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thebubblesareevil · 2 years

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You’re not Dead I promise

The first thing Kaldur noticed as he woke was the cold, it was gentle without any bite, but permeating his body as if chasing out the painful heat. However the second thing he noticed was not as you might thing the room or event how the air itself seemed to have a green tint to it, that came next, but rather the sound of light snoring coming from a large glowing figure sitting beside the bed. He was slouching in his seat one hand keeping his head propped up while the other loosely held a book in it grasp that was slowly slipping from his hand. Kaldur tried to sit up and started to feel dizzy falling back onto the bed. Unfortunately this seemed to have startled his guard who jumped up dropped his book and trip over his own chair. Kaldur attempted to assist the man but felt too weak to get up. When the man finally stood he looked at Kaldur with bright glowing green eyes that had a ring blue around the pupil, he stood a few inches taller than Kaldur himself, and skin that was just a shade too pale.

“How are you feeling?” The stranger spoke with an echoing voice. But when Kaldur tried to speak the words wouldn’t come. “Shit, one second.” The man sticks his head out the door a minute later he came back. “ I’ve asked for some water, sorry I didn’t think about that.” The man sat down and sighed with a tired look on his face. “I know you probably have questions so I’ll try to explain as best I can.” Kaldur nodded and motioned for the man to continue.

“ Okay, well first of all I’m Phantom and this is my lair, yes I know that sounds bad, let me explain.”

Kaldur looks at Phantom concerned but just a a Phantom is about to continue there is a knock at the door. Phantom beacons them in and to his surprise the person that enters doesn’t appear human. At least not fully. The man? Has green tinted skin and solid glowing red eyes he was dressed like a court jester and he was carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and some light snacks on it.

“Thank you Jester, any word on our guests.” The man, Jester gave Phantom a, quite frankly, huge fanged grin “Half have arrive, Half have yet to come, we shall announce their arrival with the beating drum.” Phantom thanked the man and with a slight bow Jester took his leave.

Phantom handed him the water and continued to explain. “Right now you are in the Infinite Realms otherwise known as the Ghost Zone” Phantom stops for a moment when he sees the mournful look on Kaldur “You’re not dead, I promise. I was wandering through a natural portal when I came across you. You had collapsed from heat stroke, which is to be expected when an Atlantean goes hiking through the desert during a heat wave.” He paused so that Kaldur could elaborate.

“My team and I were in Faucett City in America facing Klarion the witch boy, myself as well as one of my teammates was transported away during the fight. I woke in the desert and attempted to find help as soon as possible.” Phantom nodded along with the explanation.

“That sounds about right, when I found you it looked like you were headed in the direction of the pyramids. Under the advise of my personal doctor, I kept you chilled while you were sleeping to fight off the heat but how are you feeling?” Phantom asked

Kaldur took a moment to take stock of himself before responding. “I’m still a bit stiff and more than a little tired, but it is a vast improvement my previous state.”

Phantom gave a bright smile and Kaldur was thrown for a moment by the sudden shift. “That’s great once you’ve rested a bit longer we can—“ however whatever Phantom intended to say was cut off my the sound of massive drums. Phantom’s smile dropped almost immediately and was replaced with a serious expression as he looked towards the door. “It looks like it’s later than I thought, my guests have arrived. I will unfortunately be stuck going in and out of serious of meetings today. I intended to take you back home once you woke but it looks like that will have to be postponed.” Phantom turned back to Kaldur “In the meantime you are my guest and you are free to explore my lair or simply stay and rest. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” He said with a soft smile.

“Thank you for your assistance, all I ask is that I be able to return to my team as soon as possible. I understand you won’t be able to take me yourself however is there anyway another person could return me to my friends.” The smile is gone from Phantoms face much to Kaldurs concern

“ I understand your eagerness to return to your team, however the human realm is not a safe place for spirits and I will not put my friends at risk. I’m sorry..” Phantom then freezes for a moment and with a slight cough he glances to the side refusing eye contact “I just realized I never asked for your name.” He said with a green flush across his cheeks.

Kaldur let out a small laugh before turning serious once more “My name is Kaldur’ahm, however you may call me Kaldur. I understand your hesitation however I was taken from my team in the middle of a fight with an incredibly dangerous individual. Klarion is capable of—.”

“I know exactly what Klarion is capable of.” Phantom interrupted with a dark look “ It hasn’t even been a year since the realms were flooded with the cry’s of children whose lives were lost before their time. You won’t find many friends of Klarion or his cohorts in the Infinite Realms.” Phantom hesitated before continuing “I promise you I will get you back to your friends with as little time passing as possible, I can’t promise to return you to the exact moment you left but I can get you pretty damn close. Just know that time passes differently here, so don’t worry and just focus on recovering” Phantom rose from his seat and headed to the door “I’ll be back to check on you after my first meeting is over with, try to get some rest.” And with that he was gone.

Kaldur sat there for a minute collecting his thoughts before laying back down to rest. His final thought being of the tired eyes of Phantom.

NOTE: just in case you are confused the dead children are referring to when all the adults and children where split into different dimensions, you cannot convince me thousands of children didn’t die just from car crashes alone. Not even taking into consideration parents that were holding their babies when it happened.

#danny phantom #ghost king danny #dc x dp #cold current #kaldur'ahm #i’m sleepy #and stressed #pt 4 #young justice #tw meantimes child death #danny/kaldur

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arachnestwilight · 3 hours

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Sorry for putting Hetalia on your dashboard in 2024, but this has been vaguely on my mind for, like, five years.

#I have to appeal to my inner 13 year-old with garbage tastes on occasion okay?#In the meantime I'm surprised how such few fanworks focus on Roderich in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire #I don't know if this has changed and I don't particularly care to check to be honest #Anyway back to the tags #hetalia #hetalia world stars #hws austria #roderich edelstein #hws holy roman empire #hws hre #digital art #digital artist #tw blood #cw blood #tw death #cw death #cw child death #tw child death

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cod-imagines-fanfiction · 9 months

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Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2.3k words, part 2)

Summary: Valeria despairs when you don't answer her calls and immediately returns to her residence, only to find you gone. In the meantime, Graves presses you for information, and Alejandro starts to understand why Valeria hides you so well.

TW: mentions of cheating, toxic Valeria and very toxic Alejandro (OOC but I think it adds juicy drama, sorry for ruining him!). Mentions of death and violence. apologies for the imperfect Spanish, I've been using Google Translate! I titled this as 'Valeria's girlfriend' but I ended up writing them as kind of unofficially married. Link to part 1 Link to part 3 Link to A03

Valeria knew something was wrong when you didn't pick up the phone. In all your years together, she never had to call for you more than once, you were always at her beck and call. Her face turned to stone as the call went to voicemail, it felt like her heart stopped and then started again with fire and poison. In hindsight, she should have worried about your safety first, but unfortunately, her insecurities got the best of her. Anger seethed within her as she thought of all the ways you had betrayed her the moment she left you alone. Infidel! Her right-hand man Rafael was looking at you closely when she left, no? How could she be so blind as to trust you? Of course, you were jumping around with her men behind her back - you seemed all innocent and pure, but sure enough the viper within revealed itself and finally slithered out of her tight grasp. Immediately, she called Rafael to check up on the house, and when he also didn't pick up the phone, she cut her trip short and packed her bags. El Sin Nombre doesn't need to explain why she's leaving early! She commanded her business partners to figure it out amongst themselves as she went to her chopper and rushed home. Her hands shook as she navigated the helicopter, her mind unable to stop thinking of all the ways you were intertwined with Rafael on your marriage bed; desecrating your marriage vows. Of course this would happen. Why would fate let Valeria get away with the betrayal she'd inflicted on Alejandro? It was only right that her karmic debt would catch up with her.

It was as she was lowering her helicopter on the freshly cut grass of your home that she began to realise her devastating mistake. Doors were left open with the curtains billowing with the wind, broken glass from shattered windows littered the entryway and, worst of all, dried trails of blood lead a path from the house to the bushes. Her heart caught at her throat as her eyes roamed frantically from one catastrophic sign to the other. Guilt coiled around her stomach and she cursed her darkness for having doubted your loyalty when really, you were fighting for your life. "Mi esposa," Valeria whispered as rushed out of her helicopter, the blades still cutting the air as she ran indoors, not even bothering to be cautious of any enemies that could still be lurking within the shadows. She knew there were bodies dumped behind the green bushes that you so tenderly cared for, but she couldn't make herself check for you there. Part of her hoped you were smart and had the time to hide somewhere good, but she knew you were as helpless as a child when it came to things like this. You, who were so kind and good, left to fend for yourself. How could she possibly think you'd remain unharmed within this field of work? Valeria selfishly forced a divine light like you to live in the shadows with her, of course you'd get snuffed out eventually. If not by Valeria's own hand, her selfishness and greed, her need to possess and own you at all times, then by the selfish and greedy hands of others. All these thoughts rushed through her as she ran from one hallway to another, rushing to your part of the mansion. Memories of violence clung to your home like spiderwebs, she could see the struggle that ensued in the doors left open when you'd normally keep them closed. In the flower vase that you lovingly refilled every week that now lay on the floor shattered, shattered like her heart. The flowers lay on the floor, dying.

"Mi corazon...," she whimpered and came to a stop right before your bedroom door, one hand clutching her chest as she stood there, too afraid to step in and face your fate. She could only hear the wind catching on your curtains and the light humming of your electric blanket. She could already picture the catastrophe. You were in bed, lathering your lotions on, probably adjusting your night light because you were too afraid to sleep in the dark without Valeria next to you. You were all snuggled for bed, probably waiting for her call on the phone, when somebody came for you. "God, give me courage," she said as she stepped inside and lifted her eyes.

It was as if you evaporated into thin air. She saw the marks your body left on the bed where you lay on it and your phone was still there. Valeria's eyes scanned every inch of the space, no blood or other fluids were on any of the surfaces. You were either taken, or whatever happened to you happened elsewhere. All your belongings were still there. She didn't want to have false hope, so she willed herself to look at the bodies left by the bushes. She charged through the rest of the houses, taking note of all the mess. Her chopper was still on as she crossed the garden you tended to, the sweet smell of roses faintly covering the stench of blood lifting from the pile of bodies. Rafael was there, along with the rest of her men who manned the house in her absence. Treacherous relief washed through her because you were not there. This was the most devastating attack that Valeria had ever experienced in all her years and she could not think of anyone that hated her enough to do this. A rival cartel? Unlikely. They were violent criminals, sure, but they still kept a code of conduct amongst themselves. El Sin Nombre was the biggest competitor out there, no one was so stupid as to do this.

Valeria went to the security room and saw the CCTV footage. Her heart stopped when she saw an all-too-familiar figure invading her home. The tall, dark man cut through her men and made his way directly to where her wife lay. It's like he knew exactly where she was. "Alejandro?" Valeria's heart dropped as she watched Alejandro prepare to break the door and attack her wife, who was shrouded in a naive innocence where she could never comprehend the attack she was about to experience.

Angry tears threatened to spill from her glassy eyes as she saw Alejandro's hand grab you by the throat and drag you out of your marital bed. The same bed that you made love in every night, now permanently defiled with the way he violently dragged you out of it. Bruises from his fingers would have definitely formed on your soft skin by now, if you were still alive. Valeria watched on as Alejandro handcuffed her wife and pushed her through the hallways, saying something to her ear whilst parading her through the home she was supposed to be safe in. It was no coincidence that Alejandro stared directly at one of the cameras as he pushed her wife forward, looking directly at Valeria's eyes. This was no incidental operation; this was deliberate and malicious. More so, it was fucking personal. Yes, this was where Valeria ran her operation, but it was also the home you and her nested in so lovingly. And now it was trampled all over by men in uniforms, just like those fallen flowers. She forced herself to watch on as you were put in a helicopter and disappeared in the night sky.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "I hope you're ready to talk now, sweetheart." After a few hours of silence, the door to the container you were kept in opened, bringing in some rays of sunlight before shutting again. The American, whom you now knew was called Commander Graves, entered along with Alejandro. It had been many hours since your abduction, you had no way of telling how long exactly. But you were tired and restless, and cold. You thought they might move you to a cell at least, but they made no effort to transfer you out of the metal container. Too afraid to say anything when not spoken to, you sat still and waited. You wondered if Valeria had noticed your absence yet but even if she did, how could she find you? "I'm not sure what to tell you, sir." You remained polite hoping that courtesy would make up for your lack of talking. "Don't be like that, there's plenty to tell. How about we start with this little business trip of hers?" Graves circled around you, placing his hand on your shoulder before finally coming to a stop. " What'du hear about it?" Graves had many years of experience underneath his belt when it came to interrogation, especially the violent ones. And so did the 141. That was made very clear from the beginning. If this was any ordinary member of the cartel, they'd have buried them by now. But spouses were different; you hurt them and there'll be hell to pay. Even worse, there'll be no chance of making a deal with Valeria. "Like I said, I just know she went away for it, sir, that's all."

"Hm," he said and dropped his hand. He moved to stand right in front of you. "Well, you must know something. You know she's El Sin Nombre. You know she runs the biggest drug cartel in Latin America. You know she runs an international operation, you know she has friends in many places. What am I missing here?"

You looked up at him. "That's basically it, sir. It's a drug operation. But I don't know where it comes from, who her manufacturers are, or how she sells it. She doesn't deal with small details." Graves was starting to lose his patience, and not with her but with Alejandro. He couldn't understand why he insisted on extracting a housewife instead of the real deal. Here he was trying to gather intel on those Russian missiles with a trophy wife who hasn't had a day out of the kitchen, let alone discussions with the biggest terrorist organisation in the world. It was time to cut loose and make the call. "Hermano, take over for me will ya? I'll be right back." Graves walked away, wondering what General Sherperd will think of this whole situation.

You were alone with Alejandro now, who paced up and down the compound like a restless animal. You wondered to yourself how similar he was to Valeria, she had the exact same habit when she was stressed. They were very similar in temperament; too similar. Aggressive, hard-headed and dominant. Part of you gloated at the whole situation. Here was a Colonel of the Mexican Army, a well-decorated military man, wasting his time with you, someone quite irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, all because of- "Your wife," he said, disrupting your thoughts and you suddenly realised you were staring at him. "Is that correct?" He nodded at your ring finger. "Yes, sir," you replied timidly. He was exactly like Valeria, and it worked in your favour. You've spent so many years living with your partner that it was almost too easy to deal with people like her. People who could fill up a room with their presence; intimidating, powerful people who could hurt you badly. The sort of people who made the world go round. People, in other words, who could be domesticated.

