#{ i used to be young | lyra }

[wyvernity]

sss day my favorite national holiday WOOOOHHHH

bonus

[silvermeww]

okay, when was someone going to tell me that

oh, idk, steven started at 19, burgh has a younger sister, clay actually isn't born american, skyla's whole fam thing and ELESA IS 15???? (even younger than skyla like wtf???)

(also the 'alder' at the bottom is supposed to be drayden lol)

and that's not all

say hello to:

viola being 18??? 'black whirlwind' korrina, RAMOS MEETING AZ'S FLOETTE AS A KID, genderfluid and apparently also age-fluid olympia, CLEMONT?? AND HIS WHOLE THING DOWN TO BEING 12 OF ALL AGES???

(you know what, marlon being 30 definitely makes sense with the hippie vibes)

wikstrom SAYING that he only wears that suit in pokemon battles but i've never seen his casual wear, malva being pr for flare lol, drasna selling dragon merch + great family lore if you want to know, siebold having to third-wheel lysandre and sycamore while eating (move aside malva, you're not the only elite 4 dealing with this) and 20?? YEARS OLD?? DIANTHA????????????

(way too many men in kalos are getting ladies, c'mon)

ethan being into history is such a neat detail hmmm, idk much of the frontier brains ngl, and we've finally got the region for looker and it's... hoenn??? you know what, makes sense with his chaotic vibes so i'll take it (throws away unova taped to a rock behind my back). also he's abolsutely cheating we all see that he's just relying on knowing us as protags, should've known smh

(um i think someone said that 'caitlin' should've been anabel but idk)

oh and the last one is charon, if we care about how much of a loser he really is. forget about birch and the poochyena, this guy is the lowest heh. imagine being charon (please don't).

(when the protags of johto are the same age as clemont lol) (yeah i know there are years between those events just let me have this)

and last but not least:

aaron 🤝 valerie: wanting to be pokemon (and ig gotta toss in shauntal with the ao3 writer gift heh, don't know if they would commission her or stay away), bertha's description???? i love flint just saying, cynthia 👀👀 is absolutely doing something illegal 👀👀, roark is WHAT??? (child labour laws in sinnoh must be lax ngl), maylene as well???? fantina watching scary movies is something i'll have to incorporate into my worldview and bryon?? are you okay??

so yeah. credit goes to @/KuroBlitz96 on the twitter/x for having this up, i'm just here to project sheer surprise at this massive dump of ages... my thoughts on pokemon have completely turned on its head once more lol (this is fine)

[revverencie]

thinking very hard abt the lore i came up w for lyra (my tav) and how it relates to her being in a relationship w astarion bc they both kind of come across as similar "flirty morally skewed but putting on a facade" types and it's what brings them together initially but their reasons for being like that are so different.

she sees being a social chameleon and manipulating people as a way to empower herself in a world that doesn't necessarily trust or respect her and she uses it as a way to assert her will and autonomy meanwhile his experience is almost the exact opposite. and i think that's part of why she goes along with the honestly obvious manipulation attempt (she has 17 charisma and he has 10. come on.) bc she percieves it as just like, something harmless to play along with and have fun until eventually they both actually develop feelings and he confesses and they are both like "oh fuck." anyway the moment she finds out anything about cazador i think she starts plotting his death before he even mentions it solely bc she doesn't think that anyone who wants that much power over people should live.

[potted-cilantro]

Making my fav OC's color palate purple again nature is FUCKING healing

[evebeforethefall]

sometimes i can’t help but think about lyra after the main trilogy ends. of course, we are in that long wait for the book of dust volume 3 and therefore there’s still so much we don’t yet know (i know we have the novellas also).

the secret commonwealth gives us an insight into the level of self-destruction that lyra takes on during the time back in oxford and her taking to more radical academic texts and the further divide with pan is all intertwined.

i like to think that those texts sort of brought her closer to her mother’s way of thinking - not quite finding faith or catholicism but becoming so obsessed (i guess) in finding the answers to those unsolved questions that it drives her inward and away from pan. i headcanon that the frustration towards her inability to read the alethiometer as easily as before leads her to strive for answers to the universe in more radical ways.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Got this question and I can share about my tattoo! Initially, I wanted a tattoo from the Golden Compass. That book series shaped my views so heavily and I’ve always adored it. My first thought was to get the alethiometer on my hand.

Those familiar with tattoos will know immediately why that was such a bad idea but the first artist I met with cautioned that the design would need to be huge to get clarity and hand tattoos fade quickly. He advised me to think of something else that might call to the books.

After noodling on it for a long time I decided I wanted my daemon. Lyra and Roger go down into the crypts and see the skulls of scholars. Inside the empty bones are coins with images of their daemons carved on the face.

So I knew I wanted a daemon coin. My daemon walks in my heart but I always felt like a gryphon suited me best, halfway between a cat and a bird. I’d put him on my leg so she could walk with me.

I found an artist I liked but she was booked out for a year. She specialized in scientific illustrations and abstract line work, both of which were stunning.

I decided to check back when she was accepting new business but to my surprise she had up and moved to Salt Lake City. I asked, if I flew out to get a tattoo, how soon could you see me? Within a month was the answer. So I bought tickets for my beloved and I to fly to SLC for a day, just for this tattoo.

We stayed in an adorable cottage and felt wildly unsafe in the heavily religious city, but we still had a nice trip. We went to the Tracy Aviary. I had my first meal at Benihana. We got followed and yelled at when we held hands. But we also had a young girl approach us when I wore my Space Lesbians shirt to tell me how much it meant to her to see other queers in her city.

The artist I was working with hadn’t shown me a drawing before I’d arrived. I’d asked for a crude gryphon etched into a coin. What she showed me when I arrived was a goofy cartoon gryphon offset in a circle. I broke out in a sweat and I still look back on her lack of communication poorly. I’m sure she had her own reasons for not sharing the design but it wasn’t what I had asked for.

She was clearly frustrated when I balked but went away to rework his face to be more realistic. When she came back I was much happier. He still had cartoonishly big feet but honestly, I’m a bit of a goober with big feet too, and it felt appropriate with the new face.

My beloved got their ear pierced at the same shop, and we went away happy. I love my tattoo and it made me feel beautiful in a way that didn’t come off at the end of the night.

When I gained weight with my long illness I was worried he’d warp and look ugly, but I think he still looks nice. He just gained weight with me.

[hugmekenobi]

Heal

A Bad Batch Post S3 Oneshot

Gif by @barissoffee

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: Shaking the effects of Tantiss is easier said than done

Warnings: Literally one use of (Y/N), swearing, hints of Tech/Phee, references to past pain and torture, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares and trouble sleeping, descriptions of illness (headaches), reader is hard on herself, suggestive dialogue, light PDA (kissing, teasing touches), mentions of food, me making up what everyone is up to on Pabu, fluff and happy ending

Masterlist for S1, S2 and S3

Word Count: 7.2K

Rating: 18+

Author's note: Okay, not gonna lie, I struggled with this one. It was a last minute idea as I was rewatching and writing the final few episodes of season 3 but it worked and felt a lot better in my head and when it came to writing, my brain was not my friend lol. I hope it's still enjoyable! The next oneshot is the story I've had planned for months so that should be a smoother process haha

It had been a few weeks since you’d all taken up official residence in Pabu.

Shep’s offer of setting up homes for you all stayed true.

You and Hunter had been put in a hut perfectly designed for the two of you that was a short walk away from the water and there was even a spare room for Omega who alternated between sleeping in your home and the home Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker all shared.

The three other clones may have been grouped together but there was plenty of room, and not a lot of time was spent indoors anyway.

Wrecker had taken to fishing like, well, like a fish to water.

Crosshair did a bit of everything, helping out with tasks of whoever needed assistance but he mainly he kept up with practicing shooting with his left hand. He wanted the practice, and he genuinely enjoyed it. He didn’t miss being a soldier anymore but that didn’t mean he had to renege on his skills.

Tech spent much of his time with Phee or assisting Shep in rebuilding parts of Pabu that still needed it and upgrading equipment.  

Omega often kept close company with Lyana and the other young reg clones or she went off with Tech to plan out a potential search for lost or salvageable pieces of the Marauder- the two of them had dreams of rebuilding new a ship with as many pieces of their old home as possible. It was yet to be undertaken but the vision was there.

The task of reuniting the children from Tantiss with their families had been successful but with that final mission complete, you and Hunter were also in the same boat as Crosshair and still yet to find your official niche on island. For now, you both were just relishing in the peace and each other’s company.

One thing you had managed to achieve was finding a way to finally get in touch with Lyra again, who- despite being filled in on everything that had happened since you parted ways on Christophsis- still managed to scold you for the lack of communication. But after hearing you all were alive and settled, she’d sent you all packages of more suitable island clothes with promises to visit soon.

Everything was coming together and so you were feeling one with the island life.

However, life here was not without its challenges.

The impact and aftermath of Tantiss remained a constant shadow that would still find ways to rear its ugly head. Something you and Hunter in particular found yourselves dealing with.

--

“I figured we could have the party in the next couple of weeks right here in the colonnade and, I don’t know, you could slip away or…” Shep trailed off as he saw the way Hunter’s brow furrowed in pain.

“Uh huh.” Hunter agreed distantly. He didn’t want to ignore Shep, especially when he was doing him the favour, but fuck had the sun always been this bright? The blinding pain behind his eyes and throbbing in his skull was getting harder to dismiss.  

You were a casual observer and listener to the conversation between the young reg clones and the adult clones that had remained on the island- Deke, Stak and Mox had no shortage of questions for them. But you sensed a rising discomfort and then you caught the way Hunter kept pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting to get away from the glare of the warm sun. “Excuse me.” You politely removed yourself from the conversation and hurriedly walked over to where Shep and Hunter were conversing. “Shep, I’m sorry to interrupt but do you mind if I steal him away for a moment?”

“Not at all.” Shep bid the two of you farewell with a smile.

You lightly rested a hand on his upper arm. “Hunter? Another flare up?” You figured, keeping your worried voice quiet.

Hunter just about managed a nod and said through gritted teeth, “But I can wait it out. Shep-”

He would attempt to come up with an excuse every time and every time you wouldn’t even entertain it. “Come on.” You carefully wrapped an arm around him and guided him back home.

--

You opened the door and carried on through to the bedroom. You gently prompted him to sit on the bed as you knelt down and took his shoes off before you shut the bedroom window to cancel out the noise outside and closed the blinds to keep the sunlight out. You kept your voice low and monotone as you instructed him, “Lie down.”

Hunter did as you said and rested on his back.

The routine was second nature to you. He hadn’t had headaches like this for a while but since Tantiss and because of what he’d suffered there, they’d become more frequent. His senses hadn’t quite readjusted back to what they used to be.

You moved silently throughout the house as you went to the freezer and came back with the cold compress you stored specifically for these moments and placed it over his eyes. “I’ll just be in the living room if you need anything. Try to sleep.” You whispered caringly before you lightly squeezed his hand and made to leave. However, you had barely stepped away from the bed when Hunter’s hand caught your wrist.

“Stay.” He requested through a wince.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you.” You cautioned quietly. You had remained a couple times before, but it had never been a certainty that he wanted you to stay when he was going through this. You always waited for him to give the okay.

“You can’t.” He murmured. He needed you here to ground him in a way the usual methods could never do.

You removed your own shoes and supported his back as you sat him up and slotted yourself behind him.

Hunter rested his head against your chest.

You readjusted the compress slightly once you were both in a comfortable position. “This okay?” You asked as you softly massaged each of his temples.

Hunter let out a tranquil sigh and he could already feel the discomfort receding. You always knew just what it was he needed from you in these moments. “Perfect.”

--

Hunter wasn’t the only one still feeling the lingering toil of Tantiss. Your screams of terror and the way you thrashed next to him woke him up. He called your name and shook your arm to wake you up. “Hey, hey. Easy, easy. It’s alright.” He assured you as he saw your eyes widen in fear.

You shot awake and hastily sat up, your breathing hard and uneven.

“You’re okay. I’m here.” Hunter whispered soothingly as he sat up alongside you.

You closed your eyes and let his voice be the only thing you focused on.

“You’re alright. It was a bad dream.”

Right yes, a bad dream.

“Hold on.” Hunter pressed his lips to your clothed shoulder before he got out of bed and ran a cloth under some cold water.

You worked on getting your breathing back under control. You ran a hand over your face and felt the beads of sweat dripping down your temples and down your neck and back. Your sleep top was sticking to you uncomfortably. But you forced yourself to concentrate on anything that didn’t remind you of the nightmare you’d just escaped. You took in your secure and familiar surroundings of your bedroom to calm yourself down. You weren’t back there. You were on Pabu with Hunter. You were safe here.  

Hunter slid back in bed beside you. “Arms up.” He prompted delicately. When you did that, he carefully removed your sweat soaked top and tossed it to the side of the bed– he’d deal with it in the morning- and placed the cool cloth to the back of your neck and spine before he tenderly dabbed at your temples. He then put a replacement top back over your head and continued to press the flannel around your forehead and neck.

“I’m sorry.” You rasped as you hid your face in your palms in embarrassment. You hated this. He would already have tough days and you couldn’t even offer him any relief in the evenings. The two of you had gotten into a rather unfortunate ritual where you would comfort him during the day and then the roles would switch as soon as night fell.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Hunter reassured you lovingly. He placed the cloth on the bedside table and rubbed his hand up and down your back to ease away the lingering tension and to help settle you back down. “Same one?” He guessed.

You nodded but kept your face hidden from him. “I’m just standing there. I’m watching him hurt you over and over again and I’m not doing anything to stop it.” You said, your voice cracking with each word. “Then he goes to the rest of you- to Omega. I’m completely frozen and all I can do is watch you all writhe in pain. I keep fighting to move but nothing happens. I’m just so useless and I stand by and let it happen. You’re crying out for help, and I just stand there.” You whispered with plenty of self-loathing behind your words.

Hunter shushed you consolingly. “But that’s not what happened. It’s just the nightmare talking.”

“Is it? Because it feels an awful lot like that’s what I did.” You said with self-directed disgust.

““You didn’t do nothing. You didn’t give up. You did what you thought you needed to do to get us out of there alive.” Hunter reminded you.

“Imprisoned.” You corrected.

“Alive.” Hunter countered.

You knew there was no sense in arguing with him over it. “I should be over this by now. I coped after Christophsis. I don’t know why this is sticking with me so much.” You said critically instead.

Hunter was all too familiar with this line of argument. As soon as you admitted to the nightmare and the fear it brought, you started looking for ways to berate yourself for feeling the way you were. “You couldn’t process Christophsis on your own time. You were in a position where you were forced to carry on. And I don’t think going through and being impacted by torture has a time requirement.”

You finally half-turned to face him. “Do you really believe that?”

The doubt in your voice made his throat constrict and chest tighten. “I know it.”

“But dealing with this is annoying.” You mumbled self-consciously and you averted your gaze once more.

“Do you get annoyed when you’ve needed to help me?”

You lifted your eyes back to him. “No, of course not.”

“Exactly. You help me through those episodes. Why do you think I’d treat you any differently?” He rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone. “You still need to give yourself the same treatment you give other people.” He said caringly.

You leaned your head against Hunter’s shoulder and just gave a series of reluctant but agreeable noises to signal your acceptance of his statement.

“You’re talking to me though. That counts for something.” Hunter praised, angling his head so he could kiss your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m a work in progress.” You managed to say with some light-heartedness before your voice went solemn again. “Just don’t give up on me… please.”

“Never.” Hunter promised with steadfast seriousness.

