#I'm also uncertain if I'll keep it long.

[delyth88]

I love how 'bald' as an option actually makes sense in this one. XD

And reading the comments it looks like there's gonna be a lot of older women having bright funky hair colours when the next couple of generations hit this age, and I love it!

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[incognit0slut]

i hope this is how to send a request cuz this is my first time requesting anything. but i wanted to ask if you could do a story of spencer x reader of when he comes back home from prison in season 12? i don't know if i want it to be girlfriend and boyfriend or if they're married i don't really know, sorry. but i don't really mind either way. hope you can write something like this, thank you :))) <333

tysm for trusting me with your first request and sorry this took so long, it's also kind of rushed and I'm not too confident with it but I hope you like it <3

Home is whenever I’m with you

Category: angst, hurt, comfort, gn reader ~1.7k words

He’s back. Your boyfriend is back. There's a tangle of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, especially after all that’s happened. You get to hug him, to kiss him, to feel the softness of his thick, beautiful hair under your fingers again.

But not now. His mother is missing. Those are the words Emily spoke to you over the phone after she called to let you know he’s released. It’s ironic, to hear such wonderful news just to be followed by something so disheartening. And the guilt creeps in, that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you had gone to visit his mom as planned, this nightmare could've been avoided.

“Do not blame yourself,” Emily adds, her voice is a lifeline in the chaos of emotions. It's as if she can read your thoughts, know exactly what you're feeling without you saying a word. “Just stay where you are, okay? I've got agents keeping an eye on your building. I'll keep you updated."

You're left with no choice but to accept. Your boyfriend may be back, but you still can’t see him.

And you get it. His mom comes first, always has, and always will. A child's love for their parents is unbreakable, and if you were in his shoes, you'd move heaven and earth to keep your parents safe. So, naturally, you do what any loving and supportive girlfriend would do—you wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Each passing second stretches into agonizing minutes, and those minutes drag on into long, uncertain hours. One skipped meal turns into two, and suddenly, you're lying in bed in the dead of night with an empty stomach. You know you should take care of yourself, but your mind is fixated on him.

What is he doing? Has he eaten anything? Is he taking breaks at all? Has he managed to get any sleep? And most importantly, has there been any news about his mom? 

Your mind is racing, flooded with countless unanswered questions. You try to find comfort in sleep, but every ring of your phone feels like a cruel interruption, each time hoping it's him—or at least a word from his friends. But it's always a disappointment, just meaningless notifications and distant messages from your friends about mundane plans.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, but your sleep is restless, it's as if your mind refuses to grant you a moment of respite. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, at two in the morning, you're jolted awake by the familiar sound of a new message on your phone.

His mom is safe.

A sigh of relief escapes you, almost audible in the silence. You type out a response to Emily with trembling hands.

That’s good to hear. Is he fine?

Not great, but he's managing.

That's all you need to hear. His mom is safe, and though he's not doing great, he's managing well enough. With a weight lifted off your shoulders, you finally allow yourself to relax. At least now you can drift back into sleep knowing that he's partially okay.

You wake up again later that night by a rapid knocking. At first, you try to brush it off as just noise from the neighbors, but as you slowly come to your senses, you realize it's coming from your apartment.

Half-worried and half-curious, you reluctantly peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, your mind racing with possibilities as you approach the door. When you glance through the peephole, you're met with a sight that instantly jolts you awake. Without a second thought, you fumble with the lock and swing the door open.

And there your boyfriend stands, but he's a far cry from the man you remember. His hair is wild and unkempt, and his eyes, usually bright and lively, are now dull and tired, shadowed by exhaustion. He's dressed in his usual suit and tie, a combination you've always admired for its professional and polished look. But today, his shirt is half-tucked, half-untucked, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck

“Spence, what are you—”

Before you can finish, he bursts through the door, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"I'm sorry," he breaks, his voice strained with emotion. "I—I wanted to come here as fast as I can—"

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You wrap your arms around his waist and take in a deep breath. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smells exactly as you remember—warm, familiar, like home. “It’s all good, honey, I don’t mind.” 

“It’s not alright. I should’ve answered your calls—”

“Spencer, it’s okay,” you interrupt gently, running your fingers soothingly down his back. “After all the time you’ve been away, a few more hours hardly matter.”

“Well, it should matter,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you like this.”

You hold him tighter, feeling his weight against you, his breath warm against your skin. “Shh,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He nods against your neck, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

“How’s your mom?”

He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with tired eyes. “She’s... she’s okay,” he replies. “We found her. She’s safe now.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you say, cupping his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates for a moment as if considering the question carefully. “I’m fine, just… tired.”

Your fingers traced the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “Let’s get you inside and comfortable, okay?”

He nods, and you usher him inside, relief flooding through you as you close the door behind you. Your fingers naturally intertwine with his as you guide him towards your bedroom.

“Do you want anything? Water, food?”

He shakes his head, falling into step with you. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “How have you been?”

"Well," you begin, your voice filled with warmth. "'I've been keeping busy while you're gone.”

You lead him to the edge of the bed, sitting him down while you stand between his legs, your eyes meeting his tired gaze. "Work has been... work," you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And I managed to put up the shelf I bought online. Look.”

You gesture towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner of the room and he follows your gaze. “You did that all by yourself?”

"Yeah, I did," you reply, your smile widening. "It wasn't easy without having you constantly nagging me how to do it, but I figured it out."

He nods, a hint of regret shadowing his features. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his cheek. "Don’t apologize.”

He leans into your touch, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. His eyes, wide and brown, look up at you, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy—sad, yet undeniably endearing, with an innocence that melts your heart. You brush a thumb gently across his cheek, noting the subtle change in his appearance.

“You grew out your facial hair.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he shifts under your gaze. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, his voice tinged with self-consciousness. 

You can't help but smile at his bashfulness. "I like it," you assure him. "It suits you."

“Really?”

“It’s growing on me.”

His expression softens at your words, a warmth spreading through his tired features. "Maybe I'll keep it.” 

You nod in agreement, a smile playing on your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He sighs contentedly as he leans into your chest, and you gently stroke his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"It's good to be back," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shirt.

"It's good having you back," you reply softly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.”

"Why would you think that?”

He hesitates for a moment. "After everything that happened... I wasn't sure if I'd make it back to you.”

You gently tilt his chin up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods, his vulnerability laid bare. "I was also afraid that I might lose you,” he adds. “I was afraid you’d get tired of waiting for me.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Everyone I care for always leaves, sooner or later. And I can’t bear the thought… the thought of not coming home without you in my life,” he admits, his voice trembling with emotion and you feel a lump form in your throat as you listen. "I feel… so different right now. I don’t feel like my usual self, and I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like this version of me.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, your gaze locked with his. "I would never think any less of you.”

He sniffs, and that's when you notice a tear escaping down his cheek. Your heart aches even more. “I might not be the same person you last saw me.”

You shake your head, brushing away his tears with your thumb. "It doesn't matter," you reply earnestly. “You're still the person I fell in love with, and nothing will ever change that.”

He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend how you could love him so unconditionally. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I see you," you reply. "Beyond the surface, beyond the changes, I see who you are—the kindness, the strength, the love that has always been a part of you. And that's something that remains unchanged, no matter what."

He exhales softly, his features softening as he absorbs your words. But you aren’t finished, not until he realizes how worthy of love he is.

“You’re still the man who loves silly magic tricks, you’re still the man who asks for jello every time we have dessert,” you tease, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He cracks a small smile at your playful words. “You’re still the man who loves books, who loves learning. You're still the man who loves helping other people.”

You lean closer, your breath mingling with his as your lips almost touch.

“And I’ll be the one to love every version of you,” you whisper. “The person you were, the person you are, and the person you're becoming.”

He grips your hips and pulls you closer. Without a word, you understand what he needs, what he's asking for, and you close the distance between you, your lips brushing against his.

You never truly understand the meaning of bittersweet until this very moment. His tears carry the saltiness of sorrow, but his lips offer a sweetness that lingers on your tongue. You feel the weight of his pain, the heaviness of his grief, yet you also sense a comforting warmth in the way his lips move gently against yours.

You can feel his uncertainty, and it’s clear that getting back into his old routine won't be easy after everything he's been through. But you’re here for him and you're willing to support him in any way you can.

Because he’s back. Your boyfriend is back. You can hardly believe you get to hug him, kiss him, and run your fingers through his thick, beautiful hair once more. You can’t believe you get to hold him again in your arms, and you hope to do so for a very long time.

[ateez-himari]

Deep Down [Treasure Film]

(Archive) Himari's heavy confession on the beach

As the girl waddled over to the staff standing on the shore she couldn't help but fidget with the flag in her hands, her heart already heavy with the words she wanted to say yet was not sure how to.

[The maknae seems to be nervous...]

She retracted her hands back into the sleeves of her jacket and seemed to zone out with her gaze fixed on the sea in front of her for a moment. When she finally turned back towards the other members, the smile she had tried to hard to keep on her lips couldn't hold itself and revealed a rather worried expression.

Since the beginning of their journey she had tried to keep a careless, joyful, exterior but on that night she simply couldn't hide her true emotions anymore. After hearing her friends open up about their insecurities it seemed almost unfair for her to lie to them with such a face, to deceive them though they had been honest with her.

[It seems the maknae's confession will not be a joyful one...]

"I want to start off by saying that I'm sorry." She shouted as loud as she could, her voice breaking slightly at the end of the sentence. "I know that I'm behind you all in terms of skill...and I'm sorry I put the burden of helping me on your backs all the time. I'm also sorry that I brought so much hate to our team."

[Himari's heart is full of apologies...]

Tears began to fill her eyes as she finally opened up the truth hidden in her heart for so long, as she finally showed them just how much the hate comments she had gotten even before their debut had broken her down. She quickly hid herself in the camera director's opened arms as the pain she had tried to hide for so long made her heart tighten.

The effects of so much hate were always hidden by the young idol but now she felt as though she could not bear to handle the intense anxiety alone, the trembling hands, the forced lacks of appetite and the crippling headaches she would blame on reading.

When she finally pulled herself away from the director's hold, she took a deep breath before clenching her fists, holding herself strong to finish her heartfelt confession.

[So much love for Director-nim.]

"Even though things have been hard...thank you for being my anchors all of this time." She continued. "Thank you for giving me your love unconditionally, for turning my future from terrifyingly uncertain to something bright. You've shown me that I'm not alone anymore, that I never will be again. Thank you for staying late with me to practice, for taking care of me even when I wouldn't reach out for help, for being by my side even after everything."

In an attempt to stop her tears, she bit her bottom lip and yet they still dripped down her cheeks, shaking her chest slightly with poorly muffled sobs.

"I love you all...so much." She managed to shout out, wiping her face with her sleeves. "I'll choose you, always. You're my soulmates and I wouldn't have it any other way. I found my strength in you, in your love, and I hope you can find yours in me. Thank you for convincing me to stay and I...I'm so sorry I ever wanted to leave. I'm sorry...and I love you, I'll always love you all. Please continue to take care of me !"

[After carrying such a burden, the maknae finally cries...]

Not long before this, the girl had made the decision to leave the group in order to take away the hate 'fans' were throwing towards the team because of her and to avoid dragging them down. Thinking it would be better to tell her members before announcing it to their manager, she had gathered everyone in the living room and broke the news with a heavy heart. That night of uncertainty turned into one of heartbreaking confessions, tears, apologies, embraces and most importantly into one of bonding. That night she realized that these eight unlikely friends were her anchors against the harsh winds of the world.

Despite her tears, a warm smile lit up on her face as she brought her arms above her head to form a heart, one that was quickly replicated by her group members.

"We'll always take care of you !" Yunho shouted. "Now come back up here before you catch a cold !"

[The night might be cold but their hearts are warm thanks to each other.]

At his words she bowed to the staff before happily running back to her friends, embraced by Jongho's strong arms the moment she stepped foot on the wooden floor.

"We love you Hima." Seonghwa reassured, his hand coming to rub her back gently. "We always will, no amount of hate will change that."

The girl peered up in her member's loosening embrace, looking towards her leader hesitantly in fear that what she had said might have been too much as he had not yet spoken. Instead of finding comforting words like the others had he simply walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, one hand placed on the back of her head to keep her pressed against his shoulder.

No one but them knew just what thoughts were being exchanged in that moment but the youngest teared up once more, her arms wrapping tightly around him, her hands gripping on to the back of his jacket.

"I promise to hold your hand through it all." Hongjoong finally said. "I'll listen to your heart when it hurts, just make me a promise too...stop hiding when you're struggling, yeah ?"

"I promise..."

Without warning, seven other pairs of arms wrapped around the two and laughter began erupting once more, the atmosphere instantly relaxing the moment they were all together.

[The editors were crying...so we couldn't make a proper caption. ㅠㅠ]

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // twenty-one

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: oh- you guys wanted them to be happy and in love in peace?? my bad. anyway, good a time as any to wish you guys a happy valentines day! lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Where are ya takin' those?" Lennox asks you as you're quickly scanning through your piles of books, pulling out one or two at a time and holding onto them.

"I will bring them to Coryo and Sejanus." You smile to yourself, standing up straight as you finish picking out most of your favourites.

"Coryo." Lennox scrunches his nose up. "Why bother? They can't read that many books in a week. Especially when he'll hardly get his hands off you long enough to do literally anything else."

"Oh, Lennox hush. That is not true." You shake your head pointedly, cheeks burning red.

"It is true."

You had kind of explained to Lennox what happened, that Coryo explained, apologized, and that you were wrong about him. Your mother was right, of course, but Lennox still wasn't buying any of it. Although, he wouldn't deny that you seemed happier.

"Ma!" You call out, coming out of your bedroom with the stack of books in your arms. Trying to talk to Lennox about this would never end in him actually listening to you.

"Just out back, honey!"

You follow her voice out onto the back porch. "Ma, do you know if there's a limit of things you can take on the train?"

She looks up at the question, laughing at the stack of books you have steadied under your chin.

"It's not a passenger train, honey. I don't know." She chuckles. "You want to give him all of those? Won't you miss them?"

"Well..." You think about it, placing them down on the ground to rest your arms for a moment. "I don't know when I'll see him again, and books are expensive to post. Besides, I know they'll be in safe hands, and if I want to read them again I can take them from the library."

Your mom smiles sadly at you. "I suppose that's true."

"Yes." You grin, crouching down to pick the books up again carefully. "I shall go drop these off."

"When will you be back?" She asks, just as you're about to walk back inside.

"Uh, I'm uncertain, but I shouldn't be long! We don't have any plans."

"Maybe you should take your brother with you, he can carry those." She suggests and you sigh.

"No, Ma. He's mean." You pout.

"He only wants to keep you safe. Take him with you, please. He'll be driven mad here waiting for you to get back." She insists and you groan, dropping your head back. "I won't ask again, I promise."

"Okay, Ma." You relent, stepping back into the house and letting the door swing shut behind you. "Len! Ma says you're coming with me!"

