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ah0minecchi · 3 days

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IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!♥︎ megumi f. x reader

Ꮺ in which meeting megumi fushiguro was a complete, but sweet, sweet chaos . . .

cw: angsty af, mentions of intimacy, use of alcohol if u squint

NOW PLAYING! 💿 cherry waves - deftones

<𝟑.𖥔 ݁ ˖

dear megumi:

sometimes i wish i could tear apart this heart of mine, that’s apparently too big for my body. i wish i could just shut down everything you were and are for me. i wish i could turn off everything you light up in me. ever since the beginning…

[ ♥︎ ]

“so you’re fushiguro… yuuji talks a lot about you.” i looked at him, finally getting to meet my best friend’s best friend… wow. “just call him megumi, y’all are basically indirect friends at this point.” yuuji laughed, which i followed, looking at the raven haired boy for his approval.

“call me what you like.” megumi responded nonchalantly.

[ ♥︎ ]

i’ve been wondering nonstop what the fuck i did wrong. did i not deserve you? wasn’t i good enough? all those times i dropped everything just to run after you, all those times i promised you the whole world… weren’t they enough? weren’t you tired? of having me chase you around all day? did it bore you? having someone care so deeply about you, but not feeling the same about them?

i don’t think you can even imagine how it feels… cause, fuck.. has anyone ever said ‘no’ to you? have you ever wanted to pursue something that doesn't want you until it suffocates?

it hurts. it really fucking hurts.

[ ♥︎ ]

“are you at the party yet?” megumi asked through his phone, reaching my ear. “yeaaahhhh, im kinda drunk to be honest hahaha… but it’s real fun in here! you should come… pleeeaaasee.” there were a few seconds of silence until megumi broke it, shoting straight to my heart in the process.

“i don’t know how the fuck i’ll get there… but i will get there.” he hung up, leaving me excitedly waiting for him as i told all of our friends he was attending.

[ ♥︎ ]

that one night you kissed me, did i mean anything to you? cause at that very moment, to me, you were the whole world. my whole world. that one night i ended up tangled in your sheets. was i just another one on the list? cause to me, it was the very first time i felt cared about. you showed me the love i never thought i’d deserve.

could i even call it love?

i think you’d just call it lust.

[ ♥︎ ]

“how is yuuji going to find out about this?” i asked megumi as i ruffled his bed hair. “i think we should just tell him… but not now.” he answered as he scanned every detail on my face.

[ ♥︎ ]

i wish i knew what you meant by that. all the while i wanted to keep you as a promise, you just wanted to keep me as a secret. i wish nothing had ever happened, not because i regret it, nor did i not love it for a moment, but because i don't want to feel like this anymore. not with you.

i tried. i tried to be your friend. leave everything behind and continue as if nothing had happened. but the mere idea of thinking that I was never for you what you were for me is enough to make my heart ache.

maybe we live in a world full of superficialities, empty, where everything is momentary pleasures, satisfyingly chaotic, and pleasantly disposable. i never want to fall like this again. i don't want to dream so high again. i don't want to be so naive again.

but i can’t help it when it’s you.

[ ♥︎ ]

“i’m not ready for anything, with anyone…” he sated as tears started rolling down my face. why? why’d you give me a taste of some love you couldn’t give me? or didn’t want to give me…

[ ♥︎ ]

weeks passed, and i started to accept the fact that it was not gonna happen. i started seeing someone else.

maybe you didn’t want to have me, but you definitely didn’t want to lose me…

[ ♥︎ ]

“you coming y/n? we gonna go grab ice cream or sum.” yuuji asked turning back to look at me. i couldn’t tear my gaze away from my phone, but i didn’t fail to notice how megumi looked at me.

“uhmm actually, go ahead without me guys! i’ll hang out with yuta later…” i commented as i blushed lightly. “OOOOOO Y/N’s GOT A DATEEE” yuuji joked.

megumi didn’t say a word until i left.

[ ♥︎ ]

next day, everything changed. that kiss you stole from me… i wish i could have it back.

you told me you were ready, that you wanted this. that you wanted me.

you made fall all over again. but deeper this time. you tricked me into your game once again. i mistook your lies for a future, with sins and sweet promises.

friday. i wanted to confront you about it.

and you tore it all apart. again.

i am so fucking greedy, and i don't want to let something i love die, even though i know i will never have it.

i’d fucking love to be your friend. i’d fucking love to pretend that it doesn't burn my skin to want to hug you and not be able to do so. i’d love not to want to know everything about you.

i wish i didn’t want to be your whole world.

i don't know why you hurt this much. i barely know you, and yet, i can't imagine a life without you. i have never had the courage to face what i truly feel. cause it's too soon, cause it would only complicate everything, or just because you don't want to hear it.

but i love you, megumi.

i wish it wasn’t like that. none of this.

yours truly.

y/n

a/n: i wish i could lie to y’all and say this wasn’t based on a personal experience but haha guess what…

AND SORRY FOR THE ANGST I LITERALLY CANNOT WRITE HAPPY SHIT WTF

LIKES, COMMENTS & REBLOGS are very much appreciated ♪( ´θ｀)ノtysm for reading !! <3

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lifeandlies-of-regulusblack · 1 day

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The Portrait of Regulus Black

How his features change over time and what it meant for the people around him. / How Molly and Sirius finally come to an understanding in front of a dead boy's portrait.

Regulus clearly grows up to be beautiful. But as a kid, all the sharp features the cousins shared didn't sit quite right on his small baby face. So Regulus, until puberty, looked weird. He wasn't ugly but he looked like a cut and paste collage of aristocratic features that made him come off as an uncanny valley child. People look at him and register the features that should all but make a most precious kid. But it never feels quite right. People, instead, are unnerved by the hallmarks of beauty waiting to settle down on a too small face.

Narcissa was exactly the same as a child.

Regulus starts getting looks from girls and the occasional boy at 13. By 15 people know who Regulus Black is, he's asked out often and sent letters in distressing frequency (not that his friends don't have a good time reading them all and eating the treats that come with it). James looks at him like he's trying to figure him out, Regulus doesn't care. James asks him if he's going to this week's meeting for Slug Club and if he'll be staying for tea after — Regulus walks right past him.

James starts looking at the people coming up to Regulus like they offend him and it's Barty who calls him out on it.

"Oi, Potter! Are you jealous Reg's getting all the attention or do you want to line up yourself?"

Regulus merely rolls his eyes at his friend, always looking for a reason to piss off his brother's mates. Meanwhile, a rabbid James is held back by Frank.

Eventually, James tells him that Regulus had always been pretty to him. That he was 12 and Regulus was 11. And all James could think about, was how not to embarrass himself so he could impress Sirius' doll of a little brother. Now, everyone wants a piece of Regulus, James sourly points out. He was there first.

He gets a kiss on the cheek for the sulking and James chases after the lips that dare to call his woes, cute.

By 17, the Dark Lord takes notice. By 17, Rabastan starts approaching him... To take him under his wing, he says. By 17 Greyback starts staring. Tells Regulus that boys like him should be careful not to end up alone.

By 18, a portrait of Regulus Black sits on the wall of 12 Grimmauld Place — immortalizing his beauty and youth.

At 35 Sirius looks up at his brother, his portrait asking him, hopefully, if he'll finally be staying home for the holidays, perpetually stuck some time in the past where he and Sirius still came home together but went to Hogwarts separately. He looks at his brother, or what remains of his existence, and says yes, he'll be spending the rest of it with Regulus.

The Order, ever curious of the dark, once mighty, Black family (though ashamed to ever outwardly admit it) will occasionally look up at the portrait of the dead heir — final whereabouts, unknown... Body, still yet to be found. His death, a debate of his detraction or failure. Ever unresponsive, wary, and snobbish except when Sirius is the one asking him about his day, only then will the painting answer.

The painting haunts the people who come over with business to discuss among other members. The young boy's features speak of unfinished growth creeping towards adulthood. Maturity never achieved.

Molly, in a rare moment of peace with Sirius, sits with the once heir as she finds him looking up at the portrait, late at night, lost to memories in his childhood home.

"Do you miss him?"

"People expect me to say no, you know? Youngest Death Eater, and people say he was quite eager to join up, my fool of a brother."

"That's not what I asked. I miss my brothers and nothing could ever take that away from me. They were my brothers. Sometimes, my grief is all I have left of them."

Sirius sighs, "And he was my brother. I wish I could've seen him grow up. I'm 35 and he's 18. It haunts me, Molly."

There's nothing much else to say after that.

"He's beautiful," she says, looking up at the painting, at the imitation of a young man looking at them with apprehension, no — looking at her with apprehension and looking at his brother with mild confusion. As if to say, 'who is she Sirius and why is she here?'

"I remember him, quite a few years below me. Walking like a prince through the halls of Hogwarts. Haunting its walls, with James behind his heels."

"They thought no one ever noticed," Sirius says.

"You did."

"I'm his brother and James was my best friend. He never talked about Regulus, he kept him like a secret." Sirius recounts with an odd tone to his voice.

