#They've both been through so much already you can't separate them now

[sass-squat]

Part 7 of the Linked Universe Winged Au (LUWAU)! After many requests and a very long wait we've got our boy, Hyrule!

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As per tradition here at Sass-Squat enterprises we have to start off with a little bird fact, so did you know that Henslow's Sparrows have the simplest and shortest song of any North American songbird? Their song is often described as a "feeble hiccup," and while they sing primarily sing at dawn and dusk, they are well known for sometimes singing all night long!

Anyways, I thought this was an interesting little fact because Hyrule oftentimes refers to himself as nothing more than a, "humble traveler" so I believe him having a simple "feeble hiccup" of a song matches that same energy.

However, Hyrule is heavily based off of a Henslow's Sparrow in my Winged Au for a multitude of other reasons aside from just his song. Hyrule is a such a sweet, simple guy, so I felt that it was right to assign him a bird that matches his down to earth nature, and a Henslow's Sparrow seemed the right fit in both appearance and behavior.

An example of their behaviors matching his own is the fact that Henslow's Sparrows take flight only with great reluctance, preferring to flee from threats by simply running through the grass. Before joining the chain, Hyrule was alone for the vast majority of his life both canonically and in this headcanon. As a result of this, he never really had anyone teach him how to properly preen or take care of his wings so they fell into a pretty disastrous state. This damage to his wings and flight capability didn't really bother him too much though, because much like a Henslow's Sparrow, he generally preferred walking as it was a safer, less conspicuous option of travel when he had monsters constantly hunting him down. The chain have all since helped him with his preening habits however, and he is doing much better but he still generally prefers walking over flying.

Another example of similar behaviors is that sparrows are oftentimes symbolic of productivity, cooperation, teamwork, and finding joy in the little things of life. Additionally, their spirits are said to be great at problem-solving and are capable of thriving in difficult environments. If that doesn't describe Hyrule then I genuinely don't know what does. He may not be as fast or strong as the other members of the chain, but he is very hardworking and he has a strong sense of determination and perseverance that really makes him shine in difficult situations.

Anyways! I could continue and go on for hours, but that's got to be all for now folks! Thank you all again for your kind words and comments! They always make me laugh and never fail to make my day. As always, feel free to ask any questions or simply leave requests for who or what you would like to see next and I will try my best to get to them all as soon as possible! Thank you all again!

P.S. I wanted to personally let @miadancer24 that I finally drew her boy! I promise I've seen your comments friend! :D I'm sorry it took so long to finish him!

[mochinomnoms]

I don't know if you've already answered this, but how would ptm go if Jade was the one reading Yuu's mind instead? Or if the ability switched over to him for some length of time, how would he use it?

I do have some ideas of how it can get switched over to other people in PTM, I just haven't decided how exactly. Though I have written two short drabbles about Riddle and Azul having Yuu's telepathy for a bit!

I think it would be funny if Jade somehow got their telepathy right around the time that Yuu is at the brink of insanity trying to figure out how to get Jade to confess to them (they can't comprehend doing it themselves, they chicken out).

Perhaps they unintentionally transfer their power one evening to Jade, after a study session, and when they wake up in the morning, they're panicking because they can't hear anyone's thoughts. Originally, this might have been a blessing, but they've gotten so used to it, it's been a habit to talk to their friends discreetly through it, and it's been their one-way ticket into Jade's heart! He might not have even liked them as much as he has without it (nevermind that his feelings were established well before their telepathy developed).

So they're walking around school, immensely distressed and getting spooky by everyone every minute. It's awful, Riddle tries to console them by telling them how much better it's going to be now that they don't have to deal with all of that extra stimulation feeding into their head.

When they talk to Azul about it later on, he surprisingly doesn't seem very surprised about it. He does advise that perhaps they limit their interactions with Jade, though he doesn't say exactly why. It makes sense to them though, they can't act accordingly to how Jade wants them, and if they start acting weird now it will ruin...whatever it is that the two of them have.

Of course, they both are in the same potionology group, so it's hard to avoid him. It's worse when Yev asks that the two of them go alone to the botanical gardens later to forage for some ingredients. You both show up separately, Yuu arriving before Jade.

They hate not being able to hear anyone, it would be so easy to sneak behind them. But really, they just are still distress about not being able to hear Jade.

Ugh, should I just be like super cool-faced? Will that throw him off? Maybe I should be cutesy? He likes cutesy, right? UGH! WHY DO I EVEN CARE NOW???

Yuu kicks at a rock in their path, huffing and stomping over to the magical herbs section.

I didn't even like him that much! Why do I even like him now? He thinks weird lewd thoughts about me and tries to get me alone with him to make them become real! That's weird! That should make me not like him, why do I feel the exact opposite!

They're so deep in their thoughts that they don't hear the footsteps behind them, though if Jade doesn't want to be noticed, then he won't.

Stupid! It's not fair, I want to kiss his stupid face and hold his stupid hand. Why can't he confess first? It's not fair, he's had feelings way longer than me! If he wants me, maybe he should initiate one of his stupid, lewd fantasies instead of just dreaming about it!

