of the ache form his arms before he continued. "Alrighty, you're coming with me today to get some fresh air and-"

"Are you going to get rid of me?" I blurted.

Hongo stared at me like I had asked him to kiss Shanks on the mouth.

"What? No-" his brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched. "Did someone say something to you?"

"No," I said quickly, "I just thought that since- I-I've been causing so much trouble-"

"I'm going to stop you right there, girlie." He walked closer to me, squinting in the dim light. "No one here thinks you're too much trouble. You're someone who needed help and we wanted to give it to you. We want to be here for you because you don't seem to have anyone else, and we like you; it isn't because we just feel bad now and we'll dump you when we get bored or annoyed."

He held out a hand, waiting patiently for me to take it.

"No matter how many times you decide to upchuck Roux's shit cooking, or how many times you wake me up screaming like you'd seen Lime naked."

As much as part of me was screaming not to believe him, and to run and hide somewhere else, I laughed. I chose to laugh and take his hand and stand up.

"There we go," he said, patting my hand. Then he was back to his usual no-nonsense tone. "There's a pretty decent optometrist here, I'm thinking since your hearing has come back- which I want to test the limits of, by the way - that your vision should have come back by now. So, we're going to see if your problem is physical or purely neurological. Either way, it might be helpful to get you some glasses so you quit squinting at everyone."

I just nodded my head as he continued, watching some of the crew head off on their own errands. My feet felt a little unsteady as we hit the dry shore, now more accustomed to the rhythm and sway of the sea. Hongo offered his arm, but I waved it away, saying I'd be fine. He gave one of his small, rare smiles before continuing on about what Shanks had done to piss him off this week. Something about leaving his dirty sandals in the kitchen? I wasn't paying full attention.

I was wideyed at the busy city in front of us; people were everywhere and all of them seemed to be in a hurry. Most of them were yelling about various things - one couple seemed hellbent on getting a divorce because the husband's cooking was bad, a little girl was crying because her dog loved her older brother more because it didn't like its tail pulled, and someone else was talking about a warlord- there was a warlord here in the city? Did that mean trouble? Benn often said that there weren't many marine warships that would bother the Red Force, so had they sent someone more powerful after us?

I'd opened my mouth to ask Hongo when he turned to me and gestured to the large, shiny building in front of us. It was taller than it was wide, and the large red lettering on the front spelled "HOPITAL". Strange, but okay.

There was a large, red-faced man yelling at a smiling older woman at the front desk.

"We have told you, April, changing the spelling won't stop people who need a real hospital from coming in here-"

The woman, never ceasing her grin, waved us over. "Hongo, you old fart, I haven't seen you in forever!"

The man sputtered at her in indignation, clearly not having been ignored very often. "I ought to have you arrested-"

"For what, exactly?" The woman turned back toward him, her grin widening. "It doesn't say 'HOSPITAL' on my building, so you have nothing to complain about, Hank. Go bother someone else, I have an old friend to catch up with." She opened a door behind her, ushering us through, and shut the door in the man's face. I could still hear him squalling and cursing on the other side as April turned to us, her hands clasped.

"So, honey, what did you need?" Her eyes glimmered from behind her round spectacles, the bright blue irises almost transparent.

Hongo spoke. "I was hoping you could run a few tests on her. She's had-" he rubs the back of his neck and glances at me. "-a rough going of it and might have some brain damage that causes her vision problems."

"And you want me to prove that wrong, yes?"

He nodded. April sticks her hand out for me to shake, staring at me with fascination.

"It's lovely to meet you, young lady, and I'm sure this will be so much fun!" She dons a white coat, and hurredly starts opening doors, pulling out elaborate machines that get more and more comically large in size as she goes. My hand starts to sweat at the... unorthodox way this doctor ran her clinic, and wondered how close those machines were going to be getting to my eyeballs.

Hongo seemed a bit tense as well, but did his best to give me a reassuring look when he caught me looking at him. It didn't help much.

-------

An hour and a half of strange beeping, bright lights, and April telling me to 'Move your peepers this way, dear', Hongo and I were pushed out the door with a cheerful diagnosis. It didn't seem like the- whatever had been used on me had been the culprit of my most recent vision problems; I was simply 'Naturally blind!' as the doctor had excitedly told me. We had also been told to kill a couple of hours as she made my new glasses.

When she wasn't telling me to open my eyes wider than they could stretch, April had talked Hongo's ear off the entire time, evidently having known him as a doctor-in-training. I had to admit, it was funny trying to picture the gangly, nerdy Hongo she excitedly spoke of. He was a far cry from that now, having the same muscular build as most of the Red-Haired pirates, and from what I could tell, now sported no acne.

Said doctor was still a bit red-faced from that interaction as we wandered toward a small street market a few blocks over from HOPITAL.

He seemed to gather himself a bit as we drew closer, saying, "What all can you hear from over here, girlie?"

I tried to focus my hearing on the brightly-colored booths closest to us, and did my best to describe anything I heard.

"The merchant there is annoyed by his oldest. Apparently he was arrested for the-" I paused, trying to get an accurate number. "Seventh time for graffiti. And the woman buying from him isn't thrilled with the conversation." My eyes popped open. "Oh my shit, her wife is the marine that keeps catching him. Seems like she hears this story at home, too."

"Damn. You can hear all that from right here?" Hongo seemed to strain to try and listen too, but to no avail.

I hummed a mhm.

"You know, I wonder if your hearing overcompensates for your vision problems naturally, or if it's caused by your devil fruit." He seemed a little lost in thought at those prospects.

I tuned him out and focused on the booths now surrounding us, trying to catch a mention of the warlord I'd heard about earlier.

"I can't believe Shara would do that, she loves that man..."

"Are you wanting that scarf? Look, it's got a sea king tooth on the end there..."

"Look, Strawhat's bounty went up again, wonder what he did this time..."

"Woman, there is no way in hell you actually think Doflamingo is hot..." Oh, gross.

"The hottest warlord is Mihawk by far, I wonder what he's doing here..." There.

I went to tug on Hongo's sleeve, and he let out a grunt, still clearly lost in thought.

"Hongo, people are saying the warlord Mihawk is here, should we be worried?"

He seemed incredibly unbothered by this fact and shrugged. "No, the World Government isn't stupid enough to send Hawkeyes to mess with us. He's refused to fight Shanks since he lost an arm, anyway." He scratched his chin. "I wonder if he'll stay for a drink this time."

I'd heard of Mihawk and Shanks's past, but I'd gathered that the warlord barely tolerated our captain most of the time. I didn't love the fact that Shanks considered himself buddy-buddy with someone under the same government that considered me property, but I was often reassured by Benn or Shanks that he only held the title to keep from being disturbed, and often refused tasks the marines gave him.

I couldn't blame him for wanting that total freedom.

Continuing to listen to the girls' back-and-forth about which warlord they wanted to bang with mild interest, I started looking through a rack of bandanas that had caught my attention. I especially liked one with bright sunflowers on it, thinking it would look nice tied on my head to block my still partially-exposed scalp from the sun. Hongo, having noticed me eyeing it, snatched it up and bought it before I could protest.

"Pick out another one to wear out on the ship, you don't want that one getting too gritty or sweaty all the time." And he went back to looking at a few journals nearby.

He'd also bought the dark blue bandana I'd picked next, and I found myself excited to try them both on. It felt a little silly and childish to get so giddy over pieces of cloth, but I couldn't help myself as I snuck glances at the pretty colors in my bag.

We were contemplating getting Limejuice a t-shirt that said "piss is permanently in my Cheerios" when I heard giggling. It was a girl and boy, teenagers from the sound of them, and they were just far enough away behind me that I couldn't quite make out their faces.

"That's the doctor for the Red-Haired pirates, right?"

"Yeah, his name is Hon- Hongo, right?"

"Oh my God, he is so hot, look at those arms." I had to stifle a giggle of my own, and was about to whisper to Hongo that we were being watched when I heard-

"Who is that with him? You think that's his girlfriend or something?" Yeah, no.

"No way, her ass is ugly as hell, must be another crew member. I don't remember seeing her bounty poster anywhere though." What?

More giggling.

"Look at that ratchet-ass haircut, and that dumbass outfit."

Cackling, then a "Shhhhhhhhh, they'll fucking hear us."

"Wait, I saw her face earlier, her nose is so crooked, what the hell."

"And what kind of pirate is that skinny? And on a Yonko's crew?"

"Holy shit, do you think she's their who-"

My eyes watered, and I reached up to lightly touch the bridge of my nose before swallowing thickly, trying not to sniffle or let any tears fall. I tried focusing on any other sounds on the street, to the cats in the alleys nearby, to anything that could distract me from how badly my face was burning.

"Girlie? You spaced out for a minute, did you hear something?" Hongo leaned in closer and saw my face. "Jett? What's wrong? Do you feel sick-"

There was that damned giggling again, buzzing in my ears like a persistent mosquito. The two were getting closer, whispering about trying to get a peek of Hongo's ass, and was just within earshot of him when they pointed out I didn't have one.

"Oh." He straightened out, put on his "I'm going to murder Yasopp if he doesn't shut up" face, and strode over to the two. They squeaked as he got closer, and their excited grins vanished as he glared down at them.

