#did the world need this ship? no. did i write about it anyway? yes.
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Spite
I swore I wasn't going to ever post this one but have to decided to say "to heck with it" and put it up anyway. 😂 I have nothing to say for myself and apologize to Langris, Vanessa, Finral, and Finesse (whose situation I have just made all the more complicated than it already was in the canon 😅)...
Description: "Did you just kiss me out of spite?" Never in a million years would Langris have ever believed there was anything in the world that could have possibly led him to a moment in which that drunk witch would be saying those words to him. But somewhere between too many drinks making him honest and revelations from Finral regarding his relationship with Finesse drudging up something he had long kept buried, Langris lost his grip on his tightly guarded emotions and began to live the impossible. And Vanessa was not going to let him off so easy for it.
OR
There are a lot of very good reasons that Langris Vaude doesn't drink. This is the story of one of them.
Rating: T (For Language (including some crude insults), Drunkenness, and Descriptive Depiction of Kissing)
Warnings: Unhealthy Coping, Excessive Drinking, Drunkenness, Jealousy, Unhealthy Relationships, Language (including some crude insults), and Poor Decision Making
Fandom: Black Clover
Genre: Unrequited Love, Jealousy, Drunken Confessions, French Kissing, Friendship/Love, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Strained Friendships, Unexpected Friendships and Eventually Friendship Bonding and Hurt/Comfort. Definitely Canon-Divergent--AU.
Relationships: Vanessa Enoteca and Langris Vaude (Friends, Pairing, It's Complicated...so whatever you want honestly), (onesided) Langris/Finesse, (unconfirmed?) one-sided Vanessa/Finral, Finral/Finesse (have a happy and functional relationship that is mentioned here), Finral, Vanessa, & Langris friendship, Finral & Vanessa friendship, and Langris & Finral brotherly relationship
Characters: Langris Vaude, Vanessa Enoteca, and Finral Roulacase (Finesse Calmreich is mentioned)
Word Count: 2483
Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.
This story was inspired by something @delirious-donna said in a response to an ask of mine once about whether or not there's a universe where Vanessa had kissed both Finral and Langris. This is what I came up with for such a universe, and it wouldn't leave me alone until it was written.
Thank you for indulging me and reading!
Story below the cut:
“I’m sorry…you’ve what ?” hissed Langris through his teeth—his fingers beginning to shake as they curled around his nearly empty glass. He had lost track of how many drinks this was, but it was more than enough to make him feel woozy and agitated. Probably why his emotions were currently getting the best of him.
Finral blushed a beet-red and stared at his twisting, fidgeting hands. He swallowed hard before taking a long swig of the clear liquid swirling around in his glass. “Well…um…look…it’s really not that big of a deal…”
“Not a big deal?” Langris interjected, more forcefully than he had been intending.
“Boys. Boys. Calm down. You’re both pretty,” Vanessa teased—drunk and giggly—in what was clearly an attempt to defuse the tension. It didn’t work.
“When did this happen? Where was your chaperone?” he demanded—realising only after he had asked that he didn’t really want to know the answers to these questions.
Finral spluttered—his cheeks flaming, but he eventually stumbled, “We were outside—in her garden. The groundskeepers and servants were supposed to be keeping an eye on us, but they weren’t really watching. It wasn’t a long kiss. There wasn’t even any—” His brother stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Langris glaring daggers at him, positively infuriated and, due to copious amounts of alcohol, unable to even try to hide it.
He immediately pushed back from the bar—standing up to his full height and waving his finger in Finral’s face as his words slurred, “You…you rake! You cad! You… manwhore !”
“Hey!” interjected Vanessa pushing him back—causing him to teeter just a little in his drunken stupor and to remember exactly why he hated drinking. “That was uncalled for.”
With a mortified expression, Finral fidgeted, but he sighed, rubbing his temples in confusion. “I don’t understand, Langris. She’s my fiancée, and I just kissed her. You were engaged to her a lot longer than me—didn’t you ever…?”
“No,” Langris cut him off with a stern glare, though a blush rose quickly and infuriatingly in his cheeks. He scowled. “Unlike you, I actually have self-control.”
“For goodness sakes, Langris,” laughed Vanessa sloshing around her wine glass before refilling it for the umpteenth time. “Don’t be such a prude. So he kissed her—from all accounts chastely —it’s not the end of the world. It’s not Finral’s fault that you didn’t kiss Finesse when you had the chance.”
Langris’s face grew incredibly hot. He was sure it must be flaming red as he slammed his glass down on the bar counter and curled his shaking hands into fists. “That is not what this is about! I couldn’t care less about that.”
It was a bold-faced lie, and Langris was sure Vanessa knew it from the way she quirked her eyebrows at him. “They’re engaged to be married, Langris,” she said, pointedly meeting his eyes. “Of course they’re going to kiss. It’s really not a big deal.”
Despite being a blushy, flustered mess, Finral somehow managed, “Yeah, Langris. Really…it really wasn’t this big…”
“Oh really?” he spat—a fire rising in his chest as he cut his brother off. “Not a big deal, huh?” His legs began to shake as much as his hands which he unfurled and waved about in the flood of feelings he couldn’t even begin to stifle. His grip on his emotions was slipping farther and farther away, and his thoughts were quickly becoming an emotionally-charged, impulsive and intoxicated jumble. More concerning than that, however, was the fact he didn’t care in the slightest and just allowed them to spill into his movements, his expressions, his words… “Fine. I suppose if that’s true, you won’t mind if I do this—!”
Langris was sure he would’ve never performed the actions which followed if he hadn’t been completely and utterly drunk. He would have never leaned across the bar. Would have never flung his arms around Vanessa’s neck. Would have never pulled her flush against him. And definitely would have never pressed his trembling lips against hers. Even looking back on it, he could never be sure what exactly had been going through his head at the moment. It was entirely possible that for once in his life, it was completely and totally empty .
Only when he felt her startle and stiffen in shock and confusion, did his mind fill with realisation and panic, and he immediately felt overwhelmingly guilty and embarrassed. He pulled away from her—red-faced and ready to apologise, but she merely laughed at him with something sparkling in her eyes—disbelief? Amusement, perhaps?
“Did you just kiss me out of spite?”
Wondering if he had ever been quite so embarrassed, Langris descended into strange, indistinguishable flustered splutters and almost completely forgot to turn to look at the expression of utter horror on his brother’s face. After several deep breaths that did very little to calm him down, Langris bristled and a frown spread between his crimson cheeks. “Well…I…”
Rather than smack him, as he was sure he probably deserved for that indecent display, Vanessa snaked her arms around his neck. He could have sworn he saw her glance over at a bewildered Finral before she turned her attention back to him with a wink—her mouth twitching in amusement with a low, flirtatious, “That was a good try, baby. But you’re so stiff—it’s like kissing a brick wall.” Chuckling, she winked at him again and licked her lips. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
Langris swallowed hard as she tangled a hand in his hair and stroked his cheek with the other. Her gaze was focused, intense enough to make him shiver, before her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted his chin towards her—stopping a mere breath away from his lips. He supposed he deserved to be teased like this, after having kissed her like that, and he was about ready to pull away with a scowl on his face that he was sure must be blushing furiously, when she cupped his chin in her hand and whispered, “It’s about the anticipation.”
“Va…Vanessa…” Finral squeaked—his voice cracking like a lovesick schoolboy, in protest. Vanessa had such a soft spot for his brother—surely, she wouldn’t kiss him after that, Langris thought, even if she wanted to teach him a lesson. But he was wrong.
Her lips were soft as they first brushed against his, but they quickly turned frantic, coaxing and, dare he even admit it, fiery . He nearly yelped as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and felt her tongue dart into his mouth as soon as he parted his lips enough for it to slip through. What the actual hell?
Though he hadn’t the slightest clue what was going on, or where this fire—this spite, perhaps—of hers was even coming from, he wasn’t about to let her have this power play, and he poked at her tongue with his own—eventually darting around it to her lips—a bit chapped and winey as he ran his tongue across them, causing her mouth to curve into a smile.
“You Vaude boys really have no idea what to do with your hands, do you?” she teased as she pulled away just enough to catch the warm breath that brushed up against his skin. Langris frowned, following her gaze to his hands which were frozen—like rigid and awkward claws in front of his chest. He might be drunk and clueless about what was going on, but he wasn’t about to admit she was right. “You can put them in my hair if you want. Or around my neck.”
“That is enough!” insisted Finral who was probably even redder than Langris was, which was saying a lot. “I am never going to unsee that! Alright, Langris, you were right. It was a big deal, and I’m sorry.”
Despite his complete and utter embarrassment, Langris couldn’t help but feel a bit smug about seeing his brother admit defeat and grovel like this. Vanessa, however, seemed intent on adding insult to injury and continued, “That was good though. I especially liked what you did with your tongue.” She winked at him, and Langris’s stomach coiled as his cheeks burned. What in the world was wrong with this woman? He knew she was touchy feely but goodness! Was she in the habit of kissing men she barely knew in this way?
Wait… The thought gave him pause and though his mind was clouded, something began to click in it. “Have you kissed my brother too?”
With a hum, Vanessa’s mouth twitched into a teasing smile, “Yes. Want to know who was better?”
Langris cleared his throat—blushing furiously. That hadn’t been his intention in asking.
“It’s not a competition!” Finral stammered, clearly flustered in drunken ramblings. “And besides, that was my first kiss. I’ve gotten a lot better at kissing since then so it wouldn’t really be a fair comparison.”
“My hair got caught on your earring. I’m going to say Langris wins just for that,” teased Vanessa, and Finral frowned. “Though if you’d like to try again, be my guest…”
Flushing, Finral shivered and spluttered before declaring in a shaking voice, “I am…I am in a relationship! Lady…Lady Finesse is the only…the only one…! I’m not going to kiss anyone that isn’t her anymore!” He nodded though his face swiftly grew splotchy with flushes of pinks and beet red. “O…Okay?” he asked, and Langris couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to convince himself more than him and Vanessa. Langris scowled. He knew Finral had issues with commitment, but this was just ridiculous.
It seemed Vanessa also thought so, as she huffed—rolling her eyes before finishing another glass of wine. “Fine,” she replied through her teeth as she poured a shot of something clear and swirling for herself and downed it as well. Something in her expression made Langris’s stomach twist.
“Goo—good! That’s settled then.” Finral swallowed hard. “Let’s just agree to never talk about this again, okay?”
Vanessa nodded, and Langris, in his mortification, wasn’t about to argue. Finral rubbed his head. “I think I need to lie down. I’m gonna be so hungover tomorrow…” He stumbled over to one of the long, leather benches in the restaurant’s waiting area, and it wasn’t long before his groggy, disgruntled mumblings about being “scarred for life” drifted into steady, deep breathing and quiet snores.
Vanessa poured herself another shot—before returning to wine which seemed to be her liquor of choice, if Langris had to venture a guess. He, however, decided to cut himself off before he did something else he’d no doubt regret as soon as he was sober again. He swallowed hard. “Look, Vanessa…”
“Don’t worry about it,” she cut him off with a wave of her wine glass. “It’s fine. Besides, you’re a good kisser.” She winked at him. “Though I suppose Finral’s right in that it isn’t fair to compare you since that was his first—” She paused, Langris presumed, noticing the bright flush of red that filled his cheeks as he fidgeted uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything, but clearly he didn’t have to. “Oh… shit… ” She sunk down in her seat and shook her head, setting her wine aside in favour of something stronger.
Langris pursed his lips and swallowed hard. He supposed there was a cruel sort of irony to it—the way he always played second fiddle to his brother in this regard. The universe seemed intent on forcing them to share things—particularly in matters of the heart. “Not my plan, believe me...” he mumbled, but whether it was in response to himself or Vanessa, he wasn’t entirely sure.
“That was bold for a first kiss,” she chuckled. “But I guess jealousy and alcohol will make you do that…” Her voice trailed before she sighed and shrugged her shoulders with a sympathetic smile. “If I had known, I would’ve never…”
“It’s fine,” Langris interrupted. “It’s my fault anyway.” He swallowed hard—her words suddenly registering through the haze of alcohol. “And I’m not jeal—” As she crossed her arms and tilted her head pointedly at him, however, he stopped. Shaking his head, he decided it was best not to try to argue with her, and instead he merely sighed and ruffled his hand through his hair before changing the subject, his curiosity getting the better of him. “So you were my brother’s first kiss, huh? Was he yours?”
Vanessa nodded, and Langris could’ve sworn there was a bit of an uncharacteristic tint of pink in her cheeks. “It didn’t mean anything. We were young, dumb, and drunk. It was sloppy and a mess and…”
“It’s stupid,” Langris cut her off abruptly with slurring words, and Vanessa’s brow furrowed.
“Huh?”
“That you’re jealous.”
Vanessa snorted a laugh under her breath as she reached for her wine. “Who said I was jealous?”
Langris blinked at her. “I may be plastered and inexperienced, but even I know you’re not really supposed to be kissed with such vitriol.”
“Well I’m sorry it wasn’t fun for you, but you’re the one who kissed me out of spite,” she bantered as she crossed her arms.
“That’s not…well…that is…uh…” Langris stumbled over his words before he glanced over in Finral’s general direction to make sure his brother was, in fact, fast asleep. Still, Langris lowered his voice, just to be safe. “Look, I didn’t just kiss you because you happened to be here. My brother’s always been a little bit in love with you. If you wanted him, you could have him…in an instant.” Langris scoffed with a somewhat bitter shake of his head. “He’d probably thank you.”
“You have such a dismal view of Finral. He’s engaged to Finesse. They’re happy.”