Yuu is well aware of the irony in their sentence, but they won't admit it. Not while they're pulling the vervian.

Hmph. My doesn't he take initiative, hmm? H-he's got that stupid long tongue, I've seen it! H-he can kiss me and m-make me all dizzy, a-and scrape those stupid teeth down my neck…Ja-Jade would be gentle…right? O-or maybe he'll be a little mean, and leave a mark as he goes further down and down and—

They choke on a scream as they feel a pair of hands grab them, one around their waist and another grasping their right hand.

“Oya~ You're quite the hypocrite, aren't you?”

Jade was purring in Yuu's ear, his breath fanning over their neck and making them shiver.

“J-Jade! What are you—”

“When I woke up this morning, I thought that perhaps I'd been cursed. It was like I was hearing everyone speak in layers, they'd say one thing, but mean another.”

A shuddering whimper left their mouth, their left hand clasping over, as Jade's lips pressed against the back of their ear.

“Huh? J-Jade this is really in—”

“Azul gave it away, of course. He's never been able to really hide his thoughts from Floyd and I. But add this sudden gift of, what do you call it...telepathy? And he's like a treasure chest that's been forced open and presenting me with a trove of knowledge.”

Yuu froze, icy cold fear coursing their veins as Jade's grip on them tightened. Like he knew that their flight response was gearing to go.

What. He's got—no, he doesn't—

“Yes, my pearl, it's exactly as you think!” Jade sighed, nuzzling into the side of Yuu's neck and inhaling at the bend of their neck, where their pulse was rapidly increasing. “I was surprised, hearing from Azul, that you'd been struggling with this all year. Even more when his mind slipped that you'd been particularly stressed because of me.”

Jade sighed, a sad and deep sigh as he pressed another kiss into their neck, using his nose to push their collar to the side and kiss their shoulder.

“Devastating, isn't it? To know that my beloved, my mate, my pearl was distressed because of me! Aaah, that knowledge just broke my heart...”

Oh. God. Oh god, oh godoh god—

Yuu swallowed, deciding to take a peak at Jade from the corner of their eyes, freezing as Jade's own bi-colored eyes bore into them, a smirk on his lips growing as soon as he noticed them looking.

“At least until I came in here, and heard those delicious thoughts of yours.”

A low chuckle left Jade as he scraped his teeth along Yuu's jaw.

“Would you like me to make the first move? Would you like to to, what was it you're imagining? Take my 'stupid long tongue' and make you 'dizzy with it?' That was it, yes?”

Jade's hand around their waist ghosted down, fingertips grazing down to rub and squeeze at their inner thigh.

“You wanted me to go, how did you imagine? Further down and down with my tongue until...well, you didn't finish that thought, did you? I interrupted you, so...why don't you tell me?”

I-I can't...

“Of course you can, I'm being quite vulnerable with you. Won't you do the same with me, my pearl? I beg.”

Jade's voice turned whiny, meek, pleading as he brought Yuu's hand up to press a kiss to their palm.

“J-Jade, I want you to-to—” Yuu whimpered, finally turning their head to look at Jade, who tilted his head in curiosity and delight.

“Yes?”

“C-can you kiss me? Please?”

His eyes softened, lips slightly opening as he let out a gentle breath.

“Oh, why, of course, my pearl.”

Who was he to deny them. Who am I to deny myself. He thought as he obliged to the simple request and fulfilled both of their wishes.

[darcytaylor]

Idk if anyone else is having the same experience as me, but as a fandom neutral who doesn't ship anyone, I don't feel any sort of way about the recent info we've been getting? I don't feel like we're learning anything new, this is pretty much what's been going on, it's status quo.

What's been interesting for me to observe in this situation is the fandom meltdown surrounding it in response to what is essentially no news? It's like a giant Jenga tower of conjecture, wishful thinking and rumors was stacked up to high heaven and now a bottom piece has been pulled out, but the blocks where never from the same set to begin with, so they never even fit together properly? Some of the fans built narratives on top of other narratives and they've basically hurt themselves by ignoring crucial information but at the same time leaning into what they've interpreted as hints of things that they want to happen or be true.

Nic and Luke haven't addressed anything one way or the other and the fandom has sort of diverged into its own thing, almost separate from the people it's supposedly built around, and any info that challenges the favorite narratives is pushed against vehemently, which only perpetuates the cycle of hurt when more of it emerges.

Nothing has actually happened here. Nic is traveling with friends and attending events related to her field of work. Luke is potentially on vacation with his partner, perhaps visiting her family. These are things we've seen them do in the past multiple times, both with the same and different people. Maybe the response is so outsized because they did an unexpected thing in that they posted hints about what they were doing? But at the same time, the fandom whipped itself into a frenzy of anticipation over stories that were very innocuous at heart?

Anyway, I think we've reached a point of disconnect between fandom and celeb that can't be reconciled atp. It feels like a disembodied cluster for the sake of community and having something - anything - to connect over. It hasn't been about the actual people at the core of it for a long time.