"Did you know I've skinned grown men alive for saying nicer things than that to my crewmates?" A grin replaced his scowl, and I made a mental note to never try to make the doctor laugh. It was wider than April's, which was creepy enough, and nearly split his face in two, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

The kids screamed and ran off, and I almost felt inclined to join them until Hongo turned toward me again, his face back to normal.

"What the fuck-"

He ignored my horrified expression and threw an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him as we continued down the street.

"My secret weapon, girlie- the Doflamingo."

I decided to leave it at that.

------

Two hours, a long search for clothing that would fit me, and a pair of new glasses later, we were back on the ship, immediately getting harassed by our ginger captain.

"Oi, Spooky, lookie here-" he jabbered on about some bar he wanted to go to tonight, and I was thinking about laying in bed, not really paying attention.

"-and I hope you got some good digs, 'cause you're coming with us!"

Excuse me? I stared at him, waiting for him to say something else, that he was just joking and I could go.

"I'm- doing what?" I spluttered, shifting back and forth between Shanks and an approaching Benn.

"Coming with us! An old buddy of Benn owns this nice music club and I figured you could use some fresh air."

"But I just got some fresh air, and I'm tired-"

"Damn. Womp, womp. Go put some nice shit on, we're leaving after dinner."

Benn was the only one with the decency to look apologetic, but even he wasn't budging on the issue.

"You've got to get on your feet and out of that medbay at some point, lass." He smiles a bit. "This isn't one of the nasty places Shanks usually picks out, I promise you'll have some fun."

And that's how I found myself in a billowy white shirt tucked into a pair of flowy pants cinched tight at the waist. It gave the illusion that my figure was fuller than it really was- at least that's what I told myself. Nausea crawled its way into my throat, and I my face burned again thinking back to earlier that day.

Did everyone think that when they looked at me? Was I really so hideous?

Hongo had told me not to pay attention to anyone like those kids, and that I was plenty pretty, but I wouldn't be shocked if he'd said that just out of pity. I just wish he wouldn't lie to me.

I leaned forward closer to the mirror and scrunched my nose. It was crooked, like I'd broken it and it didn't quite heal correctly. I studied the bags under my eyes, and the way my cheekbones protruded just a little too much. My health had improved drastically since I'd arrived here, but I was still so scrawny and all sunken-in. My jaw clenched as I remember some of the women out today, their lips and cheeks full and dewy, eyes bright and curves- well- existing. I didn't have any sort of makeup to try and even out my skin tone; Hongo had offered to try and help but I'd had enough embarrassment for one day. Plus, it seemed stupid to have that kind of stuff on a ship.

"Spookyyyyy, dinner time!" Fucking Shanks.

I groaned and just splashed my face with water, patting it dry. The best I could do was put my new glasses on and hoped that hid the broken nose and buggish eyes well enough. The one thing I did like was the sunflower bandana I had tied carefully around my head at the base of my skull.

I grit my teeth as I emerged out on deck, ready to face whatever teasing Shanks or Yasopp were about to throw at me, or the stares I would get from the crew for my pitiful attempt at looking nice.

A low whistle greeted me from across the deck. I didn't even have to look over to know it was Shanks. I fought back the tears pricking at my eyes. Get a fucking grip, you aren't a child, you can handle-

"You look great, lass." Benn's heavy hand patted me on the shoulder before handing me a plate of steaming grilled chicken and vegetables.

At that remark I nearly vomited. Teasing I didn't particularly want, but pity was far worse.

"You feeling alright? Ya look a little green-" the damn captain again.

"Please shut up Shanks, you're already forcing me to look stupid in front of strangers tonight, at least try not to in front of the people I fucking live with." I snapped, earning a few snickers from the crew.

I wanted to slam that plate down over someone's head so damn bad, and just storm back down into my hiding place, throwing these stupid clothes I'm not pretty enough to wear overboard somewhere in between.

Benn's hand was on my shoulder again. "You don't look stupid, lass, I mean it, you look-"

"Don't." My hands shook. "Do not fucking lie to me Benn."

"I am the vice captain of one of the most dangerous crews in the Grand Line, lass. I haven't told a lie to save my own ass or anyone else's since I met this ginger jackass."

Fuck. I'd pissed him off again.

"Look," his voice was softer now, catching me off guard. "I don't know what goes on in your head, or how to live through what you have. But don't accuse us of being or doing anything we aren't. We aren't trying feed your ego or pity you."

I just swallowed and nodded, not liking the attention I'd brought to myself.

Benn settled beside me when I sat down to stab at my flavorless chicken. Fuck, I hated having stomach issues.

He started telling me about where we were going that night; a tavern run by a well-known pirate from Gol D. Roger's time. Evidently she'd retired after the Pirate King's execution, not interested in taking the One Piece for herself. I didn't understand what was so great about another old tavern, other than the history of the owner, until Benn mentioned that the former pirate was once world-renowned for her singing.

"Her music's considered a bit out of style now, but her voice is still as good as it's always been," he said, sneaking me a few pieces of spiced sea king when Hongo had his back turned. "People go to her place for dancing more than anything, but I've loved the music alone for the entire time I've been at sea."

Dancing? That caught my attention. I wasn't one for rowdiness or heavy drinking, but some dancing actually sounded fun.

AN: Sorry this one was so long, and honestly a little boring, but I needed this one to set up the next bit, which is a scene I've been planning out and looking forward to writing since I started this.

We may or may not be finally meeting our beloved goth warlord ;)

#one piece #mihawk #red haired shanks #mihawk x reader #slow burn #straw hat pirates

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lesbiansforboromir · 2 years

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Hello! I am here today to post an agonisingly long HC about Gondorian-Dunadain/Faithful held beliefs and philosophies on sex and marriage. As per Tolkienian necessity when trying to apply to canon, this is going to be incredibly catholic, homophobic, racist and sexist BUT we’re also subverting it later so... keep hanging on!

Firstly, to define the generally accepted in-world scholastic origin for a lot of these beliefs, some of which are metaphysically ‘true’ for the in-universe offered mechanics of souls. I will be initially stealing a few concepts from an ancient magnum opus fanfic called Hands of the King, namely that Silmariën (daughter of Tar-Palantir in Numenor, ancestress to Elendil and essentially the mother of the Faithful Dunadain) had a massive and foundational impact on the culture of the Faithful. The Silmariën Discourses are a well reproduced and distributed collatation of all her writings on all aspects of living a ‘Faithful life’ that she wrote throughout her life. And whilst they touch on many diverse topics, sex and marriage is one of them.

Of course, these ideas were heavily influenced by Numenorean understanding of elven traditions, hence LaCE is also an in-universe document in a manner of speaking, written by even earlier Numenorean scholars during the periods of great friendship between elves and Numenor.

And then, whilst the Silmariën discourses serve as the basis for these customs in Gondor and Arnor and are still quite a common sight within Gondorian libraries and upperclass bookshelves, even taught in schools to a certain degree, other sages and scholars in both Arnor and Gondor have added too or debated their details for generations since then. Hence amongst the Southern and Northern Dunadain you will find differences of custom and perspective.

And finally, whilst this is technically the attitude of the ‘dominant’ culture in Gondor, it is at the same time technically a culture belonging to an ethnic minority. Even if it is the widespread and reinforced perspective, taught to every citizen within Gondor, it is in no way the only perspective and opinions upon it are complex and diverse throughout the many people groups that make up the country itself. With all that in mind, here is the basic framework of the traditonal viewpoint;

- Obviously, the first major point; sex is for marriage and procreation alone. It is a joy, but only when it is shared between you and your 'one', your partner in body and soul. Otherwise it is a corruption and a symptom of your tragic fall from grace. - In Elves this concept is spiritually enforced, the Faithful (and elves themselves) believe that elves cannot have sex outside of marriage for sex to them is a matter of bonding souls in and of itself and to share that intimacy with anyone who wasn’t your bonded partner would cause harm to you. This is because elves interact with the world using their souls, their bodies are more like vessels, it is their souls that bind them to the world. - However, because humans are connected to the world by their bodies and when they die they leave the circles of Arda never to return, they have been allowed the clemency and mercy of a less restrictive and more fluid matter of choice. It is a grievous hurt to be separated from your soul’s partner, so the atani are allowed ‘lesser’ bonds of love and companionship as they pass through the world. - But this clemency has a downside, it allows room for corruption. This corruption appears in many forms, such as polygamy, queer attraction, promiscuity, marriage for anything but love and sexual violence, but each of them are all to be deeply pitied as signs of a weak and feeble mind and heart that has succumbed to the evil influences of Arda-marred. Such people can resist their corruptions, but they should not be allowed to influence others. - As Silmarien explains it; "If Men are made to be visitors of short passage, then it is right that they shall be loath to bind themselves to someone else and be sundered from that beloved; two wills are deprived of their choice and much grief must follow. Men could give their forms in marriage, yet withhold their full will, something the Elves simply could not do. While this might lessen their grief at the inevitable passing of their mate, it also left open the door for corruption by the Enemy, for Men were tempted very easily into bestial ways, abusing this grace by sharing their bodies promiscuously." - It is generally accepted amongst the Dunadain that, if you are 'a man of high race’, you are more protected against this corruption than those of less blessed lineages. And the truer the blood of Numenor runs in you, the more you are expected to lead a ‘blessed’ life and wed your heart’s true partner. But you are not exempt! Through life or evil thoughts, one might still become corrupted and be inspired to baser deeds and corrupted lifestyles, making you alike to the heretics of old Numenor. - But the Atani should not despair, for (uncorrupted) men are still capable of the same depths of devotion in marriage as elves. Those of high race can indeed experience similar aspects of soul-bonding, ‘willing’ their souls together and knowing that person on a more intimate and spiritual level, sensing their presence and so forth. And this is believed to be the ‘true nature’ of men. - And in combination with that, as a combat to this problem of corruption, marriage as a ceremony allows a more physical solution to the issue of men’s wills and partners, both as a public declaration of that will, as well as an aid to those averagely-corrupted men. Marriage creates an environment that will, hopefully, lead men towards their natural ‘willing’ and a blessed life.

