#<- i'm right and you agree about all of them

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[undeadentropy]

Yeah my family told me that love was unconditional so I guess I just believed them? Had a bad habit of trusting people most of my life. Don't worry ex family, I'm cold and bitter and slow to trust people like you now, so mission accomplished I guess ✌️

Anyhow to any young autistic people, just because they don't hit you and they make some sort of apology after yelling at you doesn't mean they actually care. My family was all that and they literally kicked me out to starve to death on the streets because I tried to kill myself. Both sides, the only thing they ever agreed on after the divorce. Turns out if both sides are intelligent gaslighters, you can be conditioned to accept a lot of shit you had no idea was even bad. Take care of yourself first. Don't self sacrifice out of love.

Here is the golden rule to know if your instincts are right about friends or famIly. If you can't safely unmask around them, or don't feel safe unmasking around them for reasons other than past abuse, don't fucking trust that person more than you can throw them. I'm so serious right now. I'm well past halfway through my life expectancy now and this rule hasn't been wrong even once.

If this advise can protect even one of you then I will considered it an acceptable trade. I want you all to live better than I did. Had I known then what I do now my life would have gone very differently. I should have left my damn mask on and kept going forward.

And whatever they've done to you, don't kill yourself. Dont give then the satisfaction. Die with honor and meaning if you must die. But don't you dare go quietly. Every day you survive this world gives you a chance to make it better off than how it started. Protect others from what you've been through. We go forward together across broken glass and blood at tears if we must. But we go forward.

If you have absolutely no one, then know you got this random faceless internet stranger crying as she types this. I love you. And I will never stop fighting for you.

a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints

[misctf]

For the Team: A Real Man

“I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle the team.” Brett slammed his locker shut and turned to face his coach, “We’re trying out best.” The locker room fell silent. No one talked back to coach.

Coach Andrews glared at Brett, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You think you know better than me, boy?” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the locker room walls. “I've been coaching football for decades, and you're just some punk kid who thinks he knows it all.”

“With all due respect, Coach, your behavior towards us is unacceptable.” he replies firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “We're here to improve our skills, not be belittled and humiliated.”

The other players watched in silence, unsure how their coach would react to their star quarterback’s bold challenge. Coach Andrews' face turned an alarming shade of red, and he took a menacing step closer to Brett.

“You think you're so special, huh?” Coach Andrews sneered, his hot breath washing over Brett's face. “Brett, you don't understand a damn thing.” He chuckled, “Throwing a ball well doesn’t make you a leader.”

“I'm just telling it like it is.” Brett snapped back, “Why would we want to dedicate ourselves to this team if you’re treating us like shit during a regular practice?”

The other men remained quiet. No one knew what to say, but they watched closely. Brett was always their leader. Sticking up for them. And while they mostly agreed with him, they weren't about to face coach's wrath.

“You wouldn't know true leadership, dedication, or what it means to be a man if it bit you in the ass.” Coach Andrews replied, crossing his large, hairy arms, “Let me show you, boy. Let me show everyone here.” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. With a swift motion, he reached out and grasped Brett's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.

Brett tried to pull away, but the coach's grip was unyielding. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the coarse hairs on Coach Andrews' palm brush against his smooth skin, “First and foremost, these arms. You think these toned, well-groomed arms make you a man?”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands began to glow with an eerie light. And he dug his hands into Brett's impressive arms. Brett gasped as he felt the coach's fingers making contact with his skin. Brett's eyes widened in shock as he felt the coach's glowing fingers sink into his muscles. A tingling sensation spread through his arms as they began to shift and contort. The definition in his biceps softened, the veins disappearing beneath a layer of new flesh. His forearms thickened, growing hairier as dark brown locks sprouted from his skin.

“Wha...what's happening?” Brett managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. He tried to move his transforming arms, but they felt heavy, cumbersome. Bulking with both muscle and fat. The skin becoming tanned and weathered with age, “Coach, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Real men have substance, not just flash.” Brett gasped as coarse, dark hairs sprouted from his shoulders and traveled down his back.

As the coach's hands moved over Brett's chest, the young athlete felt his pecs begin to expand and contort. The lean, defined muscle mass that had once been there gave way to a softer, more rounded contour, reminiscent of Coach Andrews' own mature physique. Darker, coarser hair erupted across the changing skin, until Brett's chest was covered in a thick mat of brown fuzz, mirroring the coach's own hirsute appearance.

“What...” Brett whimpered, horror dawning in his eyes as his previously firm pecs sagged, “I...” He looked at his teammates- his friends. All just stared wide eyed, unsure what to do, “Please! Stop...”

“Keep quiet and take it like a man.” Coach Andrews commanded gruffly, squeezing Brett's newly enlarged, hairy pecs, “Maybe then you'll understand the importance of discipline and hard work, right boy?”

“I’m no boy! I’m a fuckin’ man!” Brett's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, while Coach Andrews just grinned, “No, why did I...?” Brett tried to understand where that outburst came from.

Coach Andrews leaned in close, his breath hot against Brett's ear as he whispered, “Because deep down, you crave the power and control that comes with being an alpha male. Your body is responding to its primal urges, even if your mind resists.”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands continued their work, sliding down Brett's torso to grasp his hips. Brett felt a strange heat emanating from the coach's palms, seeping into his skin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his abs started to shift.

Coach Andrews grinned, seeming to relish Brett's distress. “That's it, boy. Let it happen.” he purred, his hands sliding across Brett’s firm torso, “Feel the power surging through you. It's what separates the men from the boys.” Wiry hairs sprouted from Brett’s abdomen as coach’s hands made their way down. Each strand growing thicker and curlier.

“No...no, please!”

The young athlete tensed, expecting another painful alteration, but instead felt his stomach muscles relax and soften. The six-pack that had once been so prominent began to fade, replaced by a rounder, flabbier midsection. Still, Brett could appreciate the muscle behind the soft, hairy flesh. Brett's face contorted in anguish as he watched his own body take on a different form. 

“Don’t you want to be a real man?” Coach Andrews goaded, “Like me?” He emphasized.

Brett's gaze dropped to his reflection, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of himself. Gone were the chiseled features and athletic build he'd once possessed. In their place was a heavier, more imposing figure, with a rounded belly and broad, muscular shoulders. Thick, dark hair now covered every inch of exposed skin, from his chest to his arms to his back.

“I...I look like you.” Brett whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and awe. He couldn't deny the raw power radiating from his new form, the sense of strength and dominance that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Coach Andrews nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? This is what it means to be a real man. Not some hairless pretty boy. You’re learning what it means to be a real man. To be me.” Coach Andrews replied, admiring his work so far.

With a firm squeeze, Coach's fingers made contact with Brett's pert ass. The skin rippled and shifted, the muscle mass shifting as it grew and filled with fat. The lean, chiseled curves of his rear gave way to a broader, heavier set of cheeks, now covered in a thick, wiry mat of dark hair. The muscles softened, turning to pliant flesh that jiggled slightly with each movement. Brett winced as the process extended to his thighs, the lean, toned flesh giving way to a heavier, more bulked-out build, marred by jiggly fat.

“But I don’t want to be like you!” The transforming quarterback insisted, shifting uncomfortably as a forest of dense hairs sprouted from his new legs, “It's too much...I can't...” 

Yet, even as he spoke, he found himself admiring the new contours of his body in the mirror. The heavy, hair-covered muscles seemed to throb with power, drawing his gaze like a magnet. Coach Andrews noticed the change in Brett's demeanor and smirked knowingly. 

“You're starting to come around, aren't you boy? Admitting that maybe I know what I'm talking about after all?”

Brett swallowed hard, his mind reeling as he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Part of him still longed for his old, lean physique, but another part - a darker, more primal part - reveled in the sheer masculinity of his new form. 

“N-no, I don't...I mean, yes, I guess.”

Coach Andrews simply smirked as he ran his hands through Brett’s hair, “That's it, boy. Embrace your new reality. You're no longer just a pretty face and a strong arm. You're a force to be reckoned with.”  

As the coach's glowing fingers massaged the quarterback’s scalp, his proud locks began to fall away. Brett could only watch as his styled hair fell in front of his face. Each lock making their way to the locker room floor. Finally, coach let go and Brett shivered at the cool sensation of the air on his bald head.

“N-no, I won't...” Brett protested weakly, but his voice lacked conviction, “This isn't me. I'm not...I can't be...”

But Coach Andrews shook his head and brushed his glowing hand against Brett's cheeks. Immediately, the youthful contours began to blur and shift. His angular jawline softened, rounding into a squarer, more weathered shape. All of which was quickly covered in a beautifully thick, manly beard. His high cheekbones receded slightly, and his nose lost its sharpness, taking on a more bulbous, fleshy appearance. Even his eyes seemed to alter, losing their bright, eager sparkle in favor of a duller, more world-weary gaze.

“All done.” Coach Andrews grinned, “You’re perfect. A true man.”

Brett stared at his reflection, his eyes turning to Coach Andrews. And in that moment, he realized- they were the same, down to the last strand of hair on their chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own resistance was crumbling, swept away by an unfamiliar surge of masculine pride and dominance.

"Brett!" One of his teammates called out, "Don't...!"

"Shut it, Johnson!" Brett growled, his voice low and gravelly- the same as Coach Andrews'. His former friend took a step back, clearly intimidated by the transformation in their usually affable leader.

Inside, however, Brett was reeling. How could he have spoken to his friend like that? He'd always prided himself on his kind heart and good judgment. Now, well now...

Coach Andrews placed a meaty hand on Brett's shoulder, “Now you're learning, son. Don't let weakness cloud your judgement. A real man stands tall and asserts his authority without apology.”

Brett nodded slowly, his expression hardening into a mask of stoic determination. He could feel the change coursing through him, reshaping his very essence.  

“I needed a little help coaching you pathetic excuses.” Coach Andrews says turning to his team, “And who better to assist me than me? Right, Coach Andrews?” He says, looking over at Brett.

Brett stared blankly at his reflection, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of the transformation. The man staring back at him was no longer the person he once was - not even remotely. Every fiber of his being had been rewoven into the image of Coach Andrews, right down to his thoughts and desires.

“I am Coach Andrews.” he muttered, the words feeling foreign yet comforting, “My team needs discipline. I'll whip them into shape, no matter the cost.” He turned to face his stunned teammates, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down their spines, “Listen up, boys. From now on, I expect nothing less than perfection on the field. Any slacking off will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Brett's teammates cowered under his intense glare, nodding quickly in fearful agreement, “Yes, Bre... er, Coach Andrews” one of them stuttered.

Brett/Coach Andrews sneered at their subservience, his chest puffing out with pride, “Good. Now get out of my sight and report to the practice field immediately. We have a lot of work to do to turn you into the champions I know you can be.”

Both coaches watched as their team scrambled to obey the orders, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them. Coach Andrews could only grin at the sight of the new coach- his twin- a specimen of true masculinity. And without another word, together, the two Coach Andrews stepped out onto the practice field, ready to unleash their unique brand of discipline upon their team.

[loveislarryislove]

Fandom Trumps Hate 2025 is coming!

Fandom Trumps Hate is ramping up for its ninth year, and I'm hoping you'll join me in participating! Over the next couple of weeks I'm going to be posting about this event, different ways to be involved, and keeping you apprised of important dates as they arrive. To start -- a quick FAQ!

What is Fandom Trumps Hate?

Fandom Trumps Hate (or FTH for short) is a massive cross-fandom auction of fanworks for charity. Contributors sign up to offer a digital (or sometimes physical!) creation, and bidders agree to donate an amount to selected charitable organizations. Over the past 8 years, they (and the hundreds of creators and bidders who have participated) have raised over $300,000 for dozens of organizations doing important work in fields including LGBTQ+ rights, housing insecurity, voting advocacy, racial inequality, environmental issues, and more.

What kinds of things can be in the auction?

Anything you can imagine and create! Most of the auctions are digital content, but there is also the Craft Bazaar for physical items. And even within the digital offerings, there's a ton of variety -- fanfics are one of the more popular, but there's also fanart, fan labor (such as beta-ing, region-picking or expertise-picking, coding, etc.), podfics, music, gifmaking, and more!

What are the key dates I should know about?

Creator signups are from Monday, January 20th to Sunday, February 2nd

On Friday, February 21st, the auctions will all be posted for bidders to peruse before the bidding period

Auction bidding is from Tuesday, February 25th at 8am EST to Saturday, March 1st at 8pm EST

Is auctioning off fanworks even legal?

I mean, technically everything in fanwork is a bit of a legal grey area, loosely protected by fair use. The key here is that the creators are not "selling" fanworks, nor are bidders "commissioning" the fanworks -- no money ever goes from bidder to creator, only from bidder to charitable organization. Instead, these fanworks are gifts to thank the bidders for their donation.

I have another question?

I'll be making a few more posts with more information, but please feel free to drop me an ask or slide into my DMs, and I'll help as best I can! You can also check out the @fandomtrumpshate tumblr for more information, or reach out to them via email at fandomtrumpshate@gmail.com.

[transfemme-shelterdog]

I genuinely thought my wife would remain the only trans woman i have ever met who dont think trans men are being insufferable brats when we attempt to talk about how we're treated for being the "dirty icky yucky oppressor" gender by other queer people and seen as a wannabe half-breed by cis people. im really, indescribably happy i've met another one. I cant thank you enough for talking about trans men and our struggles and not treating us all like some horrible insane collective of crybabies. thank you so much. thank you so so so fucking much. i know you get dozens of these but i am typing this through tears in my eyes. Thank you.