Something twisted in Langris’s chest. “You don’t think I know that?” he snapped, more loudly than he intended. Finral stirred on the bench where he had passed out but quickly sunk back into his deep sleep as Langris took a few breaths to regain enough composure to speak quietly again. “Look…I know—I know that better than anyone. But you’re not like me. If you really do love my brother, that’s something he could actually return . But I…Finesse could never—“ Langris stopped abruptly, something panging in the ache in his chest. He swallowed hard, and his eyes and throat burned. “Sorry…I didn’t…didn’t mean to…” he began to stumble, but before he could finish, Vanessa poured a drink and slid it across the bar counter for him.
“It’s okay…” Her face softened with something kind, empathetic, perhaps even a little sorrowful as she met his eyes and patted his hand with a sympathetic, bittersweet smile. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
#langris vaude and vanessa enoteca#eventual langris and vanessa friendship bonding over unrequited love and hurt/comfort#but before that...it's complicated#did the world need this ship? no. did i write about it anyway? yes.#The House Vaude drama may be a soap opera but I promise I don't think the canon situation is this convoluted#these three should've never been allowed to drink together under the circumstances#further evidence of why Langris Vaude does not drink#I promise I'm not advocating for this kind of unhealthy coping and poor decision making#please don't try this at home folks.#lots of unrequited love here#langris vaude x vanessa enoteca#vanessa enoteca x langris vaude#vanessa x langris#langris x vanessa#vanessa enoteca#langris vaude#finesse calmreich#finral roulacase#(mentioned) finral x finesse#langris vaude x finesse calmreich#vanessa enoteca x finral roulacase#finessa#langris x finesse#finral x vanessa#spatial mage brothers#please don't take this seriously#black clover fanfiction#can acacia write romance? let's see...#i have no idea how to tag this--i'm sorry#i have nothing to say for myself
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Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3
yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader
cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au
note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order!
[lunar love hotel]
You’re writing a paper.
Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.
Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.
“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”
“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”
“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”
“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”
Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”
“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”
“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”
“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”
Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”
Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”
“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—
You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”
“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”
You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…
Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.
Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.
Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.
But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.
Still, you wonder…
“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”
He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”
Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.
“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”
Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.
“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”
You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.
You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?
Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.
“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”
Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”
You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.
“We’ve got time…”
Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.
#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere scaramouche#yandere scaramouche x reader#n/sfw#tw: dubcon#tw: forced pregnancy#tw: babytrapping#lunar love hotel 2023
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The Only Way... (District Mentor!Aemond Targaryen x Tribute!reader)
(first Aemond pic was found on tumblr and edited by @kyloremus)
AN: Huge shoutout to @valeskafics for inspiring my HoTD x Hunger Games stories. Without her, I would never even have thought to connect the two. Highly HIGHLY recommend her writing!
- Also, yes, I did pick a random HoTD name for the male tribute, sue me -
Summary: There were only two past winners from your district, and one of them didn’t even bother with his mentor duties anymore. But this year, for one last time, Aemond decides to attempt to mentor one of the tributes, not expecting how it would change his life.
Word count: 6.5k
Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, slight age gap (I made the reader a couple years younger than him for story purposes), vague p in v s*x, oral f receiving, mentions of blood, discussions of death, discussions of trauma, discussions of disfigurement, (please let me know if I missed any)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)
Aemond Targaryen was reaped for the Hunger Games in his first year of eligibility. At 12 years old he had been shipped into the arena, and he had won. Though he had lost an eye in the process, he deemed it a worthy sacrifice for getting out alive. He had been responsible for half the cannons that sounded in the arena, had gotten his revenge for the eye taken from him, and had emerged the victor. He strongly believed the world was against him at every turn, (how else does one explain getting reaped and losing an eye?) but he knew that he was strong enough to fight back against fate.
The first couple of years after his victory, he had attempted to mentor tributes alongside his own mentor, Rhaenys Velaryon. But each one had met their own gruesome end in the arena and eventually he had given up on his duties altogether, much preferring to stay in his home at the victor’s village with his family.
It’s not that he wasn’t a good mentor, he truly believed he taught them a decent amount in the short time he had with them, and that allowed them to live longer than they would have without him, but they all lacked his ruthlessness. He had a certain cold-hearted quality that allowed him to kill without batting an eye in the arena, and he could happily admit to it. Every single victor had either gone in with that quality already bred in their veins or they had built it in the arena. He wasn’t sure which side he fell on, but he knew he possessed it. After two or three years of watching kids he had gotten to know, most older than him, die at the hands of others who had been just like him, he had gotten tired and decided to step away. He knew Rhaenys could handle it, she had been doing it much longer than him anyway.
But this year, something felt different. Maybe it was the long speech his mother had given him about doing his duty, regardless of his own feelings. Maybe it was the thought that it was the last year of eligibility for his brother Daeron and he wanted to be there to ensure that if he was reaped he would at least have a mentor he knew. Whatever it was, he decided he would attempt mentoring one last time and do his utmost to make his tribute a victor.
A part of him was worried to start showing his face in public again. Though he was used to his eyepatch and he didn’t shy away from venturing out of the house if need be, this would put him directly in the limelight once more after many years. Everyone in Panem knew he wore an eyepatch, everyone in Panem had seen the initial wound he had been dealt, but he had kept away from the scene for so long that he felt self-conscious about his appearance. People would stare, people would be horrified, and- and he would just have to deal with it anyway.
On reaping day he put on his best suit, a beautiful two-piece made of fabrics of black and dark green and ventured into the square with his mother on his right arm and his sister on his left. He didn’t say a word to either as they entered the space and he left them to go stand near the back of the stage. Old memories of his own reaping day were flooding back in. The nervous energy that had thrummed through him, the sudden stillness of his body when they had called his name, his mother screaming and sobbing, pleading for it to be anybody else. Aemond closed his eyes and swallowed, ignoring the sudden pain that throbbed where his eye should be. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked across to where Rhaenys stood on the other side of the stage.
She was staring out at the gathering crowd with a blank face. Her hair was neatly braided at the top then flowed down her back in a white similar to his own. They were relatives, somehow, he could never quite remember the relation. He could see the signs of age on her face now, the wrinkles around her mouth had multiplied since she had last been here with him. Her dress was a deep blue, matching her eyes, and covered her arms until her wrists. He knew she bore scars on those arms from her own fight in the arena, but he felt a bitter pang of jealousy at how easily she was able to hide them. He would never have that luxury.
Aemond waited as the bustling died down and everyone was gathered in the square. He could see the lines of peacekeepers all over, their guns shining in the watery sunlight. He could see his brother standing among the men, a shock of white hair in a sea of brunettes and blondes. He wanted to smile at Daeron, to try and reassure him somehow that everything would be alright, but that was a lie and he would never be able to promise him that. Instead he looked away and began searching for his mother’s and sister’s faces as the anthem played and the formalities ensued. They were harder to find, but eventually he spotted his mother standing next to a girl in an emerald green dress. It was you.
Aemond was shocked for a moment to see that colour in the crowd. Everyone else was dressed in varying shades of grey, with the odd yellow popping out from somewhere in the crowd. Even his mother was more unique than most by wearing a completely black outfit, but you stood out like a flare. The dress was made of some satiny material and shined in the light. It was a relatively modest dress, with a collared neckline and short sleeves, the hem falling below the knee, but it was so… green.
Aemond stared at you, at your pretty hair and apprehensive eyes, posture straight but so tense he was sure your muscles must hurt. This must have been your last year of eligibility as well, he thought, you looked to be about Daeron’s age. Your name was populating that bowl, just as Daeron’s was, and he could understand the dread. You were so close to freedom, but if fate decided to be against you today, there was nothing you could do but face it.
“Alright! It’s now time to pick one young man and woman for the honour of representing this district in the next annual hunger games! Our courageous young man will be…” the brightly dressed capitol man reached his hand into the bowl and began mixing it around. Aemond silently prayed to the seven that he would accept anything, even his name being pulled again, as long as it wasn’t Daeron. He didn’t want to see the pain on his mother’s face if her youngest child was reaped. He didn’t think he could stand idly by if they picked Daeron. “Jasper Wylde! Come on up!” There was a moment of commotion as people looked around to try and find the unfortunate boy and eventually he stepped warily out onto the path made for the tributes. The capitol attendant clapped happily but no one joined in, watching with morose faces as he walked up to the stage and stood beside the bowl full of male names.
First Aemond breathed a sigh of relief. He truly did feel like smiling this time because Daeron was free. His family was finally free. They could live in their house in the victor’s village on his salary and die peacefully, a luxury. Then a wave of solemnity washed over him once more and he bowed his head slightly. He knew what it felt like to be reaped, he knew with what hatred that boy now stared at the bowl full of names, wondering why it was him and not the thousands of other names piled in there. No one should celebrate at this moment, a child was still being sent to his death.
“And now, last but not least, the ladies…” the representative hopped across the stage and shoved his hand into the other bowl. He swirled it around a few more times than he did for the boys, then picked a piece of paper right from the bottom. He slowly peeled it open and you could hear the way the paper stuck together slightly in the silence. “Y/n L/n!” Murmurs again filled the crowd but Aemond knew exactly who it was. You were the only one that didn’t move. People began turning and looking but you stood still. His mother gently rested a hand on your shoulder, whispering something in your ear. You turned to look at Alicent then tipped your head down in a swift nod. Then, back straight and head held high, you stepped through the crowd and onto the path.
You were a sight to behold. A girl in green striding down the path. A bright spot of paint on a white background. Aemond hadn’t realised his breath was held in his chest. Somewhere in the distance he could hear weeping, but you didn’t turn back. You stared at the stage and kept walking until you stood beside the capitol representative. It was only when you had gotten near that Aemond realised he could see your lip wobbling, that your hands shook like trees in a storm and tears made silent, shiny, tracks down your cheeks.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, here are our district’s tributes! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour…”
In the time the tributes were given to say their goodbyes to their families, Aemond took the opportunity to make his own farewells. He had already said goodbye to his father and Aegon who had stayed behind at the house during the reaping ceremony. His father was too ill to leave the house and it was Aegon’s turn to stay behind in case peacekeepers came asking for the health declaration. Though Aemond knew this wouldn’t happen as they were all here, and it gave Aegon a good excuse to laze around the house.
Helaena, Daeron, and his mother had been sad to see him go, though they took comfort in the knowledge that if no one else, at least he would return. Helaena shed a tear as she hugged him, making him promise to eat well and stay strong. Daeron’s goodbye was quicker, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t want Aemond to see him upset or because he wanted to go celebrate his newfound freedom. He hugged Aemond quickly then dragged Helaena off to home, chattering to her about something or other.
Aemond watched his siblings walk away then turned to his mother who watched him with sombre eyes. She was silent for a moment, then reached out and gently folded his hands between hers. She looked down at them then back up at him with a sniff and he wondered if she was about to start crying.
“Take care of her, Aemond,” she finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Until the end, you must take care of her.” Alicent looked him in the eyes until he nodded before squeezing his hands lightly. She pulled him into a hug and gently rubbed his back. “She needs you, Aemond, and if anyone can help her, it will be you. Leave that boy to Rhaenys, hm? She can handle him, and he will do what he will regardless. But Y/n has potential to win. People may not see it, but I believe, and only you can get her there.” Alicent let him go and stepped back, blowing a kiss to her son and beginning to walk away.
“Wait, mother-”
“Time to go,” the capitol representative came up beside him and clasped his shoulder but Aemond was quick to shove him off. He couldn’t threaten a capitol citizen, but gosh was he close.
Aemond still had so many questions for his mother but he was being herded toward the train and she had disappeared among the buildings. He let out a sigh of dejection and allowed himself to be brought onto the train, sitting down in the lavish room and pressing his head into his hands. The eyepatch was digging into his skin and he just wanted to rip it off and itch at his scars. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want to look at what was underneath, and he didn’t want anyone else to walk in while his face was completely bare. So he pulled the leather away just slightly and scratched at the edges then let it snap back into place. He stared at the floor as he tried to sort out the pieces in his head and come up with a plan. He always had to have a plan. That’s how he survived his first games, and that’s how he would survive his last.
The doors to the compartment opened and Rhaenys walked in, her dress swishing around her ankles. He stood to greet her and she smiled, a small dejected thing that was as pathetic as he felt. She walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of sweet alcohol. He remembered the taste from his first train ride, sickly sweet to the point of pain then fiery as it slipped down your throat. One taste had been enough for his whole life.
“I see you’ve returned to your duties,” Rhaenys said, voice full of mirth as she sipped from her glass. Aemond nodded, watching as she sat down on a plush velvet chair. He followed suit, sitting opposite her across an ornate glass coffee table.
“Yes, one last time,” Aemond replied simply, turning away from her to stare out the window as the train began to move. “I have a request, concerning the tributes.”
“Oh?” Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, lips pulling up into a smirk as she brought the glass to her lips to drain the rest of her drink. “Do tell.”
“I will solely mentor Y/n, and you can take charge of the boy,” Aemond said, lacing his fingers together in his lap.
“Why?” Rhaenys furrowed her brows and put the glass down on the coffee table.
“It will be easier on everyone, focus all your energy on one tribute and do what you can to get them to win.,” he shrugged, as if the answer had been there all along.
“Yes I know that, but why do you want to mentor her?” Rhaenys asked, and he went quiet, staring at her as he tried to think of his answer. All his mind conjured was the image of you walking to the stage, the green dress and the tear tracks.
“I’m sure you see the potential in the boy. He has muscle, he has experience from the mines which means he already has the brute strength that can be honed with skill, but I see potential in her. I’d like to see what I can do with it.” He stared directly into Rhaenys’ eyes and sat up straight.