"So... how do you know where they are staying?" Lennox asks you, half the books in his arms as you practically skip ahead of him.

"Coryo showed me the other day."

"Oh, he did. Of course he did." You can practically see him rolling his eyes behind your back. "Have you ever considered that he could just be using you? I mean-"

"Lennox, that's not a rational thought process. I have nothing that he would want, he already won his prize." You interrupt. "He just came here to spend time with me, we talked about that when I was in the Capitol."

"I can think of something he wants..."

"Lennox!" You turn on your heel, pointing a finger in his face so fast he almost stumbles as he stops. "That is enough. You have so little trust in me!"

"It's not like we haven't been down this road before!" He argues, and you quickly look around as he raises his voice. The path is deserted this time of day.

"And you don't think me capable of learning?"

"Clearly not! Him and Cole are practically the same person!"

"Don't you say that- I didn't like Cole and you know it." You narrow your eyes at him. "Coryo is different. He wouldn't hurt me."

"You do realize that those are like, the famous last words that every teenage girl ever has said and regretted it, right?"

"Do you just not want me to be happy?" You ask bitterly. That wasn't true and you knew it, but you were upset and you knew it would get your point across. He was being cruel.

"The opposite, actually! I just want you to think realistically about fallin' into the open arms of your 'knight in shining armour' who you've literally had nightmares about for weeks on end."

"I am not a child! I am an adult, and I am capable of making my own decisions." You spit. "He's not using me. He loves me, and I love him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll say that until-"

"Lennox you are such a.. boy!" You groan. "If you must know, if you must insist that I am so stupid, no, I have not slept with him. Is that what you needed so desperately to hear?"

"Gross." He mumbles, shaking his head with disgust. "I don't care what you do with your alone time, actually I'd really rather not know! All I'm saying is you need to be more careful."

"I'm not going to fight with you. You can trust my decisions or not." You grumble, turning back around to keep walking. He follows behind you silently, neither of you saying another word the whole walk there.

You knock on the door, taking a step back while you wait for it to open. You can hear your brother breathing behind you and it's driving you up the wall. You would drop off the books and send him home- maybe you would stay for a while, go for a walk, something.

The door creaks open and you smile when you see Sejanus. "Y/N!" He grins, opening the door wider for you to come in. "Coryo! Your girlfriend is here!" You blush at the term as you walk in past him.

You hadn't discussed any kind of title to what you had, the looming ache of him leaving again so soon holding you back from wanting to mention it. You assumed he didn't want to discuss it either, both of you silently agreeing just to enjoy the time you still had together.

"Y/N/N." Coryo grins, eyes lighting up as he enters the room.

"Hi." You smile, ignoring your brother pretending to gag behind you.

"What brings you?" Coryo asks. "I didn't expect to see you today, I was thinking of coming to see you myself."

"Yes, well, I went through my books and brought some over that I would like you to take." You look back over your shoulder as Lennox is placing the large pile of books on the dining table.

Coryo hums as he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. "That's a lot of books." He chuckles.

"You don't have to rush through them, keep them as long as you'd like." You assure him. "I just thought they were some you may enjoy."

"I'm sure I'll love them." He kisses the top of your head. "Thank you."

You turn in his arms to look up at him, ticking your head slightly when you hear Sejanus speak quietly. Clearly, not to either of you. "Hey, I just want to show you something. Come outside with me?" And then the door is shut, and you and Coryo are left alone.

"What's he showing him?" You ask, and Coryo watches through the window as his friend and your brother circle around to the side of the house.

"I am not sure." He answers. Immediately, he's thinking of the note Sejanus had scribbled out for himself. It included your brother's name alongside the dates and times, and those dates were creeping up quickly, the seventeenth being in three days- if he had today's date correct.

"Coryo?"

"Hm?" He looks down at you again. "You were thinkin' for a minute there. What's wrong?"

You were always so concerned. All he had done was take a moment to think, and you seemed genuinely worried. Maybe there was something in his face that showcased his confusion. "Nothing, love." He assures you, but you don't seem inclined to believe it. "Okay, uh, just... Come with me." He grabs your hand, watching out the window to make sure they aren't coming back yet as he leads you to his room.

You step into the small space and smile. He wasn't here for long, but the room already had little touches of him. The bed was made, and there was nothing on the walls but the bedside table had the copy of Romeo and Juliet he had got for you, a folded-up note, and a comb for his hair he had yet to put back in his bag despite him not needing it anymore.

You turn to face him after he shuts the door, smiling. He almost looked normal here, now. Like he was getting used to being here with you, living your life. It certainly wasn't like what he left behind in the Capitol, but to you it was special.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you." Coryo says, serious with a lowered voice. He didn't want anyone to hear it, even though you were still likely alone in the home.

"Okay." You reply, feeling your brow crease as you nod at him. His tone makes you nervous- your heart skips a beat in your chest. For a moment, you feel trapped. Tell him what you need. He won't mind.

"Can you... can you move away from the door, please?" You ask quietly before he has the chance to speak again.

He nods, not wasting a second before passing you and you turn with him, now with the door to your own back. "Is that better? You okay?" He asks and you nod.

"Fine just fine." You smile, trying to be reassuring. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Right, so..." You watch as he runs a hand over his head, still in the habit of pushing back his hair. "I was in Sejanus's room the other day, and I found this note. It had two dates and places on it, and then your brother's name and that was it."

"Oh." That's the only thing you can think of to say. "Well... do you remember the places? Maybe he was just trying to remember Len's name?"

"I don't know, I was hoping you'd know more." Coryo sighs, reaching for the bedside drawer. He had written down what he remembered from the dates and times, because he did want to ask you about it. "But he's been leaving and coming back at odd hours, he won't tell me what he's doing. Is he with Lucy Gray?"

"I don't think so." You frown, shaking your head. "But they have been getting close."

"But that doesn't really feel relevant to the note, or your brother."

"No... It certainly doesn't seem that way."

"Here, so... I wrote it down. Uh... The Hob, August seventeenth at ten pm, and broken fence August eighteenth at four am." He reads off what he remembered enough from the note to write down.

You tilt your head.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"Well, on the seventeenth The Covey is performing at the Hob, so maybe he planned on going to that." You explain. "But broken fence... there's so many of those around here I couldn't tell you. Although, four am is an incredibly odd time to be meeting anyone."

"That's three hours before our train leaves."

"Oh." You shake your head slightly. "That's very weird."

"I know." Coryo sighs. "He won't tell me either, I've asked if he has any plans that night and he said no."

"Well... We should go." You offer. "Tell him that we're going to the meadow that night, and we'll just go after him. See who he's with."

Coryo raises his eyebrows at you. "I didn't take you for the nosy type."

"Well, I'm a big sister at heart and if it possibly involves Lennox I have to know." You argue. "It could be dangerous. He's always had a few friends I didn't love."

"Are you okay to go back there? I can go without you." He offers.

"I'll be fine." You insist. It's more so out of necessity, you have no choice but to be fine. You have to know- you have to make sure your brother and friend are safe.

"Are you sure about this?" Coryo asks, stopping you outside the entrance to the Hob. "If you want to go home I can take you, I just want you to feel safe."

"I know." You give him a small, reassuring smile as you squeeze his hand. "If I need to leave I'll tell you. I promise."

He nods, taking one last look at you to make sure you still seem okay before he pushes the door open and you both head in.

The building is buzzing- as it usually is when The Covey performs. You smile at the music, letting Coryo pull you close to the side wall as he scans the crowded room for his friend.

"Do you see him?" You ask, and he somehow hears you over the music and shakes his head.

You frown, looking around as well. No sign of Sejanus, no sign of Lennox. Lennox isn't even old enough to be here, but he wasn't at home when you left- and it's not exactly hard to sneak in.

"There," Coryo says, nodding in the direction of the opposite side of the room. You follow his eyes, and spot Sejanus talking to someone you recognize. "Who's he with?"

"Spruce." You explain. "His sister is scheduled to be executed tomorrow afternoon." You add, leaning closer so no one else will hear.

You watch as they head toward the back hall, the same one you ran down just a couple of weeks ago. "Should we go after them?" You ask when Coryo doesn't reply and he nods, watching them as he pulls you down the outside wall toward them.

You make it back to the hall without Lucy Gray spotting you, as far as you can tell. Standing outside the door, you hear shouting. You watch Coryo as he clenches his jaw, shaking his head.

"Wait out here." He tells you, dropping your hand.

"No- I, I should come." You shake your head and he grabs your cheeks, lifting your head to look into your eyes.

"I don't know what they're fighting about but it doesn't sound good. Wait out here." He's stern as he gently brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. "Listen to Lucy Gray, just watch the door. Okay, love?"

"Okay." You agree quietly, slightly nodding.

He kisses your forehead before letting you go, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open and disappearing behind it.

You chew your nails as you wait with your ear to the door, trying to decipher who is inside with them. It's hard to tell with all the shouting going on, but you hadn't heard Lennox.

"Y/N." You hear your name, quickly jumping back from the door and turning to face the voice. "What are you doin' here?"

You chew your cheek, trying to avoid Cole's gaze. "Just waitin' for Lucy Gray." You lie, looking down.

"Ah." He hums, nodding slightly as he steps closer to you. "Where's your purebred Capitol attack dog?"

"What are you doing here, Cole?" You ask, ignoring his question.

"We got leave passes for the weekend." He answers. "Hoff said something about 'boosting morale'."

"That's nice." You smile nervously. "Well, I don't want to keep you, so..."

"You aren't." He smirks, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, you know that, right?"

"I know." You say softly.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Cole..." You sigh, looking down again. "We talked about this I just... We're too different. I'm sorry."

"Oh, because you have so much more in common with that prick- right?" He laughs sarcastically. "He's Capitol! He'll never know you like I do. Honestly, I'm offended that you'd choose him over me."

"I'm not choosing him over you." You frown. "I already knew we wouldn't work before I ever met him. This is very, very different. I'm sorry."

"You are? Oh, I'm glad to hear that." He nods and you eye him suspiciously. "Maybe then after he leaves, you'll give me another chance. He's taking the next train, tomorrow morning, right?"

"I can't do that, Cole." You shake your head.

"That's an awful shame." The evil smile on his face doesn't fade. "I'll have no choice but to report your father."

Your heart drops. "My Pa hasn't done anything."

He sucks in through his teeth. "Well, suspicion is enough to charge, and I don't know... I get a bit of an off feeling from him. It's actually my duty to report any suspicions we have, so honestly I've been protecting you, and I'd like to keep doing that, you know?"

You finally picked up on what he was saying, and immediately could taste the bitterness of fear on your tongue, a metallic tang that seemed to linger in the air.

"So? Do we have a date?"

"Sure." You mutter through gritted teeth.

"Sweet, thanks for finally coming to your senses, bug." Cole smiles, patting your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon!" He calls back as he walks away.

You don't even care what's going on inside, you can't be alone in this dark hallway anymore.

You pull the door open and rush in, but you're quickly stopped by Coryo's arm as he takes a few steps back, pushing you behind him. "What- what's-"

"She can't be in here!" Spruce spits at Coryo as you look past him, gasping at the sight of several guns on the table and the one in his arms.

"Listen, she's not involved." Sejanus promises.

"Her brother is gonna help us, it's cool. She won't tell." You look at Billy Taupe when he speaks, eyes wide.

"No- this is crazy." Mayfair shakes her head. "She's not coming with us. We're not bringing her or Lucy Gray. I'm leaving."

"No, they aren't coming. I just said I'd ask. Now she knows, so she probably should." Billy Taupe replies and your eyes flick between the couple. You had no idea what was going on, where he wanted you to go, and what this had to do with Sejanus or your brother.

"No! My daddy will have you all strung up for this." She throws her hands up and starts to walk toward the back door. Your heart is pounding in your chest as Coryo reaches for one of the guns.

"Don't!" You cry out, forcing yourself in front of him just as he aims the gun at her. At you.

"Y/N, you gotta move right now." He says quickly, and you hear her footsteps stop behind you.

You can only look at his eyes as they flit between anger, instinct, and fear.

"Coryo." You say, voice cracking and it's only then that you feel the tears dampening your cheeks.

The barrel of the gun is under an inch from your chest, and you can see his hands shaking as he holds the heavy weapon in his hands. He won't shoot you- he won't.

The world around you seems to blur as your focus narrows on the overwhelming sense of fear gripping you tightly. Right now, if someone asked where you were, you wouldn't know. You just as easily could have been standing in the arena. 

He doesn't dare move as he stares at you, eyes wide. He doesn't want to hurt you, but that's why he has to do this. He can't let whoever that girl was have you killed. Still, you stand in front of him. Shaking, but not moving. This was the girl he knew from the games who offered a rose to Coral who in the moments before was threatening her. The girl who so thoroughly hated the idea of bringing harm to others that her own mind blocked it out completely and replaced the story with something else. This was the girl who was willing to give up her life just to be able to give the other tributes an honourable burial that she knew they wouldn't otherwise receive. 

The girl who saw him kill another boy and despite all of that, still had it in her heart to forgive him.

You don't even hear Mayfair laugh and begin to walk away again, you only hear the gunshot that follows. You jump, immediately looking down to assess the damage. Coryo wasn't pointing the gun at you anymore, he had dropped his arms in defeat- and you had mistaken the loud noise for an impact you were expecting.

He didn't shoot you.

"What did you do?" You turn as Billy Taupe screams, eyes widening as you see Mayfair bleeding out on the floor.

"Oh god- oh god..." You mumble, stepping back until you bump into Coryo. He drops the gun back onto the table, pulling you into his arms.

"Don't look, don't look..." He tells you, turning you and pressing your head to his chest so you can't see anymore even if you wanted to.

You can't even make out what Spruce and Billy Taupe are yelling at each other over the sound of your blood pumping through your veins. Until the second gunshot.

You must be sobbing now, clinging onto the front of Coryo's shirt so tight your knuckles are burning. "You're okay, it's okay." He tells you. You don't know what's going on- you don't want to.

Coryo stares between Spruce and the body of Billy Taupe now slumped down next to Mayfair. He needs to get you out of here, now, but he doesn't know how. This has to be handled first.

He's letting you go only to grab your cheeks and get you to look at him. "Go back outside, you have to go back outside, I will handle this."

You can't even speak- can't even move. You try and shake your head. You couldn't leave him, not right now. You feel like you'd die the moment he ceased touching you.

The door slides open again, followed by an angry voice you know too well. "What the fuck?" Cole must have been watching you. He must have heard.

"No..." You cry, shaking your head. If Cole saw this you were absolutely all screwed.

"What the fuck did you do?" Cole shouts again. "Nobody fucking move! You're all-"

Another gunshot. Silence.

"Oh no, no, no..." You try and look behind Coryo but he doesn't let you, holding your head firmly into his chest again.

"It's okay. Don't look." He says again, staring at Sejanus who looks like he's panicking just as much as you are now.

"Why'd you tell them where we were? Now you've gone and screwed us all over! I just shot a peacekeeper!"