I want to add: I'm black. I cant articulate it well, but watching (mostly) white women parade around how much they're entitled to hate hate hate queer men and how we could never ever ever be socially ostracized/oppressed for our identities makes me scared when i know about who Emmett Till was. That mentality still exists within cis white women and it makes me TERRIFIED to interact with them. White women do have a sort of social power over black men and it is fucking terrifying to be exposed to IRL. Seeing white trans women latch onto that exact same power and ferociously defend their right to do so puts a level of fear and hurt in me that i also cant describe very well. I hope that makes sense, because i have experienced this dynamic with white women personally.

Hey man, glad you reached out to me, and thank you for sharing your experiences with me. As a trans white woman, I'm inclined to agree that it's mainly white women/transfems who are pulling this shit. It's really concerning seeing not only my fellow queer women, but also white people completely ignoring the oppression that trans men (especially POC) face globally. Like, in the US there's the upcoming administration that's gonna ban birth control, the loss of abortion rights already, and the bathroom/sports bills that affect all trans people, not to mention corrective rape in the Southern states. Then in other countries there's FGM and more corrective rape.

We should be working together, not pushing each other down to see who has it "worse", because we all face oppression in different ways.

I can only hope that we come together at some point, else we are truly fucked.

[not-poignant]

Agreeing that there's a range, but also if you've ever gone somewhere important, or culturally significant, or to a national park in your area, you are also practicing tourism! You are not immune from being a tourist in your own locality! You are not immune from other locals wanting to hunt you for sport!

This is something I've noticed in Australia. In that moment when me, a bunch of Australians who have never been to Western Australia, and a bunch of tourists who have never been to Australia, all converge on the same cultural interest because it's being advertised (as a tourism event), in that moment, we are all tourists, and I am having elements of a similar experience to everyone there. I do not have any more or less of a right to be there. (Especially because I'm a white Australian, which is a whole thing).

I wish one of the answers was: 'I recognise that I can be a tourist even in my own country too.'

Tourism is literally just travel for pleasure. If you go to a botanical festival in your own town to have a good day, along with all the other folks out of state, from other countries etc., you're still just practicing tourism, and you're contributing to local tourism. Maybe you have feelings about how people should do it "properly" or "correctly" or recognise when foreigners don't (and possibly have no way to) understand local etiquette, but, yeah, you're just one of them.

[ptergwen]

hi ! i had a dream like this so idk if its too specific or anything hut could u write a fluff/angst about reader being in a beach holiday with family/peter, theyre at the beach swimming and being all cute underwater and stuff- peter tries to hold/grab reader and accidentally hurts them bc of his super strength. theyre mad at him for a bit but they make up that night with heaps of fluff, cuddles, words of affirmation-ect. sorry if thats dumb fhdgdgf thank youuu <33

a boy who's jacked and kind

w/c: tba

warnings: a very sorry and sad peter, like two swears

a/n: peep the sabrina reference hehe i had a lot of fun with this one! decided to make it a beach day with friends, i hope that's okay & you enjoy <3

"marco!"

"polo!"

you and your friends scatter around the ocean while peter tries to catch you. you're at the beach for the day, which is exciting because you don't get to go often living in the city. peter pushes through the water with his eyes closed, hands outstretched in front of him. if he catches one of you, he wins.

"marco!"

peter is getting closer to you and ned. mj is the farthest away, deeper into the ocean. she silently signals for the two of you to swim towards her.

"polo!"

you all shout in unison. ned wades through the water frantically, mj continuing to swim in the opposite direction. you're not as quick to pick up on her guidance. you won't be able to make it to the two of them without peter catching you, so you keep swimming the other way.

"marco!"

"polo!"

ned and mj sound kind of far, but you seem to be close. peter follows your voice with a smirk, eyes still squeezed shut.

"marco!"

you can hear peter getting close from behind you.

"polo!"

you look behind your shoulder to see peter nearing you.

"go, y/n!" mj shouts. "run!" ned echoes.

"marco!"

you can't help but let out a giggle as peter gets closer and closer. you leave the water and start running on the wet sand, your boyfriend right on your trail.

"polo!"

peter tackles you from behind, pushing you down and landing beside you. you squeal and land in the sand, hard. it knocks the wind out of you. peter laughs softly and rolls on top of you.

"i win."

your lip quivers a bit, tears pricking your eyes reflexively from the pain of the fall. peter's cocky demeanor instantly changes, going into concerned boyfriend mode.

"baby, what's wrong?"

he catches a stray tear with his thumb, his lips forming a frown.

"why're you crying?"

peter's thumb caresses your cheek. you shoo his hand away.

"i’m not, that just fuckin' hurt. can you get off me?"

peter rolls off of you, watching you get to your feet with furrowed brows.

"oh no, baby, i'm sorry. i just got caught up in the game... i didn't realize how hard i pushed you."

"you have super strength, peter."

you brush the sand off yourself, sniffing back a mixture of salt water and snot. peter's voice quiets.

"sometimes i forget."

"yeah, i know. it's fine."

"but i feel bad." peter stands up. "are you okay?"

he reaches for your hand. you shrug and pull it away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'm fine, pete. just gimme a little while."

mj and ned meet you and peter on the sand. they form a circle with you, peter staying back. his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with worry.

"what happened, you let penis parker win? i thought we had a plan," mj jokes. "yeah, why'd you go rogue? we were supposed to stick together," ned agrees.

"i went the other way 'cause i wasn't gonna get to you guys fast enough, then peter tackled me."

their gazes shift over to peter, who sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"dude!" ned punches peter's shoulder playfully. "major foul."

"it was an accident," peter mumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

"sure it was," mj deadpans.

peter is looking at you again, but you avoid looking at him. mj picks up on the tension between the two of you.

"hey, you good?"

"i'm kinda annoyed at peter. it hurt when he pushed me. i know he didn't mean to, but still, you know?"

"what a dumbass. come on, let's go get ice creams or something."

you give mj a half smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders. mj flips peter off as you two pass by him. ned starts yapping to peter about building the perfect sandcastle, but he doesn't listen. he's too distracted by his guilt over hurting you.

-

you're sleeping over at peter's later that night. you'd gotten back from the beach a little while ago, and nothing sounds better than cuddling up in bed with him. he had been trying to give you space since the tackling incident, careful not to be too touchy out of fear of hurting you again.

you feel bad for being kind of cold to him. even though you were upset in the moment, you got over it. you miss him being his usual touchy self. it's peter who's been choosing to distance himself.

peter lets you shower first, then he takes one. he finds you waiting on his bed after. you're wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of boxers.

"c'mere, i wanna cuddle."

"you sure?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?"

"i just wanna make sure you have enough space. y'know, after earlier."

you groan.

"i’m serious, y/n. i hate that i hurt you."

"peter," you stand up.

"and i’m sorry. really, really sorry. i’m never gonna let anything like that happen ever again, okay? i wasn't thinking."

"i know, peter. accident's happen, baby."

your arms circle around peter's shirtless torso. he doesn't trust himself to hold you just yet, so he keeps his arms at his sides.

"just because it was an accident doesn't make it okay."

you take peter's arms yourself and wrap them around you. his doe eyes meet yours. you hold his gaze reassuringly, an arm around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek.

"i like that you have super strength."

"you do?"

"yeah. it makes me feel safe, knowing you can always protect me. plus, you've got big arms. that's hot."

peter chuckles, perking up at that.

"sometimes you can't help how strong you are. i get it, pete. it's not your fault."

you nudge peter's nose with yours. peter moves in closer to you, letting out a sigh of relief. he kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment.

"thank you. i love you."

"i love you, too."

you leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"sorry i was kinda mean to you earlier. it was just my first reaction."

"no, no. it's okay, baby. i’m the only one who should be sorry."

"stop apologizing. you don't have to be sorry anymore."

"but i am. i’m still really sorry i-"

you shove at peter's chest, making him fall backwards onto the bed, mimicking the way he tackled you earlier. you straddle his lap and take his face in your hands, giggling. peter carefully holds you on top of him by your sides. you lean forward so you're face to face.

"i forgive you."

you connect yours and peter's lips. he happily kisses you back, smiling into it.

tags (old taglist y'all sorry, gotta make a new form!):

@idkeverythingistakennn @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @mystic-writings @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @elllebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @winchestersgirl222 @sunf1ower-vol6 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @marvelgurl @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @sapphic_romanoff @itsjanedeluca @lomlbuckyy @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana

[foone]

Annoying edge case for lycanthropy: a dragon who is also a werewolf.

(A short story I wrote back in 2022 for twitter. I've slightly re-edited it, but it's still "twittery" in how it uses linebreaks (because there used to be post-boundaries there). Sorry! )

So on the full moon, they uncontrollably turn into… A much smaller and squishier humanoid. They can't wait to get their scales and fire breath and wingspan back. They're so vulnerable in their werewolf form!

No one at the werewolf support meetings is sympathetic.

They're all humans or nearly, so one of them is like "it's just so scary. I'm huge, and inhuman, and I feel like I'm made of weapons, with my claws. Everyone fears me, and I fear myself sometimes, never knowing what I might do, if I lose control and just let the rage out…" And the werewolf-dragon is like "and then you turn into a werewolf! It's so annoying, I agree"

Everyone else just turns to look at them, slowly

They do take some tips about werewolf safety. They just do it backwards, because instead of making sure they can't get out and cause death and destruction, it's more about making sure no one can get in and attack them in their merely nigh-invulnerable werewolf form. When you're a dragon, turning into a nearly unkillable rage monster of claws and fangs is a major downgrade. It's a real moment of weakness, and who knows if your ancient enemies or some upstart knight is going to try to take advantage of that moment of weakness?

They get infinitely more annoyed when they finally find a witch who can do the right ceremony and lift the curse of lycanthropy. "there… With the burning of this silver candle, you are finally free. You're human in all moonphases, now." "WAIT A FUCKING SECOND, HUMAN?!"

They got turned into the humanized version of their werewolf form. Permanently.

Always read the fine print before asking a witch to do a complicated magical ritual on you.

"also, question: how the hell did you burn a silver candle? Isn't the melting point of silver…" "one thousand eight hundred degrees, yes. It wasn't easy. Look. "

She pulls back a curtain and points. There's a complicated bellows system being vigorously pumped by a bunch of little black cats, each wearing a tiny witch's hat. They're sweating with exertion and the heat.

"we're done, my lovelies. You can stop now" The kitties hop down off the bellows and lie down at her feet, or wander off looking for food. The witch looks down at the former dragon, now barely 5 feet tall. "why do you think I asked for my fee in cat food?"

"but it was ALL cat food. Don't you need to-" The former dragon pauses mid-sentence, as the witch pulls off her traditional witchy headwear to reveal two pointy feline ears. "you were saying?"

"nevermind. Thanks, I guess." The dragon walks to the door, then turns around. "hey, I need to find out how to be a human, would you happen to know anything or anyone I can ask?" The witch looks up from sitting on the floor with a leg behind her head, licking the inside of her thigh "wouldn't have a clue, sorry love", she says with a smile.

The witch has to show up later and bail the former dragon out of jail. Apparently they accosted a city guard after being told "you can't just wander around the city naked". The dragon told them to contact the catwitch because it's not like they know any other humanoids.

The guard wasn't physically hurt, but getting jumped by a small naked human after merely pointing out you need to wear trousers or a dress or something in public is the kind of thing that leaves mental scars that'll take a while to fade.

Even if your tiny nude opponent was mainly trying to scratch or bite you with claws or fangs they no longer have

The former dragon ends up living with the catwitch. She could use some help with the bellows, and even if the dragon can no longer provide her own fire, they still know a lot about it.

And even if they're now a short little weakling who has to be reminded to wear clothes, they are a bit better at pumping the bellows than a pack of kittens.

Plus they can help with making potions and such in ways the cats can't, what with having thumbs.

They live together for a while, until the grumpy now-human finds out that another dragon has taken up residence in their former hoard.

And that will just not do!

So the dragon convinces the catwitch to come with them on an adventure to raid their own hoard and defeat (or at least evict) the dragon.

So they set out, the former dragon having to figure out the weaknesses in their own defenses and how to navigate a space built for dragons, not tiny humanoids. They're wearing the minimum in clothing they can get away with, and wielding a sword almost bigger than they are.

And following, the catwitch with a broom and a big sack of magical devices and reagents, and a little procession of kittens in their hats.

(the former dragon uses they/them pronouns. Their human body does have a sex, but when gender was explained to them they called it a "foolish human thing" and never bothered with it, just like their opinions on silverware and public indecency laws)

As far as anyone can tell, dragons have only one gender, and it's dragon.

Anyone who has asked further questions about dragon gender, sex, or reproduction has ended up crispy and good with ketchup.

They manage to evict the squatting dragon, and the witch is like "well, I guess you got nearly everything you want now. I'll take my cats back to the city…" And the ex-dragon is like "WAIT… I was thinking, maybe you could… Use my hoard as a new shop? There's plenty of room"

"are you asking me to stay?" "n-no… I mean, yes? Shut up. It's just because it would be a good place for you. After all, your shop has that leaky roof, and you were running out of storage space, and the mayor always wanted you kicked out…"

"oh I see, so it's just for me? How kind. You don't care either way, right?" "right! I don't care! I don't need or want you around! I don't care about silly human things" "human?" she asks with a smile, wiggling her ears on the top of her head. "shut up you know what I mean"

"so you don't want me to stay around you? You don't have a reason why you want to be near me, to be with me?" she says "with" with a certain slant on it, as she rests her arm on the shoulder of the former dragon, having to lean over her to reach. "n-n-n…"

The witch switches to cupping the former dragon's face in her palms. "and your face is so warm, little one. Are you trying to breathe fire? You're turning red, so maybe you are…"

"stop it! I… I just…" "yes?" the witch lets go, but her tail curls around the waist of the former dragon, like they are walking hand in hand down a beach.