Aemond believed what he said. If his mother saw potential in you, then so did he. He would do what he could to get you ready for the games, then he would do whatever he could to help you survive in the arena. The world was always against him, but if there was one thing he knew, it was how to survive. Now, he would make sure you did too.
“Alright, have it your way,” Rhaenys shrugged, and this time Aemond allowed himself to smile.
Aemond and Rhaenys walked through three train compartments before they found the tributes. You were sitting at the right wall on a purple velvet sofa, legs curled up under you, staring out of the window. Jasper was busying himself at the bar and the air was heavy with silence. Both of you refused to acknowledge the other, and Aemond cleared his throat to draw your eyes to him. You merely raised your eyes to them while Jasper made to rush around the bar as if they had caught him doing something he shouldn’t.
“Oh don’t stop on our account, it’s only right you drink what you will before you die,” Rhaenys smiled genially, and Jasper had enough sense to look sheepish. “Alright, you come with me, I’ll be your mentor,” she pointed to Jasper then motioned for him to follow her before walking back out of the room. Jasper hesitated, looking around as if he was unsure what the protocol was, but Aemond just motioned his head to where Rhaenys had disappeared and Jasper jogged after her.
The room was quiet again. You had returned to staring out of the window, and Aemond slowly made his way over to the sofa you were sitting on. He left a seat between you and sat down, only turned slightly toward you. You finally tore your eyes away from the landscape and looked at him and he could see how red and puffy they were. Red veins crawled over the whites of your eyes and your nose was shiny and a pang of something painful hit his chest.
“Did you get to say goodbye?” He asked quietly, lacing his hands together in his lap. You nodded, gulping and opening your mouth once, twice, before a croaking voice spoke.
“Yeah,” you cleared your throat before speaking again, “I only have my parents so… it was a quick goodbye.” Your lower lip began trembling and your whole face crumpled as you began to sob once more.
Aemond had seen tributes cry before, it was normal, but not this much. By the time they got on the train they usually gathered themselves up and began trying to concoct a plan. But you, you seemed to be completely lost to despair. Your face was the picture of pain, and you brought your knees up to your chest and rocked yourself slightly. His mouth turned down in pity.
“My mother bought me this dress,” you finally said through the tears, voice slightly blubbery and high-pitched as you began breathing in to calm yourself. You looked up to meet his eyes and he could barely make out your irises through your crinkled lids and the heaps of water pouring over your lashes. “She wanted to get me something special for my last year in the reaping and she spent a whole salary on the fabric. She toiled night after night, coming home from work to painstakingly stitch every piece together.” You gently caressed the fabric and smiled through the tears and somehow this sight was so much worse than the frown. Aemond’s chest clenched so tight he thought his heart might stop beating altogether. You let out a huff of a chuckle, a watery sound that was quickly followed by a sniffle as you pressed your hands to the fabric before looking up at him and directly into his eyes. Your own were open now, wide as they could go, serious as they could be.
“I know I can’t win. You know I can’t win. Everyone who watched the reaping knows I can’t win. I’m a girl who’s only skill is dressing pretty. So, Aemond Targaryen, tell me what to do?” You looked at him in earnest, as if he held all the answers, and for a moment Aemond began to question what his mother saw in you. What was this potential she spoke of? All he saw was a weak little girl who couldn’t even be bothered to believe in herself. But then he remembered your walk up to the stage, the strength with which you had held yourself even while you had cried. Now he understood what his mother wanted him to do.
“You think you can’t win.” He turned to fully face you and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “There’s more to the games than just surviving the arena. You’re good at looking pretty? Then you’ll survive the parade, you’ll excel at the interview, you’ll get sponsors and I’ll be able to help you for longer in the games with that. Not everything is about brute force and murderous intent. You’ll have some time to train before going into the arena, we can use it to teach you a few things. Don’t think about winning, just try surviving,” he watched you as he spoke, noting the way you seemed to breathe easier and your eyes seemed to lighten slightly. Your hands stopped trembling and you uncurled from around your knees, instead spreading your toes out over the plush fabric.
“Ok,” you breathed out, “I can try,” you affirmed, nodding to yourself, and he allowed you a small smile before becoming sombre again.
“I won’t lie to you, you will have to do things in the arena that will haunt you if you manage to make it out. The games are designed to turn you into an animal. Even if you go in there without the intention of killing, no one comes out unscathed. So, the real question isn’t about if people believe you can win. Are you willing to do what it takes?”
Aemond had thought about all the people he had killed for a long time. He remembered every detail about them, from district and family history to what they had looked like the moment life had finally drained from their eyes. He often thought about his final victim, the only person he had gotten along with before they had entered the arena. He thought of the way she had grabbed his wrist and forced the knife into her own stomach, the way she had smiled as she fell to the floor, the eternal smile as the cannon sounded and her blood warmed his hand. The realisation that he was alone in the arena.
When he saw the smile on your face as you wiped at your tears and brought your feet off the couch, nodding your head and repeating the word yes until you seemed to believe yourself, he thought of the final girl.
When you reached the capitol, you were separated and attendants led you off to… somewhere. You were stripped bare and forced into a roiling bath filled with all sorts of serums and scents and oils. Your scalp was scrubbed until you could feel each individual hair follicle growing and your skin was pink. They cut and polished your fingernails and toenails and waxed you all over until your skin burned. You were moved onto your stylist who greeted you with kisses on your cheeks before whirling you around to scrutinise your body. He had a gentle smile, and conversed with you all the while you stood on a pedestal in the middle of his room. He told you about the dress he had made for you, all the jewellery available to you and how you had the next few hours to prepare yourself for the parade.
You allowed yourself to revel in this one luxury. You loved to dress up, to wear fancy clothes and beautify yourself whenever you could. The opportunities had been few and far between back home, despite your parents doing their best to provide you with them. Even if you were going to die in a few weeks time, at least you could enjoy the luxuries offered until then.
Ursa brought out a garment bag and one of his attendants rolled in three carts covered in jewellery one by one. Ursa hung the bag up right in front of you and zipped it open, to reveal the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. “I watched the reaping and just knew what I would make,” he whispered as both of you stared at it. You brought your hand to your mouth and stepped forward to touch the fabric.
The dress was dark green, like leaves in the deepest, darkest, part of a forest. A sweetheart neckline with off the shoulder straps that led into long swaths of tulle that would flow behind your arms. Rhinestones were sewn into the fabric almost at random to look like sunlight falling onto the fabric. It had a long train that you knew would drag behind you on the ground and force the carriage behind you to keep at a distance. You realised how he wanted to single you out. The organisers would keep everything symmetrical, so the long gap behind you would mean there was a long gap ahead of you too. Spectators would be drawn to the sight of you two taking up so much space. You would be the centre of attention.
Ursa helped you into the dress and set the sleeves for you as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. It truly was made for you, each measurement perfect. All the effort Ursa had put into this… you began to tear up but he just hushed you and began fussing over the jewellery carts. He suggested putting a tiara on you but you were hesitant. It felt presumptuous to already wear a crown at the tribute parade.
“Darling,” he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look into his eyes. “Act like you’ve already won. Nothing else will make it easier, and nothing else will grab their attention more.” He slid the comb of the tiara into your hair and forced you to hold your head up high.
In the next few hours, you were draped with necklaces and bracelets and rings. Just before you were helped up onto the carriage, Aemond appeared at your side. You looked up at him and for a moment he didn’t say a word. He just stared at you, at the dress and the crown and the whole picture of finery. You couldn’t read what was in his eyes and you looked down nervously, trying not to shuffle back out of embarrassment.
“You look like a winner,” he finally said.
When training started, your confidence began to wane. You watched all the other tributes heft axes, shoot arrows, slice swords or destroy dummies with their bare hands. You watched other tributes practice building traps or gain strength in their legs for running. It felt like you were the only one starting from rock bottom. You wanted to yell at Aemond, to say “look! Look at my glaring lack of ability! Whatever belief you had in me must be dead!” But everyday he came back, dressed in black athletic wear ready to teach you something new.
He didn’t bother with any weapon bigger than a dagger, telling you it would only weigh you down. He made you run until you were sick for the first half of every day, then run some more. The second half was spent learning how to use the simplest of supplies to make traps or alarms. He would use rope or wire with a handful of leaves he had gathered from outside the facility. He taught you about plants and water sources and made you list every possible terrain and the best possible strategy to handle it before you could leave for the day.
Despite the intense rigour with which he attacked your training, he was endlessly patient. He listened to every complaint before forcing you back onto the treadmill. He rubbed ointment on your fingertips after you cut them on the wire but made you rebuild the trap. He made sure you ate a full meal but quizzed you about everything he taught you while you sat together. And on the nights when you missed home, when the world felt like it was ending and your mind could only play the sight of your mother’s face crumpled with tears, the sound of your father crying, he held you and whispered stories of history long past into your ears until you slept.
He had so quickly become everything to you. At times you thought about how only a little while ago he had been nothing but an image on a screen, a name whispered around town, and now he was your comfort, your nourishment, your whole life, your very soul. You tried to imagine doing this without him, and you simply couldn’t. You knew you would have given up a long time ago if he had not been there to carry you through.
As the time to enter the arena crept closer and closer, the training got harder and harder. It was on a particularly difficult day that you returned from the facility and began rummaging in your closet for your reaping day dress. You hugged it as you slept sometimes, imagining that you could still smell the faint scent of your mother’s perfume on it. But it wasn’t there. You threw out every scrap of cloth that the capitol had provided for you, opened every drawer and pawed through every nook and cranny like a desperate mouse searching for food. It was nowhere to be found.
Aemond heard all the noise coming from your room and decided to venture in to figure out what was wrong. He found you sitting on the floor in a pile of underwear and training gear, hair still wet from the shower and tears streaming down your face. You were sobbing quietly, shoulders hunched forward and body bobbing slightly with every hiccuped breath. Your hands were clenched in the clothes you were surrounded by and he could see the chaos that had occurred. Aemond knelt down beside you and gently unclasped one of your hands from the clothes.
“What’s happened?” He asked quietly, softly touching each one of your fingertips where they were still red from working with the metal wire.
“My dress is gone,” you whispered hoarsely, looking up at him with big teary eyes. You looked like a child then, the way Daeron had when he used to fall down outside the house and cry until mother soothed his cuts and bruises. Aemond reached up and collected a tear with his thumb.
“They must have taken it for a wash, I’ll call down and find it,” he soothed, wiping the tear on his pants before repeating the gesture on your other cheek.
You continued to stare up into his eyes, and he let go of your hand to cup your cheek. He moved closer until his nose gently touched yours. You closed your eyes and waited, feeling his breaths brush over your lips. You waited and waited but he still didn’t kiss you. You opened your eyes again and he was staring at your face with such pain, such sadness that it crushed something in your chest.
Aemond had never felt such guilt for loving someone. He had happily loved his family and happily loved the one girl who had kissed him while they were still in school (though that had ended quickly). But here, with you, he felt the crushing weight of helplessness as he looked upon your face. He loved you, yet he could do nothing to get you out of this. He loved you, yet all he could give you were a few days, a few kisses, mere moments before everything was thrown into the air.
You leaned forward and slid your hands into Aemond’s hair. You pressed your lips to his mouth and gently kissed him then pulled away. You did it once more, staying just longer than a peck then pulling back. Then he was kissing you, pressing his tongue into your mouth and leaning over you so your neck tilted back. The tip of his nose pressed into your cheek and he kissed your lips like they should be cherished.
You pulled away and caressed his cheek, smiling then gently bumping his nose with yours. He smiled back, huffing out a sad little chuckle. You pressed your nose and mouth to his cheek and kissed him before mumbling against his skin.
“Thank you, for everything.”
It was your final night. Tomorrow you would be tossed in the arena and expected to survive for the entertainment of the capitol citizens. While you had done well with the parade, and people had immensely enjoyed your interview, you had scored appallingly low on your assessment. Aemond told you not to worry, that it was a good thing for people to underestimate you, they wouldn’t worry about killing you first because they believed you would end up dying on your own. You at least had cover for now.
You had eaten in silence, all four of you gathered for your last supper. Jasper had talked and talked, asking last-minute advice and making commentary about the other tributes, but you felt like any energy you might have had before had been completely zapped away. You drank three glasses of water, then walked to your room without a glance back, sitting in your bed to wait for Aemond to come to you.
It was as you began to doze off that he stepped into your room, the lights dimmed and casting shadows over his face. He walked over and sat in front of you on the bed, reaching over and gently caressing your head for a moment. You didn’t speak for the first few moments, what could you really say? Aemond cleared his throat.
“Don’t run for the cornucopia, just run for cove-”
“No advice please,” you interrupted, “not tonight. Tell me everything you can tomorrow morning, speak to me even as I’m being lifted away, but not tonight.” He nodded and shifted closer to you, watching as you reached out to hold his hands. “Will you show me?” You finally asked, and his heart stopped in his chest.
He knew what you were asking for, but somehow this still terrified him. It was… grotesque, horrifying, and a million other gruesome words. What would you say after seeing it? Aemond gulped and turned away from you to sit on the edge of the bed.