"He didn't tell anyone." Coryo defends him. "We followed him, Cole followed us."

"Fuck." Spruce sighs, throwing the gun onto the pile of others still laid across the table. "We gotta bump this up. We have to get Lil now, go tell Lennox to get the stuff and hide it for us like we said."

"Get rid of the guns and pretend this never happened."Coryo hisses. "And leave the kid out of this. It's too late for whatever plan you had now- we don't know where he is."

You can't even hear a single thing going on anymore. You're actually sure you might faint.

When you go from shaking to completely still in Coryo's arms, he knows you have. "Shit..." He mumbles, trying to steady you as your knees give out. He quickly readjusts so he can lift you with an arm under your knees and the other under your back.

"I gotta get her out of here and you have to move quick. Get rid of the guns. Now." He instructs, and surprisingly, Spruce listens. He throws the weapons into a bag and steps over the two bodies by the door before leaving.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Sejanus cries, gripping onto his hair and breathing heavily. "No one was supposed to get hurt!"

"Sejanus, for once just shut up!" He grabs his attention from where his friend is staring at the dead couple, clearly losing his mind. Coryo doesn't have time for this- an unconscious girl in his arms and his friend looking like he's about to be in the same state in a matter of moments.

"It's all my fault..."

"All of this is your fault!" Coryo agrees, looking around at the mess of the room. "It's only gonna get worse if you don't pull yourself together."

"Oh, god..."

"If you breathe a word now, all three of us are finished. Just like in the arena. We came here to see her. If we go down, she goes with us." He holds you tighter to his chest as your hair falls over the curve of his arm, your head limp against his skin. "So now we have to go back to the house, gather all our shit, and act like nothing is wrong. We have to board the train tomorrow like nothing is wrong. Do you understand?"

"I- I don't know." Sejanus sniffs.

"Hey." Coryo says, taking a few steps closer. "Look at me. You have to pull it together. I know you wanted to go with them but now they aren't going. We've got to stick together. You won't get in trouble. I won't let anything happen to you, but you have to listen to me." It was obvious that it didn't matter that none of you pulled the trigger- being in the room was enough; especially when a peacekeeper had been murdered. If you were caught, you'd all be executed. "We're brothers, yeah? Brothers. Whatever you've done, I swear I will keep you safe."

"Brothers. Yeah." Sejanus mutters, still obviously in shock.

"Those guns were the only loose ends besides the four of us, so we're gonna be okay as long as we leave tomorrow." He breathes. "Okay? Not a word."

"O-Okay." Sejanus nods slightly, trying to keep his focus on the boy in front of him rather than their unconscious friend in his arms.

Coryo tried to give him a reassuring smile, but inside he was panicking too. They could escape it all on the train tomorrow, but now came the problem of what to do with you.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Today was hard. It was really scary, and the future feels uncertain. I had a hard talk with my sister, who had been planning to try for a baby with her husband this year, and who has decided to wait even though she's ready and excited to be a mom because even a wanted pregnancy is too risky right now. Our youngest sister was just old enough to vote for the first time in this election, and is terrified of the world she's coming into as a young Black Jewish woman. I'm scared for them, and for me, and for all of us who are in danger right now. It's scary to know that, no matter how hard today was, we're probably going to be in a much worse place as a nation a year from now. Things are going to get much worse.

But you know what else?

Today, my sister and I still laughed a lot.

When I remember the absolute fear at knowing that I need to get my passport with a correct gender marker before January, I'll also remember the people who helped me when I asked for help.

Both of the classes I taught today (I'm a phd student and mostly teach incoming Freshmen) became "what happens now?" conversations. There was a lot of sadness today, but I was also very impressed by how many of my students essentially told me they're not willing to go down without a fight. Lots of hope, too.

I was able to work on the next chapter of my fic, even though I didn't really feel like it, and making art still made me feel better. I made plans with friends who have been too busy for a while. I took my dog on a long walk, and he was still happy and soft when I petted him and still needs me around.

It feels somehow like this day has lasted forever. And I'm scared for the future. I can't help but see the world differently today, just knowing how many people voted for this, who either were in favor of or just didn't care about the rampant racism and hatred. But I'm still here, and so are you, and this is going to be fucking hard but it won't all be hard. Take your joy where you can, and do it out of spite if you have to, but do it. Stay alive to see the other side of this, yes, but also don't let it keep you from living.

[unofficial-underfell]

Hey guys, I've been thinking about making this post for a long time and I think its finally time I do so. After realizing that some of my last work was done over a year ago, I don't think I can really ignore it anymore. While I haven't quite thrown in the towel on this quite yet, it's pretty evident to me and I'm sure to everyone who still follows this blog that my fervor for the project has drastically decreased. And has been kind of dead for a while. The comic has not been a priority to me, or posting online much at all actually. I did some soul searching and found that I'd started relying on outside approval for my art instead of doing art for the sake of wanting to tell a story and express myself throughout my work. I have limited energy and depression and sometimes it feels like i get such little progress done even though it takes all of my energy. While I'm trying to go to the gym more and build better habits my energy levels and mood still have a lot to be desired, and I'd rather use the limited energy I have to work on something I'm more passionate about.

I've been trying to grow my skills and absorb more stories and I've moved around a lot and started to listen to what I really felt, and I found that a lot of the art I want to focus on deals with heavier and more mature topics. I do love this story, and all of the characters and I feel like I could make a really clever subversion of what is expected from an Underfell comic. But I feel like in these uncertain times with the world and with all of the stuff going on right now, I'd like to use my energy to work on stories that hit closer to the things that I feel are important. So that's why I've not been posting much.

I'm working on a book, and I've actually got quite a lot of progress done on it, but because of all the horror stories online about people stealing author's original works, I'm kind of holding off on publishing any chapters before I can copyright the first draft of the novel. So my online activity will still be pretty scarce for a bit, though I'll still post occasionally on my @cosmicpixel01 account. I'll try better to not be so radio silent though lol. Even if that means I'll post something boring about my dog or books I'm reading just so everyone knows I'm still alive.

I don't want to call it quits on the story. But I also feel like you guys have been kept waiting to see what happens for a really long time, and that makes me feel so guilty. I will try to finish up the pages I have in the works, and I'm probably going to switch to a different format that is some drawings, some writing to finish the story. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to finish it the way I intended for you guys, even with all of the support and kind words and even the fanart that I've kept in a folder on my desktop. I am letting a lot of you down, but I feel like the radio silence is probably more irresponsible than just going out and saying something. And I'm sorry I've kept you all waiting for a not-so-happy update on the blog.

I hope that some of you will continue to follow me for some of my other exploits and see whatever other things I have going on, but I understand that you all followed me for Undertale so I don't want you to feel any sort of guilt if you decide not to. I'm just happy you all supported me for so long.

I'll try to work on this blog again soon, and if anyone has any questions, my asks are open, though I'll probably keep the asks private. Until then I hope everyone stays safe out there. And from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

-Avery

[remidyal]

Outstanding antagonists after Junior Year

This post is as much for myself for fanfic purposes as it is for any speculation regarding a Senior Year that may never happen and even if it does would be I think at an absolute minimum three years and more likely 4-5 down the road, but I wanted to round up the known potential antagonists remaining out in the world, roughly ranked in order of known hostility:

Chungledown Bim. Certainly the MOST hostile of opponents, we know he's not dead post-Boy's Night (whenever Boy's Night is supposed to fit into the Quangle) because he's on Fabian's nemesis alert.

Arianwen Abernant. Evidently she has recovered her magic, probably while Cassandra was corrupted into a more Nightmare King-ish state. She was pretty pissed at Aelwyn and Adaine the last time we saw her over the whole death of Angwyn thing; I somehow don't think being chased around Sylvaire by the vand will have improved her mood.

Bobby Dawn. The full extent of his involvement in the Junior Year plot is uncertain, but he sure as hell wasn't helping things. Also some real potential hate between him and the party over the Sandra Lynn thing; while Fig might be gone in a Senior Year I'm going to ignore that for these rankings and in any case Sandra Lynn still lives with Kristen and Adaine regardless, so I think that conflict would be born out. I also think there's a strong case for a clash of pantheons style story going on in the background, and Bobby here would be front and center on the Sol-Helio-maybe Galicaea side.

Kalina. I don't necessarily think Kalina actually IS a traitor to Cassandra the way that Kristen thinks and Ankarna thinks; I almost believe that her turning up at the end of Junior Year was a reaction to them deciding to hunt her, in fact. That being said, while I think Kalina is fully team Cassandra, I also think (and even understand!) that she is most definitely NOT team Kristen, who did let Cassandra kind-of-die and now is splitting her attention. So what's Kalina's play now? I think she's going to try to push for Bobby Dawn to add Cassandra back to the Sol-Helio-Galicaea pantheon, which would be to her a much more stable foundation to keep Cassandra alive on than Kristen.

The Automatons that are going to be hunting Fig. Yes, these are self-evidently a way to excuse that Fig won't be around to help out if there's a senior year and Emily chooses to not play Fig. They're also kind of hilarious, especially since they open up all kinds of questions like 'wait did Sandra Lynn spend her first year of adventuring fighting off killer statues of Arthur Aguefort?' They'd be higher except they're only hostile to 1/6th of the Bad Kids.

Gertie Bladeshield. Also only hostile to 1/6th of the Bad Kids at present, though Cassandra knows if any of them speak up in Kristen's defense she'll probably swear a vow of emnity to them too. Could probably be made up with via a sincere apology, or at least by setting her up with someone.

The Court of Stars and Princess Nara. Now we're into the dubiously hostile territory, because this might not lead to actual conflict, but if there IS a clash of pantheons between the Sol one and the Ankarna-Cass one then the most obvious fight other than Cassandra is over where Galicaea ends up. The members of the Court of Stars we met this season seemed much more, um, I'll use the word chilled out than Angwyn and Kir of last year, but it still feels like a mercurial thing.

Arthur Aguefort. I've been saying for a very long time that the only boss fight that makes sense for a Senior Year IS to have to fight Arthur Aguefort himself; it doesn't even necessarily have to be a 'he's evil' sort of thing, but could just be a 'you're the best party we've had in centuries and I wanna throw down'. He dropped some hints at it in the finale, of course, too!

[its-actually-minicika]

Dragon Sickness

Part 2;

Pairing: Bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader;

Warnings: No usage of Y/N, bookcanon Greens, potential spoilers for Fire&Blood (but not really), dubious consent, allusions to sex, to male masturbation and oral from Aemond (female receiving - he just wants to tickle your pickle with his fingers and mouth but yk), slight angst, minor and major character death, vague descriptions of death by asphyxiation;

For the sake of keeping characters as close to canon as I can, the eye that Aemond lost was his right, not his left!

Word Count: 7k+;

Author's Note: Repost because yeah...

Reblogs would be really appreciated, since I believe I was shadowbanned :") ♡

Sorry for taking so long with getting this next part out ♡ I wanted to make sure it's perfect (or as close to perfect as I can get it), because the last thing I desire is to post something I'm not proud of/I wouldn't personally read :")

This gif was made by the love of my life and the moon to my sun - @aemondx here on Tumbr ♡ if you aren't already following her, definitely follow her right now now. I'll wait. The story will wait. She is absolutely amazing, and the sweetest person ever.

I also dedicate this chapter to my literal soulmate @diamantesprincess , who beta-read this whole shit-storm for me, and supported my insane antics ♡

Young girls dream about their wedding day. And women prepare themselves for the humiliation bestowed upon them by the raptures of the night.

Her cheeks flushed with the expectancy that was thrown before her – the avid sting that prickled her skin, flooded her veins and broke her soul. She could feel her smooth-green gown stick to her contorted form. The horrid fires of lashing out already licking at the corners of her downturned mouth.

The Velaryon thus swallowed thickly, whilst flickering her eyes by nigh to each corner of the squaring table. She needn’t glance into the silver plating to ensure what she had known, simply owed to the salacious heat that downed her heart in poisoned terror. How vexing it had been for her to hear the former Queen about – darting to her wedding night, hinting at her lack of purity. How terribly uncertain she’d felt, when Aemond all but abandoned her on that rueful and exerting night.

She’d searched feverishly for his company, trying to converse with him, to allude him to take interest, to inspire him to like her. But her attempts were answered with indifference, with clumsy lines of conversations, which never led her far in musings.

“– Even so, I trust that you understand your duty.”

She couldn’t have been quiet for long. For she felt how her mouth lulled opened, if only to blurt out a passive admission to Alicent’s extended words. Still she felt the decades pass, turning her old, and mean, and cold, as an ample flood of pain engulfed her sparring and incisive heart. The Queen Dowager sighed, either by lack of blitheness or by wry exhaustion, and merely shook her head at the sight of the conflicted bastard.

She supposed she should be grateful – for a private bedding brought across no prying eyes upon her form, upon her skin and womanhood; upon the shame she would soon feel, to spread her legs for the Qybor who slayed her kin. But a private bedding meant she'd have to be alone with him. A private bedding was unsafe, for it meant her maiden blood wouldn't have to be the one staining their rivetting sheets. And Aemond had killed men before, his flesh and blood, innocent spawn – so was there anything that would ensure he wouldn't cut her very throat?

A silent tear obscured her view, and one of Helaena’s beetles boldly flew nearby her plate.

Satin green and oryx white, silky blue and striking violet.

To be born a female was a wright cursed account.

Upon her birth, she belonged to her father. And when he died, she fitted Daemon. She suited to her brother, Jace, to the whims of the New Seven, and very soon to those of Aemond.

When she was young, her Septa was the one to tell her the story of her feeble birth – how she was good and quaint and quiet, how she had not ensued hard labour. How her mother cried when she saw her small and portly face. And how she sighed with half restraint at the notion of her naked sex.

To be born the cursed sex stripped one of their whole autonomy.

Benevolence was to be found within the weakness of a poor female.

‘The girls are easier than the boys,’ The woman nodded as she spoke, ‘They're less rowdy and quick to anger. Easier to marry, too.’

To be born a female meant a deconstructive marriage. Simply something that must happen, not a matter of debate.

To be born a female meant fantasizing about that marriage. Salaciously filling your head with hopeful dreams of charming knights, or handsome princes and comely lords.

To be born a female was underestimated work. Work put up by sons and fathers, whose sole purpose of providing to the girl they had to care for was to find her a good husband.

A future to be predecided, set in stone and judged throughout – all in valour of a missing cock, and a lack of tiny stones.

When Rhaenyra married Daemon, she was happy for her loving mother.

‘I want to be just as beautiful on my wedding day!’ Her voice chirped through the halls of Dragonstone, whilst rotating about the room, chased by an ongoing Jace, ‘We’ll have a pigeon cake the size of a young hatchling, and a venue bigger than that made of the smallfolk of King’s Landing!’

‘Maybe one that smells better, though,’ Jace snickered inside her ear, earning a brisk tickle from his younger sister, ‘But you’re right, my darling sister, it’s better to stay realistic!’

