#ALSO the image of him having a serious look as he competes

[butteronabun]

ghsshjdjdjdjsjsjhs street racer!diluc……. thinking many thoughts rn hhhh… he’s so hot 😍🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 and so sexy… anyone interested in a fic where racer diluc has tension with the reader sgdjhdjd 🫣

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us VI

Summary:

Things between Y.N and Aemond get tense as her due date approaches.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Petty Disagreements, Frustration, Kissing, Allusion to Sex, Labour, Child Birth.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 4750

A.N - Took Inspiration from Friends (The one where Rachel is late).

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

As Y.N’s due date approached, the final weeks of her pregnancy were a flurry of last-minute preparations.

She and Aemond made multiple trips to baby stores, ticking off the remaining items on their list: tiny baby clothes, boxes of nappies, and, of course, the pram.

Aemond, for all his intelligence and competence in other areas, found himself stumped by the bloody contraption.

One evening, they stood in the living room as he tried to fold the pram down. Y.N. sat on the sofa, watching him with growing amusement.

"How do you manage this with just a few clicks?" Aemond grumbled, pressing buttons, pulling levers, but the pram remained stubbornly upright.

Y.N. laughed so hard she clutched her belly.

"It’s not that hard. Watch." She stood up and, with a few quick movements, had the pram folded and set aside.

Aemond stared at the pram, then at her, and back at the pram. "You’re mocking me," he muttered, but a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Seeing her joy, even at his expense, was worth the mild humiliation.

They also hosted Alicent for dinner one evening and she had practically melted at the sight of the nursery.

The soft, cream and blue décor, the dragon mobile, and the carefully arranged baby furniture brought a wide smile to her face.

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent said, her eyes bright with pride, “This is perfect. The baby will be so loved here.”

Meanwhile, Aemond had reluctantly resumed his game nights with Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena.

While he loved spending time with his siblings, Aegon’s constant teasing about Y.N. still irritated him to no end.

He was convinced that his brother harboured a playful, if not slightly serious, attraction to her.

The knowing looks Aegon would shoot him during the evenings, paired with the offhanded comments about how lucky Aemond was, drove him mad.

Yet, for Y.N.’s sake, he kept his cool—mostly.

Except for that one incident where he may or may not have accidentally on purpose shoved Aegon's head into the table when Y.N excused herself and went to the bathroom.

At home, Y.N. had taken time off from her job and settled into a comfortable routine as her pregnancy neared its end.

However, as she edged closer to 40 weeks, she grew increasingly frustrated.

"I feel like a balloon about to pop," she grumbled one evening, sprawled on the sofa while Aemond massaged her swollen feet.

Aemond, who was trying to remain calm on the outside but was secretly on pins and needles every day at work, nodded sympathetically.

"It’ll happen when the baby is ready," he said, though inside he was just as eager as she was.

Every time his phone buzzed during meetings, he found himself hoping it was her saying it was time, only to be met with disappointment.

He had taken to keeping his phone on the loudest setting, checking it obsessively, and texting her constantly to make sure she was alright.

Each day that passed without that long-awaited call made him more anxious.

The tension in the penthouse had been unbearable over the last few days. Y.N.’s growing discomfort and frustration with being overdue had turned every small annoyance into a full-blown argument.

Aemond, while trying to be as patient as possible, found himself at a loss. Everything he did seemed to irritate her.

If he tried to comfort her, she snapped. If he gave her space, she complained he was being distant. It was driving him insane, but he knew it wasn’t really her fault.

Their sex life had also dwindled into sparse encounters, because Y.N was getting too uncomfortable and Aemond was worried about hurting the baby, which Y.N took completely the wrong way and became convinced he was disgusted by her and she bawled her eyes out until he took her to bed and devoured her cunt like a starving man.

One night, things came to a head. After yet another disagreement, Y.N. stormed off to the spare room and slammed the door shut, refusing to speak to him for two days.

Aemond, for his part, left her alone, but the silence between them weighed heavily, filling the apartment with a tension that was almost suffocating.

He kept telling himself it was just the stress and hormones, but it didn’t make it any easier.

And neither did Aegon's closeness to Y.N, it would grate on Aemond consistantly, that he would bear the brunt of her frustration but Aegon would get the smiles and the joy when he would sneak her chilli cheese bites from Burger King or Hot Wings from KFC.

Even Daeron was granted her smiles but him nooooo he was only granted the version of her that resembled a man eating beast from those damn movies she liked so much.

Sometimes she would glare at him and Aemond was convinced that she was about to eat him alive.

The tension only grew worse when they attended her final midwife appointment. They sat in the examination room, the air thick with unspoken frustrations.

As they waited for the midwife, Marie, to arrive, Aemond began rhythmically tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Y.N. shot him a glare. “Tell me, Aemond, have you always been this irritating?” she snapped.

Aemond frowned, glancing over at her. "I'm not trying to irritate you."

"Well, I guess you just have a natural talent for it," she retorted, her voice sharp and biting.

Aemond sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You know, the midwife will be here soon. Maybe we shouldn’t speak until then."

Y.N. pulled a face, her irritation flaring even more. "Oh, okay then," she said mockingly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the room filled with palpable tension.

But Y.N., too restless to let it go, spoke up again.

"Seriously, Aemond, breathe louder. That’s great," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aemond clenched his jaw, shooting her a look. "You know, we should probably ask the midwife if she even knows how to deliver a baby that’s half human and half pure evil."

Before Y.N. could respond, the door opened, and Marie entered the room, wearing her usual kind smile.

"Good morning, Marie! How are you?" Y.N. greeted her with a smile that was shockingly pleasant considering the argument she’d just been having.

Aemond shot her a sideways glance, his frustration bubbling over. "Oh, so you’re nice to her," he muttered darkly.

Y.N. rounded on him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "She has the drugs," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Marie, ever professional, pretended not to notice the exchange as she began her checkup.

"Alright, Y.N., let’s have a quick look," she said gently. Y.N. lay back on the examination table, opening her legs as Marie prepared for the exam.

"Eight days late now, huh? You must be getting pretty uncomfortable," Marie commented sympathetically.

Y.N. let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, just a bit," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Aemond scoffed beside her, but said nothing more.

Marie began the examination, then smiled up at them. "Well, you’re 80% effaced, so things are definitely progressing. But it could still take a little while longer," she explained. "If you’re feeling anxious, there are a few ways to help things along."

"Do them" Aemond blurted out, leaning forward.

The stress of the last few days, combined with his helplessness in this situation, was starting to show.

Marie gave him an understanding smile. "Actually, they’re things you can do at home. Some natural remedies that have been shown to be effective in helping labour along."

Y.N. nodded eagerly. "We’re ready to try anything," she said.

Marie began to list off the options. "Well, there’s an herbal tea you can try, eating spicy food, and taking long walks—"

"Great," Y.N. interrupted. "I’ll do those."

Marie smiled but hesitated for a moment before continuing. "However, there’s one remedy that’s proven to be most effective in encouraging labour-and that’s sex."

Y.N. looked at Aemond with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but Aemond’s face immediately fell into a look of disbelief.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Aemond and Y.N sat in the penthouse, the dinner table littered with empty plates from what felt like the hundredth spicy meal they'd shared in hopes of triggering labour.

Y.N poked at her remaining enchilada, sighing in frustration.

"Aemond, we've tried all the spicy food. It's not working," she said, exasperated.

Aemond, ever determined, pushed a small plate toward her.

"Okay, how about one of these peppers? It’s supposed to be really hot." He sounded so sure of himself, as he picked on up and took a bite.

Gasping in surprise when the spice burnt his mouth.

Y.N looked at him, rolled her eyes, but took the pepper anyway, popping it into her mouth.

She chewed it with no visible reaction, much to Aemond’s disbelief.

His eye widened as he watched her, while he took a sip of water to cool his burning tongue.

"I feel nothing," she said, almost too casually, as Aemond continued to sip from his glass. Y.N then looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Speaking of hot, watching you struggle with that pepper really makes me want to have sex with you."

Aemond nearly choked on his water, setting the glass down with a thud.

"Stop it," he muttered, wiping his mouth.

"Oh, come on," Y.N teased. "Why are we wasting time with all this other stuff? We know what's going to work. It's midwife recommended."

"We have to have some boundaries," Aemond said sternly, his resolve trying to hold firm.

Y.N scoffed. "You didn’t care about boundaries when you were putting the baby in there." She crossed her arms and raised a brow at him.

Aemond shot her a look. "As I recall, you were also an active participant."

Y.N waved her hand dismissively. "That’s not the point, and you know it."

Aemond sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’m not going to make love to you just so you’ll go into labour."

Y.N laughed loudly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Make love? What are you, a girl?"

"Always a great way to get into a man’s pants," Aemond muttered sarcastically, rolling his eye.

"No-come on wuss, make loooove to me" said Y.N smirking.

"Seriously-" exclaimed Aemond.

Y.N leaned forward, her voice dripping with humour. "Come on, just think of it as providing a service. Just think of me as a ketchup bottle—sometimes you’ve gotta bang on the end of it to get something out."

Aemond shot her a deadpan look, his voice flat. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Aemy-" Y.N whined, pouting a little as she leaned her elbows on the table. "I’m miserable here." She looked at him with wide eyes, batting her lashes playfully, and the use of her nickname for him weakened his resolve.

Aemond clenched his jaw. "You—what—never mind."

"What, Aemy? Are you not going to talk?" she teased, mockingly. "How on earth will you ever annoy me? Oh, wait a minute, I know—" She exaggerated her breathing, mimicking the way Aemond breathed loudly, then added with a smirk, "You’d think that damn pepper would’ve cleared your sinuses, but nooo-"

Before she could say anything more, Aemond lunged toward her, pulling her into a deep, heated kiss that took her by surprise.

Y.N blinked up at him, breathless. "What are you doing?"

He took her hand firmly, standing up and pulling her toward the bedroom, his face set with determination. "I’m getting that baby out of you."

Aemond was jolted awake by the sound of a pained cry and the sharp clatter of glass smashing. His heart pounded in his chest as he shot up in bed, immediately noticing that Y.N. wasn’t beside him.

Panic surged through him as he leapt out of bed, rushing toward the source of the noise.

Entering the kitchen, he found Y.N. hunched over, clutching the counter, her face twisted in pain. A shattered glass lay scattered across the floor.

"Y.N.?" he called out, his voice tight with concern.

She turned her head toward him, her face pale and strained. "I think it's time," she gasped before letting out another cry, her body wracked with pain.

Without hesitation, Aemond carefully made his way over, avoiding the broken glass, and gently took her hand. She clung to him, shaking as he helped move her away from the mess.

Y.N. suddenly gasped, looking down as a trickle of water began to run down her legs. Her wide eyes met his, fear and excitement swirling within them.

"It's definitely time," Aemond confirmed, trying to remain calm despite the rapid thudding of his heart.

"I need to get changed first," she whispered through laboured breaths.

Aemond helped her to the bedroom, supporting her as they slowly made their way across the penthouse.

He carefully dressed her in comfortable clothes, his fingers trembling as he moved. Then he quickly threw on jeans and a shirt, grabbing the suitcase Y.N. had packed weeks ago.

Just as they were about to leave, another contraction hit, and Y.N. cried out in pain, her hand clutching Aemond’s forearm tightly.

His heart ached at the sight of her discomfort, but he stayed steady, whispering reassurances.

"You're doing great. Just breathe," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

He grabbed his car keys, and together, they made their way out of the penthouse.

The drive to the hospital was agonizing for Aemond, though he tried his best to keep calm.

Every pained cry or sharp gasp from Y.N. made his hands tighten on the wheel, his heart clenching painfully.

He hated seeing her in so much discomfort, knowing there was little he could do but get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Finally, they arrived. Aemond parked the car and immediately helped Y.N. inside, gripping her hand as she leaned on him for support.

He helped her check in at the front desk, and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice trembling.

"Please, don’t leave me," she whispered, her fear evident.

Aemond's heart clenched, and he pulled her closer, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "I won’t ever leave you. I promise."

"I-I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you"

"It's ok-it's all forgotten" replied Aemond.

As she was being checked over by the nurses, Aemond quickly sent off a text to his mother, letting her know that Y.N. was in labour.

He then shot off a quick message to Helaena, knowing she’d take care of informing Aegon and Daeron.

The moment he heard Y.N. calling for him, his phone was forgotten. He rushed back into the room, his heart pounding with urgency.

"I'm here," he said softly, taking her hand in his as he knelt beside her. "I’m not going anywhere."

Hours had passed, and the labour had intensified. Y.N was in agony as each contraction ripped through her body, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Aemond remained at her side the entire time, unable to bear seeing her like this. His heart ached with every pained cry she made.

He had lashed out at the midwives more than once, demanding they do something—anything—to help her.

But all they could do was reassure him that everything was progressing as it should.

Despite his own helpless frustration, Aemond never let go of Y.N's hand, even as she squeezed it with such force he was sure his bones would crack under the pressure.

But he would endure it without a second thought. Pressing kisses to her sweat-soaked forehead, he whispered constant encouragement, telling her to breathe, reminding her she was doing great.

And then, it was time to push.

Y.N cried out, her strength nearly spent. "I don’t know if I can keep doing this," she gasped, her voice trembling with exhaustion.

Aemond immediately leaned in, his forehead pressed to hers, his voice low but firm. "Yes, you can. You’re the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I can’t live without you." His words were filled with so much love and admiration that despite her pain, Y.N found the strength to push again.

The midwife, Marie, encouraged her as the baby’s head crowned. "Just one more, Y.N. You’re so close!"

With a final scream, Y.N pushed, and suddenly, the sound of a baby’s strong, healthy cries filled the room.

Aemond’s voice trembled as he whispered, "He’s here. Oh, gods, he’s here."

Y.N, exhausted, collapsed back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

But Aemond’s joyful cry brought her back. She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up, her chest heaving as she took in the sight of their newborn son.

Aemond, eyes filled with unshed tears, helped her sit up, his hands trembling.

As Marie placed the squalling, wriggling newborn onto Y.N's chest, happy tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, he’s so beautiful," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion as she gazed down at their son.

Aemond, who rarely allowed his emotions to show so openly, sobbed quietly as he stared at the tiny life they had created.

His eye was glued to the baby’s small, delicate features—his tiny hands, his soft, silver hair, and those piercing blue eyes.