“When he slashed my eye, that was the most pain I had ever felt in my eye,” he began, voice rough. “Rhaenys sent me bandages and I was able to keep it wrapped up until the end of the games, but after I was lifted out, they took me straight to the hospital. I was delirious, but I remember the medics said there were a million things that could have gone wrong. I was lucky it wasn’t infected, and I was lucky they could perform surgery quickly.” Aemond closed his eye as he spoke but his fists were clenched on his knees. “When I finally woke up, blind in one eye, they brought me a mirror to show me their work. They said they were so proud, that not only had I been given the best care but they had made me seem truly capitol. You know what they did to my eye?” He snapped in your direction and you jumped. He stared at you with his one blue eye, unforgiving as steel. “They shoved a huge chunk of sapphire into the empty socket. There’s no eye in there, no cavity, not even scarred over skin. Every time I take off this eyepatch, the evidence of the games stares back at me. The thought that I have been forever changed by the capitol, disfigured by them in the name of beauty…” his chest was heaving and he had gone deathly pale. You reached over but he swiftly grabbed your hand, grip tight. He stared at your face, at the look of earnest care and pure love in your eyes, and slowly peeled away his fingers.
You didn’t make a sound as you gripped the strap of his eyepatch and lifted it over his head. You didn’t say a word as you looked upon the rough cut sapphire that sat where his eye should have been. All you did was lean over and kiss him, smiling against his lips and kissing him again. He pushed you onto your back and kissed you until you were breathless. He kissed over your neck, and after removing your nightgown, he kissed down your chest and over your stomach. He pulled down your pants and kissed you between your thighs until you could only call out his name. He kissed your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, and back up to your lips. He pressed into you for the first time, and you whined into his mouth. You dug your nails into his shoulders and he pressed into you once more. He did it again and again and again until you were overcome with pleasure. Then he did it again.
You stood beside the tube that would take you up into the arena. You couldn’t explain how you felt. Your entire body felt like it was thrumming but your mind was quiet. There were a million things you wanted to say, but not one word passed your lips.
Aemond had come down with you even though he wasn’t supposed to. You held tight to his hand and he didn’t say a word. He had spent the morning rapidly telling you things you were sure you would forget the moment the horn went off. He had stopped occasionally to kiss you, to caress your hair and hold you until he started breathing normally again. But he could do no more. The countdown had started, and you had a minute before you had to get into the tube.
“You know what you’re doing, you can survive,” he said simply, holding onto your hands. But you only shook your head and hushed him.
“Aemond, if I don’t make it out-”
“Don’t say that,” he spat out, gripping your face in his hands, but you just shook your head as much as you could in his grip.
“If I don’t make it out, I want you to know how much I love you. I need you to know. It’s the only thing that will let me die peacefully in the arena. I’ll fight, and I’ll try and make my way back to you, but if it should happen that I can’t… I need you to know.” Your lip trembled and you smiled at him, nodding as if everything was fine and you would be back in a minute.
“I know, I know, of course I know,” he whispered, pressing his lips so tightly to yours that when you pulled away they throbbed. “But you…” he gulped and shook his head and you saw the tears begin to collect in his eyes. “You just make it out,” was all he whispered, and kissed you again.
He kissed you until you had to rush to get into the tube. He stood by the glass as the final countdown began, ten seconds ticking by faster than they ever had before. And just as you began to rise, hands slipping against the glass, he mouthed ‘I love you,’ but he didn’t know if you had seen it.
Endnote: I truly believe Rhaenys would win the shit out of the hunger games
#hotd x reader#aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#hotd#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#prince aemond#aemond fanfiction#aemond smut#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen x ofc#aemond targaryen x fem!oc#hunger games au
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7 BL Newbie Moments of 2023 That Altered My Brain Chemistry
So I went through all my posts since the beginning of this journey and as much as I love dumping my insanity here without context or any punctuation, I feel that a lot of my fav moments deserve a bit more love and structure.
But first I need to put a bit of context so you won't be like "who the hell do they think they are" (aside from delusional I'm nothing, I promise) and my anxious overexplainer-heart is silenced.
My first BL TV show was Only Friends and only 5 months later I'm already throat deep into it (sorry). My watchlist is so endless that I sometimes (no, regularly) genuinely fear for my sanity. I'm still learning all the names and production houses but does that stop me from starting 10 other shows? NOPE.
I'm not new to queer fan spaces (avid manga reader since the yaoi days, my first ship was taito from digimon) but I am most definitely new to the brainrot levels these shows gave me.
And believe it or not, even though my shipper heart is over a decade old, I'm new to Tumblr and the fuel this platform added to the fire could burn down entire continents.
ANYWAYS if you're still here — please enjoy Noz's 100% self-indulgent moments!
1. The End And The Beginning - Only Friends
All I did was mindlessly scroll through the tumblr trends, no idea about how this website works, still sour and sad about the loss of my twitter bubble thanks to the elopocalypse—little did I know that fate would lead me to the wonderful world of BL shows! It was like this moment in isekai-esque movies where you get sucked into a world and you go WOOAAH once you arrive.
There was this show—on YouTube—100% unapolagetic about sex, relationships and queerness. Five minutes into the first episode, someone asks if they can bring their boyfriend to a hookup. This was ALL of my wildest dreams come true! Oh boy, was I naive.
I feel like Only Friends had me speedrun the whole BL industry. Branded pairs, production houses, fanservice, obsessive fans & haters, audience reactions influencing the storyline, EVERYTHING happened during Only Friends and I was just like "what the hell is going on here?" It was like the perfect case study for literally everything. Honestly I still don't really understand what's going on.
Unfortunately, this also led to the awful ending I erased from my brain and don't want to get into, I'm just gonna say Boston I will never forgive the writers for what they did to you. I dropped that show like a hot potato, filtered all possible tags and moved on — or so I thought.
I feel like I'm trying to recreate that first excitement when I discovered OF. But 20 shows later, I'm still not there. Does this make me sound like an addict? Yes, and this is why Only Friends EP 1 is my No. 1 moment that altered my brain chemistry.
2. The Boeing Incident - Only Friends
I talked about it just yesterday and I need to do it again because Boeing was the beginning of a thing that thought I'd never be capable of: lusting after real person TV characters. I talked about it in length here and here so the only thing I'm gonna add just for good measure is that I'd do anything, anything for a BostonBeoingNOZ threesome. Holy shit I'm cringing just writing this down but I need to get my point across.
3. Still Looking For That Kiss - Love in The Air
I know this is a general experience at this point but the chemistry between the couples in Love In The Air opened a whole knew world for me. I thought I knew chemistry but when I saw them, I realized I knew NOTHING.
It may sound weird but I'm still looking for that perfect kiss that's hitting all the right neurons in my brain. I have a hunch that one of these two pairs will deliver them one day, but until then I NEED to watch a million kisses for research.
This post by @talistheintrovert explains perfectly what I think about kissing in shows. Ji Chang Wook is still the blueprint for me.
But do I have a favorite BL kiss so far? Yes, yes I do. It's this ShinPeach beauty.
4. Main Lead Syndrome - Kiseki: Dear To Me
I am a second lead, side couple enby before I am human but I will defend these two until the end of time. My TL is flooded with Chen Yi, Ai Di, Nat and Louis while these two are over here falling in love over strawberry cake, cat analogies, failed cooking and all sorts of memory loss. Zongyi opened a fucking bakery for his babygirl and Zerui pretended to be a pretty dumdum to protect the love of his life.
I don't care how much you all love the two dumb (affectionately) gangsters, these two deserve the world, end of story. Also Kai Hsu and Taro Lin are bff's irl now, Taro said that Kai helped him get out of a very bad mental tate and I take that very personally.
5. The Fanservice is Fanservicing - Kiseki: Dear To Me
Speaking of Taro and Kai, the fact that I even know that they're bff's is another brainaltering moment that needs recognition because months later it led me to this TikTok of two actors I don't know of a show I don't watch, staring at them for ages and really considering watching it just because of it.
That is the power of fanservice my friends and I can put on my clownmask now because I avidly screamed left and right that fanservice should be forbidden when I learned about it. I blame Kiseki for that. But my point still stands, I hate actors doing stuff they're uncomfortable with. I just hope they're all friends and have fun and get that coin.
6. The One Just For Me - Playboyy
I've been lurking around Playboyy from the moment I found out they have the same writer as OF. And boy did it deliver so far! I already wrote a bunch here about which role Playboyy plays for me, but it's also a wonderful case study for my producer heart — watching the acting, directing, lighting, sets, props and storyline interact is fascinating.
People say the less you notice the better the show, which is correct, but I love all the flaws of this piece of media. IMHO it's the last puzzlepiece of the amazing, important social commentary the show delivers. All of the topics the couples represent need to get their very own show.
7. The Holy Grail - The Sign
Speaking of the less you notice — this is the sign for The Sign (again, sorry). There's a reason this show is loved and praised so widely because the production is on a whole other level. Adding the beautiful story on top of that, we have the potential for a holy grail here and I'm so in for the ride.
I keep saying I've entered the world of BL in it's absolute golden era. Never in a million years did I think I'd watch 5 shows simultaneosly but I love every single one of them so much I keep a whole spreadsheet on how I can be on time for every premiere every week alongside my work schedule.
Honorable mentions
KinnPorsche: VegasPete were my first dark, angsty, morally questionable couple ever (I'm a sissy okay)
Last Twilight: When I watched Extraordinary Attorney Woo, I cried several times about the wonderful media representation of disability. It means so much to me and Last Twilight is on par with that.
Bake Me Please: Thank you for giving me this beautiful kiss
Manner of Death: Thank you MaxTul for making gay makeouts fashionable
Bad Buddy: The one time I was glad I persisted so I could watch them most adorable phone scene on the planet
I Feel You Linger In The Air: It was too painful for me to finish but I loved the show with my whole heart and it deserves all the awards it got.
Kimi ni Todokanai: Japanese shows just hit different. I'll never get over the kissing Taiyaki.
The Novelist Series: THIS is how you kiss the one you're horny for my friends. Take notes directors.
Semantic Error: My fav webtoon -> Got Viki for the Series -> Found the BL corner of Viki -> Drew my attention to Tumblr -> This post.
Thank you for being the butterfly of my butterfly effect.
And thank YOU if you read until here! To a even more wonderful queer year 2024! I'm so ready for this ride.
#only friends the series#only friends#kiseki: dear to me#love in the air#love in the air the series#playboyy#playboyy the series#the sign#the sign the series#thai bl#japanese bl
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😘
For Valentine's Day, here are shipping... not headcanons so much as scenes that I would like to put into fic form but, let's be for real, I'll only ever get around to writing 1 out of 6 of these. So instead let me just tell you how the scenes go!
(Note: They are all silly but they are not all fluffy.)
Henry x Bear:
Henry bringing Bear to his forest (which is actually a spur off the Peel Godred branch line) for the first time circa 1971-ish and being kind of gruffly shy about this because This Is His Heart and he's trying to sound soooo offhand as he mentions that he just likes to visit here sometimes… get away from it all… for the past fifty years cough… and Bear just looking around and having a heart attack at how some roots are literally driving up the track ahead of them and measuring the four inches between them and the foliage and being like HENRY. HENRY I’M SORRY BUT. HOW. HOW IS THIS LEGAL. HOW HAVE YOU NOT CAUSED A FIRE HERE
I guess this one doesn't end on a very romantic note but it does make me laugh.
Edward x BoCo:
This one is even more messed-up but it also makes me laugh. I tend to imagine occasionally even work on a way-too-complicated WIP of Edward and BoCo getting to know each other during the three years before “The Diseasel” and also things on the mainland are, like. Bad. Really, really bad. BoCo is way too busy chronically dealing with stress levels set to 9 out of 10 to in any way acknowledge his growing romantic feelings about Edward…
… until one day when he’s been working further inland for a few days and as he starts returning ‘home’ he hears word that Edward was left in Barrow shed for a day and somehow spent the day out and about on B.R. jobs and BoCo RUSHES back - albeit a quiet, understated sort of way - all but teleports! - he NEEDS to find out RIGHT AWAY if his oh-so-innocent-cinnamon-roll is even still ALIVE :( let alone finding out how bullied he’s been :( only at the end of three hours in a sort of moving heart attack to find Edward at Barrow shed apparently now pals with everyone and swapping tales of Furness past and present with all the worst characters imaginable eating out of his palm and being like oh hello! yes i did get out and about it’s been lovely :) and BoCo trying not to shout in front of everyone I THOUGHT THERE WAS A REAL CHANCE YOU WERE DEAD OR KIDNAPPED AND SENT HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY BY NOW I CAME PREPARED TO COMMIT MURDER and Edward with an unbroken smile being casually like Oh yes :) Five different diesels tried :) No dw you can see I’m fine haha :) Incidentally at least a few of your brothers would sell you to the Gronk mafia for a corn chip :) yes the ones I’m sharing a chummy laugh with rn :) I had no idea things here were so bad I am putting you under protective custody on Sodor immediately :)
Mavis x Daisy:
Mavis has been down coz things have been so dull.
Daisy comes to her beloved's rescue!
... by throwing the world’s fakest mechanical breakdown at Ffarquhar and being like ‘oh DEAR i am ILL I am FALLING APART i NEED my dearest Mavis to HELP ME WITH THIS ONE MILK TANKER or else my SWERVES will IMPLODE’ and literally every human on scene doing a facepalm.
Mavis has a grand time although - when they manage to swing this journey all the way to Tidmouth Harbour - Mavis shows how much more forward she is about striking up conversations whereas Daisy is actually quite socially anxious (much as she tries to hide it) and winds up getting jealous at Mavis talking to everyone but her.
And then (finally noticing Daisy in a tizzy) Mavis rolls her eyes and kisses her at the same time.
Most everyone whoops and shouts some good-natured razzing. Cranky, however, is all like ‘OY A LITTLE LESS OF THAT IN MY DOCK’
Thomas x Bertie:
Maybe this one is a straight-up headcanon, I dunno. And I think this ship is a QPR. But anyway I like to imagine Bertie swinging all the way out to York to visit Thomas during his stint at the NRM.
It’s a super lovely surprise.