A loud fit of giggles erupted from the waiting children. Rhaenyra only glanced at Daemon, who in turn shook his head, bemused by her swallowing visions.

‘Whatever prompts you to even believe your mother and I will allow such a thing?’ The Rogue Prince graced her with a trumping smirk, as the girl’s face fell to a slouch.

‘I’ll have to get married one day!’ She rebutted her stepfather, ‘With a strong knight in shining armour, or a chivalrous Lord from an important House!’

‘I would be very careful with what I want,’ He mimicked a serious and grieving tone, ‘So far you could only marry Tyland Lannister or Kermit Tully!’

‘There will be yet some time before that happens, sweet girl.’ Rhaenyra grinned at her daughter’s eagerness, pushing down the rotten feeling that gnawed beneath her bludgeon gown. She placed her hand atop her cheek and gingerly grazed the youth’s plumpness with a soft, motherly touch. ‘A couple of years from now on, at best!’ She hummed into her tender caress and opened her mouth to speak again, 'till Jacaerys’ mellow voice cut the base of her new words.

Her eyes widened to the size of two round plates, and the young Velaryon merely scrunched her nose up in dissatisfaction. ‘Kermit wouldn’t be that bad…’ She tried to reason with herself, ‘And his sister, Celia, is very nice! We would get along quite well.’

‘Of course, of course –’ Jace nodded in understanding, before throwing Luke a mischievous look, ‘Or you could always marry Aemond – he’d be quite a match, you know!”

Silence ensued for a while, until all three children broke down in their hysteric fits of laughter.

‘Oh, Gods be good…!’ She murmured lowly, shock and aversion evident on her once impatient face.

She’d found herself someone who loved her, someone whom she could amply trust. A man that’d be reliant for her, in her times of greatest fraught.

When the War of Ravens first ensued, it was he and her small brothers who went to deliver envoys. When Luke died, it was he who mended and arranged the curdling scheme of Blood and Cheese. And when Aemond took a hold of Harrenhal, cruelly burning at their allies’ lands… it was he who gave his life in an attempt to free their folk.

“Gods be good…!” Her voice strained through the musings of her handmaiden, so preoccupied with lacing up her constricting and excessive corset. “Could you go in any tighter?” Her snapping question deterred the young girl to remove her calloused hands from the fine silks that engulfed her. All of the other women who tended to her hair and eyes took a backwards convoluted step and, as if whipped across the face and wholly burnt by dragon fire, they froze up in minute poses – all of them gripping their hands, and looking down in taught submission.

Breathless and submerged in bashness, her reddened lips pressed to a line, as her gaze followed their in suit, falling on the stone below her.

“I’m sorry,” She began with a taut pitch, while expelling one of her brisk and tantalising breaths, “I didn’t mean to shout at you. That was below any level of discretion.”

"W-Would you like us to continue, Your Grace?" One of the older-looking wenches dared to ask the fair Velaryon.

No, she ached to bring herself to say, I'd stay like this, still half-undressed. Unpresentable for him to take.

"Of course," Her meek voice echoed in reply, "You must make haste to get me ready. The wedding is in but an hour."

Tens of dozen of pairs of hands flooded her every sensation with their ceaseless and insistent prodding. The softest of the cluster played with the slicked ends of her charcoal hair, adorning it with a myriad of pins and jewels, grazing her scalp with heavy and relenting hairstyles. Now there was prudence in her tying corset – as if she were a rabid beast who’d sink her claws into their necks, if only she’d feel indisposed by their way of picked-up working.

For the first time since her ladies swarmed into her darkened chamber, the girl’s leer settled on the gown before her. She took in a quick breath through the margins of her teeth, whilst feeling her stomach wail and churn with an unkept overzeal.

Her dress was of a deep set black, which seemed more fitting for a funeral than for a joyous feast precarred soon after by a most imposing wedding. Yet upon a closer look, the brims which laced its puffy bottoms smiled to her in rueful red.

Surprise etched upon her face, and the coy women must have noticed, for they all stopped forthwith again. She brought a hand to the light fabric, and grazed it slowly with her fingers.

She almost hummed in chasmal worry, before fixating her eyes away.

“Apologies, but who told you to bring this dress?” Her voice reverberated with a faint but levelled question, and a retort came back her way.

“The Prince Aemond, Your Grace,” What she assumed was a slight seamstress replied for the whole gathering, “He requested that his vest should also bear your House’s symbols.”

Surprise merged with upheld amusement, until her judgement simmered down to a least lenient of views – since the Blacks were there no more, what point was there for an exorbant gown with any shades of ghastly Green?

No matter his good-hearted message, Aemond hadn’t done it for her. Just like Alicent hadn’t proposed a marriage with her son for her clemented and invested sake.

There was no more point for her to wear his sickly green. There was no reason for the usurpers to display their endless rows of utter power.

Her family was dead. All she knew had gone with them – swallowed wholly by the sea, or by Sunfyre, by Vhagar.

“I see,” Her vocal cords strained with her roughened and perturbed reply, “It’s very beautiful,” She whispered not a heartbeat later, as she turned to the appraised seamstress, “Thank you. You must have worked very hard.”

As everyone resumed their tasks, a trailing truth pierced through her heart – she now had no family left to lead her to the Greater Sept.

His collar fell too tight on him.

He noticed late, as she approached him.

He swallowed thickly once before her, as his burnt brother gripped her hand.

Her softened smile lit up her face, though the disgust within her eyes unveiled her sickly mild facade. A rattled thought surged through his chest, mending with akin distraught. He knew full well she didn’t love him, but at the least, he’d have to try. The subtlety of her rejection stabbed right through his nervous gut, but still the Prince looked down upon her, gracing her with a half-smile.

The ease with which she then returned it relieved the throbbing underneath his leather patch, and as she mouthed him her timid greeting, the man bowed deeply in reply.

“You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection.” The Septon’s voice instructed deeply, snapping both out of their trance.

His calloused fingers unclasped the belts from his broad and heaving shoulders – the cape fell heavily into his hands, yet Aemond still approached his Lady, and placed the Targaryen embroidered mantle atop her tense and fragile shoulders.

Brown eyes clashed with an unnerving lilac – both bride and groom sucked in a breath, and yet refused to look away.

The silence of the Sept was deadly, and as Aemond closed his eye, allowing his relentless thoughts to slip into a hurried prayer, he swore that every witness to their union would hear the keen beats of his heart.

The High Septon clasped his wrinkled hands together, drawing a faint and muffled noise which reverberated through the clearing – signalling to the lost children to place their hands into the other’s.

His Lady was the first to reach him. Shyly she grazed his palm with the smooth padding of her index finger, flattering an anxious probe which distilled his wilted heart, and brought heat into his cheeks.

Her small diversion urged him to press back into her – with a doubting and reserved caress made with his thicker middle finger.

The man bit into his inner cheek, as he aligned his palm to hers, and waited patiently for the Septon to bind their hands with the white linen.

“In sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity.”

Her thumb gently caressed his own in an attempt to soothe his breaths. Though her smile had broadened yet, her eyebrows twisted to a brazen furrow. The old man hummed with unturned patience, and he nodded at their leisured and unhurried movements.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

His chest tightened with unruly pride, as her cheeks flushed with a deep colour, which grew to match the lacings of her fitted cobbler – both took a moment to compose themselves, before Aemond’s voice filled the room with the silk-smooth baritone of his levelled and protruding tone.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” His lone orb swirled with both uncertainty and desire, as her own voice ushered him suit, “Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

Her chest heaved with a weighty exhale, and her pushed bosom shifted in her dainty dress. Abashed by his sexual intrusion, Aemond focused his left eye on the shape of her inviting lips.

Though they said the words in unison, only her better half beset his ears, “I am his, and he is mine.”

“From this day, until the end of my days,” The Targaryen hushed in return.

Thousand of cheers erupted in the Great Sept, and Aegon even whistled lowly, but nought of the crowd’s boastful words engrained themselves into his mind.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

His mouth pressed hungrily against her own, with a force and desperation that dispersed her every hope for a chaste, intimate peck. The shape of his lips moulded against her with an ease that left her wanting – wanting for it to end, for him to stop, for him to keep going.

His scent invaded her diluted senses, and flashes of her brothers’ faces danced across her hazy view. And just as Aemond was about to deepen and take his uncouth ministrations further, the greying Septon interjected with a subtle but alluding cough.

Despite the fact that he refused to speak to her since the incursive night of their engagement, the palpable need and excitement that seemingly had gathered in him burst for all high lords and petty maidens to see. Coveting whispers reached the girl’s reddened ears – each muttered truth more beguiling than the last.

‘A Kinslayer and a bastard… what an ill match for the grandeur of the Great Sept.’

With her mouth slightly agape and her breath still somewhat staggered, the former Velaryon avoided his stare, with an adamant and willful steer.

Her own eyes began to water. And the aching sadness that curled into her vrying soul muted out any reminder of the crowd’s elated boasts.

What had happened was now irreversible; and the Greens would host a banquet in honour of the newlyweds. Goblets would drown her violent sorrows, food would fill them like fattened-up pigs for cutting.

Aemond would breach her with his cock if he felt disposed to do it. Then he might smother her face, or cut her throat with the same dagger that he used on her late brother.

For why else would he deny a prim and proper bedding ceremony?

Though her eyes still looked at him, and a smile still spurred her lips, the girl swallowed down a prayer.

Perhaps he had grown to like her. She’d been good to him in those past weeks.

The High Septon yelled over the cheering crowd, cutting down each thought that breached through her weary and misguided mind.

“Let it be known that they are now one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder!”

Then cursed be she, in the light of the Seven.

The dizzying nature of the fifth waltz of the night left everyone in the Great Hall drained and panting – fully taken by the mistifying anticipation caused by the encapsulating ardour of Prince Aemond’s wedding reception. Roaring applauses erupted from the few women seated at the high tables – Aegon’s eyes followed the wanton skirts of the lowborn maidens, and even Helaena disregarded her fattened caterpillar to grace the crowd with her absent-minded stare.

At the centre of the King’s table stood the Court’s styled “star-crossed lovers”, each seemingly preoccupied with avoiding any further dancing at any and all occuring costs.

The girl’s fingers traced over the rim of the wine goblet, glancing from time to time at her newly acquired husband, who seemed hammered in his seat and not at all wanting for chatter. The dim lighting of the candled room sprawled its shadows all across his tired features, which loomed all the more sharp and perusing with each notion of a passing hour. His lack of joyful disposition was clear and evident for all to see – for even his contented mother had chastised him under her breath.

Alas, any notion of stability had at large been long repressed, and not even her able chirping managed to pry at her son’s attention.

As her eyes trailed lower yet, over the arch of his broad chest, and the poignant veins of his clenched fist, the Targaryen gasped at the obvious arousal restrained in his black leather pants. Her face turned promptly to the side, before anyone’s conviction should follow her indiscreet trail.

Another smile graced her red lips, as a very drunkened Lord tripped across her narrow view. He approached her with bemusing boldness, borne out of believed renown, and introduced himself as Quince Webber: a lower lord within the Reach, ‘right across the Arbour seat’. His puffy face was basked in red, an indication of his mind’s plied state – and as he blabbered on his woven lapses on what wedded life should be, the Lady bowed her head with grace, thus managing to stop his spiel.

He slurred over his predicted wordings in a heavy and relentless breath, but still managed to congratulate the twain for their well-thought-out alliance.

“Thank you, my Lord, I am indeed very lucky.” Her cheeks hurt from all the smiling, but still she forced herself to laugh, “Aemond has been very kind to me.” She turned to face his stare, abashed, and allowed her hand to touch him. The charcoal leather of his broidered vest burnt her at the faintest touch, and the girl had to stifle a gasp at the arid heat which charred her palm.

“He has, he has!” The lord of Coldmoat agreed well-pleased. A wolfish grin spread across his droopy face, pulling both his plump cheeks higher. An impish laugh beleft his lips, as he took a swing of liquor from a nearby empty glass.

The corner of her smiling eye darted back to that of Aemond, who merely glanced through the drunk lord with a horriedly vexated look.

“Although,” He teased them with a slurred hic, “I can’t say he’ll be nice to you when the bedding ceremony will ensue!”

Wholeheartedly amused at his inappropriate and shrivelled joke, the old man began to laugh, much to Aemond’s disarray.

His fists came into contact with the sprawled-out wooden table, shaking every cutlery which remained scattered across it. The lively whispering of the Great Hall ceased with his vicious display, and even his contented brother jerked his shoulders in dismay.

“Aemond,” Alicent spat out his name, as her face turned cold and wary. “Perhaps it’s time you two retire.”

A restless snarl etched from his throat, and he looked ready to pounce – were it not for the soft hand that touched him, and the sanity utter of her voice, which managed to somewhat reground him, and contort poor Webber’s choice.

But as cruel fate would weave and have it, another end would spend their night.

“Aemond,” His Lady tried to coax him in, “Let’s listen to your mother… please?” Her fevered eyes adamantly searched for his, until a strange yearning and passion registered on his reluctant face. His hand gripped hers in pure devotion, and his large thumb ran over her flaring knuckles, as she'd done so many times before for him.

The lord’s lost face painted over with uncouth excitement, and he turned his back around, almost hitting Daeron’s face.

“It’s time for the bedding ceremony!” He announced the crowd quite loudly, and tens of voices of plastered men rose with every passing second. Some of them swarmed close to the couple, some tried to pick the girl from her leering resting place. Most barely launched up their feet, struggling to uphold their balance.

“There will be no bedding ceremony tonight.” Aemond’s dark and frigid voice thundered through the cluttered hall. Women sighed in great relief, while the men and boys began to bicker.

“It’s tradition!”

“I’ve been told specifically that it would take place.”

“Such stupidity!”

“I bet Renly six gold dragons that –”

“The King long announced there would be none.” Otto’s otherwise calm voice resounded with a harshened tone.

“Has he now?” A slurring lord took three wide steps in the direction of the pressured lady. Her whole face morphed into preleened discomfort, as she placed both her hands upfront. “Oh, don’t you even think about it…!” She warned him with a throaty hiss, but before his hand could graze her, Aemond grabbed his arching fists.

When his nervous gaze settled on his face, he smiled.

The lord clawed at his darkened neck, for Aemond forced him in a kneeling stance, and wrapped his hands around his throat. The timber in his chilling voice rained affront with his obduring malice, sending a shiver down the bent spines of the mere on-watchers, “You wish to gaze upon my wife tonight, Lord Ashford?” The callous ends of his slim digits dug into his purple skin, “You want to see her naked form, and compare her dripping sex to your own wife’s loosened cunny?”

The older man opened his mouth – but the pressure on his wielded neck impedimented his speaking manner and, much like a fish that’d been hoisted out of water, he could barely form a word.

“N…No-n-no – I’m s-s-”

“You’re sorry?” His eyebrows rose in feigned surprise. His wails of anguish pierced his heart – and yet his grip didn't uncurl. “You’re sorry now, are you?”