"He looks just like you," Y.N said softly, running her fingers through the baby’s soft hair. She smiled up at Aemond, who was rendered speechless by the overwhelming love he felt.

His child. Their son.

Marie gently asked, "Does he have a name?"

Y.N nodded, her voice filled with pride and love. "Jack Aemond Targaryen."

As the midwife, Marie, finished wrapping up baby Jack in a soft blanket, she turned to Aemond and asked, "Would you like to hold your son?"

Aemond froze, panic flashing in his eye. "I-I've never held a baby before."

Marie smiled reassuringly. "Don’t worry, I’ll show you how." With practiced hands, she gently placed Jack into Aemond’s arms, guiding him on how to support his tiny head.

Slowly, Aemond’s tension melted as he adjusted, the weight of his son both heavy with responsibility and light as a feather.

Before he knew it, Aemond was grinning, a quiet, proud smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at his son. Jack squirmed slightly but remained peaceful in his arms, so small and perfect.

Aemond's chest tightened with an overwhelming rush of emotion. The world around him seemed to blur, everything else vanishing as he stared at the life he had helped create.

As the midwives began tending to Y.N and the afterbirth, Aemond remained mesmerized by his son. The reality of fatherhood hit him hard in this quiet moment.

When Y.N had first told him she was pregnant, he had offered his support immediately, without hesitation. But deep down, he’d been terrified. His own father had been distant, cold—an example of everything a father shouldn’t be.

Aemond had no idea how to be a good father, how to give his son the love and care he deserved.

But now, holding Jack in his arms, a surge of love, unlike anything he had ever felt, filled him. He vowed silently, with everything in him, that his son would never feel the same isolation and neglect that he had experienced.

Jack would always know he was loved, that Aemond was there for him in every way. He would give his son the attention and affection that he himself had longed for.

Once Y.N had been helped and everything was sorted, Marie mentioned she could take a shower to freshen up.

Aemond carefully placed Jack in his cot and immediately went to help Y.N. She was a bit unsteady on her feet, the exhaustion of labour evident, so Aemond stayed close, supporting her as they made their way to the bathroom.

He washed her hair gently, his hands tender as he helped her clean up, mindful of her every movement.

She had already started bleeding, so he helped her with the pad and assisted in getting her dressed.

When they returned, he had pulled a few strings and arranged for Y.N. to have a private room.

Once she was comfortable and laid in bed, Aemond couldn’t resist stroking her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, soft and full of love.

Y.N's fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, and she whispered, "You keep kissing me."

Aemond pulled back slightly, worry creeping in. Was he pushing too much? Overwhelming her with affection when she might need space?

"Do you-want me to stop?" he asked, his voice careful, trying to hide his uncertainty.

Y.N’s fingers brushed over her lips, and she quickly replied, "No."

A wide smile broke across Aemond's face, his relief and happiness palpable. "I'm happy, Y.N. So happy."

She touched his face, her eyes soft and filled with emotion. "So am I."

This was it—the moment he had been waiting for. Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a deep breath.

Now or never. He leaned closer, his heart swelling with emotion. "I-I want to tell you that I lov—"

Before the words could leave his lips, the door burst open. Aegon strutted in, followed closely by Alicent, Daeron, and Helaena.

Aemond bit back a groan, his moment lost as his family swarmed into the room.

Alicent’s face lit up with joy as she carefully took Jack into her arms for the first time. Her eyes softened as she gazed down at her first grandchild, her smile tender and full of love.

"Oh, he's beautiful," she whispered. She gently rocked him, her heart swelling as she savoured the moment. “What’s his name?”

Aemond, standing proudly beside Y.N’s bed, smiled and said, “Jack.”

Alicent raised her brows slightly, surprised. “Jack? It’s not very Targaryen,” she remarked, though her tone was more curious than critical.

Aemond nodded. “It’s in honour of Y.N’s grandfather.”

At that, Alicent’s face softened even more. She nodded approvingly, clearly touched by the gesture.

"That's lovely," she said, staring down at her grandson with pride and affection.

Of course, Aegon couldn’t resist making his presence known. “So, Y.N.,” he asked with a mischievous grin, “how much did it hurt?”

Y.N. narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. “How about I kick you in the balls, and then you’ll have an idea?”

Aegon grimaced, backing off slightly as Daeron burst into laughter. “She’s got you there,” Daeron teased, clapping Aegon on the back.

Meanwhile, Helaena stood nearby, completely mesmerized by her tiny nephew. She leaned in, peering at him with wide, curious eyes. “He’s so perfect,” she murmured, utterly enamoured.

Suddenly, Jack began to cry, his small face scrunching up as the sound filled the room.

Alicent chuckled softly. “Sounds like someone is hungry,” she said as she carefully handed him back to Y.N.

Y.N. exposed her breast and gently guided Jack to latch on, and he began to nurse immediately, his cries fading.

A moment of quiet awe fell over the room as they watched the newborn find comfort in his mother’s arms.

Daeron shook his head in disbelief, glancing over at Aemond. “I still can’t believe you’re a dad,” he said, smiling.

Aemond, beaming with pride, hugged his younger brother. “Neither can I,” he admitted, his voice full of wonder.

Aegon, true to form, was less subtle. His attention was quickly drawn to Y.N. breastfeeding. “Whoa, look at him go. He’s definitely your kid, Aemond.”

Without missing a beat, Aemond slapped Aegon on the back of the head. “Don’t look at her breast, you pervert.”

Aegon shrugged, rubbing his head. “It was an accident.”

Aemond, his patience wearing thin, glared at him. “Get the fuck out,” he demanded.

Leaning over, Aegon pressed a soft kiss to Y.N.’s forehead. “I’ll come back soon.”

Y.N., still nursing Jack, smiled up at him and said, “Can you bring me a chocolate bar and some Lucozade when you do?”

 “Anything for you, Y.N.,” said Aegon with a cheeky grin as he sauntered out of the room, completely ignoring Aemond’s death glare.

As Aegon left, Daeron leaned in and whispered to Aemond, “He’s doing it on purpose. Ignore him, and he’ll give up.”

Aemond huffed. “He’ll give up when my fist is in his face.”

Y.N. suddenly yawned, exhausted from the day’s events. Noticing, Aemond turned to the others. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day. It’s time for Y.N. to rest.”

Alicent leaned over and kissed Y.N. gently on the cheek. ��You did so well, my dear. Rest now,” she said softly.

Helaena smiled warmly. “I’ll make some meals for you both, so you won’t have to worry about cooking once you’re home.”

Aemond nodded in gratitude as Daeron gave him a firm clap on the back.

“Take care of her and the little one,” Daeron said, waving goodbye to Y.N. as the family made their way out.

After Jack finished nursing, Aemond carefully lifted him to rub his back, gently patting until the baby let out a small burp.

Smiling, Aemond placed him in the little cot beside Y.N. and tucked him in under the soft blanket Helaena had made.

Y.N., exhausted but happy, looked at Aemond. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

Aemond nodded immediately. “Of course.”

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over him.

He glanced down at their sleeping son, so small and perfect, and then over to Y.N., who had already begun to drift off, her breathing steady and calm.

Aemond smiled to himself, squeezing her hand gently, thinking how lucky he was to have both of them in his life.

Aemond hurried back to the penthouse, his mind still swirling with the overwhelming realization that he was now a father.

He moved almost on autopilot as he showered and changed into fresh clothes, but the feeling of awe and disbelief remained.

He had a son. His son. It felt surreal.

As he was about to leave for the hospital, he decided to stop by a florist and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers—Y.N.’s favourite.

He wanted to make her smile, to show her how much she meant to him, especially after everything she'd just gone through.

Returning to the hospital, Aemond's good mood evaporated the moment he walked into the room and saw Aegon sitting beside the bed, holding Jack. His brows furrowed as he asked, “Where is Y.N.?”

Aegon, lounging comfortably, glanced up with a grin. “She’s just nipped for a shower. She asked me to watch Jack. Is that okay with you?” he added with a slightly cheeky tone, knowing it would irk Aemond.

Aemond narrowed his eye but sighed. “I suppose so.”

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Y.N. appeared, looking refreshed in clean pyjamas, her hair wrapped in a towel.

A bright smile crossed her face when she saw Aemond standing there. “Oh, you’re back!” she said warmly, walking over to him.

Aemond wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a soft kiss.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her lips before handing her the sunflowers.

Y.N.’s face lit up as she took the flowers. “They’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you,” she said, kissing him again.

Aemond, still basking in her smile, then turned his attention to Jack. He took the baby from Aegon, holding his son close to his chest, instantly feeling that surge of love again as he stared at the tiny face nestled in his arms.

Meanwhile, Aegon reached for a small carrier bag sitting next to him. “Oh, by the way, I got you something,” he said, handing it to Y.N.

She peeked inside and immediately let out a squeal of excitement. “A chocolate bar and Lucozade!”

She hugged Aegon in appreciation before eagerly unwrapping the chocolate and taking a big bite. “You have no idea how much I needed this,” she sighed contentedly.

Aemond watched with a small smile but raised an eyebrow when Y.N. turned to him with more news. “Oh, while you were gone, the midwives said I could go home.”

His smile faded slightly with concern. “Already? Isn’t it a little too soon?”

Y.N. shook her head. “I’d much rather be at home. We can start getting Jack into a routine, and I’ll be more comfortable there.”

Aemond considered it for a moment before nodding. It did make sense. He wanted them home, too—where he could make sure both Y.N. and Jack had everything they needed. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

Aegon piped up then, smirking. “I’ll give you guys a hand.”

Aemond shot him a look. “I’m more than capable of handling it.”

Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, but if you’re carrying Jack, you can’t expect Y.N. to carry her suitcase after just having a baby.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, annoyed but unable to argue. Aegon was right.

Before he could reply, the midwife entered the room with a smile and a folder of paperwork. “I’ve got your discharge papers here,” she said, glancing at Y.N. and then Jack.

Aemond sighed, knowing that Aegon’s presence would continue to irritate him, but he focused on the positive—his family was going home, and that was what mattered most.

TBC

[koiiiji]

windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 1)

warnings : no in general, maybe a ooc, but its my point of view, fluff

recommend : to turn on Lana Del Ray - West Coast

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Dom - arranged marrige. we take into account the fact that Dom is the heir of the yakuza. His father had long dreamed of the idea of uniting the two clans to expand the business, strengthen the position, and in general he was very close with the head of another clan, you know the type of male friendship when they brag about who has the coolest car and everything like that. (for about the same reason, you and Dom have an age difference of a couple of months) In general, when you were born, your fathers did not immediately decide that this would be a planned marriage, they still wanted freedom of choice for their children, but the two old men were too fascinated when you and Dom played together in the sandbox, or you two shared toys, and overall you got along great as babies. But as the years passed, interests changed, and from about 2-3 grades you began to have a "crisis in relationships", Dom were more interested in the "boyish" things, you in turn discovered the Internet and the charms of fictional characters (real footage of all of us). Therefore, your communication has gone from about infantile sympathy to childish antipathy when boys say "eeew girls, im not interested in them" and to the complete cessation of communication over the years. Well, your fathers also almost lost hope, trying to try on two fifth graders at holiday feasts, but everything ended up making faces at each other, and Dom’s first showed middle finger and yours first obscene phrases in response to him (later you both received a cradle from your parents) but the decision had already been made, and so everyone decided to just wait.

In fact, everything happened spontaneously. As it happens, girls grow faster, and there were no exceptions with you. So since you saw each other less often, Dom did not immediately recognize you, and of course refused to admit to himself that he liked you, and he decided to shove this sympathy away. A couple more years have passed, and you again super accidentally (no) met at one of your parents' clubs. This time it was your turn not to recognize Dom. And when you realized in the morning whose house you were in, you were shocked. So it tooks you two another 1-2 years to actually accept that planned things needed to be done and the idea of marriage in the first place wasn’t that bad.

Owen - forbidden love/ rivals/ competitors. While you honestly believed that your boiling hate for each other was mutual, Owen found it quite cute and intriguing how each time you trying to compete with him and how mad you get if you lose or if he jokingly flirts with you. Of course, he found you quite an interesting opponent, but you attracted him more as a girl, although it was still difficult because of your rival teams, and as Camila once told him when she noticed how he was staring at you at another training session, where he came intentionally before the rest of the Light Cavalry participants, "This won't be good for the image of our team." Usually you see him in training center, when your team finishes training, or when you wait for Light Cavalry to finish, or on the competitions and it always ends with your threatenings to his life or his bike. Of course you didn’t mean it so serious, it was kinda like tradition - he always so nice and jokes around while you all loud and screaming at him for his flirting lines.

Usually, you two never see each other somewhere in the city or on the streets, apparently you lived in different areas and everyday affairs were too different from each other, but somehow, now, almost at 11 pm, you look at each other in surprise, standing in the park, where both of you came to practice and free your heads from burdened thoughts. Owen wanted to break the awkward silence by greeting you, but you beat him to it by sternly asking “What are you doing here?” He smiled softly and running his hand through his hair, as he replied “I came here just to clear my head before sleep, shortcake. I hadn’t any intentions to interrupt you.” And looking up at you again, he smiled so sweetly, in his usual manner. You clicked irritably and went to meet him, “Then, since you're already here, let's have a race, and the loser is looking for another park, deal?” Again, she frowned so sweetly at her eyebrows, just the very seriousness - Owen thought to himself looking down at you from his height. Like all the smartest, the idea was certainly not bad, you even thought at the moment that you were about to win, because the agreed finish was already around the corner, when suddenly Owen jumped out from behind you and did a risky trick that allowed him to get ahead. But unfortunately, either out of surprise or confusion, you lost control and collapsed almost at the finish line. Your speed was decent, and your knees, shoulders and arms had a hard time now, all bleeding. Slowly rising from the ground, you felt such resentment and at the same time anger, either at yourself or at Owen. And all such a seething feeling of resentment, because of such a small mistake, to lose at the very finish, overwhelmed you with your head, and flowed out with tears from your eyes. You sat down by your fallen bike, hugged your bleeding knees and buried your forehead in them letting yourself cry. Suddenly you felt someone stroking your head and sitting down next to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. Looking up, as you expected, you saw Owen, and shrugged your shoulders and squeal at him “Get the fuck away from me! I don’t need your pity and help!” “Hey, hey, easy shortcake, im not a monster to let girl, who is also injured, be alone in park at night.” He tried to take you by the shoulders again. “I said get away!” You clearly didn’t planned to stop crying, and Owen understood that you’ll have a tantrum in a moment, so he decided to ignore your screams and pulled you closer, already hugging you completely. Of course, you didn't appreciate this gesture, you started pounding him in the chest with your fists, shouting for him to let go, for you to try again, that this time you would definitely defeat him and in general how much you dislike him. And Owen just held you tight, and let your screams and crying be drowned out in his sweater. After a couple of minutes, you were just crying into his chest while he pulled you closer, sat you down between his legs and just gently stroked your back.