This is such a well-articulated take! I agree with your observations, especially the idea of the fandom almost evolving away from the actual people at the core. It feels like the narratives some fans have built for themselves have created a feedback loop, where every new piece of "information" is filtered through an already established lens, even if that information doesn’t actually say anything new.

The Jenga metaphor you used is really good! People have built these intricate structures on top of speculation, and when even the smallest piece doesn’t fit or gets pulled out, the whole thing topples into chaos. I think you’re right that the disconnect between fandom and the actual people has been growing for a while now. And it’s probably made worse by the fact that neither Nicola and Luke aren't addressing anything directly, which leaves a vacuum that fans keep trying to fill with their own ideas.

I also love how you pointed out that Nicola and Luke are just doing things we've seen before - traveling, spending time with friends and/or partners - yet the response to these normal activities is wild. It's like the fandom may be searching for something that isn't there. Maybe that’s why things feel so dramatic when, in reality, it’s business as usual for them.

Thanks for sending this in! I think your perspective is a breath of fresh air in all the noise surrounding this situation. It really does feel like a reminder to take a step back and let things unfold naturally rather than force narratives that may lead to frustration!

I also want to add that it's okay to ship whoever you want together. Everyone is entitled to their own preferences and interpretations. And I think it can be fun. However, when that leads to leaving awful comments - towards others, myself included in that - because I don’t take it at face value, it becomes toxic. That might be a sign that it’s time to take a step back and let things just unfold naturally.

[gooboogy]

The problem is they both make sense.

John lacks any agency, and as his abilities start "failing" he loses more of what little he has. The only things he can do is perceive the world through Arthur's eyes and talk to him in his head. That's it. He has no material effect on the world around them. He is solely 100% reliant on Arthur for his continued existence and influence on the world. He can't ignore Arthur whatsoever (unlike Arthur who can ignore John easy peasy) he can't Do anything but talk and observe (and also experience the deaths of people Arthur touches but ultimately that does nothing). Of course he is going to be distrustful of other people and possessive over Arthur.

Arthur feels like suddenly he can't rely on this very reliable thing that has been keeping him alive this whole time. It would shake anyone up. Especially with the shit they have to deal with? If he can't rely on directions he will be sliced to ribbons or shot without a chance of fighting back. They may as well be dead already. And for all of John's lack of agency, it's Arthur who has to actually deal with the consequences. He's the one who's getting wounded and torn to bits and has to fight all that. Plus it's HIS body. If someone's existence relies on your body, you have the right to refuse, bodily autonomy is a human right.

The problem is they've gone through this cycle before (cycle of learning and forgetting and learning that they are One Unit and need to work Together vs The Problems and forgetting) but never has it shaken Arthur so much. Even when they've argued before he would still listen to John's directions. But now? Everything is in question (as is probably the intent behind John's "failing" abilities.) They DO need other people to help and they DO need to be careful and include John. They cannot truly trust someone else while keeping John a secret or without his input. Arthur has the most control over the situation and the onus is on him to make the compromises. Yeah it's his body but 1) countless times he promised to John that they were in this together and 2) at this point separating them would be so traumatic that they may as well be One.

All of this is to say, curious that Arthur is so willing to tell Oscar about literally everything EXCEPT John. What happens if he does? What if there's someone else to assert for John in a way Arthur can't ignore so easily? Would that legitimize the shared ownership of Arthur's body? What does it mean for John to gain agency by the loss of Arthur's autonomy?

[wordtotherose]

"Astarion- I- I need Astarion- Please, where is he? Astarion!" 

He hears her from the hallway, kicking off his shoes, and breaks into a run when she screams his name this time.

"ASTARION! Please! I need- let me go- let me go- please- I need him!" 

He's up the stairs in a flash. The door is thankfully already unlocked so it cracks into the wall and bounces back to slam into him but he's across the room before it can. They've been in this house two days. Two days. He'd left her for barely two hours to go find some miscreant to drain until near death in a back alley because the move has sapped Elizia of all her energy. All of it to the point that he hadn't wanted to leave her alone, had sullenly and indirectly asked Shadowheart to come over to be there if she woke before he was back. Didn't want her to wake up alone in case it was from a nightmare. Again. 

And it seems he was right to do so, stupidly overprotective as it has made him feel. It probably isn't the moment to feel vindicated but he does, he does. 

They had agreed on keeping separate bedrooms to ensure they each had space to themselves, space that is purely their own. Of course that doesn't mean that they're not still attached traumatised hip to traumatised hip. He'd left her sleeping in his bed, a note on the pillow next to her and Shadowheart downstairs in their kitchen organising Elizia's new array of alchemy ingredients. 

"Astarion- As- Astarion- Please- Shadowheart, please, where- where is he? I need him safe, I need him here." 

Continue Reading on AO3 or after the cut. Prompts welcome through asks!

The bedroom is spacious but not large enough to feel empty, even with only the bare bones of furniture. A desk and chair, a wardrobe, a feinting couch that was a house warming gift from Gale of all people, and of course dark, heavy curtains over the window with matching drapes around his bed.