"I like you, alright? I want you to stay. I want to be with you! Is that so wrong?"

"nope!" says the witch, happily pulling them into a kiss.

We zoom out, past a pile of gold coins and goblets and scepters, as little black kittens in adorable hats play in the hoard, ambushing each other in play-fights from the high ground of a treasure chest.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Riddle Rosehearts - Nightmare Suit Vignette

"Absolutely against the rules!"

[Halloween Town – Alleyway]

Riddle: We lost so much time because of that unexpected mishap. We should finish up the Halloween preparations as quickly as possible.

Jamil: Right. We should begin by checking out how the rest of the town is doing.

Riddle: I agree. While Halloween Town was mired in all that confusion, some other issues may have cropped up.

[Halloween Town – Town Hall]

Riddle: Jamil, take a look at that. The candy that we prepared ahead of time seems to have decreased in number since we last looked…

Jamil: You're right. There should have been overflowing mounds of candy in three baskets. But now, I only see one.

Riddle: Someone may have unintentionally moved it, or some ill-advised malcontent may have stolen it…

Jamil: ――Hm? I feel like I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye…

Riddle: THERE! YOU WON'T ESCAPE ME!!

[chair slams against door]

???: Waah! What's with this chair!?

???: Why'd it just appear in front of us out of nowhere?

Jamil: I see, you used your magic to move the chair to block the exit. Good thinking.

Shock: We can't leave 'cause this chair's in the way!

Shock: It's all 'cause you two were so slow in carrying the candy. You blockheads!

Barrel: I'm not the blockhead, he is.

Lock: She's talking about you!

Riddle: Oh, it's you guys… The troublemaker trio.

Lock/Shock/Barrel: URK!!!

Jamil: There's candy spilling out from the bag they're dragging. They're for sure our culprits.

Riddle: Good thing we captured them before they made off with the candy. There's no place for you three to run now.

Shock: You're so mean, cutting us off from the exit when we're trying to leave!

Riddle: Mean? You seem to be mistaking me for yourselves.

Riddle: No single person can claim all the candy for themselves. It is an unforgivable act to steal it.

Riddle: And just after causing all that chaos in town… Have the three of you not reflected on your actions at all?

Lock: C'mon, we ran around so much earlier that we're so hungry, though.

Shock: Plus, this is the first time we've seen candy like the ones you guys made, and it look suuuper yummy.

Barrel: There's no way we can wait until Halloween to eat 'em.

Lock/Shock/Barrel: [chomp, chomp] … See, it's sooo good.

Riddle: Wha… How dare you add to your crimes by eating the candy mid-testimony! Absolutely barbaric!

Jamil: They keep doing whatever they want, as if they're not to blame for any of the problems we faced in town earlier… Honestly, I can't help but be a little impressed.

Riddle: If we just leave them be, they may cause another problem sooner or later, so if I'd rather it be off with their heads…

Lock: Huh? Off with whose head?

Barrel: Probably Jack's. 'Cause he can take off his head, can't he?

Shock: Sounds awesome! I thought this guy was just a nagging bore, but he can say some fun stuff, too!

Lock/Shock/Barrel: Let's go! Let's go right now! Let's go take off Jack's head!

Riddle: Silence!! You three misunderstand me. When I say "off with their head," I am not speaking literally.

Lock: Eh, really?

Shock: Boooring, I thought it was gonna be something fun.

Riddle: Sigh… I feel a headache coming along just being around you three.

Jamil: Not only do they not show any signs of remorse, they immediately leap at the chance to start something new… They are completely out of our control.

Riddle: However, if we were to leave these children to their own devices, they may interfere with the Halloween preparations again.

Riddle: If that's the case… Jamil, the two of us should keep an eye on these three.

Riddle: And as the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, I shall ingrain into the children proper discipline!

Jamil: It's fine and dandy that you're raring to go, but you didn't need to drag me into this without asking…

Riddle: Did you say something just now, Jamil?

Jamil: …No, nothing at all.

Riddle: Well, then… Ahem! See here, you three. Listen to me well.

Riddle: From here on out, you will not run around as you please, but will accompany us. Understand?

Lock: Ehhhh! Why'd we have to be with you guys?

Riddle: That is because you all keep breaking the rules.

Riddle: In essence, this is the result of all your mischief. …Now, how do you respond?

Shock: I don't really get it, but whatever! We were bored, anyway, so we can stick with you for a tiiiny bit.

Riddle: Good! Then first, return all the candy you stole back onto the table. As soon as that's done, we'll go survey how the rest of the town is doing.

[Halloween Town – Gate]

Riddle: The first stop is the gate to confirm the state of their decorations… And already it seems that we've found the bats they have decorating it with are crooked.

Riddle: As of this moment, they are at about 160° from the ground. However, they should be kept at 180° parallel to the ground.

Jamil: You really have an eye for the smallest detail. I don't know if I should say it's too much, or what…

Riddle: I will not permit any carelessness that could ruin the perfect Halloween. Besides, adjusting the angle is easily fixed with a quick spell…

Lock: Huh? You want to fix the crooked decorations on the gate?

Shock: Then we can fix it for you… With this ball!

Shock: Hyah!

[throws ball]

Riddle: Ack!? That almost hit me! Why would you ever think to fix something like that by hitting it with a ball!?

Barrel: 'Cause we can't reach the decorations ourselves.

Jamil: Then, you should use a stool or a ladder…

Lock: We thought it'd be faster if we used a ball.

Riddle: Hmm… It seems it will be more difficult than I thought to teach these kids proper discipline.

Riddle: Listen up, you three. You shouldn't throw a ball towards where other people are.

Lock/Shock/Barrel: WHY???

Riddle: Because if it hits someone, it could injure them. It's dangerous.

Shock: But balls are for throwing, though?

Riddle: ...I see, so that's the hang up. If that's the case, we may need to begin with re-learning the definition of a ball.

Riddle: I shall start your lesson with what a ball is, and it's origins. There are many theories as to where it was originated, but at first…

Jamil: YOU'RE STARTING THE LESSON FROM THERE!?

Riddle: …And that is why you should not throw balls. Did you understand all that?

Lock/Shock/Barrel: Yup, totally!

Jamil: Liars, none of you were listening at all!

Riddle: Whether they understood the lesson or not will be apparent with how they conduct themselves from now on.

Riddle: We've finished with confirming the decoration progress. Next, we'll look in on the music…

[scamper, scamper]

Jamil: Big problem, Riddle! Those three are already gone!

Riddle: What!? We only took our eyes off of them for a second… We need to hurry and find them!

Shock: MOVE OUTTA THE WAY! YOU'RE STANDIN' IN THE WAY!!

Jamil: Hm? I hear their voices from behind… WAAH!!

[thud]

Riddle: A bathtub with legs just crashed into Jamil!? Are you alright, Jamil? Any injuries?

Jamil: …I'm fine, it's nothing.

Lock: Seeee, this all happened 'cause you're just standing there all spaced out.

Barrel: Lame-o～

Jamil: Krgh! It's obviously their fault, but they have the nerve to speak like that.

Riddle: What do you three think you're doing, now!?

Shock: What do you mean, what we're thinkin'? We were tired of walking, so we brought something to make it easier to move around.

Lock/Barrel: Yeah, it's our favorite ride!

Riddle: That may be so, but you should take care not to bump into anyone.

Shock: That's why we shouted to move out the way.

Lock: Or are you sayin' Jamil owns this road?

Barrel: You sayin' we're not allowed to use this road or somethin'?

Riddle: Well, no…

Lock/Shock/Barrel: THEN EVERYTHING'S FINE!!

Riddle: EVERYTHING IS NOT FINE!!!

Jamil: Those three don't feel any remorse at all, huh… They're so blatant that it's actually refreshing to deal with.

Riddle: Similar to the ball incident earlier, any actions that may bring harm to anyone else is absolutely against the rules!

Riddle: Furthermore, a bathtub is not something to ride in and use as a mode of transportation.

Shock: Eh, but a bathtub is totally something to ride in.

Lock/Barrel: Yeah, it's our ride!

Riddle: …What? How exactly are bathtubs utilized in this town?

Shock: So, you see, basically…

Riddle: Mhm… Mhm… I see.

Riddle: Which all goes to say that this town approves of bathtubs as transportation?

Shock: Right-o, Riddle. If it wasn't, we totally wouldn't ride in it.

Riddle: I see… My apologies, I was in the wrong on my understanding of bathtubs here. I take it back, you may ride it!!

Jamil: THEY CAN!?!?

Lock/Shock/Barrel: YAY!!!

Lock: Seee, you totally get it.

Riddle: However, you are to ride it with care so as to not injure others. And you are to apologize to Jamil.

Lock/Shock/Barrel: 'Kaaaay. Soooorry, Jamil.

Riddle: Good apology, you three.

Lock: Right, right? We did good!

Jamil: He's just letting them off with that half-done apology…? They don't look like they're sorry at all!!

Shock: Riddle! I totally thought you were just gonna yap at us non-stop, but you're actually a good guy who totally gets us.

Shock: We like you! Join our crew and play with us!

Barrel: Here, we'll even let you in our bathtub, our treat.

Riddle: Eh? No, I'll pass on―

Shock: Let's go, you two! Push Riddle into the bathtub!

Lock/Shock/Barrel: HEAAAAAVE… HO!!!

Riddle: Waaah!!!

Lock/Shock/Barrel: Nyahahahehehe! He's in, he's in! Riddle's riding in the bathtub!

Jamil: Hey, Riddle! You alright!?

Riddle: …Yes, although that shocked me slightly, I am fine.

Riddle: Actually, this bathtub isn't that uncomfortable, either.

Shock: Well, yeah, this bathtub's our pride and joy!

Riddle: I see… From my brief time with you three, I see that you have your own rules you abide by.

Riddle: I suppose I was a little too strict on you. For me to teach you all discipline, I would first need to know more about this town.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[signanothername]

I do agree with it being a genuine issue that people can't fathom relationships that aren't romantic or sexual but as equally devoted to each as those ones.

It's an issue in fandom and also in real life.

I'm very very close with my best friend and I have the same level of devotion towards them as one would a romantic partner. I'd buy a house with them or raise a kid, stuff like that. But we aren't romantically/sexually involved with each other and don't ever want to be.

Also because we are physically affectionate with each other people are always asking if we are having sex or if we are dating or when are we going to date.

It's aggravating because somehow our commitment for each other is viewed as lesser because we aren't doing all that.

I do think it's how we are socialized as we are growing up that makes this an issue.

(Excuse me while I stand on my soap box about platonic physical affection) People like to forget that we are a species that not only craves physical affection but we also Need it to some degree to be healthy, like human babies will straight up perish if they aren't held enough. We don't exactly grow out of that.

(This is, of course, excluding people who don't want to be touched and such. Works the same way as a healthy food, tho it's good for you not everyone is gonna like that food or eat it.)

OH ABSOLUTELY

Unfortunately, the social norm is that romance/sex is superior by default (which is absolute bullshit), all sorts of love are of the same importance, whether romantic or platonic

I think it also comes with the lack of understanding that we have different social needs, for example, I personally can’t even understand the concept of crushes at all, (like wait, people getting romantic feelings for someone they don’t know is real?????? Love at first sight isn’t a bullshit movie thing and people actually fall in love at first sight?????)

My understanding doesn’t matter as much as my behavior does, just because I don’t understand how someone can fall in love with another person who they don’t know doesn’t mean I’ll go and tell someone with a crush that their love is invalid just because I don’t understand it personally

People on the other hand, are very comfortable telling people who aren’t romantically involved to “get on with it” or to ask invasive questions such as “when are you going to date” cause they lack the understanding that people can be just as devoted platonically as people who are devoted romantically

The difference was never the devotion, it’s just the type of love you share, and how you share it

As for physical affection, you’re absolutely right, we are social species by default but with different social needs, some people need physical affection to function, others don’t, some only need it at certain times in certain circumstances and so on

These differences between us is what makes us human, but alas, the majority think that their norm must be the norm for everyone else

Anyway, it’s so sweet to know you have your best friend, hope you guys live long happy lives, take care of yourselves, your love is just as valid and true <333333

[staryscorner]

My savior

Didn't reread this so it might have some errors ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Paring: The Salesman x Female Reader

It was a tiring day after working one of your many jobs but after your current shift you would have to run out immediately to catch the last train. You ran and yelled at someone to not let the doors close but it was too late the train had left and there you were alone at the platform with another man sitting on a bench. He called you over.

“Would you like to play a game?” He said with a cheeky smirk

“I'm sorry but I have to get to work or else I'll probably get fired.” You said in a panicked tone 

“But what if you could with 100,000 Won just by beating me at ddakji” still smiling at you

You thought about it for a while…that was way more than what you would make in a night and you then agreed to play his game. 

“I'll pay you for every time that you beat me but if I win you would have to pay me the same amount”

You were not expecting him to say that.

“Um sir i'm sorry but I don't have that kind of money” you said in a sheepish tone.

“Well there is another way you could pay me” He said grinning from ear to ear

“H-how?” you said trying to keep your composure 

“I'll show you once we played the first round”

After playing the first round and losing miserably he looked at you and not even hesitating he lifted his hand and slapped you…

You stood there putting your hand where he had slapped you feeling the sting and almost wanting to cry but you still decided to play. You needed that money… you needed to have your child back. 