When you finally calmed down and raised your tear-stained, red eyes to him, Owen gently put his hand on your cheek and quietly asked, “Well, have you calmed down? Will you let me help you now, shortcake?” taking a confused look away from him and blushing, you said, “If anyone finds out about this, you're finished, got it?” Owen laughed loudly and pulled you closer to him, and dropping his free hand on your cheek, gently kissed you.

Harry - hate/love or sunny/grumpy. Even ignoring the fact that you’ve been in the same team, he somehow never liked you. Honestly, he didnt even know the reason. You had such a bright personality, always nice to people around and guys in team,but still defended your interests and borders when it was necessary. Harry just couldn’t stand you. In his eyes you were quite ideal, he even accepted that you were kinda powerful at cycling. But most blood boiling fact about you were that Harry knew perfectly - he had a thing for you, but he decided for himself to hide it under mask of indifference and disinterest, because come on, feelings make you weak (such a men moment)

But the other thing about you that Harry absolutely couldn’t stand - is your tears. He saw it only twice, once when it was your first year with the Light Cavalry, the team came to wish you a happy birthday right at 12 a.m., and you burst into tears from the joy and sweetness of this act of attention. And the other time was when Harry himself brought you to tears, because you chewed his brains all day. He think that sometimes you have a bad habit activated, walking around and teasing him all day, offering to compete in something, and just dripping on his brain, because you probably have a pleasure to bring him to a white heat. And when he couldn't stand it one more time, he turned sharply at you and barked - "Are you a complete idiot? I think I told you to fuck off from me, leave me alone and go fuck someone else's brains out. How many times can I tell you, I don't intend to compete with someone like you," - and Harry took care to squeeze the word "like" like poison into your mind. And fortunately for him, as he convinced himself, you stopped bothering him after that time and resorted to communicating with him only in the most necessary cases. So for the first few days he liked how you avoided him, but after a week and a half of your absence from his daily life, he began to feel sad and guilty for being harsh with you... But wasn’t it your own fault!? That's right, it was your fault. But didn't he like your attention? Wasn't he warmed by the rays of your warmth?.. Damn, all these thoughts were difficult for Harry, and he did it easier - he left training earlier, stopped by the store on the way, bought a random gift that reminded him of you, went to your house and waited for you at the entrance to the house. To say less, you were shocked when you saw him near the building were you live, but decided to act all cool and just to pass by. He didn’t let you. Harry grabbed your elbow, but you tried to pull away, he turned you around to face him and grabbed your other elbow. “Let me go, you creep!!” You could feel how tears forming in your eyes. You didn’t understand why he even came here, he supposed to be in other place, he supposed to hate you, he supposed… “For the fuck sake just shut up and take it.” He handed you a gift. You were confused and looked up at him with an obvious question “why?” in your pretty eyes. Harry clicked tongue, left your elbows and started to walk away. When you softly mumbled “Thank you” he turned around and quickly closing the distance, he awkwardly hugged you. For the first few seconds you freaked out, but gave up and hugged him back and mumbled "You idiot" in his hoodie. Harry chuckled at your comment and squeezed your back harder "At least im not a crybaby as someone". He got a reminder that you can kick his knees pretty hard.

Hwangyeon - school crush. You were quite popular girl from his class - moderately smart, kind, but not enough to take advantage of your kindness, beautiful and friendly person in general. The fact that Hwang tried to get your attention by his money flex, “cool” - as he thought - actions towards other people in school, where so obvious, as the fact that he liked you. But you weren’t impressed by his shitty personality and usually you treated him coldly or mocked him about he is trying to assert himself at the expense of others. Was he mad at you for that? No, of course, he melted like butter in a hot frying pan from every second of your attention, and bragging to his boys that you two had “conversation”.

Actually his friends, everyone around and mainly Sangho were tired of Hwang’s whinings at home and he told him what to do. So here he is, standing in doors of your class begging you to help him with his english class. Since he asked you nicely and promised not to mock students as long as you help him, you agreed to tutor him for some topics that he couldn’t understand. So with time you two became a little bit closer and you even been in his place and know Hwang’s siblings. (both of them thought that he is paying you to be his friend*) In the midst of one of these preparations Hwangyeon was whining about how he didn’t understand anything and probably won’t pass this exam. You hated the fact that he was giving up fast and easy, but luckily you knew how to motivate this guy. In a second, you grabbed his cheeks with both hands, turned his head towards you and said “Listen, we’ve been preparing for this for so long and you gonna drop everything because of small misunderstanding? I already wanted to take you out for ice cream if you wrote this test better than the guy who sits behind me at school, but since you've already given up, well, I guess i’ll have to go with him instead.” you said slowly letting his cheeks go. Hwang took your hand, to let it stay on his cheek and rise his eyes up on you and with dead serious eyes muttered “If my score will be higher than 75%, we will go for that ice cream.” You smiled at him and said that it is deal.

Spoiler : his score was 68% his friends and you laughed at him for his bragging before exam, but you still took him to that ice cream shop and kissed his cheek for a good bye.

*bonus

its been quite long preparation session for english final exam before summer weekends, so you decided to continue at Hwang’s place. it wasn’t your first time visiting his place, maybe third or fourth, so his siblings already knew you, when you enter the house. you greeted everyone, warned them that you would be preparing for the exam and went to Hwang’s room. after few hours of studying you were tired of punching and shouting at your friend so you left the room for glass of juice and in the dim light of the kitchen you met Sangho with his laptop and glass of something probably alcoholic. you stare at each other for a second and you awkwardly announced that you came for pack of juice that two of you left in fridge. Sangho mumbled something softly and turned back to his laptop, when you were about to leave the room he raised his eyes from laptop again and asked in serious voice “did he pay you?”

you froze in place you were standing and on stiff legs, turning to him. “mhmm?”

“did my brother pay you to pretend to be his friend or whatever you two are?”

“n-no? he just asked me for help, t-that’s why im here!” he grunted something like okay and went back to his laptop. when door after you closed, Aria got out from behind the sofa and held out her hand to her brother. Sangho, in turn, pulled a banknote out of his pocket and gave it to his sister without a word.

[jintaka-hane]

The Cooking Contest

Masterlist | Img src

Summary: Killer loves cooking. And when he sees that the chef he admires is organizing a cooking contest at the port where they are docked, he asks Kid to participate. How will our beloved crew react to the possible outcomes of the event? Word count: 2000 Notes: protecting each other; friendship; don't insult my friend thing; very short tempered captain; violence off screen; chef and culinary degradation. Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

"Fuck," the first mate muttered, wiping away the torrent of sweat running down his neck as he stirred the sauce sticking to the skillet.

The kitchen was absolute chaos. The air was thick with a mix of strong and pungent smells; the counters were dirty and covered with scraps from all sorts of vegetables; and a group of cooks hurried to finish their dishes, frantically running back and forth, bumping into each other to the deafening concert of knives clattering against cutting boards.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the blonde’s attention snapped to the pot, quickly lowering the heat as the water bubbled over with a hiss.

A condescending chuckle drifted behind him, and he didn’t need to turn around to know it came from the arrogant chef. He could picture him in his pristine, buttoned-up white uniform, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, casting a disapproving scowl at the contestants.

*****

"Kid" was all Killer had said the day before as he stared at the poster on the wall, the reason he now found himself caught up in such a compromising situation.

The redhead approached him, and his eyes scanned the printed letters from top to bottom.

The Magnificent Culinary Contest of G. Clamsey.

His painted lips stretched into an impossible grin. He was just about to bark out a laugh, raising his hand to slap his friend on the back, when he saw that Killer was actually serious. Kid swallowed his laughter, coughing and clearing his throat to regain his composure. Then he frowned, trying to keep a straight face as he looked back at the poster with forced concentration.

"You serious?" he simply asked when he finished.

Killer's blue eyes remained glued to the printed image of the smiling chef.

“Kil,” Kid ran a hand through his fiery hair, “I don’t know if we have time for—”

"You said we’d be here for a few days," Killer cut in, shifting his mask toward him.

"Yeah, I know, but we’ve got—"

"The prize is a set of the best quality pans and pots…"

Kid fidgeted, awkwardly adjusting his goggles over his forehead. "Since when do we need new pans, Kil? You know we can get—"

"There’s also a prize in berries… It’d be a chance to win some honest money for once."

“Honest…” His words were abruptly choked off by a sarcastic snort, disbelief written across his face. “Kil, PLEASE.”

“Kid…” Killer’s voice faltered, but he continued in his effort to open up to his captain. “Gorgon Clamsey is… he’s a big deal in South Blue. This…” He hesitated, slightly embarrassed. “It’s important to me.”

Eustass Kid looked at his friend, studying him with narrowed eyes for a few long seconds.

The captain was known for being impatient, proud, and scornful of everything he deemed uninteresting. Yet when it came to his friends, he was willing to set the world ablaze if they asked him to. He would do anything for them. So if his best friend wanted to compete in some ridiculous cooking contest run by a chef with an even more ridiculous name, then so be it.

"GUYS, STOP!" he yelled at his crew, raising his hand with a signal for them to gather. "We’re going to win a fucking cooking contest!"

*****

The competition had no more than twelve participants and was held in a small harbor tavern, the simplicity of the venue suggesting it had been organized on the spur of the moment, probably out of boredom on the part of the acclaimed chef.

Everyone in town was invited to come in, admire the dishes, and listen to the chef’s verdict with a beer in hand. And the Kid Pirates, along with about thirty others, had gathered there, drinking and chatting as they waited for the contestants to finish their plates.

When the kitchen doors finally swung open a line of cooks emerged, each one looking more frazzled than the last. Killer trudged forward, gripping his dish tightly and scanning the room for his friends.

Through the small crowd he spotted Bubblegum, Hip, and Heat, all grinning and giving him overly enthusiastic thumbs-ups. Further away, Kid leaned against the wall, arms crossed and his oversized coat draped over his shoulders. And in the back of the room, Wire flirted shamelessly with two girls, cornering them between his body and the wall.

Killer shook his head in an attempt to signal them that there was no chance of victory. He was a decent cook. And had genuinely thought he might stand a chance. But the pressure of cooking against the clock in a chaotic kitchen where everyone tripped over each other had put him on edge, resulting in a dish he wasn’t proud of.

Sighing, he headed toward his assigned table, placed his dish down and waited for the judgment of his admired chef.

Gorgon Clamsey approached the tables with his face twisted in disgust. With a flourish of his hand, he urged the first contestant to unveil her dish by lifting the cloche, and she revealed a plate of beef meatballs in sauce with peas.

“Disastrous presentation,” the chef muttered. He pulled a small fork from the pocket of his uniform and cut into the meat with a grimace. As he brought it to his lips he hesitated, barely allowing the tip of his tongue to make contact before pulling away in revulsion. 

“What is this, a joke?” he scoffed. “Lacks salt, the meat’s texture is atrocious, and the peas… I’ve seen better dishes served in Impel Down’s cafeteria!”

The contestant tried to stay composed, but after several seconds of enduring the chef's icy glare, ended up burying her face in her hands, choking out, “I’m a fraud!” before running from the tavern.

Killer swallowed hard behind his mask.

“You got this, Kil!” Hip shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Kiiiiller, Kiiiiller,” Bubblegum, Heat, and Quincy chanted in unison, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

The chef seemed unperturbed by the cheers, and moved from one dish to the next, ruthlessly criticizing the work of the unlucky contestants.

"If this is your idea of cooking, you should seriously consider a different career."

"This isn’t cooking; it’s a culinary crime scene!"

"It's as if you’ve taken all the worst flavors and combined them into one plate."

One by one, he shattered the dreams and hopes of each of the miserable cooks, leaving behind him a trail of disappointed faces. Kid watched from a distance with feigned disinterest, letting out scornful chuckles when his criticisms were especially cruel. But when the man reached the table where Killer nervously presented his plate, his smile faded.

“You may remove the cloche,” Clamsey ordered, his tone flat and devoid of interest.

Killer lifted the lid, and a cloud of steam escaped, revealing his dish to the chef’s piercing scrutiny. Before them lay a plate of spaghetti with Bolognese sauce.

The pasta had been lovingly handmade and cut to perfection, and the sauce had been carefully prepared with fresh tomatoes and slices of garlic, all mingled with slightly caramelized minced meat. A delicate sprig of parsley was carefully placed on the edge of the plate, garnishing the whole with elegance.

“Ts,” Clamsey chuckled condescendingly. “I don’t even know why I bother…”

The chef picked up the plate and brought it to his nose for a sniff as his gaze bored into the uneasy first mate’s mask. He set the plate down on the table, retrieved his small fork, and twirled a bit of pasta before lifting it to his mouth. Silence fell over the tavern, and Killer shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Congratulations…” the chef began, and for a brief moment, Killer’s chest puffed out with pride, “... you’ve successfully turned a simple recipe into a complete catastrophe!”

The grins on the faces of the Kid Pirates vanished.

Clamsey slammed the fork onto the table and pointed a finger at Killer with all the authority of a judge. “The sauce is so overcooked, it should be in the obituary section!”

“EH, YOU JERK!” Hop shouted. “Don’t you dare mess with our Killer!”

The chef paid no attention to her outburst. “Did you learn to cook in a dumpster?”

Killer didn’t defend himself. The deep respect he felt for Gorgon Clamsey held him back. And the lack of pride in his dish made him believe that all the insults were entirely deserved. 

“I-I…” he stammered, looking more defeated by the second. But his words were cut short when Clamsey grabbed a napkin and smacked it against his chest.

"I wouldn’t serve this slop to my dog, and I’m pretty sure he’d refuse it too!"

A roar tore through the room, and everyone turned to see Eustass Captain Kid charging forward, his face twisted into a fierce snarl aimed directly at the chef. Striding with furious intent, he ripped off his massive red coat and hurled it to Hop as he stormed past, his seething gaze locked on his target. The crowd scrambled to get out of his way, terrified of being caught in the blast zone of his fury.