"I watched. Waiting for James to act in shame, I was waiting for a reason to start a fight. Regulus and I weren't talking but I wasn't ashamed to be his brother. If James was ashamed, I would've stepped in between them and put an end to it."

Molly waits, realizing she's seeing Sirius anew for the first time. She and Sirius never got along well and a good part of it was because she thought he was rash. Impulsive and blindly inconsiderate of others. She never liked that he kept looking for James in Harry. Wanting to relive the past. But sitting with him like this, hearing how much he knows when people don't expect much of him at all, the way he speaks of his brother — it's sobering.

"I figured out the reason for James' silence. Why there was never a hint or mention of whatever fleeting relationship he had with my brother. It wasn't shame, it was selfishness. Greed. He loved Lily, fully! No one could ever say he didn't. Knowing what I knew didn't change that. But Regulus was his to keep. And he kept him all to himself.

I do the same thing with Harry. I talk about James. I share James with him because James was never mine the way Regulus was mine. All my best memories with Prongs I tell him and I watch his eyes light up — hungry for more of the father he never met. Lily too, of course. But Regulus? I—" Sirius pauses. He tries to say more but can't. Regulus was his brother.

"It's so hard."

"Bill asks me about them too. Fabian and Gideon. I share with my kids my grief because it's easy to admit loss. But how we spent our childhood together? How brave their uncles were... Charlie asks why I wouldn't hang pictures of them up on the family mantle, why I keep their smiles in a box."

But they were her brothers.

The silence they share is one of understanding. What a price they had to pay to finally see each other eye to eye.

"Regulus would've been devastating, wouldn't he? Growing up into a man."

Sirius laughs. A bark more than laughter, really.

"I'd like to think he wouldn't have been. At least not by that much. I'm the good looking one, remember?"

"I don't think you'll stand for my answer. But I'm sure people weren't too hung up on you leaving Hogwarts. I think the students were just fine."

#regulus black #sirius black #james potter #the black brothers #jegulus #starchaser #marauders era #regulus headcanon #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era headcanons #hp marauders era #hp fanfiction #my writing

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pomefioredove · 3 days

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angelum

summary: morally insecure reader type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, yuu is at nbc now, hurt/comfort, a little fluffy, extremely self indulgent, rollo is ptsd coded as per usual

Perhaps he didn't know you as well as he thought.

But then again, perhaps he didn't want to.

Rollo had become accustomed to the comfortable home you had made yourself within his mind, warm and comforting and far, far away from the dark crevices he worked so hard to stave off.

It mirrored reality, in a sense; he saw it as his duty to keep you safe and away from all the evils of the world, the magic and sin and those who would lead you astray... some days, he felt that he could shrug the rest of his life off his shoulders and solely devote himself to your keeping. Others, he was bothered by nasty thoughts of doubt, those that told him he was only doing to you now what he couldn't have done all those years ago.

Rollo kept himself occupied enough to avoid thinking about it too much.

He did not see a reason to tell you of his mission, of course. You- pure, perfect, untainted by the sins of this world- wouldn't understand. No one would. But you never questioned it, either. Most days, you were simply happy to be treated well (the implications of which he did not want to dwell on; Rollo had made himself a promise not to pry too much about your experience at Night Raven College).

Always so grateful. So kind. Too kind, sometimes, that it caught him off guard. Rollo had not had a friend since...

...Never mind, that.

So perfect. So pure. Everything he could ever aspire to be, but never would, all captured in one person. An angel sent for him, and him alone.

But just as there were things you wouldn't understand about him, there was a sea of mysteries about you.

He can't imagine how you could cause yourself such grief.

Delicately holding your face between his hands, palms gently pressed to each wet, salty cheek, as if you were made of porcelain. He wipes away your tears with his thumbs, not bothering to pull away to retrieve his handkerchief. He can't even think of that right now. Seeing you in such pain is tearing him into halves.

"I'm a bad person,"

"No," he says, almost immediately. His voice sounds more desperate than he would have liked. He can't help it.

"I am,"

He had already spent thousands of nights wishing for some miracle that could heal unseen wounds, but that desire had become stronger than ever now. He would have gladly torn his heart out of his chest and given it to you if it would help.

He hates it. He hates that you make him feel this way. He hates himself for caring so deeply.

Yet, he still can't hate you.

Never you.

"You're not," he insists. "Tell me what's happened. I will make it better."

You don't respond, and it kills him. However you managed to get such an awful idea about yourself, he can't say. Perhaps it came from Night Raven College. Perhaps it's even older than that.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because it is not true.

It's not true.

After all, if you are a bad person, then what does that make him?

You avoid his eyes. "You can't," there's long pause to take a shaky breath. "You can't make it better. I've tried... I've been trying... it doesn't go away. It's like... I've been shattered into a million pieces, and I can't be put back together again."

Rollo winces, though he doesn't show it on his face.

There are these things you do, these brief moments, soft exchanges of words, certain looks on your face, that remind him all too much of himself.

He pities you. He pities himself.

"Stop it," is all he can think to say. "Do not say such things about yourself. You are not broken. You are not evil. Do you think I would dirty myself by associating with such people?"

You're quiet for a long moment. He does not like the silence, so he keeps talking.

"I cannot address what you won't tell me, thought you should know that no matter what you were told at Night Raven College or elsewhere, here, you are valued. You are wanted. You are the most..."

Rollo hesitates for a moment, taking but a second to compose himself and rephrase whatever it was he was about to say.

"...the most exceptional student I have ever met. Your humility is honorable, but I will not allow you to drown in it. Let yourself feel this, recover, but know that here, at Noble Bell, you are nothing less than an angel."

Failing to find anything else to say, another long silence is cast over the room, though this one significantly less tense than the last. The only noise between the two of you is of crackling fire, though it sounds miles away when he looks at you like this.

Eventually, you speak. "...Thank you,"

"My pleasure," he mumbles, finally releasing the hold he's had on your face for the past several minutes and leaning back to get a better look at you. "...Let me help."

He sits a little closer, bringing your head to rest on his shoulder as he's done a thousand times before within the private confines of his room. Though, this time feels...

The purple and gold of his handkerchief cloud your vision as he gently dabs at your tears until he's satisfied, which he marks with a soft hum.

"Don't get up yet," he says after, allowing you to lean against his body for much longer than he has before. "The fire is still warm."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #rollo flamme x reader

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melonteee · 2 days

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I've seen many people complain that Oda in Post Time skip One Piece spends a lot of time worldbuilding and making up side characters on every island that distract from the main ones and the plot. While I can see where some people are coming from, as someone who reads comics from Marvel, I WISH the wordbuilding and side characters were that developed because most of the time, unless it's about space or magic or directly related to the plot, the world feels genuinely dead. Even the main setting of a story sometimes feels so dead, like for comparison

Around 2 years ago, they had an event where, at some point, an inhabited island got pretty much nuked. We spent 3 real life years on that island and the writers really couldn't make any readers care less about all the civilians (men, women, children and babies) dying as they wrote them as a single minded entity who didn't mind that fate if their government told them to do it so they used two of the "main characters" (the most selfish pricks imaginable who never even cared about the island and the people there as they are long-established villains + due to plot, were made part of the people who rule over the place and get the most privilege and best life there compared to everyone else), to pull the heartstrings of fans on how terrible it is for them to die this way and how tragic that these two had to die in this event... All because the plot hyperfocused on the island's government (not even interesting to read and full of what felt like highschool drama) instead of the people the government looks after and who would be the greatest casualty here. All of this didn't matter either because everyone on that island was brought back to life (that plot device was present even before the event so caring about anything was going to be hard from the get go) including the "main characters" that died.. Guess who got to come back to life first while many others were on a waiting list years down the line still ?

Now compare this to Oda and what he did with Lulusia. All things related to this island were mostly cover stories, many cuts back and forth in a "meanwhile in...", ... But once Chapter 1060 hits, we feel the tragedy and horror, we are at awe at how much destruction was unleashed on these people. That scene was made even more horrifying and sad when it was animated in Episode 1089...and then we learn the reason the island was obliterated had nothing to do with Sabo being there. Any island we knew who partook in a revolution could have been a target. We find out that even that was an excuse because the main goal was to test a weapon and nothing more. Oda is using a tool here called "less is more" for this island and it was sincerely enough for me to care A WHOLE LOT about Lulusia even if the main characters never set a single foot there and it wasn't part of the main plot. There wasn't even a main character who "died" there either to pull on our heart strings. We just saw these people triumphantly come out of a political crisis and enjoy their first hours of freedom after lord knows how long and then

They were all gone. Erased. And even if they didn't all see what was about to happen to them, they felt it. They died in fear

Oda is very very good at his world building, because he makes sure these islands are LIVED in, not just that they EXIST. It's all well and good to wipe out an island to show the political and immoral powers that be, but we don't feel the impact unless we SEE the people and culture existing on the island.