After what felt like an eternity you had finally won you could feel like tears were going to fall from your eyes. He opened his briefcase and you saw that it was stacked with cash. You really wanted to continue but you knew you had to get home so you could get at least some sleep before your next job in the morning. You thanked the many for the opportunity and told him you had to leave. He looked at you a bit surprised. No one had quit the game this early, but he decided to just let you leave.

As you walked off you started to feel weak and then soon collapsed when it happened. He might be cruel but he was not a monster. He was not going to leave a women lying on the ground in the middle of the night especially you who he found quite interesting for leaving so early into the game 

.

.

.

You woke up confused, finding yourself under a warm blanket and comfy bed. You looked around and saw that it was a fully furnished room which looked luxurious. then you hear footsteps coming closer to where you were and there he was the man from last night 

“I see that your awake” he said holding a cup of coffee and having that same smirk from last night

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude” You said trying to quickly get up.

He pushed you on the bed and tucked you right back in handing you the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Drink this and tell me why you decided to play.” He said sitting near the edge of the bed.

He already knew about your situation and how much you needed that money, but he still wanted to hear you explain it

You hesitated a bit to tell him since you had only met last night, but there was something about him that made you trust him.

“Well about a year ago things were great. I was married and had a beautiful daughter. It was a perfect life, but until one day it wasn't. My ex husband began to hit me…” you paused letting out a big sigh trying to not let your emotions take over. “I tried my best to make sure he never got to my daughter . I wanted to protect her but I couldn't.” “Then one day I came home and there was no one inside”. 

As tears started to stream down your cheeks he came over with tissues and tried to clean your tears away.

“I looked all over for my daughter in that house but I never found her. The police were no help and that's when I started to hire private investigators to look for her but none have ever gotten a lead. That's why I work from morning to night just so that I could pay them to look for her” You were trying to keep yourself together. Then He hugged you and held you close. You could hear his calm heartbeats which helped you.

You both stayed like that until you felt better.

“Hey how about this I will take care of all your debt and help you look for your daughter and get her back”. You sat there in shock after hearing what came out of his mouth.

“But with one condition… you go out with me” He said giving you a sly smile

He saw how fragile you are and didn't want you to go through anything like that again.

You wanted to say yes right away but could you really trust him you did like him and he was willing to help you find your daughter

“alright” you said with a hint of blush on your face

He stepped out of the room and began to make some phone calls you didn't know to who but you just laid on the bed until he got back. When he said that he found the address that your daughter and possibly your ex husband might be at.

“WHAT YOU FOUND HER JUST LIKE THAT!” You began to cry tears of happiness

“We can go to the address right now if you want?”

“Yes please I want to see my baby girl” 

As soon as you finished your sentence he hurried you to a car that was already waiting for you both outside he opened the door for you to enter and after you went in he followed right behind you. From being in a rich area of seoul to a rundown and shady neighborhood you made it to an apartment building that was falling apart when you both entered it smelled rotten you reached a room that slightly opened as you both went in there was not many things inside the room but what caught your attention was a small closet that was right next to you so you decide to open it and what you saw was your worst nightmare

.

.

.

 it was your daughter with just a small blanket covering her and she had lost so much weight. You dropped down and picked up her small fragile body. Then came footspes from the other room. It was your monster husband.

“What do you think your doing here” He started yelling at you 

After saying those words he began to run towards you and holding a knife in but before he could get to you the salesman pushed him on the ground 

“Dear if you don't mind, could you grab your daughter and carry her outside and don't come back in here ok? I'll be out in a few minute” 

Not wanting to know what he would be doing next you grabbed your daughter and brought her to the car that was still there. He came out a bit after with a few red stains on his shirt you didn't even want to ask he then got in and asked the driver to take them to the nearest hospital as the car drove your daughter began to flutter her eyes open.

“Mommy” she asked in a weak voice

“Yes baby I'm right here” You said holding her close to your chest 

He just held your hand not knowing what to do 

Once you made it to the hospital the doctors took her from your arms and brought her to a room and they made you wait outside the room until they said you could come in. He was there the whole time with you making sure you were ok. Bringing you water and just comforting you. You never expected that meeting him at the station that day would bring you here and you felt love when you were with him not wanting to spend any time apart from him.

After a few hour the doctors finally came out and told you that she was in bad condition but nothing to much to worry her all you would need to do is give her the medicine that he proscribed and everything would be fine after he left you ran into the room where she was and then you saw her with the biggest smile you went over to hug her and all the stress left your body and you began to cry heavily not ever wanting to let her go the salesman came over to her bed and introduced himself as her new daddy and she loved the idea of having him as he new dad. (you did blush a bit when he said that) but these 3 days have been the most tiring but you could definitely see him had your husband and the love of your life even if he has a few screws loose thats what makes you love him even more.

A/n: OK im literally hyperfixating on this man so I just had to do something with him so this is kinda like a rant. I feel like it started off strong but I did spiral a bit on what to do with this but hope you all enjoy it!!! Pls suggest some ideas :P

[mk-wizard]

Dialogue in my head that was too good to keep to myself...

Starscream: That's it! I don't care about the fact that you saved my father anymore! I am NOT one of your recruits, students or underlings! You will cease and desist ordering me around or so help you, I'll- Heatwave: You'll WHAT?! The amnesty status of Decepticons on Earth is fragile enough as it is since the tension between Optimus and Rodimus! And might I remind you that unlike Cyclonus, you DO have a criminal record so technically, you're also on probation! So one false move and you're wings are clipped! Literally! Starscream:... Right now, that sacrifice seems worth it if it will get you off my back! Heatwave: You think I like having to watch your bumper? I don't! But I have to because you always get it into trouble because you either never stay out of trouble or never know when to mute it, Screamer! Starscream: You expect me to live by a human standard?! Heatwave: I expect you to live by a law abiding standard! Cody: *looks between them bickering and rolls his eyes leaving* Starscream: I DO obey the law! I just want to live as a Decepticon! Or is that criminalized on Earth too?! Heatwave: No, it's not, but how come your father, Glyph and Constructicons can follow Earth regulations and-... Aw, slag, I can't believe I'm standing up for them... Starscream: Aha! So the mask slips off! You ARE just following me around hoping I'll slip up so you can play hero! You Autobots are all the same! You think you are the standard of sainthood and every other Transformer is either a savage or a criminal! Why do I even bother playing nice when you all have already decided I'm guilty for just existing?! Heatwave: No! You're guilty because you actually committed war crimes! So spare me the victim card! Starscream: The war brought out the worst on both factions yet only Decepticons are held accountable! I would say that my "victim card" has meaning! Then again, what would YOU know?! You didn't fight in the war! You don't know the horrors I went through that forced my hand! You literally slept through it! You don't know the first thing about genuine suffering! Heatwave: *is insulted* Take. That. Back. Now! Starscream: No! Heatwave: Take it back! Starscream: I will not apologize for telling the truth! Heatwave: *rings Starscream's neck* TAKE IT BAAAAAAACK!! Starscream: *chokes and then grinds his teeth kicking Heatwave in the stomach getting himself free* How DARE you assault me! I'll rip your optics out with my bare hands! Heatwave: I'm gonna dismantle you piece by piece starting with your big voice box! And iceberg comes between them.... Cyclonus: ENOUGH!! *he turns to Starscream* Starscream, Earth was gracious enough to pardon you for your crimes. The least you can do is abide by their rules and stay out of trouble. Starscream: But, father, he- Cyclonus: I know what he did and how he sees us! You think I feel nothing when people only look at my faction and nothing else? Of course I get insulted, hurt and I hate having to constantly prove myself! But we all have to bear it until things change! Until then, be patient and conduct yourself with dignity! Do I make myself clear?! Starscream:... Yes, father. Cyclonus: And as for you, Heatwave, I stand by my words, but just because I walk the walk doesn't mean I am willing to take it sitting down! Not anymore! Heatwave: Huh?! Cyclonus: I have had enough of you circling around at my feet and everyone else's waiting for us to take one step out of line like a Sharkticon waiting to strike its prey! You never leave us alone, you call us slurs including our presence and worst of all, you encourage your own cadets to practice this behaviour! You should be ashamed of yourself! Heatwave:................. I... Cyclonus: I have reported your behaviour to BOTH Primes and they both agree that it qualifies as problematic and harassment! They are on their way in person to address your behaviour and everyone else's! I suggest you reflect and accept YOUR wrongdoings with grace *leaves and Cody is there looking at both Heatwave and Starscream with contempt before leaving*

When I remember they all in the same timeline I giggle

[tech-luver]

It's exam season and to help me cope I've been writing fun stuff between study sessions. Maybe my opinions could be appreciated and debated on the interwebs.

Ranking (some of) the LL crew based on who would let you take a nap on them and how comfy that nap would be:

Rodimus: 6/10 He would be so down with you taking a nap on him but he's very sharp and very distractable. His neck flare plate(?) would prevent you from sliding off but you better hope when something get his attention you don't get crushed in his neck cabling. I think he would try to remember you are there, maybe poke at you when he's bored, but if he's active, try is the key word there. Bonus points for running warm though… hopefully not too warm.

Megatron: 8/10 A solid nap to be had. Good flat shoulder plating and he would never forget you were up there. Loss of points over the fact he would only let it happen if he really liked you and, lets be real here, there would always be that prickle at the back of your neck over how low your defences are and how many organics this mech has crushed.

Ultra Magnus: 10/10 The holy grail of naps, plenty of flat surfaces to rest on, no one can bother you cuz almost no one is as tall as him, he would willingly be your alarm clock, always knows you're there, incredible nap spot. Only issue would be convincing him, but you could make up something about how humans need to nap in high places or whatever and he would fold in concern for your fragile human health.

Ratchet: 5/10 Half of the battle is getting him to agree and the other half is trying to fall asleep whilst he grumbles, he also moves around a lot cuz he never rests and is always helping bots in the medbay. I don't know if you can fall asleep to the sound of metal being welded together or someone getting yelled at for injuring themselves doing something stupid but… all the power to ya.

Drift: 9/10 Respects the need of the nap, it's basically like meditation so he gets it. His calm energy really helps when drifting off. I think he likes the idea of protecting a little human as they snooze which gives him guard dog energy when you're out, no ones messing with you and ruining your beauty sleep. Lose a point cuz he is sleek in design so fully resting on him comes at a risk.

Rung: 4/10 Doesn't mind if you ask but, I'm sorry, he's too rounded, not good for lying down. Although, he would be very careful and gentle with you so it just might work out. He works in a quiet environment which is nice but if he is having/about to have a therapy session he will ask you to leave, patient confidentiality is important to him. You would have to schedule your naps with him which is not the point of naps.

Cyclonus: 1/10 Zero flat surfaces so you would need to strap in. I don't think he would want you napping on him, he would constantly need to check you haven't fallen to your death and would find it awkward talking to people with something hanging on his shoulder. Would tell you to just go back to your berth or find a non-moving flat area, why do you want to nap on a Cybertronian anyway? A single point for at least being nice about it when he denies you.

Tailgate: 7/10 Absolute sweetheart about it but there's nowhere to really lay down on him. He would offer to hold you as a solution, which, if you don't mind being cradled like a baby (or having other people see you being cradled like a baby, tanking your reputation), seems alright. Since you are right in front of him at all times that way, there's no chance of him forgetting you're there. Will shush other people if they're being too loud around you. High chance of inducing cuteness aggression in him when you're asleep and softly snoring, will go for the cheeks.

Swerve: 3/10 This mech spends all his time loudly blabbering in a bar, noise needs to not be an issue for you. Similar issue with Tailgate where laying down is difficult. Unfortunately, does know what a human baby is so will coddle and humiliate you if you agree to being held. Another issue, the prankster Swerve is, you can't trust this guy to not draw on you or not steal something from you and hide it in an unreachable spot or not put you on a floatie in the middle of the oil reservoir. Gets some points cuz only HE can mess with you, anyone else tries to wake you up and they're out the bar.

Whirl: 0/10 …I mean there is literally nowhere to lay down, he's too damn skinny. You…could take a chance with his giant chassis but you'll probably slide off or look like you're in a baby holder if you strap yourself down. IF you are successful at staying in place (somehow), he would just bother you the whole time or not give a shit you're there and start running around. Worst case, he tries to use you as a meat shield to get away with annoying bots cuz "If you try to punch me, you'll punch the squishy human as well!"

Brainstorm: 3/10 Mech hangs from the ceiling sometimes. Sure, he has some alright shoulder plating to work with but his spontaneity could literally throw you off. Would allow a nap but wouldn't check on you, too absorbed in his work. If he was bored and didn't have any ideas coming to him, you could suggest a sleeping bag that attaches you to mechs you want to sleep on.

I know I've missed some bots, maybe my stress will produce a part 2.

[halfmoonshines]

marc spector/steven grant/jake lockley x reader

summary: you loved all of your boys equally. most days.

or; they're all amazing in their own ways, but definitely have their strong suits.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You were going to strangle Marc Spector, you were sure of it. You were also sure that Steven would forgive you, and Jake probably wouldn't bat an eye.

How many times had you told this man that you had a laundry basket for a reason? Fist of Vengeance or not, his socks still stunk and you were getting tired of padding around the apartment twice a week collecting them all.

You slammed the washer door shut a little too hard just as you heard the front door open and click shut.

"I'm home, love! They had a great deal on your favorite cream cheese at the shops." Steven's honey accent pierces the quiet of your anger and you immediately simmer; his sunny disposition a cold water on your raging fire. You had nearly forgotten that he was the one who went to the store.

"That's great." You said as you rounded the corner, a smile on your face.