As he closed the distance between himself and Clamsey, he lifted his massive metal arm high into the air. The chef turned, visibly annoyed, and sized him up with a dismissive scowl.

"And who the hell are you, crippl—argggGG!" Clamsey’s words strangled in his throat as a cold, iron grip closed around his neck, cutting off the rest of his question.

Some people in the room gasped.

Others screamed.

The Kid Pirates grinned.

Eustass Kid yanked the chef by the neck and dragged him toward the exit. Clamsey’s eyes bulged in horror, feet kicking helplessly in the air as his hands clawed desperately at Kid’s iron grip, trying to pry loose the unyielding fingers. When they reached the door, Kid lifted a muddy boot and kicked it open with a violent thud, and the two men disappeared into the night, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.

Howls, screams, and metallic bangs could be heard from the other side of the door, causing people to cover their mouths in terror.

“He’s going to kill him!” a woman shouted.

But no one moved.

The crashes continued, mixed with pitiful whimpers and the heavy thud of something hitting the ground, until they slowly diminished and faded into silence.

The door crashed open with another kick, and Eustass Kid bursted back in, looking like a wild animal. His face and clothes were smeared with a grim mix of mud and blood, and his chest heaved with ragged breaths. His eyes, bright and sharp against the grime coating his skin, scanned the silent room, and with a low growl he stomped through the tavern, leaving a trail of muck and tension in his wake.

“He’s alive,” he muttered as he brushed past Wire, who remained obliviously flirtatious with the two girls.

The captain grabbed a chair, dragged it across the floor until he reached Killer, and then dropped his full weight into it.

“Give me a fork,” he grumbled as he leaned over the plate of pasta.

“Kid…” Killer replied, staring at him in bewilderment through the holes of his mask. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m fuckin' hungry. Hand me a damn fork or I’ll eat it with my hands.”

Killer fumbled through the front pocket of his apron and pulled out a fork. Kid snatched it, practically stabbing the pasta with it.

“Mmmh,” he stuffed a huge forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, tomato sauce splattering all over his already dirty face.

Killer swallowed hard and bit his lip, trying to hold himself together. But the sight of Kid voraciously devouring his plate made warm tears spill down his concealed cheeks. Kid kept eating, stabbing the fork into the pasta with increasing ferocity, while Killer fought to suppress the sobs that threatened to escape beneath his mask. When Kid finished, he leaned back in his chair and tossed the fork onto the empty plate with a loud clatter.

“The best damn pasta in the whole freakin’ world, Kil” he said, wiping his mouth on his forearm as he stood up.

The blond held the empty plate in his hands and stared at it, unable to stop his shoulders from shaking.

“We're outta here, guys!!” Kid shouted to his crew, gesturing toward the shiny set of pans and pots waiting for the winning contestant. “And grab all those fucking new pans for Kil!”

................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[joys-of-everyday]

SJ and the Pitfalls of Toxic Masculinity

Liking women wasn’t shameful in the least, but treating a woman as your savior, shrinking into her embrace in search of self-confidence—Shen Qingqiu needed no one to tell him how incredibly shameful that was. So he would rather die than tell anyone, particularly not Yue Qingyuan.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Hot take: og!SQQ had toxic ideas about masculinity, and it ruined him.

SVSSS is all about the ✨Toxic Masculinity✨ but this seems to be more associated with SY than SJ??? So yeah, lets talk about SJ (my poor meow meow).

There’s actually some subtlety here, because talking about SJ and masculinity naturally involves an interplay between historical and modern views on masculinity in China, which is something that has developed over time and has influences from other cultures (e.g. the west and our views on masculinity). (Interesting thing if you haven't already come across it) I am… not qualified to read the subtleties here.

To note, SJ is coded as masculine… sort of. He’s the head of the scholarly peak, a master of the Four Arts, which is one facet of ideal masculinity in traditional Chinese values. (Fluttering a fan around was very gentleman-like. Although also, expressing your emotions through poetry and copious amounts of tears was very masculine back in the day. 'Traditional masculinity' has and always will be an elusive ideal.) But I get the feeling nowadays ‘scholarly’ has more feminine connotations than ‘martial’, albeit a slightly weaker one than in the west. Also, on the topic of toxic masculinity, certain groups of people Who Shall Not Be Named would like you to believe that Real Chinese Men are stoic warriors and ‘gayness is a western thing’ (my rage is unreal but we will not talk about that).

Anyway, broad strokes, broad strokes.

Arrogance and Insecurity

A big part of toxic masculinity is a need for social recognition, to be the ‘alpha male’ (not an ABO pun and on a side note I literally cannot take anyone talking about alpha males seriously now, for many reasons, but this is the funniest).

SJ is obsessed with his cultivation, but more pertinently, he is obsessed with his reputation. He demonstrates this in a few ways. Firstly, he works his ass off, which is not bad in itself, but he does this to the extent it is detrimental to his health (that grindset lol). Secondly, he projects a certain image with his actions and mannerisms: reading in order to seem intelligent, looking down at people to seem superior etc. Thirdly, he responds to any perceived slights of his ability with violence. (Fighting with LQG is an example, but also drawing a sword on SQH when he pointed out that he was reading an upside-down book.)

Now interestingly, the unanimous vibe that Cang Qiong seem to get from SQQ is that he is ‘arrogant’. When in truth, all of this is compensating for his insecurity.

Shen Qingqiu was overly suspicious, always feeling as if everyone was talking behind his back about how he was still incapable of forming a core, didn’t accept his position, wanted to sabotage him in secret, and so on and so forth.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Sadly, SJ is justified in being afraid of other people’s opinion. His comfort and security rely entirely on his status, which in turn rely on other people’s opinion of his competence. Of course he wants to get to the top – he’s been under other people’s power before, and suffered terribly as a result. Why should he not desperately defend what he has worked so hard for? Yet ultimately it works against him, because when he’s in serious trouble, he hasn’t been able to build the human connections he needs to get help.

The problem is with the system. The idea that having strength allows you to do whatever you want hurts not only the people regarded as inferior, but also creates a collective sense of anxiety for those who find themselves ‘at the top’. Anyone can be kicked down and treated like scum. Everyone is afraid.

Dominance and Bullying

The phrase ‘toxic masculinity is fragile’ quite often, but to elaborate, these kinds of rigid ideas of masculinity are by nature constantly under threat. Because any crack in the perfect shell is regarded as failure, it requires constant, aggressive maintenance, which takes the form of bullying the weak in order to elevate oneself.

SJ’s treatment of LBH is complicated, but here I want to draw attention to a different character – Ming Fan.

SQQ (SY) would have you know that MF is not a bad kid, other than the fact he’s a huge bully to LBH. And in part that comes from jealousy of NYY’s crush on him, but what allows it to happen is the way SJ runs the peak. It's interesting to note that so much of SJ's bullying of LBH happens through MF, whether it be giving him the faulty cultivation manual, giving him chores or physically assaulting him. In doing this, SJ creates a system that firmly establishes himself at the top, likely in order to give himself some semblance of security.

But ironically, this is the very system that SJ has suffered under his entire life, recreated to it's extreme on the peak that he controls. When he was completely under the power of others (QJL, LBH) he suffered. When other people were under his power, he inflicted suffering. He encouraged other people to do the same. Again, the whole thing is a scam! He is putting all of his energy into things that aren't helping him, things that ultimately bring him down.

Real Men Don’t Cry – the Dangers of Emotional Repression

SJ has many, very justifiable reasons in life to be upset and angry. The things he went through are both terrible and extremely unfair. Being angry at everything is not a healthy outlet for these feelings, but he hasn’t exactly been taught an alternative either. On the streets, tears would have gotten him absolutely nothing. Anger at least gave him energy to fight back.

And this destroys him. He is angry at the fact he had no one in his life who loved him, his talents were wasted because of QJL/WYZ, nobody takes his abilities seriously… and with no healthy way of expressing this, he goes onto bully LBH. LBH then returns to destroy him, literally. More subtly, he is unable to express his fear and anxiety in healthy ways, so acts standoff-ish and aggressive to his those around him. As his relationship with them deteriorates, his fear and anxiety increases. Feedback loops.

SJ puts on a mask of anger and stoicism to the point that everyone around him (including himself) is convinced that he is unrepentant and evil. Suppresses and suppresses until it breaks him, until he has nothing – not his comfort, nor status, nor the one that he truly cared for:

He had single-handedly facilitated Luo Binghe’s today, and now who had single-handedly created this outcome for him? Yue Qingyuan was never supposed to have an end like this. In order to come to a decades-late appointment, to fulfill a completely useless promise. A broken sword and a dead man. It shouldn’t be like this.

A Note on Ambivalent Sexism

It’s funny because I think there’s a fandom vibe that SJ was the secret feminist of SVSSS. Don’t get me wrong, I love this in fanfics. Badass feminist SJ all the way. But my honest opinion is that I don’t think that was the case.

More explicitly, I don’t think SJ took women seriously. NYY, for example. Certainly, SJ valued NYY. But the expression of this care involved doting on her, hiding his treatment of LBH from her, and not particularly pushing her to grow. And PIDW!NYY wasn’t implied to be the most mature of the lot. Okay, while we don’t know a lot about PIDW!NYY (narrator unreliable), it’s probably safe to say some distance from SJ helped her a lot.

Another point – the Qiu massacre. SJ killed the men, but not the women. And while this says more about his distaste for men, it also indicates (possibly - I will float this idea but I won't die on this hill) that he straight up doesn’t see any woman as an enemy, or capable of being a threat. Which is possibly a natural conclusion he’s drawn from his experiences (QHT was not very perceptive, or very threatening) but also inaccurate as a worldview.

And his attitude towards the women he sees as saviours? Has the same vibe as ‘it’s so embarrassing to be protected by a girl’.

Okay, so being doted on and not being killed are positives compared to being abused or murdered, but this kind of attitude is the opposite side of the same coin to ‘women are incompetent and inferior’. And when it comes to raising kids, not allowing them to grow can be extremely harmful as well. See e.g. Ambivalent sexism.

Although I do want to mention that I do not think SJ was like… actively misogynistic. I think he genuinely liked women more than men. The point is you can be sexist without realising it.

Conclusions

To conclude, SJ had ideas of success and self-worth associated with toxic masculinity which were instrumental in his downfall.

Masculinity doesn’t have to be toxic. While the Cang Qiong family aren’t exactly the healthiest bunch, YQY’s calm and patient leadership, LQG’s steadfast loyalty, LBH’s ability to cry like a maiden and still be the strongest… these are all traditionally masculine traits that can be very positive. These are also people who can have feminine traits and explore their gender identity without being prissy or weak.

It's the great tragedy of SJ that he had many positive characteristics. He was talented, intelligent, articulate, perceptive, loyal, and caring… under the right circumstances, he could have grown into a great person.

And maybe he still had that chance, right until the end.

[csmiclxtte]

ATEEZ Fama [408] asteroid mini reading

disclaimer: i'm still learning & idk these ppl personally. so dont be too serious

ATEEZ has Fama in Aquarius (2°). As a group, they are known to be:

Original, unique, eccentric.

Aware of social issues

2° : "Fame" is a gift which can help them to produce wealth.

Fama Shadow Side

Spreading of news & controversies

ATEEZ is rather unproblematic, but if we take a look, the scandals mainly involves Aquarian theme.

Cultural appropriation(s)

Plagiarism (original ideas getting stolen)

ATEEZ's Fama aspects

square Sun-Venus, square Uranus, opposite NN forming a fixed Grand Cross / Grand Square

They may find "fame" to clash wih their ego (square Scorpio Sun).

"Fame" might trigger love-hate reactions from public. Or members may have tricky relationship with "fame", things can be awkward or tense (square Scorpio Venus).

"Fame" made them question their personal values at some point (square Taurus Uranus retrograde).

Their goal is to achieve fullest form of self-expression (Leo NN).

Fixed signs causing them to face the same issues again, if lessons not learned.

ATEEZ Members Fama Placement

Who they are known to be

Hongjoong | Fama in Virgo 8H (22°)

Workaholic, critical, and perfectionistic

Self-reliant.

Manage resources well.

Natural charisma, mysterious.

8H rules legacy, it can mean leaving a big legacy into this world.

Regenerate wealth.

Seonghwa | Fama in Cancer 12H (12°)

Emotional, sensitive, moody.

Nurturing, "motherly".

Imaginative, intuitive, may be spiritual.

Delusions & illusions which can mean he is often misunderstood. Or people may see him just as they like.

Great at conveying emotions and playing roles.

Yunho | Fama in Virgo 10H (28°)

Hardwork, competence, and diligence.

Perfectionistic, critical.

Professional and able to control his emotions relatively well.

Soft and caring, comforts people.

Intercepted Fama 10H: may mean Yunho have difficulty in climbing career ladder & gaining reputation.

Note: Fama in 10H can mean higher level of fame (positive or negative). Also the 28° degree, from what i've read, can be linked to karmic disposition. If his birthtime is exact, Yunho also has intercepted 4H. It can be translated as lacking familial/parental support. However he does have a strong ancestral connection, which possibly means that his career & reputation is linked with karmic clearing & such.

This is only based on degree theory & interception theory.

Yeosang | Fama in Virgo 6H (24°)

Hardworking, pays a lot attention to detail.

Takes extra care of his fitness & health.

Can be very particular about things.

Coworkers may often talk about him.

Can be known as spirirtual/mysterious, head in the clouds, not so present.

San | Fama in Virgo 1H (29°)

Another workaholic placement, striving for perfection, especially in how he represent his physic.

San seems to have a specific image/concept he wanted to project.

He can demand a lot from himself & his body.

Anaretic degree: ability to master the Virgo qualities. It might be something familiar and the energy is much easier to direct.

Mingi | Fama in Libra 9H / 11H (6°) - not sure what time Mingi was born, either 12 pm or 4 pm (please lmk which one is correct tysm)

Natural charm and beauty.

Center of attention.

Well-liked in foreign land/culture or internet.

May be indecisive.

Travel, media, and exploration will help him (9H), or rather technology and his friend group (11H).

Perfectionistic.

Wooyoung | Fama in Scorpio 1H-2H cusp (10°)

Scorpios are usually magnetic, so Woo doesn't need to do much to lure people.

Gives people a sense of intimacy, but also very private in a way. People are naturally curious of him.

Fearless, won't hesitant to approach taboo/forbidden stuffs.

Known for the his journey & transformation in building success.

Jongho | Fama in Sagittarius (6°) - also ugh idk his birthtime

Got famous by literally doing whatever he wants and following his guts.