“Aemond, that is enough!” Alicent’s chastising shouts failed to break his unsound trance. Among the mistifying flock of ladies, the Velaryon stood high, but frozen. Her parlous specks of deep brown eyes bore into the shocking scene, as her own transfigured hand prodded at her covered neck.

"You've heard, perhaps, what happened with little Luke Strong, the bastard.” Her own eyes widened at his cruel retorts, and her deft fist grabbed at her skirts. Despite it being aimed to scare the stupid and unbashful lord, Aemond’s dicey did nought else but expose her to the whole crowd whole.

The heated blade of loss and ire impaled her through her aching chest, cutting both her breath and temper and deterring her to simply shake.

“– I'll gouge your eyes out and present them as a wedding gift to my wife."

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon.

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn.

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

“I-I’m b– begging you–”

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon –

“Then beg. Beg my wife for her forgiveness.”

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn –

“My L– My Lady, p-please…!”

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

Mother, mother, mother, mother –

“Please, Aemond, stop! Just stop!” Her own voice screeched into the balling clearing, as the sound of breaking bones and the smell of copper blood menged right through her very veins. “Stop. It’s enough. It’s alright. I’m alright. Please–”

Her panicked breathing flooded her ears. Her lack of presence drowned her in.

Her husband threw her an affrighted look, as he instantly let go of the man’s entwisted neck.

He crawled closer to his own wife’s feet. His piqued-up breathing staggered for a brief momentum.

For two or three seconds they waited.

And then quietness enwrapped the Realm.

Her honeyed voice had reached his ears.

"We're man and wife now, you and I.” She began with a faint murmur, and a small smile on her lips, “We must start talking to each other. Eventually, I mean."

She spoke to him in utter earnest, despite her voice’s nervous edge.

Alas he must not have replied to her, for her body shifted in her narrow seat, ducking away from him in recluded and uptight tension. “I’d like there to be no secrets between us – I’d like for us to tell each other whatever happens to be on our mind.”

The alluring scent of her dark hair, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders…

His breathing turned close to erratic, as he morphed his hands to fists. But two waltzes he had danced with her, before he felt his breeches tighten, bringing forth his quaint undoing.

He would have stayed in bitter silence, focused on the passing hours – were it not for the unlucky words that the brittle lord had uttered.

Oh, and how she looked into his eye; full of shock and brittle terror.

She must have been scared of him. For she was shaking like a leaf.

The walk to their marital chamber loomed with ever-pressing silence.

If only he could read her thoughts – then he might just mend his error.

“I rather liked the pigeon pie.” Her voice came out as weak and gruff, “Though it was far too big for those at present.”

When his answer wouldn’t beckon, the Lady turned and closed her eyes. She snapped her head in his direction, faltering her present smile. “I think that what you did was very chivalrous and brave, my Prince.”

The corner of his left eye widened, as her words registered in. The margins of her flimsy skirts kissed the ground atop her form – the swish and flicker of the candles remained the only source of noise.

The corners of his mouth bent slightly, at her ludicrous but fair assertion. Whether he had meant to thank her, or kiss her on that very spot, the Prince failed to puzzle out. Though his step halted in place, and his face turned briskly to her.

“Aemond,” He sighed, reluctant, whilst awaiting for her change of heart, “You said it yourself, we’re man and wife. You should start calling me Aemond.”

Her daring eyes looked up right through him, dissolving to a kindred stare. “Then you should also use my name… Aemond.” She uttered with a playful tone, testing his name upon her lips. “Though I… much prefer it when you call me ‘wife’.”

His reply was fast, forthright, “I’ll call you whatever you wish.”

“Then…” She began with a weak mutter, allowing her hair to hide her face, “No, forgive me, never mind.”

“Tell me,” He commanded with grave urgency.

Tell me of anything and I will make it yours.

“Mayhaps,” His Lady paused a while again, “You’d agree to call me your ‘dear wife’?”

His cock twitched inside his pants. The blood that pigmented his face descended lower in its lax pursuit.

All that you need do is ask.

“Anything you want,” His voice rumbled in a breathless timber before he could stop himself, “Dear wife.”

She must have thanked him with a smile again. All she did those days was smile.

She smiled when that low lord approached her. She smiled at her engagement feast. She smiled when Aemond took her dancing.

“I trust,” Alicent had swallowed deeply, “That your mother already taught you what’ll occur after the wedding.”

Better said during the bedding. When she’d be forced to spread her legs for the one man who’d damned them all.

She smiled when Aegon named her bastard. She smiled at the mention of her sweet dead brother.

She hummed as she touched her fingers, rotating her golden rings.

“What of Aly Blackwood?” Her eyes pried at her heavy conscience, “You said that if I marry Aemond, you’d think of a way to release her and make peace with Benjicot’s House.”

–

Her trail of thought was pulled before her, like a feeble dream which she won't reach.

The handle of a leaden door was yanked, pulsing the quaint hall with clatter, and basking her with a warm light.

“We’re here.”

Though wailing dread flooded her senses, her voice came out in slight bemusement.

“It isn’t furnished.”

“I wanted you to have a say.” The depthness of his mellow tune carried out his crass remark, “I didn’t know how many dresses you’d have.”

The notion of her moving in, of sleeping side by side with him, of sharing a bed and a mattress and a bath with him – it hadn’t failed to make her snort.

Hidden from his plane of sight, she allowed a distant scowl to break in her pretty features.

She wanted to scream and shout. To lash out in grave disconcern the moment his revolting hands came in contact with her lower back, urging her to step inside. She wanted to laugh at him – at the sight of his scarred face, his forceful probe and lack of honour.

“You’re so thoughtful, Aemond. Thank you.”

A grave unease surged in her gut. Pure fright prickled at the apex of her thighs. Her once loose dress seemed to constrict her form from running – from hitting him over the head and at last make her escape.

A pained sigh escaped his lips – the One-Eyed Prince who killed her family.

The Kinslayer. The Trident’s Terror. The Prince Protector of the Realm.

Almost as if he could sense her worry, the lithe Targaryen beckoned her in.

There’d been a moment when he only looked at her, bearing holes into her face and the front lobe of her skull, as his thick brows twisted slightly, jarring in misguided silence. Her jaw clenched involuntarily, as his face hithered in closer. She closed her eyes for two, three seconds, before she opened them again.

The lack of ease with which he gawped at her would have dearly made her laugh. The great and feared Aemond Targaryen, so incursed, taken aback.

He exhaled deeply in connived frustration, and simply took a few steps back. A rumbled hum of welting havoc trailed behind his high-arched lips, and a simple look of ardour was engraved on his sharp face.

The hands which had been snaked around her let her go within an instant, and as a curse sprung from his throat, the man found refuge and retreat towards the blazing fireplace. The girl followed his lenient steps, which faltered near the goatskin armchair.

His hands moved in accord with stress. Stiffly he had poured himself a hefty glass of liquid courage – swallowing it down with haste, and indifference towards the spectacle that he made with his demeanour.

His hands were shaking. His gulps of dark and bitter wine accentuated with every guise of stolen looks he dared to throw and hatch her way. At one point through his fretful jitter, the Prince snapped with a scorned hiss.

"Do you reckon you need help with your black dress, my dearest wife?” The rattled edge within his voice echoed through the room's long walls – his tone was mystified by pain, by torturous need, and want, and lust.

"N-No, my love, that I do not." She tried with shear to reach her lacings, as her mouth quirked with a smile. The desolation in her orbs spun the man to heave a sigh – his wobbled hand to reach his collar, and pull at it with forced renown.

Multitudes of scattered feelings reveled on her softened face – pain and fear, disgust and anger, lack of confidence and broad distress.

Inch by inch she thus revealed patches of her creamy skin. Feeling all her fingers stiffen with perturbed stilling discomfort, shame and angst and staid mistrust.

Although her corset was now loosened, the source of air within her lungs remained scarce and all the same.

She maintained his carnal stare, watching how his one eye darkened, turning to an opaque black. His lips pressed into a line, his furrowed brows deepened his stare – he gulped another hoist of wine and swallowed thickly at her chaffing stare. His adam's apple bobbed up and down in repressed bewilderment and apt surrender. His weary mind surged with a vast contrast of thoughts, each one more torturous and sparse than the mentioned fleeting latter.

He felt utterly inadequate.

He'd touched and fucked women before – handmaidens that caught his eye, wenches that offered their heat, servant girls who lured him in.

But none had managed to prepare him for the unrelieved pressure of her. Of the one woman he loved, of the one he wanted most.

She'd been kind to him when they were children – and remained polite throughout when he dared to rain his anger on his ludicrous half-sister.

He regretted every hostile instance where he hurt her with his words. And every bite full of prone venom, that he threw her brothers' way.

He regretted how he acted, when he killed the raucous lord. How he taunted him with perverse pleasure, how he named Luke's shocking perish right across from his sweet wife – knowing somewhere all too well that she'd take offence to it.

His face felt numb, his limbs felt heavy. He wanted to denude her slowly, to prode at the extended nature of her smooth and nuanced skin. To devote himself to her fair pleasure, to worship the slickness of her womanhood with a reverence and love perturbed.

He longed to lay his masculinity at the altar of her maidenhood, get on his knees and devout his being to making her peak with him – on his tongue, on his slim fingers, on his chin, or on his face.

He’d read the ways to get a cunt wet – it would take no less good skill and incredible amounts of patience; but for her, he’d gladly wait, and gently stretch her virgin hole, with the aid of his firm touch and the pulsing of his deepened voice.

He closed his eye in a small prayer, as he begged his Gods for guidance – to be able to bring her to the heightened cliffs of sinful rapture, to be able to prove himself as a man fit for her needs.

To make her love him in return, perhaps, and make her see his side of things.

As he remained hammered in place, trying his hardest to regain control over his trembled conscious and his indulgent thoughts, the man failed to notice how his Lady made impressive progress into her methodical and empty musings.

Her head hung low as she undid the lacings of her fitted garment. Her eyes were cast in shadowed doubt and in utter lack of certainty – her breathing came as fast and laboured, and her hands with-held a tremor with every new poignant display of another patch of skin.

Unbeknownst even to her, hot tears of merciless aversion rolled off her rosy cheeks, landing on her petticoat and the cold stone ground below them.

The Prince sucked a jarring breath, as she turned to face the bed with a heartbreaking and crushed compliance. Her softened eyes peered at his form, and a forceful smile unfurled along the corners of her swollen lips.

His expression must have tightened, and his form recoil in slightly – for her hazy eyes enwrapped him, and her shapely brow rose up.

“Aemond…?” She tried to lace her voice with sweetness, “Do you–” The latter words died on her lips, and she remained with her mouth parted, until her thoughts surged loudly clear.

“Should I… d-do you want me to sit in any way?”

The hoarseness in her tender voice made the man pale in disgrace.

“You’re scared of me.” He long admitted, with a rough and neutral tone.

Aemond’s feet carried him slowly, towards the place in which she stood. When his hand came to rest over her wet cheek, she stiffened up and almost winced.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” The desperation in his utter broke the silence of their spacious room, “I would never hurt you. I would sooner die than see you in pain.”

Realisation settled in, and her lost face morphed with awareness. She brought her palm smooth on his own, and searched despairingly to entwine their hands together. When she opened her mouth to speak, she blinked away her forming tears.

“No, my P– Aemond. I could never be afraid of you.”

“Yet here you stand,” He murmured weakly, “Half-naked before me, and shaking.”

“The chamber just feels very cold.” His wife hung onto the excuse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I swear to you that I do want this –”

“I will not bed you.” He hummed as he wiped off her tears – a soft and feeble grazing led about by the callous ends of his smooth pads.

Her face breached forward with mistrust, as her weary mouth lulled open, “W-What? No, Aemond, believe me, I–”

“I will not bed you,” The Prince repeated to her gently, “Not until you ask me to.”

A disgruntled and affronted sigh left the high arch of his lips, yet an understanding look rained across his lustful stare. The one hand which hung loosely by his side trailed a slow path to her jolting shoulder. He swallowed thickly before speaking, pushing down his burning desire.

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr." The meek admission in High Valyrian made her relax into his touch, "Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon."

The Prince staggered with a shaky breath, whilst looking her into the eye. "Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?"

Although she tried so hard to speak, not a word etched from her throat. She nodded in undisplayed wonder, and gripped her husband by the shirt.

He took her balling fists in his, and kissed atop the even skin.

Thoughts strengthened with affirmed abhorrence steered clear through her befuddled mind – there may be hope to fix the error that she so tactlessly set off that night.

And yet before she could place Aemond’s hands down the shape of her small back, the Prince grabbed his sharpened knife, and merely nicked his open palm.

Droplets of deep-crimson liquid seeped into the whitened sheets, and the girl remained upright and frozen, as she watched him clean his blade and rummage through his modest cupboard for a piece of airy cloth.

With one hand he gripped the footboard – and began to firmly shove it into the stone wall up ahead.

The avid creaking of the bed turned into a pleased refrain. One not too fast, but not too slow, which carried on for a few minutes.

Outside their petulant and guarded door, whistles of men and cheers from women crassly seeped into their ears. Though most were muffled down by the sensitive and leal guards, some managed to blurt out half-enthused encouragements upon their midnight escapades.

A flow of compliments descended upon Aemond’s lasting pace – and some of the more improper ladies even dared to coo at her.

“It’ll feel better once you give it time, sweetling!”

“You simply must confine in us what it was like to ride a dragon!”

How utterly humiliating.

Like all bad things within the world, their idle and unseemly chatter ceased after a little while. Aemond sighed and stopped his motions, while granting her a knowing look.

“I’ll remain here for mere more moments. Then I’ll leave you for the night.”

‘N-No!” Her eyes widened in mistrust, as she gnawed her bottom lip. Almost too soon for her own well liking, she’d begged incessantly for him to stay. “Please remain near me, sweet husband… I so long to sleep by you.”

When her words seemed to elude him, she reached for his wounded hand, giving it a slight caress. She pressed her lips atop his cut, and devotedly looked up at him.

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr."

Aemond drew in a sharp breath, and merely settled on the bed.

“As you wish, my darling wife.”

Translations:

"Qybor" = uncle - specifically, from the mother's side;

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr. Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon. Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?" = 'Tis you who commands me here. I will not do anything that leaves you frightened. Why can’t you see that?

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr." = You said that I command you here. I order that you stay with me.

[phantominzie]

Ranting about TSS

I would like to start by saying, yes, I am fully aware I don't post fandom rants very often (ESPECIALLY SASI). However, I've been feeling rather upset over the fandom and Thomas.

I would also like to mention that in no way is this attacking Thomas or any of his writers, hell, not even the fandom itself. I just need to let all of this out.

You're always totally free to skip over this, I know ts crit isn't everyone's cup of tea <3

To start, I am so just...tired? It's been so frustrating waiting for a finale for four fucking years and getting the bait and switch every time Thomas makes a post about 'upcoming Sanders Sides content!'