There is some division over one passage within Silmarien’s discourses;

"While Men may not be compelled to will their marriage in the manner of the Eldar, holding forever steadfast to a single choice, still they are capable of it and it is their proper nature. In marital congress are their wills given unity with their forms. It is known among the Dúnedain for some to will thusly from the start or all at once, and those who do are changed and never repent of their choice. Most who will, however, come slowly to this state; their willing is weaker and may sometimes be broken or relinquished. Even so, most Dúnedain will know this joy. To be pitied are those who, like lesser Men, cannot or will not fulfill their natures. They are corrupt."

In Gondor, in the later third age, it is no longer socially acceptable to speak the opinion that ‘lesser men’ are incapable of the same depth of love as the Dunadain. This does not mean none hold that opinion, only that society has enough middle men within it, even in the higher classes, that they have pushed social graces toward a less derogatory view. Though it still often influences the Southern Dunadain philosophy.

However, within the northern dunadain, it is still a fully accepted wisdom and partly accounts for both their isolationism and the lack of Dunadain marrying into wider families in Eriador. Cautionary tales from Northern Dunadain to their sons and daughters run thus; it is tragic but you must not fall for the illusion of love in the eyes of these middle men, their devotion cannot be true, you are destined for a higher love.

SO! That’s all the bigotry out of the way, now for my headcanoned ‘true’ mechanics of all this that I am holding as canon for my character and world interpretations on this blog. These hcs both semi-apply to the ideas of ‘fea’ as they are set out, but also allow gay people to exist and for elves to be able to sleep with who they want without canonically being a sickness of the soul or whatever.

So, yes, Elves have souls that are more seperate from their bodies. They are immortal, as in they live so long it might as well be classed as forever within the confines of Aman. And their body is not what keeps them there, it is just the way they move around the world and interact with it physically. Whereas mortals, (putting a pin in dwarves for the moment) such as humans and hobbits are bound to Arda by their bodies alone and when their bodies are killed so is their connection to this world and they leave to ‘somewhere else’. Unspecified. As such, elves and their bondmates will not suffer the sorrow of parting forever, whereas humans might. Hence, elven souls ‘bond’ during sex, whereas humans must ‘will’ for it to occur.

Which, in terms of morality, are all neutral facts until you include the machinations of the Valar and Eru and what they WANT it all to mean. I am galvanised by the idea that, whilst some technical aspects of these things are true, the actual meaning of them have been distorted, first by colonialist elves, who then encouraged colonialist humans, and whom were all inspired by Valar unwilling to believe themselves wrong in any way despite the fact that Morgoth also distorted their understanding of the world they had sung of to begin with. And meanwhile Eru does not care about any of it, he only cares if his 'right to the throne of the world’ is being challenged.

The concept I am running with is the idea that the true ultimate 'divine' aspect of the world comes from the Secret Fire, which Eru used to kindle life yes, but which is in fact a distinct entity from him, unknowable even to him. And in kindling life, it naturally diversified into it’s own aspects of life in completely neutral ways that were meant to coexist and collaborate to produce a harmonious world for the benefit of all. But, upon being placed into a world still ruled by Valar (whom are canonically flawed in actions, motives and understanding whilst also possessing great power) that world and the new life within it was subject to their influences and persuaded by their held beliefs of the ‘right’ way of life, that some of the diverse aspects the secret fire took that they did not understand were ‘corruptions’. Hence the elven faithful belief system was born.

Which, (completely and utterly whoops by accident and unbiased happenstance on my part) creates the situation where Boromir and all of Gondor can say 'I don't care what is divinely ordained to be right as god claims it and I do not care if it is for some great plan I could never understand, I know it to be wrong in my heart' and they are fundamentally correct for saying that, because they (and all other creatures in arda) ARE the secret fire and are therefore actually more divine than Eru is in the end.

They can be handed all of these truths about souls and bonding and death and all the works of the Valar and Morgoth's corruption and so forth that all SEEM to support these Valar-originated concepts and the elves and Eru's divine supremacy and ownership over all creation etc and still say I don't care, I don't care if I'm divinely wrong. I'm humanely right and I would rather hold to that mundane choice than be holy in the eyes of a divinity that claims these things.

Hence some ‘heretical’ elves can nod and agree, yes, elves bond, souls become entangled. I have bonded many times, I have shared my soul with many, both in the elven way, the dwarven way and the human way. I unlearned what I was taught and listened to what my soul told me, that elves can create their own realities, we can decide what things mean to us, what a soulbond of love looks like. The fact that I am more soulfully made up of all the pieces of many people who loved me is a beautiful strength not a corrupted weakness.

And Boromir, whom had in essentials been agnostic to the whole thing as a young man and was then confronted by the strange evidence of him being ‘of high race’ in his natural ‘willing’ to Theodred. He eventually acknowledges, yes, I am experiencing some of these things people talk about, which makes it seem like what the Faithful preach is true, and therefore I am corrupted and my love for Theodred is a corruption, despite my ‘willing’ to him. But I have decided I don't care. This is the life I lead, this is the love I have. If it is not acceptable to God then he should have given me a different life and made me a different man.

And Denethor who spends his whole life trying to negotiate with divinity, he cares, he does, he wants to be faithful, he wants to be good! But faith keeps failing him, failing everyone and everything he cares about, he has been abandoned by God in the midst of a holy way FOR God, and yet so many of these seemingly innocuous things are wrong? And eventually he is angry and betrayed and says fine, I will be what you believe me to be, this thing you call a great sin is far kinder and far more just than anything divinity has ever asked of me.

And all of them are right! Because the Secret Fire is divine, in and of itself, and what it wills is what is right for it’s own existence.

THERE again so sorry, this is even longer than I thought it would be.

#gondor meta #tolkien meta #soap operas in mannish sindarin #erran vs tolkien #boromir #gondor #dunadain #text post #tolkien #lotr #gender and sexuality in gondor #borodred #denethor #long post #longpost #long post cw

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thesoulspulse · 1 year

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Danny Phantom Randomness (Vlad Vs Dracula)

(Note: This is concept art from an cancelled Don Bluth animated film about Dracula we were robbed of which makes me sad. Just wanted to put that out there even though it’s slightly unrelated to the topic at hand.)

Ok, so I’m sure that collectively as a fandom we all know that Vlad was loosely based off Dracula, aka Vlad The Impaler. And according to the wiki page, “Plasmius is more vampiric than Masters, as this was the producer's original intention, although it was rebuked by Nickelodeon, who considered it too "occult." But again, no matter how much they tried to deny it Danny Phantom IS a show about ghosts, supernatural creatures, and various different popular characters from well-known urban myths and legends. Honestly, I wish there had been more of them besides Pandora and Wulf the werewolf...

Anyways, there’s plenty of fanfics out there that do go the extra mile to make Vlad a vampire who drinks ectoplasm and stuff like that but what if he was actually RELATED to the original vampire by the same name as him and that’s why his ghost form looks the way it does? What if vampires were real too just like ghosts since they technically fit into a similar category as half-ghosts because they’re the undead...?

I just think it would be funny to see Vlad meet Dracula, aka the source of his name-sake, only to be treated like a child by an immortal being that can’t be overshadowed and can pretty much do everything he can but better. Dracula has superhuman strength, teleportation, the power of flight, can possess people (even hypnotize which Vlad can’t do in the show at least since that would make it way too easy to take over Maddie and Danny’s minds), and regeneration to name a few that’s the same as a lot of ghosts. That said, Dracula has the usual weaknesses of any vampire like his powers are weaker during the day, holy water and silver burns him (think of these as Blood Blossom equivalents), and his “obsession” is an unquenchable thirst for blood.

I’d love for this Dracula to specifically be like the Dracula Untold version who was ruthless to ultimately save his family and his people. He loved his wife and son more than anything which would be nice to see as a tie in to Vlad’s feelings for Maddie and Danny. Of course, Dracula would have none of his poor-pitiful-me act and call Vlad a disgrace to their bloodline.

Dracula would encourage Vlad to find his one true love who will only have eyes for him from the bottom of her heart, not pine over someone who has chosen another since he has known a love that transcends death because every century or so Dracula searches for the reincarnation of his beloved. And if she has married another he’ll protect her from afar knowing that she does not always remember him when they meet again and he basically has to prove his devotion all over again like a 50-First Dates sort of deal otherwise whenever she’s single.