Elizia hasn't heard the door, going by her uninterrupted pleas, so he moves slowly despite the tension shaking his hands as he hears her whimpering and Shadowheart whispering reassurances. He is gentle with parting the drapes around his extravagant four poster bed, telegraphs his movements before he follows them through even though Elizia doesn't look over. Shadowheart has her palms cradling her friend's face and so turns her to look at him as he slowly crawls onto his knees in front of them both.

"He's here, Tav, see? He's here. You need to breathe for me, your lungs can't take this for much longer. You are going to knock yourself out." 

Elizia looks a mess. Her babbling is worse still.

A complete and utter bedraggled mess. Cheeks stained with tears, eyes manic yet unblinking as she darts her gaze over Astarion over and over again. The loose night braids he put in earlier are sleep mussed and he can only hope she hasn't been scratching at her scars again. Shadowheart isn't restraining her wrists so he tentatively guesses not. She is clutching at her stomach though, like she's in physical pain, which she likely is. Her chest is delicate nowadays, the exertion of the panic she's drowning herself in cannot be helping.

"Snap out of it, spawn," Shadowheart hisses, not unkindly.

"Right. Sorry. Yes." 

Elizia whines in terror at hearing his voice and it breaks his dead heart yet again. How many times since the end has it cracked? How long until they can move on, together? 

"Astarion, you... you're not-"

Shadowheart backs away, waiting until Astarion has Elizia wrapped in his arms tight and safe. Secure. As protected as he can possibly make her feel as she sobs into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of Elizia's head, over the tips of the lines of her scars, then against the point of the ear not listening to his slow, undead heartbeat.

"I'm here, darling, I'm real. I'm here." She's nodding but he doesn't trust for a second that she's actually believing her own senses right now. He shoots a look at Shadowheart, demanding an explanation.

"She slept on her front, her rib moved and caused swelling, I think." Shadowheart, no longer having to focus on keeping Elizia from hurting herself further, strokes down her friend's sweat-ridden back with a blue glow radiating from her fingers, he feels more than sees Elizia's relief. "She must have woken up mid-night terror or something, I haven't gotten a word out of her besides your name and asking where you are."

He sighs, not in exasperation, just...tired. Tired of a world that sought to put them through agony again and again, even after everything this woman has given, has sacrificed, has suffered. All that he has suffered alone and scared and doomed to experience over and over because he screams the prettiest, because his pain is the most beautiful. He cannot begin to imagine seeing Elizia's hurt as anything but horrible. Awful. Something he wishes he could prevent, not just soothe. 

"Thank you," he says, and he truly means it. 

Shadowheart nods and leaves them be. He isn't in a state of mind to ask if she's leaving entirely or not. He'll find out later either way. The much more pressing matter is of the half-elf clutching at him with scrabbling fingers, skin fever hot through her nightshirt which really is one of his camp shirts.

"Elizia, my darling, I'm here," he nuzzles her cheek, draws her up into his lap, speaks into her ear as he nudges her into his neck and shoulder, feels the damp grow from her tears into his own clothes. "What can I do? I don't...I don't know what to do, my love. Should I keep talking?"

Elizia nods, her nails dig into his shoulderblades then retract as she rambles an apology, her sobs hitch but start to settle too. 

"That I can do. I can do that. Are you comfortable? Do you want to lie down?" 

He cradles the back of her head, knows how heavy she can feel when exhausted, has listened to her try to explain the effort it can take some days just to keep her head up. Like the weight of the scars, of the damage done, is too much for her to carry. So he will gladly help her bear it now.

"Can I..." She trails off, relaxes into his hold but doesn't hold back with any sort of strength. 

"Can you what, pet?" He asks as he kisses up and down her earrings again, tilting her head up to reach the hinge of her jaw. "Ask and it is yours."

She turns into his lips, like a flower turning to the sun, and as the sun around which she has, somehow someway for some reason, decided to revolve her life he will lend her what warmth he has. He presses kiss after kiss to the curve of her cheekbone, the line of her brow, the freckles dotted from hairline to the corner of her mouth. Waits patiently for her to find her words.

"Can I touch you? Please? I- you were gone, Astarion, I did everything and you still died, you still-"

"Hush, Tavaril, I'm not dead." He pauses, reconsiders. "Well, I am, but I'm not dead dead. Gone dead. It was just a dream, I promise."

She starts to pull away, wiping at her own tears, and he realises too late that he didn't answer her question, she's pushed herself back to the headboard before he can reach her to pull her back. 

"I'm sorry, I'm a mess. I shouldn't- it's not for you to have to- you don't have to, I shouldn't have asked, it's your body, you are your own, I promise I know that." 

"What?"

"I'm fine, I'll be fine," she continues, already looking around as if for the best way to leave the cosy space he's made with decadent pillows and numerous blankets. "I apologise, I didn't- fuck, I didn't remember- no, not- realise. I didn't realise for a while that it was, like you said. A dream. Just a dream. I'll-"

"Do shut up, darling, and let me speak." 