Your eyes flickered shut and you snuggled closer to him as he ran his hand up and down your arm in soft, delicate patterns.

“Want to sleeping try again?” He suggested after he felt your breathing and pulse settle back down.

You gulped but agreed to give sleep another go. “Okay.” You laid back down readjusted the covers you had kicked off in your sleep-panicked state. You breathed deeply as you closed your eyes and willed yourself to at least get a couple uninterrupted hours. But the darker part of your nightmare, the part you couldn’t vocalise, lingered with you and you didn’t know how to get past it.

Hunter wrapped his arm around your side and pulled your back tight to his chest, but despite all you opened up about, he knew you were holding something back. It was the same every night and he knew sleep would continue to elude you.

--

This new day was nearly over. Dusk had come and gone but the concept of night and sleep filled you with a deep anxiety. You needed to clear your head before you even thought about winding down for the night. “I’m going for a walk; I’ll be back soon.” You said, giving Hunter a chaste kiss to his lips before you exited your home.

Hunter gave you a slight smile as you parted from him, and he could only watch you leave. He had never felt so helpless.

He knew he couldn’t quite help you in the way you needed but there might be someone else who could.

--

“Hey there, Hunter.” Phee greeted cheerily as she opened the door to greet the clone.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” Hunter asked apologetically.

Phee rolled her eyes, “Pfftt no way. He’s been at this for hours, if you can get his attention onto something else, be my guest.”  She led him through to the living room.

Tech grunted his greeting as he sought out the tool that he needed for the task he was completing for Shep. The island had a healer- Dalia, but she mainly operated out of her home because, until recently, that suited just fine. But when the attack on Pabu occurred, Shep and Dalia had found themselves ill-prepared for accommodating the seriousness of the injuries that followed so Tech was assisting in expanding and updating her equipment and resources. AZ was already a big help with that, but more was needing done. It was a longer but important project that Tech was taking very seriously.

 “Sorry about the mess.” Phee said with an annoyed yet affectionate stare in Tech’s direction, but she was not surprised when the clone did not appear to even register that she’d spoken. She had stopped trying to get Tech to tidy as he went about altering this latest piece of machinery since he’d insistently claimed there was an order to the chaos around him. The entire area in which he was working was covered with random tools and intricate pieces of machinery. Phee struggled to see how this all equalled a system since all she saw was an array random pieces of metal taking up her living room floor. It didn’t truly bother her though; it was just another quirk she was fond off. Her appreciation for his intelligence and passion outweighed a little untidiness.

“Don’t worry, it’s something I’m very used to.” Hunter said lightly as he carefully stepped over some discarded screws.

“Sit down.” Phee encouraged, gesturing to a spare chair as she took a seat on the couch across from where Tech was working in the middle of the floor. But when Hunter made no move to do so, Phee properly looked at him and she noticed the distant and slightly nervous expression Hunter donned. “Everything alright?”

“I need your help, Tech.” Hunter said in answer.

Tech spoke for the first time since Hunter arrived as he found the spanner he needed, “I’m not yet finished with this. Once I’m done-”

“I don’t need you to fix anything, Tech. It’s about (Y/N). She’s struggling right now and-”

“Well, we know that she has a habit of taking things on by herself. A habit both of you have shared for quite a while.” Tech said plainly, not taking his eyes off the medical equipment he was fixing up. “I wouldn’t take her refusal or dismissals personally.”

Hunter bit back his frustrated huff. He knew attempting to get his brother’s focus when he was so absorbed by a project was always going to be challenging. He went to speak again but Phee beat him to it.

Enough was enough. Phee firmly nudged Tech’s good thigh with her boot, “Would you stop playing around with that and actually pay attention to what he has to say?”

Tech snapped out of his intense concentration. “Right, yes. Sorry, Hunter.” He started officially packing up. Once he was done, he gave his brother his full attention and it was then that he saw the genuine worry on Hunter’s face which told him it was more important than any mechanical repair. “What’s going on with her?”

“She keeps having nightmares from her capture on Tantiss. I can’t remember the last time she slept through the night.” Hunter took a ragged breath. “And it’s not like she’s keeping them to herself and that’s why they’re so bad. She’s doing everything we’ve worked on. She talks to me; she lets me in and help her, but I know there’s something else she’s keeping hidden. And it’s because she knows I can’t offer her the right words, or she wants to protect me from whatever it is she’s not telling me. I’m stuck and she’s not getting any better and I can’t offer her anything more than what I’m currently doing.”

“So, how exactly can I help?” Tech asked, rather puzzled as to why his brother had come to him with this dilemma. He wasn’t exactly known for providing helpful assistance for this type of issue. It wasn’t that he never wanted to, it just always didn’t come easily to him and usually you and Hunter would always be able to work through it yourselves.

Hunter began tentatively, “Y-your experiences were- were similar. I’d thought about Crosshair but what he went through was a bit different and from what you’ve told us, it sounds closer to what she’s been through. I hate to ask it of you but-”

“Where is she?” Tech asked, getting to his feet.

“If you’re not comfortable doing this I understand. It’s a lot to talk about and-”

“Hunter, just tell me where she is.” Tech interrupted with a firm reassurance to show that he truly didn’t mind.

“Down by the shore.” Hunter told him through a grateful sigh.  

Tech nodded and got ready to leave for the beach.

--

You breathed in the fresh and clean sea air, a gentle breeze wafted through your hair. The moonlight cast the water and sand in a luminous white glow. It offered you a peace you were yet to find in your own mind. The faint but demanding whines of the hound you’d acquired on your walk down had you smiling to yourself as you focused on the sounds of the waves lapping on the shore.

Tech saw you seated on the sand, Batcher waiting for you to throw a stick for her. “Did you know that gravity and the gravitational pull of the moon creates a phenomenon called tidal force, which is what causes the ocean tides to change?”

“I mean… I knew it was something like that.” You straightened your shoulders and managed a tight smile in his direction. “Hey, Tech.” You hoped you didn’t sound as exhausted as you felt.

Tech picked up on the heaviness in your voice despite your attempts to conceal it. “Also, did you know that water absorbs the red light of the colour spectrum, leaving the blue for us to see.” He added as he threw the stick for the hound.

You hummed out your acceptance of the fact as a reply whilst Batcher returned the stick but- after greeting Tech- decided she’d had enough and curled up beside you. “You didn’t come here to share ocean facts, Tech.” You said after a moment. “What’s going on?”

“You’re right. I have another purpose in joining you.” Tech admitted as he sat down on your other side.

“Which is?” You asked leadingly.

“Hunter asked me to. He’s worried about you.” He gave you a chance to speak but you offered nothing, so he carried on, “From what I hear, you’re having difficulty sleeping due to nightmares. They are based around your confinement on Tantiss?”

You cleared your throat to buy yourself some time before you answered, “Yeah.” You brought your knees to your chest.

“Can you tell me more? Whatever you’re comfortable sharing is fine.”

You breathed deeply and peered up at the starry night sky. “Well, you know about Christophsis.”

Tech nodded. That was something he’d been told about on the shuttle back.

“Tantiss… Tantiss was different. I took beatings but they were a treat compared to that fucking droid. Hemlock did a much better job of getting the most out of that damn serum. It got harder and harder to fight it. He knew exactly what buttons to push.”

“I’m afraid I had a helping hand in that.” Tech said sheepishly.

You placed your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t blame you, Tech. Not at all.” You reassured him earnestly.

“Regardless, his methods would’ve been that effective because I told him what would work.”

You patted his shoulder to indicate that you really didn’t hold any of that period against him before you removed it and placed it back across your bent legs. You surprisingly found that you kept wanting to talk so you carried on, “I’d never be able to ignore him, he’d always be able to get in my head so, instead, I’d would look for things to take me out of it.”

“A reasonable response.” Tech agreed. The times when he’d resisted, he’d acted similarly.

You felt irritation rise in you. You’d been weak, how could he not see that? “He told me you were alive, and I used it as a way to keep pushing back against him. Omega didn’t doubt it and she only heard him say it once.”

Hunter had warned him about this before he’d left. He expected you to say things designed to make him reprimand you instead of sympathising with you. The part of ‘no emotion’ element of the Jedi Code was deeply engrained in you. Despite your affinity for handling attachment and genuine love for them, when it came to your own emotions, you had gotten a bit too good at supressing or dismissing them. “Years fighting in a war has a way of creating a certain cynicism- or realism- depending on your point of view. It helps with survival and enduring each battle. I may have gotten out of it but even I have to admit that the odds were slim. I called out the plan. I knew what I was doing, I didn’t expect to live, and I didn’t expect you all to assume that I had.” Tech easily explained away the argument. “I’m grateful for Omega’s optimism and hope- it is a wonderful quality of hers and it got me out of there and brought me back to you all-, but I never expected you to believe I lived.”

You couldn’t accept the fact that the people around you were okay with how you’d acted. Every night was a painful reminder of how you’d failed them. “What I don’t understand is why Tantiss is still affecting me in this way. I got over Christophsis just fine.”

“No, you didn’t process Christophsis. You were thrown into mission after mission and were left with no choice but to keep going. It is highly plausible that Hemlock’s own similar torture was harder to get through because it was a reminder of a traumatic time that you’d already experienced but not healed from. Plus, I don’t believe feeling the effects of torture has a time requirement.”

You sighed heavily, “You’re the second person to tell me all that.”

“Does that not tell you something?” Tech prodded but he did it gently.

“I guess.” You said through a weary sigh as you ran your hands through the sand to distract yourself. “I handed myself over to Hemlock though. I gave up.”

“The guilt you’re experiencing over agreeing to Hemlock’s terms is natural. You-”

“It wasn’t guilt. Not wholly.” You said, your voice so quiet it barely registered over the rhythmic lull of the waves.

Tech glanced at you in surprise, but you were keeping your head down, stroking Batcher’s snout- the dog seemed to sense your distress and had nuzzled closer to you. He allowed the silence to grow as he patiently awaited further explanation from you.  

You swallowed thickly as you went to speak again. “I was relieved.” You admitted, it was the first time you’d ever said the words out loud, and you instantly wished you could take them back. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you awaited the disappointed and shameful remarks from Tech.

“What were you relieved about?” Tech asked calmly.

That hadn’t been the response you were expecting. “Um-” You searched for the words to answer him. “When I was-” You broke off and started again and you found yourself being more honest than you’d anticipated. “When I was in that training room watching Hunter be tortured and I heard Hemlock say that he was going to do the same conditioning to Crosshair again and to Wrecker too… I gave him what he wanted. Throughout my time there, he wanted me to join him and that’s what I was prepared to do. But as I said it, there was a sense of relief. Finally, I could stop fighting him. The torture he put me through would end. And in the dream- nightmare- I keep having, as much as I hate what’s happening, part of why I can’t move to help any of you is because I’m just relived it isn’t me.” You visibly tensed as you finished speaking. Saying that last part out loud caused you physical pain and your stomach churned nervously as you waited for judgement. There had been a reason you couldn’t share this with Hunter. It sounded so selfish, so pathetic.

“I understand that.”

You angled your head to face him. It was your turn to wait for him to talk.

Tech took a grounding breath before he elaborated, “In my time imprisoned there, Hemlock wanted to know all he could about you all. He knew there would be a time where he’d have to face you all again. I didn’t quite experience the same beatings you took; it was always psychological. But whenever I showed willing to give him information, all I felt in that moment was a profound relief that the torment and pain would end. Granted, that swiftly became guilt as soon as he left but I couldn’t deny the respite those few minutes of me telling him about you all gave me. Now, did you only feel relief at it being over? Or was it relief that you could join him and do his bidding?”

You thought back to that time and realised what he was getting at. “No, it was because I knew if I gave him what he wanted, then at least they wouldn’t have to go through any more agony. At the time, imprisonment felt like the better option than becoming one of his operatives and experiencing that level of hurt.”

“Precisely. Your sleep is being haunted by the worst outcome. It’s praying on the flash of relief you felt and twisting it into something more than what it was. If you accept what happened and stop fighting it, it loses its power. You didn’t do anything wrong, you acted how you needed to. The only person that has the power to blame you is yourself. No one here does, sometimes it just helps to hear it out loud once in a while and it’s true. You resisted him for as long as you physically could. Those circumstances would’ve cracked anyone.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “Is that how you did it?” You asked quietly.

“Well, I didn’t. Not always.” Tech reminded you, assuming you were referring to how he resisted Hemlock’s torment.

“No.” You released another deep sigh. “You seem to have settled here. You’re coping with it, and you were there for a long time.”

“I was in hell on Tantiss but not so much anymore. Being reunited with you all has really helped. Though I think if I had to watch any of them get hurt the way you had to, it would be different.” As he spoke, Tech realised why Hunter had come to him for this. He was sharing this part of him with you because he knew you were the only one that would truly get it. There was no worry of judgement, no worries of saying something too jarring. You would understand him just as he understood you. “I’ve accepted what happened to me and how I reacted to it but you’re the only one that knows those particular details of my experience. Phee and my brothers do not. Family helps with some of the burden but until you’ve had the unfortunate time of living it, their support can only do so much. We need each other it would seem.” Tech said with a kind look in your direction.

You widened your eyes at his openness. You were incredibly touched by that, and you didn’t take the lightly. “Thank you, Tech.”

“You asked a question, I merely answered.”

You shot him a look, “That’s not the only thing I’m thanking you for.” After speaking to him and fully unburdening yourself to someone who could only understand where you were coming from without the worry of saying the wrong thing or being too much, you felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You weren’t plagued by all the horrible and conflicting feelings that had followed you since Tantiss. You could breathe. You were free. You gently squeezed his hand as you said, “Thank you for what you’ve done tonight. For all of it.”

Tech shrugged off the thanks but smiled at you all the same. “We’re family, it’s what we do.”

--

You walked through the door to your home and took your shoes off.

Hunter walked out of the bedroom as he heard you come through the door. “Hey, how was your walk?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you just drank him in. You took in the way he leaned against the doorway, the book he was reading dangling from his hand. The way the soft linens of his sleep clothes framed his body. The way he’d still kept and worn the necklace you’d given him all that time ago. And the way he was looking at you with such deep care and affection, it made your heart clench and emotions clog up in your throat- you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

Hunter took your silence for upset. “I had to tell him. I thought-” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence as you strode towards him and embraced him.

You hugged him tightly. “Thank you.” You whispered.

Dropping his book and wrapping his arms around you instantly, Hunter rested his cheek on top of your head. He didn’t need or expect you to share the details of the conversation with Tech, he’d realised that you needed a different kind of comfort and that was okay. All that mattered to him was that it helped you.

You let the warmth of his soothing hold flow through your body, and you kept your voice hushed as you said, “I want you to know that it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you it all.”

“I know.” Hunter replied softly as he caringly caressed your back. He would not break away until you wanted to.

You pressed your face into the crook of his shoulder. Even though he had sent Tech your way, you didn’t want him to feel like he’d let you down or anything along that vein. “You did everything right. I needed you there… I still need you there. I can’t get through it without you but…” The words to describe just what it was Tech gifted you got lost and you frantically searched for them so he would know why you hadn’t just come to him with it.

The last thing Hunter needed or wanted was you feeling like you had to reassure him on the issue. “Sweetheart, all I wanted was for this to get easier for you. I know that there are emotions and parts of that experience on Tantiss that I will never fully understand- as much as that kills me, I wish none of it had happened to you or Tech in the first place but that doesn’t change the fact that it did. You needed more than a shoulder to lean on, and if Tech gave you that, then that’s all that matters to me. I won’t stop being there, whatever it is you need, I’m here.”