As for Danny, it’d be a similar scolding. Dracula would point out how fighting a child is unbecoming of him, especially if he views this boy as a son. Therefore, Vlad should be helping him, not making his life harder because Danny has already faced more horrific battles than any 14 year old boy should.

"It's not a child's place to defend his country." ~ Dracula Untold

Hopefully something Dracula said will resonate with Vlad because if not, its hard to say if they share the power of immortality too and the old vampire has better things to do with his free time. I dunno, I’m probably rambling but it was a fun idea in my head so I had to share it. Especially since I have drawn Vlad in a costume inspired by the classic vampire along with the Phantom of the Opera which I couldn’t stop thinking about when I discovered that little piece of Don Bluth history above about Dracula getting a redemption arc. And I’m a big fan of redemption arcs for our favorite fruitloop too!

#danny phantom #danny phantom randomness #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #dracula #dracula untold #count dracula #vampire #don bluth #vlad the impaler #thesoulspulse #thesoul'spulse #the souls pulse #the soul's pulse

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norel-ravenclaw · 7 months

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Ok so this doesn’t need to be 100% like the request but similar

Can you do a Princess in the Mirror fanfic where MC is tired of people telling her to “act more like a princess?” So she decides “fuck it” and starts to act as much as a princess as she possibly can and pretty much does what Faris does and fakes her entire personality in public. Then when people start commenting on how she isn’t acting herself she’s like “I’m just doing what everyone has been telling me to do 😊”

Heck, even the king is slightly unsettled by this change

You can make this go however you want

Please and thank you ♡

Just What You Wanted

Fandom: Princess In The Mirror (Otome)

Featured Characters: Most of the major characters but focused on the Princess

Genre: Semi-angsty psychology

Rating: occasional language and thematic elements

Description: The Princess is finally ready to admit that being in this new world isn’t a dream - and she’s ready to become the monarch everyone is pushing her to be… And more.

A/N: Ohhh anon, this is so deeply satisfying~ 😈👿 It’s how I had to frame my mc to be able to read through the story. Hopefully the tone conveys the overall feeling of, well, satisfaction. (Also fuck the king very much)

Warnings: | angst | political slavery | mentions of abuse culture |

I lay in bed, exhausted and sobbing at the end of another horrible day from the longest week of my life. The voices of so many people trying to make me do what they want go through my head.

‘Straighten up! You look like a gnarled, hunchbacked old woman.’

‘Come now, Princess, don’t I deserve a smile?’

‘You are expected to produce an heir as soon as possible to prevent the people from being more unsettled.’

‘Don’t look away from the duke like that! You refuse to engage with people now, but you’re going to have to.’

So many voices trying to make me accept that this isn’t a dream, a coma. That this is real.

So many faces in the palace and on the streets looking up to me with fear and hope.

So many people that I desperately disagree with.

…So many ways I can imagine changing things.

My daydreams have turned away from tv shows and hoping for someone at work to ask me out. My every thought has been consumed by politics and psycho-analyzation of strangers in a strange world.

A country that they are forcing me to take care of.

I sit up, all of my rage coalescing into a crystalline-sharp form.

And something snaps inside me.

Looking around this room, the moonlight gently illuminating the space, I take in every detail. Every fold of the fabric, every carved niche in the bedframe, the chill in the air.

I can’t run anymore. I know the truth. This is real.

And the people here are real. Their pain, their fears, their hopes and loves - they are real.

And they are not being properly protected by the people in this god forsaken building.

The emotions of fear and self-pity melt away all at once. I get up and go to the letter writing desk, lighting a candle and pulling out the neglected diary in its drawer.