It's why now, with Vegapunk explaining the state of the world, we are getting reactions from EVERY corner of the globe. We are being reminded how big this world is, how lived in this world is, and how many people are suffering under the world gov. We CARE about this world, we care about the PEOPLE in this world, and Oda's spent years building his world up for THIS moment. It's really spectacular.

#ask #melonask #egghead spoilers #op spoilers

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the-offside-rule · 16 hours

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Zhou Guanyu (Stake Sauber) - Oblivious

Requested: NO BUT WE NEED MORE ZHOU CONTENT

Warnings: y/n being a complete idiot

GIF from @jamesvowles

Zhou Guanyu adjusted his sunglasses as he stepped into the cozy little coffee shop nestled in the corner of their favorite street. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wafted through the air, making him smile. He glanced around, quickly spotting Y/n at their usual corner table, engrossed in a book. "Hey, Y/n." He called out, walking over and taking a seat across from her. Y/n looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile. "Zhou! You're right on time."

"Wouldn't miss it." He replied, returning her smile. He waved at the barista, signaling their usual orders. "So, what's the book today?" He asked. "It's a mystery novel." She said, closing the book and setting it aside. "You know me, always trying to solve things before the characters do." He smiled. "Yeah, you always were the clever one," he said, leaning forward slightly. "So, any plans for the weekend?"

"Not really. Just the usual, maybe a movie marathon. What about you?" Y/n shrugged. "Actually, I was thinking-" Zhou began, choosing his words carefully, as Y/n looked up from her book in curiosity. "It would be nice to do something together. Maybe go for a walk in the park, or catch that new movie you've been talking about." Y/n set her book aside, beaming. "That sounds fun! I always enjoy hanging out with you." Zhou felt a flicker of disappointment at her casual tone but pressed on. "You know, Y/n, there's something special about spending time with you. It's like… you make everything better."

"Aww, thanks, Zhou. You're such a good friend." She said, patting his hand across the table. Zhou chuckled softly, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Of course, I am a good friend." He repeated. "But sometimes, I wish you could see me as more than that." Y/n tilted her head, a puzzled look crossing her face. "More than a friend? Like a best friend?" Zhou took a deep breath, deciding to be more direct. "Y/n, what if I told you that I like you? Like, really like you." Y/n blinked, clearly taken aback. "Wait, what?"

"I like you, Y/n." Zhou said, his voice steady but gentle. "More than just as a friend." For a moment, Y/n sat in stunned silence, processing his words. "You… like me? As in… you have feelings for me?" Zhou nodded, watching her intently. "Yes, exactly. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I wasn't clear enough." Y/n's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my gosh, Zhou, I had no idea! I thought you were just being your usual sweet self."

Zhou smiled, relieved to finally have everything out in the open. "I was being my sweet self because I care about you a lot. And I wanted to see if maybe you felt the same way." Y/n's expression softened, and she reached across the table to take his hand. "Guanyu, I… I'm surprised, but in a good way. I never realized… but now that I think about it, maybe I've been feeling the same way too." Zhou's heart soared at her words. "Really?"

Y/n nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, really. I guess I just needed a little nudge to see it." Zhou laughed, his relief turning into joy. "Well, I'm glad I finally said something. So, what do you say we organise a date?" Y/n squeezed his hand, her eyes twinkling. "I'd like that, Guanyu. I'd like that a lot."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x reader #zhou guanyu #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x you #zhou guanyu x y/n #zhou guanyu imagine #zhou guanyu oneshot #guanyu zhou #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic

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mytardisisparked · 1 day

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The Art of Playing Baseball

I watched "The Unnatural" and was super normal about it.

Read on AO3

The night is cool but he’s warm behind her. So warm. Every place they touch is like the pleasant sear of the sun on a day when you know you’re getting burnt but you’re having too much fun to care.

She’s giggling, high and girlish and with that rhythmless cadence she knows she has. Every time she laughs she feels his echo reverberate through her back from his chest. His laugh is low and his breath brushes her cheek. She laughs just to feel it echoed again.

“Hips before hands.” He reminds her once more, his hand drifting to her hip again in a way that makes her feel like she may crumble into dust right there in his arms. His lips brush her cheek this time and she wishes he would just drop the pretense and kiss her there. She’s surprised by how bold her thoughts are, but - then again - no she isn’t; her thoughts are always this bold, they just usually aren’t this loud.

The bat in their hands cracks again, the impact of the ball jolting up her arms and rattling her joints. For a second, she can feel the bones in her palms and knuckles acutely. It hurts, but she smiles; it’s the pain of playing baseball. It’s a pain she is more than willing to live with, in this moment.

“I’m out of balls!” The kid at the pitching machine shouts. “Give me a minute!” He runs off to the outfield to gather the few that they haven’t fouled out of the park.

They stand still for a moment, twin breaths moving through them both between her back and his chest. Slowly, she releases the bat and turns in his arms.

The breath that has been warming her cheek is now mingling with her own, leaving her cheek cold. As if he can sense this, his hand comes up to cup her face.

She’s kissing him before she thinks. She doesn’t want to think. This is not a night for thinking; he had said as much earlier. “We’re just gonna make contact. We’re not gonna think. We’re just gonna let it fly, Scully.”

Without a doubt, she’s flying now.

His lips are as warm as the rest of him and soft, absurdly soft. They move softly too, letting her set the tone of whatever will happen next. She increases the pressure and he matches it.

He tastes like sunflower seeds. She always figured he would. She thought about it, sometimes, as he would give her a handful to crack between her teeth. She hadn’t been fond of the flavor until his hands were the ones holding the bag out to her in offering. Now, she can’t imagine anything tasting better.

Her hands are tangled in the front of the jersey she’s almost embarrassed to admit looks really, really good on him. She’s never been into jocks, but this isn’t a jock - this is Mulder and the jersey is just another aspect of him. It’s an element of who he is that she’s slowly learning, slowly coming to appreciate.

The hand that isn’t on her cheek is on her hip again and suddenly she needs air.

She pulls back enough to leave his lips behind, but their foreheads, their hands, their chests are still touching. They’re still sharing air.

Awareness washes over her, tingling in her cheeks. She swallows down the panic that threatens to ruin the warmth and softness of the night. Slowly, she pulls back and looks up at him.

“I think, maybe, I could get behind baseball.”

He chuckles, gently swiping his thumb over her cheekbone. “It’s not always like this.”

“I know.” She swallowed again. “But maybe it’s worth it for the moments that are.”

His eyes are full of understanding. “I’ve always thought that.”

“Have you?”

“Have you ?” His eyebrow goes up: an invitation to either let it fly or let the ball pass.

She leans forward again. This is not a night for thinking.

#the x files #fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #MSR #the unnatural #HECKY CUTE AND FLIRTY BASEBALL EP WAS SO GOOOOOOOODDDDD #THEY WERE SO #AND I WAS ALL LIKE #so I ficced it

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eastwindmlk · 2 days

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A @jilymicrofics for the prompt Retire, Jan 14th

Word count: 838

It was strange, after more than half a century, to be cleaning up her office for the final time. To carefully wrap her trusty tea set in yesterday’s Prophet, sift through the boxes of paperwork in search of what to archive, what to keep and what to finally bin.

As she sorted through an assortment of old assignments and Christmas cards from a bygone age, Minerva finds herself reminiscing. Once familiar faces and voices curled from the depths of her mind, a fond smile on her face.

The corners of her lips trembled like her aged hands when her fingers brushed along a script that gave her pause. Because even after all these years, all these hundreds of students, she could still tell whose penmanship this was.

The large letters crammed onto the parchment, like he knew he was going to run out of space for his sweeping t’s and large loops. The words slanting upwards as if wanting to escape from the paper.

She did not doubt that, at the time, that was precisely what he’d had on his mind, while stuck doing a detention assignment for her. It was supposed to be an essay, but in true James Potter fashion, he’d ignored the explicit instruction and instead composed a letter.

Dearest Minerva,

As we sit across from each other in your office, a pot of lapsang souchong between us, I am aware you are pretending to be cross with me. For the sake of posterity, I will pretend with you. Though we both know that they deserved every miserable second.

In the future, however, I will strive for a more creative solution. Even if I think turning their belts into snakes was quite a nifty piece of transfiguration. I will let you be the judge of that. Being the expert and all that.

Speaking of the future, I am supposed to write an essay about where I see myself next year. Which I could have answered effortlessly a fortnight ago. But things changed. Every paper is full of it now. And I refuse to sit idle just because I happened to have been born into a family that fits into their narrow view of our world.

One year from now, I will be as restless as ever. Using the privilege that comes with my name to help those who cannot help themselves. However, unlike before, I will not humour myself with the delusion that this can be achieved by mere words.

I will gladly put my wand with my conviction and face whatever is in store beyond the safety of these walls. Together with my friends, we will make a difference.

My friends and I are talking about getting a place together, somewhere nice and lively. We were hoping to travel, see some of the world. Those plans are on hold, at least for now. Though none of us will say it aloud, we hope that the four of us will be around for it.