Because violence and intimidation aren't the only ways to get what you want. Alejandro scoffed, "you've come a long way from that food stand, huh?" He looked at you with a faraway look in his eye, his mind having entered that shrouded area of the psyche where apparitions of the past hover, always eager to glide into the present in the form of memories. Your heart softened both at the memory he was referencing and because, at that moment, he seemed so pitifully sad, having lost himself in reminiscence.

Many years ago, you helped your Abuela run her restaurant in Las Almas, which stood very close to where the Mexican Army had its headquarters. Your Abuela was a genius in strategy and profited a lot from the laziness of soldiers who couldn't be bothered to cook for themselves but who also didn't want to eat whatever the Army served. And that's how you met Valeria, who was regularly sent by her teammates to fetch a group order. Valeria picked up the food because it was expected of her, an unfortunate burden of being one of the youngest women in her squad. But over time, she did it because it meant she got to see you. To everyone's surprise, when Valeria ran away to work for the cartel, that quiet girl in the small restaurant vanished too. "Alejandro." His eyes snapped back into yours. "Lo siento mucho. I really didn't know about you and Valeria. I am not that kind of person." You knew exactly what this was all about. Sure, they wanted to get El Sin Nombre and Valeria *was* the head of the biggest drug operation in the world. And she *has* made Las Almas dance to the rhythm of her tune for the past decade. But this was all just a big temper tantrum. And if you played your cards right, you could leave unscathed. You continued, "Whatever happens, I just wanted you to know that. I am truly sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone."

Something changed in his eyes. You could already picture what was about to happen. After your sincere self-flogging will come his pity, then the remorse. He might chuck you in a cell to show that he's treating you like the criminal collaborator that they all think you are, but soon enough he'll arrive bearing the fruits of forgiveness. Just like Valeria, you told yourself. Like moths to a flame. "Hm," he mumbled to himself, his eyes roaming all over you. "I get it now." He cocked his head to the side, "eres una cosa encantadora." At that moment, you felt a change in the air, something dark hovered between you two. It made you shiver.

"Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever been with a man?"

Hope you enjoy this part! Promised tags: @justmare @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @lesvii @silas-222 I'll bring Valeria and her partner together in part 3! I've also thought of a cute backstory for them that I want to get into :) also sorry for ruining Alejandro, i made him so toxic in this fic 😭

#call of duty valeria #cod imagine #valeria garza #valeria garza x female reader #valeria x female reader #valeria x reader #cod mw2 #cod valeria imagine

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fairysluna · 7 months

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SINNERS — Chapter 4

After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING – Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC.

SUMMARY – A year has passed, Maegor's lies are exposed as Aenelys overheard a conversation and they both found themselves in a discussion that was interrupted by an unexpected visit and terrible news..

TW/TAGS – targcest (uncle/niece), age gap, angst, smut (humping, praising), cursing, maegor being his own warning, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, manipulation. if something is missing let me know!!

NOTE – finally i managed to sit and write for this, I'm sorry if it's not perfect, but I'm still struggling with my writer's block.😫 hopefully you'll like this!! pls enjoy🤍✨

WORD COUNT – 5.0k

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

Maegor was unable to take his eyes out of her. His hand found its way to her back, caressing the soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. His little princess was exhausted after last night, which finished with her limbs shaking and her beautiful doe eyes covered by tears.

Aenelys had been behaving these past year, and Maegor was pleased with it. As long as he made her believe he was hers, nothing could go wrong. He was smarter this time; hiding his mistresses in brothels while her princess remained oblivious of his acts, waiting for his return and opening her soft legs to him because she was getting obsessed with the pleasure he could provide to her.

He was no fool, not at all. He knew there was no way he could be inside her without getting her with child, and that was no good for his plans… he needed her a maiden, he could not allow her to breed a bastard, not when her title and prestige were at risk. Those were two things he needed from her, her title and her legitimate child, but for that he must be patient, wait for the right moment.

But that does not mean he could not have fun with her in the meantime.

Maegor found himself searching for new methods of pleasure that would work for both, one of his favorites will forever be having her plump lips around him. The first time she learned how to please him with her mouth, she was acting shy and flustered, nervously touching him until he decided to control her movements. Aenelys turned out to be strangely good at this, pleasing him like no other.

"Not even the most expensive whore can suck my cock like you do, my sweet dove," he had told her as he wiped the tears off her flushed face. Aenelys smiled widely, feeling proud after realizing that she was better than anyone. She thought that he would only seek release in her after that… but how wrong she was.

There is no secret that Maegor had some carnal need that needed to be fulfilled, and his wish to be inside some tight, wet walls were too overwhelming to be ignored. This is why, after those times where he could not get satisfied by her touch, he would leave once he made sure she was sleeping, and seek that much needed release with someone else; his dear friend and favorite mistress, Tyanna.

Ser Draqos knew about his dirty little secret, for he would guard the princess door each night, seeing how her beloved uncle and lover would leave her alone for some common whore. It was hard for him to understand how Maegor, a man who had in his power a woman as sweet and beautiful as the princess, decided to sneak out like a rat in the middle of the night and lock himself in brothels with other women. It was nonsense that only a fool could understand.

But now Maegor was laying beside her, his big hand on her back as she started to move, her eyes slowly opening as she turned around with a small, sleepy smile. Maegor put his hand around her neck, not squeezing it but leaving it there as a sign of some kind of dominance over her, something that the princess loved to feel.

"How beautiful you look in the mornings," he whispered, brushing his nose against hers in a strangely soft touch. "Did you sleep well?"

"I always sleep well with you by my side," she murmurs in response. Maegor smirked, almost hearing the devotion in her voice.

Without saying a word, he pressed his lips against hers in a hungry kiss. Aenelys moaned; the sudden act made her heart flutter, still not getting used to these heated touches that made her limbs go numb. The butterflies on her belly blurred her thoughts as he possesively devoured her lips with a fervor that left her breathless. She squirmed beneath him, so easy to arouse. Maegor knew exactly the effect he had on her, and he knew that if he dared to touch between her legs he would find nothing but her sweet slick running down her thighs. Her flesh begging to be touched.

She sighed as he leaned back, a small string of saliva joining their swollen lips as Maegor's darkened eyes stared at hers with a hunger that made her legs shake. He had woken up with the intention of devouring her in every way, not satisfied with the action that took place the night before. Aenelys felt his hand roaming down her body, a small squeeze on her left breast before he positioned himself between her legs, spreading them open for him to see all of her.

She blushed, looking at him with those beautiful eyes that screamed innocence - or at least what was left of it. Maegor growled, his fingers involuntarily touching her soaked folds as she mewled beneath him, her hips moving upwards as she searched for more of his touch.

"Look how wet you are for me, my sweet doe," he mumbled, towering her body as he leaned forward, a shadow casting over her petite frame and hiding her from the sunlight. "And all of this is for me, right?" He asked using that husky tone that sent her into a submissive and pleading state. She nodded as a response muttering a small 'yes' that could be easily mistaken with soft gasps.

Maegor, discontent with that answer, put his hand back around her neck and squeezed it. Aenelys purred under his touch and a smug grin appeared on her uncle's lips.

"I made you a question, princess," he murmured as he brushed his nose against her cheek. "Answer me." His low voice caused chills down her spine, making her pearl throb with excitement.

"It's- it's all for you," she replied in a sigh, her voice thin and weak as he pressed himself against her. His length felt the warmth of her folds and a groan left his lips as she moved her hips, starting to hump on him.

"Good girl…" he sighed.

Maegor then started to move as well, his hips meeting hers in slow but hard movements that made her whine. His hardness rubbing against her swollen bud almost made her eyes roll, her hands holding onto his shoulders at the same time he kissed her. The muffled noises of their passion were echoing in the room.

"I can't wait to be inside you, my dear," he whispered against her lips, "I bet you would feel so good around my cock, squeezing me with that tight cunny of yours."

His words did nothing but to increase her arousal, her cheeks turning red as her mind flooded with images of him claiming her as his. Her mouth dropped open with a whine, her clit throbbing as he used his free hand to press himself further into her soaked flesh. Aenelys closed her eyes, her back arching as his grip around her neck tightened even more.

"Does it feel good, byka mēre?" Little one. That bloody nickname sent waves of heat all over her trembling body as she whimpered a response. "Are you going to cum? I can hear how wet you are, love… So needy for me."

She felt the knot of her lower belly starting to form, searching for that needed release as his name fell from her lips like a sacred prayer. After he let go of her neck, his lips wrapped around one of her sensitive nipples, licking and sucking the delicate bud as she frowned in pleasure and her whole body shook. The stimulation between her legs, plus his hungry mouth roughly working on her breasts, made her see stars behind her eyelids, her limbs shaking as her cries of pleasure became louder.

Aenelys fell apart beneath his thick frame, crying his name as she reached her overwhelming climax. Her breathing was fast, ragged. Her eyes closed as he kept moving trying to find his release - which was far to come.

After a few seconds, Maegor kept going in an useless attempt to feel that knot in his gut. The stimulation was not enough for him, and the frustration was growing inside him, losing his patience. Aenelys started to cry even louder, the overstimulation being too much that it became a bit painful. Maegor groaned.

He let go, trying to use his hand but it was still not enough. Aenelys saw his struggle and she tried to make things better as she noticed how his patience was hanging from a thin thread.

"I can… I can use my mouth-"

"Be quiet," he snapped at her as he stood up, lurking for his clothes around her chambers.

Aenelys covered her nudity with the thin sheets of her bed, staring at Maegor as a tiny feeling of inefficiency filled her chest, almost making her cry. It was not the first time this would happen, and even when she would offer to please him in other ways, he would grab his things and leave her room… just like he did this time.

The princess felt a slight pain in her heart as she was left alone, trying to convince herself that the next time will be different. Trying to convince herself that he went to the training yard instead of a brothel.

Though she was not very sure of that.

A few minutes later passed before one of her loyal maids entered her room, preparing a warm bath for her. Aenelys found herself relaxing in the water while Henela washed her hair. The princess had been unable to focus on anything besides what happened with Maegor, she wondered what she could do to be better for him, to please him and leave him satisfied.

"Are you still a maiden, Henela?" The princess suddenly asked, the lady almost blushed at the question.

"Uh… no, princess, I'm not," she hid her nervousness behind an awkward giggle.

"So you know how to properly please a man, right?" Aenelys asked again without shame. She turned around looking up at the flustered maid, the curiosity shining through her eyes.

"Well, there's many ways to please a man," Henela explained, going to search for the princess' robe. "You can use your hands, or your mouth-"

"I have done those things-"

"Have you?" She interrupted with surprise.

"I have," Aenelys nodded, standing from the tub and wrapping the robe around her body. "But it seems as if they are not enough… Is there anything else I could do to please him?"

The shock on Henela's face was undisguisable.

"I'm not quite sure what else you can do, those things usually work," she murmured, now feeling a bit embarrassed. "Has he ever… been inside you?"

Aenelys shook her head, "he does not want to," she sadly said. "He says a princess shall always wait for marriage."

"Is he planning to wed you?" Henela curiously asked.

"Yes," she nodded excitedly, "Though I'm not quite sure when, but I know we will get married someday…" Henela felt a tingle of pity on her chest after seeing her dreamy eyes and knowing the truth about Maegor. "He gave me this necklace when I was sixteen," Aenelys said as she grabbed the pendant hanging around her neck, "I think he gave it to me as a promise…"

"Pardon me for my intrusion, my princess, but is he not already married?" Henela asked.

Aenelys smile trembled a little and she shook her head, as if she was trying to downplay the situation she was in.

"Oh, yes, but here we're free, and we can get married even if he's married in Westeros, can we not?" she shrugged, still with a soft smile on her face that was so hard to watch for her maid. "Besides, Ceryse does not love him, not like I do. He deserves a good wife, someone who can give him what he wants."

"What does he want?"

"A child!" Aenelys excitedly said.

"Oh…" she simply said.

"How lovely would it be to be carrying his child," Aenelys murmured, standing in front of the mirror and placing her hand on her belly. "But firstly, I need to know how to properly please him. Is there any advice?"

Henela sighed, "Men usually like it when women take control or seem to be confident in the marital bed," she explained, "for that you need to be on top, riding him."

"Like a horse?"

Her maid giggled softly, "not quite, but the movements are rather the same. Moving your hips in circles or back and forth, it drives them crazy."

"Does it?"

Henela nodded.

"Please, also remember that men like to hear your pleasure, so you have to be loud, but try not to be too obvious about it or they will know you are lying."

"That is a bit confusing," Aenelys giggled. Henela laughed too.

"Men are complicated, my princess, but if there is something that can keep them interested is a good sexual companion… I'm sure Prince Maegor would be rather infatuated once he gets to bed you."

"You think?" Aenelys blushed.

"Definitely, my princess," she nodded. "Sometimes we can get them to do as we please by just opening our legs, they always think with their cocks."

"Henela!" She gasped, laughing at the word she used and slightly blushing. It was not very common for her to hear a lady using that term.

"It is the truth!" Henela giggled, making her sit in a chair in order to brush her hair.

"I think the fact he's waiting for me is the purest act of love," Aenelys murmured, her silly smile and dreamy eyes coming back to enlighten her face. "The fact that he stopped seeing his whores is proof that he actually loves me, right?"

The way the princess smiled made her feel pity again; she could only ask for the truth to be out. She simply nodded, hiding the guilt behind a soft look in her eyes. Henela had a special spot for the princess, and she was not going to be the one telling Maegor's little secret and eventually breaking her heart.

A few hours later she was walking towards the dining room to break her fast. A freshened look on her face as she had taken a hot bath and had her braids done by Henela, leaving any trace of sadness behind after what had happened inside her room. She kindly smiled at everyone who crossed her path; the princess had known how to win every servant's heart, which is why they would always give her pity glances as she walked - they knew what her beloved uncle did behind her back. No one dared to say a word, everyone was too afraid of the Prince to even think about confessing his lie.