Up to and including Bertie responding to “But how?????” with the world’s smarmiest: “Well, I’m allowed to travel on mainland roads, aren’t I? Roads 1,459 Rails 0 :D”
James x Porter:
This is me, the captain of an empty ship, I know. (It's fun!)
Porter has been screwing with James’s head for fifteen years now by doing Grand Romantic Gestures but with Pokerfaced Watertight Plausible Deniability.
Like if there’s ever a cargo of flowers to go out, he always makes sure James gets it.
He always just so happens to be on James’s track when there are fireworks.
Forever making remarks like “Oh yeah, you go on first, you need your beauty routine” to let James go on and get wash down ahead of him and then bouncing so that James spends the entire time fruitlessly parsing the tone. It’s not biting or mean. It’s not flirtatious or teasing. But it's definitely not quite matter-of-fact. What does he MEAN by it???
No one knows. (Not that James cares!!!!!!!!) Porter, who has intimacy issues, is having way more fun living in James’s head rent-free than he ever would actually making a move on the most difficult and dramatic love interest on the railway (James: Everybody’s Ex™)
… at some point this will get resolved only when James snaps and drags him along on one of his fast freights out of the harbour. For once Porter is flustered (“Whoa! Whoa! James, put me down! I don’t go this fast - ”) and James just laughs, suddenly exhilarated because now he’s finally hauling Porter off and at the end is gonna force him to address all this shit (“C’mon, you’ve played Thomas before, haven’t you? Let’s moooooove -!”)
#cranky lives at tidmouth harbour truther right here#ttte shipping#... i still have no idea how to tag this it's not fic snippets exactly but it's not hcs either?#whatever fine#ttte headcanon#ttte#ttte multiple characters
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I want to know, if you don't mind and if you feel comfortable, your honest opinion, from the bottom of your heart, why you choose zutara over kataang. I'm really curious to know an adult's perspective about this ship.
Hi,
Thanks for asking this. Hopefully, it's with genuine curiosity and not a means to find things to argue with or attack me over.... anyway... I've been thinking about this a little bit, and the answer is two-fold.
The short answer is that I pick Zutara over Kataang because I don't like Aang very much, and I do like Zuko; I think the characterization of both just lends itself more to an appreciation of Zuko and his redemption arc over Aang's hero struggle.
The long answer is a summation of the following:
Aang's a child in the series, not yet even a teenager, and I think we can all agree that he often displays his lack of maturity throughout the series in several places. Now, this isn't necessarily a fair argument to bring to the table, given that he would undoubtedly mature as he grew (we assume) and did some growing up, even during the series. That said, his age - his being younger than Katara, is another reason I prefer Zutara, because most of the time - at least when I'm writing them - the gaang are either in their mid-late teens or early twenties, and I think at those ages, most girls don't want to date someone younger than them. Partially, it's social conditioning, but developmentally, boys tend to be two years behind girls in regard to maturity, etc., so it's a big factor.
We see throughout the series that Katara goes for guys that are... shall we say, more "manly" than Aang? Jet is a sexy schmooze with mixed-up ideals, but he's older than her and well-fit. Haru is buff as hell and kind of adorable (before the mustache makes its debut, anyway). In that regard, Zuko is much more Katara's 'type' than a scrawny, short, skinny bald kid with arrows tattooed all over him. Also, I mean, she seems to prefer men with great hair, and Aang just doesn't fit the bill.
Aang is the Avatar and, by merit of being so, needs to put his connection to the spirits world, his responsibility to the physical world, and his role as an avatar before everything else, including worldly attachments. We see this throughout the series, wherein his unwillingness to let go of his attachment to Katara inhibits his chakra pathways and blocks him from entering the avatar state. We also see him finally choosing his responsibility over his love for Katara, and while that's the right thing to do for the sake of the world, I just think Katara deserves more than that. It's the embodiment of the uptick in a preference for falling for the morally grey villain over the hero because the hero will sacrifice you for the good of the world, while the morally grey villain will let the world burn as long as you're safe.
Now, you could argue that the above isn't fair because Zuko has responsibilities, too, in that he needs to take on the role of Fire Lord, but I think there's more room for love/romance/attachment in that role than there is in Aang's role.
Zuko is so much more interesting than Aang; I don't know how else to put it. He's got the tragic back-story, the anger issues, the redemption arc, that morally-grey-what-can-I-say-grey's-my-favourite-colour vibe about him, and he's just so much cooler and more mature. Like, yes, he has his moments of childishness and temper tantrums - as does Katara - but he's matured far beyond what we witness of Aang and it makes him a more likable character. An example of what I mean is probably best illustrated in the Southern Raiders chapter. Aang tries to impose his own ideals and morality on Katara when she's burning for revenge, which, while he's trying to encourage her to do the right thing, doesn't really suggest that he's supportive of her feelings. I found him quite dismissive in that chapter with his insistence that she just forgave the man who killed her mother without any attempt at growth or chance for closure. Meanwhile, Zuko just grabs his gear and goes with her to make sure she'll be safe and to support her in whatever decision she chooses to make. Yes, it might've meant that he would be an accessory to murder, but at least he was supportive. Also, his reaction to learning Katara can blood-bend - an insanely frightening ability when you really stop and think about it - is alarmed but then accepting, and it's just so much more palatable than the lecture I imagine she'd get from Aang if he learned she'd used the ability for harm and revenge.
There's too much of a brother-sister vibe between Aang and Katara - at least when it's shown from Katara's perspective - and it wigs me out that the writers put them together in the end. Throughout the series, Katara treats Aang much the same way she treats Sokka, often mothering him as opposed to seeming romantically inclined towards him. Whereas with Zuko through the entire series, there's the ongoing thread of parallels between their characters and the underlying unresolved sexual tension between them - put there intentionally BY THE WRITERS, I might add. Like throughout the series, we were SUPPOSED to be shipping Zuko and Katara; the intention was to have them end up together. It's only the last-minute switch of writers and/or change of heart to fulfill the "hero gets the girl" trope that made Kataang canon, and I just think it's a disservice to the characters, the fans, and the series in general, to backflip like that at the last minute for a lame reason.
I could probably go on - and have before, in GCs and sometimes on Tumblr, about the many reasons they're just better suited to one another, but you're probably bored by now, so I'll stop here. Hopefully, the above gives you something to think about and a better understanding of the reasons so many ship the two of them. If nothing else, it's got me thinking about my Zutara fics and maybe even planning an update.
xx-Kitten
#kittenshift17#fanfiction#writing#zutara#prince zuko#katara#why i ship zutara#author opinion#anon request#anon ask#anonymous
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hi! this is maybe very out of the blue, but - i'm reading 'our feast is but beginning' on ao3, and in a comment on part one you write something about the urca gold being a cursed symbol and that it makes zero economical sense. idk really what i am asking but maybe - do you have posts on hand that deal with that? or would you write down some of your thoughts on that? it sounds really interesting! thanks (:
OOOH I'm so excited to talk about this -- it is actually going to come up more in the final chapter of that series, and it comes up as a major plot point in longfic, because I think its a really great example of how in some ways Black Sails is Just a Story. Which is also to say: none of what I'm saying here is a criticism of the show. The Urca Gold is Pirate Treasure writ large, it serves its function in the narrative, we don't actually need to think about the real world implications of stealing it.
But IF, for instance, you were a fanfic writer and kind of a history and econ nerd, and inclined to 'well actually' stuff, then you might see a couple problems with the gold as a solution for a free and independent Nassau. I think of them basically as problems of scale and form.
Let's talk about scale first. Basically, if you are going to steal and not die, you have to make a few calculations.
If you can steal something big, run away and live anonymously ever after, good for you! No problems. (This was Silver's initial plan. He was smart.)
If, however, you are going to steal openly, and maintain some sort of defended home base (see: bandits, organized crime, pirates) you have to ensure it is not worthwhile for people to come get their stuff back. This is why, as a pirate, it behooves you to have a reputation for extreme violence, and also a remote hideout. Merchant ships have insurance, the right people quietly profit from the fencing of pirated goods; nobody actually wants to die, so piracy is cost of doing business, and the world carries on.
The Urca gold is in a completely different class of stealing. This isn't holding up a truck; it isn't robbing the bank. It's robbing the Federal Reserve. Five million Spanish dollars, in today's money (yes, there are issues thinking of it this way, but the point holds) equals somewhere around 250-300 million US dollars.* There is simply no way that it is not worth Spain's (or England's) time and resources to go get it back. The cache they were fighting over at the end was one share and it was enough to cause all that trouble. The full amount would be worth sending a good chunk of your navy for, and the fact that this did not happen immediately requires some suspension of disbelief. Anyway.
Flint's theory seems to be that it's enough money to allow the pirates to defend Nassau against that threat, and basically establish themselves as a rich colony the empires won't fuck with. This is treated by the show like a reasonably serious proposition. So why does it fall apart? You can buy anything with that kind of money, can't you?
Now we get to the problem of form. Gold is only useful if you can exchange it for stuff you need. This is a problem for the pirates on two different fronts, defense specifically and trade in general.
In terms of defense, the pirates would need, very quickly, enough ships and guns to fight at least one imperial navy. But only the major powers were capable of manufacturing those ships and guns. Even if the pirates bought up all they could in terms of well-armed merchant ships/found a corrupt governor or two to buy guns and powder from, it would always be a losing battle because no matter how much money you throw at them, the powers that make warships are absolutely not selling you any. Why would they, when they can use them to come take the gold instead?
So, if the pirates aren't going to live long once they have this gold, can they at least spend their last months being filthy rich and enjoying themselves?
Not really.
We see Jack's crew members getting huge shares, everyone else on the island taking payment to help with defense when the time comes, as well as Jack paying laborers exorbitant amounts. So there's plenty to go around right?
This is how inflation happens. If we all suddenly have twice as much gold, but there is no more actual physical stuff, almost instantly the stuff will cost twice as much. This problem at least theoretically could be corrected by increasing trade. [Also, realistically, people would leave. But let's say they're staying for belief in the pirate republic reasons.] Because in the wider economy of trade in the Atlantic money is still valued normally, you can just import what you need.
And, maybe. This is more plausible than the rest.
But that sort of correction takes time, and given the whole 'war with civilization' situation, there can't be legitimate and sanctioned trade. It's pretty hard to get enough illegitimate goods in for an economy to prosper --- especially because if you're relying on black market trade during wartime, notoriously there ends up being price gouging and then you're back to square one with inflation.
In conclusion: the show does not get bogged down by this, as it shouldn't. It's fine. But yeah, the gold is fake and makes no sense, and Flint and Jack especially are borderline delusional about what it can achieve for them.
*This is actually not as impressive as I wanted it to be, once I started looking up reference points, eg, how much outstanding student debt is there? how much money does besos have? how much is defense spending? Did y'all know we should fight capitalism and eat the rich?
#they all would have been better off if it had been a tenth as much money#this is also making me think about the scale of revolution issues#killing some magistrates is fine and useful#sacking boston is for real a bad plan#black sails#anon ask#i'm having a great time thank you for the ask I love these#ps new chapter will be out soon!#maybe a week or two
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A smattering of general updates:
I played Tears of the Kingdom. I didn't really enjoy it. I understand why it was popular though; I'm just not the demographic for these types of video games anymore. I didn't find it creatively rewarding and after a time I sat there thinking 'I would rather be writing right now', and since then I have learnt that writing is made easier by doing things which are not writing, because it makes me miss it. My dad also doesn't really like it but for some reason has played hundreds of hours in it. I don't know either - I think he will take anything called Zelda at this point.
I spectated the Doctor Who David Tennant Special and watched some clips of the new season. I'm not a fan of RTD, and not a DW fan anymore (not for a long time), but it was an interesting study in how studios try to attract old and new fans.
I read a lot of books, and that lie people tell you about all books being good for you is a lie, because a cyberpunk anthology of short stories made me so angry I got heartburn. I think people who say that are saying so because they wish that they could read a lot, in which case I say, yes I think reading is a gift and we should engage with it, however, sometimes I get so physically angry from something stupid/bad I've read because bad writers exist that it gives me actual pain. I am reading Howl's Moving Castle right now and it's very joyful; I am very surprised by the liberties the animated film took! However so far I do think both experiences are worthwhile, and if you enjoyed the Ghibli film, I very much recommend checking out the original book if you want to revisit that world again. The prose is straightforward but a little whimsical, and Howl is very, very funny. I have laughed aloud a few times.
Well, you know I rewatched Dark, and it's funny that during my exile I said 'this is like if RWBY got the ending it deserves' and then, er, I found out it's not renewed yet, and that's still up in the air, which for the entirety of RWBY I have only had one true moment of doubt of such a thing, and that was a while ago.
On that topic, yes, I still ship Jaune/Cinder, believe Cinder's redemption is likely, etc., although there are some more external concerns I would wager now than before. Before I thought it very possible to do without any commercial influence, and it depends what compromises they do or don't end up making or having already made. My analysis of Jaune's arc in V9 may not hold water as much (e.g. if you lean towards the view there were rewrites to cater to growing the audience, or perhaps it's two ideas married? I'm not sure) so I'm going to think about it more, and there always has been a tension in RWBY between what is being expected/baited and what is foreshadowed/said/actually happens.