Her mouth closes with an audible click. He waits for her to look at him then pulls his shirt off, speaking whilst he does. "If you'd given me a moment to answer fully, you would already be touching but now you may as well let me lie down first." 

She nods, valiantly keeping her eyes on his, not drifting down to his body and gods if that doesn't make him feel safe too. Not seen as a sexual object but as a loved person. A person beloved and who can bring her the comfort she so desperately wants, needs. He makes himself comfortable next to her and opens his arms. She falls into them slowly, hesitantly. With a roll of his eyes he smiles and pulls her on top, settles her carefully as she rolls her eyes back at him. 

"Touch away, my sweet, I'm all yours. However you'd like, we have all the time in the world."

"Tell me, promise you'll tell me."

He pushes up onto his elbows, kisses her with every ounce of care he feels, the entire infinity of it. She pulls back first.

"I love you too," she whispers. 

The bed is delightfully soft as he drops back down, hands behind his head as he smiles up at her. There's a myriad of quips he could make now but he doesn't want to interrupt whatever thoughts have got her looking so pensively at his chest. She aims for the dip between his collarbones first. Her fingertips are warm to his own chilled skin, callouses less defined than they used to be. For the first minute she watches his face closely. He meets her gaze from below hooded eyelids every single time, watches steady and trusting as she runs her fingers through the trail of white hair curling from his navel down to beyond his trousers. She doesn't so much as look like she considers going further, below the belt, simply moves on to run her thumbs into the slight divots of his hips above his waistband. It's...new. To be touched like this. To lay still and let himself be...not used, never used, not by her. She'd throw herself on her own blade all over again if he so much as insinuated such a thing and isn't it odd, isn't it wonderful, to know that so solidly in his bones? That he doesn't have anything to fear from her. Heartbreak, maybe, one day, but even so, if that is her choice then so be it. Falling on a blade is not so far a thought were he to force her to stay. 

Lips over his heart.

He jolts a little in surprise and she freezes in turn, looks up at him questioningly. "Astarion?"

"You're okay," he answers, approaching dazed as he marvels at the darkness of her eyes without candlelight or a celestial body shining from the sky.

"Are you?"

"Yes, yes, I- I am. Just let me know when I can get my hands on you too, my love, but I will restrain myself for now, as you so wish."

"My generous hedonist," she murmurs the words into his stomach, runs her hands up and down his sides. 

He laughs at the absurdity of the contradiction and she follows the sound up and up to his neck where she mouths at the faint hint of a pulse he carries still when he's freshly fed. It's not hard to guess what it is that's on her mind, easier still to give her permission. She is, after all, on the side away from his bite scars, considerate as always. One day, he thinks, he wants to try pushing her past consideration, past her boundless concern over him until she takes what she wants from him without asking. He wants her to know, to trust, to believe that he will intervene if he needs but otherwise that she is safe to want, to desire and act upon it. He wants to see her lose control. One day. If she agrees. For now he bares his neck, as she has done for him so many times and as he did the last time on the roof of the Elfsong under the moon. She pauses, waits to see if he's stretching or offering and when she has her answer he can't bite back the moan from escaping as she nips at his skin before latching on, his fingers tug at his own hair to stop himself from reaching for her. She doesn't hurt him, doesn't make him bleed, but she will leave bruises that could last anywhere from an hour to a day depending on his blood intake. 

"Elizia," he groans, arching up into her, enjoying the sensuality of her shirt- his shirt- their fucking ruffled shirt on his bare skin, she rolls skin between her teeth, pinches with her canines then retreats with a pleased hum.

He's relieved to see more life in her eyes when she leans over him, brushes the tips of their noses together before kissing his forehead. 

"Thank you," she says.

"You're done already?" He asks and it comes out far too close to needy for his comfort so of course he tries to cover it up with a flippant dismissal. "Not that you need carry on, I'm glad I could help, of course. And with so little effort required on my part, you may as well have told me to lie back and relax. Though I might have assumed the evening to go a little differently then, I suppose."

"Astarion?" 

"Hmm?" He fears he looks somewhat manic but she's smiling and she was screaming for him and not in the good way not so long ago, one can't blame him if he's a little off his game.

She tugs on his wrists and he stiffly lets go of his hair, keeps very still as she kisses each knuckle all whilst maintaining eye contact. It's like she's looking into his damned soul and he sort of loves it. 

"You can touch me if you want." She lets go of his wrists. "But I can also probably fall asleep on my own now, if you want some space. I...thank you, for giving me this. I'm..."

"Grateful," he offers quietly, twisting his wrists to intertwine their fingers.

"Grateful," she repeats and there's a tinge of sadness to the echo, a misery he knows is growing in her with every bad day, difficult hour or overwhelming moment like the one just passed. 