Great sense of humor.

Known to be optimistic, wise and knowledgeable, philosophical, adventurous.

Perfectionist, practice make perfect.

Notice how Virgo energy is always involved in the placement, aside from Wooyoung and Seonghwa. Perfectionistic & critical ppl fr.

I by no means state this all as fact. Take it for fun only. Again, idk these ppl irl.

I'm just exploring astrology theories :>

Thank you for reading!

[batsplat]

What was the deal with dovi and his two teammates he did NOT get along with? Personal dislike or what?

so I've rattled off the actual details of the dovi/jorge feud here and this post gives great insight for dovi/iannone. the thing about dovi is that it's kind of funny that it happened twice to him of all people, you know? and the fact that there's (to my knowledge) been fuck all reconciliation? like I said here:

which I think is probably like... my general explanation. it's a) circumstance and b) abysmal interpersonal chemistry. in both cases, you've met the general criteria for intra-team issues:

I should have added that the first criterion is a little more complex than that, because it's also about how competitive the bike is versus expectations. if you thought you were going to be fighting for a title and you're not because the bike is shit, then that's not really the time and place to be starting feuds. but by 2015 ducati was very much on the way up again: for a hot moment early that year it looked like dovi might be a genuine title threat in that year and in 2016 they got their first win since 2010. so, suddenly you've got a manufacturer that's reevaluating its current line up and deciding they want a bigger name to lead the actual title charge... which is where you get the stakes from in both those feuds. dovi/iannone was driven in large part by 'which one of us will get fired' and dovi/lorenzo had the tension of 'this is not the challenger ducati was expecting'. so now you are competing over something a little more substantial... and that makes the difference between 'ah whatever I can paper over these interpersonal tensions' and 'you know what fuck this guy'

the interpersonal chemistry question is obviously more opaque, and again you have to say dovi just got a little unlucky in that regard. from how he talks in his autobiography, it seems like the first feud was just a bit of a radical mismatch of personalities. in iannone, dovi sees someone who is arrogant, obsessed with image and too concerned with beating dovi. it's not exactly a surprise that dovi was severely displeased when he thought he would be dropped for iannone. with jorge... well, you can really see how the competitiveness comes in here, right - the relationship was broadly cordial in 2017 when jorge was in the wilderness and then swiftly deteriorated when he actually got to grips with the bike

also, clearly jorge had some slightly weird stuff going on with dovi... idk, some of the passages read like he thought dovi kinda looked down on him? constantly talking about how clever dovi is, how dovi knows what he's doing... the thing about jorge is that he had a lot of stuff going on as a young man and he was overthinking a lot of things... and some of those things were definitely his rivals... and that did affect several of those relationships for quite a few years. then there's the stuff where jorge repeatedly says how much effort he put into that relationship, celebrating dovi's results in 2017, dovi not appreciating it... I mean, maybe? I can imagine dovi being extremely unmoved by this lol, and certainly not feeling like it means jorge has any credit in the bank the following year. he doesn't like jorge, which is fine... but then occasionally he says something in the press with just enough ambiguity that it allows jorge to go absolutely ape shit and it spirals from there. just a bad combination, really. jorge thought he'd be number one, dovi was very possessive of that project and not willing to cede the lead without one hell of a fight... and they have history and they're both not really particularly willing to give each other the benefit of the doubt. not great

as much as I obviously wasn't being serious calling dovi an awful teammate, he's also not that conflict-averse. he's always been opinionated, reasonably willing to get into arguments (including with the ducati higher ups) and also clearly willing to judge his fellow riders, often quite harshly. he's perhaps not particularly inclined to change his mind either once he's made it up... definitely a character, and perhaps not the type who's really interested in reevaluating relationships post-retirement. jorge on his part has mended quite a few bridges, but it really is just with his fellow aliens - you'll note he's repeatedly incredibly rude about dovi's track record and lack of premier class titles. jorge in general can have a bit of a habit of 'punching down' in a way you won't really get from the other aliens. his nostalgia-inflected warmth towards other riders again really does seem pretty limited to just the aliens, which is how you get him doing instagram throwbacks to motegi 2010 (bonkers lol) and all this *gestures* dani stuff... but with him and dovi, neither of them have really made an effort, and I doubt they will. dovi's the type of guy who wants to see himself as honest and straightforward with these things, so no forcing reconciliation after the fact I reckon. what's wrong with a couple of burnt bridges, right

[violetfairydust]

several sentence sunday

Thank you @dear-massacre and @endwersed for tagging me! Love you guys!

I have a good handful of fics I'm working on. This is absolutely the most self-indulgent fic I have and I'm thrilled. Stiles and Derek are best friends and Stiles is going to find out Derek doesn't talk about his family.

-

“You’re either going to have to stop talking about it or stop being vague because I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you don’t tell me, I can always hack into your email.” He stopped at the light. “Seriously. Your password isn’t hard to guess. I could probably get it in three tries.”

Derek exhaled sharply. “Alright,” he snapped. “I’ll tell you, but it’s absurd as all hell.” They paused at the crosswalk. “Our family reunion isn’t “let’s gather and drink and catch up.” We turn it into a game. We’re a very competitive family.” He took a ridiculously long pause. “You know how in Friends they had the Geller Cup?”

Stiles cracked a smile as the light turned green. He stared at Derek as they crossed River Street. He didn’t look like he was joking, but there was no way he could be serious. No way. If it was true, Stiles was going to invite himself to the Hale reunion.

“I’m familiar with the Geller Cup, yes.”

“We participate in a similar… competition…”

The two took a left down Turner. Derek was quiet for most of the block. Stiles tried to wrap his head around the idea that the Hales had their own Olympics every summer. What exactly did they do? Derek diving into the lake was an interesting image that wouldn’t leave his brain. He let it entertain him while Derek was silent.

“Why is it so bad Laura’s hosting this year?”

“Because it’s hard to win by yourself. Usually you compete in couples. My sister and her husband, our uncle and his wife, cousins and their partners. I hosted the last few years because I haven’t been in a relationship since high school. Laura recently broke up with her girlfriend, so she jumped at the chance to host. The hosts don’t participate, they judge the competition.”

“But you can win by yourself.”

“It’s not common, but you can.”

“Have you ever won?”

“It’s been years. Not since sophomore year of college.” He pulled the glass door of the office. He held it open for Stiles. “You can be as strong, smart, and strategic as everyone else, but if there’s two of you, your chances triple. That was back in the day when everyone was single.”

Stiles pressed the button for the elevator. “What about your parents?”

“They’re judges regardless of the host. They would also be the hosts if everyone was paired off.” He glanced at the glowing triangle above the doors. “They’re not quite as competitive. They used to be team leaders, but that position was eliminated after a few years.”

They stepped into the elevator. Stiles pressed the button for the fifth floor and looked at Derek’s reflection in the doors. They mirrored the other with their hands in their pockets. Though, Stiles smirked and Derek’s features were blank.

“Scandal?”

“Some techniques are better than others, which gave the other team a disadvantage. After that, most of the events were changed.”

The bell dinged on the fifth floor. Derek hurried off the elevator and Stiles jogged to catch up.

“This is fascinating. How come you never brought it up before?”

“Why would I? I didn’t think it was important.” Derek dropped into his chair. “Especially since I was the host for the last four years. I sat on the sidelines and watched everyone trip over each other for some engraved Christmas tree topper.”

“Is that your trophy?” He dumped the watered down soda in the trash.

“It’s a plaque with “Championship Winner” on it that we can place on the mantle and brag about when people come over. I know I won’t be seeing that award for a while.”

“Why not?” Stiles typed in his password. “I think you could win. You could take all of them.”

-

No pressure tags: @eevylynn @thotpuppy @oldefashioned @renmackree

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac is Suing for Character Defamation

Vil’s agent is a competent woman.

There’s no way she would have kept her position if she wasn’t. A minor he may’ve been, but even when he was starting out, Vil Schoenheit knew better than to allow someone slothful or greedy to manage his talent and performances.

His father helped him weed out those burdened by these vices, even trusting his son’s judgement on those who tried to play on the long relationships his father had built with them, until Vil’s current agent was the last one left standing.

She was a protege of Vil’s father’s manager, one who already had experience managing older talent, but also a rather scrupulous set of morals concerning children.

Vil has always suspected this may have something to do with all the younger siblings and cousins she sometimes mentions. He’s not going to risk their professional relationship to confirm it though.

She calls him every morning to give him the rundown on his projects for the day, as well as any news that could be pertinent to him.

This morning, like many other mornings before it, she says, “You’re being scouted for several roles by a number of notable studios. Warui Bros. and Reynard Studios are still keeping the roles of the rival open—“

“Pass.” Vil states as he finishes daubing on his primer. “As I’ve said the last two times.”

“Well,” There’s the sound of nails tap-tap-tapping away on her tablet. “Akareiju Studios has a role they’ve requested you specifically for a new movie—!“

“With everything I’ve got on my plate?” He says dismissively. “Hardly. Send my—“

“You’d be the male lead.” She says.

Vil pauses for a moment, sponge hovering over his skin.

“It’s a movie adaptation of a light novel that’s been popular online lately,” She rattles off with her usual efficiency. “Lost Princess: Entangled with my Graceful Family. The premise is simple—Karatsumori Megami, a middle schooler mourning the death of her mother, discovers she is actually the kidnapped youngest daughter of a powerful family, and is whisked away to a life of luxury. Along the way she must adapt to the pressures of her new lifestyle, open up the hearts of her long lost siblings, befriend others at her new elite school, and thwart the bullying of her twisted, cruel stepsister, proving that she is worthy of her place in the family. The author of the novel has agreed to personally work on the screenplay alongside the producers.”

Vil is careful not to pull a face as he sweeps the foundation brush over his cheeks. Trite, as plots went, but that was what audiences enjoyed. Something uncomplicated for them to leave feeling satisfied as though the accomplishments of the fictional characters were their own.

“The role of the male lead in this film is filled by the female lead’s eldest brother.” She continues. “Gracey Enji, heir to the Gracey Corporation. Described as a princely, serious high schooler, burdened with the expectations of inheriting his father’s role as CEO and pushing aside his feelings to better protect the interests of his younger siblings from afar. He’s the one with the most faith in the female lead and does his best to help her out overtly and covertly, but doesn’t actually let his guard down until she recognizes his efforts and vows to support him.”

Vil tilts his head to the side, considering his own face.

Not this look, certainly, it’s too glamorous, too Vil Schoenheit.

But some more subdued makeup colors, while still tinted to enhance his natural features, a severe, almost-too-finely-tailored cut to his clothes, maybe a pair of glasses to emphasize the image of a hard-working professional…

Yes, he could see himself donning the mantle of “Gracey Enji” well.

But there’s still one quibble that needs to be dealt with before he can get too invested.

“Who else will be part of the cast?” His attempts to make the question sound light and careless fall slightly flat. “Anyone I know?”

She hems and haws, the clicking of her fingers flying over her tablet screen audible through the phone.

“Neige LeBlanche has been approached,” His agent says. “For a brief cameo during the funeral scene as the heroine’s childhood friend.”

A slow smirk spreads over Vil’s face.

“Send me the script. I’ll have a read-through.”

***

Idia’s been over the hype about LoPri since before it even got off the ground.

He heard about it through one of the threads he frequents on Dreddit, a recommendation from a well-known user whose opinion he’s kind wishy-washy on.

He tried it, found the writing bland, the characterization muddy yet restrictive, and really couldn’t vibe with the undertones of “nuclear family by blood is the best and only real family, any kids born outside of a conventional marriage are inherently thieving irredeemable scumbags”.

What kind of message is that in this day and age?? Even the gods had more liberated family relations than that. Idia will be the first to burn the world down for Ortho, but this depiction of siblings kind of pisses him off, a tiny bit.

Unfortunately, even though he’s written it off as barely-above-garbage-tier, all the normies online have jumped on the hype train to sing its praises.

He’d usually just avoid the fandom, block and move on, but it’s like a fungus. It keeps popping up, even in places that should be safe! Places that should be sacred!

MrLeotaGracey: how can you not read LoPri

MrLeotaGracey: were you born in a barn???

cLoThO115: ???

MrLeotaGracey: smh

MrLeotaGracey: leota-chan and megami-chan are the most beautiful in existence

littollethegurl: no one was talking about lopri tho??

MrLeotaGracey: literally actual goddesses

MrLeotaGracey: if premo has any brains theyll do a tribute for LoPri

MrLeotaGracey: its just common sense for a dying idol group like this lol

PreMo5Evrr: dude wtf

Places like the message board for Precipice Moirai!!

Idia sighs despondently.

What is the world coming to, that stans like this can come into a nice chat like this and begin trash talking like they own the place? True, this guy is more virulent than the average fan, but the fact that he can’t read the atmosphere is just depressing.

And some users are getting triggered, which will lead to them getting banned unless someone does something.

Gloomurai: lol imagine god defending a ln thats the embodiment of mid

Gloomurai: imo cant relate

MrLeotaGracey: kys

MrLeotaGracey: fucking virgin whore

MrLeotaGracey: cringe loser cunts who cant understand how amazing LoPri is dont deserve rights

And any second now…

*MrLeotaGracey was banned by Mod Rougelike105*

“Another thread saved. Thank you for your services, Mod-sshi.” Sure they won’t be able to see the little salute he’s giving them, but he’s in his room! There’s no one to judge him here.

Idia stretches with a sigh. It’s not much, but whacking LoPri trolls is honest work.

Ah, Muscle Red’s signed on!

Idia eagerly turns his mind to much more welcome matters, like smashing mobs, defeating bosses, and collecting loot with his best friend online.

***

Bella DeNiâmerée is a tolerable enough writer, though her penchant for constant similes leaves something to be desired.

Vil’s just glad the other screenwriters have toned down the worst of her literary foibles.

The rest of the cast and crew are pleasant, professional, and enjoyable to work with. There are a few roles that haven’t been filled yet—the kind elder sister, one or two of the heroine’s quirky friends, the villainess—but overall read-throughs have been productive and helped him gain a better understanding of the role he is to play.

And he is the male lead. Someone who will stand in the spotlight all the way to the end, a proud protector of this happy little family.

Great Seven, what an intoxicating feeling it is.

He’s read source material a few times by now, to understand the odd, tech-punk world that the story is based in.