I’m amazed by how quickly it fills - not with pouting, self centred emotions, but with ideas for action, borne of rage as much as hope.

~~~

When the knock at the door sounds, it is accompanied by a horrible scraping sound.

“Um, Princess? What’s going on?” Simeon calls out.

I rise and walk to the door, moving the chair away from under the handles.

“Ah, there is our lovely Princess’s face…” He trails off when he sees my expression. Behind him, Flora and Mary peek around to meet my eye.

“Things are going to change,” I announce firmly. “Starting today.”

Stepping aside to open the door wider, I begin with the new orders.

“No one is to open my chamber door without explicit, verbal permission. Mr. Simeon, I want to see other quarters that may have a more appropriate layout - namely a reception room before the actual bedroom. Captain Zell, come in as well.”

The four people file into my room, looking apprehensive.

“Captain Zell, security is far too lax. I require a full escort at all times. We will discuss the details later. Simeon, I need to know what my personal budget is, and who do I speak with about it. Flora and Mary, bring me whoever is making all of these clothes. Production stops immediately until I have made my own arrangements with them. I will not have so much work and money go into more dresses that make me feel like a haunted baby doll. I also require self defence lessons and a map of the castle.”

All of them stare at me with shock. It is Zell who finally speaks up.

“Princess… What has come over you?”

I put on a smile - one of the first that I actually mean. “I tried to ignore reality. But no more. Starting now, I make the rules.”

My expression softens into something more remorseful. “I have failed to even ask you about yourselves. I intend to correct the mistakes of my selfishness immediately. But in the meantime, you all have your orders. While I get dressed, please repeat them back to me so I know there have been no miscommunications.”

After a moment of stunned silence, they jump into action. While they list their instructions, a knock comes to the open door.

“You idiot. A note on my door isn’t enough to excuse…” Vincent finally registers all of the people in my room. “What’s going on here?”

I throw a smile his way as Mary hastily finishes my hairdo.

“Ah, master Vincent. We need to talk. Everyone else except Flora and Zell are excused.”

They exchange looks as the crowd thins, and I turn to my tutor. “Mr. Vincent. Starting now, I want every word of communication you make to me to be purposeful, specific, and useful. Together we will learn how to set aside emotion in favour of developing strategy and working to solve problems, rather than just complaining about them.” His eyes are wide as he stares at me. “Have I left any room for misunderstanding?”

“…No, Princess.”

This is actually kind of fun. “Good. Thank you. I spent some time prioritising what I need to learn. We will focus more on those topics for now. I am certain you will agree; there is no reason to delay learning the most critical information and skills. I must attend breakfast, so let us get going.”

“Oh, but first.” I turn to Flora and hold out my notebook. “Ms Flora, are you able to write?”

She nods, looking at me like I’ve been replaced by an alien. “Yes, Princess.”

I offer her a genuine smile. “Excellent! May I ask you to be my note taker? My mind has been going a mile a minute and I can not permit forgetting anything at all.”

“A-as you wish.”

“Thank you so much.”

As we parade out of my quarters, already something comes to mind. “Ah, Flora. Starting a list on page twenty six, add ‘labour laws’ and below it ‘military and essential service labour laws’.”

Beside our footsteps and the scratch of a pencil on paper, my entourage is absolutely silent.

Once out into a grander hall, I remember something. “Say, Mr Vincent, what is this kind of roof called? This rounding at what would be the corners of the walls?”

“I… actually don’t know. I am less versed in architecture.”

“Ah. I remember seeing a t- I mean, a program where they said that shape helps with temperature regulation throughout a space. I’ve always enjoyed architecture, and would like to study it. Can you arrange such lessons in another month or two?”

I hear footsteps coming towards us, and as we found the corner, the four noble sons cross our path.

“A woman wanting to study architecture? Absurd,” Luca scoffs.

I offer him a smile filled with venom. “I disagree. Lord Savini, I will ask of you what I asked of another this morning - You waste your own mental and emotional energy as well as mine with your senseless complaining. Either propose a way to fix the problem and be useful, or be silent. This is an order.”

The men stare at me in the same utter shock as the group before.

He furrows his brow and practically snarls at me. “What do you think you’re doing? You are in no place to scold me when there is so much you can’t do, pajama broad.”

Falco tries to step between us, but I hold up a finger to stop him.

I remain calm, clasping my hands behind my back. “You are trying to deflect by showing aggressive physical behaviour meant to make me submit in fear. I condemn this learned instinct.” His eyes grow wide, and I can see the slightest tilt of his head in confusion.

“Now, there is at least as much that I am ignorant of as you are. I cannot claim omnipotence any more than you can. So, Luca Savini, let us learn and rise up together.”

I smile at him, and the tension in the air snaps when Simeon sighs.

“Look at our Princess! I wonder if it is her red undergarments that have given her such courage today.”

I turn on him, my smile falling. He swallows hard. I let the silence stretch for moment to make him and everyone else focus on this moment.

Just as he takes a breath to speak, I raise a hand to stop him.

“Mr Simeon. You need to understand that your joking enables and reinforces a culture of rampant abuse, violence, and murder.” The blood drains from his face. “You, intentionally or not, embolden people to accept objectification and you subjugate unwilling women to appease your selfish whims. You make it harder for women to say no because ‘it’s just a joke’.”

I take a deep breath. “From this moment onward, you are forbidden from contributing to a culture of fear and selfishness. Do you understand?”

The man looks like he’s about to be sick. He drops to his knees. “…I never thought about it that way. I cannot begin to apologise enough, Princess. Please forgive me.”

I meet his eye. “It is not for me to forgive. Flora? ‘Survivor’s bill of rights. Witness protection program. Safe houses. Prison reform.’”

With a sigh, I turn back to the stunned noblemen. “Let’s get to breakfast, shall we?”

When Farris asks, “What happened to you?” I reply simply this time.

“I woke up.”

We file into the dining hall, and I wait in the doorway until the room turns to look at me. Joseph is the first to catch on. He stands at his place, gesturing to the others to do the same. Slowly, all of the noblemen and the two women in the room slowly get to their feet.

Satisfied, I offer them a smile and incline my head before going to take my place at the king’s side.

“Good morning, uncle.”

He stares at me with surprise and suspicion. “What’s gotten into you this morning?”

I smile at him, hoping it doesn’t come across as menacing. “I know what I need to do to serve this country. No more wasting time.”

As soon as our plates have been brought in, I look down the table and address the Minister of Foodstuffs. I ask for his tutelage, followed by the Minister of Defence and Trade.

The king huffs a quiet sound of approval. “I’m glad to see you taking things seriously.”

This smile I don’t bother to edit much of the sheer loathing from. “You inspired me, uncle.”

His eyes widen at first. “Mm. Well, I’d like to discuss with you then how your search for a husband is going.”

“Oh? Good. There is much to discuss.”

After the room and table have cleared, the king holds me back.

“We will talk here.”

“Very well.” Clasping my hands behind my back again, I stand tall and summon an aura of authority. “Shall I relay to you my current assessment of the four noblemen in question?”

“Yes. Do.”

I smile and go through the list quickly.

“Lord Luca is a dangerously ignorant narcissist. I would not trust him to feed my cat, let alone with a country’s military.

“Lord Farris is unwell. His trauma, whatever it may be, has manifested classic symptoms of self preservation that make me uncertain whether he would ever be trustworthy.

“Lord Falco seems to be, and I say this with full acknowledgement of my own lacking, less intelligent than me. Which is a critical requirement for my co-ruler to possess.

“Lord Joseph is nice, but he lacks persuasion skills, command, and drive. Again, it is a matter of them having the skills that I do not.

“And so, I cannot in good conscience allow control of the country to belong to any of them.”

The king blinks a few times before scowling mightily. “They are all the options you have.”

I reply quickly. “Then we need a greater saturation of people who have the education and skills so that the people are not trapped being governed by someone unsuitable. Do you disagree that they deserve the best?”

He slams his hands on the table. “You don’t know what you are talking about! That is not the way things are!”

I shoot him the most professional death glare possible.

“That is not what I asked.”

This makes him pause, his breath catching visibly. His face is turning red. “You will do what is necessary to follow my orders.”

A smile naturally finds its way to my lips. “I will do what is necessary for the protection of the people’s lives and futures. Please understand, uncle. I am not some bitch on a chain for you to order and tug about - to breed as you please.”

I say the next part slowly.

“You trap me here, offering me a crown and a country. I accept. Know that it is a woman prepared to become a Queen that you are dealing with.”

He stares at me in utter shock, for once speechless.

I put on another smile. “Are you not pleased? You wanted me to accept this life of slavery you forced me into. So I accept a life of service - to the people of Kristein.

I’ve never felt so powerful as I lay down the law for this bastard.

“I accept the responsibility of holding corruption accountable. I accept the responsibility of securing a safe and reliable future - and that is not guaranteed through a system that relies on sexual and child slavery to function. I accept the responsibility to choose a trustworthy and competent co-ruler. Your options are insufficient. Another will have to be chosen. Such is my responsibility.”

He looks at me like I’m some sort of demon. And I chuckle, sighing contentedly.

“Isn’t this just what you wanted?”

#norel writes #princess in the mirror #voltage otome #ikepri #ikemen prince

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mamadoc · 3 months

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Fanfic Preview

Here’s part of my newest chapter where Angela and Lucy meet for the first time. Enjoy!!

Angela smiled deviously at Lucy’s discomfort. It looks like she may be just as invested in this relationship as Tim is, she thought to herself. Then she took a little pity on Lucy and decided to change the subject to address something else Lucy had mentioned. “Hmm… I happen to know the DA that made that deal. He’s smoking hot and damn good at his job.”

Lucy was confused and wove her eyebrows together. She had expected Angela to say something more about Tim, but she had not expected anything about Wesley.

Nyla saw the confusion on Lucy’s face and swatted her hand toward Angela. She shook her head and turned to Lucy. “Ignore her. She’s just talking about her husband, Wesley Evers.”

“Wait… What?” If Lucy had looked confused before, she looked completely bewildered now. Then everything seemed to be clear to her as though the snow had fallen in a snow globe revealing the characters inside. “Oooooh,” she said, her mouth making a perfect, puckered circle. “You’re that Angela,” she said, her mouth converting into a wide grin.

“I’d like to know what that means,” Angela said, a bit taken aback that she would know anything about her from Wesley.