So, we spend evenings talking about this trip, imagining places to go and things to do in the hopes that the four of us will get to go.

Hopefully, I will be dating Lily Evans. (Please don’t tell her I said that.) I think she is finally coming round to me. She no longer glares in my direction, though I can still feel her eyes on me sometimes.

Maybe I am crazy, but I can tell it is her just from the way it feels. Her watching me is special somehow. Often I itch to turn to her, to catch her looking. To catch a glimpse of her smile or her fluster. Just the fraction of a moment where I can believe she might actually feel the same way.

Or maybe not the same way. I would not wish this complete and utter agony on her. If she does come to fall for me, I hope she falls softer. I hope that I am not too blind to see and catch her before the rough landing.

That is only if I will ever be lucky enough to be enough for her. To have grown into a person, she can depend on rather than the childish prick (I am so sorry, did not mean to curse.) I used to be.

I am afraid I am running out of space. I could fill several more rolls of parchment (Which is not me asking for more) with hopes and wishes for the year ahead. Some more achievable (Pass my N.E.W.T. s) and some more hopeful (Snog Lily Evans. Again, please don’t tell her I wrote any of this.)

Your favourite student,

James Potter

Her fingers crumpled the paper where she gripped it tight, a lump rising in her throat. Her eyes scanned the content of the letter once more before pressing it briefly to her heart before placing it atop her pile of keepsakes.

Minerva pushed herself to her feet, in dire need of a break and craving a cup of lapsang souchong.

#jily fic #jple #jily #james potter #lily evans #minerva mcgonagall #jily microfic #marauders fanfiction

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halleyscomet14 · 2 days

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Hey, I'm not sure if your taking requests at the moment but if you are could you write a billie eilish fic, fem reader who struggles with ocd. I know everyone who had this, experiences this completely differently. For myself I'm constantly paranoid about germs and someone breaking into my house. I'm constantly checking if doors and windows are locked and hiding spots in my room where someone could hide just to feel safe, and making sure my room is clean 24/7 which gives me a bit of stability. I wash my hands alot, I hate touching door handles so I always pull my sleeve up to cover my hands. To make myself feel more safe, I tap an abject made from wood 4 times. I know that sounds stupid but in my mind that's the only thing keeping me safe. I just need some billie fluff, she reassures us that we are safe.

Thank you so much ❤️

as long as i’m here, no one can hurt you

relationship: billie eilish x female reader

warnings: panic attack, fluff, comfort, ocd

word count: 1816

summary: as a kid you’ve always dealed with ocd. one night when you come home from date night with billie, something’s seem off.

a/n: i’m not exactly familiar with ocd, but my roommate has it so she helped me write this! i based it off the things mentioned in the request and stuff my roommate went through. part of this story really happened in real life, and her (my rommie’s) boyfriend was there with her. shout out to my love lucija 🫶

ever since you were a kid, small details bugged you. whether it was someone not washing their hands after they come in the house, or jumping on the bed with their shoes, or even not double checking the lock, there was always something that bothered you. something that you just had to double check. when you were with your friends, it never affected them, really. but when it comes to relationships, where you share a house with them, you had to be extra cautious to fulfill your desires. you had to not double check, but triple check the locks, you had to make sure your partner was clean of germs, you had to make sure everything was in place for you to continue your day care free.

so when you started your relationship with billie, you warned her about your habits, and how sometimes you can be a bit overprotective. it was nothing too serious though! you were just looking after her anyways! billie totally understood, as she went through some mental issues before too. every time there was a reason to panic, billie would soothe you and make you feel okay.

it was day like any other. after days of planning, billie could get a day off to spend it with you. because of this, you guys decided to go to a restaurant, a restaurant that wasn’t too crowded because of billie’s status. it had been a very successful night, you and your girlfriend were having fun and you both were enjoying yourselfs as you eased into the conversation. you guys ate well, paid and got out of the restaurant. chatting towards the car, billie got the door for you before going behind her car to hop in. you were roaming through the glovebox looking for sanitizer, and when you found it you applied it all the way up to your wrist, rubbing it in thoroughly. then you turned towards billie, who was settling in to the car and offered her some, which she took. she knew now that you would have trouble holding her hand before knowing she’s free of germs.

the ride home wasn’t quiet, and you had a nice conversation. both of you were laughing after a night out; yet you were tired just wishing for a night where you could cuddle and fall asleep in each others arms. the car slowed down as you arrived into the driveway. you grabbed your stuff before opening the door and getting out of the black car. billie went beside you and held your hand as you walked towards the door. billie pulled out her key, and while both of you stud there by each others side (billie still trying to unlock the door), you let your head fall to her shoulder. billie pushed opened the door, and before you went in billie got up on her tiptoes leaving you a small peck on your forehead. you were immediately filled with love from her small acts like this, only making you blush. she pulled you in by your hand, and into house. she let go, walking in to take off her shoes before slipping into her soft slippers.

meanwhile, you also got off your shoes as you looked around. that’s not right, one of billie’s coats was on the floor instead of the coat hanger. it was summer, there was no reason to go out with a coat, so she couldn’t have tried it on. also she went out with a crop top. that wouldn’t fit her. you looked around to see if there was anything else. usually, your keys (which had a long string attached to them) were on top of the shoe cabinet, in a small bowl where other misc items where places. yet they seemed to be on the edge of the table and not the bowl. something was out of the ordinary. you looked through the door into the living room, where billie leaned onto the edge of the couch, texted someone. the bookcase wasn’t in order, and random books where placed on the floor in a stack.

something was seriously wrong. nothing was like how you left it. maybe it’s just a coincidence, you thought to yourself. “billie?” you yelled into the living room as you placed your shoes into their corner. “yeah babe?” she responded, looking up from her phone and to the left towards you. “did you check out some books before we left, possibly?” you said, as you placed both of your hands on your waist. billie looked towards the small bookcase, mostly filled with law books. “mhh, nope. why whats up?” she said turning back to you. you stared into the books in despair. “did your mom and dad come over to drop something off today? maybe when we were out?” you inquired. billie didn’t quite pick up on what you were in about. “no. they would have told

me. hey, y/n is everything okay?” she asked, tilting her head to the side a bit. “yeah. just wondering something.” you replied. you got out of the living room and went to the hall. you started walking towards the bathroom.

on the way there, you picked up the plastic bat billie had from an old photoshoot. you had convinced yourself that someone had broke into your house while you were away. you couldn’t comprehend how you could let such a thing, even after making sure everything is locked and closed. you took small steps, bat it hand. with tiny steps and a sharp turn you flicked on the bathroom light, making everything visible, everything but an intruder. you glanced around the room once more before exiting, not forgetting to close the light.

you made your way down the hall to the guest bedroom that was on the right of your study. turning on the light, your eyes searched the room for anything out of the ordinary to find nothing. you checked once more, around the blind spots and such. you held the plastic bat up high as you entered your study, the light was left on which was something you always check before you leave. something was definitely wrong and you had just proven it. the law book on the desk was opened. you entered deep into the room to see which page was on. the page was an old subject, you hadn’t studied since last semester.

still staring at the room you walked backwards. you held your bat up high, ready to hit whatever came you way. you slowly backed out of the room, until… “babe.” hearing the familiar voice, you quickly turned in fright. your acts were cut off as you met billie’s well known ocean blue eyes. you looked around you. putting the bat down, you let it clank against the ground. you make long lasting eye contact with each other. billie stood still watching your acts. she seemed calmed. your eyes flashed between the hall and her.

this felt too much. had you got something wrong. you felt fear. you felt your hands start to shake and your chest started tightening. you started panicking with the thought of putting your girlfriend at risk. you looked around the room in worry. all of this was probably visible. “babe?” billie asked you, her two hands went up to your arms, holding them. you felt her warmth as you hyperventilated. this happened from time to time, billie knew how to treat it. “baby?” she said a bit louder now. her hand went up to your cheek, lightly tapping it to get your attention. “hey… breathe with me y/n” she said, still looking up to you, into your eyes. but you were too busy making messed up scenarios. you finally looked back at billie when you felt her light touch on your arm, the rubbing motion got you out of your mind.

billie started gesturing at you to breathe accordingly. with her hand, she signaled where to inhale and exhale, as she did the exercise with you. you slightly calmed down with each passing moment. only to realize the panic you must’ve put your dear girlfriend in. everything was a bit too overwhelming at that moment. you knew that billie would be scared for you. it was the last thing on your list to make billie upset. you felt a tear run down your face, as billie cupped your cheeks with both hands.

“y/n…” she said, caressing your cheeks. your hands started shaking once more.

you broke down right there in her very arms. tears streamed down your face as you sniffed your nose in between. she held you, making you feel safer with small phrases such as “i’m here with you” or “you’re safe with me” or “nothings out of order”. everything she said made you feel a bit better in recovery from that moment earlier. she drew shapes on your back with her fingertips, the was she knew you like it.