The wave of emotion came rushing back and tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you found yourself pressing yourself tighter to him still so there were absolutely no gaps between you. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I love you, giving up is never an option.” Hunter murmured as he kissed the crown of your head.

“I love you too.” You croaked as you fought through the lump in your throat.

You stayed like that for a couple more minutes before you finally pulled away.

Hunter wiped away a few stray tears that had escaped your eyes. “Fancy an early night?”

“Yeah.” You said through a deep exhale as the exhaustion you’d been fighting with came crashing into you. “That sounds good.”

--

3 weeks later.

“How’s your pain? Anymore headaches?” You asked Hunter as the two of you wandered arm in arm through the main square. You had been keeping a watchful eye in the time that had passed but he hadn’t had any bad episodes of late.

“Everything feels back to normal.” Hunter replied. “And you? How are you sleeping these days?” From what he could tell, you were sleeping through the night but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t still there.

“No nightmares at all.” You said with a relieved sigh. The weight of what you’d endured was no longer keeping you down. It had no control over you anymore. You’d thrown yourself back into mediating again and that also seemed to help a lot.

You both walked in easy silence, smiling at the clones from Tantiss who had stayed and at the merchants shouting out enticing deals and offerings from their stalls as you passed by.  

“Although, there’s one thing I need…”

You glanced at him expectantly.

“Can you try it now? I should be fine.”

You hadn’t done it since settling down here in case it was too much. “You’re sure?” You double checked.

Hunter nodded. It was the final step to the normality that he craved.

You both paused and headed over to the side walkway of the colonnade that offered shelter from the open area. You reached out into his familiar Force signature, the connection you formed with it giving you an extra sense of security and warmth. How does this feel?

Hunter closed his eyes and breathed out a serene sigh as he heard your voice in his head, but it felt like everything finally clicked back into place. Then, he felt the gentle press of your lips against his. He reacted automatically and placed his hands on your waist as he returned the embrace.

“What was that for?” He whispered against your lips as you parted.

“It’s part of the check up process.” You murmured before you took half a step back to look at him properly, but you kept your arms looped around his neck so that he was still close to you.

Hunter gave you a fond smile. “Ah, of course.” He sweetly stroked his thumb along your jawline.

You shut your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“Are you happy?” Hunter asked after a few beats of silence.

You dropped your arms and looked at him in surprise. “Yes, of course I am!” You looked at him, worry furrowing across your brow. “What brought that on?”

Hunter awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “I know things haven’t been easy since we arrived here. It didn’t get off to the peaceful start that I’d hoped for. I just want to make sure it’s still what you want and that you’re definitely feeling better.”

You were caught off guard by the emotions that caught in your throat. What did you do to deserve such a man? “I am very content and happy here; Hunter.” You took a hold of each of his hands. “I’m very content and happy being here with you.” You let out a faint, slightly embarrassed laugh, “I am very much in love with you, you silly man. Every day that I wake up beside you, every day that I get to come home to you and every day I just get to be around you is a day that reminds me that how lucky I am.” You removed your hands and lightly followed the lines of his face tattoo. “Are you happy?”

“Completely.” Hunter murmured as his eyes fluttered shut as he fell completely complaint under your touch.

“Good. Settling down here is what exactly what I want, things just weren’t settling down as quickly as I would’ve liked but it’s different now. We’re both doing much better, it’s a good thing.” You kissed his cheek and delicately brushed your fingers through the shorter strands of hair at the front of his head. I love you, that’s never changed, and it never will. Does that about cover everything?

“Almost.” Hunter said huskily as his own love for you overcame him.

Before you could question what he meant, he tugged you in tight to him and kissed you passionately. You felt him cradle the hinge of your jaw, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss and you granted him access without a second thought. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pressed yourself close to him. You allowed yourself a few minutes to just get lost in the pleasure he was giving you, but you remembered where you were and with a groan, you withdrew from his embrace.

It hurt you to pull away and from the way Hunter just insistently pushed you back against the stone column and carried on kissing and raking his teeth along your neck, he wasn’t impressed with stopping either. “We- we came here for groceries.” You hummed distractedly as you found yourself titling your head to give him easier access.

“So, we’ll get them tomorrow.” Hunter responded simply as he kissed behind your ear and brushed his fingers under your shirt and along the soft skin of your stomach.

“We have- have no f- food and-” You attempted to protest but now his mouth was doing wonderful things along your pulse point that was making you feel very lightheaded.

“That’s fine. What I’m in the mood for, only you can give me.” Hunter teasingly dipped his fingers just under the waistband of your leggings.

You forced yourself to get a grip before you were too far gone. “Get off.” You playfully shoved at his chest with an exasperated shake of your head.

Hunter inclined his head in surrender, “How about you shop, and I meet you at home?” He offered as he stopped his teasing and removed himself from you.

“Is this your bizarre way of just wanting to get out of a chore?” You joked, crossing your arms and feigning irritation.

“No, I just think that if I stay, we’re going to wind up getting done for public indecency and it would be entirely my fault.”

Despite his admission, you still saw a faint but lustful glint in his eyes and you knew he was envisioning precisely what would happen if the two of you remained by this column. And you knew both of you would decide it was worth the risk. You gulped as you hastily said before you lost control of yourself, “I’ll see you at home.”

Hunter released a low chuckle before he kissed you softly once more, the promise of what was to come still lingered behind the action despite his best attempts to keep it brief.

You took a few hesitant steps away him and then gathered yourself and went about your task- your walk brisker than before.

--

Hunter watched you before he moved out from the shelter of the pillar. He spotted Omega sitting with Lyana by the Maya tree. He called over to her.

“What’s up?” Omega asked breezily as she jogged over to him.

“Can you round up the boys and meet me at home? I’ll get Echo on comms.”

“How come?” Omega asked curiously.

“There’s a mission I’m gonna need all your help with. But it needs to just be the five of us.” He indicated to where you were making a purchase. “Think you can get Lyana to delay her return?”

“A mission? Then why can’t-” An excited gasp left her as she saw the silent but confirming look that Hunter gave her. They’d all been eagerly waiting for this. “Yes! I’m on it!” She sprinted off back to Lyana, chaotically relaying the instructions before she ran go find the others.

Hunter laughed to himself as he saw her enthusiastic departure before he hustled off back home and readied the comm channel for Echo. It didn’t take long for the clone to answer.

“You better be calling for the reason I hope you’re calling for.” Echo said by way of greeting.

“Think you can help me out?” Hunter replied with a validatory nod at the holoimage of Echo and he saw the way Echo’s shoulders lifted as he realised it was finally going to happen. Hunter had talked to them all about it in the days after arriving on Pabu and it had been met with an enthusiastic yet somehow still teasing response. It reminded him of how he felt back before the two of you officially got together, with the others just waiting for it to happen. He’d wanted to do it sooner, but your circumstances changed, and so he wanted to wait until both of you were recovered. And, whilst they’d all accepted his decision to hold off, they had been impatient for this day for both genuine well-being purposes but also because they wanted it for the two of you- his family were very supportive and insistent on him doing this. With things faring better, he felt comfortable doing it now. “I don’t want to take you away from anything urgent or-”

“Name it!” Echo said with a pleased smile.

Before he could get into what he needed Echo to do, he heard the door open. Hunter half-turned to see the crowd of eager and motivated faces made up of Omega and his brothers.  

All of them gathered round him and Echo’s hologram.

Hunter took a deep inhale and exhale. In a strange way, this was going to be one of the most important yet daunting missions he’d undertaken. “Alright, we don’t have long before she gets home. Here’s what I need…”

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @notgonnaedit, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @allthingsimagines , @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff , @qvnthesia @justsomerandompersonintheworld

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[novaursa]

Flames in the West (fatherhood)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: a proud lion

- Next part: lord of the west

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

One week after the birth of Lorien Lannister, the Red Keep had settled into a relative calm. You, still recovering, had been ordered by the maesters to rest, which left the care of your newborn son largely in the capable hands of the nursery staff. Or at least, it would have been, had Jason Lannister not decided that no one—not even the most experienced servants—was qualified to look after his son without his direct supervision.

The nursery, a cozy chamber warmed by the soft light of the afternoon sun, was abuzz with quiet activity. The head nursemaid, a matronly woman named Lyra, was busy changing Lorien’s linens while another younger maid hummed softly, rocking the baby in her arms. The atmosphere was peaceful, serene—a stark contrast to what was about to come.

The door burst open with dramatic flair, and Jason Lannister strode in like a lord inspecting his battlements. His expression was a mix of pride and suspicion.

“What’s going on here?” Jason demanded, his sharp eyes scanning the room as though he expected to find something amiss.

The maids froze mid-task, exchanging uncertain glances before Lyra stepped forward, her hands folded respectfully. “My lord, we’re just tending to young Lord Lorien. Everything is in order.”

Jason narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the crib where Lorien lay cooing softly. “In order, you say? Let me see.”

Lyra hesitated, then stepped aside as Jason leaned over the crib, his expression softening immediately. “Ah, there’s my boy,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender tone. “How’s my little lion today?”

Lorien responded with a gurgle, his tiny fists waving in the air. Jason grinned, clearly enchanted, but the moment was short-lived. His gaze snapped back to Lyra. “Why isn’t he wrapped tighter? Babies need to be warm, don’t they?”

Lyra nodded quickly. “Of course, my lord. But too tight, and it’s uncomfortable for—”

“Nonsense!” Jason interrupted, waving a hand. “Fetch another blanket. A thicker one. We can’t have him catching a chill.”

The younger maid scurried off to comply while Lyra gave Jason a strained smile. “My lord, I assure you, we are taking every precaution.”

Jason wasn’t listening. He was now inspecting the crib itself, running his hand along the edges as though testing for hidden dangers. “This wood feels rough. Has it been polished recently? What if he gets a splinter?”

“Splinter?” Lyra repeated, her tone bordering on incredulous. “My lord, the crib is finely crafted—”

“Polish it anyway,” Jason declared, straightening. “And bring a softer pillow. This one seems… insufficient.”

Lyra inhaled deeply, her patience clearly wearing thin. “My lord, infants don’t use pillows. It’s unsafe.”

Jason paused, clearly caught off guard. “Oh. Well… good. That’s what I thought. Just testing you.”

Meanwhile, the younger maid had returned with a thick blanket, which Jason promptly took and began to fuss over. “No, no, not like that,” he said, watching as the maid tried to swaddle Lorien. “You need to fold the corner first, then tuck it in snugly.”

The maid’s hands faltered under his watchful gaze. “Like this, my lord?”

Jason frowned, crossing his arms. “Not quite. Here, let me.”

Lyra’s eyes widened in alarm as Jason swooped in, awkwardly attempting to swaddle Lorien himself. The baby squirmed, letting out a tiny cry of protest, and Jason immediately froze, his face stricken.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, looking at Lyra as though she’d caused it. “Why is he crying?”

Lyra sighed, stepping forward to gently take Lorien back. “He’s just startled, my lord. Let me—”

Jason waved her off. “No, no, I’ve got this.” He rocked Lorien clumsily, murmuring, “There, there, little lion. It’s all fine. Father’s here.”

Lorien’s cries grew louder, and Jason’s panic was palpable. Lyra finally stepped in, plucking the baby from his arms with practiced ease. Within moments, Lorien quieted, his tiny face peaceful once more.

Jason sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Well, he’s clearly stubborn. Takes after me.”

Lyra muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Clearly,” but Jason didn’t notice.

Just as Jason was about to order a complete overhaul of the nursery’s routine, you appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation.

“Jason,” you said, your tone firm but not unkind. “What are you doing?”

Jason turned, his face lighting up. “Y/N! I was just making sure everything was perfect for Lorien.”

You stepped into the room, casting a glance at the flustered maids and the slightly disheveled Lyra. “It looks like you’re driving everyone mad.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but you held up a hand. “They know what they’re doing. Let them do their jobs.”

Jason hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to make sure he’s safe.”

“And he is,” you said, stepping closer to rest a hand on his arm. “But you hovering over everyone isn’t helping.”

Jason looked sheepish, glancing back at Lorien, who was now snoozing peacefully in Lyra’s arms. “He is perfect, isn’t he?”

“He is,” you agreed, smiling. “And he’ll stay that way without you interrogating the maids.”

Jason chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Fine. I’ll leave them be… for now.”

As you led him out of the nursery, Lyra muttered a quiet, “Thank the gods,” earning a stifled laugh from the younger maid. And while Jason’s enthusiasm was undeniable, everyone agreed that the nursery would be a much calmer place without the lion on the prowl.

The royal dining hall was an elegant display of power and wealth, its long table adorned with golden candelabras, intricately embroidered linens, and a feast fit for a king. Jason Lannister, ever the master of dramatic entrances, was seated beside you near the middle of the table, his posture impossibly straight.

It was a smaller, more intimate dinner than the recent wedding feast—just the royal family and a few select guests, including Tyland, who sat a few chairs down with his usual air of quiet amusement. Jason, on the other hand, was clearly determined to make a lasting impression.

As the first course was served—a delicate leek and almond soup—Jason leaned slightly toward King Viserys, his tone overly enthusiastic. “Your Grace, may I just say, the craftsmanship of this table is extraordinary. Is it Valyrian wood?”

Viserys blinked, his spoon hovering mid-air. “No, Jason. It’s oak. From the Riverlands.”

“Ah, yes, of course!” Jason said, nodding vigorously. “Oak! A sturdy and noble choice, much like the realm itself.”

Rhaenyra, seated across from you, smirked into her goblet, exchanging an amused glance with Laenor. You, on the other hand, pinched the bridge of your nose, already sensing where the evening was headed.

As the servants brought out the second course—a roasted capon with honey glaze—Jason seized his next opportunity. “Your Grace,” he said, addressing Viserys again, “the roast is superb. Truly, the cooks of the Red Keep outdo themselves. Though,” he added with a conspiratorial grin, “I must say, the game birds of the Westerlands have a certain... unrivaled flavor.”

Tyland coughed into his goblet, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Jason, I don’t think His Grace is interested in a culinary debate.”

“Nonsense!” Jason said, waving a hand. “Surely a man of such refined taste as His Grace appreciates a good comparison.”

Viserys chuckled, though it was clear he was more amused by Jason’s enthusiasm than the subject matter. “I’m sure the game in the Westerlands is excellent, Jason.”

“Excellent, indeed,” Jason said, his grin widening. “In fact, I’ll have some sent to the Red Keep for the royal kitchens. Consider it a gift from House Lannister.”

Tyland leaned toward him, lowering his voice. “Jason, you’re offering to send pheasants to a man who already has a fleet of ships importing delicacies from across the realm.”

Jason waved him off. “Tyland, don’t be ridiculous. It’s a gesture of goodwill.”

By the time the third course—a hearty venison stew—was served, Jason had turned his attention to Laenor. “So, Laenor,” Jason began, his tone friendly but a touch overbearing, “how does it feel to be married to the realm’s most beloved princess?”

Laenor blinked, clearly caught off guard by the directness of the question. “It feels... good?”

“Good!” Jason said, clapping his hands once. “Excellent answer. You know, being married to a Targaryen is both a great honor and a great responsibility. Trust me, I know.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her smirk widening. “Do you, Jason? Because from what Y/N tells me, you’ve spent most of your time fretting over the nursery.”

Jason grinned, undeterred. “A father’s duty begins at birth, Princess. I’m simply setting an example.”

“And what example is that?” Tyland interjected, unable to resist. “How to drive servants mad?”

The table chuckled, and even Viserys smiled warmly. Jason, ever the performer, placed a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, Tyland, that my efforts have been nothing short of heroic.”

“Heroic?” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes.