Everyone but Draqos, who was standing in the hall being threatened by a very angry Maegor. Aenelys found them, slowing her pace and quietly approaching the corner to spy. She was able to see her uncle's back and Draqos' face under the sunlight. She frowned, noticing how her loyal guard was visibly mad, his eyes throwing daggers at the man in front of him as they seemed to have a not so friendly conversation.

She was not able to hear clearly, but her heart ached when she heard his last words before he left: "Consider yourself dead if you dare to tell her about this."

Aenelys frowned, her confused expression being plastered in her face as she leaned back in the wall trying to make sense of what Maegor had just said. That is when a hand was pressed on her shoulder, a touch so gently and caring. Draqos looked down at her lilac eyes, and with a single glance he knew that he had heard part of the conversation.

"What did he mean?" she asked softly, trying not to jump into conclusions.

"Princess, you shouldn't have heard that," Draqos sighed, almost looking ashamed.

"But I did," she firmly replied, "what did he mean?" she repeated, her eyes never leaving his as she was forcing him to answer her. "I demand you to tell me what is going on."

The inner struggle was obvious in his eyes as he immediately looked away, unable to resist the temptation to tell her the truth if he was staring at her. Aenelys silently pleaded for an answer.

"He will not hurt you if you decide to speak to me," she told him, softly speaking in an attempt to make him talk. "I will make sure you are safe, I promise."

With that, Draqos was easily convinced. His sweet princess was begging for an answer and he was not going to be the one to deny her of it. He would never deny her anything.

"I'm afraid the prince has been seen occasionally escaping during the nights, and sometimes during the days," he started, his voice somewhat soft as if he was trying to make everything less painful. "He visits the brothels almost every week, seeking companionship in the arms of a courtesan named Tyanna."

Aenelys pressed her lips into a thin line as she took in the heartbreaking news of the not so unexpected treason. Draqos got a bit worried when he did not see sadness in her eyes; he saw anger. Her soft, doe eyes turned into flames as she imagined that woman touching what belonged to her.

"How long has this been going on?" she asked.

Draqos took a deep breath, "it has never stopped, my princess."

She sighed, a shaky sigh that almost broke his heart.

"I need you to promise me something, Ser Draqos," Aenelys softly spoke as she took a step closer and looked up at him. Their closeness would not be well seen if someone walked in, but he was not going to be the one to push her away.

"Anything," he whispered, his deep brown eyes looking at her lilac ones with a devotion she wished to see in Maegor.

"You are my protector, you sworn yourself to me when we first arrived here," she said as she grabbed his hand. "I do not want just your protection. I want your loyalty and sincerity. Do not lie or hide things from me again."

"Princess-"

"Promise me," she demanded.

"I promise you," he answered without missing a beat, not even doubting himself. "My princess, I will always be loyal to you… Until my last breath."

Aenelys nodded, taking in his words and closing her eyes when he leaned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there longer than they should have; it brought some sense of peace and calmness. The princess muttered a small 'thank you', before she took a step back and looked at the floor, as if she was avoiding his stare. She excused herself before her expression hardened again and she walked away from him.

With a single glance to her determined steps, he knew where she was walking to, so he walked behind her just to make sure she would be safe.

Aenelys reached for the door and pushed it open, hard enough to disrupt the calm environment that had been established in the dining room. Maegor frowned as he looked at her, the sign of dried tears in her rosy cheeks immediately worked as a warning that something was not right, and the realization hit when Draqos stood behind her.

"Leave," she ordered to all the servants that were staring at her with curious eyes. Everyone left, except for Draqos. "You too," she told him.

"Princess-"

"Go," she interrupted him. Draqos doubted for a second, staying still while giving quick glances to Maegor; he did not trust him. However, he eventually turned around, reluctantly leaving the room.

Aenelys saw Maegor leaning back in the chair; his legs spreaded, his jaw moving as he was eating while a small grin appeared on his face. She knew he was going to tease her, a daring provocation in order to make her explode; she tried not to get caught up in that, but her feelings were all over the place, her heart was beating too fast and the ache in her chest did not seem to cease.

"You lied to me," she murmured, trying to make her voice not break.

"Did I?"

"You did!"

"Ah…" he scoffed, drinking from his tea as if she was not falling apart in front of him. "When did I lie to you, darling?"

"You are fucking a whore, Maegor," she mumbled, wiping a rebel tear as she looked to the floor. A small tsk was heard from his side.

"Well, that's the thing, little one." He stood up, and he slowly started to approach her. "I do not remember telling you I'd stopped fucking whores. It is not a lie if I never said it, is it? You just assumed it."

There was a silence where Maegor reached for her face, cupping her cheek with his hand as his thumb wiped the tears away. It was a gesture so delicate and soft that it almost made her sigh; her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. It brought some calmness to the turmoil of feelings inside her chest. His softness, that was hardly ever shown, made her almost melt into his touch once again, but then his own voice made her wake up from the trance he had put her in.

"Who told you?"

That mere question brought her back to reality. She thought about how many people knew about it for him to ask such thing. She thought about how ridiculous she must have been seen by the servants that already knew about it, for she would never hide her undying loyalty and devotion to him.

She pushed his hand away from her, taking a step back as the anger consumed her once again.

"No one did!" she replied, raising her voice. "You really think I was never going to find out about this?"

"My sweet doe," he softly spoke, trying to calm her down. "You need to understand that a man has needs-"

"I'm the one who should be satisfying your needs!" She yelled. "I'll be your wife, I will marry you, not her!" She spat the last words with utter disgust.

He took a deep breath, slowly starting to lose his patience.

"I know that very well," he whispered, taking a step closer. "But there are different kinds of pleasure that you cannot provide me with. You know that."

"I do not care!" She yelled again, this time pushing him away. Maegor was taken by surprise, and he almost lost his balance. Pure shock on his eyes as he saw her unexpected outburst. "I can be all that for you if you only give me the chance!" She whined. "I'm right here, uncle! I'm yours, and I will always be yours. Why can you not understand?!"

His anger was immediately shown as he unexpectedly wrapped his hand around her jaw, digging his fingers into her flesh - strong enough to make her stay still. Her eyes widened in surprise, a slight panic running through her eyes as she saw the rage written all over his face. She whined, now out of pain.

"You cannot understand simple things, can you?" He muttered so close to her face that she was able to feel his hot breath against her lips. "Is your brain so small that it cannot comprehend anything? You think I haven't fucked you because I do not wish for it?" He scoffed. "Oh, you silly little thing. I could spread your legs and bury my cock on that needy cunt of yours right here if that is what I want, but I won't; because I'm smart, and I'm patient, you know why? Because I could easily fuck a bastard into you." Those last words were spat with rage, the kind of feeling he had never felt with her up to this point.

He was wondering how she could not understand what he had been explaining to her for months. Her obliviousness to certain things made him furious.

"Is that what you want?" He continued, tightening his grip. "A bastard is a weapon against maidens as you, something they can use to steal your rightful position in the throne, is that what you want? People calling you the whore princess because you opened your legs to someone who's not your husband? Don't act stupid, I know you are more clever than that."

He let her go, and she stumbled backwards as she touched her jaw trying to soothe the tingling pain that was left there. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he stared at her teary eyes. Maegor then approached her again, two of his fingers lifting her chin forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me, my love," his tone changed, returning to be the soft and gentle one he would always use with her. "You want to feel me inside that tight cunny of yours? You want me to breed you until your womb is filled with my seed? That is fine, and you'll have all of that…" he made a pause, appreciating the red on her cheeks produced by his words. "But for that you'll have to wait until we marry. Is that clear for you?"

She nodded, reluctantly.

"Answer me," he demanded.

"Yes…" she replied in a thin voice, and he smiled pleasantly.

"That's a good girl," he muttered before he leaned and left a soft kiss on her forehead. A chill ran down her back, a sense of uneasiness settled in her chest. She remembered Draqos giving her the same gesture, and causing the complete opposite emotion. "Now… this is the last time I will bear one of these tantrums, do you hear me? I will not forgive you again."

She was about to answer, but the door was suddenly open and Draqos walked in. He noticed the marks on her jawline, he saw the tears in her eyes and the way she looked away from him, avoiding any eye contact. He clenched his jaw as he bowed in front of them, wanting nothing to scream at Maegor for hurting such a delicate maiden like her.

He hid his rage towards the prince as a serious semblance was drawn in his face, clearing his throat before he made his announcement.

"Prince, Princess… The Dowager Queen is here," he informed.

Aenelys looked up at Maegor, trying to find the same surprise on his face, but he remained nonchalant to the words of the knight, almost as if he was expecting his mother to arrive.

Before Aenelys could express her confusion, Visenya entered the dining room, dressed with her riding attire and wearing an unreadable expression on her stern visage. The princess noticed how her eyes scanned her body, her expression slightly changing when she noticed the marks on her neck, but returning to be a hard look when she paid further attention to the marks that were left by her son's tight grip.

"Mother," Maegor greeted her, bowing before her and grabbing her hand to kiss the back of it. "What brings you here?"

"I'm afraid I've come all this way to inform you both of something not very pleasant," she started, her voice low and almost lacking any emotion. Visenya turned to look at Aenelys and she sighed as she grabbed her hands; it was at that moment that the princess felt her heart skip a beat. "Is your father, princess," Visenya sighed.

"My father?" She asked with slight confusion.

Visenya looked at her son before looking back at the girl in front of her.

"The King unexpectedly died last night in Dragonstone."

She felt the tears clouding her eyes, her nose itching and that agonizing feeling on her chest. She covered her lips with her hand as a sign of shock and disbelief, feeling as if the world had fallen on her shoulders and the weight of guilt was pressing against her chest, causing her to breathe rapidly and unevenly. Aenelys looked at Maegor, whose face was lacking any surprise - she was too shocked to recognize the mischievous glint on his devilish eyes.

"How… How did it happen?" she managed to speak between deep breaths and sobs.

"The war weakened him," she explained. Aenelys was taken aback by this new information.

Information that Maegor already knew and decided to hide from her.

"What war?" Aenelys asked again.

"The war with the Faith Militant," she explained, "The High Septon took your disappearance as an offense, for his niece is Maegor's legitimate wife. People in King's Landing are accusing your father of promoting this relationship between you both, and they raised against his reign."

Her dress suddenly felt tighter, the difficulty to breath making her gasp as the tears fell down her cheeks. Her eyes looked at Draqos, the despair and desperation was clearly visible in her face. He took a step forward, but Maegor grabbed her first. The princess buried her face on his chest while his hand went to her hair, cooing against her ear while she uncontrollably sobbed, soaking his shirt with her tears.

Suddenly, the entire discussion with Maegor was easily forgotten, for the pain in her heart was bigger and almost unbearable. The guilt making it impossible for her to calm down.

"Your mother and siblings are waiting for you in Dragonstone for the funeral," Visenya informed her, "King's Landing and the Iron Throne are now empty…"

Aenelys thought it was quite odd the way she pronounced those kasts words, but her mind was too blurry to even try to process them. Maegor, however, found himself understanding the message between the lines, and he held her close to his chest and gave a soft nod to his mother. Things had never been clearer.

It was time for him to take what was rightfully his, claim his position as King of the Seven Kingdoms, and make Aenelys his queen.

Everything went exactly how he wanted.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU.

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jamespotterismydaddy @padfooteyes

SINNERS TAG LIST — @hypocritic-trash-baby @misspendragonsworld @hangmanscoming @caramelcandescence @cold-v0dka @bellstwd @angeliod @uniquecroissant @winxschester @mrswhitethornbelikov @amygdtjhddzvb @vixemi @beebeechaos

#sinners #house of the dragon #maegor targaryen x oc #maegor targaryen fanfic #maegor i #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #maegor i targaryen #maegor i targaryen x oc #fire and blood fanfic #fire and blood #house of the dragons #house targaryen #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd x oc

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siffrin-enthusiast · 1 month

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angry system and radqueer/“transdisabled” vent here, interactions okay except for radqueers. make your own post and keep it far away from real disabled people. tws for mentions of death, trauma, and hospitals.

this is not syscourse. this is my experience as a traumagenic system. this is not a commentary on anyone else except for radqueers.

i truly despise how sometimes DID is seen as a “quirky” or “fun” disorder where you get your favorite characters as imaginary friends. do you know why i split one of my silly fictional characters? for reasons i won’t disclose because i know basic internet safety, i almost died as a child. i came very, very close to dying. i was in the hospital for months and all i had to keep me from thinking that god, i nearly died was a fictional character. as much as i post about loving my system (which i really do! they saved me!) it is undoubtedly the worst thing that has ever happened to us. i would never wish this upon anyone. if i could be a singlet, if i could be whole, i would. everyone in this brain would make the same decision.

i make light of it because for the i’m going to be stuck here with living, breathing reminders of my worst traumas and if i don’t joke about it, i’m going to lose it. i only remember my early life through flashbacks. most days are a blur, weeks and months slipping by in a few blinks. i’m barely remembering to go to my college classes, and when i manage to get there (on time, too!), i don’t remember the lectures anyway. i might have to drop out until my therapist and i can figure out something to stop my body from thinking i’m going to be hurt again every time i walk into a classroom. i’m about to lose it.

i’m too tired for “syscourse”. i really am. but while we’re here, radqueer “build a headmate!!” things? you’re fucking sick. do you know that? you’re sick in the head. log off and go to a real mental health professional. “transDID” is sick. it wasn’t enough to fake it? you had to make a mockery of us, too? are you happy, loudly proclaiming that you’re roleplaying having a horrible mental illness? aren’t you ashamed? (i know they’re not. that would require them to care about anyone besides themselves.) there’s a reason none of the “transdisabled” people go to therapy, and it’s because they know they’d be rightfully diagnosed with factitious disorder. i sincerely hope you all find therapists who can provide you with what you actually need, because i promise it’s not roleplaying mental disorders on tumblr. in the meantime, i’m blocking and moving on. i’ve cried enough tears over my disorder and i know i’ll cry more of them. i’m not letting you add to my suffering.