I figured out how to write again and what was blocking me, so there's that. To talk about it a bit more, since my break I have worked every single day on writing. My key takeaways are that you need a delicate balance of delusion and self-doubt to get anything done - you don't know you can do something until you actually do it - and every excuse I invented for not writing was not the reason I was not writing. I can write with a migraine beginning to set in on an uncomfortable desk where I can't even rest my elbows properly on the end of a bed with no back support without aircon in the middle of summer before I've even taken my hair out from bedtime plaits in my pyjamas. I didn't even expect to get my fic done right before midnight, actually I was like 'well lol that's not going to happen, I'll write anyway though, fuck New Year's' because I wasn't doing anything, and then I finished and looked at the time and was like ooooh. I actually completed my goal! So I'm very proud of that. Anyway writing is breathing, to me, I go crazy if I don't do it, no matter what it is, and every single piece of nonsense advice of productivity was not helpful, ever, but I did figure it out. Also admittedly I got a fire burning under me again because I found out I was actually right about Raven, in which case I took that as a sign from heaven I was on the right track. One should hope.
I am excited about Dune Part Two, yes, although I am trying to avoid Villeneuve talking about the film because I know all the marketing is basically directed at people who aren't Dune fans, and I have to see it for myself to see what it's worth. I enjoyed the first film, and Villeneuve seems excited to direct Dune Messiah, in which case I am willing to do whatever possible to make that happen. Because that's about as complete a story you're going to get in a major motion picture adaptation and it would be So Fucking Good.
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A little outsider's rant to the EagleOne fandom... particularly you younger fans.
Y'all are really getting upset about your ship because Leon and Ashley possibly never being shown together again? After all that wonderful material you got in re4 remake? Guys, most ship survive on crumbs... and y'all had a pretty decent meal there!
Like!! At least she's fucking alive! Look at how strong Serrenedy is... and Luis is fucking dead! Doesn't stop them from writing a ton of fix it fics and AUs and what if scenarios.
You guys aren't Aeon! You don't need the fucking "kiss make canon and valid" mentality. YOUR SHIP IS FUCKING VALID AND GOOD!
"But... I wanna see them together..."
WRITE THE FIC THEN! DRAW THE FANART! MAKE THE EDITS!
"Oh, but I'm not very creative."
SHUT UP AND DO IT ANYWAY!
Flood the world with it! Show everyone what the ship means to you! You'll get better at it the more you practice!
And you know what? Maybe Leon and Ashley don't ever see each other again in canon... but maybe some of you get real good at writing and maybe someday, more original stories starring characters with their archetypes start showing up... and being together. All because y'all knew a good thing when you saw it.
So don't roll over and die so damn soon. Yes it fucking sucks possibly not seeing Ashley in the games again.
So keep her alive and present outside of them.
you know @godtier and i were actually talking about this earlier today, and it's this whole thing that's like
kind of like what leon is going through in my fic, where he thinks that it's worse to have had it and lost it, because he now knows how good it was for him and how good it made him feel and that he can't have it anymore -- so now, he wishes he'd never had it at all, because then he wouldn't have to mourn it.
like, serennedy fandom operates under no illusions. they know exactly how that connection started, progressed, and ended. same thing with metaltango fandom. and, being slash ships, they never expect to become canon anyway, because that's unfortunately not the world that we currently live in.
and then you have something like jilleon fandom, who never anticipates their ship becoming canon, so there's no reason for them to get super invested in how the canon portrays them, because the heart of that fandom has always been fanfiction to begin with.
but with eagleone fandom, it's like...
people feel like something is being taken away from them. especially the eagleone people who came into RE through RE4make. because they did have it. for that one game, they had this ship that meant so much to them and was clearly written to be taken as romantic...
... and then to learn, no actually, you don't get to have that?
that sucks. it feels like a breakup.
like, there's a big difference between old guard like me, who looks at it as: "holy fuck i can't believe we actually got this, are you kidding me????" because i understand just how shocking and unexpected it is, considering how the rest of the series goes -- and new fans who are going "wait, what do you mean she gets written out of the series?"
i went into RE4make already knowing that leon's character progresses into the future without ashley. and so i'm just delighted that they got to have what they had for the time that they had it.
new fans are coming in and seeing a canon romance and not understanding why someone would say that it won't be followed through with, because that runs antithetical to their personal experiences with the game.
and that's why i don't fucking feud with aeon fandom, man. i mean, other than the fact that i'm a 34 year old adult who has better things to do with my time than argue with teenagers about fictional relationships.
they're dicks, but i feel bad for them, because they're going through a breakup, too. and theirs is way harder than eagleone's is because the relationship lasted a lot longer. they've had this for so long, but now it's like "fuck you, pack your shit, we're over."
now, with that all being said
there's no excuse for either side of this to be fucking toxic the way that they've been, either. i get that you're disappointed and you need some time to mourn and it feels even shittier to have someone from the other team go "YOU NEVER ACTUALLY HAD THAT THING YOU'RE MOURNING IN THE FIRST PLACE" but like
basically just this
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Let's talk Damerey.
I ended up being a VERY general fan during the SW sequels. Like...none of the ships bother me. FinnPoe? Fine. Damerey? Fine. Kylo and whomever, sure. I guess. I just want them to live and be happy.
Anyway, when did your Damerey journey start? I think I read at one point they had thought about making Poe and Rey a thing? But I guess the visions of the differing directors didn't allow for it? Did I make that up in my head?
I understand the appeal of that ship as well as FinnPoe or whatever it's called. I mean, it's Poe, so who wouldn't be obsessed lol
Anyway, thoughts?
Also, do you like to stick to Damerey fics for Poe or do you also like xreader with Poe?
Oh, boy. This might take a while.
I can honestly say I've been Damerey a lot longer than I've been a fan of Oscar Isaac. I became Damerey right after The Force Awakens. But here's the thing, I was Reylo, too. What? Okay, let me explain. I love the 'good girl falls for bad boy' trope, but I've always been realistic about it; the bad boy can't be horrible bad and has to become good eventually. I loved the idea of Rey bringing Ben back from the Dark Side, but... what he did to his father (my first love and still the one I compare to all other crushes) is unforgivable. I knew Ben Solo would NOT have a happy ending. Therefore, Rey needed to have her happily ever after with someone else. Finn or Poe? I loved them both, but I do have a thing for pilots, so I chose Poe.
The Last Jedi only increased my interest in both ships. The connection between Rey and Ben was fascinating. But... that last scene between Rey and Poe? I remember commenting to my brother after our first viewing, "They have to be planning something between them after that! Right?"
I went into the last movie wondering which way (if either) they were going to take it. I told myself I would be happy with either, and even if Rey chose no one; after all, she doesn't need a man to make her happy. But I am a hopeless romantic. After the first argument between Poe and Rey, where I nudged my brother (who I saw all 3 movies with) and said "They're just like Han and Leia!", I had hopes.
But... they failed to continue with that bright start. And with the kiss between Ben and Rey at the end, I was pretty much resolved to settle for Reylo. And that was my focus for the first couple of month after the movie. But then something strange happened. A fellow Reylo fan, who had defended the first two movies despite all the hate going on, started bemoaning how 'Rey would never be happy now,' and she 'would never get to have babies,' etc. etc. And that pissed me off. Big Time. She had options, dammit! She could stay single and raise Force sensitive orphans. She had Finn. And of course, she had Poe. So, I wrote Rising, my first fanfic in almost 20 years.
When the pandemic hit, and I ended up working part-time, I decided I needed to continue with this post-movie world I had created. I still had a soft spot for Ben, and it shows up in my early works, but I wanted to make Rey and Poe find their happily ever after. Then something else strange happened. In one of my stories, Kennera, I wrote a scene from Poe's POV. Suddenly, I wanted to know more about the actor who portrayed him. And I found this...
youtube
That was that. I was hooked on this man. I started watching everything I could with him in it. And I continued to write Damerey, falling more and more deeply into that ship. Reylo became less and less interesting to me, and now I could care less about it. Damerey is everything to me. And it's been that way for almost three years now. I just freaking love them with everything in me.
To answer your question about the ship almost becoming canon, yes it almost did. Colin Trevorrow's script The Duel of the Fates almost became the third movie, and it included a lot more Rey/Poe interaction, even a kiss or two. Some say it's why that scene at the end of The Last Jedi was added, to introduce that attraction. But alas, it didn't happen.
If you had asked me two years ago if I had read any Poe x Reader stories, I would have scoffed at you. I am a reader of novels and I write in the same style and always will, so why would I read that? But... I've read several amazing writers that write in that style since then, and I have become addicted. I know I will never write that way, but I will enjoy others.
I think the fact that I don't write that way is the reason why no one on Tumblr (other than a few trusted friends) ever reads and shares my stuff. It's a bit lonely sometimes, but it is what it is.
Damerey forever!
Art by @greysmartwolf
#ask box#ivystoryweaver#damerey#jedipilot#poe x rey#my story#oscar isaac#writing#i bet you're sorry you asked!#lol
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egt, this post came across my dash: https(:)//omgitspeterick(.)tumblr(.)com/post/125959787079/do-you-think-patrick-and-petes-relationship-has
its rather old, but it made me think. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. However, if you'd rather not, I totally understand!
oh, yes, this post!
I read this post many years ago, when I was first getting into Fall Out Boy, and it made me sad, because I don't actually believe in the truth of anything I'm writing but I do like to believe in their friendship, you know? Like, once I was on a podcast where we were talking about bandom and I said that I think its appeal is that there is actually nothing more romantic in the world than meeting the person who is your creative soulmate, and the idea that the Pete and Patrick dynamic could be merely performative really did make me feel sad, like, I don't mind being manipulated by being teased about shipping but it does make me sad if they secretly don't care very much about each other but they know it sells records so they're in it together to the bitter end, I guess. Which isn't quite where this post ends up, but there's a little bit of that in there, like, they like each other well enough and their band is successful, so they hang together. And I think I read this around the time Pete missed wishing Patrick happy birthday for like the first time in a decade or whatever and they really didn't seem super-close, just like casually friends who work together and like each other well enough, but yeah.
ANYWAY. This post no longer makes me sad because I'm sitting here in 2023 and I just went through this last album cycle with them and I just think there's no way it's all fake and I don't even think it's exaggerated lolol. I mean, I have long thought that, it didn't take this album cycle to convince me, but this album cycle definitely helped cement the opinion.
Partly I came to the conclusion that they were still close friends precisely because there was so little performing of it happening for our benefit. Like, I am aware that this is kind of like "I took the lack of evidence to itself to be evidence of the conclusion I wanted" lololol but there's something a little soothing about the idea that we don't see huge parts of their friendship because it's not for us. Which is, naturally, as it should be!! None of their life is for us lol, it's kind of them to share what they share. But the longer I spent in this fandom the more it became clear that there was lots of stuff going on behind the scenes that we didn't know about and never saw because it was just them living their lives and being friends and not performing that for us. They wrote an entire album that happened basically in secret, because Pete doesn't post to Instagram every time he hangs out with Patrick. He never would, because that's just his life, not something he needs to make public for everyone to see all the time so we all know about it.
But there are always enough hints that slip out that seem like the tip of an iceberg of interaction between them, that they'll reference a holiday spent at each other's house, or a party Patrick went to, or texts that have gone back and forth between them, or Pete will randomly post some insanely reflective Story to his Instagram about how amazing it is he met Patrick and Idk, it doesn't seem like he does that on a timer or something.
And then of course there has been this album cycle which has just been -- an incredible amount of best-friend-ness and looking adoringly at each other all over the place. And Patrick being so, so fiercely vocal about the importance of Pete in his life. That post from 2015 is so striking in how much it talks about Pete being such an instigator -- in teasing, in gazing adorably, in touching. And that was the narrative that I had, too. And then this entire year Patrick Stump has just been like, YO, IT WAS ME ALL ALONG, YOU JUST DIDN'T SEE BECAUSE I KEPT IT QUIET. Like, honestly, though, what a plot twist, who saw any of this coming.
Pete's the social butterfly, right? Pete's a people person. Pete's got a ton of friends. He's always going to. He likes to collect an entourage around him. He likes a group. He's happiest in his crowd. I think that can therefore make it seem like Patrick's not that important, since he's one of many. It is undeniably true that Travie and Gabe were super-important to Pete during the hiatus, and it's also clear Pete is still friends with them, and with lots of other people he talks and posts about all the time. It's just a true statement that Pete has a ton of friends.
But I don't think that diminishes the role of Patrick. In fact, to me this is another of the "lack of evidence is evidence" bits: Patrick isn't around all the time because he doesn't have to be, he's Pete's ride-or-die and they both know it. Pete has said, on multiple occasions, that they don't need to talk to each other, they just get each other, they exist comfortably in silence with each other. From the outside, that could look like indifference, two people sitting next to each other ignoring each other, but to Pete it's clearly the opposite. Pete's relentlessly social; with Patrick he can just chill. Patrick doesn't do "hanging out," and on multiple occasions both Pete and Patrick have acknowledged that: that Pete knows he has to make an effort to get Patrick to hang out with him, not because Patrick doesn't love him dearly but because Patrick doesn't hang out, that's just who Patrick is, so Pete knows to reach past that and not be offended, and Patrick has said that Pete always invites him to parties and Patrick never goes but it's okay, Pete doesn't expect him to go but he'll always make sure to invite him, and I just -- that is the most perfect encapsulation of love hahahaha. I hope I didn't make that up, I'm pretty sure I read it somewhere, but maybe I did make it up because I just think, like, how lucky Patrick is to be loved like that, that you never have to show up or be anything different than what you are but you know anyway that you are always, always wanted, no pressure, no expectations. UGH. I hope I didn't make that up, but whatever, it's good lololol
ANYWAY. I don't think the post is incorrect at all about the hiatus. I think they fell apart. I think that's undeniable. I know we've done a lot of talking recently about the revisionist history around the hiatus, and we're so far away from it now and they're so solid together that I think they've forgotten it some. But I think they shattered a little bit. But I think also that the whole point of their story is that they never stopped loving each other, that the hiatus happened partly because of how much Patrick loved Pete, that when Patrick needed him Pete showed up without hesitation. And I think people have said that Patrick did try to write some songs with Pete when his marriage was breaking up, which was clearly Patrick's way of offering comfort, because that is clearly how Patrick expresses his love for Pete. Also, I have always, always, always been struck by the detail of Pete being in Patrick's wedding. (I've heard conflicting reports about whether he was the best man or not, tbh. I thought myself that he was just in the wedding and wasn't the best man, but I have since seen some references, I think possibly from Pete himself at one point, that made me think he was the best man. Either way he was there and I feel like his role was a big one.) That wedding was just for Patrick, there was no photo spread in People, maybe he was worried it would get back to people if he didn't have Pete in it, but I doubt it, I just don't think Patrick would have had Pete in his wedding if he wasn't close friends with Pete.