I understand taking time to work on something so important to cannon, but four years? I can also give him a little leeway for having some staff issues, but it's almost painful to only keep getting the series we love get downgraded so harshly over the years.

Almost all of the sides have been made so two dimensional. At first they felt so fleshed out, so real, and fandom focused their character on one sole trait (not unforgivable but a bit frustrating). Then, I guess Thomas just picked up on fandom and decided 'yeah! I'll just make them two dimensional too!' That's not what we want. And frankly that's never what we wanted. Occasionally, he'll give us breadcrumbs of character development, or show us a sliver of light to what they once were, but it's never the same.

And frankly, I feel bad for having my hopes so high for the finale. Sure it's been taking four years, but that doesn't mean it will be perfect, hell, it might suck. Of course, I will watch it, but I won't be happy about it. About the lies, about the bait and switch, about the constant merch plugs over actual content, about the four incorrect quotes over working on the finale, about the prioritizing of under five minutes long videos that no one will watch anyways.

I love that Thomas is working on things that make him happy, and I don't think I'll ever stop being happy about that, but he needs to take into heart that without content, merch won't sell anyways.

He made a tweet recently that said that we would be getting the finale in an uncertain number of weeks, but based on the past four years I don't even think it will come out at all. If it does, I swear that if we get a merch plug in the finale I'm going to lose my shit.

I want him to see that fandom can't carry itself, and that if he doesn't have that finale have the actually well done makeup we've been begging for, or have our three dimensional characters back, then he won't have a fandom at all.

I'm almost angry that this is my special interest at this point, I'm so let down by the direction the series is probably headed.

I hope that no one takes this the wrong way, and if people leave death threats in my inbox (which has happened to people posting ts crit; no i'm not joking) then trust that you won't be answered. No one is to tag Thomas on this post, and if Thomas even finds this post then heed the words I've said. This isn't a threat to you, and frankly it never was. What is it is the frustrations of a tired and exasperated fan.

I'm sorry if this has rubbed anyone the wrong way, I apologize if it has. I hope this doesn't make people think I'm becoming some TSS hater, I'm really not. But I'm frustrated, and that's normal

Thank you for reading this all the way through if your here, I love you <3

[thefaiao]

Do you remember what hooked you on the LISA series? It's a decently impactful set of games so I'm curious as to why you've created so many drawings from it

A great question. I don't think I can answer this with absolute precision, but I'll try. I'll begin explaining how exactly I first got into drawing LISA, and we'll work from there to the reason I believe I am still compelled to draw more of it.

I first played and finished LISA at the end of 2016. I was decently active at that point, but hadn't garnered much attention to my drawings. I had made a Hotline Miami post that had gotten decently popular, and a few Yogscast(1)(2)(3) drawings that also did decently well, but overall nothing super noteworthy. Most Yog fans at the time weren't into what I liked mainly, which was Shadow of Israphel.

I was immature at the time, so had a hard time connecting with people in fandoms. Not to mention, I was a Brasilian in a sea of Americans and Europeans. You'd be surprised how hard it was to relate with people in that setting, but I tried here and there.

I felt pretty strongly about the HM post though, since it felt like a great personal achievement. I felt a drawing I had a clear vision for had achieved what I set out to do with it. Seeing how much people liked it, it was pretty magical when you've never had a post "do well".

Anyway, people were hopping out of tumblr and onto twitter, and I did as well. Twitter, despite everything, sort of puts you way closer to other people. Your reply to someone important is very visible and hard to ignore. It was a type of equalizer. There I had gotten to get my drawings actually seen and shared by Austin, the guy who made the LISA games.

Having had my drawings shared and recognized that way had a strong impact on me, and I even got to talk with an artist I really looked up to at the time, Maren, who had also gotten into LISA. She had done art for SBFP and TF2, so it felt surreal to me to be acknowledged by someone like that. Up to that point I really felt like more of a passive observer to everything.

In 2014 I finished high-school, and 2015 I spent the whole year learning how to draw better. I tried so hard that I ended up dissociating, a very scary emotion, that I didn't even know was a thing at the time. It felt like all that time and effort was starting to pay off, and that there was a way forward here.

First I posted sketches, and the passion I had for the game and motivation from the recognition led me to put a lot more effort than usual into my drawings. I ended up making these, which got really popular, it was very validating.

So because of all that I kept drawing. I'll be honest, a lot of the time I just wanted to get even more of the attention of these weird new cool popular friends that were paying attention to me for some reason. I was very lonely at the time. I think I stayed lonely for a long time after too.

But eventually people move on, as is normal with fandoms. I didn't really feel my passion for drawing and LISA die out though. I had started a massive LISA art project at the time, that took me 5 long years, and also was more focused in college, where I did Game Design.

Drawing wise, eventually I branched out to other RPGmaker games, but LISA was very easy to draw. It was sort of a home-base for me. Something I could come back to when I was uncertain.

I think Urasawa put it quite well, with Billy Bat:

Drawing the same characters over and over is extremely rewarding, and a great way to reflect on your progress so far. I suppose it's meditative, but that's not quite the right word. It's very fun and constructive, and people can also keep track of your progress through that. I did the same with OFF characters, a game I had drawn way before all this.

Of course, I had a lot of issues because of how things developed. I related a lot of my self-worth with the validation I received from people online, and I still do, to an extent...

When I started taking the game I'm making, Meanderer, more seriously, and started living alone, posting anything felt awful. I didn't have the energy for bombastic posts, or the time spent developing the way I draw the characters like I did for LISA, that is, with ease and style. It felt very humiliating, but I understand it was a warped view of things.

It was a long and depressing time in my life, but it taught me a few important lessons, and made me sort of re-evaluate how I engage with "online" overall. But I still liked drawing LISA throughout all of this, I almost felt ashamed of it to a certain point.

All of this isn't to say I didn't love the game itself. It wasn't all just context. I really, really love LISA. It drove me to sobbing tears, which I don't think another game has gotten out of me. It's a fantastic game, that really showed what fresh things you could do with the medium. When I played it I'm not sure I fully understood how much I loved games.

I just grew up with the characters of LISA. Maybe not in my adolescence, but definitely in my adulthood, and with my art. These characters help me orient myself, understand my limits. And it's damn fun to get better at drawing them. Even just a character on an empty blank canvas, with only black and white lines. It's the most fun in the whole world.

To finish it off, I have a general philosophy of not republishing drawings. So whenever I want to do a LISA post I have to draw a LISA post. Just keep drawing and drawing. Don't get hung up on one drawing or idolize one thing you did. Keep making things. It doesn't have to make sense. Just keep drawing.

(There was a power outage while writing this and I had to retype this whole damn post by the way. Appreciate it!)

[chopshajen]

~ The Trickster Cat ~ Compelling, Enigmatic, Condescending ~

I said a bit ago that I had a Kooza/Cats crossover in mind and even if it was cursed I would draw it anyways, and here it is now, surprisingly uncursed, or at least, surprisingly satisfactory! I'll have to do some dance poses sooner or later but I'm happy with this as a start :3

I tried to keep the design true to both sources of inspiration. Some thoughts on the design under the cut:

There are some elements of the Trickster's design that translate pretty well to stage!Cats costumes, namely the smooth-limb effect of the Trickster's extra-long sleeves and flared pant legs compared with the Cats arm/legwarmers. It's something I really like about the traditional Cats costumes (and a big part of why Cats 2019's designs don't work)* and something I REALLY like about the Trickster's outfits, so it's great for me.

*For further expansion on the subject, @missing-sock-misto has a great breakdown of the Cats costumes here. The relevant part is this:

They help shape the limbs and invoke the feeling of fluff. Human limbs taper, especially at the joints: wrists, elbows, knees, ankles. The arm and leg warmers help cover this, because they’re thick, making them more like cat limbs, which are functionally tubes.

It's one of the first elements I noticed when I first watched the Cats stage show, and when started interrogating myself as to why I liked the designs so much, I realized its importance in "evoking felinity", as azerairis and missing-sock put it. There are a lot of Cats adaptations that, for some godsforsaken reason, get rid of the arm and leg warmers, and it's almost always a mistake. We're trying to make them look like cute cats, not like painted humans.

For the Trickster, why they have long sleeves and flared pant legs may not be as obvious, but they do still serve a visual purpose. They make the Trickster appear that much more ethereal and otherworldly. Everything about them is smooth and continuous - legs flowing into feet, stripes swirling uninterrupted across their body, movement lithe and serpentine - and that makes them seem inhuman, especially when put in contrast with the stick-like, stumbling, uncertain Innocent.

Other more minor elements also translate pretty well. For instance, the Trickster's makeup is already very exaggerated, as is their "hairline" (hat...line?), in a way that doesn't look out of place in Cats. They have stripes on their face, monochrome eyes, and the :3 kitty mouth. The stripes on their body were easy to translate as well. Honestly I didn't have to think over it as much as I expected LOL Except for the wig. Don't ask me how that works. I do think this design is maybe...too simplistic? Like I maybe could've incorporated some of the suit elements of their costume, cuz the Trickster does look kind of odd without their tie. But I wasn't going to give them a collar because pfffftbl lmao could you imagine. Maybe they could have something Skimbleshanks-esque for a top with some formality to it, though I'm not sure putting human clothes on a cat version of an unknowable trickster god person makes sense either LOL

[drdemonprince]

Hi! I remember you talking about doing shadow work (in a reply to an ask, I think); do you have any advice on how to start? Especially for someone who who has a really hard time with consistency/habits? Thanks!

For me it is not an intentional practice separate from my regular life, it is an orientation toward my own most negative thoughts/impulses/reactions. I do not believe that any thought is harmful or morally wrong to have, and so when I experience a thought that is violent, cruel, bitter, pathetic, prejudicial, short-tempered, jealous, whatever else, I accept it, and study it with curiosity rather than self-condemnation.

I notice patterns over time in what I am particularly un-evolved and unenlightened about. What hang ups do I have? What weird bullshit respectability politics or traditional gender norms do I still apply to myself or to others? Who do I fuckin hate and why?

Which of these things can I just kind of shrug at and accept as a feature of my programming and which ones do I see seriously holding back my life? That's probably the hardest part of shadow work for me. I'm very aware of a lot of my flaws and the things i'm irrationally emotionally reactive to and defensive about, but I get attached to my way of seeing things. It can be scary to become more open-minded and uncertain and less spiky. And some things just aren't easy to change even if I want them to. Part of shadow work means allowing oneself to be in an unfinished state.

Another part of it for me is accepting with a dark kind of gratitude that the world would be a pretty terrible place if everyone was like me. There is so much about humanity that I do not understand. I could never be a surgeon. I could never be a good parent. I could never be a social worker. There is so much I am so bad at. Maybe this is the Narcissism and Lack of Empathy talking, but I've had to really humble myself. I used to think I was so much more rational and less of a waster of time and resources than most people around me. Now I realize I have run on self-denial and repressed emotionality for a very long time and demanded that life have some Purpose when it doesn't. So a lot of my shadow work has been acknowledging my ultimate smallness and feebleness and just general uselessness -- i have a lot to be grateful to other people for doing, but also life has no purpose that needs to be fulfilled so i can just exist and suck for every single second that i'm alive if that's what i'm gonna do.

radical acceptance shit is definitely mixed in there, and some DBT kinda strategies. I've finally arrived at a place where I can love my dissatisfaction as a core part of me and accept that life is not meant to be happy and comfortable. we always keep moving, changing our environments to make them a little better, chasing after new passions and then getting disillusioned with them, falling in and out of love, getting lost. we're always lost. we're always making mistakes and being dumb as humans. that's like what we are. silly little freaks that make up lots of pretend games for fun but then get swept up in believing them too much. i kind of feel at peace now with the fact that i'll always be messy and impulsive and have weird beliefs and will change constantly and look back on my past with a cringe reaction every four or five years. i dont expect myself to ever arrive, because what the hell would that look like?? being satisfied and happy sure sounds a lot like being dead.

[arandomperson5647]

Encanto info from Jared Bush's Q&As

This is a little place where you can find (hopefully) a lot of info Jared has said in his Q&As. This is if you wanna check smth and don't wanna go on a hunt to confirm it since it's been so long. Idk if I got everything, I highly doubt I did, so if you have a piece of info I don't have and have a link to it, I can edit it on. Ngl I'm also kinda doing this for myself cuz I was curious to know everything he's told us. I'll mostly summarize the answer so it isn't longer than it needs to be, but I'll also copy+paste if I'm too lazy.

The info here kinda varies from interesting, to obvious stuff, to potentially pointless but really any of it can be used to do whatever.

Some of the answers he provided aren't concrete solid ("I think __ would happen", "I always thought ___", etc), so take this all with a grain of salt. I'll try to phrase the uncertain ones differently so you know they're not 100% (probably, possibly, might, etc). If the answer he gives is completely up to interpretation, then I won't include it. Some might be repeated cuz I don't feel like looking back to see if he answered the same question twice.

Just to warn you guys before you click "keep reading", this is a LONG post, so if you don't want it fill up your page, don't click it unless you really wanna read everything.

Antonio's Birthday Q&A #2 (5/21/23)

Canon universe:

Dolores never truly believed Bruno was still around. She heard stuff, but everyone told her he was gone, so she thought she was imagining things. "I knew he never left" was her way of saying "I shouldn't have doubted myself."

Antonio was a shy kid and animals are were easier for him to make friends with.

The potteries in Bruno's room were because it was fairly public for people who want visions, so they're probably a nod to that.

When Pedro went to the attackers when he died, he was planning to reason with them.

Luisa's associated with donkeys because they’re beasts of burden and that’s how everyone treated her.

Mirabel has her embroidery because she loves her family, but potentially also because she subconsciously want to make sure the villagers know despite having no gift she is every bit a Madrigal.

Isabela might potentially secretly like Pepa's chaos.

Julieta's really good at hiding her feelings about the pressure of being the town's healer, but she's also a naturally strong person.

There's a reason why Bruno's single but Jared didn't tell us.

Bruno's favorite food is Ajiaco, but potentially also big butt ants.

Julieta probably noticed Mirabel wasn't in the pic at Antonio's ceremony immediately after it was taken, but Mirabel had already left by then.

For a while, Bruno's limit for future seeing was until the fall of Castia, but now it's limitless.

Alma didn't necessarily approve of Agustín at first because he wasn't overly spectacular or confident.

Mirabel and Camilo got along well when they were young, but after Mirabel's ceremony, Camilo felt more pressure to perform and show off.

Even before his gift, Bruno probably worried and wondered about the future, which is what caused his gift.

The Madrigals mostly assumed Bruno had somehow left the Encanto after his disappearance.

The birth of the miracle happened near the turn of the 20th century, and Antonio's ceremony was 50 years later.

The 5th birthdays for the Madrigals is the big one. The others are "regular".

Camilo often annoys Isabela for fun and also because he's a bit envious of her. They're kinda opposite, perfect vs a clown.

The post-movie relationship between Mirabel and Isabela is probably mischevious.