DID/OSDD isn’t a joke or a game. it’s the result of repeated, continuous childhood trauma that the brain has no choice but to break itself in pieces to hide the trauma from itself. it ruined my life. it still ruins my life. it’s taken years in therapy to get to the point of knowing why i’m so dysfunctional, and it’ll take many years more to start becoming more functional. i make light of it here because this is my escape, for a moment, where i can be a normal, happy person instead of a traumatized shell of an adult who is really still the scared kid that wasn’t supposed to make it this long. i don’t have “friends” in my head. i have fragments of my psyche clinging to whatever takes me away from the flashbacks. do you understand?

#radqueers dni #i will not respond. i will just block and move on #not syscourse #sharing MY experience as a system this isn’t about anyone else #actually plural #actually did #tw vent #vent post #kuiper system posting

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thewhumpcaretaker · 3 months

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The Broken Veil: Sneak Peak of Chapter 1

I will hopefully be releasing this fic (my first ever released) on AO3 soon, but I'm waiting for my account invite, so enjoy this preview in the meantime. This will be a highly indulgent 18+ fic focused on whump, hurt/comfort, and dacryphilia. TWs for this chapter: grief, crying, nightmare

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Santino’s sister, Gianna, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

Autumn evening in New York reels between gold and grey. A pale white sky bruises over with grey smog. Even the sky is beaten in New York, and yet even the sky sparkles. Golden streetlamps and distant red flashes hang as earthly stars between the glassy black voids of skyscraper walls. Airport whiskey sparkles amber in John Wick’s grasp, and his inward body buzzes faintly against its motionless exterior. Not drunk, not tipsy, not that it would matter. He knows himself drunk, drugged, tired, bleeding, the way the machine of his body handles in every state.

On the street below, a child in a woolen pea coat grabs onto his mother’s hand as they step up into the queue to check luggage. From the bar, John can’t see their faces, only the knit caps crowning both their heads. The boy has a backpack as his carry-on, and it’s too large for him. He shifts uncomfortably. At his movement, the mother fusses and leans down to adjust it. John’s eyes are fixed on her. They begin walking again and the child, excited by something on the far side of the taxi line, dashes towards oncoming traffic. She pulls the little boy back from the street as a car swings recklessly close to the curb. John flinches away from the scene. It was hardly a close call – the kid had a long way to go before reaching the road, and even then, no doubt the car could have swerved at that speed. But it’s the sentiment of the thing, her tenderness…another swig of whiskey so he can’t finish the thought, and he turns from the window.

Drifting, playing the businessman without effort, scanning the crowd, uneasy with this moment of peace between wars. Stay in the moment anyway. Black wingtips clicking too crisply on grimy tile. A glimpse of his reflection in the storefront of a candy shop, an impeccable mask. First class is boarding at JFK Gate 11, direct to Rome. No threats among the passengers – not that he expected any, but an enclosed box in the sky is a bad place to run into an enemy. It’s an opportunity he’s exploited himself in the past. A cordial smile to the flight attendant.

Now there is no more moment to stay in. Only the trans-Atlantic stretch of night, brutally alone.

He doesn’t want to be here. He knows how the machine of his body handles in every state, and right now he handles it by tricking it into doing what it’s ordered to do. Don’t think about doing anything, don’t think about killing. Just sit still, stare straight ahead, and don’t talk yourself out of this job. The job right now is to stare at the blinking light on the wing of the plane and not move, that’s all. He remembers Gianna in their youth. She didn’t want to be a part of all this. She never had much in common with Santino. His ruthlessness, sure, but it was in service of something other than a desperate grasp for authority. She lived her life her way, pursued pleasure quietly between business, on her own terms. Don’t think about it. He thinks about how to do it instead. It’ll be right to give her a moment to face her death. Worth the risk. He owes her that much. Or is that the body rebelling again? Don’t think about it at all. Go to sleep.

He leans back and shuts himself down.

***

He’s making coffee for Helen. The bag crinkles as he scoops rich grounds into the machine. This feels so vivid, he can even smell it. He freezes. Feels vivid…this isn’t real. Lucid dream. They are always so fragile, they don’t have much time. Where is she? Movement, out of the corner of his eye. Between the kitchen curtains, he can see her outside in the garden, her back to him. The way her hair falls above the cotton of a simple sundress, the way it just touches her shoulders…she is before him, he is ready to do anything to get to her. “Helen!”

She turns towards him and her face flares with a mirror of his own desperation. She points to the front door and disappears to the left, and he runs to meet her. There is a strange vastness to the entryway, he can’t reach the far end, but the door is already open. Only the screen is locked, and she’s trying the latch, silhouetted in light. He can feel his racing pulse all the way through his wrists now. She’s looking at him with so much urgency, his heart rattles almost sickeningly with each test of the latch and she’s saying over and over, “Rome, John, Rome! The moment is coming. Let me in.”

***

When he gasps awake, his lungs are already heavy with tears. There’s something darkly gorgeous about the disoriented longing still raging through him like an adrenaline shot and he lets it linger. Hope.

It takes him several minutes to even become irritated with that final twist. A play on words, a stupid, too-obvious, unoriginal trick of the unconscious, lacking the elegance she deserves. “Home, John, home. The moment is coming. Let me in.” If I ever can, I always will. Believe me. But I can’t. He crushes a sob against his rib cage with a deep inhale, swallows, and buries his face in his hands for a moment. Don’t even go there, don’t even imagine the impossible. Then he watches the sun make sheens of silver over the jagged European coastline, still basking in the memory of how she fought to reach him.

***

From the edge of the finite, a form withdraws, regathering strength but burning with the lingering sight of him.

#john wick #helen wick #john wick fanfic #john wick whumpee #assassin whumpee #emotional whump #angst #hurt/no comfort #whump fic #whump writing #dacryphilia #assassin whump #forced to kill trope #new to fanfic #new to ao3 #new fic

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perplexing-news · 1 year

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Alright, here’s the deal; this will be split into two parts. One tonight, one tomorrow night, because my hand is starting to hurt from writing.

I present to you:

Lore from after Fluffy first created the board.

tws: themes of self harm, death/almost dying

Fluffy set up a knife throwing game at the board. Hatcler decided to give it a shot, and ended up winning a Onceler Suit. He leaves, also stealing Fluffy’s hat, which provides them power. Fluffy is distraught, and Adam shows up. Fluffy tells them about the power that the hat granted them, and Adams offers a deal for Fluffy, but before Fluffy accepts they learn of Hatcler’s whereabouts, leaving to find him. Adam leaves, revealing that they had the original hat.

Fluffy arrived to Hatcler and a giant pile of duplicate hats. Fluffy takes all 68, and then questions Hatcler as to where the original is. When Hatcler says he doesn’t know, Fluffy makes him part of the board. Chris shows up, offering Fluffy a cool hat, which they put on. The cooler hat gives them greater control over their powers. Jay approached, threatening Fluffy to give Hatcler back, however Fluffy refused, since Hatcler was now part of the board. They break out into a fight, which, to my knowledge, has technically not ended.

At some point, Onceler Dan announced that Fluffy was his child. Many people with relations to Mr. Dancler said that they were not the father. (i hated this era, personally).

Hatcler braught up the fact that Fluffy should be added to the board, to which Fluffy reacts violently to. Adam appears, agreeing with Hatcler, bringing up the fact that Fluffy is related to possibly many on the board. Fluffy and Adam soon insult each other, and Adam calls themself Fluffy’s enemy, to which Fluffy vehemently rejects. Adam, in anger, almost strangles Fluffy to death, but quickly lets them go, apologizing in tears. Fluffy unlocks green strings, and also notices eyes everywhere. They flee.

Aamit appears now as a therapist to Cupcler, and soon many others. Fluffy has a dream about a shirtless Cupcler and tells Aamit (unfortunately, this is important for later. very unfortunately.)

Dweebo appears, going around and measuring chaos levels of people in Rtumblr, however they crash when they receive some complicated questions from Hatcler. Their Mimic form is activated when they reboot. They talk with Adam, who tries to tell Dweebo that something else is in their system. When Dweebo goes to scan, they find nothing, and decide to rest. Mimic is fully released then. They go and talk to Fluffy and Jay, gaining mimics of their powers, before they run into Adam again. Adam doesn’t want anything to do with Mimic, which makes Mimic upset. Adam goes to console Mimic, however Mimic teleports out of the hug, and attacks Adam with mimics of Fluffy’s power. Fluffy manages to make contact with Dweebo, who convinces Fluffy to help Adam and distract Mimic.

A battle begins between Mimic and Fluffy, but Mimic quickly traps Fluffy in a ball of strings. Fluffy uses this to their advantage and runs Mimic over with the ball of strings before they can hurt Adam. Mimic attempts to get back up, but Void appears, putting a stop to everyone fighting.

In the meantime, Jay establishes connection, looking beat up, appearing to be running from a copy themself. They manage to escape, but the footage is cut.

The Newscaster is asked about what happened to his colour, which prompts him to talk a little about his mysterious circumstances around his death. It soon becomes clear that something is.. off with the Newscaster.

Fluffy brings a landmine into Aamit’s office, which the Newscaster shows up and disarms.

Bam! Rt Godot strikes and my dash is flooded for like two weeks

Fluffy and Copper rp in tags which I don’t want to go and search for in concern for my dwindling sanity. Somewhere, Copper tells Fluffy she wants to leave the company, and so Fluffy must terminate Copper per their employment contract.

Adam shows up, and Copper goes with them to their garden, where she tells them about the situation with leaving Fluffy’s company.

Adam speaks with Fluffy, asking about what is happening with Copper. Eventually, Fluffy makes a deal with Adam, giving Copper’s soul to Adam, then they exchange their soul for Copper’s. So Adam has Fluffy’s soul now, but at the cost of a wish. Fluffy instantly uses this wish to have Adam sign a certain paper without asking questions or destroying it. Adam signs it, and is successfully employed under Fluffy. Now Fluffy and Adam work for each other. (ARE YOU STILL WITH ME?? NO? GOOD.)

Adam shows Fluffy their garden, bonding over flowers. Adam then goes and gets Copper, and leaves her and Fluffy in the garden. Fluffy takes two holy knives and sets Adam’s garden on fire. As you do.

Copper runs into Adam trying to get out, who demands to know where Fluffy is. When Copper refuses to tell them, they grab a holy knife Fluffy left and put it in Copper’s hands, telling them that if they wanted to protect Fluffy so much, to kill them. Eventually though, Adam lets Copper go and continues to search for Fluffy. Adam finds Fluffy, threatening them before sending them off.

Fluffy finds Copper crying, and teleports them to Fluffy’s lair. There, they have a very long conversation that reads like three separate conversations which I will not be re-reading again because it hurts my brain.

The Newscaster visits with Adam, and they have a small talk before the Newscaster departs again.

Fluffy pays Adam’s salary in pats, and finds out Adam does not like their touch.

Dweebo measures Kish’s chaos, and they go to prank Adam, which does not end well, but Adam lets them both go in the end.

The Newscaster begins to show signs of being unwell again.

Adam speaks with Void, who offers to kill their boss, Lucifer. Adam immediately rejects this, and also learns that Void had dated Lucifer before.

Void speaks to the Newscaster, offering to (hypothetically) make cookies for him.

The Newscaster visits Dweebo, asking about Mimic while still unwell. Dweebo convinces the Newscaster to try and rest, and they end up asking questions to each other back and forth. Dweebo starts to glitch out after talking about Mimic, however they soon regain control. The Newscaster leaves.

Fluffy visits Adam, angry with what they had Copper do in the garden while it was on fire. They cut their own hands and grab Adam’s face with them, burning Adam with their holy blood. Afterwards, they are left to care for Adam who now mistakes Fluffy for Lucifer. Fluffy lays Adam on a couch and leaves.

Adam is summoned to a building where Maya is hunting down a guy. They meet again, and talk, catching up while treating each other’s wounds. However, Adam falters, and Maya goes to help them, but when she does, Adam accuses her and everyone of wanting something from them. They argue, before Maya begins to leave, asking Adam to stay out of her life. Adam mistakes Maya for Lucifer, and Maya leaves.

Fluffy gets a call, asking if they hurt Adam badly. They reply they could have hurt them more. The caller hangs up.

The Newscaster finds Adam, and attempts to help them. He teleports Adam back to their garden, where he is able to ground Adam. His tiredness catches up with him though.

Meanwhile, Bear finds a sleeping Void…

And thats where I stopped tonight. That’s a lot, congratulations on making it down here. .. .. I have no reward for you. Sorry and fuck you (/j)

#the story so far #mod speaks #tumblr is the worst to us to go back and find posts to make sure you get details correct #people worry about fluffy and the board.. wonder what they will think of this

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thewhumperinwhite · 5 months

Text

WKW: The Voice That Shakes The Stones (Part 2)

Continued directly from this, but will make more sense if you've also read The Rose Queen parts 1 and 2.

This one follows part one in terms of getting some plot stuff out of the way up top and then some Really Heavy Whump in the back half lmao

TW for: broken bones (including ribs and spine), blood, aftermath of beating/caning, past/referenced child abuse, referenced parental death, referenced decapitation, Again Broken Bones To The Extent That It Is Essentially Body Horror.

----

Morden raises a sculpted eyebrow at Tern. “Been opening my mail, have you?”

Tern looks at him; or at least Morden assumes he does. Tern wears an elaborately constructed mask sewn out of feathers and leather and bone, and removes it very rarely.

“I open everyone’s mail,” Tern says.

Morden knows this, of course. He has no secrets to keep from his own Falconers, and if and when such secrets do arise, he will simply have Thorne deliver them. If Morden feels—caught off guard, set on edge, it is no fault of Tern’s, and snapping at his own Scout will not help him feel more in control, anyway. Morden arranges himself more casually at his desk with a bit of effort.

“What do you think of the Lady’s proposal?” he asks, forcing his voice back into its usual light and airy register.

Tern tilts his head. The mask makes him the most actually-birdlike of all the Falconers, a fact Morden usually finds endearing, though he is struggling not to be annoyed by it at the moment.

“It’s my job to know things, not to act on them,” Tern says finally. Which is a letdown after such a long thoughtful pause, even though it is also true. Morden does not roll his eyes, but the temptation is there. “What do you think, Mord?”

Morden sits up straight and brushes his hair from his face. What he thinks is, she must have eyes in the Castle that Morden can’t see, to be able to time this missive so exactly. But that thought is uselessly paranoid—Tern would know, and Tern would tell him—so he is not entertaining it. Or vocalizing it, either.