Jason caught the comment and turned to you with an exaggerated look of mock hurt. “My love, surely you can vouch for my dedication.”

“Your dedication to hovering?” you replied dryly, though your lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Viserys laughed heartily, raising his goblet. “Well, Jason, it seems you’ve made quite the impression—not just on the nursery staff, but on all of us.”

Seizing the moment, Jason rose to his feet, lifting his goblet high. “Your Grace, my lords and ladies, if I may.”

“Oh, here we go,” Tyland murmured, earning a stifled laugh from Laenor.

Jason ignored him, his voice carrying easily over the table. “I’d like to propose a toast. To House Targaryen, for their generosity and strength; to my dear wife, Y/N, for giving me the most perfect son; and to my family, for tolerating my... enthusiasm.”

The table erupted into laughter and applause, and Jason beamed, clearly pleased with himself. As he sat down, Tyland leaned over, his tone dry. “You do realize you’ve given three toasts this evening?”

“Three excellent toasts,” Jason corrected, taking a sip of his wine. “There’s a difference.”

As dessert was served—honeyed pears and spiced wine—the energy at the table finally began to wane. Jason leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with his performance for the evening, while you rested your head against your hand, looking both amused and exhausted.

Rhaenyra leaned toward you with a smirk. “He’s relentless, isn’t he?”

“Every day,” you replied with a sigh. “But at least he’s entertaining.”

Viserys, still chuckling, raised his goblet one final time. “To Jason, the lion of the evening.”

Jason’s grin widened as he lifted his own goblet. “And to the dragons who tolerate me!”

Jason Lannister, ever the charismatic lord, stood at the edge of the sparring yard, gesturing grandly with a wooden sword as he addressed his companions: Laenor Velaryon and his ever-sardonic cousin Martyn.

“You see,” Jason began, holding the sword aloft like a conqueror, “a proper duel isn’t just about strength. It’s about precision, strategy, and confidence. Much like fatherhood.”

Martyn, leaning against a post with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “Fatherhood? And how, pray tell, are you drawing that connection?”

Jason grinned, swiping the air with a dramatic flourish. “Because both require vision. A clear goal. And speaking of goals—mark my words, the next child Y/N and I have will be a girl. And not just any girl—a little lioness who looks just like her mother.”

Laenor, lounging on a bench nearby, chuckled, shaking his head. “You do realize that’s not exactly up to you, right?”

Jason turned to him, his grin widening. “Nonsense. Have you met me? My sheer will is enough to make it happen.”

Martyn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jason, I’m begging you. Stop. That’s not how children work. You can’t just will them into existence.”

Jason ignored him, pacing dramatically as though addressing a crowd. “Imagine it—a golden-haired girl with Y/N’s sharp wit and my charm. A beauty to rival the stars! She’ll have every lord in Westeros lining up for her favor.”

“And every servant in the castle resigning before she learns to talk,” Martyn muttered under his breath.

Laenor laughed, shaking his head. “You’re setting yourself up for trouble, Jason. Girls are far more challenging than boys.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “I welcome the challenge. Besides, I’m already a master at handling Y/N’s sharp tongue.”

Martyn barked out a laugh. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s doing most of the handling.”

Jason shot him a mock glare. “You’re lucky you’re my cousin, Martyn. Anyone else would’ve been challenged to a duel for such an insult.”

Martyn smirked, gesturing toward the practice yard. “By all means, Jason. Show me this ‘mastery’ you keep boasting about.”

Jason, never one to back down from a challenge, stepped into the sparring circle with a flourish, tossing his cloak to the side. Martyn followed more casually, rolling his shoulders as he picked up a wooden sword.

Laenor, still seated, leaned back with an amused grin. “This should be good. Do try not to injure yourselves.”

Jason squared off against Martyn, his stance overly dramatic. “Prepare yourself, cousin. You’re about to witness greatness.”

Martyn snorted, raising his sword. “Greatness or delusion? Let’s find out.”

The two clashed, their wooden swords colliding with satisfying thwacks. Jason’s moves were flashy but lacked the precision he’d been preaching about moments ago. Martyn, on the other hand, fought with a lazy confidence, his jabs and parries designed more to irritate Jason than to win outright.

“You know,” Martyn said between strikes, “if you keep up this enthusiasm, Y/N is going to throw something heavier than a pillow at you.”

Jason grinned, ducking a swing. “Let her. It’s worth it to show her my devotion.”

“You call that devotion?” Martyn retorted, blocking Jason’s next strike. “Because she calls it madness.”

“Madness?” Jason repeated, feigning offense as he lunged forward. “I call it love.”

Martyn sidestepped easily, tapping Jason’s shoulder with his sword. “And I call this a victory.”

Jason froze, looking down at the wooden blade resting against his arm. “I was distracted,” he declared, stepping back with as much dignity as he could muster. “Thinking about my future daughter.”

Martyn rolled his eyes, lowering his sword. “Of course you were.”

As the three of them settled on the bench afterward, sweaty but in high spirits, Jason turned to Laenor with a grin. “You’re awfully quiet, Laenor. What do you think of my plan?”

Laenor smirked, sipping from a flask of water. “I think you’re brave to talk about more children so soon. Y/N might hear you.”

Jason waved a hand. “She’ll understand. She knows I only want the best for our family.”

Martyn leaned forward, his grin wicked. “Oh, she’ll understand, alright. Right before she throws a goblet at your head.”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “You lot underestimate me. I’m a lion. I thrive under pressure.”

“And yet,” Martyn said, leaning back with a smirk, “it’s always Y/N who has the final roar.”

Jason opened his mouth to reply but paused, his grin turning sheepish. “Well, perhaps that’s true. But that’s what makes her so incredible.”

Laenor and Martyn exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter, their voices echoing across the training yard. And though Jason pretended to be offended, his own laughter soon joined theirs, the camaraderie of the moment drowning out any doubts about his lofty aspirations. For now, the lion was content to dream—and to endure the teasing that came with it.

The morning was unusually quiet in the Lannister chambers at the Red Keep—a peace that never boded well in Jason Lannister’s world. You were seated by the hearth, cradling Lorien in your arms as the baby gurgled softly, his tiny fists waving in the air. Jason was nearby, inspecting a toy lion he’d commissioned, which was gilded in gold and probably worth more than an entire smallfolk village.

“This is it,” Jason said proudly, holding the toy up like it was a royal artifact. “The perfect gift for our son’s first keepsake.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the glittering lion. “Jason, he’s a little more than a week old. He doesn’t even know what a toy is.”

Jason waved off your skepticism. “Nonsense. It’s never too early to appreciate fine craftsmanship.”

Before you could reply, the door to your chambers swung open with an unceremonious bang, and in strode Daemon Targaryen, his trademark smirk firmly in place. He was dressed in his usual black and red, his silver hair gleaming as he surveyed the room with a casual air of superiority.

“Well, well,” Daemon drawled, his sharp eyes landing on you and Lorien. “I leave for a few moons, and you go and give birth to another dragon.”

“Daemon,” you said, smiling despite his dramatic entrance. “It’s good to see you.”

Jason, however, was less composed. He straightened, puffing out his chest as though Daemon’s very presence were a challenge. “Prince Daemon! What an unexpected visit.”

Daemon’s smirk deepened as he looked Jason up and down. “Jason,” he said smoothly. “I see you’re still… glowing with enthusiasm.”

Jason missed the sarcasm entirely. “As always! Come, meet the boy.”

Daemon approached, his steps unhurried as he leaned down to inspect the bundle in your arms. Lorien gurgled again, his tiny face scrunching up as he wriggled under Daemon’s gaze.

“A strong little dragon,” Daemon said, his tone surprisingly soft. “He has the look of his mother.”

“And the charm of his father,” Jason added, grinning.

Daemon straightened, turning to Jason with an arched eyebrow. “Charm, you say?”

Jason nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. He’s destined for greatness, just like his parents.”

Daemon snorted, crossing his arms. “Let’s hope he takes more after his mother.”

As Daemon took a seat by the fire, you handed Lorien to a nursemaid and turned your attention to your uncle. Jason, ever eager to prove himself, seized the opportunity to impress.

“Prince Daemon,” Jason began, pouring a goblet of wine with far too much flair, “now that you’re here, perhaps you’d like to hear about my plans for Lorien’s future.”

Daemon leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Oh, this should be good. Go on.”

Jason launched into an elaborate speech about Lorien’s potential as a knight, a lord, and perhaps even a future Hand of the King, gesturing wildly as he spoke. You and Daemon exchanged a glance, both of you biting back smiles.

“And, of course,” Jason continued, “I plan to teach him everything I know. Swordplay, diplomacy, the art of negotiation—”

“Negotiation?” Daemon cut in, smirking. “You mean your endless flattery and overblown speeches?”

Jason paused, blinking. “It’s called charm, Prince Daemon. Something you might benefit from learning.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Daemon burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Gods, you’re entertaining, Jason. I’ll give you that.”

Jason took the laughter as a compliment, beaming proudly. “I aim to please.”

Daemon shook his head, still chuckling. “Tell me, Y/N, how do you tolerate him?”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “Patience. And the occasional well-aimed pillow.”

Daemon grinned. “Perhaps I should bring a stockpile of them next time I visit.”

As the conversation continued, Jason suddenly remembered the toy lion he’d been so proud of earlier. He grabbed it from the table and presented it to Daemon with the flourish of a man unveiling a priceless artifact.

“Behold,” Jason said, holding the toy aloft. “The perfect gift for a young lion-dragon.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, taking the toy from Jason’s hands. He turned it over, inspecting the gold-plated details with a critical eye. “It’s… shiny.”

“Exactly!” Jason said, nodding enthusiastically. “Only the best for my son.”

Daemon smirked, tossing the toy lightly from hand to hand. “And what happens when he throws it and dents your precious floors?”

Jason blinked, clearly horrified by the suggestion. “He wouldn’t!”

“Oh, he will,” Daemon said with a wicked grin. “Just wait until he starts teething. This lion will be in pieces before the year is out.”

Jason looked genuinely distressed, clutching his chest as though the thought had physically pained him. “Lorien would never destroy something so magnificent.”

“Jason,” you said, laughing softly, “he’s a baby. He’s going to chew on it.”

Daemon leaned back, tossing the toy onto the table with a shrug. “Better get used to it, Lannister. Parenthood isn’t all gold and glory.”

After an afternoon of teasing, laughter, and Jason’s endless attempts to impress, Daemon finally rose to leave. He clapped Jason on the shoulder, his smirk firmly in place.

“You’re an amusing one, Jason,” Daemon said. “I look forward to seeing how you handle a house full of little lions.”

Jason grinned, puffing out his chest. “I’m ready for anything.”

Daemon glanced at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have my sympathies, niece.”

As Daemon left, Jason turned to you with a triumphant smile. “Well, I think that went rather well.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress your laughter. “Jason, he was mocking you the entire time.”

Jason shrugged, still grinning. “Mocking or admiring—it’s all the same when you’re as charming as I am.”

And with that, the chaos of the day finally settled, leaving you to wonder how you’d ever survive the whirlwind that was Jason Lannister—and secretly grateful that he kept life anything but dull.

Another week passed, and the Lannister chambers in the Red Keep were, for once, unusually calm. Jason, ever the doting father, had taken it upon himself to ensure that Lorien’s cradle was the most meticulously maintained piece of furniture in the Seven Kingdoms. You, meanwhile, were enjoying a rare moment of peace, reading quietly in the corner as Lorien napped in his cradle.

The calm was shattered, however, when a loud gasp escaped from Jason, who had leaned over the cradle to adjust the blankets.

“What is this?” Jason exclaimed, his voice high and incredulous.

You glanced up from your book, raising an eyebrow. “What is what?”

Jason straightened, holding something in his hands—a smooth, oblong object with faintly iridescent scales. It gleamed in the light, its surface a deep crimson with streaks of gold.

“It’s a dragon egg!” Jason declared, his eyes wide with shock.

You frowned, setting your book aside as you crossed the room to inspect it. Sure enough, the unmistakable weight and texture of a dragon egg greeted your touch. Nestled snugly beneath Lorien’s blankets, it looked as though it belonged there.

Jason, however, was not amused. “Who put this in my son’s cradle?!” he demanded, clutching the egg as though it might explode.

Word spread quickly, as it always did in the Red Keep. Within moments, King Viserys himself arrived in your chambers, his face flushed with curiosity and amusement. Rhaenyra trailed behind him, her expression a mix of confusion and suppressed laughter.

“What’s all this commotion?” Viserys asked, stepping into the room. His gaze immediately fell on the dragon egg in Jason’s hands, and his eyebrows shot up. “Well, now. That’s quite the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Jason spluttered, holding the egg out as though it might bite him. “This was in my son’s cradle! How did it get there?”

Viserys chuckled, stroking his beard as he inspected the egg. “It seems the dragons have chosen Lorien. A fine omen, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jason’s jaw dropped. “Omen? Your Grace, this is madness! Babies shouldn’t share cradles with dragon eggs!”

Rhaenyra, unable to suppress her laughter any longer, stepped forward. “It’s perfectly safe, Jason. The Dragonkeepers would never allow an unsafe egg to be placed near a child.”

Jason shot her a look of pure disbelief. “Safe? It’s a dragon! What if it hatches? What if it bites him? Or breathes fire?”

Viserys laughed heartily, clapping Jason on the shoulder. “Relax, Lord Jason. If the egg hatches, it means your son is destined to bond with a dragon. It’s a great honor.”

Jason didn’t look convinced. “It’s also a potential disaster. What if he decides to chew on it?”

You, watching the exchange with amusement, finally chimed in. “He’ll probably treat it better than that gilded lion you gave him.”

Jason shot you a look but said nothing, his focus returning to the egg. “I need answers,” he muttered. “Who put this here? And why wasn’t I informed?”

The next hour was a flurry of activity as Jason interrogated every servant, nursemaid, and guard within earshot. Meanwhile, Viserys took a seat by the hearth, sipping wine and thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.

“Jason,” Viserys said at one point, his tone teasing, “you’re acting as though the egg is a wild beast. It’s a sign of the Targaryen blood in your son.”

“It’s a fire-breathing symbol of chaos,” Jason retorted, still pacing. “And I’d like to know how it ended up in his cradle.”

Rhaenyra, lounging nearby, smirked. “Perhaps the dragons chose him. Or perhaps someone thought it would be amusing to see your reaction.”

Jason froze, his eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t.”

Rhaenyra raised her goblet, her smirk widening. “Wouldn’t I?”

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh as Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Gods save me. I’m surrounded by dragons and jesters.”

Eventually, after much coaxing from Viserys and you, Jason reluctantly accepted the egg’s presence. He set it carefully back in the cradle, adjusting the blankets around it with the utmost care.

“If anything happens to him,” Jason muttered, glancing at Lorien, who remained blissfully unaware of the commotion, “I’ll hold the dragons personally responsible.”

Viserys chuckled, rising from his seat. “You’re a good father, Jason. Overprotective, but good.”

Jason sighed, straightening. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this. Dragons, eggs, fire-breathing chaos—it’s all part of marrying into House Targaryen, isn’t it?”

Rhaenyra smirked, raising her goblet in a mock toast. “Welcome to the family.”

As the room finally began to settle, Jason turned to you, his expression both exasperated and fond. “You owe me for this, Y/N. I’m risking life and limb to keep our son safe.”

You arched an eyebrow. “From an egg?”

“From everything!” Jason declared, throwing his hands in the air. “I swear, Lorien better grow up to appreciate this.”

Viserys laughed again as he made his way to the door. “He’ll grow up to thank you, Jason. Just wait until he’s flying his dragon.”