Steven paused in his unloading the groceries, a furrow creasing his brow. "Are you alright, sweets? You look tense." He crossed the small kitchen over to you, hands settling lightly on your shoulders. Leave it to Steven to see the slightest bit of tension in you.

You have a loving eye roll, moving closer to wrap your own arms around him. "I'm okay, Steven. Just slightly peeved at Marc for being so messy."

His hold dropped to your waist and he rested his chin on top of your head, a mirthful chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "That he is, love. Right disgusting bugger. Shall we do something about him?"

"I thought you wouldn't take kindly to me choking him with the next dirty sock I find."

"I'm sure I can look the other way."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

"You're being ungrateful, you need to actually listen to me-"

Conversations with your mother never went over well, but this time you were well tired of listening to it.

"I am not being ungrateful, Sharon. I'm being realistic. Don't call me again." You slammed the phone down with a force, shaking the glass of water you had perched on the dining table. You winced, knowing that smart phones weren't made to take that kind of beating but you were far past the point of caring.

She always knew how to rile you up; to upset you and make you feel guilty. You didn't even know why you bothered to pick up her calls anymore. Some sick sense of ownership.

The hands that turned you were warm and familiar, the chest that greeted you smelling of musk and pine.

"You want to talk about it?" Marc's voice made you wince. Steven was the one that left the house this morning, you hadn't been aware that they planned to switch. You hated talking about this stuff with Marc, knowing full well it never compared to the relationship he suffered with his own mother.

You gave a shake of your head and met his dark brown gaze. "It's fine, babe. Same old attitude."

Marc's smirk lacked the usual humor. He raised one of his hands to twirl a loose piece of your hair, tracing the movement with his eyes. "You know you don't have to bottle it up, right? How you feel is important. Don't ignore that just because I have my own issues."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's quite the self aware statement, Mr. Spector. I'm impressed."

Marc's smile morphed into that familiar one and he returned your earlier eye roll. "Don't deflect. I'm here if you want to talk."

You dropped your hand to his and started to pull him towards the kitchen. "We can talk while we cook. I'm starving."

"I can agree with that."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You were being followed, you were sure of it. You tried not to hasten your steps too much, knowing full well that the person who had been following you for the last six blocks would give chase.

You wouldn't escape them.

You and the boys had obviously gone through this kind of situation before. Being the fist of Khonshu didn't come with a fan club, but it certainly did build a repertoire of enemies. If they lived, that is.

Your breath was puffing out of you in clouds as you power walked down a road parallel to your own, debating the merits on showing this man where you lived on the off chance that Marc was home.

You could hear the footsteps behind you speed up and you returned it in kind, kicking into a slow jog - all pretense of being unaware going out the window.

You glanced over your shoulder to see the man approaching quickly, and that was the first mistake you made.

The second one was hesitating when another men stepped out of the shadows of a store front. You knocked into him firmly, breath escaping out of your chest while his harsh grip dug into your shoulders.

Oh, you were fucked.

The man who had been following you caught up to you then, hand clasping over your mouth to muffle the strangled scream you had attempted.

Those training sessions in the living room with Jake felt like a distant memory with the blood pumping through your veins. You kicked wildly at the man in front of you, managing to graze that sensitive bit between his legs.

"I'm going to enjoy this so much more now." The accent was Irish, but you were quickly distracted by the large knife he brought up to your throat.

You stopped thrashing, all too aware of the sharp tip of steel biting into the sensitive skin on your neck. A stray tear rolled out of your eye, fate becoming more concrete.

"Hurry it up, Joey. We don't have time to dally."

"Shut yer pipe-" The man holding the knives voice gurgled briefly before he collapsed on the ground in front of you, the tips of crescent moon shaped knives poking out of the front of his chest.

You found him instantly, half masked by the shadows on the street.

"Bloody fuck." The man holding you simply tightened his hold, one hand fisting in your hair and yanking your head back. The squeal you gave wasn't by choice but you could see the start that the suited man watching you gave. "Stay over there, white devil, or she will die with me. Do you hear-"

You almost didn't see it, the knife being thrown but it was embedded in the goon's throat before your next breath. He released you all at once and you fell forward from the force, gloved hands catching you before you could hit the pavement.

You were heaving breaths, vaguely aware that you were going into something akin to shock but unable to pull yourself out.

"Breathe, mi corazon. You need to take slow breaths." Jake's own hands were shaking almost imperceptibly, you could tell that he was struggling to keep a lid on his fury.

You dragged in a deep breath through your nose, forcing yourself to sit on it before exhaling. You folded into his embrace, fresh tears springing into your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Jake's scoff was almost offensive. "What the fuck are you sorry about?"

You gestured to yourself haphazardly. "Completely losing my shit the first time that something happens to me."

The suit disappeared then, his bare hand gripping your chin lightly, bringing your gaze to his. There was fire churning there, and you realized you mistook some of his anger. There was fear there too. For you, though. Never himself.

"Don't you ever apologize to me when there's," His hand lowered a bit, ghosting over the line of red that the knife had left on your throat. "Blood dripping down you. Blood that's my fault." You understood then, the hard clench of his jaw. "Mierda, babe. This could've ended so differently."

Your hand wraps around the his wrist, bringing it into your lap, willing him to look at you instead of the wound he was fixated on. "But it wasn't. Because you were here. I'm okay, Jake."

Something flashed in his eyes, and a cloud passed over his face. He was bottling it up, you could tell, but there wasn't much you could do about that right now. "Let's get you home."

You let him help you off the pavement, keeping a grounding hand on his arm. Jake hesitated a moment, question poised on his tongue.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure you're okay? If you want to talk it out, I can step back. It would probably be good to have someone to talk to-"

Your kiss was chaste, but served its purpose of shutting him up. "If I wanted to talk about it, I could do that with you, Jake. You don't need to go anywhere."

"You know I'm not very good at that-"

"You're perfect." You insisted. No room for arguments.

He smiled wryly, arm wrapping around your waist. "How about I run you a bath when we get home and we order some takeout. What are you hungry for?"

"Surprise me."

[unpopularly-opinionated]

So you believe that Boeing paid off the family juuuuuust enough to get them to say that he wasn't assassinated, but not enough to stop them from saying "Boeing is responsible for his death and should be held responsible for their grotesque conduct that drove him to suicide?"

I guess I should've been more clear when I said Boeing "paid off" the bereaved family, that's on me I guess, but I didn't mean they paid them off in the same sense that you'd pay off a cop. If it even transpired, it would more than likely go something like: "Hey, we feel really bad about the tragic loss of your son who definitely for sure killed himself, so uh, here's some money for your loss. See, we're the good guys in this! Please don't point fingers at us."

Or alternatively, they could've not been paid at all. Both are just as likely and explain why the family might still be pointing fingers. It wouldn't have been hush money, more like a gift meant to ingratiate them as an innocent party that obviously didn't work (again, assuming it even happened).

The evidence you have is an apparent belief that money has evil-gravitic properties, and anything bad that happens must have originated with the closest concentration of money.

Not anything, no, just the ones where Occam's razor applies. Again, which is more likely, a hundred billion dollar company who are active agents of shady, illegal business practices had both the cause and the means to have someone with information dangerous to their company killed and covered up... or that the guy who was about to testify with said-dangerous information just up and decided to end it all right before the finish line?

You seem to be under the impression that money holds little to no power which is as amusing to me as it is grossly naive.

By your standard, is there any evidence that is not hearsay? Because the evidence is "all of the evidence," and I appended the assessment of the family to pre-empt the accusation it was all made up evidence. What evidence does not count as hearsay?

To reiterate, I don't have any evidence that he was killed, nor did I ever claim to. But the evidence that he killed himself is the hole in his head and the "trust me bro" we get from the cops, which is the same exact kind of evidence that we got from Epstein's supposed suicide as well, just a man hanging in his cell and a "trust me bro" from the cops.

Now, is this me saying that we should question whether or not every suicide by gunshot/hanging is legit or just actually a covered up murder? No, obviously not. Again, I'm just applying Occam's razor here. Joe Blow who lived an average life before deciding to end it all probably wasn't secretly murdered. But the guy with information that could harm a lot of really powerful people, who is in active pursuit of revealing that information to the proper authorities, decides to end it all just before the finish line? You can't reasonably argue that it's not the least bit suspect.

The rest of us know Epstein didn't kill himself because we observe facts about reality and observe when they do and do not align with a conspiracy or cover-up.

You know, I don't mean to be rude, and what I said about you being naive about money was rude, so I apologize. But if not money, you seem to think that maybe only politicians or political figures have the modicum of power necessary to have someone killed and cover it up.

Like let's just examine your admission here: You've admitted that the circumstances surrounding Epstein's supposed suicide were suspect enough to justify questioning it's legitimacy. You admit to this despite the fact that he was in prison and under close watch by guards and cameras. Which, mind you, I agree with. But you're telling me that someone in those circumstances was somehow murdered, and said-murder was then covered up?

So then explain to me how exactly it's so unbelievable that a dude not in prison, not under watch by guards or cameras, was murdered in his car and then covered up as a suicide? How was one dude with dangerous information under total security and surveillance mysteriously killed and staged, but the other dude with dangerous information with no security or surveillance probably just killed himself?

This isn't the hill I'm prepared to die on, but sure, maybe he did kill himself. But then again, maybe Epstein actually just killed himself too.

Remember earlier this year when Boeing very clearly had a whistleblower executed? And law enforcement didn't even look for anyone or release any info about it or anything?

People keep comparing Luigi Mangione's case to the subway murderer who got off because of systemic eugenics, but I think there's something more apt about the fact that a CEO had someone executed in recent memory, with zero attempts to find a culprit, while they spared no expense at all to find (and probably frame, it's beginning to look like) someone who shot a CEO. It's always fine to slaughter if you're rich, but if you kill the rich, they will hunt you down.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 36 Have you left a seat for me?

Final chapter of Moonlight

A/N- The final chapter! but there will be an epilogue!!

Warning- some angst, FLUFF!!!! Talks of death and violence, SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- Past 578

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

And there he is ever so gracefully under the moonlight, like a wild wolf admiring the beautiful moon. Only Cregan is very quietly watching over your son as he continues to talk to Alys, making sure that she doesn’t…cast a spell on him you assume? He is very wary of her because of what she can do.

“How is it going?” You interrupt his silence even though he already heard you approaching him since you were a few paces back.

“I do not know,” he shares as he peers over his shoulder and watches you break the barrier of space that was between you by wrapping your arms around his waist, and then pressing a kiss on his shoulder blade before resting your chin on his shoulder.

“He left dinner a while ago to come talk to her again,” he adds as he turns his head away to continue watching the pair distancing themselves from the Weirwood tree—“At least he hasn’t turned into a frog.”

You roll your eyes and gently knee the back of his leg, causing him to laugh breathlessly as he cups your hands wrapped around him before drifting his gaze to the corner of his eyes to be able to look at you.

“We can ask in the morning,” you try to assure him. “Just trust her okay? Has Alys given you a reason to distrust her? Alys likes the kids. All of them. If she didn’t she wouldn’t have agreed to help.”

Cregan hums in comprehension and then turns around to be able to look at you, letting you see his conflicted eyes brewing under the moonlight. “I tried talking to Jacaerys, but he brushed me off. Again.”

You watch the desperation in his eyes and lift your hand to stroke his jaw. “My love, he’s drinking right now and carried away with his brothers. Try again when he’s sober. Alright?”

Cregan nods his head and then lifts his hand to caress your arms. “I have been dropping my woes on you, how was your funeral?”

The softness taking ahold of your eyes fades and that sorrow and ache once again contorts your face. Cregan notices right away and interjects rapidly. “I am sorry I could not be at your side. I wanted to…”

“But Aemond would not have liked it,” you finish his sentence and move away from him to start leading him away from the Godswood. “So it’s okay. I already told you it was. Besides, the girls were at my side in your place.”

“And because they wanted to be there too,” he adds, causing you to respond with a small smile that tells him that you know that too.

“And I'm grateful for it…” You trail off and your smile fades whilst agony quickly takes over the sorrow as you think back to what Aerion said and did earlier.

“Do you think…I did something wrong to make Aerion and Daenys forsake their father?” You have to ask out of helplessness because what Aerion said has been gnawing at your mind all night and wounding your heart for Aemond— “You know I tried to keep our people from speaking ill of him when they lived in Winterfell, and I never talked bad about him to them either, but they still don’t acknowledge him. That’s why Daenys didn’t bother showing up for his funeral.”

Cregan glances at you and sees your distress and guilt clearly spewing out, making this conversation easier to navigate. “They know what you told them. They remember your efforts of painting him in a good light so they can look at him fondly, but, my darling, they are adults now and you cannot keep the world silent.”

Your frown deepens and you whisper. “I know.”

He swallows back nervously and continues to be brutal but honest. “They were going to learn about their father's doings and form their own opinion about him one way or another. Besides, they…didn’t know him as you did, so the good shared by one person cannot outweigh the bad written in history and shared by thousands.”

You draw in a shaky breath and nod, leaving a silence to spread between you and linger as you make your way to your dragon. Cregan doesn’t know that but he follows you anyhow with the silence not bothering him.

“One time,” you break the silence and keep the melancholy emotions running high. “A Red Priestess told me that three of my children would be followed by sin,” you pause and Cregan looks at you bewildered, not because he finds what you’re saying absurd, but because he can’t believe you seem to take words from the priestess so seriously.

“I have tried to break my head trying to figure out what she meant for so long…”

Cregan sighs out of annoyance but he doesn’t fail to amuse you. “What does it mean?” He probes.