And I think they've only gotten closer.
I think friendships change as we get older. I feel like I just wrote about this in the context of the hiatus but I can't find it now because Tumblr search function is the worst. But, anyway, you get older, you have kids, you get busy, there are more demands on your time. Friendships look different. But that doesn't mean they're not still there. I think they had a rough patch around the time of the hiatus but I think they've made that up and then some. I think they've made it up so much that the two of them barely remember anymore what it was like to be in that rough patch.
Anyway, this whole long thing was just for me to get to this point: that moment in the Joel Madden interview when, at the end of a long rumination on how he works with Patrick, Joel asks, "Are you guys best friends?" and Pete readily answers, "Definitely," with the loveliest smile, and just...I should have just linked to that moment hahaha that answers all questions.
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if the end of episode 4 / part 1 of season 3 isn't the lady whistledown reveal and colin's blowup/meltdown about it. . .what are we even doing here? i saw someone go 'ooooh what if debling proposes and penelope says yes and that's the cliffhanger?'
my sister in christ, that literally holds ZERO weight and tension in polin's story. debling is an afterthought. a nothingburger to create extra drama. he is literally disposable as a character because we KNOW penelope and colin are endgame. that relationship will fall apart and the how of it. . .doesn't matter.
but lady whistledown? lady whistledown is the guillotine of their relationship and it has been hanging above their heads on a fraying string for YEARS now. it affects EVERYTHING that comes after. she is penelope's mask that has to be peeled off. she will flay colin's gentlemanly exterior clean to the bone.
just like. . .idk, think about the narrative structure for a second. it's being framed as a romcom, right? what does every romcom need?
a meetcute, a growing closeness, some external drama, a big relationship stresser / test, an *oh* moment, a reconciliation, a happy ending
debling is the external drama, not the stresser. debling cannot threaten polin's ship as endgame, or polin in general, because he literally does. not. matter. he was created by shonda to drive home the point that penelope is now post-glow-up (which also doesn't matter, because their relationship (debling and pen's) goes against the very heart of bridgerton as a concept, which is to fall in love in unconventional ways. oh how did the two of you meet? at a ball? dancing together? HOW riveting (not)), he is not meant to be the stress or fracture in polin as a pairing
meetcute? flashback of polin as kids
growing closeness? the lessons, reveals he's a writer, the kiss
external drama? she's dancing with other peeps
big relationship stressor? LADY WHISTLEDOWN
*oh* moment? AFTER LADY WHISTLEDOWN REVEAL. when he sees who Penelope is as a FULL person and falls for her anyway
reconciliation? AFTER LADY WHISTLEDOWN REVEAL!! at their engagement ball when she publishes about Cressida not being LW even though she said she'd stop and he realizes he loves her even if she's upset him, the same way Penelope realizes *she* loves *him* even if he's upset her
happy ending? you guessed it. AFTER. THE. LADY. WHISTLEDOWN. REVEAL (and honestly, probably the death of Lady Whistledown. because it depresses me to think that Penelope's ultimate happy ending is to continue writing petty gossip for the rest of her days when she could be fucking her hot husband on various beautiful beaches around the world and they write novels together)
lady whistledown is. the unearthing of her as another side of penelope. the secret cracking open, colin's facade fulling fading, his fury and humanity made tangible, penelope's nuance, her strengths and weaknesses and fears and hopes now barefaced. the harms she committed, the triumphs she accomplished. the strain it has on them as a pairing, the dynamic shift it introduces
i will eat my SHOES if part 1 doesn't end on the lady whistledown reveal because if it doesn't. . .what are we even doing here?
#polin#polin is a mirror#they are meant to see each other and be seen#what the fuck is debling reflecting about them? revealing about them?#nothing but the reality that polin's relationship can shift and change#but the thing that REALLY creates the shift IS. WHISTLEDOWN!!!!#carriage? part 2#mirror scene? part 2#colin's full *oh* moment? PART. TWO#and that can ONLY happen after whistledown is revealed!!!#part 1 is for pretense: confidence lessons and pining and backstory and fuck ups (not just his but ALSO pen's) building and building#until it comes to the head that- this is her#this is penelope#all she is and all she's done#and colin SEES#and when he does and he reacts the way he reacts#penelope must ALSO see him#sweet tender gentle colin- ANGRY#human#messy#we think jealousy is the depth of his personhood? fuck off#part two is for SEEING and being SEEN
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hi! i think leontide is really cool, her art is so pretty & the writing is interesting -- could you share a bit more about her? (:
Hi! sorry I didn’t answer this earlier,, I was either asleep or busy ;_;…
But yes I can!!
((I kind of base my POTO writing around it being set in 1880 just because that’s easier than specifying if it’s about 1878-1885 or whatever haha.. ALSO if you wanna scroll there's an incredibly lazy TL;DR and art.))
SO. ONTO LEONTINE! This is going to be cut short but it is STILL rather long.
She was born about 1855 – making her about twenty five during the events of POTO in Grigny (sort of near Paris, about thirteen miles.) She also didn’t live as long.. She lived to be about twenty seven in the main version of her story, but forty in an alternative one.
Her full name is Leontine Vaillancourt // Leontine Charbonnier depending on which ver of her story! She worked as a stagehand (or atleast did) for a period of around three years (22-25) along with Joseph Buquet. This was because Joseph took her in and gave her a place to stay when she was 18, after meeting her in an inn.
Buquet basically acted as a friend and brother figure to her (I refuse to make him nasty sorry Buquet haters i’m going to parry you.) up until his death, since both of them could share the (small) income they made with their separate jobs, Buquet obviously working on the stages and Leon working as a maid outside of the Opera House for a few years, until Buquet managed to find her a job as a seamstress and stagehand.
Because I am terrible and believe in making OCxCanon that annoys people! Yes, she’s shipped with Erik and it is not fun and happy.
Onto how she actually MET Erik, she met him around when she worked with Buquet, because she nearly knocked him out with a weight for the stage backdrops (very cliched I know but..) and had to help a very dazed Erik out – she mistook him for someone who just frequented the Opera instead, despite the rumours about the Opera Ghost stuff which she thought was nonsense DESPITE Buquet trying to tell her that they were true.
She sort of became acquainted with Erik after Joseph dying, and whilst it wasn’t really a friendship or anything he did see her as a basic needs to an end (because no I won’t make Erik a nice person muahahah.)
Erik didn’t let on that he had killed him when the events of POTO basically started, and Leontine still thought he was just a rich Opera-goer, so didn’t question too much. Mostly because she was grieving, and due to the fact to cope with said grief she turned to alcohol and other means a lot.
Due to Erik obviously setting his sights on Christine and stuff, he basically chose to view Leontine as someone he could - for lack of a better phrasing - get what he couldn’t get from Christine from. Erik being a massive asshole, took advantage of the fact she would be drunk sometimes (Not sexual advantage. Thanks.) to get pity from Leon and manipulated her emotionally a LOT.
However she wasn’t very nice either – and treated Erik with a lot of disregard etc etc, use the fact he was a lot richer to basically extort what she wanted from him etc.
Eventually she killed herself and there’s a lot more until then but that was ALSO Erik’s fault, as much as I love Erik I refuse to be nice.
There’s a lot more but here’s some stuff that scrapes it, since i’d be here for much longer trying to explain it.
TL;DR :
Leontine born in 1850s in poorer part of France
Moved to Paris in late teens/ early 20s
Stayed with Joseph Buquet and worked at Opera House
Became a stagehand
Joseph died
Met Erik via nearly killing him by accident
Sought him out after a while and started very very messy ‘relationship’
Sang and did some performance stuff for a while
Fuckin’ died.
Also she's a ginger. sorry world.
I have a bunch of art of her, but it's pretty old and I need to redraw it.. so you'll get that soon ya'll sorry. Here's some old doodles anyway though;
#phantom of the opera#the phantom of the opera#gaston leroux#ACFSasks#phantom of the opera oc#poto oc#ocxcanon#leroux erik#leroux oc#anyway sorry for tag spam and. this. hoorah.#Sadly still not making art.. save me from the clutches of illness please folks.
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The opposition to rewrites in the FNDM is just so goddamn weird to me, given that one of the cornerstones of another fandom I'm in is a rewrite of a canon storyline that had some really cool ideas but dogshit execution. I see people saying that the rewriters are arrogant for thinking that they can do RWBY better than the official team, but no, in my experience even if they are arrogant it's equally possible that they're right. Official doesn't mean "The Best" or even "Good", just official.
Exactly. Ultimately it shouldn't even matter whether rewrites are "good" or not because
a) That's a highly subjective interpretation no one will ever agree on
b) They're written by amateurs for free as a hobby - with "amateur" meaning someone who does not produce RWBY writing in a professional capacity, not someone who is automatically "bad" at the art - and thus rewrites would be at huge disadvantage even if we did want to judge their quality
and c) That's just what fanfiction is?? Transformation??? The writer's motivation is inconsequential. Whether they're producing this because they think they can craft a better story than canon, or whether they simply want a creative means of celebrating it, the end result is still the same: a new, unofficial RWBY product that readers will inevitably compare to the original, favorably or otherwise
So yeah, it's wild to me. I've literally never seen another fandom so anti-rewrite. It's usually the opposite - as you say, a cornerstone of fan engagement - where fans, both jokingly and not, talk about how sometimes fic is a love letter and sometimes it's a "FUCK YOU STRONGLY WORDED TELEGRAM TO FOLLOW." Despite RWBY appearing unique at first glance (from my perspective, anyway) I wonder if part of this is due to larger fandom trends? Meaning, RWBY is comparatively young as fandoms go and I've noticed in recent years a prioritization of canon that hasn't been around before, particularly when it comes to shipping. Some of that is good imo (like the push for queer canonization) and some of it is just downright odd (what do you mean I'm not "allowed" to ship them just because they haven't spoken to each on screen? Since when is THAT a requirement?). Though RWBY is definitely an extreme case, there seems to be this generalized move from, "This is our canon and it's great, or maybe it sucks, but either way it's a spring board for all of THESE cool things" to "This is our canon and it is scared. It is perfect, flaws and all. If you're going to add to it I need a detailed proposal for how this fits into the established world, encapsulates the original author's vision, and maintains characterization even though I'm too young to know what OOC stands for." Certainly in RWBY's case, I wonder if part of it stems from the rise in social media and, as a result, fans "personal" relationships with the actors and writers. When you're seeing a creator's tweets all day and feeling like they're your online friend, you might be less inclined to "mess with" their work; as opposed to seeing an actor/writer at a con once a year, going home, recognizing that they're a complete stranger outside of any fantasies, and then getting on with playing in their sandbox because why wouldn't you? They're never going to know. This is the age of fans sending their fic to actors to read aloud and tweeting at writers that such-and-such had this to say about the show. Though this was done in a cool and positive light, I have legit had a meta of mine tweeted at a OFMD actor and, if the like he gave is any indication, he read it... which is a weird thing to think about considering he was not the audience I had in mind while crafting it. Those kinds of interactions has got to have some kind of impact on fans' perception of what they can and cannot do with the material...
Anyway, today's PSA is that if you want to do a rewrite of any story - yes, even RWBY! - you are absolutely allowed to do that regardless of how "good" it supposedly is. Go forth and get creative. Get messy. Do whatever the hell you want and if someone in the fandom tries to make you feel bad about that, tell me and I'll manifest a Lego in their shoe.
After all, it's not like the entirety of RWBY is built on transforming others' stories or anything :)
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Hello, I have a request, if you can write, can you write about how Shanks met the woman who has powers like Doctor Strange and goes to other universes, how would he react to the yellow shields, if he took his soul out of his body like the Hulk because he made the woman a little angry? :)
What I mean by yellow shield
❝with great power comes great responsibility ❞
✭ pairing : shanks x reader
✭ fandom : one piece, avengers
✭ summary : there’s a disturbance happening in the multiverse and who better to stop it then a doctor strangers sister, by choice not blood.
✭ authors note : been taking a small break with writing got a little overwhelmed with all the blogs I had (wattpad, quotev, here) so I’ve been taking requests steady at a time anyways this was requested by @artnz-13 who submitted this lovely idea to me, had requests turnt off on and off so did those who submitted don’t worry I’ll be sure to tag ya. This is also a new masterlist I’m making so if I’ve written crossover stories before sadly I ain’t strolling through my work to find them therefore this masterlist will host newly made one
✭ crossover masterlist , one piece masterlist
In the mystical sanctum of Kamar-Taj, (Y/N), a talented sorcerer, stood alongside Doctor Strange, both of them gazing into a swirling vortex of energy conjured by the Great One himself. They were bonded not by blood but by a connection forged through years of rigorous training and shared experiences. Though they weren't siblings by birth, they considered each other as family.
Doctor Strange, known as Stephen to (Y/N), sensed a subtle shift in the fabric of the multiverse. He turned to her with a quizzical look, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. "Can you feel it too, (Y/N)? There's something amiss, something unsettling."