It seems like it’s almost a carbon copy of Twisted Wonderland, but without the magic. Some of the terminology, like “Instagram”, “Siri”, or “motorcycle” is a little confusing, but overall it’s easy to understand his character’s motivations.

Maybe it’s because of however many times he’s been made to take up the role himself, but Vil seems incapable of not feeling…something for the villainess.

And yes, more often than not that something is exasperation or disappointment, but the point still stands.

A bastard child singled out from the others for her resemblance to her mother, the kidnapper who’d been raising the heroine as her own. Constantly striving to be recognized, to outdo the legitimate children through any means, returning their ire with blunt, cutting barbs.

And with the arrival of the heroine, the villainess seeks to oust the one aiming to usurp her place with a tenacity that is almost reminiscent of the Beautiful Queen’s own.

And yet she resorts to such ugly means to accomplish her end—bullying, cheating, even arranging for the heroine to be kidnapped! Of course, all this results in is her getting exposed at the heroine’s middle school graduation, rejecting her forgiveness and stomping off to disownment in defeat.

Vil despairs of her choices, even as he privately sympathizes with her motives.

Really, if Gracey “Yuu” Fuyuhime has just focused on proving her suitability over her uncultured sister rather than trying to drag her down out of fear, she would still be an uncontested member of the family. The levels she let herself sink to, those were her downfall.

Vil himself certainly would never fall to those depths.

Still, the new school year will start soon. Vil’s third year at Night Raven College, his last year as dorm head.

He’s going to do his upmost to ensure it’s one that everybody will remember and recognize him for.

***

There’s some commotion going on at the entrance ceremony.

Idia watches the feed from his tablet with some vague interest. One of the firsties has been outed by the mirror as having no magic in their soul, and now the familiar they brought along has set Kalim-sshi on fire.

Boy, is he glad he’s not there in person. Fs in chat for Kalim-sshi.

Still, he thinks as his fingers fly over his keyboard, his tablet taking a picture of the trouble-making first year and setting up an image search. It’d be troublesome if some magicless scrub tried to wrangle a monster to sneak in to orientation, hoping they could coast by to get in to NRC.

Still, a background check and confirmation of their status emailed to the headmaster should clean the situation up.

Though, isn’t it too much that he has to do all this for the headmaster? He really needs some kind of compensation. Perhaps an exemption from all of Vargus’ classes? Extra budget for Ignihyde? Maybe even some new specs for Ortho—!

A jingle erupts from Idia’s speakers. A match!

He chuckles to himself as he taps on the link his search has brought up. Honestly, if someone was going to break in to NRC, they should know better than to leave traces of themself all over the net, like some cheesy villain—

The image that has popped up is an illustration from a light novel. The closeup of a face filled with resentment and distrust, the kind of expression to send shivers down anyone’s spine. Overgrown bangs casting the eyes in shadow for that extra bit of menace.

The header at the top of the screen proclaims this image to be page 39 of Lost Princess. The introduction of the villainess.

Eh?

Eh??

***

The first year with the out of control familiar is shouting at Crowley.

“—and, as I’ve been trying to tell you, I do not want to be here. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where I am. And honestly?! I’ve half a mind to press charges against you and your sham of an institution for abduction of a minor!!”

Crowley squawks some insulted response as Vil rolls his eyes. Honestly, who did this magicless potato think they were?

Even if they did have a vaguely familiar face, it’s disappointing to see they’re ignorant of the best school in Twisted Wonderland. Though, maybe this dearth of knowledge is why they thought bringing a familiar they couldn’t control to Night Raven College was a good idea.

“Pomefiore, this way.” He calls. “Rook, if you could take the lead?”

He needs to keep an eye on that poison apple who’s now going to be under his care. Make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish, like try to escape.

As he glances behind him, he can see the headmaster and the magicless potato asking something else of the Dark Mirror. The potato is growing more and more agitated.

Oh well. It’s hardly his concern. He turns to follow—

“Kyoto? Tokyo?! Japan?! Do those mean nothing to you?!”

Vil feels himself stop despite his every intention.

He stares at the teenager who’s thrown their hood back, desperation in every inch of their frame.

The teenager who is the spitting image of the villainess in the light novel he’s the lead in the movie of.

Who has just name dropped the fantasy land said light novel takes place in.

What the fuck.

[astarionfixation]

Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!

A multi chapter adventure in Astarion's mind

Chapter 2 - +As if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over+

Rating: eventually Explicit but just a lot of mind tease so far.

Word count count: 2.3k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/137824306

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

Teaser:

In an exasperated sigh he breathes in again and all the effort he put into keeping lucid since he got back into her room is crashing down upon him. The nauseatingly spiced mix of wine and flowers assaulting his senses once again, and her breath caressing his face as he just now realises he must have leaned in without thinking. *As if she’s not been a damned little inconvenience already!* But that’s when she begins stirring and the image of the moment when he was just that close to her a few hours prior, flashes in his mind again. Her warm fingers on the back of his neck as traitors ready to find a spot to bury a dagger  *I should know! I’ve played this game before, you hussy! better than you ever will!* Those fingers seemingly trying to grasp at him just before a soft whiff of that intoxicating scent escaped her lips when she hummed, barely intelligible: Stay.

Chapter Two - *as if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over*

Notes: *Astarion's Thoughts* +quotes from her journal+ "audible dialogue" -remarks-

aul iasa nha tho is Elvish for "in vino veritas", otherwise said "In wine there's truth" or the general idea that people are much more guileless when intoxicated.

He must’ve read those pages so many times that it’s surprising how they have not been worn out. And the fact he doesn’t technically need to sleep surely hasn’t helped the surprise quickly turn to addiction.

*How could I have not noticed?!*

The tightly kept book gave him more access to her mind, her actual thoughts, that any connection the worms might have forced them to share, and that’s likely why everyone promptly agreed to stay out of everyone’s business for the time being. And it wasn’t quite like he meant to break that deal, he was just severely unprepared for what he had found in that insignificant shiny little volume. All handwritten. By her.

Along with the odd note of information gathered during the last few days, the pages were filled mostly with just her reflections, clearly never intended for eyes that were not her own deep ones, eyes he never felt lingering on him more than the time it was necessary to be called for duty, to be addressed as politely as an accidentally forced companionship put them together. And he was supposed to know, to see, to read people and understand how to play them as if fiddling with an instrument he himself had built from scratch! The countless souls he alone had enticed and played every key, including -especially- the dark, heavy ones. Then how could he have missed the eyes she had been looking at him with? How could he have missed the intention? How could she have walked this earth without a tenth of the time he had and compete with his own ability to mask and dissipate any impression of sentiment or feeling?

He started to genuinely wonder if there could have been a mistake, perhaps she had been keeping the little metallic book for someone else *and yet I saw her and her damned quill on it! I saw her unimpressed and vacant eyes!* while clearly less than a day ago her thoughts must have been so focused on him they should have burnt a hole in his back:

+I cannot cope with the heart rending clench, from my stomach to the tip of my hair, diffusing a cold, quivering heat as if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over in just a moment, every time his voice pours, like honey, into my ears+

He found himself catching breath he didn’t need for hours, disgusted surely by the idea that she kept him in her mind so often, yet compelled to scrutinise every single line, with no chance to concede that even just one word she spent on him could have gone amiss. He had dozens of pages to commit to memory before sunrise, now that his plans toward individual freedom had suddenly fallen apart. There was no tadpole solution, no way to charm and dominate the worms, nothing to guarantee he could remain himself while still feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin.

*Nothing to guarantee the warmth of her skin if her thoughts get consumed until there’s nothing left of her*

And he has to shake his head physically from the thought because *why!? Why would she be the issue now!?* when he has his own thoughts, his own brain to worry about, his own survival as the only thing that has kept him unnaturally alive for over two centuries, well before she was barely an idea in her parent’s minds! 

His arm pulls back and the book’s metallic cover hits the door he’s still sitting against. He should be throwing it with such force that would destroy that little insignificant piece of paper conjuring all kinds of soft, enticing visions, while none will help with their shared issue: they are all on borrowed time.

+it was a good delusion of power, as if anyone could really be just... So mature for their age... But that's another story, I don't like the stories of my memories, read in hindsight…+

And that’s what froze him in place. She doesn’t spell it out but just reading the words pulls his stomach just the same, he knows that feeling, the lulling comfort that the idea of pleasing a tyrant and taking each beating as a compliment will do. His eyes close and this time the little precious book is brought to his chest, just where his heart last beat all those centuries ago. And his tintless eyebrows furrow, his usually graceful traits tighten in what is almost a grimace, teeth clenching as his head shakes once more, but this time it’s because his own memories made stories out of his delusions of power, when no matter the amount of sacrifices he brought back every night, neither his body nor his mind were spared the abuse and humiliations from his cruel Master. Cazador’s looming body flashes behind his tightened eyes.

*Fourth: thou shalt know that thou art mine.*

The rules of his master played like an obsessive charm in his head over and over,  and then it’s kinder, it’s easier to embrace what felt like the only power he had, seducing and pleasing whilst hoping for the lesser beating.

It does not matter that air is not needed now, because the sharp intakes cut through his lips and down to the bottom of his lungs, and his lips pull almost as if from muscle memory and like he so often did before. To please and appease him, to make the punishment shorter and numbing his own mind for longer.

And all of a sudden it all stops. His arms feel as if they are strained by efforts he does not recall, the heavy door behind his back certainly not as comfortable as the bed in front of him and 

*oh yes, the little useless book* 

The book that gave him no more freedom he had the night before. He would throw it mindlessly but his hand finds a way to just leave it to rest on the floor, while with an agile movement he’s back on his feet, and in a moment he’s theatrically falling on the bed, face hitting the pillows first, and a long unnecessary breath empties his lungs with the last remnants of something that reminds him of mulled wine and flowers.

—-----------

The noise of boots outside snaps him out of his trance just when the last of the candles must have burnt out as a swirl of smoke still rises in the otherwise darkened room. Voices muffled behind the door tell him his companions are only now getting to their beds which means not much will be expected of him that morning.

*Thank fuck!*

His arms move the pillow around to bury his face onto it and hoping to fall into trance again when a deeper sigh rises from his chest, and he knows. He knows what he has to do to avoid any consequences to befall upon him. Never before a sleight of hand has failed him so spectacularly and now he's not only stuck with the merry fellowship of warmbloods ignorami 

*no closer to understand and control the worm in my head*

but now with the knowledge that their pretty, little accidental leader has had her eyes fixed on him way more often than he ever realised.

*Shit… does she know?* 

And with that thought he rolls on his back, the crook of his elbow sheltering his eyes and with a final exasperated sigh he pulls himself up. Even in the darkened room he can see the metallic cover trying its best to reflect whatever resemblance of light it can catch. His long, delicate fingers pick it up and he finds himself almost laughing at himself

*You thought this was going to be your freedom and now you're just more chained to her them*

Of course he's just stuck being a monster, what did he expect? He gathers the book in his hands and not far, discarded by the door, he finds the small lock, the mockery of having to use his lockpicking skills to put it back together does not escape him.

Once the lock is back in place there’s only one thing left to do. His resignation has almost taken over if it wasn’t for that tinge just at the bottom of his stomach that wishes for him to destroy the book, destroy the room and have splinters find their way under his skin so that maybe, hopefully, the pain will take his attention away from the spectacular failure he is.

*serves me well for conceding anything to hope*

In a flash he’s out of his door, gliding through the shadows. The corridor should simply bow to his graceful presence as he approaches her room. Again.

His hand pushes the door slightly and in a moment he’s in, this time making sure the lock is turned just to avoid any sudden interruption, and within a few seconds his senses are assaulted once again by that scent that makes him feel both a drunkard and abstinent by necessity more than choice. A sigh is the loudest noise he allows himself to make as he exhales: the less he has her scent in his lungs, the easier it will be to ignore it.

Her breath is deep and regular which gives him information enough to carefully reach for her bedside table where her bag was discarded, and indeed, it’s still there waiting for him, half open. The little book still in his hand and he’s just about to place it back there

*Like absolutely nothing ever happened*

And in that moment he realises, as soon as it’s back, it’s gone. His one window to her unadulterated thoughts is gone. The one access he has ever had to someone, anyone’s actual idea of him that wasn’t serving a purpose or trying to extort something from him. If her behaviour had fooled him so completely then it was reasonable to consider the possibility she never intended to act upon any of her reflections, and the book held so many he found himself cursing the fact his elven life ended earlier and lasted much less than his immortal one, before he could learn how to commit to memory more enduringly that the last few hours perusing the little tome allowed him.

*nasty little tease! letting my mind slip that far back!*

His head shakes slightly and a bitter smile pulls the corner of his lips. There’s no point crying over spilled milk again. His hand doesn’t even touch the bag, but the book is back in it, as if it never left. With his body crouched next to bed he can see the look on her face, the look of someone who has really been peacefully resting for the last few hours, completely and utterly unaware about how she has taken that peace almost directly from him: he should have rested, he should have gone hunting and the mere thought reminds him of that dry, stinging feeling in his throat. But instead of satiating his hunger, gaining any ounce of strength back, any semblance of mortality, he just wasted the entire night on that vexatious little book that she guarded so intensely for absolutely no reason. 

*Nothing no one of value in it!*

In an exasperated sigh he breathes in again and all the effort he put into keeping lucid since he got back into her room is crashing down upon him. The nauseatingly spiced mix of wine and flowers assaulting his senses once again, and her breath caressing his face as he just now realises he must have leaned in without thinking.

*As if she’s not been a damned little inconvenience already!*

But that’s when she begins stirring and the image of the moment when he was just that close to her a few hours prior, flashes in his mind again. Her warm fingers on the back of his neck as traitors ready to find a spot to bury a dagger 

*I should know! I’ve played this game before, you hussy! better than you ever will!*

Those fingers seemingly trying to grasp at him just before a soft whiff of that intoxicating scent escaped her lips when she hummed, barely intelligible: Stay.

And she might just have given him an excellent solution. Out of that image it finally dawns on him: 

*For all she knows, I have never left*

As if the mystification of the last hours had never happened, he can just slip back into the flirtatious role that she last remembers, and at that, he whisks himself up and his leg gracefully drapes over hers so that in the next moment his body is now behind hers, without so much as a breath *or heartbeat* skipped on her part. She wanted him to stay didn’t she? In hindsight it’s just like they say *aul iasa nha tho in vino veritas*. And now her tipsiness really reads as someone’s infatuation, he had confirmation from her own well guarded thoughts, her fingers and heart committing words to paper that would have kept being nothing but denied by the demeanour she carries herself with, except for last night. 