You glance at the starry sky and share what you assume. “Daenerys is a bastard. We cannot deny that. We can't spin it any other way. She was created while I was married to Aemond,” you say with no actual guilt or distress because you don’t let that fact bother you anymore—“And Daenys and Aerion will always be overshadowed by the actions of their father and me. Kinslayers. Every time someone figures out who their parents are, that's the first thing that will come to mind. That sin.” Your voice breaks but tears don’t spill. You continue to look distressed.

“That should not bother you. They’re words of a witch. I have told you this many times.”

“But it does,” you retort and drop your eyes on him. “Because it’s what makes me a bad mother.”

Cregan lifts his eyebrow and leans his face towards you to whisper. “If you’re a bad parent then I am one too. I cannot talk to my sons and in turn, they don’t trust me enough to bear their sorrows on me. They think I hate them because I cannot simply talk to them. I am too cold. I am their Lord rather than their father, so don’t bear that burden alone.”

You hold his gaze and your eyes soften with awe as you let out a soft and relieved scoff. In turn, Cregan strokes your chin and then drags his hand up to caress your cheek, making you lean into his touch.

“I love you,” you remind him, making a warmth creep onto his cheeks and a timid smile tug on his lips.

“I love you too,” he doesn’t hesitate to redirect.

You hold his grey eyes for a second longer before you look ahead and pick up your speed as you walk past the castle gates and see Astraea curled up outside the wall since she’s too big to fit within the castle walls and too protective to stray far to find a nice open space to rest.

“<Look at you!>” You exclaim to your beloved dragon in High Valyrian and skip before you jog to her. “<Too worried to go far?>” You ask. “<Good girl,>” You coo as you reach Astraea and throw your arms around her snout.

This time Astraea fills her silence by letting out an affectionate growl. You proceed to caress her and press your forehead against her, choosing to leave it there for a moment, but then getting interrupted by the sound of a word that sends you in alert. “Mother.”

Your eyes snap open and you move away from Astraea without letting her go to follow the sound and that’s when you catch Jacaerys sitting against Astraea with a goblet in his hand that he lifts in the air for you, and Cregan walking up behind you.

“Father.”

You share a quick glance with Astraea and then let your hands slip to slowly approach Jacaerys. “I’m surprised you’re out here, Jace.”

He scoffs and takes a long drink of wine before he gives you his response. “Why? You should know I’m going to enjoy my last bits of freedom before I am forced to wither away at the Wall.”

You blink repeatedly out of nervousness and then you snap at him. “Jacaerys. We already talked. Don’t—”

“All for you father,” he cuts you off and pushes the cup toward Cregan slowly making his way to you and Jacaerys.

“Jacaerys.”

“It's alright,” Cregan assures you. “He may speak his mind.”

Jacaerys rolls his eyes away as he turns his head away. Cregan reaches where you are and pats your arm before walking past you to be closer to Jacaerys.

“Why are you mad at me, Jace?” Cregan asks, making your stomach knot with concern. Especially as Jacaerys keeps quiet for a while.

Astraea senses this and turns her head to gently tap your side with her snout so you can relax. And you do take a breath but you still feel worried. More so as Jacaerys finally meets his father's eyes.

“Because of you and this need to send me away to the Wall,” he finally snaps with his eyebrows quickly furrowing. “I may not be next in line to be Lord like Rickon or Maekor. I may not have dragon dreams like Torrhen, or be married to a lady with a powerful family, but have you ever thought about what I wanted and not what you wanted? Have you thought about the fact that wasting away with a bunch of old men is not what I consider honorable? It’s always, “It's an honor”, or “It’s your duty”, that I started to be someone that I wasn’t to believe it, but I’m tired. I do not want to be a Brother of the Night's watch. That’s not me.”

Cregan drops his head and places his arms on his hips, whilst Jacaerys glances over at you with a flicker of surprise over the fact that he just said all that to his father. And as Cregan remains quiet Jacaerys speechlessly asks for reassurance so you offer him a small nod and a gentle smile, letting him draw in a deep breath and return his attention to his father.

“Then what do you want, Jacaerys?” Cregan interjects as he lifts his eyes off the ground to look at Jacaerys without anger. It would be heard in his voice if he was angry.

“I,” said man pauses but not because he’s caught off guard or clueless. He just exhales and then continues. “I cannot have a dragon like mother, but maybe I want to sail and…see the world like Yi-Ti, or some other distant land. This world is big. I don't want to just waste away in some corner imagining what it might look like when I have the ability to actually know it.”

A proud smile spreads on your face as you hear your son's dream. One similar to the one you had once upon a time.

“It was told to me that a Stark always had to serve the Wall. With all your brothers having a place in this world, I placed that duty on you without taking your opinion under consideration. And maybe if your mother had been another woman I would have forced you, but…” Cregan pauses and looks back at you with an admiring smile. “I have heard your words before. I know that girl would want nothing more than to let you go and do what she couldn’t,” he says, making your smile tremble—“So go if you want Jace,” he directs back at his son. “Or stay. Follow your heart. Be free and keep dreaming in ways that girl couldn’t.”

Jacaerys eyes fall and you see his mind racing so you approach Cregan and hook your arm around his. He turns his head and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

“Mother…is it true?” Jacaerys questions since your past desires are something you haven’t shared with your kids. It’s been forgotten for a long time until now.

“Once. I always wanted more, but your father helped me see that I already had so much in what I was given. I just had to learn to see it and enjoy it. Besides…my place was always here. I learned that long ago, but your place…is wherever you want it to be because you don’t have the burdens we did…so be free Jace.”

Said man nods in comprehension and his breath shudders as he lowers his head again. Cregan takes this time to approach him and take a seat beside him without uttering a word. He just sits with his son, causing the boy to slowly look at his father with an appreciative smile.

Cregan slowly meets his gaze and offers a sweet smile in return, making your heart swoon as you watch the silent interaction from where you stand.

——

*A FEW DAYS LATER*

“<Trust me we’re getting out of here now,>” you assure Astraea since she’s not a fan of the Riverlands. “<But I do have to tell you that when we get to King’s Landing you’ll have to fly to Dragonstone. Aegon…” you breathe out as you stroke her face. “Is not a fan of you, so stay at Dragonstone until it’s time to leave okay?>”

Astraea, like always doesn’t respond, you know she listens but she can’t respond.

“Are you flying Astraea to Kings Landing?” You hear a voice travel into your ears, making your hands fall off Astraea to turn and face Torrhen joining you and your dragon in the field past the castle walls.

“Not yet. I don’t want to leave you all behind for two weeks,” you let him know and watch Astraea as she pushes herself up and crawls closer to Torrhen to nudge him gently.

“About that,” Torrhen brings up softly as he lays his eyes on Astraea. “I am going to stay with Alys. Just until you make your way back this way. After that, I am leaving back home with you.”

You blink in surprise and then your eyebrows knot together. “Are you…sure? You don’t want to go see your sister? Or your uncles?”

Torrhen's grey eyes slowly find you and he sighs before he explains his reasoning. “I would like to, but I have been learning so much from Alys, and she still has a lot to teach me. I don’t want to waste this opportunity, not while my mind is still rampant. I still cannot make sense of what I see, but…the weight of them is not as heavy anymore and it’s thanks to her.”

Your confusion and concern falls and the corner of your lips show your amusement as it rises. “And you didn’t want to talk to her,” you remark teasingly, making him laugh under his breath.

“Maybe after this, I can be unburdened by my dreams and visions and be carefree like her,” he adds, causing you to fall serious and close the space between you to wrap your hand around his arm and gently caress him.

“If that's what you believe then stay,” you assure him since even if he wasn’t asking, he was still seeking your opinion without demanding it. “And then come home,” you press, but quickly break into a smile to let him know you’re not all that serious about demanding him home.

“Or don’t. If that’s what you want. I will be sad, but it is normal.”

Torrhen shows his pity, but he quickly consoles you. “My place is still at home. Do not worry.”

You scoff and nod lightly in comprehension before you let go of his arm and offer him a sweet smile. “Stay then, and after…talk to your father? Him and Jacaerys talked, so maybe you can try talking with him now.”

Torrhen sees the desperation and the plea in your eyes so even if he’s hesitant he tries to please you. “I will try. I swear.”

You let out a breath of relief and when he notices the change on your face he flashes you a faint smile before he licks his lips and tries to share his concern. “Will you be okay when you return to King's Landing?”

You have returned to King’s Landing many times already, so going shouldn’t bring you so much conflict, but you still grow stiff and nervously avert your gaze. “I always am,” you respond in a stiff voice and then drift your eyes over to him to offer him a faint smile to go with your response.

“Now,” you avoid going deeper into that conversation since he knows more than anyone you're depressing history with King’s Landing. “See us off?”

Torrhen doesn’t deny your request, he happily lets you hook your arm around him to return to the castle side by side.

The moments that follow aren’t eventful, you stick to your schedule and depart from Harrenhal to head to King’s Landing whilst also leaving Torrhen behind with Alys with no protests from anyone. Then again what could they say? Even if this would be his first time being alone away from home, he’s a man grown trying to make sense of his abilities. It’s best to leave him be so he can get his help.

Besides, the further you get away from Harrenhal and your youngest child, the less you worry about him and the more that you feel distressed by returning to King's Landing, the land where you once lived your life for fifteen years.

Happy memories were made there. Good memories you cherish, but the grief, agony, torment, and the violence that you lived through there is what makes itself present every time you think about King’s Landing and every single time you've returned because it’s a constant reminder of what you lost. Just like Dragonstone. Albeit you can actually step foot in King’s Landing, you cannot and have not returned to Dragonstone—Even if it’s been twenty-five years since your mother died.

Time was supposed to heal you. Turn your wounds into scars, and then distant and faded memories, alas, the moment you arrive to the great capital and lay your eyes on the amazing Red Keep, you curse everyone who said such a stupid thing because twenty-five years since your mother's death, twenty-six years since Aemond’s death, and twenty-seven years since the war started has not passed in your heart or your mind. The memories and the anguish are not vivid anymore, but the scar hurts, and the ache is a reminder of what you no longer have.

At least there is happiness and light in the family you do have living here though. They keep the storm at bay and break a smile on your face.

“Grandmother!” The sweet little sing-song voice of Naerys rings as she breaks out of formation and makes her way to you.

You beam right away as you see your young granddaughter running to you and meet her halfway to quickly sweep her off her feet and hold her against you. “Hello, my little songbird,” you coo as you hug her tightly. “How are you feeling, hm?” You ask right away.

“Oh grandmother I have missed you,” she lets you know before she pulls back to face you with her sweet blue eyes. “I am better.”

You grin brighter. “I’m glad to hear it. And for that, your grandfather and I have brought you a present.”

The little girl's eyes brighten as she grows giddy. “What is it? Where is it?” She asks and looks past your shoulder.

“With your grandfather. You’ll have to wait for him to get here,” you tell her, making her even more eager to know. “Now let’s put you down—”

“Hey! Where is Astraea going?!” Another young voice interjects, making you drift your eyes down to see your grandson Aemon running past you to watch Astraea fly away with a pout—“I wanted to ride her,” he complains as he crosses his arms over his chest whilst you put Naerys down and approach him from behind.

“Forgive me little one. I don’t want to distress your uncle Aegon, so she has to leave,” you tell Aemon, Daenys’ oldest child with her husband and your brother Viserys, making Naerys their youngest child and Aemon’s sister.

“Well,” Aemon huffs and turns around to face you. “Then can you promise that I will ride her with you before you leave?” He pleads and bats his eyes, making you touch your chest and melt.

“Of course, I promise, but first,” you add and crouch to be at his level. “Why don’t you show me some love, hm?”

The little boy grins brightly and then throws his arms around you, causing Naerys to join in and throw her little arms around you too.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you all. You’ve grown so much since I last saw you,” you mutter as you embrace them against you.

“I lost a tooth since we saw each other last,” Aemon shares as he peels back to show the gap where his tooth is meant to be. “Because Aegon pushed me during training.”

You stroke his chin and whisper. “Did you get a coin for that tooth?”

Aemon closes his mouth a nods, causing you to flash him one last smile before you let Naerys go and stand to your given height to turn around and face your daughter Daenys.

Once your eyes are on her, much like her daughter, she breaks from formation and makes her way to you as you make your way to her to meet each other halfway with an embrace.

“I am sorry I could not go to Harrenhal,” Daenys chooses to make that the first thing she still tells you without knowing that her brother already told you the real reason why she chose not to go.

Albeit you don’t bring it up. Like with her brother, you let her be angry and have her own emotions toward her father. Instead, you caress her back and assure her. “It’s alright. I understand. I’m just glad Naerys is okay and I could make it here to see you.”

Without needing to see her you know Daenys is smiling timidly and that’s all you need from her to let the ordeal go.

“When do the others get here? Is Alysanne coming?” She asks as you both pull away from each other and hold each other's hands.

“She is. And they should be here by the end of the day.”

Her smile widens at the sound of the news, making you stroke her cheek before you move to greet your brother Viserys, who was thought of as dead for a while, but a few years after peace was officially announced throughout the realm, a family from Lys sailed to Westeros with him aboard to bring him back home. With conditions of course, but alas, that condition abandoned Viserys a year after she had their son Aegon the Fourth.

After that condition left is when Daenys and Viserys married, out of duty, but also because they grew a liking to each other as Daenys was the Queen’s Lady-in-waiting.

“Vis,” you greet sweetly and don’t greet him with an embrace, instead you cup the back of his neck and offer him a sweet smile that he mirrors with a charm added to it.