“I think she’s audacious,” he says instead, which is true. “And I think I had better consider carefully before I think anything much else.” He folds the letter back up, so that he will not keep reading it uselessly over and over, and looks up at Tern, pretending to make eye contact through the mask. “In the meantime, make sure the Prince doesn’t die, will you? I may finally be able to put him to some use.”

Tern nods, and stalks out silently, still in his soft-soled scouting boots.

Morden makes it, optimistically, another five minutes before he unfolds the letter to read it again.

“Your desires have aligned neatly with our own, dear Crane,” reads the now-familiar script, “and the appropriate sacrifices have been made.”

Morden has not yet opened the accompanying jeweled and gilded casket, but the size and heft of it—and, more importantly, the smell—makes him fairly confident he knows what will be inside.

“A healthy partnership ought be reciprocal, however,” the letter goes on.

Morden chews his thumbnail, a nervous habit he does not often indulge. He scolds himself; he is only now realizing how he has begun to enjoy his exchanges with the Rose Queen, how they have begun to feel so like a game of chess against an interesting opponent as to make him forget the stakes. It has left him feeling—exposed, now, at best; trapped if he is not careful.

He needs to make a plan.

----

This is not part of Crow’s job.

It’s all very well for Tern, who relays Crane’s instructions—“Fix up the Summer Prince; the White Crane had his fun and now wants not to play with broken toys”—and then scurry off with the excuse of some Important Scouting Duty, which Crow suspects is probably bullshit.

When Morden introduces the Falconer’s, he says that Crow’s job is “Throatcutter,” the one who makes sure everyone’s theatrics have resulted in actual corpses at the end of every ambush and skirmish. And although that isn’t all he does—far from it—that is certainly part of his job. If the White Crane had said, “I’m too busy to finish killing the Summer Prince, finish that up for me, will you?” Crow would have done it, and with a whistle and a spring in his step.

Crow is built for ending lives, it’s truly what he’s best at. He doesn’t prolong pain on purpose; he isn’t Raven. Once a creature is past a certain threshold of injury, keeping it alive becomes—boring and sad, and little else.

The Summer Prince flops slightly at Crow’s feet, as if hearing him think this. He is moving like a deboned fish. Sounds a bit like one, as well.

Morden is going to owe him, and Morden doesn’t enjoy owing things, even to his own Falconers. So at least, Crow thinks, there is that.

“I don’t suppose you can walk,” Crow says. He slides the toe of his boot underneath the writhing shape of the Summer Prince, meaning only to nudge him slightly.

There is—more give in the ribs than there should be.

The body at his feet spasms violently as the Prince tries to curl in around himself. He manages to twist his torso in a way that makes Crow’s gorge rise a bit in spite of himself, his handless arm flopping over and up to haphazardly cover his face. His legs don’t move at all.

Crow contemplates, very briefly, the idea of picking the Summer Prince up off the floor and carrying him to Heron’s quarters, or more probably to the Castle’s Healer. He doesn’t mind blood, as a rule. The blood would not be the problem.

The Prince heaves in what must be his first full breath since Crow entered the room several minutes ago. It scrapes audibly against his throat; the effort of taking it arcs his back up off the floor, except that his legs still haven’t moved. Something—either ribs or spine, Crow isn’t sure which—grinds audibly inside him and he loses whatever air he has managed to take in in a single quiet, bubbly-sounding wail.

“Eugh,” Crow says, and turns his back on what is rapidly becoming the corpse of the Summer Prince. Where has that bloody wolf pup got himself to? Cleaning up Morden’s messes is literally that kid’s whole job.

----

(Andry can’t see. He can almost breathe, if he tries very hard. It feels like lifting a very heavy weight, and at the height of each breath there is a sudden stabbing pain in his back, just left of the center, that makes him twitch. He is in—water, maybe. Or anyway his face and shoulders and ears feel wet. His lips feel wet, too, although the inside of his mouth feels very dry indeed.)

(He must have hit his head, he thinks. He knows that burning cracked-egg feeling well enough, in his temple and below his right ear and on the high point of his opposite cheek. And his back is cracked open that way too, not sharp and bone deep like the whip but broad and blunt and shattered like his father’s cane.)

(His father is—dead, he thinks, around the buzzing in his head, like bees tangled up in cotton wool. The White Crane cut off his father’s head, and Andry could not catch it when it was thrown. And now he cannot even tell if he is sorry. His father did kill him once, after all.)

(He had known where he stood with his father, though. His father was not elegant and smiling, like the White Crane.)

(Although the White Crane was not smiling this time, was he, Andry thinks; no, this time he was angry, and the worst part is that Andry does not even know why.)

(…Andry thinks that is the worst part. Then he tries to move his legs.)

----

Heron is the Falconers’ battlefield medic, and he is not a healer. He has smelling salts in his bag that will get a man to his feet and into the fray with an arrow through the stomach; and skill enough with a needle and a bandage to patch up even serious punctures well enough to heal on their own. He even knows the basic alchemy needed to keep a wound from going septic about seven times out of ten.

In this situation he is useful only in that he has a stretcher he is willing to bring to Thorne’s chamber in exchange for the privilege of seeing a mutilated body.

Crow returns with Thorne and Heron after about five minutes, and it is clear as he nears the threshold and begins to hear the Prince’s breath whistling in and out, like wind blowing across a broken bottle, that the boy has not done him the great favor of dying in the interim.

One of the Prince’s eyes is open when Crow stands over him again, but it is rolled back in his head far enough to hide all but a thin ring of blue-purple iris. The other eye is already swollen too far to open more than a crack. Every time he takes a far-too-audible breath he shudders, violently, exactly twice. His torso is still twisted at that odd angle, as though he has tried to roll over onto his side without lifting his hips.

Thorne has been helping Heron carry the stretcher. When he enters the room he drops his end of it with a loud clatter.

Heron does not seem to notice, though he gamely drops his end of the stretcher, too, so that he can dart closer to the body, his pale eyes glittering behind his physician’s mask.

(Tern and Heron are both masked more often than they aren’t; both masks, as far as Crow is concerned, are products of paranoia. Tern is convinced some authority or other is going to discover his identity, as though that would matter now that he is at the right hand of the conqueror of a whole damned country. Heron is concerned about inhalants. This seems sensible sometimes, even to Crow; Heron takes apart something like a half-dozen cadavers a week in pursuit of his craft. However he also wears the mask when it is just the eight of them alone in the Nest or in their rooms here at the castle, and that seems like overkill to Crow.)

As always, Heron’s hands are light, and clever, and ruthless. He pulls the Prince’s fluttering eyelid up and peers closely into his eye, tipping his head back quite gently. Then he presses his fingers against the Prince’s shattered ribs with slow, deliberate pressure, using his hand in the Prince’s hair to keep the Prince from curling up in a ball at what must be excruciating pain. Heron’s face is quite close to the Prince’s answering gasp. Crow, a safe distance away with his arms crossed, thinks to himself that perhaps Heron wouldn’t need the mask if he was willing to do his job without getting so very close.

When the Prince has relaxed out of his pain-spasm, Heron taps twice on the sharp edge of the Prince’s sharp recently-starved hip bone with a gloved fist. The Prince’s gasp this time is much quieter, more of a hiccup than an airless scream.

When Heron stretches out a booted foot to give the Prince’s calf a not-particularly-gentle kick, the Prince doesn’t react at all.

“That’s interesting,” Heron says, his voice dark with things Crow finds professionally distasteful.

----

Thorne left Andry—what, thirty minutes ago? An hour? Surely no more than that. Thorne left Andry asleep on the couch at the foot of his bed, wrapped in Thorne’s borrowed sheets, curled up like a child with the stump of his missing hand tucked under his chin.

Thorne’s bedsheets are in disarray, now, on the floor in front of the couch. There is blood on them. There seems, at least to Thorne’s suddenly spotty and blurred vision, to be blood more places than there isn’t.

Heron’s hand is on Andry’s throat, now, prodding narrow deep bruise that is forming there. Heron is hovering over Andry with the same excited twitchy over-interest with which he treats any sick or injured person. Thorne is familiar enough with Heron’s attention to remember the growing unease and sick, crawling discomfort it inspires.

He usually finds it easier to look away.

“Well go on,” Crow snaps at him from where leaning against the wall, looking mildly disgusted but little else. “Get him on the fucking stretcher already.”

Thorne’s instinct to obey is honed sharply enough that he moves to follow the order without thinking. So at least there is that relief.

#the winter king's ward #whump #original whump #fantasy whump #royalty whump #beaten #caning #broken bones #whumper pov #broken ribs #broken spine #parental death mention #parental abuse mention #...man its been a long time since ive posted regularly i dont remember how tags work 😭#i will TRY and remember who the taglist was for this by the time i do a next day reblog

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gildcdglory · 7 months

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APPLICATION.

* ◟ : 〔 sasha calle , nonbinary + they/them 〕 jade molina , some say you’re a twenty-nine-year-old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both independent and destructive, one can’t help but think of arsonist’s lullaby by hozier when you walk by. are you still an underground fighter / associate at ralph’s boxing gym / white crocodiles, even with your reputation as the pariah? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and a trail of ash and debris following your every step, body aching to feel anything other than numbness, blood swirling down a bathroom drain, although we can’t help but think of katniss everdeen (hunger games), ygritte (game of thrones), toph beifong (avatar the last airbender) whenever we see you down these rainy streets. ( alyx, 24, she/her, Vasily’s roommate, EST )

FILE.

full name: jade molina

age: twenty-nine

gender / pronouns: nonbinary, they/them

orientation: homosexual

affiliation: associate for the white crocodiles

occupation: underground fighter at ralph's boxing gym

family: joaquin molina (foster dad, deceased), isobel molina ( foster mom, deceased), sophia molina (foster sister, deceased), damian molina (foster brother, deceased)

faceclaim: sasha calle

inspiration: katniss everdeen (the hunger games), ygritte (game of thrones), toph beifong (avatar the last air bender)

BIOGRAPHY.

DEATH TW, FIRE TW, CHILD DEATH TW

Kids like you never truly had a chance. Born to an absent father and a criminal mother, you were thrown into the foster system before you even learned how to walk. Your childhood days were spent meeting potential parents and trying to win their hearts, but each time, you always fell short. You were too tough, too blunt, too much for these prospective parents to wrap their heads around, and with each rejection, the noose of abandonment tightened around your neck.

Eventually, you gave up your pursuit of a family. You accepted that these parents wanted little dolls they could morph into their ideal child, and you would never be able to fit that mold. The knowledge of your unwantedness stung, but you told yourself it was better this way. After all, the fewer people around, the less likely you are to disappoint them. With your current situation, you needed to impress no one but yourself.

Of course, you couldn't truly be on your own until after you turned eighteen. You were forced to move in with a foster family in the meantime, but unlike the picture-perfect families you watched growing up, this family showed the dark side hidden behind glassy eyes and hollow smiles. The beginning was fine--- a little awkward, but you made it clear you weren't going to branch out of your shell to befriend these strangers. It wasn't until a month into the arrangement that you began to feel the impact of the family dynamics. It began with little things, such as watching the parents fight the moment the other children went to bed, and it ended with flames and the knowledge that, no matter what happens, you'll always end up alone in the end.

You didn't mean to take it that far. You meant to just light a piece of paper on fire and let the smoke distract your foster parents long enough for you to steal a car and sneak away from the house, but you hadn't realized just how quickly a fire can spread. You watched as the flames ate away at the home and the family residing inside, and though you tried to go back and save your foster siblings from this tragic fate, you were left with nothing but despair and burns along your arms.

You curled up against the road, determined to let the guilt destroy you like you destroyed the house, but the sound of police sirens brought you back to reality. You realized that you had four people's deaths on your hands, and that meant either running away or accepting life in prison. Of course, you chose to run away.

You somehow managed to hitchhike your way to New York when you were barely eighteen. You had no job experience, no family, and no money, but moving was better than being caught by the cops.

You wound up living on the streets for years, bouncing from one shelter to another, attempting to work enough odd jobs to feed yourself. When you got a decent amount of money from one of your gigs, you found yourself getting a membership at Ralph's boxing gym. You knew gyms had showers and a way to blow off steam, so it seemed like the perfect investment for you. You never expected to be recruited into the underground fighting ring, but when the opportunity presented itself to you, you could do nothing but ask when the first match would be.

Your performances at the fighting ring must've caught the eye of the White Crocodiles, the true owners of the gym, for they offered you an associate spot within their organization. You never wanted a life of crime, never wanted to follow in your birth mother's footsteps, but the fear of being punished for your teenage actions led you to accept the offer.

Perhaps it's better this way. You, who treated loneliness as a death sentence, now have an opportunity to be "adopted" into the family of your childhood dreams. It didn't matter that they were criminals, or the fact that you had grown to like your solitary lifestyle. This is the hand fate dealt you, and all you can do is grasp onto it and try not to lose it to the flames too.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Coming soon :)

#lawlessintro #intro: jade #too lazy to do wc but the bio b done :))

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that--fish · 1 year

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《Hellfire》

The Prologue

Synopsis of series: Yn gets married off to the head of the Kamisato Clan. Yn's family, Inazuma's wealthiest tycoons, were nearly on the brink of bankruptcy so they arranged a marriage with one of Inazuma's most powerful politicians to maintain their power. Would Yn be a sacrificed pawn in a bigger game or would she turn the tables?

Tw: yn's dad, sexism, slight abuse :D

A jug of angst and a pinch of fluff ☁️✨️

Overhearing the conversation of my parents, I felt abandoned.

But...I'm not truly useless, am I?

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

3 years ago:

"No, Yn, your older brother will be the next heir of the company." Father sounded colder than the tip of Dragonspine, does he really despise me that much?

"Why him?"

"He has a use here; he is a born leader, worthy of the title as CEO of Tanaka Group and as our clan head."

"What about me? Are you deeming me useless?!"

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

6 years ago:

"Father, can I go for sword-fighting class? It looks fun-"

"You are a lady, you are not meant to do such things. Sigh I will send you for ballet classes instead, would you be happy with that?"

"Why must I do things that you deem ladylike or refined? My brother can pursue his tertiary studies overseas in Sumeru. What about me? Our family has more than enough money to let me study as well. I have been confined within the walls of this estate for all my life! I-"

A burning sensation spread across my cheek.