“baby… you know nothing could have happened. we’re safe here. as long as i’m here, no one can hurt you.” she said running her hands through your hair. “it’s such and unlikely thing to happen. you don’t have to freak out. i know it’s hard for you, but just trust me you’ll be fine.” she says. you let your head out of her shoulder. still, you hic in between your sniffs. you stare deep into her eyes as she gives you a warm smile. you once again bury yourself into her shoulder, continuing crying. “y/n it really is okay. all of those things have explanations.” she says, reassuring you once more.

“i’m sorry” you murmur into her shoulder. she pulls you by your head and pulls you into a short kiss. “it’s okay, mama.” she says, smiling at you. she reaches both of her hands on your cheeks to wipe away your tears with her thumbs. “you don’t need to apologize. you did nothing wrong.” she continues. you smile back, cheeks burning as you feel how red it could be right now. you place your forehead on hers, closing your eyes. she pulls you in for a small peck.

later that they while you’re in bed, reading your book, billie comes in the room and leans against the doorframe. “hey babe, wanna try these fruit that finneas and claudia left by earlier? theyre something called starfruit or like carambola or something.” she says holding plastic bag. “i’ve never heard of them but they are amazing. living for them right now.” she continues. “oh they stopped by? why didn’t they come in?” you asked billie. billie turned to face the plastic bag. “oh, they left them while we were out. you know how finneas has a spare key?” she said as moment of realization hit both of you. “oh you’ve gotta be shitting me.” you say as billie starts to laugh.

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birdmitosis · 23 hours

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💔 for the chapter 3 princesses?

💔 An angsty headcanon

Like Tower before Her, Apotheosis cannot really emotionally connect to individual people, but while Tower would be unhappy and lonely if She never had people around Her at all, Apotheosis has trouble with that. Individuals are just so small, even if they wanted to get near Her. The Protagonist would be the only one who could ease that for Her; without him, Apotheosis really is a supremely lonely god.

Den can still hear the cabin and the basement -- Her cage, Her pit -- talks to Her. It's why She's starving, malnourished. It tells Her that She deserves it after what She did.

Eye of the Needle, if Adversary progresses to that point, is far less capable of being able to readjust to a more normal life. She has gotten to a point where She constantly feels unsatisfied by never having the fight She was denied. She might not be forever doomed to that, but She may fall into the trap of eternally searching for it.

Fury's rage is stoked by a severe self-loathing. She hates what She has become and hates the Protagonist for turning Her into it. Without the Protagonist around, that rage is still there, but Her self-loathing eats at Her more. She is less than what She was, She thinks, and She can never get it back. She was denied that. She takes this to mean She can never be better, so She embraces being worse even though She doesn't want to. (As a less angsty headcanon, this makes me think She might get along with Witch/Thorn/that version of Wild.)

Burned Grey remembers trying so hard to accept the Protagonist destroying what few small desires She had: to leave the cabin with him, and to not die. She tried to accept his decision, even with tears in Her eyes, but now She accepts Her desires fully even if they hurt both Her and him. She would, I think, be the vessel most upset about never being allowed Her wish in the end if not for the full understanding that seems to come with reuniting with the Shifting Mound.

Drowned Grey cannot emote and cannot quite access Her own emotions in Her death. Unlike the Burned Grey, where the dry heat that consumes the entire Construct is an expression of Her desire to burn it all down and destroy it all -- which She fully feels and is aware of -- the constant rain in the Drowned Grey's route is Her sorrow fully externalized. She can't cry and She can't even quite feel like She wants to cry anymore, but the Construct itself weeps. She thinks that drowning the Protagonist is making him feel how She choked on Her own blood... It isn't, but She does want him to feel and understand Her: the emotions She can no longer access, She needs him to be fully faced with Her sorrow at being betrayed, at not being trusted, at not being understood.

Moment of Clarity is as broken down as the Protagonist and any of his voices. They are not the only ones who have done all of this over and over and over and over and over again, after all. And they have all exhausted every other option before finally freeing Her solely because they can no longer avoid it. They can no longer do anything else. The tender moment She shares with the Protagonist is almost despite Herself... He is finally, finally letting Her out and it almost looks like he made the choice to do so. She can almost pretend he made the choice to do so. But he tried so hard to put it off until choices just didn't exist for either of them anymore, didn't he?

Thorn still has so much Witch in Her. This isn't the headcanon; it's obvious if you choose literally any of the options other than finally freeing Her. My headcanon is that if She would, of course, sometimes continue to backslide into being more like Witch in negative situations. And She would hate it. There'd be a lot of uncertainty in Her still if She could actually be better, if She wasn't still the worst.

Networked Wild, if She could actually escape like that -- even with the Protagonist and the voices -- would still always feel incomplete and too afraid to ever risk looking at and facing what She'd done, what they had done, and what it might mean for all of them. They would probably always be doomed to fall apart at some point.

Wounded Wild feels incomplete, even if She will always feel grateful for the kindness, empathy, and companionship She receives "despite" being incomplete. Maybe She can work past that eventually, but it will take her a long time, and also a long time to really feel okay facing who and what She had been and done. (Again, a slightly less angsty headcanon, but I think this means Wounded Wild-from-Beast would get along well with Thorn.)

Wraith wants so, so badly to be able to heal Her relationship with the Protagonist and to forgive him and the voices. She wants it so badly She can't let herself realize it. The one moment She allows herself to is when, if they toss themselves and Her into the abyss, She asks "WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" Her laughter that follows is at Herself for Her folly.

SPECIAL CASES:

Arms Race/No Way Out doesn't know how to be anything other than a weapon, doesn't know how to do anything other than hurt the Protagonist. Doesn't know how to want anything else. She is joy in Her purpose, but She is nothing outside of it. She likes him, yes, but She doesn't know what to do with it. She is -- ironically, given the name of the alternate Chapter IV -- empty, maybe even more so than the Deconstructed Damsel.

Mutually Assured Destruction/Empty Cup panics because She does not know how to be anything other than what She is. If She steps out into the unknown -- if She changes -- what is She? Is She nothing if She is not the one who hurts the Protagonist? All She can do when Her armor and sharp edges crumple and strip away is to put Her heart in his hand and trust that he will be able to lead Her to what comes next.

Stranger doesn't have a Chapter III at all, but so They aren't left out entirely: what happened shook Them all up really badly at first. It wasn't just Harsh, Neutral, and Soft all pleading with the Protagonist at the end of their chapter, but Emo and even Monster as well.

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brucewaynehater101 · 3 days

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"If it's closer to fanon Tim, he would feel guilty for Jason. Closer to canon Tim would either be indifferent to Jason's troubles or he'd feel glad (maybe even a little spiteful) that Jason is facing the consequences of his actions. He would, however, feel guilty for how the revelation affects the street kids."

I have to say I disagree with this. Firstly; with the whole post you're framing this as though Jason beat up a child... which like, true, but also Jason is hardly two years older than Tim. I know comics make him seem aged up, but its simply not the case. (dont @ me if u know this cuz u probably do know this already)

Secondly, Canon Tim.... doesn't hate Jason?? Like, really not at all. If there is any dislike, I'd see it as when Jason is acting particularly villainous, he treats him like any other rogue. Though they don't necessarily interact a lot when Jason is in his villain moments. It's other bats who take care of that, so there's really no beef there.

When Jason isn't having an evil moment, honestly a good word for what Tim feels for him is either pity at worst, admiration at best. With the admiration, I'm not talking about Tim liking him as Robin 'cause that's honestly pretty fanon, I'm talking about how Tim admires his tenacity and determination to keep going even when he feels like everyone is against him. And Tim wants to support him! He sees Jason struggling a lot and wishes Jason would accept help- hence the pity.

I sincerely doubt that Tim would ever feel glad or spiteful towards Jason. He's gotten him back for the whole 'beating the shit out of him' thing. Which really, wasn't really about Tim? Plus its far in the past at this point.

Not to mention Tim is one hell of a badass, he doesn't wallow in self-pity, and I don't think he'd want to interfere with RH's stuff and would probably stop the information leak himself, or even deny the rumors with something like "Oh that? It was just a disagreement/misunderstanding lol the rumors got out of hand,"

Sorry if this was too much, I like ur blog and the things u say, this one just felt really misinformed.

Thank you for letting me know. Reading the post back, I can see how I worded it wrong. I appreciate you giving me the chance to correct that and clarify.

Yes, Jason and Tim are close in age. However, Jason's age (as far as I'm aware) isn't known to civilians. Because of his helmet and bulkiness, a kid would view Jason as an Adult. If they knew his age and then the fight with Robin, that would probably be an acceptable level of violence for them. That's just two kids beating each other up, then. From their perspective, though, Robin is a Kid and Jason is an Adult. A possible solution to gain back their trust could be to disclose how old they were at the time (they might not even need to disclose any details or reasoning with that).

Later in canon, Jason and Tim start getting along. If the reveal happened at that point, Tim would not feel gleeful and spiteful. He'd feel bad for Jason. That is entirely my bad for not making that distinction.