Jason paled at the thought, muttering something about needing more wine. And as the chaos finally subsided, the room settled into an uneasy calm, leaving you to wonder how long it would last before the next storm arrived.

[timetravellibrarian]

Zoro x reader

Zoro x femreader

Soulmate AU

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship.

No use of Y/n in this chapter . Trying my hand at writing a story with chapters for Zoro

____________________________________

Chapter One

Zoro felt the cool breeze caress his skin and sighed with contentment. It's been almost two months since he had left Shimotsuki Village. He had managed to get some Berry when he had taken out a weak band of pirates, the money in his pocket as he entered a small restaurant and slid onto a stool.

Before he could order anything the sound of a little girl calling his name caught his attention. Rika had run to him with a bowl of chocolate covered onigiri.

"Oh hey,"

The store owner had smiled at the smile in her daughter's face as she gave Zoro the bowl of food."Thank you for helping out, the pirates are gone, Mr Zoro."

A haughty man with a double chin had appeared with two marines beside him. He had swaggered his way through the small crowd. He had taken a bite of Rika's food and threw it to the ground in disdain. The plate shattering along with the poor girls hard work in preparing the dish.

"That tastes disgusting, little girl. That's not how you prepare food, much less serve it to others." The blonde man said harshly. Before Zoro knew it he had tried to stand up for the said girl but due to the bounty he had accumulated over the past few weeks he was to stay in the confines of the detainment yard. Tied up and unfed, left to wake up to the blinding light of the sun and the cold chills of the night air.

That was where he had met a strawhatted boy who seemed no older than himself. One with dreams as large as his. Maybe it was God's will. Maybe it was the Fates orchestrating all of this. Zoro wouldn't know. He didn't believe anything many believed. He'd tie everything to luck being in his favour.

He looked down at his bandaged wrist as he and Monkey D. Luffy , his new captain, sailed away from the island after having said goodbye to the few friends they happened to make

As much as he had kept himself in denial about the initials written on his wrist,bandaged and far from anyone's curious eyes a deep curiosity within him wondered about who his supposed soulmate could be.

____________________________________

A young woman sat atop a large rock surrounded by crashing waves. Her eyes were closed, lips parted,as she breathed in the sea breeze.

"Mi'lady?" Her handmaiden, Lyra, tried to get her attention,' We shouldn't be here too long."

The young woman stood up from her spot, her regal dress that was once bunched up had went back to being in its formal position, reaching past her ankles. She lifted up her dress to try and avoid getting it wet and hopped across onto the other rocks that had created a path that lead to the wooden dock. Her feet had contact with the wooden structure.

Lyra swiftly pulled out a towel and a pair of shoes and got to work on removing any dirt from her lady's feet and putting on the shoes. Alas her friend tried to move away and make her stand up.

"I could do it myself."

"Then what job would I have? Besides, that dress won't let you reach your feet."

Her handmaiden countered. The woman sighed. Once both feet had shoes on the two travelled back through a secret pathway. Left, right, under the merchant bridge and through the gardens. Eventually they found themselves back to the palace.

"I have something to tell you, Mi'lady." Lyra said softly as they walked through the palace halls."Something I heard ."

"What is it?"

Once the two had gotten to an isolated hallway, Lyra turned to the princess and held both if her hands gently.

"Your mother wishes to arrange a political marriage." The princess's eyes widened in surprise.

"But she knows I have a soulmate?"

Lyra nodded, her had absent mindedly going to trace the initials of her mistress as well as friend's wrist. "She knows, but she figures you might never find him. It is rare to find people with the initials R.Z "

"But not impossible."

"This is your mother, the queen, that we're talking about. She wants you wedded before you reach 20." Lyra gave her a look.

"She's gonna ship me off to some random nobleman, and when he finds his soulmate I will be cast aside like an old fashion trend."

"I'm sorry Mi'lady." Lyra pulled the princess into a comforting hug,and the young woman melted against her.

"It will be alright."

____________________________________

[seireitonin]

Can you make Toby headcanons

I can’t believe I haven’t already done this?? He’s literally all I think about lately. Also sorry for the lack of posts life is busy. Anyway! (Some of this will be canon)

“Ticci” Toby Head Canons

Toby was in and out of the hospital all his life

CIPA will do that for you

He constantly had to lie about the bruises he got from his dad while he was in the hospital

He didn’t want to be separated from his sister in foster care

Toby got bullied and outcasted at school

But he also was a bully kinda

The violence he was experiencing at home made him violent at school

He would beat people who teased him bloody

He’s impulsive and cynical but also empathic

He would use his body as a shield against his father to protect his sister and mother

Purposely behaving bad so he would get it the worst, sparing his sister and mother

Slenderman was trying to get both Lyra and Toby to become proxies and Lyra had been experiencing the slender sickness and seeing Slenderman

So she purposely crashed the car so her and Toby would both die, but he was none the wiser

Only Lyra died and Toby has survivors guilt

Not only because he’s alive but because Lyra was a better person in his eyes

She took care of him, she was sweet, she was gentle

Toby was rough, standoff ish, and rude

Toby thinks he deserved to die, not her

Wishes he died instead of her

Slenderman only targeted Toby after that

The hallucinations getting stronger and worse

Him seeing his dead sister

Constantly feeling sick

Toby looked at all his neighbors with jealousy

Why did they get the perfect suburban life?

Why was he given a life of suffering?

Slenderman was breaking him down day after day

On top of all that the abuse didn’t stop

Slenderman was able to take his mind over easily with all that Toby was going through

Toby’s grief, anger, sadness, pain and suffering making him unable to fight off Slendermans influence

The night he killed his father he was under Slendermans control completely

Only snapping out of his trance for a few seconds before being taken over again

He didn’t really want to kill his father but his body wasn’t his

Luckily he was able to snap out of the trance before he hurt his mom

But he still burned the neighborhood down, ready to accept death

Then Slenderman took him in

When he was 19 he acted a bit like the teen he never got to be

Not super upbeat but he was more playful and free

Masky and Hoodie do care about him, just in a rough love kind of way because they didn’t want to see him die

Also he was so young, they know what it’s like to loose your life and mind to Slenderman at a fairly young age

So they trained him hard and kept reminding him that he’s disposable so be careful and not so reckless with his body

Toby’s not only good with hatchets but knives as well

Also good at hand to hand combat and dodging

Has infinite stamina and is really strong and fast

Dated Clockwork from ages 19-24

He died at 25 but was resurrected by Slenderman and became possessed fully (which is another reason why he’s so sickly pale)

Slenderman attempted to make him kill Clockwork, but luckily some of Toby was still in there and he was able to hold back from killing her

She was able to fight him off easily after that but couldn’t bring herself to kill him

But she doesn’t want to see him ever again

The one man she trusted tried to kill her and it was too much for her to handle

Toby was heartbroken for months and killed a lot of people, letting himself become a puppet for Slenderman completely

Toby came to the realization that his body was never his to own

His body belonged to the doctors when he was a kid to experiment on, the shield to protect his family, a puppet for Slenderman to use, even his Tourette’s controlled him sometimes

Toby is bi but leans towards women because women were kind to him all his life

Total horndog

He can be manipulative but honestly it’s not on purpose he’s just scared to loose people

“You shouldn’t leave. You’re all I have. My family is gone. Please. You’re the only thing I love.”

Very clingy with people he cares about

Especially because he knows he’s a lot to handle

His emotions can change very quickly

Since his mind has gotten used to Slendermans influence, his memories come back in full force

He vividly remembers everything that happened to him and will sometimes have breakdowns

The memories come at random times too

He’s full of himself and not insecure at all

Blunt, rude, will say what he wants whenever he wants with no filter but is nice to people he likes

Constantly has bloody and bruised knuckles

Smells like the woods/ outdoors and campfires

Made a promise to his sister when they were young to never be like his dad. So he’ll never hit a woman he loves

Belive she’s not meant to be loved. Everyone who’s loved him has either died or left one way or another

Wears neutral colors to blend in with the forest

Touched starved, due to not getting much gentle touch and affection in his life

Wants a normal life so bad but knows that will never happen

Wants to have kids. He wants to be the man his father never was

Hides his face gash with bandages and gauze when he goes out in public

He’s handsome and he knows it. He uses that charm to lure in/ manipulate his victims

Dark brown eyes and hair and pale pink lips

29 years old

Started dating Nina at 27

Toby is 6’0 flat

Very lanky but his back and arms are toned because of constant axe throwing and swinging

Toby is much more mature now that he’s 29 but can still joke around and stuff

Has scars all over his body not only from his father, but fighting since he was 17

He’s so full of himself and cocky especially when he’s manic

He’s an extremely jealous person and can be very possessive especially over the person he’s dating

He’s just scared to loose anyone

Hes violent as hell when it comes to killing

Very very messy because he’s impulsive and reckless and doesn’t care about getting hurt because he doesn’t feel it

Sometimes will target abusive men and will beat them to death with his fists while looking them in the eyes, smiling

Just because he was manipulated into killing at first doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it now

Because he really enjoys it

Especially when he’s angry or emotional

Still needs constant check ups and has to check for injuries on his body because he can’t feel them

Eats people on occasion. Since he chewed on his hands a lot he likes the taste of flesh

Likes fucking with his victims before he kills them sometimes. He learned that from Masky.

Has nightmares but doesn’t tell anyone about them

Doesn’t drink alcohol often because he really doesn’t wanna be like his dad

Midwestern emo

Looks like his mom. It makes him sad. He misses her.

When he’s by himself he wears grandpa sweaters and loose jeans

Nina is the only other person who can wear his clothes

Anyone else? No way.

Is close with EJ because of the constant medical checkups

Close with Jane too since Nina became friends with her

Actually can cook pretty well since he had to survive on his own a lot

His hair is mid neck and curly because he doesn’t bother to cut it

His beard is prickly and it started growing at 23

Has a bunch of piercings because he can’t feel pain (eyebrows, snakebites, tounge, septum, a bunch of ear ones) he also did it to match with Nina

His favorite food is ramen

His ADHD can make him upbeat and happy sometimes but it doesn’t last long

He likes to sit in the woods by himself sometimes and just enjoy his own company

He has quite the reputation working for Slenderman and all

Masky, Hoodie and Toby are called the triple threat

Hoodie handles ranged combat like guns. Masky is a hard hitting melee fighter, using crowbars, bats etc. Toby can do both by throwing hatches and using them in hand to hand combat. But he can also use his fists.

That’s all I got 4 now I’ll make a part 2 when I can remember more. Also this isn’t proof read sorry :3

[amorgansgal]

A Full Heart

Hi, it's me again, being very broody and wanting Halsin to have so many babies! Inspired by @neontokyoo's post here I wrote a little something something about Halsin being a girl dad and having twins, because I just couldn't resist, ok??

Halsin x Female Tav

‘More girls and twins to boot, I don’t envy Halsin, that’s going to be a lot of work!’ 

Halsin had been tending the kitchen gardens in Reithwin when he heard voices float through the windows and it made him stop his work. His oldest daughter, Lyra, was still toddling about happily, her hands covered in mud (which he had to make sure she didn’t end up putting in her mouth) and she’d been eagerly ‘helping’ him as much as a two year old could. They had to replant a couple of things that weren’t ready to be cooked in the kitchen, though it warmed his heart to hear her hysterical laughter at a tiny little carrot. 

‘Baby carrot!’ she had crowed as though it were the funniest thing in the world. 

Now, he was distracted and continued to listen in to the conversation. Elves often had twins, so the fact that he now had two new babies wasn’t too much of a surprise and he had sensed them long before they were born. He had been thrilled that not only was he going to be a father again, but twins were seen as a blessing in Elven culture.

‘I know, he must be so disappointed that she’s given him more girls. Still, she’s young, still time for him to have a son.’

‘Not that young,’ someone else said sniffily. 

His blood simmered with irritation that they would speak so dismissively of his love, especially when she had been through the hells to birth their children and all of them were happy, healthy and safe. Why would they think that this wasn’t a blessing? Boy or girl, it hardly mattered as long as the child was happy and healthy. And he was delighted with them. Ara had been born with an almost disgruntled, dissatisfied look on her face as though she were appalled she had been forced to leave her safe, warm home. And Thalia had cried loudly, until she got to hold her twin’s hand while being held on Tav’s chest. Halsin almost wept at how perfect and beautiful they were.  And in comparison to himself, Tav was young and there was plenty of time to have more children - well, at least he hoped so. If Tav decided three were enough he wouldn’t force them to bear more, but truth be told, he had been hoping for five or six children.

He inhaled deeply, calming himself and got to his feet, quickly swooping Lyra up so she let out a little shriek of joy. Halsin smiled at her and picked up the basket of vegetables. ‘Come, let us put some rumours to rest and wash your hands and face, so your mother can see you.’

‘Stuff and nonsense, he’s always loved looking after the children, after all he was delighted when-’ one of the gossiping women was saying when he strolled into the kitchen. 

‘Oh Halsin!’ one of the older women cried out, he was glad to see the group at least had the decency to look ashamed. After a long silence, she continued, ‘We were just saying-’

‘I know full well,’ he put the basket down and carried Lyra over to a bucket of water, she happily splashed her hands in the cold water and squirmed when Halsin attempted to rub her hands with a bar of soap. It slipped from his grasp and fell into the bucket with a loud plop. Lyra giggled and reached in to grab it, the soap momentarily shot up to the surface and then disappeared again.

‘Slippy soap!’ his daughter cried out.

He fished the soap out and continued to clean his daughter’s hands. He almost felt a little bad that the women were nervously watching him, waiting with baited breath as to what he would do or say. He was no longer archdruid, he wasn’t exactly going to berate them especially in front of his child, however much he would like to. Once Lyra’s face and hands were clean from the mud, he lifted her back up.

‘Rather than speaking behind mine or my loved one’s back, I will assure you I am quite happy and content with three girls. If we have sons, then all well and good, but my heart has never been more full or delighted than with my daughters. We are not in the cities anymore, where such foolish, simple minded rules and beliefs exist concerning a man’s expectations of his wife or lover. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ he said. ‘I must see to Tav.’

He did not wait for the women to speak further, but left the room. Lyra clung to him tightly and beamed up at him. He smiled at her, that look of adoration and happiness was all he lived for, what did he care if anyone else pitied him or thought he was weak or foolish for not being disappointed? As they approached their house, Lyra wiggled excitedly.

‘Mama?’ she asked.

‘Yes, we’re going to see Mama, and your new little sisters.’

[plounce]

started reading the golden compass bc i got it for cheap and i have foggy memories of how far i even got in it when i was young and i think the concepts are super cool. i really enjoy the use of archaic synonyms (naphtha, chocolatl, etc) to establish this churchpunk (ha ha) alternate history. i am leery about the ethnic/racial stuff but i will reserve judgment bc i do think pullman is setting up a problematic society and perhaps this stuff will change as lyra's worldview broadens. i am enjoying myself though

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Queen Adam AU Part 11)

*Princess Avery Morningstar woke up and threw her hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream, she recently had nightmares where she was in a realm of darkness and she saw him, the Radio Dream with his evil grin waiting to tell her what she wanted from him, she slid out of bed because she wanted some hit chocolate, she made her way downstairs, she was growing to be quite beautiful, the only traits she shared with her biological father were gold antlers that she could control the size of and gold deer like hooves, other than that, she looked like her mother, in fact her and Lyra looked the most like their beautiful mother, she walked into the kitchen and used her shadow powers to make a mug of hot chocolate*

Adam: Would you mind making me some too?