“Sister. I’m happy to see you and I know our brother Aegon is eager too, but…” he trails off and you finish for him.

“Astraea. Yes, I assumed. How are you?”

He shrugs. “I have no reason to complain. My daughter made it out of her illness and you are here with the rest of our family soon to join…Aerion is coming, yes?”

You giggle and nod. “Of course.”

His smile grows wider and he nods in comprehension. After that, you step to the side and look down at the little boy standing beside him.

“Hello, Aegon.”

Said boy offers you a faint tight-lipped smile, but that’s it. He doesn’t mirror his siblings' excitement, so you move on to greet the Queen, Daenaera Velaryon, one of your cousins, and the second wife to your brother Aegon after Jaehaera sadly passed away not long after she was crowned Queen and before she and Aegon could have children.

Daenaera is sweet and charming. Kind and understanding which is why you were comfortable greeting your grandchildren, daughter, and brother first, because she doesn’t mind it and because to her your title as the Dowager Queen commands more respect, so she lets you be, plus she knows you’ll never leave her out, and you don’t. After you greet her, you then greet her children standing at her side, but then hastily return to her to touch her expecting belly since you treat her like you do your brothers, with affection and warmth.

Once that greeting is over nevertheless, as all the noise of your welcome has calmed down, you make your way to a drawing room in the royal apartments. One that you would spend your time at with your mother and brothers. One where the setting sun would shine through the balcony window and bask your mother ever so perfectly, making her look ethereal and angelic as she listened to you read your books in Valyrian, or sing a song.

You always liked the end of the day in that room because of that detail. You looked forward to it every day because it was always so warm and comforting. She was always so warm and comforting…

When you're there now, all that's gone, leaving only a sad memory. Thus your exhale is heavy and not relaxed, and when a knock raps on the door you expect to see someone who’s been dead a long time, but instead you see your brother Aegon walking in so you quickly get up and curtsy. “Your Grace,” you greet, and right away Aegon puts his hands out and interjects.

“Please, you do not have to do that when we’re alone. You’re the Dowager Queen. I owe you my respects,” he says and then offers you a small bow, making you giggle before you make your way around the couch to reach him.

“Dowager Queen or not you are still my King,” you argue, causing him to lower his head and then shake it.

“Perhaps but I prefer to be your brother first,” he counters and you sigh before taking his hands in yours.

“Alright…sweet brother. I’m glad to see you.”

He lifts his solemn blue eyes off the floor to meet your gaze, causing a shuddering breath to escape through your nose as a memory of your mother flashes in your mind. Aegon doesn’t look like your mother, he doesn’t have her eyes or the same color hair. His hair is also pin straight and he’s impressively tall and lean, but even so, as you look into the eyes of the little brother who was with you when your mother died, you see her in him for a fraction of a second.

“And I you,” he redirects as he gently rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs. “Is your dragon…”

“Gone?” You cut him off and then nod. “She flew to Dragonstone. She’ll stay there until it’s time to leave, so you can rest easy.”

He nods stiffly in comprehension and you proceed to take a long look at his thin face, noticing he looks a bit thinner than usual. “Aegon, my sweet, have you been eating?” You ask and he pulls his hands away and nods quickly as if to brush you off.

“Quite well in fact,” he dismisses you and makes his way over to the couch to take a seat, making you walk back to sit beside him.

“Why do you come here first every time you come to King's Landing?” He cuts the other conversation short. “I always mean to ask, but I always forget.”

You intertwine your fingers together and exhale deeply as if trying to work up the courage to share the reason. As if it was costly to your scarred heart. “Uh…when I was a little girl I used to come here with our brothers and mother…”

Aegon shifts slightly at the sound of the memory but you continue.

“…it was not every evening, just some, but we would spend time here whether it be playing, talking about our day, and or doing some different activity, but,” you pause and your eyes flicker to your hands as the memory becomes more vivid than before. “One of my favorite things to do was read or sing to our mother right here on this couch because when the sun was setting it would peek through the balcony doors and all the windows and kiss her ever so gracefully, making her look…absolutely breathtaking, so I would admire her and hope every time that I would grow up to be as beautiful as her…” you trail off and peel your hands away from each other to gently rub the couch before finding the strength to look at him without feeling like you’ll cry.

However, you notice that Aegon is teary-eyed, so you reach over for his hand and cradle it.

“I wish I could have seen that,” he mutters and averts his gaze. “I wish I had been born earlier so I had more time with her like you and our brothers did.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze, causing his eyes to pull back to you and catch your pitiful smile.

“I try to talk to Viserys about our mother, or our father, but…he doesn’t remember how they look like or actually hold a single memory about our life before, so I’m alone in my grief until you’re here.”

If only he knew how alone you felt in your grief whether it was with him, or without him over the simple fact that he never lived in the earlier years when you still lived with your mother and brothers. But you don’t tell him that to avoid breaking his heart.

“If you ever want to talk you can send me a raven,” you remind him. “I’ll answer as soon as I can or even fly here if need be.”

He giggles softly and you can’t help but smile before you drag yourself closer to him and share a small story about your mother since he loves hearing them. Albeit there was a time when he was a boy that he wanted nothing to do with you because of the fact that you left; he was so livid that you left him all on his lonesome, but when he got older and a bit mature he figured out that you left because you had your duty to your husband and your family, and well…older sisters eventually have to leave their little brothers behind to live their lives. He was never aware of the fact that you couldn’t continue living here, and you would never tell him.

“One time when I was a little girl, as you know, I liked going down to the platform by the sea,” you begin your story, sparking eagerness within him to know more.

“I liked to sneak away from my Septa’s, and our mother never got me in trouble even if she was told to, but,” you giggle. “She got curious as to where I always ran off to one day, so she followed me without my knowledge. Every step I took, she took in secret without making a peep. She was rather sneaky. Eventually, when I reached the platform, she came up behind me as I reached my straw man and announced her presence so abruptly that she frightened me so badly that I fell over the ledge with my straw man falling under me, breaking my fall, but not shielding me from the wave that crashed over me. So I got soaked, and after our mother helped me back to stable ground she laughed…and I laughed with her.”

A smile tugs on Aegon’s lips before he laughs softly, making his shoulders shake and his solemn eyes spark with a flicker of joy.

That reaction makes you laugh with him, giggle in fact as you watch him and admire the way he laughs because it’s so rare to hear. You have to grasp and internalize the scraps you’re given. However in doing so, even though the sun is not seeping through the balcony door and all the drawing rooms windows, sunbeams still find their way inside and cast Aegon in its illuminating hue, making his usually dark blue eyes gleam brightly, and making him appear as beautiful as you mother looked when she was basked by the same sun.

For the first time in twenty-five years since her death, for a fraction of a second, your mother was in the same quarters as you in the body of her son. And then…as fast as that second same, she left and you were orphaned all over again.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

After some time of being in King's Landing, it’s finally time to leave, and yes, you’ll miss your brothers, your daughter, and your grandchildren, but besides the memories that haunt you, this place is not as grandeur as you once believed. Thus you’re eager to leave with Alysanne to the Riverlands until she gives birth—albeit you will miss the sea; it’s so far from Winterfell...

Nevertheless, before you can even attempt to leave, you enter your chambers to grab what you need before you meet up with Daenys and Aerion, but as you come across your bed; you see that there's a rather long and wide gift box sitting on the bed.

You look around in confusion before you approach the gift box and notice a small square folded note attached to the ribbon that has your name neatly written on it.

Cregan comes to mind, but he has not eluded to gifting you something. He usually would, but he hasn’t and neither have any of your children, so, you eagerly grab the note to see who it could be from.

“Dear sister,

I found one of Mother’s gowns so I had it tailored for you so you could cherish and wear it. And that’s not at all, in my search I also found one of her rings and I noticed that you fidget with your rings the same way she did, so I had it customized for you.

From,

Aegon.”

Whether you wanted to or not, tears run out of your eyes without warning and stream down the curve of your cheeks whilst your heart dances with pure bliss. You try to open the gift box, but all you can do is put the note down before you start sobbing, and your heart starts aching out of genuine bliss.

You can hardly breathe for quite a while so you have to sit down and catch your breath first before you wipe the tears off your face and pull the box onto your lap. More tears do quickly well up in your eyes, but you ignore them and pull on the ribbon to loosen it and put it aside before you open the box. Thin paper presides over the gown so you yank it off and when you lay your eyes on the black and crimson gown you break down again, but to avoid staining the gown with tears you cover your face to cry into your hands.

After a few more tears you pull your hands away to wipe them off your face and then wipe your hands on your thighs before grabbing a small velvet box that was placed on top of the gown.

Of course, more tears stream down your face and your shoulders tremble as you take in the simple yet beautiful gold ruby ring that once belonged to your beloved mother.

After she fled the city and after she died you never thought you’d find any of her things. Most of the smallfolk took off with the jewelry and the clothes she had to leave behind, leaving only a few things behind, so you didn’t have much until now. And it’s all thanks to your sweet melancholy brother, Aegon.

You smile at your gifts and gently smooth out the gown. You would wear it right away, but the day is coming to an end so you’ll have to save it for later. As for the ring, well, you wear that now and get surprised when it fits just right.

You proceed to linger on the edge of the bed after that with the things resting on your lap until you feel like it doesn’t look like you’ve been sobbing uncontrollably. After that, you set the gift box down on the bed again and grab what you came here for before meeting up with your children.

As expected they’re already waiting for you where you told them to with quite the impatient look painted on their faces.

“Mother,” Daenys complains as she unfolds her arms. “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting here for ages.”

You snicker and roll your eyes as you walk past the pair, catching the way Aerion tries to study your face as evidence that you’ve been crying still remains on your face.

“Mother,” Aerion speaks up as he trails right behind you. “Are you alright?”

You hum in agreement and unlatch the tall windows to push them open and reveal the roofs. The same roofs that Aemond and you would escape to when you were children—“Come,” you urge them and step out of the window to stand on the roofs.

“Mother,” Daenys calls out. “Are you mad? What are you doing?!”

“Just come on,” you brush off her panic and lead them away from the window and around the corner where no windows decorate the walls so you aren’t seen. Aerion and Daenys are hesitant to follow, you almost believe that they won’t follow you, but eventually, you see them peeking around the corner.

“Mother,” Aerion calls out now with worry, but you just pat the empty spots beside you.

The siblings look at each other with concern but Daenys takes the risk and falls by your side, Aerion lingers behind cautiously, so you interject with amusement. “We will not fall, trust me. I have done this hundreds of times.”

“I believe you,” Daenys mutters and raises her head to peek over the ledge.

“We will not stay long,” you assure them, and then turn around to dig into the bag that you brought with you and pull out things they have not seen before.

Aerion notices that you’re pulling things out of your bag so he carefully makes his way over to join you and his sister. “This is completely unsafe,” he mutters. “You are meant to safeguard us, not put us in harm's way.”

You snort and cover the things by pulling back a thin layer of your gown. “I fought in a battle with your sisters in my belly, and have taken you on dragonback when you were babes. I am not someone who takes safety as my priority, besides, you will be fine. Unless you’re reckless. Are you?”

Aerion carefully takes a seat beside you and then shakes his head and deadpans. “No.”

You shrug to brush him off and then move along with the matter at hand. “I brought you here today because when we were in the capital together a few years back, I…never took your feelings toward your father under consideration. I worried about my own grief and my own loss that I disregarded yours and thought lies that I would only recently uncover. So now that the three of us are here I summoned you to a…rather unexpected place, but it’s a place where Aemond and I would come to when we were kids. So it’s special.”

Aerion and Daenys share another quick glance before their eyes fall on your lap as you yank off the layer of your gown to show what you brought.

“This,” you continue to speak before they have the thought of interrupting and pick up a hand-carved wooden siren. “Is a siren your father carved me when he was a boy. He lacked a dragon so he picked up other talents, and whittling was one of them.”

You put the siren down and grab the heart-shaped book that holds songs and ballads in Valyrian. “This,” you move on to the book. “Is a rare book of ballads and songs he scoured the earth for because he knew how much I loved to sing in Valyrian, and well, he really liked it when I sang in our mother tongue.” You giggle and pass the book to Aerion since he’s more musically inclined than Daenys.

“And this,” you move on to the third thing made of glimmering gold and beautiful gems. “Is a circlet inspired by one of my favorite ancestors, Daenys the Dreamer. He,” you pause and draw in a deep breath to calm your racing heart—“he had this done like one Daenys wore in a drawing of her in one of the history books because he knew how much I looked up to her. It was after I had you, Aerion.”

Said man sits in silence for a moment and when he returns the book to your lap he quips, “expecting a girl?”

You smile bashfully. “Desired a girl, yes, but we were still rejoiced when we had you…he really did love you Aerion, and you too Daenys. He never got to meet you, but he loved you. He cared about you both,” you finally share what you came here to say as you put the circlet down to give them your attention.

“If he really did love us like you say,” Aerion cuts in while Daenys remains quiet—“he would have tried harder to make it back to us, but he fought and died. He left and died.”

You nod rapidly. “Yes. Yes, don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I was furious too? I was left widowed with three children. Newborn twins and an infant. I was mad too Aerion, because he died after he promised that it was just us in this world that mattered. Him and me…Me and him, but he left with only traces of him to haunt me.”

“Then perhaps he should have fought harder,” Aerion continues to be hard-headed as he pouts down at the surface beneath his feet.

“I…” you trail on with tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. “I was angry at my father once too. I forsook him because he left too. I carried that hate in my heart because I was betrayed by him and my mother. All I felt pulsing through me was my anger, so I know, I know some of that resentment you hold for your own father, but as someone who went through that, as someone who knew how much Aemond loved and cared for you both, I just want you to change your perspectives. Open your hearts and accept a little piece of him at least.”