He wants to roll them over, rest his weight like a heavy blanket over her as she's fondly remarked upon enjoying since they started sharing bedrolls way back in amidst the Shadow Curse. But as with so many things, changes must be made and to do as he wants might hurt her further, a risk he doesn't care to take, quite frankly. Instead he lies her down next to him, relieved when she understands it as the silent request for her to stay that it is, to let herself be cared for. Something she is utterly, profoundly shit at, as he's discovered. He prods her to roll over so he can curl around her back, one arm stretched out under her neck and holding her close, palm pressed against her stomach under the shirt, fingers spread as he feels every shift of her breathing.

"Sleep, pet. Tomorrow we'll try that cloak you bought and it will be a new day."

"A new day," she echoes into the pillow, fingers circling the wrist by her head. 

"Exactly."

[talas-first-lady]

Legends of Tomorrow: the Musical Episode

Brought to you by my obsession with tumblr polls

Note about suspension of disbelief: this is way too many songs to fit into an hour and we are pretending that all cast members are great singers and dancers (but Amy and Tala are still better than the rest of them, obviously).

Last week on Legends of Tomorrow:

The Darhks kidnapped Ray, who made some annoyingly good points about how maybe turning Nora into a vessel for a demon was not the best idea ever. He also sang the entire Singin in the Rain soundtrack. Several times.

The last lost totem of Zambesi was located on Elvis' guitar: the Music Totem. Damien Darhk seized it and realized that this was his chance to fix things with Nora and get the Legends off his back and maybe torture them just a tiny bit but, like, gently.

Episode 3x1???

Ray Palmer wakes up and begins enthusiastically singing about his morning. Seems in character so we aren't really that surprised. Until he heads out of his room and we discover that all the rest of the Legends are also singing and dancing enthusiastically. They sing about how happy they are now that Captain Darhk and Nora are running the ship. Gideon manifests herself in human form so that she can also dance. Both Sara and Zari say "Look, it's hot Gideon!" at different points.

Rip and Ava portal in from the Time Bureau (Rip is also happy to see hot Gideon) with important time business that promptly gets forgotten about because musical numbers!

Things are super awkward between Sara and Ava since they've recently broken up like 3 times about how neither of them believes she deserves to be happy. Everybody's sick of it.

The other Legends invent some nonsense task for them to do to force them to be alone together and talk about things. They sing about things instead. It is an upbeat and ridiculously cute number that involves a lot of dancing. Everyone is happy.

Well, except Amaya, who has forgotten all about Mallus and the totems but is still thinking about what she's learned about her own future. She sings through the big choice she has to make in the library.

Over in the lab, Zari is chatting with Gideon about how they haven't been able to find any loopholes to let her save her family. Gideon leaves, and Zari picks up with the second verse of the song. Both Zari and Amaya duet the last part of the song from their separate parts of the ship.

Mick dozes off in his room. A lifesize Beebo comes to him in his dreams and they perform an elaborate ballet. It's beautiful. He wakes up, grunts, and goes to get another beer.

We check in with Damien and Nora. Damien is clearly very pleased with himself about how everything is going. Nora is feeling a general state of annoyance but isn't sure why.

Rip and Gideon cross paths on the bridge. Rip starts talking to her like no time has passed, and while Gideon is briefly tempted to go along with it, she can't help thinking about how much better things have been under Captain Darhk. He's never flown her into the sun or into an atomic bomb. He's never turned her into a training simulator. She sings, basically verbatim, "Get Out and Stay Out" from 9 to 5 because Amy Pemberton deserves nothing less.

Rip slinks off to the galley, heartbroken. The guys are all hanging out there already. They manage to get the truth out of him and instantly rally around him: Wally talks about his girlfriend going back to a different earth, Nate talks about Amaya leaving on his birthday, Ray brings out his laundry list of failed engagements. Mick is just there to get a beer. Wally reminds Rip of how healing karaoke was for him just a few days ago. They all join forces for a 90s boy band-inspired number about things getting better in the future and trying again. At one point, Rip pulls a saxophone out of the food fabricator and performs the solo from "Careless Whisper."

Ray leaves, feeling pumped about the idea of finding love again, and immediately crashes into Nora.

Zari is starting to get the nagging feeling that something is wrong. She keeps seeing weird flashes of the timeline where Damien and Nora are evil but she doesn't really know what to make of them.

Ray starts singing about how he's been feeling different about Nora ever since their adventure together. Nora is also kind of feeling something but not really ready to admit it. They sing a funny duet with Nora very annoyed with Ray at first but gradually wearing down a bit.

Zari goes to Nate since he was helpful the last time she got stuck in a weird TV trope, but he just thinks she's trying to prank him because what she's saying is completely ridiculous. She goes to Sara next. Ava is also in Sara's room and they have clearly been in there ever since their song finished earlier. Zari explains and Ava is first to believe her since something has also felt off to her. Between the two of them, they manage to pull Sara out of the delusion as well. They split up to talk to everyone else with varying degrees of success.

Damien notices that there are whispered conversations going on around the ship and intervenes, calling everyone for a team meeting. Sara calls him out in front of everyone. He admits the truth in a jazzy villain song. At the end, Nora confronts him and demands that he hand over the Music Totem and stop standing in her way. He reluctantly gives it back and with that, the spell is broken.