"Gasps HOW DARE YOU-"

"YOU IMPUDENT CHILD! YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR YOUR ELDERS! YOU ARE UTTERLY USELESS, MY CHILD, USELESS, GET THAT IN YOUR HEAD! ALL YOU WILL EVER BE USEFUL FOR IS TO GET MARRIED!"

"I-"

"YOU DARE NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS! GO TO YOUR ROOM THIS INSTANT!"

I stormed to my room and curled up in a corner, tears flooded my eyes. This was the first time father ever treated me like this since the passing of mother. I miss her so much...

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

3 years ago:

"You will get married to a suitor of my choice whether you like it or not, Yn."

"I oppose the idea of my marriage!"

"You. Will. Get. Married. Now, in the meantime, you can go and practice ballet, you have a recital in a few weeks."

Same old, same old. There is no stopping father's will. My brother wouldn't dare object him even though he has the power to do so. What am I here for? To be a human punching bag? Why bother crying, it's useless anyways.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

What happened to mother was horrible, she didn't deserve such a gruesome end. When I was walking in the hallway a few days after mother's death, some of the maids were gossiping about mother's death, one of them said they witnessed it. Father brutally murdered mother with the help of my brother. I felt absolutely disgusted at the thought of it. Why would they murder her in cold blood? I didn't have the slightest clue.

And the woman that father married. Eulgh, her perfume is terribly pungent, she is like a demon that crawled out of the deepest, darkest pits of hell. Her face, ever so cakey with makeup, how she dresses isn't far from a brothel owner.

At least father has found someone he can call his equal.

They are going to marry me off to the head of the Kamisato Clan, Kamisato Ayato within a month, right after my 18th birthday. What impeccable timing, father.

It's almost the end of winter, still a bit chilly though. I gazed out of my frosted window. Snow was coating the tiled roofs of Inazuma City, I've never been out there before, mainly my imagination and novels shaped my perception of the world outside.

The world is such a cruel and evil place with people willing to get their hands dirty in order to achieve their wants and needs. They manipulate to get what they want, free things come with strings attached, there is no one you can trust. Yet, the world is beautiful and serene, like having a lover to rely on, maybe a soulmate whom you have been begging the stars for, a person to be with for an eternity, a romantic walk on the beach, the wonderful scenery one can't imagine...I'm far too familiar with the art of manipulation but I cant imagine myself being - in love with someone. Well, not like its my choice anyway. Sigh However am I going to get out of this hellhole of a place?

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin impact wallpaper #ayato kamisato fanart #ayato fluff #ayato imagines #ayato x you #kamisato ayato #ayato x y/n #ayato fanart #ayato x reader #genshin wallpaper #ayato headcanons #ayato

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wheretheresaway-theresawilliam · 5 months

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Chapter 17: Sacrifice

Word Count: 952

TWs: Child death, blood mentions, food mentions

⛤⛤⛤

The truth had been plaguing him, staring him in the face for some time now. He could not produce the same results with different elements. But he had to be smart about what he had to do, for this could be the final straw that broke the back of his reputation. And yet it was as if some higher being was on his side. Not a being of light, but a higher being nonetheless. He had seen a young girl trying to enjoy herself at Freddy’s, but she kept teetering on the edge of tears. No one else seemed to notice.

“Is everything alright, young lady?” William asked as he approached. She sniffled, rubbing her eyes on the back of her sleeve.

“No…”

“Oh? What’s wrong, if you’d like to tell me, of course.”

“My d-dog ran away a few days ago… m-my mom and d-dad left me here while they went and looked for him again… I-I’m trying not to worry, but I just want to see Pancakes again…”

“I’m sorry to hear that… what’s your name?”

“Lisa Nicole…”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lisa. What did Pancakes look like?”

“He’s a brown French Bulldog! And he loves to steal frenchfries, hehe…”

“How sweet. I’ll keep an eye open for him. In the meantime… how would you like a performance from SpringBonnie to cheer you up?”

“SpringBonnie?”

“Yes. He’s a cousin of Bonnie’s, but he only comes out for special occasions. He’s a very good dancer and knows some wonderful jokes. And I bet he’d even share some cupcakes with you if you asked nicely.”

The little girl’s eyes widened at the mention of cupcakes. “Really?”

“Oh yes. Come with me, SpringBonnie has his own special room.”

So far, so good. William led Lisa to an unused backroom, in which he had set up a plastic table with a singular chair. Hidden in a shadowy corner, a prototype animatronic with no particularly distinguishing features lay in wait.

“Ah, look at that, he’s already put out snacks. It’s as if he was just waiting to make somebody’s day. Why don’t you take a seat while I go tell him he has a visitor?”

“Okay!” Lisa excitedly took a seat, picking up one of the cupcakes. William left, residing to the costume and repairs room, in which he put on the SpringBonnie suit. His second skin. Hidden between a few folds of fabric was a knife. He returned to the room where he left Lisa, clearing his throat before entering.

“Hello, hello! I heard somebody was in need of a pep up!” He entertained her with jokes and a brief segment of juggling, just until he was sure she was starting to feel better. He subtly removed the knife from his suit. He felt cold and calculated beneath the mask, breathing shallowly. He acted swiftly, wrapping a large hand over the girl’s mouth before plunging the knife into her chest, twisting the blade as blood stained the front of her shirt. She sobbed and screamed, but the sound could not escape William’s palm as she began to die in his arms. He plunged the knife in again, and again, before hauling the limp and tiny body into the empty chest of the prototype animatronic. He placed the head on top of her own. How long would it take for the soul to manifest in its new vessel? Only time would tell. Until then, William had to keep this hidden from the world. Hidden from Henry, hidden from Norman.

His blood coursed warmly through his veins as he stared down at his work. Lisa’s blood had dripped onto the linoleum floor and now coated the inside of the animatronic. Flecks had sprayed onto his gloves, but it was nothing he couldn’t cover up. Wash away. He exited the room and locked it shut before returning to the costume and repairs room to remove the suit. After this, he tracked down Norman and handed him the keys to the backroom.

“Guard these with your life.”

Norman blinked at him, bewildered. “What…?”

“Don’t question it. Just think of it as part of your job.”

“Well, alright…”

“And if I ever need them again, don’t hesitate to hand them over.”

“You’re acting very suspicious, William.”

William smiled like a shark. “It’s a surprise, my dear.”

“I see.”

“Oh, and keep your eyes out for a brown French Bulldog, I heard one went missing.”

“What do you want with a French Bulldog?”

“Can’t I boost my reputation a bit by returning a lost pet?~”

“God, you get more insufferable every time I talk to you in public,” Norman growled in light frustration, eying his partner’s tie. “Stop trying to make me kiss you.”

William chuckled. “Later.” His eyes wandered toward the front of the restaurant. Two adults who could’ve easily been Lisa’s parents had entered. He kept his distance from them until they started to appear distraught.

“Something I can help you with?” William asked.

“Our daughter,” Mr. Nicole answered, “we left her here while we went looking for our lost dog. You haven’t happened to see her, have you, Mr. Afton? She looks just like her mother, but she’s got my lips and nose… and she’s just a bit taller than my knees.”

“She was wearing a purple sweater, blue skirt, black leggings, and some bracelets,” Mrs. Nicole chimed in, anxiously wringing her hands. “One of us should’ve stayed behind…”

“I believe I saw a child matching that description… she left just a few minutes ago.”

“What?!”

“I suppose maybe she wanted to help.”

The Nicoles turned and ran outside to look for their daughter. It struck a twisted funny bone deep in William’s psyche. Poor fools.

#fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf fic #fnaf oc #william afton #accursed heritage au

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raging-violets · 1 year

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Under Pressure // Kendall x Riley // Big Time Rush

Summary – Kendall is stressed and under a lot of pressure and only one person can really understand how he feels, especially when it has to do with his father.

A/N: I’ve done something like this before but this one-shot hit me after reading a post about Kendall on tumblr and wouldn’t let me go until I finished writing it. So, in essence, this is a character study on Kendall, lol.

Set during 2x11 – Big Time Songwriters (though it just mentions it more than it being a plot point).

Words: 3069

TW: mentions of child abuse, deadbeat dad, neglect, parentification, parent death

Tightness stretched across Kendall’s shoulders, increasing as the seconds passed. So much so that he stopped to wiggle and stretch them every few steps. Nothing was making the boulders of his muscles melt away. And it probably wouldn’t until peace returned to him and that wouldn’t happen until his father left Los Angeles.

In the meantime, everything was fine.

He was fine.

He was so fine.

He was so not fine.

Kendall turned away from the mirror, pressing his hands into the sides of his head. He paced across the floor of the costume closet, hearing the distant sound of Gustavo’s screams. The screams only slightly accompanied by off-key notes slammed on a piano.

Not a good song writing day, if Kendall had to guess. Not that he even had to guess. The look on Kelly’s face when he arrived at Rocque Records that day was clear enough. The twitching of her eye only stopped long enough for her to ask, “What are you doing here? You’re not scheduled until tomorrow.”

“I just wanted to…” Kendall briefly closed his eyes. Thought hard for an excuse. He opened his eyes and glanced at the empty practice rooms nearby. “Get some guitar practice in. You know…” he blinked hard, forced a smile that was seconds from breaking. “See if we can spruce up the ‘Oh Yeah’ song.”

“Okay…” Kelly gazed at Kendall. Who wasn’t blinking as he continued to smile at her. “Stop it. That’s creepy.” Kendall dropped his smile. Kelly looked him up and down for a minute. “So long as you don’t destroy the place like you did when you and the boys were writing. Everything’s still getting patched up.”

Kendall nodded and backed away from Kelly, heading towards the practice room, stepping over the broken pieces of furniture and poster sized photos of Rocque Records bands that had been ripped off the walls, wincing as he did so. (And that was nothing compared to the wince that went across his and his friends’ faces when they say the bald patch in the back of his head after he’d ripped out the hair extensions he’d put in when dressed as a viking that day).

After a few steps, Kendall turned back as if he’d only just though tof something. “Hey, uh, do you know if Riley’s here?” He ignored the knowing smile that stretched across Kelly’s face before following her head tilt toward the costume closet. “Just…you know…Gustavo’s asking about the outfits for our videos so I thought I’d…y’know…check on it.”

“Uh-huh.”

So there he was, pacing, pacing, pacing, trying not to look at himself in the mirror. Because if he looked in the mirror, he wasn’t going to see himself, he was going to see him. The man who—unfortunately—had given him half his genes and DNA. The same man he had just seen not even an hour before and Kendall barely managed to get through that conversation without his brain exploding from the pressure of keeping his mouth shut.

He hadn’t been that angry since the all-out war he and the boys had when writing their song. But that was even worse; that was a song that needed to be written so it could go on the deluxe album per Griffin’s wishes. And even then, it was even more pressure because they were writing their first song to prove a point to Gustavo and they needed to like it so he would like it so Griffin would like it so that the fans and critics would like it and…

Kendall’s temples throbbed at the mere thought.

If things didn’t go well with the song, then they wouldn’t go well with the band, then all of that time they spent going to LA would’ve been…a catastrophic failure. Which would mean…everything in his life would’ve ended in abysmal failure.

His parents’ marriage? Ruined when his father became a professional hockey player and enjoyed that life more than being a family man. (Where he may or may not have cheated on his mom, Kendall still didn’t know for sure.). He ended up being the “man of the house” at a young age. Had to be the one in charge of anything and everything when his mom wasn’t there. Had to be another parent when he didn’t even truly know what being a parent was.

His mom? Worked as a waitress in a diner just to be able to afford groceries, rent, Kendall’s hockey and Katie’s lacrosse. She worked almost all day every day and he could barely remember when she got a full day off. Sometimes, Kendall wondered if his mom knew how to be a person again. Not a mom. Not a provider. But a person.

Katie? He walked her to and from the school bus every day, made sure she got into the house okay, consistently called in and checked on her while she was there. Took her to his hockey practices when he had no choice but to go and he watched her quietly sit in the stands, bundled up against the cold, sometimes falling asleep on the bleachers. (She got to know the staff at the arena very well, they were her first victims of poker playing).

His friends? They were always going to be by his side. He couldn’t remember the last time he wans’t. If they got detention he was either coming up with a plan to get them out of it or get him in it just so they could hang out. Anyone who dared tried to say anything bad about them (saying James had no talent, that Logan was a wimp, that Carlos was crazy) was met with potential death. The amount of times he’d gotten into fights with guys who tried to bully Logan or with bigger goons on the ice trying to smash James’s face in was enough to give him the nickname “Killer” early in his hockey career. He was nothing without his friends. So much so that even when James was mad about him getting the deal to go to LA to make music Kendall couldn’t imagine not having them with him.

Him? He had to take care of the cooking and housekeeping while his mom worked late into the night. Where he still had to do his homework, study for tests, worked as the captain of the hockey team, hung out and got in trouble with his friends, and keep his job at the grocery store. All the while he kept a smile on his face. He was loyal, compassionate, friendly, kind, caring, smart, and loyal to everyone around him. The people he loved and cared about. He helped Mrs. Magicowski with her yardwork when the time came, bringing her home some groceries when he was able to get some from the store. Giving up multiple areas of his life, growing up fast so that he could make his life a little bit easier for his mom and sister.

Any of that becoming pointless, becoming useless, becoming not worth it…was not a reality he wanted to live. And if that all came crashing down because he couldn’t get his fucking father’s face out of his head…he’d never forgive him.

Not that he ever would anyway.

The more he looked himself in the mirror, the more he saw his father’s face in his own. It was all he could do to keep from smashing himself in the face with a hockey stick just to knock his father’s teeth out. The idea made him smile in that way that had multiple people telling him, “Stop it, it’s creepy” more than enough times that day.

“What are you doing here, Hockey-Head? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting your dad?” Riley’s voice made Kendall turn. She moved into the costume closet, closing the door with her foot as she carefully maneuvered a surfboard through the door. She set the board on the wall and brushed her wet hair behind her shoulders. “You’re not going to tell Kelly and Gustavo I skivved off, yeah?”

Kendall smiled softly. “No, I won’t tell them.”

“Ace.” Riley peered at him closely then moved to sit on the arm of the couch. “I reckon you being here means your meeting with your dad didn’t go well.” She looped her arms around her upraised knees as he collapsed onto the couch next to her.