*Avery turned around and saw Adam, the Queen of Hell and her mother, she loved her mother so much and she wanted to be so much like him in every way, Adam never hated Avery for the fact that the Radio Demon forced himself upon Adam to make Avery*

Adam: Are you having a nightmare sweetie?

Avery: I am just having a hard time falling asleep, I have a lot on my mind.

Adam: I understand that feeling.

*the pair sat together as the shadows made hot chocolate for them*

Avery: How was your recent vacation to Earth with dad?

*even if she was biologically Alastor’s child, to Avery, Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell and Adam’s husband was her father in the way that mattered*

Adam: Crazy, but also fun. I got to beat up an annoyance from my days in Heaven.

*both Adam and Avery laughed, Adam was always able to make the young princess laugh, the shadows put the mugs of hot chocolate in front of them and they enjoyed it*

Adam: My compliments to your shadows, they make a really good cup of hot chocolate.

Avery: The fact that I have shadow powers like him doesn’t make you scared?

Adam: No, Alastor having shadow powers wasn’t what made him evil, it was having a dark heart. You don’t have a dark heart.

*Avery threw her arms around Adam, their wings wrapping around each other, Avery’s black angel wings and Adam’s black angel wings with threads of gold in them*

Avery: I know I am too old to ask this, but can I still sleep with you and dad tonight?

Adam: You are never too old to ask that. Your brother Cain still asked to sleep with me and Eve when he was your age when he had trouble sleeping.

Avery: Really?

Adam: Just don’t tell him that, be likes his reputation as a tough guy.

*Adam picked up Avery without any effort since he was such a tall and strong man, he carried her in his arms like she was still a little girl, she buried her face in his shoulder smiling at the rich earthy smell he naturally had since he was made from the dust of the Earth, Adam walked into his room, Lucifer was in bed looking over official royal documents*

Adam: Avery is having a hard time sleeping so she will be sleeping why us tonight.

Lucifer: Of course.

*Lucifer smiled as he moved the sheets so Adam could get into bed while still holding Avery*

Adam: Sweet dreams sweetie.

Avery: Goodnight mom, goodnight dad.

*Avery fell asleep hoping that the presence of her mom and dad would keep the nightmares away from her*

In Avery's dream, everything was starting out just fine. This was a dream she had had in the past about ruling Hell when her turn came.

She knew in reality that it would be a super long while before she would even be able to do so, her eldest sister Charlie was first in line and then her other older siblings Lyra Lydia and Luke.

But here in her dreams, she could pretend to rule all of Hell as their Queen. And all the good she could do for her people.

Alastor: Why wait?

Avery gasped and turned to see the man that was her biological father. She had only seen the odd picture of him and even those were grainy and distorted.

He was tall and wore an all red suit. But the was mixed with pieces of his shadow self making everything on him look more black than red. His antlers were large and black they held no light

His eyes were the most haunting. The only form of any light in them was the symbol of a radio dial in those black soulless eyes. His smile creeped her out as it was too large for his face.

Avery: Go away.

Alastor: Aww, sweet Avery is that anyway to speak to your father?

Avery: Lucifer is my dad!

Alastor: Without me you wouldn't exist! You owe me.

Avery backed away from him: I.....

Alastor tilted his head to the side in such a creepy way, as if his creep factor couldn't get any higher.

Alastor: Oh Avery, you really should smile more my dearest daughter. You're never fully dressed without one

He held up a needle with glowing green thread, Avery's eyes widened.

Alastor: Let daddy fix you.

-

Avery shot up in bed screaming her hands flying to her face to stop the phantom pains from the needle from touching her.

Adam: Avery! Sweetheart open your eyes!

Lucifer: Sweetie open your eyes!

Avery: NO! GET OFF ME! I DON'T WANT IT!!

Avery finally opened her eyes and cried in relief that she was with her mom and true dad again. She sobbed in Adams arms.

Adam looked at Lucifer, their baby was having nightmares and they didn't know how to help her.

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 25 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary:Daemon and Alicent try to give Valeana advice. Spoiler: she does not listen to either of them. Word Count: 5464 CHAPTER WARNINGS: AnnoyingUncle!Daemon. I only proof read this chapter once, so there's probably going to be more spelling/grammatical errors than usual.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I'm going through a lapse in muse lately, but I'm trying, really. So updates will be weekly, or every ten days depending on how things go.

Daemon Targaryen was hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia at the sight before him. If he squinted, it would have been like staring into a window that framed the past. Perhaps the gods did have a sense of humour, because the parallels were just too perfect. 

Aemond and Daemon.

Valeana and Lysa. 

She was nearly the spitting image of her mother, had she had Lysa’s slimmer frame and wheat coloured hair. Daemon only met Valeana a few times, maybe less, though he never had a good look at her. She was younger than she was now, more fuller in figure, ashen from the lack of sun. He didn’t see Lysa in her until the day he returned to King’s Landing. 

“We were just having a reprieve from the ball,” the girl answered, sending a quick look at Aemond, who looked as if Daemon insulted his mother. 

Daemon wanted to laugh at her answer, “I can see that. You two look quite reprieved indeed.” 

Aemond’s nostrils flared, “What are you doing here, uncle?”

That had to be the first time Aemond Targaryen had ever spoken directly to him. They never met, not formally at least. Daemon was too busy in the Stepstones and then in Pentos to even look upon him as a child, let alone as an adult. 

“For the same reason,” Daemon replied coolly, still leaning against the archway at the foot of the stairs. “A reprieve from the ball.” 

“Then we shall leave you to your peace, Prince Daemon,” Valeana rubs her hands together before putting something into her skirt pocket. “Prince Aemond?”

The one-eyed prince didn’t say anything, just kept his eye on Daemon, waiting for the slightest movement to give him reason to lunge at him like a guard dog. He made a low growling sound in agreement, his elbow extending for Valeana to take. When her arm wove through it, Daemon immediately saw the way his nephew’s shoulders broadened, as if he had just won a great prize. 

“And where are you two intending to go?” 

Aemond stiffly turned to Valeana, his jaw taut with irritation and impatience. Perhaps it came with age, or because he was a father of two girls, but nothing was more amusing to Daemon than cockblocking young men that were keen on debasing a woman’s skirts (as ironic as that was). It was especially entertaining that it was his green nephew, sired by that snake of a woman. 

“To retire,” Aemond bit out his reply. 

“Is that what the kids call it these days?” 

“Oh, gods,” Valeana bowed her forehead into Aemond’s shoulder before forcing herself to look at Daemon. “Aemond is just going to escort me back to my apartments. Nothing untoward, Prince Daemon.” 

“Was ‘nothing untoward’ going to happen in this cellar had I not interrupted?” He didn’t give them room to reply as he sauntered closer to the couple. “Need I remind you, Lady Valeana, that you have an agreement with my step-son, the heir to the heir. You are supposed to be courting him.” 

She glared up at him shamelessly, just like Lyra used to do when no one was looking.

Daemon tutted, “Your father would be greatly disappointed in you when I tell him where his daughter was, and with whom. I dare say, ol’ Barty might go ahead and take away his promise of choice.”

He was sickly satisfied at her reaction. Caught between her anger and her fear of her father. Valeana leaned into Aemond’s arm once again, who in turn pulled her closer, all the while keeping his eye trained on his uncle. If Daemon was a sentimental man with a soft heart like his brother, he might have cooed at the lovers and let them go on their merry way. 

But he wasn’t; he was far more ambitious than he was empathetic. Even if the two mirrored his past so symbiotically, he almost wished he hadn’t interrupted just so he could bear witness to that treasured memory in real time. 

“I’ll escort Lady Valeana back, nephew,” Daemon continued before he did get sentimental. “It is just as well; your mother has been asking for your whereabouts. Something about a Baratheon girl.” 

Aemond’s lip thinned just before he made a threatening step forward, only to get held back by the ivory anchor at his arm. 

“Aemond,” she said softly. The younger prince looked down at her, the muscles in his jaw relaxing. “My father cannot know.”

He considered her words for a moment before nodding stiffly, “I will call on you.” Aemond’s hand hovered over her cheek, only stopping when he re-remembered that they now had an audience of one. He ended up letting his hand fall to his side, and giving her one last look before turning around to give his uncle one last glare. Keeping eye contact, Aemond strode by him, shoulder nearly checking him from the sheer proximity. 

Daemon’s smug smile did not wipe from his face as he nephew passed by him and bounded up the stairs two steps at a time. He hummed his amusement, and then brought his attention back to Valeana, who stood with her arms crossed, and green eyes venomous and lethal. 

He just smiled at her, irking her even more. 

“My Lady,” he offered her his elbow. 

Grumbling, she walked by him, marching up the stairs, muttering about how her mother should have slapped him harder. Daemon simply followed after her, keeping her in his crosshairs and ensuring she didn’t flee after her lover. 

Once they were in the corridors above, Daemon easily caught her stride, “The apple does not fall far from the tree, I see.”

His comment earned him a confused glance, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Formalities already forgotten. Perhaps the apple did fall farther from the tree, but he blamed that on her hot Valyrian blood. “Lysa Lannister also coveted the affection of royal blood. How far down are you planning to go? Should I worry for Lucerys or little Joffrey?” 

If eyes could slap someone, that’s exactly what she did to him, “You know nothing of my mother, and if you do not wish to feel another bite of a bejeweled slap across your cheek, I suggest you keep her name out of your mouth.” 

If Daemon was any other man, he would have bristled at her words, but instead he just laughed; louder than a hummed chuckle, softer than a loud guffaw. His hand went to his cheek, reciting the twenty-five year old memory in his mind. 

“I still have a scar from that, just above my left eye.”

“I can assure you that I can continue where my mother left off.” 

He peered at her interestingly; she was bristly walking, trying to keep a foot ahead of him, but failed miserably.  He was much taller than her, making his long languid strides match her pace with ease. 

“I would watch your tongue if I were you, Lady Valeana. One day I will be your king.” 

“Consort,” she shot him a look over her shoulder.

That wiped the smile off his face. His tongue rolled around in his mouth, a bitter taste of the truth that the closest way for him to reach the Throne is by being a consort to his niece. Not even his own sons would inherit it. Daemon had half a mind to slap the Celtigar girl across her face for reminding him of his place. 

He didn’t, for the sake of his wife. For the sake of his brother. For the sake of Lysa’s ghost. 

“I know plenty about Lysa,” Daemon’s voice was low as he acknowledged her previous statement. “More than your father. Certainly more than you.” 

“You’re assuming my knowledge of the woman who sacrificed her body and soul for me? My father has told me everything about her; he wanted me to know her as if I had personal memories of her.”

“Lysa lived in the Keep years before she started courting your father, or even met him,” his lips were in a thin line, eyes forward as they made it to Maegor’s Holdfast. “There are things that Lord Bartimos was not privy to, and I daresay he would not wish to know if presented with the option.” 

Her brow was still furrowed in indignation, but his words casted a frown upon her face. He could see it in her profile, the thoughts rolling around in her head like a collection of marbles. 

“What things?” 

“In another life, Lady Valeana, you and Clement would have been my children,” his confession startled her enough to falter her step and whip her head in his direction. “Had it not been for my grandmother’s insistence on marrying me to the Bronze Bitch, and your mother’s relentless stubborn devotion to Aemma Arryn.” 

Alysanne’s marriage arrangement with Daemon and Rhea Royce was politically sound from an objective point of view. Rhea was set to inherit her own title in Runestone, Daemon was third in line and effectively not set to inherit anything. This would have given him land and title, and would turn the second most powerful family of the Vale into a Targaryen dynasty. Lysa Lannister wasn’t to inherit anything, but she was the only female Lannister born in generations, until Jason’s daughters. She had a hefty dowry that could buy land if he so chose. But that was not the reason he wished for her hand, oh no. 

Daemon was absolutely obsessed with Lysa Lannister. She captivated him as much as she infuriated him, and the truth was he didn’t have an answer as to why that was. 

Turning to her, he allowed himself to openly examine Valeana’s features, grasping onto all the similarities, and ignoring the Valyrian attributes she inherited from her father. Peridot eyes and all. 

“Your mother refused to marry, not until Aemma died. She refused every eligible lord and knight in the Seven Kingdoms, claiming that her duty as the Queen Consort’s Lady-In-Waiting was more important than being a wife and mother. And for some reason, when she did decide to become one, she chose your father over everyone else.” 

Over me. 

Valeana let out a long groan, instantly reading into the subtext of Daemon’s little diatribe of being rejected by her mother. This isn’t the first time she has heard a lord tell her about how he tried to woo her mother only to be jilted politely in preference of being perpetually unwed – until Bartimos Celtigar came in with his jewels and his gold. 

“Prince Daemon, I am already juggling three princes, I do not need another, especially someone who is married, and so old—”

“I’m not old–” He instantly snapped back, but quickly switched off his offended tone. “And if I wanted you as my bride, I would not have wedded Leana. Your father would have no qualms betrothing you to me if I had asked–”

“I was five!”

“And that would have not mattered after ten years— what am I even bloody talking about?”

“How you wanted to wed me when I was five!”

“I did not– Hmm,” His hand swept over his face in frustration, a barely contained growl muffled in his palm. “You are more infuriating than your mother.” 

“Then why did you want her in the first place?” Valeana stopped walking when they reached her floor. Her family’s apartments were not long from there, but she did not wish to have Ser Steffon bear witness to this conversation. 

Daemon’s lips pouted in thought, one hand on his hip, the other on the pommel of Dark Sister, always attached to him wherever he went. 

“I wanted her because she infuriated me,” he finally said, voice low. 

Valeana raised her eyebrows, “And she did not want you, because she did not love you. That is why she chose my father.” 

At that, he tilted his head, “You really think your mother loved your father?” When she didn’t answer right away, too long to formulate an answer to what should have been obvious, he continued. “She loved someone else, someone she could not have. That was the real reason she didn’t accept anyone’s proposal. It was not until she could not handle her own loneliness did she decide to finally look for a husband. Your father offered her contentment, a life of comfort and ease, and in the end she chose to settle. That is the truth that your father would not want to hear.”

Valeana was silently digesting, though not entirely freely. He could see the defiance in her eyes, the clear unwillingness to believe a single word coming from his lips. He knew that feeling well, when he saw the truth before him the first time; it tore his innards out like an army of crabs feasting on a corpse on the barren lands of the Stepstones. 

“Trust me when I say this, Lady Valeana. Your mother would’ve wanted you to wed Jacaerys Velaryon. She would’ve wanted you to be the wife of Aemma and Viserys’ grandson.” 

She stared at him long and hard, the crease between her brow never wavering. Her mouth went from a frown to a tight line as she lifted her chin up, very distinctly Lannister in its nature. 

“No,” Valeana shook her head. “You really don’t know my mother, Daemon. She would have wanted me to marry for love, or not at all.”  

Valeana’s morning began blessedly late, as did everyone else’s she’d wager. Fast was broken in silence; Barty and Ursula were hung over, Shyla looked as if she was keeping a secret she did not want to share, Arthor seemed the same way, Clement  scarfed down food as if it would be his last meal, and Floris… Seemed rather content, bizarrely. Especially since Valeana recalled her being contrite for the entirety of the ball. 

It was just as well, Valeana much on her mind. Aemond leased her dreams that night, as well as all the things that could have happened under Balerion’s nose. Some of it didn’t make much sense, but she remembered being nude before him, hiding her intimate parts from him. Then he would respond by undressing himself in front of her, eye patch gone, hair undone, all without shame. Her mind stirred at that point and suddenly she was slimmer, younger, with golden hair instead of silver. Aemond before her had two eyes, shorter hair, youthful, and definitely not himself. 