*And isn’t it going to be a delight to coax the truth out of her own lips, when I already know I have her protection, before I even had a chance to persuade her so*

That is the first time the realisation dawns on him: no matter how well she hides her feelings, he is already under her skin, there is nothing that he can’t convince strangers to give him, the knowledge that 

+he’s on my mind, really almost all the time+

And *oh! What a terribly applicative concession!* He knows, before he even thought to strike, that he will hit the target in the perfect bull’s eye. The attainment of that awareness almost lets him enjoy, for the first time, fully, completely, the exhilarating aroma that she emanates, because in due time, understanding how that little precious tome has  opened her mind, her actual mind, to him, he now knows. 

Before he has to ask. 

He will taste her. 

Because she already says yes to him in every thought of hers he occupies.

[formulaphoe]

the rise of christian horner

note: this post mentions the sexual misconduct allegations from earlier this year

image source: daily express

when you think of formula 1, names like hamilton, verstappen, and ferrari come to mind. yet, behind the roaring engines and the glitz of the paddock, there's another name that stands tall—christian horner, the team principal of red bull racing, a figure as pivotal to the team's success as the drivers themselves.

early days and career beginnings

image source: reddit

born on november 16, 1973, in leamington spa, england, christian horner's love for motorsport ignited at a young age. he started his racing career in karting, making his first foray into single-seater racing at the tender age of 18. his ambition saw him compete in various championships, though he never quite made it to the pinnacle of racing. he soon realised that his talents lay not behind the wheel, but in strategy and management.

christian's big break came when he founded his own team, arden international, which competed in formula 3000. under his guidance, arden quickly made a name for itself, attracting talents like the future f1 champion, sebastian vettel. this success didn't go unnoticed, and in 2005, horner was approached by red bull to take the reins of their newly-acquired formula 1 team.

a new era at red bull racing

image source: f1

taking charge at just 31 years old, christian was young, but undeniably ambitious. under his leadership, red bull racing transformed from a mid-field contender to a dominant force in formula 1. the turning point came in 2010 when the team clinched its first constructors' championship, a feat they would go on to repeat four times consecutively. the secret to their success? a combination of innovative engineering, strategic vision, and, crucially, a knack for nurturing talent.

challenges and triumphs

image source: everythingf1

while christian has enjoyed much success, his journey has not been without its challenges. the fierce rivalry with mercedes during the 2010s tested his mettle. the era of lewis hamilton's dominance also presented obstacles, yet christian was instrumental in navigating the team through the complexities of regulations, technical advancements, and the ever-shifting dynamics of f1 politics.

in recent seasons, with the emergence of max verstappen, christian's vision started to bear fruit once again. verstappen's talent, paired with the team's unwavering support, has led to a resurgence, including a spectacular championship win in 2021 that send the f1 world into a frenzy. christian's strategic decisions during these critical races, especially in high-pressure situations, have shown his prowess in not just managing a team, but leading it to glory.

allegations

image source: the independent

earlier this year, christian faced allegations of inappropriate behavior that rocked the motorsport community. these accusations were serious and came amidst a broader reckoning in formula 1 regarding workplace and sexual misconduct.

as investigations unfolded, it was evident that the situation mirrored a growing concern in formula 1, where issues of harassment and misconduct were being brought to light. industry leaders faced increasing pressure to address these matters transparently and responsibly. christian's case highlighted the urgent need for better policies and practices to protect individuals in the paddock.

christian publicly denied the allegations and was acquitted of all accusations.

the future of red bull racing

image source: planetf1

as we look ahead, christian's ambitions for red bull racing are clear. with the team investing heavily in its infrastructure and talent, the aim is to maintain their competitive edge. the new regulations on the horizon present both challenges and opportunities, and christian's strategic foresight will be essential as the sport continues to evolve.

with the team's legacy growing and new talents on the rise, christian's role is more crucial than ever. his vision for sustainable racing and commitment to innovation will shape not just red bull racing, but potentially the entire landscape of formula 1.

sources

"christian horner." wikipedia, 2 oct. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_Horner

taranto, steven. "christian horner situation, explained: formula one red bull team principal accused of 'inappropriate behavior." cbs sports, 8 mar. 2024, www.cbssports.com/motor-sports/news/christian-horner-situation-explained-formula-one-red-bull-team-principal-accused-of-inappropriate-behavior/

shaw, graham. "christian horner: the life and times of an f1 great with a spice girl wife." gpfans, 28 feb. 2024, www.gpfans.com/en/f1-news/87455/christian-horner/

"christian horner: 'it was my first time in a single-seater." winfield, winfieldracingschool.com/christian-horner-red-bull-team-principal-it-was-my-first-time-in-a-single-seater/

braybrook, rebecca. "who is christian horner? red bull boss' history and net worth." motorsport, 28 feb. 2024, www.motorsport.com/f1/news/christian-horner-red-bull-team-principal-career-history-net-worth/10580854/

specter, emma. "formula 1's sexual-misconduct scandal, explained." vogue, 18 mar. 2024, www.vogue.com/article/christian-horner-formula-1-sexual-misconduct-allegations

if any errors or typos are noticed, PLS PLS point them out via comment, ask, or dm. if there is a specific topic you would like me to cover, send in an ask and i'll look into it!

[godfistgonnalive]

please ramble as hard as you can about pruita I need to hear what you have to say about them

grabs you by the shoulders very roughly.

ok. my favorite flavor of pruita is utterly unrequited. cuz its very funny to me. my fav thing to do is listen to music and think about unrequited pruita like L imagine 😹😹but also its kind of sad and i like how its sad but also funny

like think about the prussia cleaning game like omg.... he loves him.... its so silly.......

PRUSSIA STROKED IN HAPPINESS! WHAT THE FUCK! GAY!

and he literally was imaginging them like together on some sort of boat idk what its called like ugh

and the fucking BLOG. ive already posted these before but. my god.

he likes him so much....... its unbelievable........

like are you serious. he so very obviously has a crush on him THERES SO MUCH PROOF OF IT AND [im trying to restrain myself here from being salty about prucan shippers so i will stop myself here.]

ok im racking my brain to try and think of what to say rn cuz as much as i say i wanna talk about my ships i know deep down in my heart i dont have much to say that i can turn into coherent thoughts.

back to my thoughts and not canon content. unrequited pruita. like ok you know that hetalia itself is just gerita fanfiction. like i love gerita. who doesnt. and thats where it comes in in my version of pruita. like prussia is so in love with italy and italys like omggg germanyyyy :3 like. oh my gfod can i talk about the songs i associate with them. the answer is yes i cant be stopped.

ok puppy princess by hot freaks. fucking UGH. unrequited big fat crush ANTHEM right here.

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. prussia is the goofy friend... prussia loves italy...... and italy loves germany........ my goodness.........

NO OTHER HEART BY MAC DEMARCO. THIS IS LITERALLY PRUITA.

i love gerita truth pruita so much but not in the love triangle way like i mean thats what it sounds like but its more like a fucked up triangle like

it doesnt connect all the way... cuz in love triangles dont they usually like compete!>>! like prussia loves italy but in my pruita brain he wouldnt like.. actually really try to get with italy while he knew that germany was trying to get with him.... you know.... he wouldnt do that to his brother..... so he just keeps his crush to himself.... rip.... and thats the fun of it ! ! ! he yearns but he'll never have him... love that

LOVERS ROCK. BY TV GIRL. THIS ONE LYRIC. JESUS CHRIST.

TRYING TO SELL YOU SOMETHING THAT YOU ALREADY HAVE. UGH.

AND LOOKING OUT FOR YOU BY JOY AGAIN. ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS.

IM GONNA GO CRAZY!

and peach scone. by hobo johnson.

ltierally every time... prussia calls italy cute.... god......

now. onto requited pruita.

i think theyre silly cute so much so much :3 :3 :3 hold on gotta check pixiv so i can formulate thoughts. ok like i mostly think about prussia's side of things when it comes to required pruita but in my opinion prussia is CRAZY about that man. jesus christ. and italy thinks hes super silly and loves him 🫶🫶🫶 HOLD ON I SHOULD FILL OUT ONE OF THOSE UNDERSTAND NMY SHIP THINGS HOLD ONNNNNN

got a little lazy but you understand.

i think thats all i have to say . i feel like i didnt really say much just put images and then said something along the lines of "jesus christ" or "what the fuck" but i think you undestand. thank you for asking. PEACE AND LOVE!

ALSO WAIT I HAVE MORE. i LOVE gerita marriage. they are so married. and i love thinking about prussia watching the boy hes had a big fat crush on for god knows how long get married to his brother. LMAO! and hes like crying like hes happy for his brother,... but oh man........ LMAOOOOO

i love prussia so much. make him suffer now

ok thanks for reading :heart:

edit:i just realized onm the height thing onm the ship chart i forgot to put 6 CM and instead put 6 M. oops

[houseofbrat]

Submission: Continuing Questions Regarding the Wales

Brat:  If this is too long, just delete.

I am at the point where I’m wondering if William is having a mental crisis of some sort. Even if he’s not doing the ribbon cutting (that apparently he despises), there could be daily updates from KP. William, The Prince of Wales, met with blahblahblah this afternoon to discuss blahblahblah, etc., etc. As it is, there is almost radio silence. You know what? William should be doing DOUBLE the workload to make up for Catherine’s absence. Apparently, that never occurred to him. What IS the man doing with his time? The kids are in school. His wife is under the care of the most competent doctors in the UK. I will remind the Wales fandom that although the Queen was mum about her medical condition–even as it was obvious that she was battling something that was obviously fatal–she continued to WORK. She quietly shuffled off a bunch of duties to her son, the current King, but she was still visually present. I think there has been a serious breach between Charles and William, along the lines of Charles and Harry. Maybe it’s because of Harry. But not actively supporting his father during the King’s medical journey is unacceptable. (As far as I can tell, he’s made ONE comment, and that was on February 8, and it was also a twofer, mentioning his wife first). While the King is undergoing “real” chemo, the Queen and other family members picked up the slack. William did not assume his father’s duties that we can see. I find it *shameful* that William has just enough bandwidth to make rare comments about his wife but is essentially absent in supporting his father’s cancer journey as well. In fact, we can’t see much of what he IS doing.

Also, I find this chatter about Adelaide Cottage rather interesting, because I think the original move was a PR push to pad the fiction that they are just like you and me, except they are royal. Now we hear that they are, um, renovating an annex because, hello, it’s too small. No shit. I guess the push to shove Andy out of the Lodge failed, and how they are stuck with Adelaide for the near future. One look at Amner Hall will immediately dispel the fiction that they don’t have a battery of help to manage their lives. They ARE royalty. William isn’t out in Norfolk mowing the grass and clipping the hedges on Saturday mornings. This place has TEN bedrooms. Are we honestly supposed to believe that they are roaming around in this enormous mansion by their lonesome, dusting, cooking, and sweeping? I don’t think so. Do I think that Catherine is responsible and probably makes the kids make their own beds every day? Yes, I do. Do I think she’s making three meals a day? No, I don’t. If I remember correctly, Anmer Hall has two kitchens. Does Catherine muck about with the kids in the kitchen making brownies on Saturday afternoons? Sure. Is she putting forth meals every night? Not bloody likely. Again, they have a battery of staff at their disposal no matter if some fans think that Wills is washing up every night after Catherine throws together some mac and cheese at the last minute. Someone who can spend over $72,000 on clothes and accessories for ONE YEAR is not putting dinner on the table every night. Get real, people!

It would improve William’s image if he did events WITH his father. And, yes, I know the polls are showing that William and Catherine have the highest approval rating. Let’s look at those stats in a year. It didn’t take very long for the Harkles to plunge to the bottom. I don’t think that Catherine will ever hit any true lows because there is a genuine quality about her that is transcendent. She truly connects with the public, and the camera doesn’t lie (take notes, Meghan). But William seems to be using ANY excuse not to do his job (and I am serious about this; it is his *job* to be The Prince of Wales) that will, over time, deplete all that goodwill generated by Catherine’s illness. I think he’s using Catherine’s illness to shun his duties. Or not. We don’t know! I for one am not swayed by the story that William can’t do anything because of Catherine’s medical regimen. If it’s THAT serious, then it’s full-blown Stage 4 cancer. If it’s not, then what in the hell is the man doing with his time?

Out of sight, out of mind. Royalty is a visual exercise, otherwise the rabble starts to yell louder. Why are they living in these castles and spending 100,000 pounds on clothes and taking ten vacations a year and we never see them? The concept of the divine right of kings doesn’t work except in the minds of people like Andrew and Harry. It’s privilege on steroids. The one thing that the Wales fandom consistently ignores is that Charles has a tremendous sense of duty. He understands or believes that this is a gift from God. His mother believed the same. Perhaps you have to be religious–which both the King and his mother are/were–to have that sense of God’s gift and it’s accompaning responsibilities. I don’t know if William is religious, but if Charles can get his ass out there looking like shit (AS DID THE QUEEN!), then why in the hell can’t William and, yes, Catherine do the same? Unless we are being lied to about Catherine’s condition.

I continue to question this situation because it remains, IMO, murky and disingenuous. And I think all these journalists who questioned the information coming out of KP were entirely correct. It was a clusterfuck of a PR nightmare. Should they have spread those vile rumors? Of course not. But William and the KP media team are entirely to blame for the CONTINUED smoke screen shadowing William and Catherine, except now journalists feel guilty because they were shamed by her video appearance. I’m not shamed. I continue to have serious questions about what in the hell is going on with these two even as I wish Catherine and her children the best.

—————————

Oh, I’m definitely publishing this because these are some of the same thoughts I have had since the beginning of this year.

To me, the biggest clue that Kate isn’t as sick with CANCER! as Kensington Palace and everyone else believes is the honor she was awarded yesterday–Companion of Honour.

William only got Grand Master of the Order of Bath because he HAS to be given it as heir to the throne. Believe me, if Charles could give William the same honor he awarded Kate yesterday, he would. Without question. A thousand times over. 

Because if Kate was even remotely close to dying or seriously suffering with Stage 4 cancer, they would have given her The Garter because it would be befitting on death for her position and popularity. The fact that they didn’t is clue number one. Clue number two is that Charles clearly has no intention of giving her The Order of St. John, which she could easily be given three or four years from now after a few more public engagements with cancer charities & etc. Maybe she still will but I highly doubt it. Because honors like this aren’t given out every year or even every other year. She’s clearly not going to get anything else for a minimum of five years. 