Lucy quickly explained, “No, no. It’s all good things. Wesley actually brags about you all the time. He’s always showing me pictures of your son, Jack, who is quite adorable, by the way. But I had never made the connection that you were a detective at Mid-Wilshire. Now it makes so much sense.” Lucy paused as she thought through her prior interactions with Wesley. “Wesley is my favorite DA to call when I need help. He and I seem to be on the same page when it comes to who should get a deal and who needs help and who needs to be prosecuted. He’s a great guy, really amazing.”

As Lucy paused, she repeated the words she had just said again in her mind. Her eyes opened wide, and she quickly corrected, “I mean. I’m not jealous or trying to steal your husband. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I… Wesley is just a good person, a good friend. That’s all I was trying to say.”

Angela and Nyla laughed as Lucy’s concerned ramblings. “No worries, Lucy. I know Wesley only has eyes for me; I’m not offended. Plus, he knows that if his eyes were to wander, I could easily kill him and make it look like an accident. No one would ever know,” Angela said lightly, as though she was telling a joke about golfing at a country club. Angela and Nyla’s eyes connected, and they both laughed a little bit harder.

Lucy looked back and forth between the two detectives and then joined in the laughter. She was at least 90% sure that Angela was joking… okay, maybe just 80% sure.

Read more at

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icebear4president · 1 year

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Really nervous about posting a fanfic for the first time on here, but it’s just a little story about the NA brothers going stargazing!

“I don’t know why you wanted to come all the way out here, Al. I have a really nice observatory in Toronto that we could go to instead of trudging around in the snow.”

Alfred huffed, his breath crystallizing in the frigid air. The weather had dampened his mood quite a bit, and everything seemed to be going against him that day. The wetness of the snow on his thick layers of clothing made the bag on his shoulder try to slip off, and he constantly had to keep readjusting it, adding to his mood. Matthew, on the other hand, was actually enjoying the slight wind and the softness of the snowflakes that landed on his nose.

“If I wanted to go to an observatory, I’d just go in my own country. I already missed my chance to get the best view in August, and now I’m spending my days off trudging through the snow in Alberta. This better be as good as you said-dammit!” Alfred cursed, his foot falling through a snowbank.

Matthew watched in amusement as his brother struggled to get up, and continuously failing at it, letting out a string of curses that could rival a drunk England. It was pretty entertaining seeing the usually bubbly nation getting riled up over a bit of snow.

Taking pity on him, Matthew grabbed his hand and pulled him up, while grabbing the bag with his other hand. Alfred took it from him and held it to his chest protectively, glaring at the snow like it was the icy mush’s fault he wasn’t paying attention to where he was placing his feet. He brushed himself off and turned to Matthew with a pout.

“You should really do something about all this snow, dude. I could have broken my telescope and it was super expensive,” he whined.

“I can’t control the weather; I’ve told you this multiple times.”

Alfred ignored him and continued forward. He took out a folded map, eyebrows furrowing as he skimmed over it. He was pretty decent when it came to reading simple maps, but he was in no way an expert. But his pride always got in the way of him asking for help, getting him lost on occasions. “Your maps are total crap, bro,” he complained. Matthew forced himself not to roll his eyes at his incompetence.

“How about you let me take a look, and we can figure it out together,” he offered, which roughly translated to “You’re just being stubborn and making a complete fool of yourself.”

Alfred waved off his suggestion, still analyzing the map. “I’ve got this, bro. I’m the hero and heroes don’t need help.”

“Honestly, Al-”

“Ah-ha! We’re almost there! I told you I knew where I was going!” He bounded off and Matthew had to sprint to keep up with him, and almost collided into his brother’s back when he stopped abruptly. But being the good person he is, he decided against scolding his brother and instead tried to figure out why this place was so intriguing to Alfred. All he could see was a small clearing, like the millions of others scattered around his country. At first glance it looked like this was total waste of trip, except...

Ah.

Matthew smiled when he realized why Alfred had dragged him all the way out here. Very few trees, no buildings, no light pollution. Nothing but a vast expanse of sky for miles and miles. A perfect place for the type of observations his brother wanted to do. He should have known, remembering that there was a major tourist attraction a few towns over specifically for viewing the night sky.

“Well, don’t just stand there, help me unpack this! I want to have this fixed and in place before it gets too dark.”

With that, the two brothers knelt in the snow and started assembling the telescope piece by piece. Well, more like Alfred was overly paranoid Matthew would mess something up, watching his every move, until he finally decided to just do it himself. Anybody else might have been offended, but Matthew knew deep down Alfred trusted him to put it together, his possessiveness of his prized viewing tools just got in the way. It was in all honesty, completely unintentional.

Finally, after making sure everything was as perfect as it was going to get, Alfred did the last task of adjusting the lenses to his liking. He stood back and admired his handiwork.

“This baby is an Orion telescope. There’s no other handheld telescope like,” Alfred said proudly. Matthew hummed in agreement. He had a make and model just like it, but it was much older. He made a mental note to make sure all his viewing tools were up to date. He wasn’t really as good as keeping up with these things himself, letting his space agency worry about all that. Besides, he really only went stargazing if it was with his brother.

Alfred dug into his bag again and pulled out a notebook and ballpoint pen, opening to a bookmarked page. Matthew looked over his shoulder, curious to see what was written on the pages. His eyes widened slightly in surprise and slight amazement. Detailed drawings of galaxies and maps of stars, with multiple diagrams of astronomical coordinates and mathematical formulas written in Alfred’s cursive handwriting. A much more eccentric version of what he did when he was younger.

“Huh, I didn’t think you still put so much time and effort into doing this. You have so much new technology, isn’t this a little outdated? Not that it’s any less amazing!” Matthew said, quickly.

Alfred flushed, but it was more from the praise of someone acknowledging his hard work than it was from embarrassment.

“Yeah, I know, I just really like doing it. It’s different, you know, when it’s by my own hand. This isn’t just a little hobby, Matthew, it’s something I really love,” he said, moving his hands as he talked to add extra emphasis to his words.

“You sound so grown up right now, who are you and what have you done to my brother?” Matthew teased. Alfred placed his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “Hey! I can be serious; I just choose not to! Why, just this morning-”

Matthew shook his head good-naturedly as Alfred went on a tirade of how he was a ‘mature adult’.

“Oh, I got you something!”

Surprised, Matthew automatically shook his head. “You didn’t have to-”

“Well, I wanted to,” Alfred cut him off. “Plus, it’s kinda old and I don’t have anywhere to put it anymore and I know you can take better care of it then me.”

“I don’t know if you’re giving me a job or a gift.”

Ignoring the jab, Alfred pulled out a weather-beaten leather notebook, very much like his other one, and handed it to Matthew who stared at it in disbelief.

“Alfred, absolutely not, you can’t give this to me. You worked so hard on this, it must have taken years!”

“A hundred and fifty years to be exact,” Alfred stated proudly, before softening his voice. “And I want to give it to you. You’re the reason I have it in the first place, remember?”

Warmth filled the Canadian, and he subconsciously held the notebook closer to his chest. Of course he remembered. When they were both colonies they were left alone for extended periods of time, only having each other for comfort. With all the time they spent together, Matthew couldn’t help but notice his brother’s fascination with the night sky. He would never forget the absolute joy on Alfred’s face when he gave it to him. He had spent hours upon hours outside for weeks on end, until Matthew threatened to take it away if he didn’t get back on a decent sleep schedule. He kept it like it was sacred, one time kneeing England in the groin when he dared to try to throw it out.

“Alfie, I-thank you. This means more to me than you know.” Alfred laughed a slapped him on the back. “No problem, dude! There’s no one in the world I trust more-oh look!”

During their conversation, the night had grown darker, and the first bright stars were starting to appear. Alfred hurried over to the telescope and grabbed his new notebook, starting to babble excitedly about what he was hoping to catch and observe, whilst spitting out facts Matthew already knew, until he went quiet completely absorbed in what he was doing.

Realizing he wasn’t getting a turn with the telescope, Matthew backed away a few feet and laid down on the snow. He sighed in contentment as he looked up at the bright band of stars that arched across the sky, slicing it in half. It was a good feeling that he wanted to hold on to for as long as he could.

He stole at Alfred, who was still absorbed in his work, completely dead to the outside world. His tongue stuck out from the side of his mouth, nose crinkled in concentration as he furiously wrote, but there was the undeniable twinkle in his eyes that gave away his excitement.

“Take a break Alfred, you’ve been like this for almost an hour,” Matthew called out, patting the soft snow besides him. Alfred frowned, looking he was going to object, before sighing. He walked over and flopped down, showering Matthew with cold droplets of snow.

“Asshole,” Matthew muttered,” kicking Alfred’s leg, “I hope you get so much snow this year, you suffocate in it.”

“Love you too, big bro.”

Alfred sighed, staring up at the sky with longing. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? That’s not even a fraction of what’s out there, not even a speck of dust in so many undiscovered places. And I’m gonna explore it all one day, just you wait!” He said, blue eyes sparkling.

Matthew nodded in agreement. That both knew that would never happen, but he was content in letting Alfred keep this dream of his. He was always dreaming, and some say that may be childish, but that’s what made him special. Matthew wanted this for Alfred, because if anyone could do the impossible, it was his brother.”

“Thanks for coming with me,” Alfred said, snuggling up to him like when they were kids. “You know, maybe Canadia isn’t so bad after all.”

“You’re a real comedian, Alfie.”

They went silent after that, enjoying each other’s company. Because at that moment, the world belonged to them. Not countries with problems coming at them left and right, just two brothers, peaceful and free from worry under a sky full of twinkling lights.

#hetalia #hws canada #hws america #alfred f jones #matthew williams #na brothers #na twins

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kornealla · 1 year

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Does anyone remember *those* Hetalia fans that used to draw personified versions of the post-Soviet countries as a one big happy family with Russia being “the father” (barf)? And the countries that now actively hate Russia as “the rebellious teenagers”? Or worse when they would make cringey comics/fanfics about the fall of the Soviet Union and turn into a fucking pity party for Russia and his “ex-friends” (colonies).

Why the hell did the fandom encourage that shit?

#when some of them started shipping their Georgia OCs with Russia<<<<#turning occupation and imperialism as a teehee joke about Russia just wanting friends <<<<<<<#portrayal of Ukraine and Russia as just rival siblings <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<#Hetalia #post-soviet countries

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sleeplessdreamer123 · 1 year