Bruno probably already was breaking from pressure when Isabela was only in single digits.

Alma was loving to all her grandchildren, but sometimes it felt conditional due to her expectations. She wasn't self-aware enough to realize.

Félix can play the tiple, but not shown in the film.

Agustín and Félix probably wore their respective colors before marrying their respective wives. Their colors are also a nod to regionality.

Alma might've seen cracks before Mirabel saw them at Antonio's ceremony (not at the moment tho), giving her a reason to actually believe Mirabel and pray to Pedro.

Based off the book "Mystery in the Rainforest", Dolores and Mariano are engaged and planning a wedding soon.

There is a school in the Encanto, but since it's closed off and was formed in the beginning of the 20th century, new info would cease.

Pedro might've been the one to know sewing and embroidery. He taught it to Alma, who taught Julieta and Mirabel. She probably taught others but Mirabel did it the most.

Bruno's door might've started glowing again during his vision in Antonio's room because Mirabel is making him feel included in the family (and therefore Casita) again.

The Madrigals do have friends groups, just not shown.

Camilo's gift can be tiring. Like an actor playing their part.

Mirabel probably would've had a negative or even traumatic impact from the fall of Castia, mostly due to a near death experience.

The Madrigals have never tested their gifts beyond the Encanto, so it's still a mystery on what happens.

Antonio probably can talk to animals from different countries, not just Colombia.

Camilo sometimes tries to impress everyone with his gift.

Mirabel's birthday became "stressful" ever since her 5th.

Isabela would probably help Antonio decorate his room with crazy plants.

Behind the scenes:

5/21 is Afro-Colombian Day, which is why that's Antonio's bday.

There used to be a deleted scene of Mirabel getting grounded by Casita.

The Guzmans originally had the same number of family members as the Madrigals, and each member was like a doppelgänger of each gifted Madrigal child, except Mirabel, who was represented in the Guzman family by a goat.

There used to be a scene where Camilo's gift goes haywire at night or smth (can't figure out the full pic for this one).

Writers considered early on that Mirabel would want to leave, but they decided that from a character and cultural perspective, leaving her family would have been the absolute worst thing she could imagine.

It's never been established how long the ceremony doors appear before the ceremony, but 9 months has been considered.

Early versions would show that Alma had strict parents. It may or may not be true now, but it would make sense.

Mirabel used to have a gap in her teeth to show her quirkiness, but was removed because they wanted to show it in other ways.

Encanto Disney+ Hollywood Bowl Q&A (12/28/22)

Cannon universe:

Emotions can sometimes affect Bruno's visions.

Camilo often helped take care of babies even before Antonio's birth. He was just naturally good with them.

The stairs in Bruno's room probably grew as he became more distanced, so they probably lessened when Casita came back.

Luisa's favorite sister is probably Mirabel.

Camilo would probably sometimes be happy that Isabela found her true self, while also a bit jealous. It depends on the moment.

The Madrigals' reaction to someone entering the Encanto would probably be chaotic.

As a way to protect them, Alma was always a little strict on her family.

Julieta and Agustín often worried how Mirabel was doing, especially for Antonio's ceremony.

Alma tried to show she loved Mirabel in her own way after her ceremony and before the movie.

Camilo's experience being the only boy in the house for a while was...interesting. Not the easiest.

Pepa and Dolores' gifts have caused some difficulties between the two.

Especially post-movie, Bruno, Agustín and Félix would be a ridiculous trio.

The candle is now gone, but a new miracle took its place.

Félix and Mirabel have a good relationship, especially post-movie.

Isabela's 5th birthday was the first gift ceremony for the grandchildren.

Bruno was probably superstitious before moving in the walls.

Before the house fell, Alma probably wouldn't like Dolores marrying Mariano. After, she'd accept it.

The other Madrigals might have hidden potential in their gifts, much like Isabela did.

The townspeople mostly either put the Madrigals on a high pedestal or see them as equals.

Isa probably had at least one flower she'd intentionally give Mirabel allergies with.

Bruno was probably a bit popular at one point.

Adopted Madrigal kids that were 6+ would probably still get a gift.

Mirabel's near-sighted.

Camilo's probably gotten in trouble for his disguises at times.

Bruno's mostly a rat guy because he's around them the most.

Pepa has a sweet tooth but doesn't let her self have too much due to her weather.

Isabela can grow trees and crops.

There's no definite reason why Isa was the favorite grandchild, but being the eldest didn't help.

When Alma said "the magic is strong, and so are the drinks", she was really trying to get everyone back to the party.

The gifts can tire out the Madrigals if used a lot, sometimes physical pain can occur.

Alma might have siblings, but it's not confirmed.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be a scene of Mirabel getting grounded. Idk if it's the same scene as the previous one mentioned, but the context of the question might suggest otherwise. ("What would've happened to Mirabel if she was found after the dinner?")

There were versions in the end credits of everyone reuniting with Bruno.

There is potential for a Madrigal with OCD, autism, etc, but not yet confirmed.

Triplet's Birthday Q&A (8/17/23)

Cannon universe:

Bruno and the grandkids now watch telenovelas together.

Julieta's favorite food is probably ajiaco.

Mirabel's first word would potentially be "sita" because she loved Casita but couldn't say the full word.

Dolores' room has a lot of soundproofing.

The reason Mirabel seems to interact with Castia the most out of the Madrigals is because she was mostly an outsider, with only Casita to talk to.

Encanto is a hidden place, so simply finding it is near impossible.

There are respected town elders in Encanto, but Alma is considered the founder.

Pedro said something to Alma before he died, potentially in Spanish, but it's not confirmed what.

In terms of personality, Mirabel is the closest to Pedro.

For adoptive kids, Casita may be able to anticipate the arrival of someone new even before the family is consciously aware of it, giving them a new door.

Bruno's a fan of chocolate.

Mirabel loves every color. She has no known favorite.

Julieta got married first between her and Pepa.

Bruno's rats aren't sentient like humans, so Bruno would have to train them to do whatever.

It's possible another Madrigal felt resentment towards Bruno after he left.

Julieta's gift possibly only works with a combo of cooking and giving, but not confirmed.

Bruno learned how to use his gift through practice and invented customs. It was complicated.

Julieta probably needs to know the person's injury before healing it.

The majority of the Madrigals' dominate hands are right. Julieta and Antonio are left handed. Luisa is ambidextrous. It's unsure, but Mirabel is potentially left handed.

Mirabel's favorite food is arepa con queso.

Antonio's favorite snack is nailed rice.

Agustín and Félix have jobs in the town, but not confirmed what.

In a book, it was mentioned that Bruno was the golden child of the family. He probably fell from that position in his late teens.

Agustín's favorite meal from Julieta is chocolate santafereño.

Gifts can possibly be repeated, but not in the same generation.

The refugees/townspeople had brought everything from home they used to start farming when the Encanto formed.

Isabela and Mariano still have a good relationship after the movie. Neither were too wild about the engagement.

The bedrooms can change if their owner wants them to.

The gift ceremonies will now be different without a candle.

Madrigals still do the traditional quinceañera.

The Encanto doesn't have electricity.

Bruno has left the walls a few times for a break.

Isabela will probably keep switching up her outfit now that she can.

Luisa has always felt protective of Mirabel.

Behind the scenes:

Casita used to have shown that it has only 1 bathroom, which was located in the back right corner under Bruno's tower.

There was a deleted scene where Julieta yelled at Alma in front of the entire town after Mirabel went missing.

Julieta is the one singing w/ Mirabel during the "constellations glow/the seasons change in turn" lyric.

There used to be a version of Bruno using water with his vision.

The line said by Mirabel, "Even in our darkest moments there's light where you least expect it" was cut after Lin Manuel Miranda wrote Dos Oruguitas and the emotional thrust of Mirabel’s words needed to evolve to encompass what she’d just learned.

There was a Waiting on a Miracle reprise that was cut because they felt they didn't need it.

The concept of a new door appearing was considered to start with the doorknob.

No one intervened during Alma and Mirabel's argument because the writers felt that it was Mirabel's moment to shine.

VERY early on, Bruno (then known as Oscar) was Mirabel's estranged cousin.

Indestructibility was a gift they wanted to use. It was actually Pepa's original gift.

Dolores' Birthday Q&A (8/31/22)

Cannon universe:

People in Isabela's position wouldn't really have the chance to have authentic relationships because they're hiding their true self. This could potentially apply to Isa herself.

Before Mirabel's ceremony, her family was excited for her. After, the family’s ability to see Mirabel clearly was too obscured by their unhealthy dynamics but were probably unaware of that until Mirabel brought it to light.

Bruno's oversized clothing was by personal preference, potentially because of his awkward nature.

Before Isabela showed up in Bruno's vision, another person was there, who is possibly a young Alma. While not confirmed, it is implied in Jared's answer.

Félix and Agustín already had gifts, just not in a way that others could see.

Isabela lets herself break the rules, so while not confirmed, it's possible she could recreate mythical plants.

The town probably functions like a combination of where everyone came from.

The triplets used to have little meetings in Bruno's room when they were little.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be a scene where Bruno revealed he had a secret elevator in his room.

Agustín's Birthday Q&A (6/19/22)

Cannon universe:

Part of what fuels the miracle is unconditional love. When Mirabel and Isa showed that during What Else can I Do?, it affected the magic.

Julieta often gives people the food they like rather than something random.

For a long time, Isabela was the favorite grandchild for Alma. Before her ceremony, Mirabel was. After Casita's rebuild, many dynamics changed.

Agustín was born in the Encanto, but his family was from a city, so he was raised with the city-vibe.

Luisa's favorite food is bandeja paisa.

Every gift can be affected by emotions in some way.

Casita probably helped Bruno hide, but not confirmed.

If Mirabel and Bruno decided to leave the Encanto after Casita fell, the entire family would've fallen apart.

The only people in the Encanto were the ones who traveled with Alma. They all got there at the same time, no one got in or out.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be an exit for Bruno's wall room behind the family tree, but it wasn't used.

Antonio's Birthday Q&A (5/21/22)

Cannon universe:

Mirabel's canonically 5'2.

Mirabel has good relationships with Pepa and Félix. Félix loves everyone and likes hanging out with pretty much anybody. Pepa is a good tia, she’s just very emotional, but for most of the movie (and her life before) felt she had to bottle her emotions which only made them worse.

Bruno probably doesn't need the sand for visions, but as time went on he added his own superstitions.

The color of the magic in the end changed. It wasn't the color of the candle anymore, but the colors of Mirabel. What that means? No one knows.

Bruno "felt" his vision cave collapsing and investigated. That's how he knew it was destroyed.

Camilo couldn't really hold a form forever because of how tiring it could be.

Mirabel did have a quinceañera.

Casita has a mind of its own with its own emotions. Sometimes it could play pranks on the Madrigals or be too upset to move anything.

Behind the scenes:

Earlier versions had a negative dynamic between Mirabel and Camilo.

The gifts are based off family archetypes. Antonio is a shy kid but opens up to animals.

Random Q&A (3/19/22)

Cannon universe:

The main reason for Mirabel and Isa's falling out was because they couldn’t see the difficulties the other was experiencing, because they were fixated on their own struggles. They were probably closer when they were younger.

Despite being shy, Antonio does have friends in the town.

Due to the triplets' bday being the same day as Pedro's death, it's a mixed day.

Pepa can try to stop natural disasters, but doesn't usually succeed.

Mirabel would sometimes have sleepovers with her sisters when they were younger. There was a deleted scene showing it.

The pink cloud scene in Surface Pressure represents the stuff Luisa wanted to do without the pressure.

Behind the scenes:

Tbh there wasn't any answers that could qualify as behind the scenes sooo... 🤷

Stuff that didn't come from Q&As but is still good info

Madrigal Birthdays (I'm not doing a link for each, just take my word for it lol):

Félix: November 11 (11/11)

Julieta, Pepa, Bruno: October 17 (10/17)

Agustín: June 19 (6/19)

Isabela: August 7 (8/7)

Dolores: August 31 (8/31)

Luisa: November 14 (11/14)

Camilo: December 28 (12/28)

Mirabel: March 6 (3/6)

Antonio: May 21 (5/21)

Madrigal ages:

Alma: 75

Julieta, Pepa, Bruno: 50

Isabela: 21

Dolores: 21

Luisa: 19

Camilo: 15

Mirabel: 15

Antonio: 5

I don't believe the husbands' ages are confirmed, but Félix is confirmed to be a little older than the triplets, while Agustín is a little younger than the triplets.

Julieta is the oldest of the triplets, Pepa in the middle, and Bruno is the baby.

[tj-dragonblade]

[Connect 4 FIC] Weekend Arts and Crafts

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1615 Tags: human AU, fluff, arts and crafts, crossover

Notes: For the @sandman-connect4 prompt Weave which is not the final space I needed but shh, I'll work on that next. This is in the Umbrella Boys universe, somewhere post-first-kiss but still early-ish in their relationship, and guest stars Gale from BG3. If you haven't read the rest of the Umbrella Boys, this can be read as stand-alone; all you need to know is that sharing an umbrella is their dating tradition, whether or not it's even raining.

Summary: Hob and Dream go on a date; Dream gets to meet one of Hob's friends

On AO3

"This class is taught by a colleague of yours?"

"Colleague and a friend, yeah." Hob scratches his chin, tilting the phone away so the sound of his nails through his stubble doesn't carry directly into the speaker. "He teaches astronomy here on campus, but he does some artsy classes at the community center. They're having an observer in to evaluate if the program is worth continued funding, and he'd like the class as full as possible to help with appearances." He spins his chair around, leaning back. "Thought it might make a nice date?"

"Will we be doing pottery? Painting?" Dream's voice comes through the phone, cautious but interested.

"Basket weaving, actually."

"Oh?" There's a little more interest, now, if Hob's not mistaken. Excellent. "I have never tried basket weaving, but I believe I might like to."

Silently, unseen, Hob pumps his fist. "Great! It's Saturday at one-thirty; we could meet up for lunch first if you like?"

"That sounds perfect." He can hear the little smile Dream is wearing. "Text me the details later; I know your next class begins shortly so I will not keep you."

"Thanks, dove. Talk to you later?"

"Of course."

Hob thumbs the 'end call' button, grinning happily. They've been properly dating for a little while now but every time he comes up with something new they can do that catches Dream's interest, it always makes him just a little giddy.

~

It's barely raining when they leave the cafe on Saturday; it's the sort of rain most Londoners wouldn't bother about an umbrella for, but they have a tradition to uphold. Dream tucks up close against Hob's side and Hob's umbrella covers them both as they stroll leisurely along the streets. Dream is uncertain where precisely the community center might be, and has no qualms in letting Hob lead.

"Your friend is a professor of astronomy, you said?"

"Gale? Yep. Been at UCL near as long as I have."

"How did he come to be teaching art and craft courses?"

Hob chuckles. "Ah, that's a question you'll have to ask him, and I'm sure he'll tell you if you do. Loves to share a good story, he does."