And I side-eye the entire Wales/Cambridge fandom for whining about Sophie very likely getting The Garter long before Kate will. Ed & Sophie have been doing Will & Kate’s job for more than ten years. Ed & Sophie have been attending the foreign weddings and engagements that Will & Kate should have been attending a long time ago, as their preparation for being on the throne. Of course Sophie is going to get The Garter before Kate. Sophie has been and still is doing Kate’s job for her! Of course Sophie deserves to get The Garter before Kate.  

But, yes, this entire situation is very suspicious. The timelines of events don’t match up to the story KP & Will & Kate have been spinning from the very beginning. That mysterious hospital convoy from 28 December…well, we still have no clarity on that. We might not get any real details on that until a few years down the road, I guess.

[viatagrinner]

Gilbert von Obsidian. Chapter 2

MC is now Gilbert's friend.

And as of tomorrow morning, they will also eat together.

In a good mood, the prince goes to his room. The heroine, too, goes to her room, but suddenly she bumps into something. Not something, but someone. It is Chevalier.

She tries to speak to him, but he looks at her coldly. Then, without a word, he walks back out. Halfway there, he turns his head to show her to follow him.

Chevalier leads the heroine to his hideout, a room in the library. The girl likes an assortment of books: about art, poems, plays, novels, etc.

Chevalier knows that she went out on the town with Gilbert. He didn't ask what happened, he wanted to know what the Prince of Obsidian had asked for.

MC: He wanted to be friends.

Chevalier:

The head of the foreign policy faction went silent for a long time. Even for such an intelligent and far-sighted man, Gilbert's suggestion seemed strange.

MC told the whole story.

MC: Prince Chevalier... how can I stop "being friends" with him?

Chevalier: Why should you stop?

MC: ...I feel that the fate of the country depends on me, and I'm scared.

Chevalier: Don't be arrogant.

He assures her that he is competent enough to protect the country.

Especially since there are seven other princes.

Chevalier: It's silly to take that threat seriously.

MC: I'm sorry...

Chevalier: No need for verbal apologies.

He flicked her forehead.

(I've been bitten, poked... It's a terrible day.)

As punishment, Chevalier thought of a way to exploit the situation.

As Gilbert's new friend, MC would gather information about him.

Now MC is a spy.

Chevalier: Exclusive to me.

She thought being "friends" with Gilbert was a bad thing, but if it could be used.

Why has Obsidian, who has severed all diplomatic ties, now begun to act?

Chevalier smiles, but here he gets serious again.

Chevalier: By the way, an exclusive spy doesn't leak information to anyone but his master.

MC: ...Do you want to keep it a secret from the other princes?

Chevalier: The Princes, bureaucrats, servants, your butler, trust no one.

Chevalier: Several men from the Obsidian side have already infiltrated this castle.

If Gil somehow found out that the girl is "Belle," then there really is a spy among them.

Chevalier knows that Gilbert is good at domination and manipulation.

Chevalier: Today's ally may become tomorrow's enemy.

Chevalier: I can predict the next action of the blindfold. This person is likely to make some unpleasant demands in the future.

She may not ask Sariel's permission. Chevalier takes full responsibility for her words and actions.

Chevalier: As long as you are of use to me, I will protect you.

He gave her a badge of honor (?) with a white tiger.

She thanked him, but he was already at the door.

But suddenly the second prince stopped.

Chevalier: ....Once upon a time there was a man who preached that love was the essence of man.

Chevalier: Needless to say, love in this case is compassion for others? The theory is that there are no real villains in this world because they are influenced by their environment.

Chevalier wants her opinion.

(You mean that the essence of a villain is "love",right?)

The first thing that came to her mind was the image of Gilbert.

MC: I don't know. .... I think the answer lies in Prince Gilbert.

Chevalier didn't answer her anything.

And the heroine wonders if she will ever make sense of the question.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Morning.

Breakfast.

Gilbert: You like sweets, don't you? I asked you to make plenty.

He asks the girl, Keith, and Silvio to give him the leftovers.

There are four of them in the room, but the table is set for ten.

Gilbert: Hurry up and eat. Or do you want me to feed you?

She refuses. The food seems tasteless to her. He asks her what it tastes like.

MC: ....I'm nervous and can't taste it.

Gilbert: Ahaha, honest.

Gilbert: If anyone says anything about your manners, I'll shut them up, right?

Silvio asks Keith what he sees.

Keith realizes that he has a victim and a perpetrator in front of him and the girl is not here of her own volition.

Gilbert: What? You want to know about my relationship with Miss Bunny?

MC takes the lead, fearing Gilbert will reveal her true role.

MC: I am a friend.

Silvio is annoyed and asks her not to lie.

Gilbert: It's true, isn't it? And the proof is that I know everything about her.

Silvio: Like what?

Gilbert: There's a bakery near her house where an elderly couple works. She likes to buy sandwiches there.

Also, according to Gil, the heroine likes to sit on a hill overlooking the city, eat sandwiches and read. When she has time, she reads from morning to night and even, once, caught a bad cold. Many people in town were concerned.

Only people close to me knew about it.

(Moreover, I had a cold before I even met Rio, so it was at least three years ago.)

She doubts anyone would talk about trivia. It's not just about "Belle" anymore.

She's never met Gilbert, she's a simple townie and couldn't possibly attract the attention of a prince of a large empire.

Her fork fell to the floor.

MC wanted to pick the fork up off the floor, but Gil wouldn't let her. Only commoners do that.

She realizes her blunder and asks the servant to fetch cutlery.

Silvio and Keith sympathize with her.

Silvio: Just by looking at the woman, did you get this information from somewhere?

Prince of Obsidian confirms it.

Silvio doubts that Gilbert knows more such episodes. Gilbert replies that he can name at least a hundred episodes.

Keith: Mr. Gilbert... even if you were real friends, you're invading a woman's privacy too much.

Silvio: Do you know what to call a man like that?

Silvio: They call him a perverted stalker bastard.

Gilbert: Ahaha, right. Those words don't exist in Obsidian, so this is the first I've heard of them.

The Obsidian prince isn't offended, Miss doesn't get it.

MC: How did you know about me?

Gilbert: Secret.

After that, the prince went on eating as if nothing had happened.

MC: But that's not fair...

The girl talks about how the prince knows a lot about her, but she knows nothing about him.

Keith backed her up.

Gilbert: Friendship is born by getting to know each other, so you have a right to know me.

But it's not enough to just have a meal together.

Gilbert: That's why, unless we're together from morning to night, the amount of information I know about you isn't true.

He grabbed her hands with his icy fingers.

Gilbert: Well...? Will you let me help you with your job?

Silvio spit out the tea he was drinking, and Keith dropped the cutlery he was holding on the floor.

The girl is shocked.

Gilbert: Well, you help princes with their official duties for the sake of learning, don't you?

(Maybe he means "I'll help you choose a king.")

Gilbert: If I help you, we can always be together, right?

But Gilbert has his official duties.

Gilbert: Don't worry, I can give you as much time as I want.

Gilbert: Not a bad story, is it?

You take the offer or he makes you do it.

But now she's not just "Belle," she works for Chevalier.

She accepts.

Silvio: Huh!?

Keith: Miss MC?

Silvio calls the girl a fool.

(If I said no, it might complicate things.)

Especially since Chevalier is standing behind her back.

The girl pulls the insignia out of her skirt pocket and puts it on her blouse.

Gilbert is the first to react to the emblem, depicting a white tiger.

He laughs, realizing that Chevalier understood what he was up to.

Gilbert: That's why Rhodolite is worth crushing.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Gilbert's Masterlist

[fireangelsstuff-inactive-2024]

Ok so here's how it looks to me:

If Megan🐷/Chris' agency had control over his social media accounts....

She would have been the one doing the trail of likes ❤️ on IG to set this SMA up to begin with and having professionals drop the "tea" on fan forums, possibly even setting some of them up by sending messages to people using his IG account posing as him and leaking the screenshots

Other people's teams may have even been participating in it as well to help set up the narratives a lá the Kelly rumour/the Scott friend texts etc

This may also actually mean that the SMA is decided on much earlier than anyone admits if you count the date of his original anxiety tweet the year before, meaning they had a year to set up the PR campaign for "his other half" but because he wasn't actually serious about anyone and was just dating around it became a sh*tight between competing teams, hence the dumpster fire rumour sh*tshow fed to the fans

Did the highest bidder win? Which contract won out? The SMA campaign is completely buyable and able to be manipulated and the winner is established well in advance?

Hack the fans, steal their images and chase them off, then have the paid for accounts posing as fan accounts post the images as part of the next narrative push at New York ComiCon?

The team did the scrubbing on her other background info, only to release it all later on to mess with Christopher when he decided he wanted to fire Megan🐷/his team after the backlash from the papwalk and SMA release? Is any of that info even legitimate or has that been photoshopped too?

Was the info edited in or edited out?

Fake texts anyone? Not to mention targeting and scamming fans to scare them off? What about the pic in the doorway with Dodger and the trainer from the valentine's day dump? I heard the trainer wasn't happy about her likeness being used....

Remember the woman in the papwalk video on twitter also showing up at the Premiere of Ghosted?

That was weird...(Was that an assistant from Marla's/🐟 team?)

Megan🐷/his team had the means and ability to spin the story to Deuxmoi given that she probably has her number in order to spin the narrative that 🐟 did it on purpose, how much of this fake narrative has been fed to DeuxMoi?

But then because Chris' IG account was the only one still active and he wanted to fire Megan etc, she took the money backing 🐟 and posted the story dumps to his IG

Weird how the Black Raven account deactivated right after 🐟 lost her IG account......did he almost have control back, and his team🐷 took the money and went with the paid for narrative (by Netflix? CAA? People Mag?) to run him into the ground since he refused to be held hostage by her antics?

Weird how his twitter account "accidentally" liked that tweet one time by Black Raven and brought attention to it....

Makes me wonder just how long Megan🐷 etc could have been planning all of this, and how long Chris has really been trying to get away from her, does she believe in future planning? I hope she has a retirement fund....

Does it go back to his time with Jim? Did he want to leave and go with him but made the mistake of staying with 🐷? Or was she or someone else holding something over him to keep him there? And why?

Who's really responsible for the dick pic leak? Was that even Chris'? The ankles look too skinny to me?

Was that only the first time someone tried to sabotage him?

If they are hiring trolls at both ends then just how many of the rumours throughout the years have been put out just to get him to pay them to put out the fire for him

All of this just to push a fake wedding rumour? Fake pregnancy rumours?

White knight syndrome?

Did we finally find the spiders that spun the webs? 🕷️

Why so jealous Megan🐷?

Did you shoot your shot and get turned down? Sounds like inappropriate conduct for a client relationship to me!

Are you the blonde on the plane sitting behind him going to Disney?

More importantly who's paying?

And how many other artists are they doing this to?

Sounds like a work trip.....

and about time Chris Evans hired a lawyer

🤍🪽✨

[tawneybel]

Note: “Izzy Bohen x fem!reader x Jake (I forgot his last name but they’re both from Jeepers creepers 2) love triangle? I do like some rivalry. You can add the creeper if you want as well, make it into a love square? *wiggle eyebrows*” Turned this into a love (?) pentagon, because Dante 🤤.

Imagine Izzy and Jake competing for your affection. 

You counted yourself and the boys lucky that Izzy just reported for the Bannon Bantams. If he’d played for them, well, he and Jake would have the cockfight of the century. 

Izzy’d been disappointed when you’d opted for cheer squad instead of the newspaper. But you’d assured him the front row seats were worth it. He agreed, expression thoughtful. 

Jake’d been psyched. Had even suggested the Bannon Banner do a feature. Which you shied away from, not wanting to kick off the season with resentful teammates. Of course, Jake had given Izzy shit. And continued to give him shit, all because of- 

“-so much ink, huh? I’m serious, people are starting to think you’re sweet on him.” 

Oh, Dante. 

Izzy did write about him a bit. But that was mostly due to the reporter’s rivalry with Jake. How much messier it would be if Dante was thrown into the mix! Or if it was even just a love triangle with Dante. Izzy/You/Dante. Jake/You/Dante. Izzy/Dante/Jake. 

Good thing, you figured, glancing everywhere but skyward, no one else was seriously interested in you or Dante or Jake- 

“Really? I heard that was you.” 

Time to step in. Bucky noticed you stroll up from behind before the other two did. 

“There are no urinals… out here,” you greeted, gesturing at the vast farmland. “Why you all together?” 

The team manager had already slunk off. Not because he didn’t like you. Bucky just found Jake to be more a cocksore loser around crushes. The jock at least looked slightly embarrassed. For a sec. 

“Hey, ______.” Jake made no effort to conceal himself. “Caught me with my pants down.” 

“Don’t turn around,” you teased. “Or get any ideas,” grumbled Izzy, pants zipped as he faced you. 

“No, here’s one. Why don’t you write about a pretty girl for once?” 

“What, I thought you were jealous I don't write enough about you?” 

Their squabbling ceased after boarding the bus. The rivalry was still there, strong as ever, but Jake and Izzy at least sat far apart. The latter kept casting longing glances back. Dante was on the same side as you, but farther back. You could only imagine the shitstorm if you’d asked to sit next to the player with the most “ink.” Maybe he’d mediate.

Yeah, right.

A few glimpses into Rhonda’s compact mirror revealed Jake was also yearning. His eyes drifted between you and… Dante? 

An image of you and him, lips locked, squeezed between Jake and Izzy popped into your head. The compact fell into your lap. You nonchalantly passed it back to Rhonda. Dante’s pretty face wasn’t likely to be within kissing distance anytime soon. 

You had volunteered as a junior bus monitor for the elementary school, as part of a class. This experience came in handy when you begged Betty to let you help lay road flares. Anything to get away from crushes and admirers for a minute. 

Unfortunately, Coach Hanna was spontaneously raptured and you, knocked onto your *ss after something smacked your ass, only narrowly avoided rolling out of the way after his flare dropped. You remained still. The others were talking, but the mounting horror was too distracting. 

“______?!” 

“I’m okay!” 

Betty went to help while Barnes called out for the other coach. You shakily got to your feet. The driver continued to lay flares as she approached, before she too was ripped off the face of the earth. But not before the assailant made your rump smart again.

Note: Pluto TV kept glitching, so I couldn’t rewatch it completely. :(