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Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, where Lucerys leaves Driftmark, leaving Aemond in charge)

Being the Lord of Driftmark also meant leaving Driftmark by ship to form alliances and relationships with different ports and countries of the realm. This also meant Lucerys leaving Aemond in charge of Driftmark while he's gone. This, in turn, meant complete and utter terror of servants, guards, the remaining merchants and captains alike.

Lucerys and Aemond were always together, they were two halves that very rarely leave each other's side. After their wedding, there was never a time anyone sees one without the other. And there is a very, very good reason for that.

Even as Lucerys waves goodbye, the servants, the guards, the remaining merchants and captains silently prayed for his extremely early return (or for there to be an accident so their Lord can return as soon as possible). Be it strong winds, smooth sailing, an easy alliance, (a war in the place he was meant to go, a possible leak on one of the ships, the gods themselves stopping him from leaving), anything, just please come back quickly (or don't leave at all!)!

Every single person on Driftmark knew of the unspoken rule. Never mention the absence of Lord Lucerys Velaryon anywhere near Lord Consort Aemond, ever. In the first years, it was relatively easy, especially for the servants, who made themselves scarce, and the guards, who's job was to guard silently. It was a harder time for the merchants and the captains, since their jobs needed his signature, his approval, and his words in the absence of Lord Lucerys. Their mere presence was a reminder in itself, and they did their best to get in and out of his meeting room as quickly as they could.

It got even more difficult when Lucerys gave birth to his children. Oh those sweet little children, cherubs that they are, turn into the most terrifying things once their mother leaves. Every time, every hour, the words, "Where is muña?", "When is muña coming back?", "Is muña coming back yet?", made it impossible for their Lord Consort Aemond to focus on his job of keeping Driftmark together when the Lord is away. The very mention of Lord Lucerys triggers Lord Consort Aemond in a way that has everyone walking on eggshells, and the fact that his children was the one reminding him, someone he can't exactly take his anger out on, meant he needed to redirect his fiery dragon rage. And who better to redirect it to than anyone he sees?

The servant who was walking down the hall? Instant berating for walking too slow and talking too loud. The merchant with papers that needed signing? A glare received with every paper he reads and signs, along with thinly veiled insults of either the hand writing, the scent of the paper, hells, the merchant almost had a heart attack once he realized the ink bottle was empty and the papers that needed signing were nowhere near done. And the squires and knights? His personal straw men, of course! Each fight was filled with fury, each attack caused bruise after bruise, and once they were finally done, instant berating again! For their stance, for their weak defense, while everyone watches with pity in their eyes.

And it got worse, infinitely worse, when a raven was received carrying a letter informing them that their ship had a problem and would need to stay for a few more days ("Good gods, when we asked for the ships to have problems, we meant have the problem here! In our docks! Here! So he needed to stay!")

He was particularly vicious, and the septas were practically begged by everyone to keep the children out of Lord Consort Aemond's sight, lest they began asking for their mother (and turning their lives into a living hell) again.

And when they finally (finally!) see a familiar ship returning to their docks, their hearts screamed with relief, knowing that Lord Consort Aemond will finally be normal again.

(And if they needed to poke certain holes on certain ships if a certain Lord was meant to leave, well, no one can blame them!)

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #alpha aemond #omega lucerys #married life #please don't leave lucerys!#lord Lucerys #Lord consort Aemond

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rose-and-thorn-fanfics · 1 month

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“Daughter of a Cop” a Stranger Things Fanfic (Part 3) TW: Sexual content

“So you’re… gifted.” Eva said. She sighed. Nothing surprised her at this point.

“You could say that. But more importantly, I’m wanted.” Nico said, his expression tired and his tone full of frustration. “I’ve spent all my life running from being a lab rat for the fucked up government this country has. But you don’t seem so surprised? Am I not the first gifted one you’ve met?”

“My little sister. Well… adopted sister. She’s like you but her powers are different. I don’t fully get how it works for her but it’s somewhat on the lines of telekinesis and telepathy. Like in x-men comics.”

Nico chuckled, glancing at Eva with amusement as he pulled into the gas station lot. “You read comic books?”

“Only a little….” Eva defended.

“Mhmmmm…” Nico looked unconvinced and continued to tease her til she fessed up.

“THEY’RE GOOD, ok? Professor X is hot.” Evangeline burst, finally.

“I always liked Magneto the best.” Nico responded, turning the car off and meeting her gaze. There was an awkward tension between them. Something electrifying. Eva’s hand placed on his hand, her thumb stroking his knuckles. “I’m really sorry about the way your boyfriend was treating you.” Nico said, looking sincere.

“Ex-boyfriend, now.” Eva corrected. She leaned in, using her other hand to brush away a strand of hair from Nico Perez’s face and pull him in gently for a kiss. His mouth felt good on hers. Gentle at first but increasingly more passionate. And his tongue… Eva let out a pitiful moan of ecstasy. She climbed over the middle console of the car that was separating them, carefully readjusting down into Nico’s lap. His hands caressed her body, avoiding sensitive bruised areas, and finding their way under her hospital gown.

There was something intoxicating about Nico Perez. And he didn’t have to use his powers to win her affection or lust. She knew he was trouble, but something in her gut told her he was a much better kind than Billy had been. His hands were now so close to her thong, sliding up higher and fingering her soft folds of skin with skill.

“Mmm Nico. Let’s not go home to my dad. Let’s get a room at the motel 6 down the road.”

“Your dad won’t like that.” Nico said, momentarily stopping to look her in the eyes with seriousness.

“He’s already going to be mad at me. Might as well give him a good reason.” Eva said, smirking.

“You need rest, babygirl.” Nico said. “After we fool around promise me you’ll get some sleep?”

“I promise.” Eva whispered. She moved back to her seat despite how turned on she was, so he could drive her to the Motel 6. The drive was only a few minutes but Evangeline could tell her driver was impatient to get there. Nico must’ve been equally as aroused by her making that move to straddle his legs and kiss him. Finally, they arrived. Nico gave her some clothes from his trunk that were a bit ill-fitting but was better than hospital gown attire. They checked in at the front desk and entered their room. Billy had taken Eva to this sort of place before, but never had she been as eager as she was now to take off her clothes for a man.

She undressed and watched Nick take off his shirt and belt. He paused, looking her up and down. “What an angel.” He smirked, advancing. Evangeline eyed the bulge in his pants greedily. He took off his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock.

The rest was a whirlwind as they made out passionately, climbing into bed and doing the dirtiest things Eva had ever done under the cheap stiff covers. After a full hour of sexual pleasure, Evangeline sighed and rolled over, exhausted and starting to hurt more in the areas Billy had beaten her. Nico kissed her and whispered something she didn’t understand in Spanish, pulling her body against his so she’d be warm and more comfortable. Eva sighed, drifting off to sleep. Hours passed. Morning light had just begun to peak through the stained curtains of the motel.

BANG. BANG. BANG. Someone was pounding on the room’s door. Nico shot up out of bed, dressing quickly, while Eva pulled the covers tighter around herself, too tired and weak to move.

“Police warrant. Open UP! I know you’re in there you sick motherfucker!!” Eva bolted up immediately when she heard the voice. She knew exactly who was banging on the door now.

“SHIT ITS MY DAD! How the heck did he find us???“

BANG. BANG. The door shook and threatened to give way.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Nico cursed, tossing Eva her clothes off the ground. There was one more bang on the door, and Nico Perez opened it up, completely changing in demeanor to a calm facade.

Jim Hopper had his fist raised, ready to bang on the door again, but lowered it in surprise when Nico Perez opened it.

“Hands up pretty boy. I understand you’ve got my daughter in there somewhere.” Jim said, showing his badge briefly before whipping out a gun.

Nico put his hands up but didn’t look concerned in the slightest. “Relax, man. You came alone? Didn’t bring her little sister, am I correct?”

Hopper seemed caught off guard by reference to El. He hadn’t brought El, it was true, but how did this man know about Eva’s sister?

Eva had finally gotten her clothes on. She crept up behind Nico. Hugging him from behind and peaking her face around him so her dad could see she was ok and had nothing against Nico. “It’s ok, Dad. Be cool. Nico and I are in love, isn’t that right?” She cooed, looking up at Nico innocently.

Surprise flashed across Nico’s face as he glanced at Eva, but it quickly morphed into a grin. “Yes, absolutely. She was going to introduce me to you tomorrow.” Nico explained. We just stopped for the night cause we got lost and needed directions.

“Ok, if things are really that ‘loving’ between you two… then explain to me why my precious Eva is bruised all over her face and arms?” Hopper said, anger boiling underneath a sarcastic tone.

Nico and Eva exchanged a look, trying to decide if the truth was believable enough. Finally, they both spoke simultaneously. “Billy.” As if that explained everything.

Surprisingly, Hopper lowered his gun a bit. “You mean that douchebag that you’ve been sneaking out to see and thought I didn’t notice? Billy Hargrove?” Jim said, pointedly.

“You KNEW? All this time?” Eva said, shocked.

“You really thought you’d sneak out of my house without me knowing? I only let you see him cause you’re technically an adult. Joyce said I have to let you make your own mistakes.” Jim said, his tone regretful. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with that Hargrove boy too, right?”

“Of course not.” Eva said, laughing a bit. “I learned my lesson with him. Nico saved me from that asshole.”

Both Nico and Hopper let out an audible sigh of relief. After a scrutinizing look, Eva’s dad put his gun back in its holster.

Nick offered his hand for a hand shake. Jim Hopper chuckled, not returning the gesture. “Don’t push your luck, kid. You’re still a wanted man in Indiana. Probably other places too. I’m not a police chief for nothing. You’ve got a lot to prove. Eva is special to me. If you want to be with her, start cleaning up your act.”

Nico smirked. “I understand, sir.”

“I’m going home with Dad.” Eva added. “But if you want to reach me here’s my phone number.” She rushed back into the motel room, writing it on the notepad by the phone on the night stand. “Let me know if you want to hang out. Im sure we’d have lots of fun—“

—Jim cleared his throat, displaying not so subtle irritation. “OK THATS IT, you’re coming with me, young lady.”

“See you Eva!” Nico called after her, grinning.

Little did any of them know, they would meet again sooner than later, and at a time of dire circumstances.

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sprnklersplashes · 1 month

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so long daisy may (ao3)

fanfic fundraiser

I'm sooo normal about natalie goodman, guys

The doorbell rings once, a sharp, trilling sound that breaks through the cool air. Natalie steps back, presses her clammy palms together, waits. A car passes by behind her, faint country musing fleeting in her ears. A slight breeze picks up the edge of her coat; it dances in the air before settling down. Natalie strains her ears for movement on the other side of the door.