Tim is, undeniably, an asshole at times. He wants to do good, tries to help people, and overall is kind. He's badass and I love him, but he can be an asshole (particularly to Steph). He, especially his inner dialog, sometimes makes asshole comments. This includes Jason. To add on, when Jason was beating him up and demanding Tim to answer if he thought he was good (skill wise), Tim answered yes twice. To me, this seems like a petty/spiteful response. That or Tim is just being honest af about his feelings, not giving a shit he's taking a beating.

However, Tim would not hold this grudge against Jason. One of his better qualities is to not hold grudges against most people (even those that he arguably should). It's why some villains/rogues/enemies become his allies or end up becoming fond of him.

Tim may feel glad that Jason is experiencing the consequences of his actions, but not for himself. This would be during his time as Robin exclusively. Red Robin would not feel this way.

Spiteful, though, was the wrong word to use. Tim, as the loveable asshole that he can sometimes be, might be sort of happy that Jason, in his villain era, is being shown the effects of his actions and possible wrongs in his ways. Happy also seems to not match, but the emotions wheel isn't really giving me an alternative.

Tim would, despite his feelings, hate the effect of this on everyone. The street kids, Jason, and the batfam would be negatively impacted by this, and Tim would try everything he could to stop or mitigate the outcomes. He would never release this information willingly nor stand aside to let it happen. Robin may internally say some shit about Jason and the situation if it blew up in their faces, but you're right that he wouldn't purposefully make shit worse. He would actively work to fix the entire mess.

I really am thankful that you helped me articulate this.

It's 100% my bad that I dropped the ball so hard. If y'all see me fuck up like that again, feel free to let me know. As long as you're not mean about it, I appreciate constructive criticism.

Imma edit the previous post this is about and link it to this one so that I fix the mischaracterization

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!

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aereasrage · 19 hours

Text

Notes on The Favorite

summary: a little more insight into the relationships princess reader holds with her family (when ur circle small but all yall crazy). (links: part 1 /part 2/part 3)

cw: platonic!yan, allusions to religion, cheating, open relationships, mentions of pregnancy, crazy is running through this family like the tomb raider, baela and jace saw you from across the bar and liked your vibe

notes: everyone in this family is like save me princess reader princess reader save me

Helaena is often regarded as simple but she knows her family well. She is well aware of her mother’s preference for you but she doesn’t mind. At least it isn’t Aegon. You’re actually kind to her, she knows her words sometimes go over your head but you listen patiently with a smile. And though her children love her, it is sometimes overwhelming to care for them so you often offer to mind them for her while she has some time alone. Helaena doesn’t just enjoy being alone, she requires it and ever since she’s been wed it seems as though it is forbidden for her to simply be alone. She appreciates you for simply knowing what lines to tread lightly across, for never making her have to reject you and your touch. She’s more willing to accept your touch, it feels careful, intended for her rather than for yourself. It feels truthful to your heart.

When you were pregnant with your third child, she gave you an emerald beetle brooch and she embroidered a cap for the baby with little lady bugs. She seemed to be enamored with the child even before her birth, in a way she hadn’t been with her own children. It made her smile to rub your belly and speak to her niece. “Did you know that a beetle’s shell shines many colors under the sun? Sometimes even I cannot be certain which is true. It can only be supposed for some time, at least. It is much like our fate…to be pulled into different lights, made to show the colors others want to see,” she murmured as she felt the kicks of your daughter in your womb. Her words sent a shiver down your spine. Although Helaena was the sibling whose company you’d now enjoyed the most, it was sometimes a bit eerie to be with her when she was in such a state of preoccupation. Even so, you were glad she seemed so interested in her little niece. She was better with your children than her own, it wasn’t her fault, it was just that sometimes it was difficult to see her own children. To know that their sorrows, their little lives were hers was frightening, it was too confronting.

It was easier to look to you. Alicent had always held you as an example for her and even though she had long since given up thinking her eldest daughter would learn to behave like you, Helaena had never stopped wanting to emulate the way you navigated the world. Even though you were the little sister, you had an ease about you that never came to her. Such a thing as being a princess came easily to you, she had understood the difference between you two from day one. When anxiety rattled her system as she carried her first child, she looked to you and thought that if her little sister could be well even married to Aegon, even after giving him a son, she would too. She had been relieved that you had married first, to give her some direction, your mother was really no example in her case.

Once when you two were small, she had woken from a dream and went to your chambers but as she stood outside the door, she heard your mother’s voice and paused. She felt an indelible urge to eavesdrop though she never had before, she wanted to witness this moment, one stolen between her mother and sister. One she was not meant to be part of. She eased the door open slightly to peer in. She had not broken the moment. You two were at the vanity, Alicent behind you, brushing your hair gently, cooing such flattery. Helaena had thought to envy you but truly, she wished to be so close to you as your mother was. She wished to soothe you as your elder sister and say the right things to make you smile instead of leaning on you so heavily. That moment made her feel so ashamed of sneaking off to your bedroom to curl her body around yours for comfort from her horrid dreams. How small you were next to your mother, how young you behaved. Was she forcing you to grow up just for her sake?

You and Aemond seemed years older than her, from her point of view. She was only just coming to understand what she’d already seen before. She was just coming to understand the world and how her cryptic dreams fit into it. She had only been vaguely troubled by her dreams before, only so much so that listening to her baby sister breathe would soothe her back into sleep. She was wrong to be so calm then, even so, she felt wrong to be so overly anxious now. She didn’t know what to feel. Sometimes she was like a newborn, red all over and crying from the rush of sensation all at once. She turned to Aemond for protection, to you for guidance. You were her only template, when she felt the fear rising up in her, she need only turn to you and mimic as best she could.

In contrast, Aemond was a little guard dog for your sake. What Criston was to his mother, he’d be for you, he’d long ago decided. When your egg hatched and his didn’t, he was humiliated. Before you, he only wished to appear strong and capable and he’d even been undermined by Aegon’s egg hatching, the sibling he deemed least worthy. How were you to take him seriously? How were you to believe he could protect you from Aegon— from anyone? Part of the reason he was so desperate to claim a dragon was to show off to you. To appeal to you. Back when he thought he’d marry you, he had even thought doing so would make you think more of him as your future husband. Obviously, it hadn’t happened that way and Aemond was silently crushed. Yet another bitter reminder that the order in which Aegon and himself had been born superseded everything else.

Something strange began to happen inside his mind as soon as you were wed to Aegon, it was as though you became a lady from a song. You were out of reach, permanently, you’d become his brother’s queen. More than flesh, you were now almost mythical to him and more than that, dealt a tragic fate and needing of protection as your mother had been. A saint-like figure for him to ground himself in all his violent, envious thoughts on. Keeping his sword for you made him feel better than he was, it turned his yearning for bloodshed into something like honor. For any drop of blood spilled in your name had to be the highest will of the Warrior. Someday, the realm would tell your name in stories alongside his. He would be remembered as the knight who so loved his sister, so protected her that he became a standard of devotion and love. You were like your mother in purer form, devoid of her violence, of her envy, of her malice and sadness. He longed to protect that version of you. He longed for you to look to him as your protector. It would be something, at least. If he was always fated to covet his brother’s bride, it would do nicely for you to save a place in your heart for him.

Criston was as much of a father to you as he could be without risking too much. Indeed, he was the perfect father for you, one that would not disturb you and your mother. He could spare you kind words, a story or two, his arm when you rose from your seat tipsy on wine after a feast. In private, when you were in your mother’s chambers, he’d tolerate all sorts of silly behavior from you with infinite patience that he lacked with others. He was not just slack about caring what you did, he simply enjoyed you too much to be upset at you even when you had a bit of fun at his expense. You enjoyed unearthing his unbridled care for you by pretending to be hurt, even more so because no matter how many times you did it, he always believed you. Even when he got upset at you for pretending to fall or cut yourself on something and pouted, he was just as susceptible to falling for it again simply because if there was half the chance you were hurt, it was worth looking foolish.

Criston was easy to fluster, it was cute of him. Fun was in short supply in your life and you appreciated him allowing you to make a fool of him every now and again. He understood what you meant to Alicent and that in and of itself required him to care for you more but he himself harbored a certain care for you as well which was separate from her. He was overprotective of you, in a way that could come across as condescending were it not from his lips; “Princess, I beg you not run, you must walk carefully and be careful not to hurt yourself.” When you were pregnant with Aemon, it was; “Princess, I beg you not exert yourself, I wish that you would call on me when I am needed,” when all you were doing was walking down the stairs, “Princess, it is unwise to eat as little as you do,” when all you had done was say you weren’t hungry after spoiling your dinner with sweets. When you were little it was him scolding Aemond for taking you by the arm and tugging you about the keep to go play. “My prince,” he’d said sternly, stepping in front of the two of you. “The princess is but small, I do not believe my prince wishes to see her harmed. You must not handle her so roughly.” Most recently, it was; “My princess, I beg you not to move with so much vigor while with child, you must preserve your health as best you can.” Gods bless his heart.