The only thing nobody can explain is how Mick ended up with a Beebo in his room.

[silversiren1101]

[Because I'm going through stuff, time to make my blorbos too. A flash of a scene: the immediate aftermath of Minovae using the aeon the restore the bulk of her memories in Act 3...]

Her mind burned.

She couldn't feel the stone beneath her knees. Couldn't hear the concerned voices around her. Couldn't see through the white flash gradually turning red. Couldn't feel the wet heat of the blood soaking her clothing from the mysterious chest wound that'd reopened, of the crimson streaming down her face from her nose and eyes and ears as the Aeon had torn off whatever magic had been suppressing her memories without gentleness or care.

All that existed to her then was that burning, of which two versions of her screamed in unison. The barrier keeping them separated gone, both suddenly occupied the same cramped, burning, bleeding mind. Both were the truth. Both made up her whole.

They should've blended, congealing into a solid singular her. Water meeting more water. Blood into blood.

But only one had stayed conscious through the agony, for agony was the only thing she knew.

All she, this Minovae, knew, was demons.

Distantly, she heard screaming. Distantly, she felt she was clothed. Distantly, she felt no pressure about her wrists and ankles.

No gag. No humiliation. No bindings.

Consciously, none of that mattered with the pain.

Her hands clutched at her head, trying to swat at the agony protected by the bone of her skull. Break it. Shatter it. Get it OUT! Panic and terror choked her from within at the feeling, all so sudden and new and familiar all at once. What was this?! What had they done to her now? Hadn't the demons found every way to have their fun with her by now?! Except—No. No. This pain like a smoldering briar had been dragged through her mind time and time again, like a poker left to turn white-hot in the fire had been driven into every crevice—she knew this pain.

"...Commander...?"

This was that pain. Memories flashed, each agonizing, of her chained in that dungeon in Egorian, of those false Hellknights, those pretenders calling themselves the Glyph...! Their clawed hands raked through her thoughts to find what she'd seen! To find her weaknesses, to find—! NO! They'd already found it: Him. And he was... was... The memories fractured and spiraled. Cold stone pressed against her brow as in reality she crumpled to her hands and knees but she wasn't in reality anymore. Two separate images overlapped in her mind's eye: skin warm as amber yet also grey as stone; molten gold irises turned pale as citrine in a single blink; all so much color and life bleeding out to lifeless grey and white.

"Arangeir! Can you hear me?"

She heard his voice then, too. She recognized it and didn't, because it was wrong. Too much gravel. Too much concern. He didn't feel for her like that to sound that way. She'd given up everything to keep him safe but he didn't know that. He'd never sound like that.

All of this was a trick, she realized. This was yet another cruelty from the demons in the only way they could know amusement and joy. It had to be.

"She's bleeding out! We need to—"

"Careful! Something is wrong. She's not... that's not her."

Different voices. Names welled in her subconscious like a plea to stay away as much as it is a plea for help. 'Seelah... Seelah don't let me hurt anyone... Keep Sosiel away... keep... everyone...'

But the half of her in control didn't know those voices. The half of her in control only heard around her the scheming of demons, watching eagerly to see how this new torment they've devised will play out.

"Minnow! It's okay! It must be so scary but you're not alone! We're here!"

Her heart squeezed in a vise at that high and bright voice. So encouraging. 'Ember, please, run—I can't—'. So clear through the pain, somehow, like...

"Focus, Arangeir! Pull yourself together. I know you can. You're better than this."

But then it was his again. The liar. The scheme. The trick. The torture—

She bolted upright in an instant. She needed to see what horrible creature awaited her in the direction of that voice, so wrong as much as something in her wept that it was the truth. The white flashing of agony had given way to smeared crimson—blood! Had they torn her eyes out and restored them yet again just before death claimed her? How they loved that one—and through them did she see the trick they'd planned for her.

How laughable. He didn't look like that: aged like decades had passed!? Bleached like he'd succumbed to despair?! Staring at her with that mote of concern in those wrongly pale eyes? Not him. Never. She realized the demons had found a way to read through her mind just like House Thrune had, but demons were clumsy and brutish beasts.

The illusion before her was not Regill Derenge. She knew it wasn't.

She knew it was.

Only then did the pain dull then, giving way to a rage she'd never thought herself capable of feeling ever again. All so much torture, everything she'd suffering from devil's hands to those of the Abyss had stolen from her such passion, she'd thought. But these horrid fiends had thought to wield against her the one being she'd never suffer dishonored in such a way. All that she'd given of herself to keep him safe, securing his safety with that infernal brand Thrune pressed upon her...

Her nails dragged across the stone so sharply she may have looked down to see they were still there had she been her other self. Blood filled her mouth from the clenching of her teeth into her snarl, and she realized the demons had also restored her fangs this time with her eyes. How long had she been without them? It didn't matter; time was meaningless in the dungeons beneath Drezen and she wasn't about to let their mistake go to waste.