She’s not coming, she realises. The house is quiet, she’s probably out, and this was a stupid idea anyway. Heat rushes to her cheeks, a pool opens in her belly that might be familiar if she let herself linger on it. She isn’t here, she thinks, and she starts to turn, shaking hands already reaching for her phone to tell Henry she’ll be home soon. Maybe later on, she’ll go on some self-pitying rant and curse that she ever thought of this.

Then, the door opens.

“Natalie.” She whirls. Her mom leans on the doorframe, smiling softly. She looks well, as she did the last time Natalie saw her. Younger, maybe. Less dark shadows beneath her eyes, actual colour in her cheeks. She looks like a person and not a ghost, and Natalie wonders if she’ll ever find it normal.

Slowly, she slides the phone back into her pocket.

“Didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I can-I can go,” she begins. “If it’s a bad-”

“Oh, no, of course not.” Diana-Mom-opens the door wider, her arms following suit in a way that makes Natalie feel like she’s waiting for a hug. She doesn’t reciprocate, but her mom isn’t deterred. With smile lines creasing her face, she gestures down the hallway. “Come on in. I’ll get the coffee.”

Natalie just stands, held in her spot by some external force. In that second, she becomes acutely aware of how not-real this feels; as if she is a drawing of a girl, rather than a human with a life before and after this. The thought takes her and pulls her into it, stops her from breathing, or thinking, or feeling the wind against her skin.

Then it’s over as soon as it started, and she’s following her mom down the hall.

She’s been in the house for a couple of years now. It was around the same time Nat graduated college, after multiple doctors decreed she was fit to live on her own. They’d had a little graduation party here once Mom got settled, her and mom and Dad and Henry, all sitting around the table with champagne and cheesecake. It was good. Natalie had laughed and smiled and it had been good.

There’s a picture of it, framed on the wall as she passes. The wallpaper is baby blue and covered in sketches of ivy.

“Black and two sugars?” Natalie blinks. They’d ended up in the kitchen and hovered by the island, Mom pulling two mugs and a jar of coffee out of the cupboard. It’s that half-filled jar, the label ripped slightly, that pulls her back into the present and she shakes her head, pressing her thumbnail into her palm.

“I-I’m okay, Mom,” she says. Diana frowns slightly, a quick movement of her brows, but thankfully, she doesn’t press. Or maybe Natalie wants her to, because what she has to say is burning in the back of her throat and she spent the drive here wondering how the hell to bring it up.

As her mom spoons coffee into her mug and lays cookies out on a plate, Natalie pulls at the nails on her left hand, then clumsily pulls at her right. She pulls her sleeves over her arms. It’s just the two of them, her and the woman who couldn’t judge her if she tried. Theoretically, this is the place it should be easiest. That was her logic in coming; if she can say it here, she can say it anywhere. But then why are the words so stubbornly stuck inside her?

She feels nauseous. There’s two explanations for it.

“Mom?”

“Yeah.”

She closes her eyes. Breathes out. Opens them. Just fucking say it, Nat.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words ricochet around the room. The mug tumbles from Diana’s hands, catches on the side of the table before it clatters to the floor. Jagged white shards scatter across the tiles, the coffee splaying out around it.

Buried instincts jump to the surface, and suddenly Natalie’s skin is bristling, her nerves alive and sparking, braced for whatever she has to do next. Hold her mom back, call 911, drive her to the hospital. There’s no sense of unfairness, not yet, just her steady heartbeat and this feeling that whatever is about to happen will happen, and she’ll be the one to deal with it.

Until, it turns out, she’s not.

Diana bends down carefully. She gives Natalie a reassuring smile as she does, a silent gesture that seems to mean “I’ve got it, it’s okay”. Her palm is covered with a white-and-red check towel, and from her place at the table, Natalie watches as she carefully picks up each piece and places them on the towel. They click softly against each other, unaware of the way they set Natalie’s being ablaze. She keeps watching, waiting for her turn to jump in, for it to turn dangerous and to have to take on another burden that will eventually make her resentful. Somehow, the waiting feels worse than the crisis.

Her mom wipes up the spilled coffee, throws the soaked paper towels in the trash and turns back to her. She lays her hands on the table then slowly nods.

“You’re pregnant?” she asks. Natalie twitches. The words sound so strange in her mother’s mouth. They’d sound strange in any voice that isn’t hers or Henry’s, but hearing them from her mother, and hearing them this early, twists something deep inside her.

“Yeah,” she replies quietly. “We uh… we found out a few days ago.” She looks down at her boots, the loosely tied laces and the scattering of mud on the toes. “We did about three tests and they all came back positive.”

“Oh.”

“Henry wants to go to the hospital as well,” she goes on. “Just to make it official but I-” She sighs again, rakes her hand through her hair, and shakes her head. “I don’t get it. I mean I’ll do it and we’ll need to go eventually but I don’t get it.” A small grin tugs at her lips then, even as she scoffs around it. “Sentimental.”

“Do you want to be pregnant?” her mom asks.

With a steady exhale, Natalie lowers her hands to the table, mirroring her mother’s pose. The question doesn’t catch her off-guard; it’s the reason she came here. One minute she was looking at another positive test, giggling to herself. Then she thought about her mom for one second and she was in the car.

For the first time in her life, the one person she wanted to see was Diana Goodman.

In her peripheral vision, her mom’s hair flashes beside her. Her hand sits on the table beside Natalie’s, tentative, waiting, unsure.

“Nat?” she asks again, lower this time. “Do you want to be pregnant?”

Natalie looks down, scratches her wrist. It is, in some ways, an easy question to answer, because when she saw that test she laughed out loud and she and Henry spent hours just laughing and grinning and muttering ‘holy shit’ over and over again.

Then she was left to her own devices for an hour. When Henry came back, she was shaking in the corner of the bathroom, screaming at him to leave her alone.

“I’m…” She swallows. “I’m scared, Mom.”

Her mom doesn’t do what most moms would do. She doesn’t sigh softly and fold her into a hug, stroke her hair and tell her everything will be okay. She doesn’t chase away her fears with a kiss on the forehead.

What she does is nod, and let out a long, steady breath. Begrudging awareness sits between them, mutual understanding that only they could share. Because really-why wouldn’t Natalie be scared? She might not be a child; freshly turned 28, she might have a good job and a nice house and a partner who would climb over barbed wire for her. She’s in a better place than her mom was, than a lot of women are when they get this news.

And yet, she thinks, look at what else she has. Her mom’s words come back to her, still so clear after over a decade, “I see me in you”. Those words had cut her then, because how do you react to that? When the person responsible for everything you hate about yourself says that she’s somewhere in you? How can she want to be pregnant when buried in her DNA is the worst parenting blueprint suburbia has ever seen?

She chokes, and then the tears are gushing down her face. Beside her, her mom lays a hand on her shoulder, presses a tissue into her shaking hands.

“I wish I could say you didn’t have to be,” she sighs. “But really, what business would I have saying that?”

“Yeah,” Nat whispers. Her fingers shake; familiar anger she’s worked so hard to overcome now storms through her and she doesn’t even know why. All she knows is it’s more comfortable than fear. “After all, I’m you.”

That’s when she turns to look at her, the look of shock on her face visible even as her tears distort the picture before her. Diana grows more still, Natalie’s trembling grows, and then suddenly she’s not twenty-eight but sixteen, feeling like an intruder in her own house, living in the shadow of a brother she never knew.

Her mom looks like Nat just slapped her and Natalie hates herself for it. Natalie hasn’t been okay all week and she hates Diana for it.

“I’m you.”

“No,” Diana says. “You’re not.” Firm hands press down on her shoulders, holding her in place while her body tells her to run. Diana waits a little, until the tears clear out of her vision, and then she says again, “You’re not me.”

“Aren’t I?” she asks. “Mom, I’m a mess, and I’m angry, and I’m-”

“You’re alive,” Diana interrupts. “You feel things, even when they suck. You call yourself a cynic but you look at the world and you see what it is, not what it isn’t.” Her hands tighten on her shoulders, and Natalie can't breathe.

“You-you said I’m…” she swallows, breathes, tries to remember all the grounding techniques she’s been taught. “You keep saying it-”

“I know I do,” she replies. “And yes, Nat, you’re like me. But you’re also not. You got out. You’re turning it around. Look at everything you have right now that I didn’t. You keep on growing and that was…” She sighs, and it sounds bitter. “That was something I didn’t know how to do for a long, long time.” Diana shakes her head, blonde curls so similar to Natalie’s falling over her shoulders. “I’m not going to tell you not to be scared. I am going to tell you that being scared is proof you’re already doing it better than me.” One hand stays on Natalie’s shoulder, the other comes to rest over her heart. Natalie hears it beat, the frantic thump-thump-thump beneath her mother’s palm. “You’re alive, Nat. You’re trying.”

“But I don’t know what to do.” She sniffles. It’s unfair, but she says it anyway. “No-one showed me what to do.” Her mom sighs at that, regret cuts across her eyes and Natalie wants to scream. It was so easy when she could just hate her and leave it at that, when she was just a distant mom Nat couldn’t understand. But here,

“I know, Nat. I know,” her mom tells her. “But we showed what not to do, right?” She runs her hand through Nat’s hair. “So you’re already doing better than we were.”

Natalie freezes. Her whole body goes limp; were it not for her mom’s hold on her, she may have fallen to the floor. Isn’t that a first? All of a sudden, there’s something inside her slotting into place, two broken fragments she had never considered belonged together. They lock together, turn, and open something in her chest.

Her whole life, she’s only thought about what she didn’t have.

She breathes out, slowly. Second by second.

Diana pushes her hair back and Natalie doesn’t flinch. When she wipes her tears, she doesn’t pull away. Their eyes meet, reflections of each other, and Natalie can stand.

“You know what not to do,” her mom says again. “You know how to not be worse. Just go from there.”

“Just go from there,” Natalie repeats. Maybe it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but it does to her. And to Diana.

If this were a stupid sentimental movie, maybe Natalie would tell her she plans to name the baby Gabriel, but she won’t. Because this isn’t a movie and because she won’t saddle her kid with that history. She won’t grieve a boy she never knew and she won’t feel bad for it.

With one last squeeze, Diana goes and grabs the plate of forgotten cookies from the counter.

“Have you told your dad yet?” she asks.

“Not yet.” Natalie eases herself onto the chair and grabs a cookie from the plate. “He’s going to freak out.”

“Maybe you don’t need to tell him,” her mom says. “Maybe you can just get him a World’s Greatest Grandpa mug and let him figure it out.”

A laugh bursts out of her, so full and real and bright that it doesn’t feel real. She leans over the table, tucks one leg beneath the other, breaks her cookie in half. Tiny white crumbles stick to her fingers.

“Maybe,” she says, and for both of them, maybe is always good enough.

#next to normal #natalie goodman #diana goodman #next to normal fanfic #next to normal ff #natalie goodman ff

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