For Jace, his love for you seemed primordial, the touchstone of his life. His memory of you went back further than his memory of realizing he was different. He gravitated toward you even as the years went by, unable to simply forget what it was like to just be children together. If ever there were anything to make him feel as though he wanted to stay in the keep, it was you. Before your eyes, he’d show no insecurity, admit no uncertainty as to his place. In doing so, he feared he would lose you. As long as he held himself as a prince, perhaps he would be worthy to wed his aunt, the princess. Your affirmation of him was something that held him together even in the face of the most egregious mistreatment. Even as whispers caught on the wind, he kept his mind trained on you, on the first time you ever admitted — alone in the dragonpit, that you wished to wed him and be his queen. He would have you for his queen, he decided long ago. He had not forgotten. And he had oft thought of what would become of whichever man your mother tried to foist you off on.

All men endeavor to find their gods on earth, Jace was no different— except that instead of finding them in service to greater purpose, he found divinity through serving you. He dreamt of having the strength to reach out and truly take in hand what he had wanted all along. You were dreamy, in love with the songs of brave knights, ever anxious, ever seeking a perfect love and protection that none of your potential suitors would ever give to you. He was born to be that gallant knight for your sake, to take up his sword and anoint himself to you. You were as the living embodiment of a fertility goddess to him, a goddess of abundance and pleasure. Some divine will, he thought, brought him to your feet. He would not be convinced that his place was not at your side. Even if you demanded sacrifice as all goddesses do. Let blood be spilled for your sake, if it was the price of a man to seduce a deity. To him, the war between houses would be a holy war, a war of faith. If he could vanquish all the hands that sought to separate you, hurt you, hurt him and his mother; only then he would be worthy. Only then would the pain be turned to virtue.

You once asked him why he was so trusting of you, why he was so willing to give you his complete devotion. He hadn’t known how to answer at the time in a way which would not reveal his madness to you. He had been born with a sword hanging over his head, born with a cross to bear with him from the moment he was conscious of himself but when he was in your presence, a divine fervor came over him. A ritual madness bloomed in his heart that felt to him as he thought kneeling to pray in the sept should. It was only when he saw you that he was reminded that the gods bless even the morbid in their own strange ways. You were the reason he understood why some devout of the faith were called to self flagellate. There was a divinity in pain, too. He found it in his yearning for you.

He participated in a tourney for your name day once, it had left him with a broken rib but he’d fought hard to be able to name you queen of love and beauty. Truthfully, he had not even noticed the near black bruising of his skin until he was out of your sight. And even then, he’d delayed sending for a maester because you’d followed him back to his chambers to look after him. That was where it begun, the crux of your divine affair. The carnal part of it, anyway. In his lap, his armor spattered with blood and a sharp pain singing through his body, you took his face into your forgiving hands and kissed him timidly. His eyes were reverent as they looked up at you. His breath had sped up, desperate, near hyperventilating as you pulled away. He was aching but he was in ecstasy as well. Trying to savor the moment between you two despite his disbelief, his agony and his hunger for more and ever more. That was the way in which he became a man, in his pain, his restraint and his immense pleasure.

Aegon visited brothels and had countless romps with random women even after your marriage but he never saw it as being untrue, at least he tried not to. He only sought whores who reminded him of you. He only sought whores in the first place because he knew well you were a chaste sort of woman, the kind that your mother had expected you to be and to lust after him was not in your nature no matter your love for him which he believed ran deep. Besides that, he was also somewhat aware of the burden of his needs for affection in general. Your mother already scolded him for how he had stolen much of your time away from your children so that you might comfort and reassure him in his weakness. When he stumbled into your chambers drunk and covered in vomit, you peeled off his clothes and bathed him, washing his body so tenderly that it made him hard. Such a touch, such an affection. He did his best not to push his luck and pressure you into bed but how could he resist not stealing your time as he did? How could he resist trying to make his needs greater than that of your children? Still, he at least tried not to do anything to lose your affection completely like treating you as a whore. You were his sister-wife, the things whores that did, exerting themselves trying to keep up with his desires, he understood that it was not the work of a princess. It was not for you to give more of yourself than you already had (though he’d gladly have all of you were it not for his mother’s voice stuck in his head) nor to debase yourself like a peasant girl might for a few coins. So he vented his sexual desires onto ‘lesser women’ who should have no qualms about lowering themselves to his desires. Your mother would surely have had something to say about it if he did keep you in bed as often as he sought to, anyway.

Baela, having seen her betrothed name another woman Queen of Love and Beauty, should have been devastated or otherwise furious. If she were a conventional lady with a conventional lord husband, she surely would be. But she and Jace shared an understanding that was beyond the comprehension of the traditional gentry of Westeros. She had no cause to be possessive of Jace, she had no desire for him to do the same for her. Jace had wanted to be betrothed to you first and Baela was not unaware of this but that was not to say he resented her for what could not be nor that he cared to punish her for not being you. After becoming siblings sharing the burden of their losses, the two shared a love and connection different than that of most betrothed couples, a love hewn in sorrow and in growth— they never restricted each other, never suspected or accused because they had grown parallel to each other in all the years of tragedy after tragedy. They each knew what the other was, what they saw of the world and what they wanted from it. They would not bar each other from pleasure nor from love, not from each other and not from potential others either just so long as the two of them remembered each other as future man and wife. They were the only ones who understood the profound loneliness that had been born inside both of them, the restlessness and the helplessness. They could not deny each other, not when they were each other’s grounding forces in a world that changed so dramatically each moment in tragedy. It had been that way since the day they first joined hands before Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Baela had been seen as a scandalous lady who’d loved many girls and many boys and been free to do so by her father’s leave. Perhaps to the lords of the realm it didn’t make sense that such could be the case while she also loved Jace with all of her heart but the fact remained. Thus, she had been the first to recognize Jace’s feelings for you, he had not hid them from her as she had never hid anything from her. She knew he loved the green princess. She didn’t take that personally, nor was she jealous not even when she grew into a young lady and began to understand what it entailed. After all, she had perhaps a keener eye for women than even he. Perhaps if she’d been close enough to you, she’d have had you around her fingers like she’d been with ladies in the past. She knew from experience that the demure kind such as you were the most delightful on the tongue. The only thing which concerned her was the inherent political risk you carried as Alicent’s precious daughter who went almost nowhere without her— which she made clear to Jace. “If you’re going to fuck her, make sure you’re certain she has loyalty to you— to us,” she’d told him and she was pleased that he’d listened. It wouldn’t do for the Queen to have more reason to insist violence on him. When you gave birth to brown haired children which were obviously Jace’s, it served as proof of how tightly wound everyone was around your little finger, for no one said a word about bastardy. You kept your reputation squeaky clean somehow and that eased Baela’s fears somewhat but still there was the urgency to have you at their side for the certainty of her betrothed’s children, the need to have more certainty of your loyalty that didn’t come from being utterly enamored with Jace’s cock…and even still there was the underlying need to experience you herself. Many a night, Jace had slipped into her chambers and regaled her, as she demanded, with the details of how you tasted and felt to him as his cock pressed up against her clothed cunt in a slow rhythm of strokes and a desperation for the delicious friction that made her clit throb under her small clothes.

It was a delicate balance of caution and desire. She hadn’t minded you having Jace’s children on a personal level, (she cared little for the thought of going to her birthing bed so quickly and likely her children with Jace would be wed to yours) so much as a practical one as it presented an obvious dilemma even with the acceptance of everyone in the keep. The fact that these children were considered Aegon’s posed a great obstacle. She might have faulted Jace for who he chose to fall for but she knew better, life had denied them much comfort, exploration and pleasure. Jace had not denied her curiosities, her tests of pleasures and plays for the love of foolish boys and girls. But she also knew just as well as Jace did that tensions were being built around them all the time and had been since they were but small. She had faith that the opportunity to solve the problem would present itself. Aegon would die, soon or late but probably soon. And then, you’d be taken to wife along with Baela like the conquerers. If they were lucky, his and the rest of the greens’ hubris would do them in without interference, if not…she and Jace were both no stranger to the heft of a sword.

#hotd x reader #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader

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fumifooms · 21 hours

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I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

#My only nitpick is that canonically they rarely hang out after work and you wrote that they did it often but that’s lit the only thing #Chilchuck tims #dunmeshi memes #ask #I have friends big fans of the timeline where Chil is one of those who miraculously live to 70 #Marcille is always bracing herself year after year to lose him and it just becomes anticlimatic #Chilchuck the old fart grumpy husband who REFUSES to die #I wanna write pre-canon marchil as well eventually…#Anyways i hope u don’t mind me putting ur fic on blast!! I liked it a lot and again i couldn’t be happier i made you like the ship #Or even write fic like omg… i hope you make more!! You got them down real well #Thank you for the ask and thank you for the content!!! Made my day. Bith when u sent it and when i rea the fic i was having a bad day #Like his dad WOULD say that. ‘I heard you crying what the fuck’ aughh they’re so so compelling pre canon oh my god #I looove ‘platonic or romantic you choose’ fics and tackling alcoholic Chil is an instant like. The 1 flirty line was a nice treat #Marchil union is brainstorming Coraline AUs btw they all go so hard I’m looking forward to that wave #Tried to keep this a lil more composed than the ao3 comments I make lmaoo but yeah know that i’d do rabid keysmashes about it #‘You’re easy to love despite it all/even if you try to make it hard to’ is such a core of marchil

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garglyswoof · 1 day

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the space we'll fill with time

For Come What May May 29th: Say the Quiet Parts Out Loud A conversation you don't think they'll ever have but wish they would. | What are some offscreen moments you wish you could see? I won't be around much tomorrow, so posting early.