“But,” Daenys’ sweet voice finally fills your ears. “He was a monster. You have your scar to prove it.”

“And you have a new part of the city to prove my sins,” you defend him by shedding light on your own wrongdoings. “He did bad things, yes, but I did too. Everyone who fought in that war did bad things, some worse than the others, but it was done. It doesn’t make him any less of your father. It doesn’t take away that he still loved you.”

“But you have your life to make up for it,” Aerion argues, making your eyes drift to him. “And you raised us. You were here and made sure that we did not only think of the bad parts when we thought of you. When I think about Aemond…I see the death, destruction, and pain he left behind.”

“Because,” you pause and drop your head to fiddle with the wooden siren. “That’s what you hear. That’s what they all say about him, but he was much more than that. He,” you laugh softly and with a fond smile. “He would watch you sleep to make sure you were breathing when you slept. He went out to make sure you found your dragon so you didn’t feel ostracized like he did. He was selfish, but that made his love that more passionate.”

“I wish…we had memories together,” Daenys whispers in such a way that can only be heard if you’re sitting next to her, so you barely catch what she said—“Not just words spoken by you and others. That’s why it makes seeing him as a monster easier because I can’t even dream of him. At least Aerion can cling onto that, but me…I only have his name and trinkets that have no meaning to me.”

You look at her with pity and you catch tears crawling out of her eyes, but she’s quick to wipe them away.

“I am sorry, my Sweet,” is all you can offer her besides the wooden siren he had made for you—“keep it. It was made by his own hands. It’s not him, but it’s something made by him.”

Daenys carefully takes the siren and looks at you with worry. “Are you sure?” She asks.

You nod and pat her hand. “Positive.”

With a faint smile, Daenys looks down at the hand-carved siren, assuring you without words that she will try to look at her father under a different light, leaving you to seek Aerion’s response to all this now.

“You can’t ask me to forgive him just like that,” Aerion says and tries to hide his quiver.

“Nor will I ask you to,” you reassure him as you take his hand in yours. “Just change your prescriptive.”

Aerion takes a deep breath and then shudders. “I’ll try.”

A relieved look unfurls on your face and you squeeze his hand. “That’s all I want. Monster to man.”

Aerion meets your gaze and shares a faint nod, causing you to raise your hand to stroke his cheek and look into his striking blue eyes for a second longer before you look away and watch the horizon with contentment just like you would so long ago.

Life has been hard. It is still hard sometimes, but you can admit that you know what peace means now. You’re not falling into any abyss. You know happiness, you can find it in every member of your family. You know love, and it’s true you miss so many people, but their loss is not like being pierced in the heart or getting it torn and shattered, it aches when you remember the good moments, but you’ve preserved through your agony and grief, and that’s your greatest achievement because you can love again. You can smile with your lips and your eyes, and you can enjoy the sun's warm embrace as it seems to shine just for you as you dip your feet in the sand and let the salty sea waves crash over your feet on the morning of the day you have to leave King’s Landing.

Everyone else is barely starting to stir awake because you made it your mission to get up as the sun was rising to find serenity by the sea before you left.

Albeit there is one presence who does join you in your moment of solitude, but they don’t announce themselves. They watch you from afar as the sun completely shines just for you, kissing your skin, and making your silver-white hair glimmer like untouched snowflakes on fields of snow.

They can’t see your face since they’re behind you, but they know you well, they can picture your blissful smile as clear as day as you take in the sun and welcome the cold touch of the water. Perhaps—no, this is the best part about departing from the North and visiting King’s Landing and or visiting Driftmark, they get to see you completely enamored by the sea as if you were a mythical creature parted from their home. It’s always breathtaking to see and be a part of it that they don’t want to move from where they are, but after a while of stillness, you’re the one who looks over your shoulder with your smiling gaze.

“Come. Join me,” you wave Cregan over and his lips show off a fascinated smile before he breaks away from his spot and joins your side unable to part his eyes away from your face.

“What?” You quiere with a giddy smile. “Will you dive with me this time? Just a few miles offshore. I swear it this time.”

Cregan’s smile softens and his eyes darken as his pupils dilate even bigger as you’re all that reflects over his gaze.

“You are and have always been my heart's keeper,” he interjects assertively and catches you off guard. “Everywhere you go my heart follows. Even in death, where the sea meets the edge of tomorrow.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you look as if this is the first time he’s ever made such a passionate confession, when in truth he has never stopped reminding you how much he loves you. Physically and with sweet and romantic words. You're the one who lacks in reminding him sometimes, but your heart has never faltered, it has only grown fonder.

“And you, are the reason I am here,” you now offer him a confession of your own filled with just as much passion. “You are the reason my heart beats and why I draw in air. You are my morning and evening star. My light and the color that forbids me from looking at the world in black in white. Everything about you fascinates me, from the inner markings of your soul to your stormful grey eyes.”

Cregan scoffs softly as he stands in disbelief, causing you to react by cradling his cheeks to close the space between you. He follows by wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pushing you to him to rest your foreheads against each other and just breathe in and be in each other's presence under the shining sun, and by the peaceful blue sea.

——

*SEVERAL YEARS LATER*

A loud gasp escapes your lips as your heart jolts and your eyes spring open. However, you’re quickly forced to shield your eyes from the blinding light that shines before you, letting your other senses take in your surroundings instead, like your ears, that catch the sound of louder chatter, laughter, and music in High Valyrian. Your nose also kicks in and you smell freshly made strawberry tarts, roasted pig, and every other traditional Valyrian food that you love.

But it’s weird because the last thing you remember is…getting swallowed by darkness. It was slightly terrifying, but you couldn’t resist its call, you let it take you…here…

You slowly pull your hand down and open your eyes, catching at that moment, the sight of your hands missing the wrinkles that once marked your skin to proudly show off how long you’ve lived. Now besides seeing the expensive and extravagant jewelry decorating your hands and fingers, you see that your hands look like they did when you were a young adult…

You would ask yourself why and start to panic, but as your surroundings come into focus you realize that you’re in a corridor you don’t recognize, but one still so familiar that doesn’t let you feel estranged. You feel at home like this is where you were meant to be the whole time. It’s why your jolting heart that had started to race calms down to a relaxed beat.

That’s not all, the bright light that once blinded you is not actually before you, but casting through the colorful stained glass set on the stone walls that all tell a story of…your Targaryen ancestors. Every major event that you read in books or got told is told on the glass, even the past you lived through.

You see a visual summary of the war, the dragons that fell, and the family that got torn apart. It’s there and as tempted as you are to walk to it to admire it from up close, the commotion coming from behind the tall doors ahead of you is more tempting, so you break away from the spot you woke up from, walk past grand stone dragon heads sitting at the sides of the doors, and without hesitation you push the doors open, catching sight of the beautiful lilac gown on your body made of your favorite silk from Yi-Ti, and catching sight of your long white-silver hair flowing past you with the swift movement.

Yet what does the sight of a beautiful gown and unique colored hair hold compared to what you see in front of you, the marvelous and breathtaking sight of so many different people, all whom you know in your heart have Targaryen and Velaryon blood running through them just like you. They’re all your family…every body and soul is your family that once lived…just like you…That’s right…you’re dead and now you’re…yet in another space you don’t recognize, but it doesn’t feel at all strange; not with the warm setting sun embracing your figure, or the sight of your family.

You could melt with all the heartwarming bliss you’re already filled with, however, before you can melt, the sound of your name breaks through the commotion, snapping your attention straight ahead.

Albeit you don't catch a thing. The sound of your name continues to be called though so you walk down the stairs and go toward the crowd. Before you can make an attempt to break through though, none other than Jacaerys and Lucerys come out, catching you off guard and paralyzing you right where you are.

“Jace,” you breathe out with your eyes set wide with bewilderment and fascination. “Luke.”

The pair look at one another with a teasing smile before they both offer you heart-warming smiles that you start to mirror as your eyes immediately brim with hot tears.

“Jace…Luke,” you call out again and then laugh, making them flash you a grin before they giggle too and set off toward you, causing you to break away from your spot and run at them. When you meet each other halfway you can’t contain your excitement, you jump on them and they don’t fail to catch you or laugh with you the moment you’re wrapped in each other's embrace.

Nothing is said when you’re tangled in each other's arms; no witty remark, and no funny joke, nothing is passed between you but a comfortable silence as the three of you take in the fact that you’re together again. After so much longing, you’re together again and nothing will tear you apart ever again.

“Mother!”

Your eyes snap open and ahead of you comes Alysanne; the girl who reintroduced you to an agonizing grief when she died after the birth of her first child. Following at her side is your eldest boy, your Aerion who died alongside his step-brother Rickon as they fought a war his cousin Daeron started against Dorne.

They were both gone from your life for so long. You mourned their death until your dying breath because losing children was a different and more painful heartbreak than you had felt before. Alas, there they are and every muscle in your body takes you to them right away.

“<My loves,>” you mewl in High Valyrian as you embrace the both of them the same way you embraced your brothers so you wouldn’t leave either of them out.

“<Mother,>” Alysanne cries as she's overcome with emotion. “It's been so long.”

“I’m here now my darling,” you console her as you rub her back. “I’m here.”

Alysanne nods, you can feel her head moving as she welcomes your comfort as if that’s what she’s been needing since she died.

“Oh,” you gasp and step back to turn around and face your brothers. “I’m assuming you know my brothers, your uncles. Jacaerys and Lucerys.”

“Yes, we do,” Aerion lets you know while Lucerys confirms with a nod.

“Don't worry we’ve been looking out for them since they got here,” Lucerys offers you some consolation, making you smile brightly.

“Not that we needed looking out for,” Alysanne quips. “But we’ve been together all this time. We hardly separate.” She says with the corner of her lips perking up.

“Because mother hardly lets them out of her sight,” Jacaerys interjects and your curiosity piques while every single thought becomes about her.

“Mother…” you mouth and let your children go to step forward and probe. “Where is she?”

Jacaerys’ eyes point forward, past the bodies of your children, so you turn around swiftly as if afraid your mother would disappear, and as if intertwined with each other's thoughts, the dancing crowd in front of you begins to drift away, making a path that leads you to the middle of the floor where your mother is under the twinkling candlelight.

She doesn’t spot you right away, it’s not until she probably feels you staring that she turns and steals your breath when your eyes lock together.

“Mama,” your voice quivers and your heart skips a beat as the commotion around you drowns out, the dancing light all over the room dims except for the lights above her, making her the center of all your attention, and making her beauty that much more enchanting to your eye.

Maybe it is because you haven’t seen her in so long, but something about her just glows.

“Mama,” you say again and start moving toward her with a wobbly smile tugging on your lips and tears flying past you.

Your mother doesn’t lack a reaction; her lips part slightly as her eyes glimmer at the sight of you. She doesn’t keep still either, the moment you make your way toward her she comes after you too, letting you meet in the middle of the hall with a tight embrace that connects your hearts and finally feeds that yearning they felt for each other's connection once again.

“<Oh my sweet,>” she coos as she cradles the back of your head and keeps you close.

“<Mama,>” you keep saying as you weep happy tears, feeling the world around you completely disappear, leaving only you and her in the large hall.

No more yearning and no need to strain your mind to remember how she looked or how she smelled. You’re together again, drawing in her calming scent, and basking in the comfort and warmth only she could provide.

You died an old lady, but here, now, with her and the others you’re the age you were mere days before the war started, that brief period where you were endlessly happy and you had it all; your brothers, your son, Aemond, and your mother.

“<We have all eternity together now,>” she assures you, making you beam and grip onto her tighter.

“<And I’m glad for it. Thank you for looking out for my children. Thank you for loving them while I was gone.>”

She scoffs softly. “<I would do it all for your children because they’re my grandchildren too, so there’s nothing to thank me for…you did good my sweet. I’m so proud of you.>”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck and pamper her with more tears.

“Someone’s been waiting for you,” she interjects, pulling you away from her to look her in the eyes, but not ask who because the moment those words leave her mouth, you think about one person. Thus without asking and without guidance of any guide you let her go and drift away from her to head toward the tall windows that decorate the massive stone walls.

The people around you make way for you without needing to be told, or at least you don’t care to excuse yourself because you’re so consumed by the thought of him; of seeing him, of touching him, and being in his arms again. So much so that when you finally make it past the sea of people and find him outside the window sitting on the roof and watching the sun go down, you stop breathing. Your heart feels like it stops beating and the entire world around you freezes except for him, Aemond.

Just like with your mother, there’s no need to say his name, he turns around and your eyes meet, making sparks fly, and reviving your heart. Whilst his jaw drops and his eyes widen while he slowly stands up.

When he starts moving, your legs move in unison, and after breaking every single barrier of space that was keeping you apart, you throw your arms around each other to bring each other as close as you can manage to be without being in each other's skin.

This time unlike the others there’s no words exchanged because no amount of words can explain how enthralled you both are for being reunited. The longing looks speak for themselves when you pull away at arm's length to take in the sight of each other. The matching breaths share how in sync you are, and the smile your faces hold share how connected your souls are.

Still, he gently cups your cheek, and you cradle his face, taking note that he looks the same age he was when you were the happiest; that moment in time before the war, where you had it all. He chose that moment too, leaving you both to be forever young.

“<Me and you,>” he mutters and pulls you toward him to crash his lips on your forehead.

“<You and me,>” you echo and smile tenderly as your heart feels forever content now.

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A/N- Lived to watch her family die and then outlived her younger brothers and two of her children…

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