“Understatement of the century,” he replied. He flopped back, draping his arm over his face. Let out a heavy sigh, the weight on his shoulders only given a slight reprieve while lying down. “I could hardly stand looking at him.”

He could hear Riley hum softly. “What’d he say?”

“That he was happy to see me,” Kendall replied. He dropped his arm from his face, resting his hands on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. Alternated looking at Riley then back to the ceiling once more. “That he was glad I took the time to meet with him. That I looked like I was doing well. He wanted to know everything about me.”

A bitter laugh ripped from his throat, as if it had been waiting in the wings for the right moment to strike. The harshness of his laugh, he saw, made Riley jump. She blinked over at him, eyebrows coming together in concern.

“My own dad wanted to know everything about me, like I was some random kid he’d just met for the first time.” The reality of the thought, sobering, settled right into Kendall’s gut. His voice was soft when he repeated himself. “To him I’m some random kid he’d just met for the first time.” Even quieter when he added, “He didn’t even apologize.”

“What do you want him to apologize for?” Riley asked. For a moment, Kendall shot her a ‘are you serious?’ look. The tension in his shoulders moved to his head, started to throb with his heart beat. She simply blinked back at him, blue eyes big and round as she gazed back at him, chin then resting on her knees.

“He couldn’t apologize for leaving,” Kendall said. “I gave him so many chances…and he couldn’t even mention how he’s been gone. He just kept asking me questions, things he would know if he was around. He couldn’t even remember how old Katie is!”

An even stronger throb of pressure.

Kendall clenched his teeth together, working to keep from exploding.

“He acted like he’d always been there and just forgot some things. Like we’d always been in LA, he kept talking about places to and things to see as if being out here was normal.” Kendall’s eyebrows came together when it hit him. “It’s normal to him. Because he’s been out here. He’s lived a life of luxury while we’ve been in Minnesota struggling to make rent every day. He’s been living the life anyone would ever dream of while mom was working from sunup to sundown and barely got a day off. And he was out here while Katie was the only girl in her class who didn’t have a dad to go to the ‘Daddy-daughter’ dance at school, so I had to take her!”

“Kendall—”

“And Mom had to deal with all the whispers and rumors of the other hockey moms. And she had to deal with a crappy boss at the diner just to take care of us. And taking me to my hockey practices and hockey games! And she wouldn’t let me quit them to work more to help her! All the while he was living in the lap of luxury as if he had no family to come home to.” He lurched to his feet, hands slamming into clenched fists. “I hate him!”

Lift off.

“I hate him for what he did to you!” Fury couldn’t describe the emotion that flashed over Kendall’s face. Swirled through his eyes. Riley watched him violently place; eyes wide as she slowly stood from the arm of the couch. “How he stood up there and made it so that the guy that abused you for years practically got off scott free. He stood there and told a judge that you guys were practically the reason for Robert to torture you all for so long and work you to the bone for your career just so he could make money!”

“—Kendall.”

Kendall turned to look Riley in the eye. “I hate that everyone knows what he did. That he knows you all didn’t deserve it and still tried to make it look like you were to blame. How he made other people think Robert was just an innocent man who was stressed and worked out his stress in a bad way. I hate that he did the same thing to you that…” Kendall trailed off.

Riley took in a deep breath then bluntly said, “That’s not what’s bothering you.”

Kendall’s hands clenched once more, twisting in the air, as if he were wringing the neck of a hockey stick. Seconds away from taking it and slamming it over his knee. The thought made him smirk a little, wondering what his dad would think if they ever came up against each other in a hockey game. He wasn’t called “Killer” for nothing. Then again, his dad wasn’t called “Knuckles” for nothing either.

“What do you want me to say?” Kendall demanded.

“The truth!” Riley shot back. “How you’re really feeling! You fucking hate him; I know you do. But you don’t hate him for us, you hate him for you!” She jabbed him in the chest with her fingertip. “I hate him for what he did to you and Katie. And I don’t even know him! You’re his son and he did that to you! With Rob…your dad was just doing his job. But for you…he wasn’t doing his job as a dad.”

Kendall dropped his hands back to his sides, then folded his arms. He was silent for a long moment. “Do you want to hear how I got tired of hearing my mom cry every night? When she thought Katie and I couldn’t hear her? Where I saw her stressing out over bills and charges? Where I thought about dropping out of hockey because I knew how expensive it was? How I had to live up to his name over and over because it was all people wanted to talk about? How I always had to hear ‘you’re just like your father?’ and cringe inside? How much I don’t like to look in the mirror because I look like him? How I often wonder if my mannerisms are his or if they’re mine? How I hate how angry I am at him and that I hate how everything Gustavo’s ever said to me just reminds me of him? How, as much as I hate him, there’s a tiny part of me that wonders if this time…” he trailed off, his voice cracking badly, the pressure lessening. “If this time is the time he decides to stay? And I have to act like…like none of that happened? And I have to pretend like nothing’s wrong if he leaves again?

“ I don’t…I can’t…” Kendall brought his hands up to the sides of his head, grasped his hair. His chest heaved, tears trickling over his cheeks. “I can’t take the pressure.” He sank to the floor and pressed his face into his hands. Hated that he was crying and equally hating it was his dad that was making him do it.

He slid to the floor, bringing up his legs and hid his face behind his arms. Allowed the tears to flow as long as they would go. He felt Riley sit down next to him before she put her arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his.

They sat that way for a long time. He had no idea how long. All he could focus was on the throbbing in his back and shoulders that slowly ebbed away with each pulse of his heart. Starting off strong then simmered. A gesture like that, one that his mother usually would give him, would’ve sent him running. (More likely to the hockey rink, where he would’ve done laps until he was dripping with sweat and exhausted). But he simply collapsed into Riley’s shoulder, resting his head under her chin, in the crook of her neck.

“You’re lucky,” Kendall murmured. “Your parents are dead. They can’t let you down.”

Riley’s voice was flat. “Yeah, not being able to have them at any of our milestones…let alone to meet you…I have no idea what being let down means.”

Kendall sucked in a sharp breath, briefly closing his eyes. Was almost too ashamed to open his eyes again, afraid of the ferocity of the anger she’d deserve to throw his way if she wanted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

She raised her hand, cutting him off. Not out of anger, but compassion. A tearful compassion that showed she completely understood what he meant and didn’t hate him for it. “Don’t be sorry, Hockey-Head,” she said. “This isn’t about me.”

“I don’t want him in my life.”

“You don’t have to want him in your life. Not just because he’s your dad. Just keep the people you want around.” With the hand by his head, she tapped him on the side of the head. “You’re in control of your life and who’s in it, Kendork.” He chuckled, lightly rolling his eyes at the use of one of her many nicknames for him. “Don’t give anyone else that power.”

Kendall nodded.

He brought up his hand and grasped hers, squeezing it.

His shoulders slumped.

The pain went away.

Relief.

He was fine.

Kendall lifted his head and looked at her. “How did you do that?” He asked.

Riley smiled.

Tag List: @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @mystic-scripture @darknightfrombeyond @arrthurpendragon

#big time rush #big time rush oc #btr #kendall knight #oc: riley jackson #fc: kaya scodelario #tw: child abuse #tw: deadbeat dad #tw: neglect #tw: parentification #tw: parent death #by: riley #this idea wouldn't leave me alone #hope you liked a little bit of kiley fluff #kiley #otp; kiley #otp: knight light #otp: hockey head and surfer babe

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honeytoast · 5 months

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『 ROBERT SHEEHAN, CIS MALE, HE/HIM 』wait a second! isn’t that ( ISAAC MCCORMICK ) who just walked into jack’s bar? rumor around town is that the local is approaching their ( EIGHTEENTH ) year in virgin river. in the meantime, you can find the ( THIRTY-THREE ) year old working as an ( ENGLISH TEACHER & AUTHOR ) at ( VR HIGH SCHOOL ). rumor around town is that ( HE ) has a reputation for being a little ( LOQUACIOUS ), but they make up for it by being ( ALTRUISTIC ). 』

Hi, I'm Effie! It's been a bit since I've written in a group setting or at all so I'm very excited to be here writing with you all. I do want to share that I do suffer from pretty severe social anxiety so if I do take a while to respond to a message, please don't think I'm ignoring you. I assure you I'm probably just working up the courage to respond. Enough about me though. If you would love to learn more about this loquacious little shit please click that read-more link below ⤵

Basics:

full name: Isaac McCormick nickname: Is pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man sexuality: pansexual birth date: January 7, 1990 birthplace: Beverly Hills, California occupation: High School English Teacher at VR High School & author family: Violet Fern McCormick (daughter), Alexander McCormick (father, somewhat estranged), Fern McCormick (mother, deceased), Marianne O'Connell (maternal grandmother, deceased), Arthur O'Connell (maternal grandfather, deceased), Iggy Pawzalea (dog) height: 6’0” weight: 154 lbs hair color: Brown eye color: Green

Biography:

Trigger Warnings: death tw, mental health tw, suicide attempt tw (mentioned vaguely), hospital tw (mentioned briefly), parental death tw, teenage pregnancy tw, car accident tw

The first, and ultimately only, child of an affluent young couple, Isaac was born and raised primarily in Beverly Hills, California. Being their only child, his parents doted on him, giving him just about anything and everything he could possibly want. This didn't mean, however, that he grew up spoiled. Unlike his father, his mother wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth so it was important to her that their son knew not only the worth of a dollar but the meaning of hard work.

Growing up, the home they shared was full of love and laughter, and for the first fourteen years of his life, everything was perfect. The day everything changed began as any other. Isaac had been feeling sick for about a week, barely eating or leaving his bed so when he was finally feeling better, his mother was more than happy to fulfill any breakfast request he had that morning. He had decided to ask for his favorite thing; chocolate chip pancakes, but after realizing they were out of chocolate chips, his mom decided to take a quick trip to the store with Isaac along for the ride. It was on the way there that everything changed. Their car was struck by a truck that blew through the light. While Isaac was injured but came out alive, his mother wasn't so lucky.

Following the passing of his mother, Isaac fell into a deep depression. He blamed himself for her death and though his father did not, he withdrew, burying himself in work to distract from the loss of his wife. In an instant, the warm and loving home he once knew was replaced by the shell of what once was. For months, Isaac struggled with the all-encompassing grief and guilt he felt over the death of his mother, and just a month or so shy of his fifteenth birthday, he decided he couldn't take it anymore.

It was a member of the staff that found him and after a short stay in the hospital followed by a stay in a psychiatric program, Isaac was sent to live with his grandparents from his mother's side in Virgin River per his grandmother's request. At first, Isaac was angry. he thought it was bullshit that his father would ship him off to the middle of nowhere, but with time, he realized it was the best decision for him. Though it took time and a lot of therapy, things started to get better for Isaac. While the guilt and pain he felt over his mother's passing never truly subsided, he made room for it, and in time, he slowly began to find joy in life again. He made friends and even grew to like Virgin River. Sure, it was boring as shit for a teenager, but he soon found that there was a sort of peace that could be found in the surrounding nature. That, and he met a girl.

The two of them began as nothing more than friends, but with time they developed feelings for one another. Before long, they were positively inseparable and nauseatingly in love. So, it really shouldn't have been all that surprising when the two sixteen-year-olds discovered that they were going to be parents. For two weeks, they grappled with what to do in secret before deciding that they would keep their baby and raise her together. Naturally, their families were less than thrilled. It didn't take long after that before everyone in town knew, because if there was one thing the people of Virgin River were incapable of doing, it was keeping a secret. For weeks, it was all people could talk about, but with time it faded. Sure, there was still the occasional resident that gave a judgmental look or passing remark, but after a couple more “scandals”, the excitement seemed to die down.

Before Isaac knew it, nine months had passed, and the two became the terrified parents of a healthy baby girl whom they named Violet Fern after his late mother. Then two weeks later, Isaac found himself a single parent after Violet's mother took off with nothing but a letter to say goodbye. He was heartbroken and angry, but in time he understood. After all, taking care of a baby was a lot for anyone, much less someone who was still a child themselves. With the help of his grandparents and a little help from the residents of Virgin River, Isaac raised his daughter as a single parent. Though it was hard, he managed to graduate high school and even went on to college all while balancing parenthood.

After graduating college, he began working as an English teacher at the local high school. Though he originally got into teaching because it was what his mother did for a living and it helped him keep a similar schedule to his daughter when she started school, he found that he loved the job. He enjoyed not only teaching but also helping students discover and explore their love of reading and writing. The years passed quickly and before he knew it his baby girl was a sixteen-year-old teenager.

During that time, not all that much changed. He was still working as a teacher at the high school and also began a prolific career as an author. Despite doing well for himself, he and Violet stayed living with his grandparents. At first, it was because he was still young and struggling to find that balance between work and parenthood, but by the time he felt confident enough to move to a place of his own, his grandfather passed. Not wanting to leave his elderly grandmother alone, he chose to stay living with her to help her when needed. Following her passing a year ago, Isaac had the choice to sell the house and move elsewhere but chose to not only keep their home but continue living there. A choice he occasionally questions when his late grandmother’s friend sends him on blind dates after she made them promise to help him find someone nice to settle down with. While he hates those dates, he continues to go on them for fear that his grandmother may haunt him if he doesn’t.

Additional tidbits:

As a child, Isaac dreamed of becoming a professional chef. His mother loved to cook and passed that love on to him. While he didn’t end up pursuing a career as a chef, he still loves to cook and bake for those he cares for. He’s very much a stress baker. Usually, those baked goods end up in his class for his students to enjoy, but if you’re friends with him, you’re guaranteed to be gifted baked goods as well.

While Isaac escaped the car wreck that took his mother’s life relatively unscathed, he did suffer severe hearing loss in his right ear. Because of this, he often wears a hearing aid to help, but even that doesn’t allow him to hear everything. Due to his hearing loss, he occasionally drifts to the right when he walks. He has improved this with time, but if he’s distracted while going somewhere, he will still drift slightly. It’s best to keep to his left when walking with him to avoid being bumped into.

Isaac was and continues to be an avid reader. More often than not he can be seen tucked away with a book, reading and scribbling notes in the margins during his free time.