(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, her crimson cloak billowing around her. "Yes, Stephen, I sense it. It's like a disturbance in the cosmic equilibrium."
Stephen frowned, concern etched on his face. "I think we should investigate this together. It could be a threat to our world."
(Y/N) smirked mischievously, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, Stephen, always the responsible one. But you know, you're needed here to save our world from mystical threats. I'll handle this disturbance in the multiverse."
Stephen looked at her, torn between his duty and his trust in (Y/N)'s abilities. "Are you sure about this? It could be dangerous."
(Y/N) winked at him and took a step back. "When have I ever failed, Stephen?"
With that confident remark, she extended her hands, summoning the arcane energies around her. A swirling portal appeared behind her, pulsating with an otherworldly light. She gave Stephen a playful salute, her middle fingers raised with a cheeky grin. "See you later, Strange. Don't have too much fun without me."
And with that, (Y/N) dramatically fell backward into the portal, disappearing into the unknown. The rift in reality closed behind her, leaving Doctor Strange standing there, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.
"Damn that girl," he muttered to himself, a reluctant smile forming on his lips. "She's too much."
As (Y/N) tumbled through the swirling void between dimensions, she reveled in the exhilaration of free fall. Her crimson sorcerer's cloak billowed around her, reacting to her every thought and movement. Despite the rushing wind and her rapid descent, she felt entirely in control, even invincible.
With a delighted laugh, she started performing tricks in mid-air. She twirled, somersaulted, and looped, leaving shimmering trails of magic behind her. It was a breathtaking display of her mastery over the mystical arts, and she couldn't help but savor every moment of it.
Far below, the endless expanse of the ocean stretched out, its surface glistening in the sunlight. It was then that she spotted a massive ship cruising through the waves. As she drew closer, she realized it was no ordinary vessel. It bore the Jolly Roger flag, and its crew appeared to be in the midst of a raucous celebration.
Without missing a beat, (Y/N) adjusted her trajectory and aimed for the deck of the ship. As she descended, her sorcerer's cloak shifted, allowing her to control her descent with grace and precision. The crew on board, who had been reveling in their festivities, suddenly fell silent, their eyes widening as they saw her gracefully descend from the sky.
It was Shanks' crew, a notorious group of pirates known throughout the Grand Line. As (Y/N) touched down on the deck with a flourish, she couldn't help but revel in the stunned expressions of the pirates. Her carefree spirit remained undiminished, even in the face of danger.
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, (Y/N) leaned forward and, with her thumb and forefinger, pulled down one eyelid, revealing a cheeky grin with her tongue out on full display. It was her signature greeting, a symbol of her playful irreverence.
Shanks, the captain of the crew, burst into hearty laughter at the audacious display. He clapped his hands and roared, "Well, now! What have we got here?“
(Y/N) landed gracefully on the deck, her cloak settling around her. She sauntered toward Shanks, her eyes dancing with mischief. "You could say that, dude. Anyways I’m here go invested some normal multiverse crime happening. Mind if I stick around?!”
Shanks laughed again, his infectious mirth spreading to his crew. "You've got guts, I'll give you that! Name's Shanks, by the way."
(Y/N) extended a hand, her crimson cloak flaring dramatically. "I'm (Y/N), the sorceress who's here to turn your world upside down."
And so, in the middle of the vast ocean, an unexpected encounter unfolded between the fearless sorceress and the notorious pirate crew, setting the stage for an adventure neither party would soon forget.
(Y/N) found herself in a world quite different from the one she was accustomed to. Yet, instead of immediately setting out to locate and address the mysterious disturbance in the multiverse, she decided to embrace this unexpected adventure with Shanks and his crew. It was like cashing in vacation days she didn't even have.
For the next few weeks, she became an honorary member of the Red-Haired Pirates, joining them in their high-sea escapades, sharing stories by the campfire, and even joining in their occasional bouts of revelry. The crew found her presence to be both fascinating and refreshing, a burst of magic and mystery amidst their pirate lives.
(Y/N) had never encountered a group of people so full of life and camaraderie. Shanks, the charismatic and laid-back captain, led with a sense of honor and respect that left a deep impression on her. She marveled at how he managed to command such loyalty from his crew.
As they sailed from island to island, exploring uncharted waters, (Y/N) couldn't help but appreciate the beauty and diversity of this world. Each island held its own secrets and wonders, from lush jungles teeming with exotic creatures to bustling marketplaces filled with intriguing artifacts and curious locals.
Her days were filled with laughter, adventure, and new experiences. She would often use her magic to perform tricks and entertain the crew, creating dazzling displays of light and illusions. It was a way for her to give back to her newfound friends, and they reveled in the magic she brought to their lives.
Despite the carefree atmosphere, (Y/N) couldn't help but keep an eye out for any signs of the multiverse disturbance. She knew that her ultimate responsibility was to address the anomaly, but for now, she relished the chance to live in the moment and share these extraordinary weeks with her pirate companions.
Eventually, the day came when the Red-Haired Pirates set their sights on land once more. They anchored their ship at a vibrant coastal town, and (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as she prepared to part ways with her newfound friends. The time for her to fulfill her duty as a sorceress was drawing near, and she couldn't delay it any longer.
As she stood on the deck, looking out at the bustling port town, Shanks approached her with a warm smile. "Well, (Y/N), it's been quite the adventure having you with us. You're welcome back anytime, should you find yourself in these waters again."
(Y/N) smiled back, a mix of gratitude and regret in her eyes. "Thank you, Shanks. I'll cherish these memories forever. But duty calls, and I have to find the source of that disturbance in the multiverse."
Shanks nodded understandingly. "Fair enough, (Y/N). You're a woman of responsibility, and I respect that. If you ever need a pirate crew to back you up, you know where to find us."
With a final wave and a promise to return, (Y/N) stepped onto the docks and watched as the Red-Haired Pirates' ship slowly faded from view. It was time to resume her mission and face the unknown forces that threatened the very fabric of reality.
After parting ways with Shanks and his crew, (Y/N) couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Her intuition, honed by years of magical training, told her that she needed to return to her pirate friends. Without hesitation, she used a location spell to track down Shanks' whereabouts.
In an instant, she conjured a portal and stepped through it. The world on the other side was in chaos. (Y/N) found herself on a bustling marine-occupied island where Shanks and his crew were locked in a fierce battle with a group of marines. Swords clashed, cannonfire roared, and the air was thick with tension.
She couldn't help but grin as she materialized in the midst of the skirmish. "Damn y'all started the party without me?"
Shanks, his red hair blowing in the wind, turned towards her with a mix of relief and amusement. "Well, look who's back!"
(Y/N) knew she had to act quickly. She extended her arms and made intricate hand signs, drawing upon her magical prowess. Two shimmering yellow shields formed on her hands, crackling with protective energy. "Well, don't stop now that the fun's here."
Without wasting another moment, she leaped into the fray, landing gracefully between Shanks and a group of regular marines. The fight intensified as she joined the Red-Haired Pirates' side. Here, she was up against regular marines, but her agility and magical shields made her a formidable opponent.
She deflected bullets and cannonballs with her shields, sending them harmlessly ricocheting away. Her magic-infused strikes were swift and precise, incapacitating marines with a touch or a wave of her hand. (Y/N) moved with an otherworldly grace, her crimson cloak swirling around her like a whirlwind.
As the battle raged on, a marine officer with a Devil Fruit ability emerged, wielding the power of fire. Flames danced around him as he launched fireballs toward Shanks and his crew. (Y/N) knew she needed to neutralize this threat.
With a determined expression, she focused her magical energy. Her eyes shimmered with power as she summoned a gust of wind that swirled around her, extinguishing the flames. Then, with a flourish of her hand, she conjured a torrent of water from thin air, dousing the marine and leaving him powerless.
The tide of battle began to turn in favor of the Red-Haired Pirates and (Y/N). Shanks grinned at her as they fought side by side. "You always know how to make an entrance, (Y/N)."
She shot him a wink, deflecting another attack with her shield. "Wouldn't miss this for the world, Captain."
As the last of the marines retreated, defeated and scattered, (Y/N) and the Red-Haired Pirates stood victorious. The island, once a battleground, now fell silent. She turned to Shanks with a triumphant smile. "Now, where were we before I rudely interrupted your brawl?"
After the intense battle with the marines, (Y/N) found herself treating the injuries of the Red-Haired Pirates alongside their ship's doctor. Her magical abilities came in handy, mending wounds with a gentle touch and soothing the pain of her pirate companions.
However, as the crew's injuries were tended to, a tense atmosphere settled over the deck of the ship. Shanks and (Y/N) were engaged in a heated argument, their voices rising with each passing moment.
"(Y/N)," Shanks began, frustration evident in his voice, "you have no right to scold me for jumping into battle. You weren't even there in the beginning of the fight!"
(Y/N) crossed her arms, her expression stern. "And that's precisely the problem, Shanks. You charge headfirst into danger without considering the consequences. What if I hadn't shown up when I did?"
Shanks was about to retort when, in a fit of annoyance, (Y/N) dabbed her palm on his chest. Instantly, an otherworldly energy surged through him, and he felt his soul being forcibly ejected from his body. Panic washed over him as he floated above, unable to interact with the physical world.
From his ethereal vantage point, Shanks watched in disbelief as (Y/N) took a sharpie and began drawing comical faces on his face, giggling mischievously. She leaned closer, her voice echoing in his non-physical ears. "This is why you don't mess with a sorcerer, Shanks."
As he watched her antics, Shanks was torn between frustration and a strange sense of amusement. But he desperately wanted to return to his body.
After what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) placed his soul back into his body. Shanks gasped for air as he returned to his physical form, bewildered and disoriented.
"What the hell was that?" Shanks demanded, wiping off the drawn-on faces with annoyance.
(Y/N) simply shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "A little reminder that you shouldn't underestimate a sorcerer."
With that, she turned and walked toward the edge of the ship. A swirling portal opened beneath her feet, and she fell backward into it, her fingers raised in a playful farewell. "Until we meet again, Captain."
As the portal closed behind her, Shanks was left staring at the spot where she had disappeared, utterly flabbergasted. He couldn't help but mutter to himself, "Damn that girl."
The crew of the Red-Haired Pirates, having witnessed the bizarre encounter, exchanged bemused glances, and a few of them couldn't help but chuckle. They knew that (Y/N) was a force to be reckoned with, and her unpredictability only added to her mystique.
#submission#x reader#x reader one shot#x reader oneshot#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece masterlist#one piece x y/n#one piece imagine#one piece imagines#avengers x reader#doctor strange x you#doctor strange x female reader#doctor strange x reader#doctor strange x y/n#crossover#crossover masterlist
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🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before
🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings
🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character
🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here
🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them
🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before
Does personal lore mean it has to be about me?? I'm gonna assume yes?? I can't tell what this question wants. My personal lore is that I hated reading for most of my life. I mean more than 80% of my life. Ironic, I know. It's still incredibly difficult for me to pick up a book and just read! Somehow this did not transfer to fanfic. It's one of the few things I can read without getting fatigue.
🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairing
Let's stick with good old Zack and Sephiroth for this one. I head Canon Zack is very good at brushing Sephiroth's hair. HOWEVER, in the wing AUs where Sephiroth's wing appears while he's still sane, Zack is garbage at preening. It takes too long! It's not intentional that he gets impatient and less and less careful. This has lead to tearing multiple chunks of feathers from brushing too fast.
The biggest problem is accidentally ripping a feather out from its root. Sephiroth's instincts kick in and he suddenly attacks the offender, no matter who it is. He only injures Zack once before having enough control to stop himself. Zack never holds it against him. It becomes a quiet night of the two being close until Sephiroth no longer feels overwhelming guilt for what he's done.
Sorry, got a little carried away. A well known bit of personal lore: everything I write becomes angst.
🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character
Hojo is incredibly interesting. Yes the man is a complete sociopath, but I cannot deny the steps to his madness and how it grew throughout the game and fascinating to me.
I really don't have many unpopular opinions (at least not with the Tumblr crowd). Ships though? Different story.
🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
So in The Last Straw, I came up with this completely bullshit idea: a child with a significantly higher concentration of Jenova cells cannot absorb any nutrients except meat based protein (or the lab made equivalent). This is based off the fact that Jenova in that world survives on the lifestreams of planets, and if you look at a food chain and think of the planet as one more link, Her species is Always a predator.
I realize now, after writing all of this, that the question does ask for backstory. Woops.
Anyway, I was trying to BS a name for this condition. Then I found the significantly less severe condition of malabsorption. On a surface level, it's a condition where the body does not absorb nutrients/absorb them properly. So because this was so different than anything else I've researched, it sticks out.
🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here
The blond landed on the vehicle and Strife swiftly removed the blade. Every second they wasted on this transition meant more firepower on the truck. Cloud grabbed the handlebars with his left hand and the Buster Sword with his right. Together they swept through Shinra's ground forces, men knocked off their vehicles and onto the unforgiving pavement.
🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them
@altocat - always kind and let's me steal her ideas
@prismaticpichu - a font of kindness who always has a Fluffy idea cooking. Great when I need some joy.
@winter-doggo - his art always makes me smile. And he still leaves great comments on my fics despite my sudden lack of online interaction.
And you! Yes you, @shadowbanshee , because you're one of the only people that's left me asks like the ones I see for everyone else I follow. I still see likes for the "CC Sephiroth finds CCTV footage of Lucrecia" from December!
I'm not saying there aren't others. I just don't want this post to be any bigger lol. Know if I didn't mention you, I still appreciate you!
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