Then the room filled with salt water, and she was submerged in an ocean, completely alone. Her hands reached out, clawing at the surface as a black mass flew in the sky above. Then… she woke up.

Valeana looked down at her breakfast: eggs, toast, and herb & honeyed bacon. Resting her chin on her fist, she moved the contents around her plate with her fork. Instead of swallowing down food, she tried to swallow down the pit of dread lodged in her throat. 

On the morrow, she will have to spend part of her day with Jacaerys, an obligation that she must entertain. Valeana knew the dark-haired Prince was not what she wanted, even if he could have been worse. He wasn’t that bad when he was a child, unlike his brother, and at the very least he had grown handsome. It still would be a short courtship, no matter how much her father and Daemon wanted it. Val simply could not see herself falling for Jacaerys, even if they had all the time in the world. 

Then there was Aegon, a surprising yet not unwanted addition in her life. But presence simply just makes her life so painfully complicated. His drunken confessions, lewd and scandalous as they were, took root in her privy parts vividly. Valeana never had a voracious appetite for carnal pleasures; she was a maid, whose experience of her own pleasure has always been curious fingers whenever she felt lonely, felt the need for romance that she was convinced was not in her future. Though even before then, she couldn’t deny that his companionship had become a balm in her life recently. What he did for her would not be forgotten, and that made the notion of even tossing him away for Aemond feel traitorous and unfair. Even if their arrangement was constructed with that goal in mind. 

But giving up on Aemond after last night… that felt like she was spitting in the face of the gods themselves. Surely, they were the ones that put them together in the first place, and they had always intended to keep it that way, one way or another. The image of Aemond on his knees, sapphire and amethyst eyes, his hands upon her in desperation, his kisses on her brow and hands, his gentle laughter in her ear… it all pulled on her heartstrings like a lyre. She could not give him up now, now that he was finally back in her arms; now that she found her Aemond.

Her mind also drifted to Daemon, and all the things he said about her mother. Valeana doubted much of what he said, but she also doubted her own confidence in how much she really knew her mother; how much her father knew about her. Val supposed that the only person that would have the answers for her questions was… The King. Of all people alive, he knew her the longest, outside Daemon, who already showed his biases with a decades old grudge over a rejection. There wasn’t even a Lannister relative alive that was old enough to remember Lysa, so Viserys was truly her only option. 

Fitting the Queen for her dress offered Valeana a respite from her thoughts. The distraction was a blessing, now that she was able to concentrate on something more productive than matters of her indecisive heart. Rosy had come with her, her ever faithful assistant to these things. She tended to like doing the more tedious tasks, so Valeana had her cut the scales from the fabric that would cover the skirt of the dress. In the meanwhile, Valeana worked on the bodice, making sure it fit Alicent snugly so that the scales that she planned on sewing would appear more like a second skin rather than fabric. 

“You have quite the eye for detail, Lady Valeana,” Alicent commented as she watched her map out the designs using a chalk pencil. 

Val smiled up at her, a genuine one, despite being marred by stress, “You flatter me, your Grace.” 

Alicent had not been one for conversation ever since Valeana revealed her leg to her. There was a point in which Valeana wondered if she even remembered that she commissioned this dress from her, but her doubts were proven wrong when requests were brought to her by servants inquiring about the progress ever since Alicent returned from Dragonstone. 

There was a beat of silence in the room, the only noise was Rosy’s snipping of scissors and the birds chirping outside the slightly ajar window. Then the Queen broke it after spending several seconds watching Valeana work. 

“May I ask you something, Lady Valeana?”

Val looked up, surprised by the request when she needn’t ask permission. But at the same time she wanted to deny her, because she had a good list of possibilities of what Alicent could possibly ask of her, none of which she had a desire to answer.   

“Of course, your Grace,” Valeana replied anyway. 

“This business with Prince Jacaerys…” She trailed off, eyes flickering to the girl, and then down at her diligent hands as it worked the fabric. Alicent was afraid to tread on these waters, it sounded like. Almost as if she wanted to inch closer to something more delicate, rather than simple curiosity. “Is it something you want?” 

Valeana ran her tongue around her teeth before sucking against them in an attempt to stall. The answer was no, obviously, but she did not know if it would hinder or benefit her if she told Alicent the truth. With the tensions between the greens and blacks, Valeana toed the line between the two families, not knowing what side she should choose.

“It never matters what a daughter wants,” she decided on answering truthfully, without being direct. It didn’t entirely feel safe confiding in a woman who very well may be her political enemy in the future. Or future mother in law. 

Alicent accepted the answer, even hummed in agreement. She allowed the silence to settle for a moment again, but Valeana knew the questions were not over. Eventually, the Queen broke the silence again when she inhaled, the words finally finding her. 

“It came quite a surprise to me and his Grace that upon our return, we learned that our eldest son has been courting you, Lady Valeana.”

There it was, the real thing she wished to talk about. Val hadn’t even thought about what the Queen and King would think about her and Aegon together, if it was something they considered, if it was something they wanted. It would surely benefit the green’s cause, though Valeana suspects that Alicent still wanted Aegon to marry his sister. Which left… Aemond. That was why the Queen had tried to talk her into forgiving Aemond when she first arrived. Gods, how that felt like it was eons ago. 

“It was as much of a surprise to me, your Grace,” Valeana trained her eyes on her work. She felt Alicent was particularly good at gauging someone’s thoughts with just her eyes. They were so large and doe-like, which reminded Val of Aegon, the puppy-dog that he was. “Prince Aegon and I were not exactly friends as children.” 

“Which is why my husband and I thought it a strange development, one that no one foresaw,” Even if there were just the three of them in the room, and Rosy was on the far end, sitting on a settee, Alicent spoke in a little over a whisper. “Whatever did he do for you to overlook his past transgressions?” 

“Well,” Valeana collected her thoughts when she turned away to grab a needle and red thread, “He apologized sincerely, and he also has been nothing but kind, caring, helpful… and eventually affectionate.”

Alicent looked utterly unconvinced. The image that Valeana just wove with her red thread was of a complete stranger that had been calling himself Prince Aegon, playing her for a fool. 

A thin eyebrow was raised at that, “Kind, caring, and helpful?” she repeated the words, foreign descriptors of her eldest son. “Excuse my skepticism, but I’ve only known my son to be the very opposite.”

Valeana shrugged bashfully, “A moon ago I would’ve agreed with you.” She paused briefly in thought, then added: “But if it comforts you to know, your Grace, Prince Aegon is still just as cheeky as a monkey.” 

Alicent smiled in spite of herself, “That is comforting. I was afraid he was swapped with an imposter.”

Val bit her tongue before she could say, “Would that be a bad thing?”

The Queen cleared her throat, the tell tale sign of someone gearing up to say something difficult to say and hear. “I wanted to say, Valeana, that…knowing Aegon, I… I think it is within your best interest to not pursue things further with him.” 

Valeana glanced up at her for a moment, then back at her work. She decided not to say anything just yet. Alicent appeared to have much on her mind, and the younger, subordinate lady didn’t want to appear dismissive over her apparent worries. She was a mother, afterall, even if popular opinion dictated that she put the title of Queen before the other. 

“I will be plain with you. I owe you and your dear late mother that. I watched you grow up since the moment you were born within these very walls, and I would not wish to bear witness to another one of my sons hurting you again.” 

Val’s hands stopped working as she listened to Queen Alicent’s words closely. It was true that she knew the woman since birth, but Valeana had very few fond memories with Alicent. There were few sporadically, but she always seemed to keep Valeana at an arm’s distance, almost like she couldn’t trust her existence. She wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t warm. Not to mention, Valeana still remembered how much she advocated for Aemond not to get punished for what he had done. 

“You feel that he intends to take advantage of me,” it wasn’t a question. Valeana could feel Alicent’s eyes penetrate her profile once she resumed her stitching. 

“You must know it is in his nature to do such a thing,” the woman bowed her chin in an attempt to capture the younger’s eyes. “Aegon has an… appetite for chaos, as much as he has one for drink and pleasures of the flesh. I fear he may be using you as a weapon against Aemond, simply out of entertainment.”

And this is the man you are trying to put a crown on? Another thing Valeana had to bite her tongue for. 

Val forced herself to smile up at her reassuringly, “I’ll take your warning to consideration, your Grace. I only hesitate because he has not shown that unscrupulous side to me. It has only ever been the very opposite.” 

The ends of Alicent’s mouth tightened, but she nodded nonetheless, “I only wish for you to be careful.”

“I will, your Grace. Your concern is appreciated and noted.”

“And–” she inhaled, squaring her shoulders, “I hope that you may extend Aemond the same courtesy of forgiveness as you did Aegon, in time at least.”

The memory of last night was still fresh in her mind, like that blessed dream that had her wake up with damp thighs and a sense of carnal hunger. Her cheeks pinked at the memory of Aemond’s gentle kisses on her palms and head, reverent in contrast to his devouring kisses on her breasts so many nights ago. 

It was hard to stop herself from smiling, and albeit small, Alicent noticed it immediately. 

“My relationship with Aemond is… complicated, your Grace,” Valeana carefully spoke, deciding to tiptoe around the truth. She wasn’t entirely comfortable sharing the breadth of the story just yet. “But… the steps towards reconciliation have taken place.”

“You speak true?” Alicent’s doe eyes glittered hopefully, “When did this take place?”

Valeana bit her lip, an attempt at reigning in her smile from becoming a full grin. She wanted to bury her face in the fabrics of the half-finished gown, embarrassed of the glow upon her face. Alicent was the first person that she had told this to, even a fraction of it. 

“We had a long discussion sometime during the Ball last night,” Val confessed, surprising herself for doing so. “It is still early days, your Grace.”

Alicent’s brow twitched slightly as she tried to recall a moment in which that could have happened at all. There was one when she could not spot Aemond in the crowd, sometime after she had dismissed Valeana to reprimand Aegon for his drunken display. A great, albeit silent sigh caused her shoulders to sag, as if a large weight of stress had been lifted off them. 

“Oh, my dear Valeana, that brings me much happiness,” Alicent pulled her little seamstress to her in a hug. Valeana’s eyes bugged out of her head, body stiff under the embrace of the Queen. “It brings me much peace.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur. After she had finished up with Alicent, she had brought the dress back to her family’s wing to finish a few adjustments. That evening she shared her supper with Ellyn, Wylla, Shyla, Catelyn, and Sharis and Malora Tyrell on the terrace above the training yard. There were men still down there, even when the sun was setting, trying to get as much training done before the beginning of the tourney. The seven girls simply watched in silence, sipping wine and eating grapes and berries. When the wine started to ease their sensibilities, they started to wolf whistle at every man who removed their shirt to combat against the evening humidity. 

Valeana squinted down at the men, not recognizing a single one. One of them walked around languidly with confidence, his brown hair was braided down to the nape of his neck, the sides shaved, giving him a rugged appearance despite his shaven face. His tunic was loose on him, covered in dirt and a bit of blood from the sparring. He was the loudest of them all and the most boisterous when it came to his audience of women that were seated above the yard. He would grin and bow at them after defeating his opponents, blow kisses and throw winks. The Tyrell sisters were absolutely smitten with him. 

“Who is he?” Valeana asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He seemed familiar, but from this height, she could barely make out his face through all the dirt and sweat. She took a sip of her drink in contemplation.

“Dalton Greyjoy.”

And then she spat out her drink. 

While Ellyn, Wylla, and her sister laughed – being the only three people present that knew the lore – Dalton turned to look up at the commotion, his intense steely blues on Valeana in an instant. At the sight of her sinking into her chair like a dying python, he grinned and laughed, giving her a small wave. 

Cat laughed in confusion, “Do the two of you know each other?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Valeana pulled a cushion off the sofa and put it in front of her face. 

Suddenly the girls started to wolf whistle again, and Val – out of morbid curiosity – moved the pillow away from her face to take a look. Dalton had finally pulled off his filthy tunic, exposing his lithe and muscular frame, littered with aged white scars, and black tattoos that she couldn’t quite make out. 

He grinned up at her with that shark grin of his, “What are you lookin’ for, Celtigar?!”

Val’s eyes narrowed annoyingly, then looked over at her sister who was giggling like a maniac. Suddenly numb to her embarrassment, Valeana sat up in her seat and peered down at him over the balustrade in clear distaste. 

“Bruises!” 

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. Then he turned around to face back towards his audience. To her absolute horror, Dalton shimmied down his breeches to expose his pale rear end. 

“All cleared up, I’m afraid!” 

The girls screamed and whistled, and Valeana sank down to the floor, face as red as the crabs that marched across her house’s banners. 

Valeana called it a night shortly after that, dragging a reluctant Shyla with her.  As they got dressed and clambered into their beds, the exhaustion of the last few days slowly seeped into her bones. Shyla was the first to pass out, as usual, but despite her body’s fatigue, Valeana had a difficult time shutting off her mind. Eventually sleep started to creep up on her, with her final thoughts lingering on the wish to not have to bump into Dalton “The Red Arsed” Greyjoy again. 

Just when her mind is pulled under the surface of her subconscious, Valeana could feel a dip in her bed. Too tired physically and mentally react, she simply remains still, trying to cling to sleep, convincing herself she just imagined it. 

“Valeana,” She could hear her name being called next to her ear, but she was convinced it was simply auditory hallucinations produced by exhaustion. 

“Valeana, wake up.” 

She made a loud snore when she inhaled violently, which made the voice chuckle softly next to her. Then, just when she thought the mysterious voice left her, something pinched her nose, causing her to gasp through her mouth and jostle up from her pillow. 

In her delirium, she did not notice anything immediately, not until her eyes focused on the body laying next to her on her bed. Shock jolted her awake immediately, her mouth opened to scream, but a firm hand covered it.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he said, putting a finger to his lips. “It’s just me.” 

Val’s eyes settled into a glare, her lips curling into a snarl when his hand dropped from her mouth. 

“Aegon, I am going to kill you.”

He laughed softly, “All in due time.”

“What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“Get up; put your robe on.” 

She eyed him suspiciously, “...Why?”

“Strap on your peg leg, Crab Cake, and get your pretty little arse out of bed. Then I’ll tell you.” 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX SNEAK PEAK

He decided to chuckle nervously again, wondering if she was joking, almost praying that she was. “Mayhaps we should call it a night. You are forgetting yourself, Crab Cake.” “I’m not,” was her immediate reply. “I’m… I’m curious. And I want to see… I want to try.”

Notes: So before you ask -- yes, there will be a prequel MINI series about Lysa Lannister, staring our favourite perverted uncle. Won't be out for a while, but you're gonna be seeing the ground work in the next few chapters regarding her mom's past. For those that are waiting on the Fem!Aegon one shot, please be patient with me, I keep on rewriting the last section of it. I'm not super satisfied with it yet. I don't want to give a definitive date, because I don't want to make promises I can't keep.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[freesia-writes]

Chapter 2: School

Enjoy a riveting tale of romance, suspense, adventure, and self-discovery as Hunter finds his path after the events of TBB. Rated PG-13 for some mild suspense, suggestive talk, alcohol and drug use, and adult themes. Banner and dividers by @pinkiemme ~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: School (Word Count: 2.7k)

Hunter winced, one hand on his shoulder as he moved his arm in a circle, trying to work out the sore spot from the morning’s wrestle with an angry bruallki that had apparently only feigned death from his shot. He’d had time to hunt, spend a few hours in his shop, and get cleaned up before heading up the hill to Omega’s school. It was a plain rectangular building on top of a grassy plain that housed students from the youngest grade levels up to young adults within its brick walls, but the island wasn’t too populated so the classes usually consisted of about 10 to 15 students each. He opened the door to the office, shifting his bag on his other shoulder as the attendance clerk looked up at him brightly.