As a teacher, Isaac cares deeply for his students. He does his best to make sure every student’s needs are being cared for. Whether that is something as simple as ensuring that they understand what they are being taught or being there to listen to whatever problems they have in or outside of school. In his class, he has everything from snacks or drinks to personal care items in case any of his students may not have access to those things at home.

Isaac is an incredibly compassionate and giving person. He often anonymously donates to charity and loves to volunteer whenever needed. He even goes as far as to force his father to donate to charities and organizations often, wanting nothing more than to do some good and make the world a better place. His therapist thinks this may have to do with the guilt he still feels over his mother's death, but he insists it doesn't. He just wants to make the world a better place for when he eventually does leave.

Despite essentially being a trust fund baby, Isaac doesn’t live his life lavishly. He still lives in his grandparents’ old home with his daughter and prefers to live a quiet and simple life.

Personality:

+ compassionate, loyal, creative, and intelligent

-headstrong, loquacious, flirtatious, and pathologically altruistic

Isaac is a deeply passionate and selfless person. He goes all in for those he cares for, whether they are family, a friend, or even just a student of his. While he is normally as laid back as they get, he never hesitates to stand up for the things he believes in and hopes to instill that same passion in his daughter. A hopeless romantic at heart, he loves love, and hopes to one day find someone to share his life with, but is also afraid to open his heart up again. Especially since becoming a father, knowing that he can't bring just anyone around his daughter. That being said, the boy is a shameless flirt but he has somewhat gotten that under control as he's gotten older. He dislikes cops, believes in equal rights for all, and very much advocates for the reading of banned books. Especially those written by marginalized communities. In his free time, he loves spending as much time with his daughter as he can and hopes with everything in him that he's raising a strong independent woman who is not afraid to use the voice her mother gave her. All in all, Isaac is easy to get along with and does his very best to make the world a better place. Even if it's something as small and simple as donating to charities or helping the students in his class with whatever they need.

Potential Connections:

The best friend(s): (0/2?) Someone he is ride or die with. Could be someone he has known since high school or someone he has known for only a little while. Platonic soulmates who are always over each other’s houses. Perks include copious amounts of baked goods, a shoulder to cry on, & one good ear to listen to your problems.

Ex’s: (0/?) Admittedly he doesn’t have many of these. Aside from Violet’s mother, he hasn’t dated all that much, but these two dated for a while. Could be a few months to a couple years. They could have ended up as friends or enemies. Either is fun.

Ex blind dates: (0/?) He’s been on many. The possibilities are endless. Did they hit it off but not work out? Was it super awkward and now they avoid each other when possible? Did they hook up and then go their separate ways?

Enemies: (0/?) Not sure he would have many of these, but always love a little tension. This could have stemmed from something as small as a “stolen” parking spot to a long-simmering feud between the two. Maybe a blind date that went horribly awry. Idk. Flirtation or the start of something: (0/1) It’s no secret that Isaac flirts with just about anything with a heartbeat, that’s just how he is, but while most of it is just friendly flirtation this might be different. Could develop into more or just remain his favorite person to flirt with.

Violet’s mother: (0/1) I might put this out as a wanted connection. The two dated in high school and after having Violet, she left town with only a letter to say goodbye. He has mixed feelings about her. On one hand, he is still a little angry, but for the most part, he understands. Raising a kid is a lot of work and they were just kids after all. They haven’t seen each other in years and while he thinks about her often, he decided to not try and find her. Deep down, he may still have feelings for her after all this time.

Anything and everything. I know there is plenty I’m forgetting but it is late so I’m open to anything!

Aesthetics:

Big bear hugs, notes crammed in the margins of worn paperbacks, heart-shaped lollipops, messy beds, warm chocolate chip cookies, scars faded with time, twinkling fairy lights, a worn leather jacket with patches hand-sewn on with dental floss, chipped nail polish, cheerful laughter, and the ache of loss.

Pinterest | Playlist (to be added)

#vr. intro #death tw #parental death tw #mental health tw #suicide attempt tw #teenage pregnancy tw #hospital mention tw #bio: Isaac #why is this so long? omg I'm so sorry.#car accident tw

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confectionarymaddy · 5 months

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『 LILY COLLINS, FEMALE, SHE/HER 』wait a second! isn’t that ( MADISON AVERY ) who just walked into jack’s bar? rumor around town is that the local is approaching their ( FIRST ) year in virgin river. in the meantime, you can find the ( THIRTY-FOUR ) year old working as a ( BAKER ) at ( PAIGE’S BAKEAWAY ). rumor around town is that ( SHE ) has a reputation for being a little ( GULLIBLE ), but they make up for it by being ( GENEROUS ). 『 KUROKI, 26, SHE/HER 』

Hello, everyone, I am Kuroki! I'm 26 years old on AST, super excited to be a part of this community! I'm quite new to this type of RP as I usually throw myself into independent blogs, but the chance of belonging to a community that not only provides slice of life -- which I adore -- but also bases itself on Virgin River, which my sister is quite fond of, felt like a sign for me to try it out. Forgive me for any errors I may commit along the way, I am more than willing to learn and be taught about these things. I hope I can make amazing connections and also provide lots of fun to everyone else! Here's some info about Maddy:

THE BASICS ;

NAME : Madison Avery. • • PRONOUNS : she/her. • • GENDER : cis woman. • • AGE : thirty-four • • OCCUPATION : baker • • HOMETOWN : new york. • • NATIONALITY : american. • • • • ZODIAC SIGN : aquarius. • • • • SEXUALITY : discovering. • • STATUS : available for plotting.

BIOGRAPHY ; (tw death)

• • • BORN TO A well-off family in the big city of New York, Madison has always been a dreamer. Spoiled by his parents for being their only child, she grew with dreams as big as the city she lived in and a positive outlook on everyone and everything surrounding her. Spending so much time with her grandmother, she developed a love for CONFECTIONS AND BAKING AS A WHOLE. One day, while discussing about her goals to reach with this craft, striving to bake alongside professional chefs, her grandmother mentioned something that would mark her for life; "DO YOU BAKE TO MAKE A NAME FOR YOURSELF, OR TO MAKE OTHERS HAPPY?" These words lingered in her mind, and the answer finally came to her the moment her grandmother ultimately passed away.

Carrying both grief and a brand-new hope for herself, she set off to VIRGIN RIVER, a small town her grandmother had mentioned visiting before. There, Maddy sought to find a new beginning, not to make a name for herself, but to make others happy with her baking, as she once did with her grandmother.

#vr. intro #vr.intro #information 🌸

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rominacortez · 1 year

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[cis female and she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [ROMINA CORTEZ]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [MELISSA BARRERA]. You must be the [THIRTY-FIVE] year old [PR AGENT]. Word is you’re [ORGANIZED] but can also be a bit [IMPASSIVE] and your favorite song is [WORK BY RIHANNA]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER].. I’m sure you’ll love it!

name: romina cortez

nickname: rom, romi, cortez

age: 35

gender: cis female

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: pr agent

residence: seabrook quarter

pregnancy, mentions of abortion tw: romi was unwanted from the very moment of her conception. her mother was on her way out of a relationship with someone who wasn't good for her mentally and emotionally when she found that that she was pregnant. instantly, she called the local clinic and booked an appointment without telling the father. firm on her decision, she showed up to the clinic only to be stopped by a group of people who managed to guilt her into considering her other options.

with every month that went on where she had to be with child, antonia dived further in misery. she was in a city on her own without a place to stay and when her friend's couches ran out, she relocated to a shelter. after watching many mother's with their children and the difficulties they lived with, it only reaffirmed that she was set on giving her kid something better: another family.

romi was a few days old when she was placed in the foster home that would go on to adopt her. a mixed family with enough children that silence came at a rare cost. with lack of discipline from her parents, romi often tried to put her foot down and parent her siblings due to craving some sort of stability around her. despite loving her family and its chaotic nature, she knew that she lacked something in her household.

at least it was what the therapist confirmed when she became an adult with anger issues. after so many people and partners telling her to speak to someone, she followed their advice and discovered enough about herself that she fired her therapist and walked away.

when a friend got engaged outside of high school, they booked a trip to vegas and celebrated as twent-one year olds would. it was on the last day there that she met a guy that made her extend her trip to spend with him. a few days later, they were married and high on love or lust - she still hasn't figured that one out.

the reality settled in when they had to leave and they annulled their marriage and went back to their own lives.

her first job was a personal assistant to a young designer who had no clue how to work social media. from then, she jumped from d lister to d lister until she found her current job.

not any bigger than previous ones apart from maybe being a c or b lister celebrity who constantly gets themself in trouble. the parents were the ones to hire her and ensure that they kept themself in a positive light after getting arrested a few too many times.

with her job going well for herself, she decided to ensure that her wealth was well death with by hiring a lawyer and after mentioning an annulled marriage, the news that it hadn't, in fact, been annulled hit her hard. with the news fresh in her mind, she took a flight to find the man she left behind a decade ago in order to give him the news.

specific connections:

vegas marriage: they both want it to end but just are keen on making the other miserable in the meantime

client: a teen or adult who is a celebrity but very bad at it and she's in charge of making sure they keep a good rep.

potential connections:

friends

drinking buddies

neighbours!!!

exes

one night stands

flings

enemies

work clients

#aurorabay.intro

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daydreambelievcr · 1 year

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❀ *◦ jo serim. demi woman. she/they. panromantic demisexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that sun-young “valeria / valerie” graves-seong? i think that the twenty-six year old from aurora, west virgina works as an aerialist at the carnival of time and daycare worker at the moon & sun daycare, but outside of that people describe them as bright summer days, velvet theater curtains, tangles of wildflowers, sidewalk chalk art, and pastel electric guitars. i hear they are guarded & withdrawn, but they are also known to be optimistic & generous. consider giving them a visit at their home in the marionette and get to know why they’re called the songbird.

-a sweetie that just wants to recover her lost childhood -endlessly optimistic, always smiling -was a circus performer in her youth -had a career in child acting for ten years under the stage name margo sutton -will go quiet if you insult her, but won’t hesitate to defend the people she loves -a believer in giving people the benefit of the doubt -but give her a reason to not trust you, and she won’t look back -she has a big heart, but doesn’t want to be taken advantage of again

pinterest board / playlist

flowers, i remember fields of flowers: lore.

tw: mentions of death, abuse, grooming, and sexual assault

Childhood:

Valerie doesn’t remember a great deal about her biological parents, having lost them at such a young age. Regardless, she still considers her childhood a largely happy one, and one that instilled in her a passion for creativity, performance, and whimsy.

During her time traveling with her family and performing as carneys, she trained in gymnastics and dance, performing as a trapeze artist and silk aerialist. She also discovered her love for music when she was still young, learning to play the guitar and ukulele.

At the age of nine, Valerie was scouted by a modeling agent at one of her family’s shows. Soon, she was offered the chance to fly out to LA for auditions, and the prospect of performing in a more mainstream manner and making some money to help out her siblings proved enticing to the young girl, so she jumped at the opportunity.

Adolescence:

Her journey into child acting was initially exciting, and after years of performing alongside her found family, she was accustomed to the demands of show business. Her professionalism and “maturity for her age” was something that made her both an asset to the projects she worked on, but also the target of a powerful person that she worked under.

At the age of thirteen, Valerie began to be mentally and verbally abused by a producer, which continued for two years before the abuse turned sexual in nature. When Valerie finally mustered the courage to confide in someone about the abuse when she was eighteen, she was swiftly intimidated into silence and blackballed in the industry.

Though she attempted to keep her career going with her team, in two years, she grew largely disheartened with the industry, no longer enchanted by the idea of working on sets and missing the simplicity of her childhood.

Becoming a has-been by the age of twenty was certainly a shock to Valerie, but she had no desire to continue her professional acting pursuits in Hollywood.

Present Day:

After deciding to leave her silver screen dreams behind and start anew, Valerie sought the comfort of her family, relocating to Anchorage to be near them in her twenties.

Currently, she works as an aerialist at the local carnival, happy to be reconnecting with her family, making friends, and getting back to the root of what she loved so much about performing to begin with.

Nowadays, she tends to avoid the topic of her former career in general, choosing instead to focus on the future and what lies ahead for her.

She would love to become an advocate for the protection of children somehow, but without a formal education under her belt, she has no idea where to start. In the meantime, she treasures her job at the daycare, happy to be a part of the childhoods of the children under her care.

soft beneath my heels, walking in the sun: stats.

General Info: Full Name: Sun-young “Valeria / Valerie” Danielle Graves-Seong. Nicknames: Valerie, Val, V, Sunny, Ria. Age: 26. Date of Birth: February 20th, 1998. Zodiac Sign: Pisces. Gender: Demi woman. Pronouns: she/they. Sexual Orientation: Demisexual. Romantic Orientation: Panromantic. Alignment: Neutral Good. MBTI: ENFP, the Campaigner.

Appearance: Faceclaim: Jo Serim ( Onda ). Height: 5′5. Eye Color: Brown. Hair Color: Brown naturally, but she regularly dyes it platinum blonde. She used to have bangs in her childhood/adolescence, but she currently wears it all one length. Tattoos: A watercolor dandelion on her right shoulder blade. Piercings: A single earlobe piercing on each ear.

Background: Education: Homeschooled throughout her life, finished high school at the age of seventeen. Occupation: Aerialist at the Carnival of Time and Daycare Worker at the Moon & Sun Daycare. Residence: The Marionette. Class: Middle ( comfortable, has plenty in savings from her acting days ). Ethnicity: South Korean. Language(s) Spoken: English / Korean / Spanish.

Identity: Label: the songbird. Positive Traits: kind-hearted, optimistic, empathetic, generous, enthusiastic. Negative Traits: absent-minded, withdrawn, guarded, nonconfrontational, emotional. Quirks/Habits: her eyes are very expressive, goes quiet/retreats into herself when she’s upset. Love Language: Physical touch and quality time. Hobbies: playing the guitar/ukulele, singing, baking. Likes: statement earrings, sugar cookies, knit cardigans, cowboy boots, homemade ceramics. Dislikes: people that make her feel dumb, feeling pressured to do things, being infantilized. Fears: revisiting her traumas, letting her past change who she is, losing her softness.

#anchorintro #feel free to skip any triggering parts in the lore section #but here's my sweet girl!#she's heart-shaped and here to make friends

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