“What was she like?” Karen’s question is soft as it breaks the comfortable quiet. Frank winces before realizing the reaction is just instinct - he's unbothered by the question. Not when it comes from her.

He turns the wince into a smile that stretches across his face as he remembers. “She was a ballbuster, that’s for sure. Didn’t take any shit from me. Made me understand what a real man needed to be, y’know?” He glances up at Karen where she sits, patient and interested.

“The married guys in my unit would bitch and moan about taking care of their kids when they were on leave, or doing dishes or some shit. And y’know, sometimes that stuff settles into you, right? So I came home once, before Kandahar, and I started complaining about having to do laundry or something, and she let me have it.” Frank shakes his head, grin wide. “God damn my life flashed before my eyes she took me down so hard. She was just merciless,” he laughs.

Karen smiles. “Sounds like she could keep up with you.”

“Yeah. More than.” It’s quiet for a minute as they both sit with their own thoughts. Frank’s the first to break it.

“M’ not saying everything was sunshine and roses, no way," He shakes his head firmly. "We both had our faults. She had trouble letting the kids be independent, and I wanted them to grow up and help their mom out. ‘Specially because I wasn’t around. I guess that was a selfish ask.”

“I don’t think so. I mean I get both sides. They’re just different.”

His hand scrapes the stubble on his face as he agrees, the sound loud in the relative quiet of the apartment. “You want another beer?” He gets up at her nod and grabs them both a bottle, frosted from the refrigerator’s chill. He opens her bottle with his own, an old party trick he learned back in recruit training that never fails to make Karen smile. She lifts a brow and holds her hand out when he can’t find an opener for his own beer, then proceeds to open it for him with a key of all things.

“I’ve been practicing,” she says with a proud smile that slams him in the chest. He sits down at the end of the couch and tugs her into him, her back against his front, her silken hair tickling him until he sweeps it away to gently lay a kiss on her neck.

Karen asks another question, her voice soft again. “Who gave the best gifts?” Frank’s surprised huff is loud in her ear.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I had to learn. She never wanted jewelry, shit like that.” His chin rests on her shoulder and he tilts his face to hers. “You sure you’re okay talking about this?”

“I want to know. She’s a part of your life.” The tense doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does her brief kiss to his lips, silencing his concerns. Part of him wants to get lost in it but he can feel she’s hungry for his words, for the little things that made up his life before.

Before. God, what a small word to fit too much into.

He thinks it over and Karen lets him, he hears her bottle lift and drop, the slosh of liquid and the displacement of air.

Before. Before grief so strong that the only recourse was rage. Before he let himself become The Punisher. He tenses up and Karen places a gentle kiss on his cheek. He slows the thoughts from spiraling, for her. It takes him a few moments to center himself as the living room clock that he swears he's going to find a way to secretly throw out one day ticks loudly, resolutely.

“Y’know that whole thing, not that Women are from Mars shit but the other self-help thing. Uhhh,” he lifts his head from her shoulder and takes a swig. “Your love language, yeah?” He sees her nod and continues. “Maria was an acts of service person, so it worked because that’s what I’m good at. Fix the washer, take the kids to the dentist, she could care less about gifts when it came down to it.”

“What about you, what’s your love language?” And god if the question isn’t so strange, because part of being with Karen is realizing that they haven’t known each other all that long, the moments stretching out like hours through the violence were just that.

“Touch, for one.” He nuzzles into her neck again, as if to illustrate the point. “I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. After they died, that was the hardest, I think. To know I’d never be able to wrap my arms around her, around the kids.” His chest constricts; his heart knows it will never not hurt, same as his head.

She sits up and turns in his arms. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay.”

He blinks once, twice. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Because he knows this is part of the after.

After. He met Karen in the space between, he knows that now, just as he knows she's the one that stretched the moment out, turned time on its head, helped him have this. He smiles and Karen looks at him curiously, her eyes bright and warm. After. Yeah. That word can't hold it all either.

He pulls her into his arms, arms that cross over her back more than they did with Maria. Karen feels different and he’s glad for it. Doesn’t want to confuse the two, ever. Feels disrespectful to both of them. His voice is a little more broken than he intended when he speaks again.

“I love you. And I love her.”

“I know.”

It’s gentle and soft and everything, to the both of them.

#kastle #kastleexchange #kastlenetwork #i keep writing things with 0 editing in an hour ill start thinking im not bad at this maybe #either way this is a moment id love to see #hope you like it too #the good thing about 0 notes is i can edit and no one will know #the bad thing is

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destiny-in-the-universe · 2 days

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RC9GN Commentary + Thoughts

my current and ridiculous hyperfixation on RC9GN is dominating my entire life, oops- but basically, this is mostly me once again testing the waters of not only a potential fanfic with a reimagined/continued-fanon season three and beyond but before i start

Here’s my general commentary of the show!

For starters- Randy is so neurodivergent-coded? He has ADHD, and I feel if his actions in the canon are viewed from a more ND angle, a lot of his behavior makes so much more sense to be honest; he stims, he doesn’t exactly think before he acts sometimes (and it’s only later - once he’s truly thought about his own actions - that he finally realizes he could’ve messed up), he gets overstimulated, and on another thing- he definitely has displayed signs of not only rejection sensitivity dysphoria but he also looks for others’ approval - not in the people pleasing way, he wants to be noticed and he can’t exactly get that

The show can be mature- and it shows in certain moments. Howard‘s beef with the Nomicon is genuinely legitimate, and we see he hates and despises being alone - he’s not socially anxious, but he does seem to only have Randy as his friend; though could it also be tied with Howard just being so used to having him as company that not having him around just gets a little distressing? They were friends from literally three years old- maybe it’s the knowledge that Randy’s now faced with this life-threatening role?

Another thing! The whole thing with the First Ninja (part of the commentary and thoughts of this post) having lost his entire family at the hands of the Sorcerer? That has got to have developed some serious ptsd and survivor’s guilt- it could explain why he’s so strict and rational and attempts to be this mediating figure but also suddenly gives up and loses his temper (like- if his soul is in the nomicon, then has he had proper contact with people? He’d have been completely isolated-)

Going off on “Finja” (though i seriously need to give him a name-), his official introductory episode could’ve gone so much better? Like. I get it, why he seemingly gave up so quickly but also- I think he sees his younger self in Randy and that’s why he could be harder on him, but going back on the last point; “Finja” has gone through so much - even if it isn’t inherently canon - and goodness me, I wish we could’ve seen more of his character- and the idea he’s Randy’s ancestor? Hello?

Massive Commentary incoming!

The Norisu 9 is such an interesting concept- I want to know more, but for that I need to write it; who were they? They were a clan- could they possibly be brought back as other ninjas that fight alongside the Ninja? (AKA Randy) If that’s the case though, wouldn’t it have been mentioned beforehand? Then again- this is entirely fanon. Maybe it’s only in specific moments; like we all know there are eight other realms - apart from the Land of Shadows - that Randy would’ve had to face. Imagine just-

The Norisu 9 are carefully chosen, and that’s likely why they weren’t seen before? Maybe it was thought the bloodline vanished- or only show up when fighting against specific threats like, say, the Sorceress- but now I have to figure out who would be the rest of the Norisu 9? Off the top of my head, genuinely- Debbie should be one of them (a theme of dark purple? But seriously- I feel they all have a select set of powers) - i can’t fully explain my thoughts right now, but also Theresa? Like, they definitely have certain qualities to be ninjas- though that still leaves six more people-

Also like, I really want more on the tengu and the ninja? I have a lot more dedicated to the fanon season three and this is only one part of my thoughts but- i keep thinking about the one episode where tengu! Howard (in the time travel/season one finale episode) was hurt and it affected Randy; like this has so much potential? Like just imagine the angst that could create- or even if Howard was permanently linked to the tengu, and he developed powers and things went a little… south - there is going to be so much I’m going to explore with this tbh

I need to dedicate an entire nine post thesis purely dedicated to my attempts at interpreting the different realms that Randy would have had to face if the show wasn't suddenly cancelled, oh my god

Another thing- the Sorcerer had so much potential as a villain; it's basically what he could have been if the show wasn't posed so much as a lighthearted action-comedy, but this is also a topic for another day. The amount of brainrot I've been dealing with is so ridiculous, someone help

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