After checking in, Hunter was free to walk the halls in search of Omega, who was late in meeting him at their usual spot in front of the school. It wasn’t unheard of — she was usually either caught up in conversation with one of the staff members she’d taken a liking to or lost in thought from diving into one of her assignments as soon as she could. True to form, Hunter soon found her in the back of the administrative wing, in a little corner office that was full of dark wooden furniture. There were a few small, warm lamps, and there was Omega, relaxing in a cozy chair in front of a plain desk with a chiseled nameplate sitting on its corner: Lyra Vetana, Records Clerk.

The woman behind the desk looked to be a bit older than him, or what Hunter assumed it looked like for nat-borns, with long brown hair that was mostly straight, a somewhat angular jaw, and smile lines around her mouth and eyes. She was currently nodding slowly at whatever Omega was sharing, and as Hunter approached, he caught her attention, her gaze soon followed by Omega’s, who piped up immediately.

“Oh hey Hunter! Sorry I’m late. Lyra was just sharing about what past students have done during their apprenticeship year. She’s got a bunch of great ideas!”

“Yeah?” Hunter answered, shifting his focus to Lyra, who shook her head with a small smile. 

“Just what the kids have come up with,” she corrected, straightening a random pile of papers off to the side. “But I apologize for holding you up.” Her voice was smooth, with just a little bit of husky texture that made it imperfectly pleasant, and it matched her humble and unassuming demeanor. Hunter could see why Omega appreciated her company; she had a steady, soothing presence, although it seemed somewhat flat. 

“It’s alright, just got some work to do before dinner,” Omega reassured her, rising to her feet and pulling her backpack out of the chair beside her. “Which I bet is steak again, right?” She aimed the question at Hunter, who exhaled through his nose as he tilted his head at her.

“Look, you should be happy that I can cook anything at all, you know…”

“I’m just kidding,” Omega said, patting his shoulder as though she were the parent. “You’re doing great, and you’ve come so far!” Hunter resisted the urge to roll his eyes, although her words carried some weight, and he caught what looked like a condescending smile on Lyra’s face. 

“I make salad too…” he grumbled, and Lyra turned a laugh into a cough so quickly it made him second guess what he’d heard, squinting at her as she turned to move that same stack of papers all of a sudden.

“Shoot! I need my interview journal; I left it in my locker. Be right back, and then we can go!” Omega announced, trotting out the door to leave Hunter standing awkwardly in front of where Lyra was seated at her desk. But then he realized a potential solution to an argument he’d had that morning with Omega. 

“Hey, quick question…” he began, looking over his shoulder before dropping into one of the chairs in front of Lyra’s desk. “I… ah… Omega’s very special, and… I know it’s real safe here and all, but… We’re still new, and I just want to make sure… she’s alright… you know. And I know she comes to talk to you often, and you have been here at the school for a while…” He rummaged in his small sling bag for a moment, finding it hard to meet Lyra’s curious gaze.

He found what he was looking for and held it up for her to see. It looked like it could have been a large button from a piece of clothing, but upon closer inspection one could see that it was a different kind of button — a small metal cylinder that could be flipped open with a raised round part to press inside. “Would you do me a favor and hang onto this? It’s… it’s an emergency beacon, and if anything ever happens, you press it and we can be here immediately. Omega refused to keep it on her, but… I just…”

Lyra regarded it, and him, with an unreadable expression, brow furrowing for a moment before relaxing. She held out her hand, inviting Hunter to give it to her, but he paused. 

“Look, I know it seems paranoid, or overly protective, but there’s a lot that I just can’t explain, and I know you’ll probably never have to use it, but it would just make me feel better if—“ 

“I get it,” Lyra interrupted reassuringly, giving him a small, serious nod as she beckoned for him to place it in her palm. He felt a disproportionate cascade of relief; maybe he’d built this up more than necessary in his head, but he appreciated knowing there were extra safety measures in place. “I don’t see her all the time, but if there’s ever an emergency, I’ll let you and her mom know.”

“No mom,” Hunter shook his head, “Just me.”

“Oh, sorry— you said ‘we’ could be here right away, so I just thought—“

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “Me and our brothers.”

“Got it,” Lyra said quietly, closing her fingers around both the button and a million unasked questions. 

“Thanks,” Hunter said, nodding in finality before rising to his feet. He leaned out the doorway, peering down the hall and still finding no sign of Omega, then returned to his post just inside the door, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. He was still getting used to the social situations outside of war, and truth be told, he sometimes missed the rushed simplicity of mission after life-threatening mission. Casting a glance back to Lyra, he was somewhat relieved to find that she’d pulled some other files out of a folder and was tapping away at her keyboard. He couldn’t get a read on her… was she dismissive? Standoffish? Content? Or just didn’t feel the need to force conversation? 

“So ah, what is it you do here again?” he asked, the words flowing without his permission. He cringed inwardly, hating the complexity of civilian life at times, but Lyra paused her typing and met his gaze with a patient warmth that lessened his anxious overthinking.

“I’m a records clerk, which means I have the great esteem and honor of filing away every transcript, work study application, apprenticeship offer, accommodations meeting notes, and so on. Basically, if it happens here, I record it here. And if people need any data from the archives, I’m the one to find it for them,” she answered, poking fun at the seeming unimportance of her job without the full cynicism of one who legitimately resented their duties. 

“Sounds peaceful,” was all that Hunter could think to say, and his estimation was met with a slow nod.

“It is,” Lyra agreed, the faintest smile touching her thoughtful expression. “And you? What keeps you busy on the island?”

“I’m a hunter, ironically enough,” he answered, smirking dryly. “And a butcher. I have a meat shop down in The Cobbles,” he continued, referring to the part of town just above the beaches that was the notorious center for businesses, restaurants, galleries, and city government offices.

“Ahh,” came the enlightened realization. “Yes. I’ve heard of it from other staff members here.” Hunter wondered what else she’d heard, but judging by any response he could sense, there was nothing more to it. “Not a lot of imports on the island, so everything you sell is from here?”

“Freshly blasted daily,” Hunter said with a mock chipperness that made them both snort. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite figure out, whether she was genuinely enjoying the conversation or just tolerating it, whether she had more to say or was simply killing the time they were forced to interact. But he supposed it didn’t matter much, and as they fell silent again, Hunter could hear familiar footsteps approaching.

“Well, I appreciate you being here for Omega… and all the other kids,” he said quietly, and he caught a wistfulness on her face before it disappeared instantly. Lyra smiled and nodded demurely, brightening up when she saw Omega in the doorway. 

“Ready?” the girl asked Hunter, beaming back and forth between him and Lyra.

“Ready,” he echoed, giving Lyra a polite dip of the head before taking his leave.

The house that Hunter and Omega shared was not far from Tech and Phee’s, sitting on the side of the hills that stretched up from the beaches in rugged terrain peppered with large boulders and cliffs. The island had an interesting layout – large, flat beaches wrapping around the entire coast, then The Cobbles, an aptly-named cobblestoned street with storefronts spaced out neatly on both sides, punctuated by a few older residences, a small garden, and some town governance buildings. The entire island was fairly cut off from most everything else in the galaxy, with very few trade connections, resulting in a harmonious self-sufficiency where each person specialized and contributed to the overall good through commerce or direct trade. The business area was the one main street that stretched in a gentle upward slope from the beach to the cliffs, where it stopped abruptly.

The island topography continued to rise from there, slowly but steadily, with houses peppered across the hills above The Cobbles. There were trees and meadows scattered across the land, and the majority of the population lived on the western side of the island in small homes or flat, layered apartment buildings that were spread out above the business district. The apartment complexes huddled together around the Town Square, a large, open area full of string lights, street vendors, food carts, and an endless array of farmer’s markets, cultural events, musical performances, and so on. Single-family homes were spaced out more along the walking paths that snaked up and down the island, nestled among trees and hills. 

A few were tucked further into The Forest, which covered the eastern side of the island in a rugged, dense landscape full of trees and rivers. It was virtually unpopulated save for the houses on its western edge. Near the top of the island, above the layers of homes, lay a large, grassy meadow that stretched out in soothingly gentle slopes. A few ranches had settled around it, utilizing the perfect supply of everything they needed to raise agriculture, and off to one corner of the space sat the school. The highest point of the island was a small mountain upon which they’d built an observatory, although it was chronically out of order. Life on Xylo was a cozy, quiet way, punctuated with whatever creativity the locals could concoct. There were a few other populated islands on the planet as well, each having its own specialty and unique feel.

Hunter brushed his hands on his apron, the soothing bumps of embroidery warming his heart as he remembered Omega’s beaming face when she’d gifted it to him. It was the initial product of her first job shadow, and she’d chosen a plain gray fabric on which to hand-sew her best attempt at two large 9s in Aurebesh as well as a rudimentary copy of Hunter’s half-skull tattoo. 

The meat sizzled in the pan as he turned it, spattering hot grease in response to his prodding. He’d added some herbs this time, filling the entire house with the mouthwatering scent of perfectly-balanced flavors. Omega was chopping vegetables on the wood block next to him, chattering happily about the amazing variety of local produce that was supposed to be available at the next farmer’s market. 

It had been a hard decision when they settled on the island of whether to live together as they always had or to try to branch out into their own spaces. Phee had commandeered Tech into a home of their own, Echo was interested in the communal setup of one of the small neighborhoods, and Crosshair had found a peaceful home with Batcher in the same area, leaving Wrecker and Hunter staring awkwardly at each other. It had worked out quite well, however, as Hunter had found a cozy house in a small clearing surrounded by trees that also included a comically small additional unit across the tiny meadow that was a perfect fit for Wrecker in every way except his size. But the brawny clone had a knack for construction and had single-handedly remodeled the entire thing to be more suitable. The main dwelling on the property was a typical “cabin in the woods”, and with a few modifications had become a soothing place of respite for both Hunter and Omega, whose small bedrooms branched off the main room that boasted a large fireplace and plenty of wood-hewn furniture. 

“This is my new favorite,” Omega said, as they dug into their dinner.

“The bacon-wrapped sirloin was the best so far,” Wrecker mumbled through a mouthful. He had a knack for showing up right at dinnertime, and his presence always filled the room with even more warmth and joviality. That, paired with the fact that he almost always trundled in with his latest catch over his shoulder, had solidified his place at the table above and beyond the fact that he was family. 

“This sauce on that steak would be fun to try,” Hunter mused. 

“Oh! I’ve got a trip coming up!” Omega announced, pushing her food to the side of her mouth and waving her fork excitedly.

“Yeah?” Hunter asked, tilting his head curiously. “For what?” 

“Madame Dreyfus is going to take me on a purchasing run where she selects all of her base fabrics and shows me what to look for. Then she’ll show me which types are most conducive to different colors and types of dyes.”

“Sounds fun!” Wrecker exclaimed, attempting to counterbalance the trepidation he could hear in Hunter’s voice. 

“Mhm,” Hunter conceded, “Where does she go for that?”

“One of the other islands; I forget the name,” Omega answered. 

“Plata?” Wrecker asked, grinning at Hunter’s sharp look in his direction. He was referring to the second largest island on the planet, notorious for its vibrant nightlife and “you only live once” sort of atmosphere. 

“No,” Omega laughed, “One of the agricultural ones.” 

“Oh. Sounds good,” Hunter said slowly. “Just you and her?” 

“Us, two seamstresses, and their students!”

“I don’t know,” Wrecker said in hesitant, drawn-out syllables that made both Hunter and Omega look at him quizzically, but the thinly-veiled mischief in his eyes gave him away immediately. “I’m not sure Hunter can manage without you. How long will you be gone?” His attempt at consternation was met with a delighted giggle from the girl, who tilted her head at Hunter with a playful, motherly expression.

“You’ll have to keep an eye on him for me, Wreck,” she replied in her chipper voice. “The trip is three days long! And this whole year includes trips with our mentors, so he’s gonna have to get used to it!”

“Aaawwww, Hunter,” Wrecker fawned, “What are you gonna do?”

“I guess I’ll find a way to survive,” Hunter stated dramatically, the gleam in his eye belying his own intent. Omega’s chuckle was drowned in the boom of Wrecker’s laugh, and the three of them finished their dinners in good spirits.

Previous Chapter  ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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[nickchamomile]

Well.. I want to talk about a little lore in the Habit family, namely about the three brothers.

Andrey Habit (fanon name) - Boris's father

Grigory Habit - The well-known fanon Uncle Boris

And Pavel Habit - another uncle of Boris, whom, unfortunately, he never saw, because he died in the w@r.

They are triplets, and were born on April 14, 1924. And despite the fact that they are triplets, they differ from each other both in height and in character (and in appearance, of course.) But at the same time, they are friendly and love each other, even if some are embarrassed to show it.

Pavel - A tall and sweet guy with a kind soul and a cheerful spirit, and despite every mess that usually happens to him with his brothers during their time, he is always ready to go with them through thick and thin. Pasha can be called a “mama’s boy,” and it’s true that before he passed away, he was his mother’s favorite, which he didn’t particularly like, because he wanted everyone to be loved equally. he is "ENFJ". Pavel is an understanding and friendly young man, albeit shy, but this did not even stop him from finding a girl before his brothers! The girl's name was Lyra, and there was tender love between them, without any quarrels or mistrust. As Lyra herself would say: “Unlike other men, Pasha knows how to love the soul.”

Grisha - or as everyone used to call him “Grigory”, unlike what he is like now as an adult, as a child - he was a very active child who gets bored, but you won’t get bored with him. In their village, he was like the “Thunderstorm of the area”, even at a more mature age, at about 16 years old, he still loved to play children and spend time with his brothers, although usually his martyr for his own entertainment was always Pavel, because Pavel was I agree to everything for the sake of my brothers. In addition, Grigory was always closer to Pasha, because he could open up to him and not be ashamed of himself and have fun with him, which was not the case with Andrey. Since I said that they have different characters, this was sometimes not beneficial for Grisha and Andrey. There were inconsistencies, misunderstandings, and sometimes even quarrels. And somewhere closer to that very Second World W@r, they became closer to each other. However, in adulthood Grisha was in no hurry to find a girlfriend. He believed that all the girls around him were not the ones he was looking for. And, as he said, “Fate itself will tell you which “the one” is... I will fall at her feet.” He said... and that’s how he met his “same one” a few years later, when he wanted to EPICALLY get out of the car, but got caught on the carpet in the car and fell, by the way, “Dolores” right at her feet. He is an ЕNTP, for him, probably, his family is just as important... as his own opinion.

And Andrey - Among the brothers, he is probably, as he believes, the most “correct”, “adult” and “serious”. Which is probably why he and Grisha had little quarrels. Andrei began to grow up and become more serious a little earlier, due to obsessive thoughts that “If I am an adult and serious, society will accept me.”, which is why he, of course, did not play much with his brothers. But despite this, he still goes where the brothers go. And despite his seemingly firmness, Andrei loves his brothers, even Grisha, he just doesn’t know how to express his feelings, like Pavel or Grisha. But mostly, Andrei makes comments to Grigory, thinking that he will probably always be childish. After Pasha’s death, Andrei became that “mama’s boy,” which he was not against. He is ISTJ. And despite its hardness, perhaps somewhere there, there is still love... probably.

Unfortunately, after Pavel's death, their family fell apart. The mother blamed the father for allegedly leading the children into such danger, because of which they lost one son, and even blamed Grigory, because he did not save his brother in time. Because of which, after this, the children were divided. Grigory grew up with his father, and Andrey with his mother.

And the date of Pavel’s death: June 24, 1944.

This is how the story went. Thanks for your opinion <:0)