"A storyteller also?" Dream is hopeful that he will get on with this Gale; he would like to mesh well with Hob's friends.

"Oh yes. Especially if they're stories about himself."

Dream's optimism deflates a little. Something of it must transfer through his body language where he's pressed to Hob's side, because Hob laughs lightly. "Don't worry, he's not as obnoxious as I make him sound. A character, without a doubt, but a good bloke. I'm sure you'll like him and if you don't, we can always make an early escape."

"I trust your judgment." And he does; every date he's had with Hob so far has been a net positive and he is certain this will be the same.

They arrive at the community center precisely on time and Hob folds the umbrella away, shaking the dampness out of it first. There are several people there already, once they go inside and find the correct room; Dream is pleased to see that there are still open spaces available so he and Hob need not necessarily be squeezed in close to strangers.

"Greetings!" The man who speaks from the front of the room is remarkably attractive, longish hair half-gathered in a partial up-do, well-trimmed beard, warm smile and sparkling eyes, a dangling silver earring; he wears a deep purple button-down open well past his throat and tucked into tight jeans, a brown leather waistcoat unfastened over it. His shirtsleeves are rolled back to expose hairy forearms that are more toned than one might expect of an academic. His entire physique fills out his clothing in a way that suggests he does not spend any more time behind a desk than absolutely necessary, and Dream is already cataloguing every detail, suggestions of possible characters for future stories taking shape in his head.

The man's smile is broad and brilliant as he addresses the room. "I'm delighted to see so many new faces this afternoon! I? Am Professor Dekarios, of UCL—in my day job, at least. But this is not my day job, and you can call me Gale." He finishes his grandiose introduction with a flourish, face animated as he speaks. "Today, I shall be teaching all of you the wonderful and mysterious secrets of The Weave." He gestures broadly with his hands as he says it, enunciating such that the capitalization is unmistakable, and Dream wonders if perhaps his true passion was theatre before either astronomy or basketry.

He keeps wondering as Gale launches into explanation of the materials they'll be using and the basic components and terminology of this particular style of basket weaving. The man has a gift for speaking, animated in his instructional approach and extremely personable. He's dropped at least one cleverly-terrible pun so far and Dream can see, easily, why this man and Hob get on so well. He can imagine, as he follows instructions and sees a basket beginning to take shape beneath his hands, how charismatic Gale must be in the lecture hall with a captive audience.

They are halfway through the scheduled time, he and Hob chatting amiably over their growing baskets (Dream's is growing faster than Hob's), when Gale stops by in his rounds to see their progress.

"Hob, my friend! You made it!" His eyes turn to Dream, bright with interest. "And you have brought a companion!" He sweeps his gaze down Dream's body and back up, quick but unmistakable.

"'Course I made it, and yeah I thought it'd be a fun date." Hob puts the slightest emphasis on 'date' and Dream watches understanding flicker in Gale's face, flirtatious interest turning to ordinary charm in half a second. It's a fascinating shift. "Gale, this is Dream."

"Ahh, this is Dream!" A different sort of interest lights Gale's eyes, and his smile grows somehow warmer. "Hob has told me a great deal about you. It is a pleasure to meet you." Hob is fidgeting a little awkwardly but Gale pays him no heed, clasping Dream's offered hand and half-bowing over it in a courtly fashion. Dream is charmed despite himself.

"Likewise."

Gale smiles, broad and disarming. "And a pleasure to have you here today; thank you for coming! I can see you're already showing great talent with The Weave." He's released Dream's hand, turned his attention to the half-woven creation in front of Dream.

"It's very intuitive," Dream allows, picking up his in-progress basket to continue. "I am enjoying the process, and I believe I might like to do this again. Its almost meditative, and surely more practice will yield finer results."

"Ahh, indeed, for once you have tasted the magic of The Weave, you must return again and again in the attempt to master it."

Gale says this with the gravity and conviction of the wise old magician in a b-grade film, complete with a single wagging finger, and Dream feels his eyebrows lifting in bemusement. "I'm curious; why do you refer to basket weaving in that way?"

Gale chuckles, a little sheepishly. "I like to lend the craft an air of wonder and mysticism," he says, and Dream gets the sense that he's suddenly seeing a more straightforward glimpse of the man. "This is far from the most popular class on offer, after all. It's my hope that I can make the experience both fun and memorable for those who do sign up. Then, perhaps, they will recommend the class to others—or even return themselves."

"Well you're doing a marvelous job, in my opinion," Hob offers. "This is a lot of fun actually, and you've made it entertaining and easy to follow."

Gale glances between Hob's basket-in-progress and Dream's, which looks far closer to being a basket than Hob's does, and lifts an eyebrow with a smirk. "Easier for some of us than for others, perhaps."

"Hey now," Hob objects half-heartedly, while Dream ducks his head to hide his smile. "Some of us have talents that lie in different directions, is all."

"So long as you are enjoying the experience," Gale says with a grin, turning to move along to the next batch of students.

"Very much, yes," Hob replies, and Dream nods assent.

"I'm delighted to have you both here." Gale pats their table approvingly as he departs.

Dream ultimately finishes his basket before Hob, and spends the remainder of the class time assisting Hob with his—once Hob has admitted that the help would be appreciated, of course. When the allotted hours are up, they pack away their finished projects to survive the trip home and bid Gale farewell before heading out into drizzly late-afternoon London, Hob's umbrella keeping the worst of it off them both.

"It was lovely to meet your friend," Dream says, and means it.

Hob chuckles. "I'm glad."

"And to learn that you speak of me at length to your colleagues."

"I. Well." Hob shrugs a little awkwardly. "I do tend to be a bit chatty, and I've had a lot of fun on our dates so naturally you come up in conversation at work. I'm glad you don't mind."

"It's flattering, truly."

Hob shifts his grip on the umbrella. "I hope Gale wasn't too much?"

"Not at all." Dream snuggles closer against Hob's arm. "A character, as you said, but ultimately a charming one. In fact, I am definitely putting him in my next book."

Hob laughs, long and loud, and Dream smiles softly as they stroll on through the misty rain toward the bus stop that will see them home.

= Started: 11/10/24 Drafted: 11/18/24 Posted: 11/21/24

This is where I admit that I have never played BG3 or any DnD and all my knowledge is via friends and dashboard osmosis. But if you know even less than me and the joke didn't land: Gale is a wizard in his own canon and The Weave is the main magical force he manipulates in spell casting. This was the first thing that came to mind for the prompt and it insisted on being written. Hopefully it is at least worth a chuckle.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Hi! I think Season 5 was a really weird time to invert the love square - it just kind of happens, and the reasons don’t feel very organic, to say the least - I think fandom already has enough to say about it (and hey, you’ve probably talked about it too!)

So if you had to do it (keeping in mind 5 seasons, and canon’s overall structure), where would you invert it? I’ve had this question for a while, and recently arrived to, I’d do it in Miracle Queen, possibly show Marinette or Adrien reconsidering in a post credit scene (or in general, after the scene where they’re all sitting and Marinette goes for Luka). Main reason for me is, Miracle Queen is pretty inconclusive on the shipping aspect - it opens with Adrien being uncertain of his relationship with Kagami, and ends with Adrien still unsure, and Marinette finally accepting Luka.

On the Marinette side, that last part might seem pretty conclusive, but after she suffered a major loss (going with canon’s “Marinette lost Fu” here despite the many problems I have with the way Fu was written), I think the emotional void really couldn’t be properly filled with Luka, and had Chat Noir’s character not gone down the drain after the season finale, he’d be the only real option Marinette can consider even talking to - temp heroes outed, kwamis being glorified toys, barely anyone even knowing Fu and all that. In my ideal world, she would’ve at least moved on from Adrien (wherein canon of course has to insist on the OTP), and I feel Chat Noir fills the void very naturally.

On the Adrien side, I think him interrupting the kiss was a sign of him not knowing what he wants out of a relationship in general - he seemed to be moving on from Ladybug in Hearthunter, and the Ladynoir in Miracle Queen to me felt much closer to them being together against the world (which is… exactly what the episode says out loud), not falling in love. I don’t think Kagami would want a relationship with Adrien after that whole mess (and that did end up being the case), so the closest non Ladybug option would be Marinette. So not a random “I love Marinette because she’s so nice and she kissed me after I pranked her” (canon please 🙄), but more of a “Marinette has always been so nice to me, instead of bothering Ladybug even more I’ll at least try getting a little closer to Marinette” and things develop from there on out.

But Season 4 threw my hope and dreams onto a burning landfill so that was cool. Anyways, how would you structure it? This got a bit long haha

Don't apologize, that was an interesting and quite good argument for flipping the crushes at Miracle Queen. I hadn't really thought about it before, but that would have been a much more satisfying way to shake things up in season four instead of waiting until season five and then speed running the flip only to immediately undo Marinette's side of the flip all within six episodes. I think that your alternate season four could have worked, though it would require season four to really lean into the ending of season three instead of largely ignoring it.

Since you asked where I'd do it if I had to flip the crushes, I'll give you my thoughts, but first I want it put on the record that I hate the idea of both crushes flipping mid-show. One crush flipping feels reasonable, but both? At the same time? That's really hard for me to buy, especially since you'd have to do it pretty quickly given the way canon is structured. You can't drag things out for episodes at a time. Most things take, at most, two episodes.

I'm also not sure what the point of flipping the crushes is. It feels less like narrative progression and more like a stalling tactic since the love square will only get together if one crush flips. Both crushes? Same square, different angle (I jokingly call it the love diamond.)

And yet, canon actually managed to pull off a very solid reverse crush setup. If season five had started off with the crushes flipped, then I would have totally believed it. Marinette just had her crush on Adrien cost her all of the miraculous. That's a very good way to kill a crush just like finding out Chat Noir's identity is a very good way to banish her fears from that event, allowing her to have the confidence to stay with Adrien post-reveal.

Similarly, Adrien just spent a whole season being sad about Ladybug not giving him enough attention, leading up to an episode where Marinette saw that he was suffering and reached out (if only because of magic). I absolutely believe that he'd start falling for Marinette and be less upset with Ladybug post-reveal now that he knows that she has been supporting him all along. He was just looking for support on the wrong side of the mask.

Instead of taking advantage of that setup, canon delayed the flip a few episodes and made it wholly unbelievable. They really give us an episode where Ladynoir got married and had children, followed it up with the episode where the crushes flipped, and then tried to convince us that Marinette was the one who hadn't really fallen in love with Chat Noir. Marinette. The girl whose deepest desire is apparently marriage and children with Chat Noir. But her love isn't real? Really? Yet Adrien is really over Ladybug?

Bull. Shit.

Jubilation is not that setup you go with if Adrienette is your goal. It's the setup for Ladynoir.

Anyway, back to your question! As I detailed above, season five's intro episodes feel like the most obvious place to flip the square. I'd also be interested to see someone do it at Miracle Queen like you discussed, though it would be much less straight forward than season five, making it a better fit for a fanfic than canon in my opinion as I think you'd be hard pressed to do it well within the confines of canon's structure.

My other top choice is Origins because I am a love diamond purist. I think that it's the easiest way to fix a lot of canon's issues. For example: Marinette hanging magazine clippings of her friend/crush all over her walls for all to see with the full knowledge that she actually knows this guy? Kinda weird. Why are you writing it like she has a celebrity crush and not a "real person" crush?

Marinette hanging magazine clippings of her secret hero partner all over her walls? Totally understandable. It's not like she can act like it's a "real person" crush without giving herself away or looking unhinged. Plus how else is she supposed to get pictures of him? It's not like she can take some of her own. That would lead to a lot of awkward questions! She'd also have no reason to think that he'd ever see her shrine. 😈

[junostarot]

pick-a-pile reading

🍒 who has their eye on you in your dr?

choose an image above that you feel most drawn to, then scroll down to find the associated pile. don’t force any messages: take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. your selection will reveal who is romantically interested in you, and what your relationship would be like in your desired reality!

PILE ONE

key words & symbols … books. 444. green. nature. red string of fate / soul ties. autumn or changing of seasons.

this individual is likely an animal person, feeling very drawn to care for them and spend time with them. they may also have a dash of golden retriever energy and a more upbeat personality. with physical touch as their love language, they love giving forehead kisses with your face cradled in their hands, or interlocking your pinkies just to feel connected to you. you two may have a bit of a grumpy x sunshine dynamic at times, with your dr self being a bit more reserved or introverted. they want you to feel loved unconditionally, regardless of what you think of yourself and your past. close friends to lovers, or a friend you never expected to fall for. your love is like autumn, like the scent of apples and cinnamon or feeling a crisp breeze while wearing a warm sweater. halloween likely has a special place in both of your hearts.

“I want to stay on the back porch while the world tilts toward sleep, until what I love misses me, and calls me in.” — Dorianne Laux, from "On the Back Porch," Only As the Day Is Long: New and Selected Poems.

PILE TWO

key words & symbols … sea, ocean. stars, night sky, starlight. snow/cold. 777. wolves, canines. the letters k & a. the colors white & pink. roses. rabbits or lambs.

this is someone who wants to know more about the world around them, through exploration and introspection. they are dedicated to learning about themselves, healing, and growing on their path. this person may have been a lone wolf for a while before meeting you, but having you around is like following the north star to solace. they care deeply about protecting you and ensuring that you are safe. quality time is important to them, even if it's just sitting in silence while you watch the sky (stargazing or watching the clouds). they prefer silence and keeping their distance from most people, but you're an exception.

“Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.” — Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift.

“I touch you, straighten the sheet, you turn over in the bed, tender / sun comes through the curtains / which of us will survive / which of us will survive the other.” — Margaret Atwood, from "There Are Better Ways of Doing This."

“She's waving hi, her other hand's in mine ... She's got my back, she'll follow me down every street, no matter what my crime.” — Amsterdam by Gregory Alan Isakov.

PILE THREE

key words & symbols … butterflies. orange. tangerine. red. yellow/gold. crown. the letter p. angels or angelic/heavenly imagery.

this person has tried hard to be as soft as they are now, especially with their past behind them; they have experienced events that would make anyone else turn to rage and hurt, but they don't want that for themself. they want to be someone loyal and trustworthy, a person you can turn to when you need it most. when other parts of their life feel uncertain or unpredictable, they know that you're a constant. they find comfort in your arms, like listening to a long-time favorite song that never fails to make your heart feel warm inside. they love french fries and trying new foods (they're likely always hungry, possibly due to superpowers of some kind and needing to fuel themselves for extra energy).

“Save me, I'm lost. Oh, Lord, I've been waiting for you. I'll pay any cost, save me from being confused. Show me what I'm looking for.” — Show Me What I'm Looking For by Carolina Liar

“Since I met you, I've felt abandoned without your nearness; your nearness is all I ever dream of, the only thing.” — Franz Kafka, The Castle.

“When you cycled by, here began all my dreams ... And you never knew how much I really liked you, because I never even told you. Oh, and I meant to Are you still there, or have you moved away?” — Back To The Old House by The Smiths