She would remind them again why they'd torn them from her mouth in the first place.

Every muscle coiled as she pounced, far stronger than she should've been capable of. This body wasn't starved, wasn't weak from torture and despair and nothingness. But the rage kept her from seeing through that veil to the truth, so thin as to be nearly transparent. The rage only drove her forward, flaring even hotter as that face that was not his and yet so very much was briefly flashed in alarm before she made contact with him.

"Arange—!" His voice cut off with a grunt as she tackled him to the ground, as she knocked the wind out of him. He had yet barely breathed in more, barely shouted for her to "—what are you d—!"

Before it all choked into wet, gurgled, gasping.

And it struck her that the wet, crimson heat flowing around her fangs, now buried in his throat, didn't taste as it did the last time she'd wielded them against a demon. It tasted like the one and only other mortal they'd torn through before—of the Thrune whose throat she'd left a hollow ragged gape upon finding out what had become of her stolen Foundlings...

This wasn't demon blood. This wasn't demon flesh.

"Oh, gods! Get her off of him!" Someone yelled, coming to her in her haze as if through water.

She reared back. Everything was shaking. The blood filled her mouth. The blood was everywhere. Splattered across his face that was and wasn't—no, was. Something inside of her screamed, just screamed at her that it was. Arterial red gushed from the ragged gash she'd torn beneath him, covered now by his gauntleted hand applying pressure best he could. Even as blood spluttered from his lips, then streaming, his gaze never faltered. Pale, so wrongfully pale, those yellow irises glared up at her.

She could only shake, paralyzed by them.

"Y-you... fool..."

She wanted to scream. Wanted to disappear. Wanted to... to...

'Go to sleep, Minnow. It's okay. You're scared. You did something bad. But it's okay. Go to sleep and it will all be okay when you wake up.'

Sleep.

She wanted to sleep.

Ember's hex washed over her like a warm bath, taking his blood from her mouth along with it.

[asterefflores]

I like to think that the others underestimate Cale's ( Not Rok Soo's because they've already been traumatized enough, that man needed constant supervision because he just won't stay still) insane creativity at being self-destructive, like I can't find the right words to describe it but Cale, at least in your story, had this air around him that seems like his careful, that they can trust him he won't get hurt, that at least they can trust him with his health because look, he's exercising so that he would be healthy, unlike Rok Soo who would rather skillfully neglect himself until he's nothing but skin and bones, at least we won't have to worry that he'll overwork himself till he faints like a certain someone-

Then BAM-

He just run headfirst into what most likely is his impending doom, fearlessly flirting through unnecessary dangers and throwing himself into certain death and oh- This one isn't different at all, if anything he's worse.

Because at least with Rok Soo, he isn't alone. He'll take Choi Han with him, he had the children with him, he'll bring companions with him when he's feeling like butting in with somebody else's business but this one however, he goes into his suicidal missions by himself, with only his wit and overly destructive powers alone like the crazy bastard that he is.

While I was reading through your story, the chat with Xavian stuck in my head like glue, because to me, it just seemed to be hinting about Cale's personality, that he won't drag others into his mess for their safety, that while he can ask for help he won't because he can't endanger them. I've always felt like the difference between Rok Soo and Cale is that Rok Soo is willing to accept help if it means it'll lighten the burden and finish the job faster while Cale just simply draw the line earky on and do it himself, even if it means it's slow-going.

This rant could be just a bunch of nonsense my brain spits out but I really want this out because I just really love your story, and I enjoy making my own theories about what that and this means, overcomplicating things is my specialty, so hope you won't mind!

Also, I pray for the Alberu in your story because now, he had two crazy bastards as his sworn brothers, it's double the headache. They'll most likely drive him crazy! Poor guy...

No it's not a bunch of nonsense and I like reading theories and deep anylsis on some parts anyone could overlook, please come share your thoughts often lol, and you're right in this, Cale in my story is even worse than Rok Soo. He has this habit where he separates general goal from personal, even if he has his team members let's say, he would only contact and ask them to do something for a mission if it's for their job or something they all aim for, but if it's something he alone is aiming for then he would rather do it by himself than ask their help because it's about him alone so why drag others and most possibly get hurt for his sake?

It's not like he likes to put himself in danger but it's just his past traumas that makes him prefer going around all alone and usually comes out of it unscathed or alive at least.

If his team members insist on helping he would accept it eventually, however not the case with others, he would accept from Rok Soo if not for Choi Han and others surrounding him who could go insane should anything happen to their dear person, he can't trust them not go crazy mad against him even if they are being nice and friendly with him now. Past experiences, again. So if his team members were with him currently in the story the situation would be so different. It all depends on the people around him and how they make him feel and how much they are willing to offer.

And I'm honestly amazed someone remembers Xavian, I'd like to thank you lol

And Cale here is the one driving both Alver and Rok Soo crazy lmao but to be fair, Alver started trouble first this time so he has only himself to blame

[galacticwildfire]

Sad, Beautiful, Tragic | Alicent Hightower

Five

Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!oc

Their fathers sworn enemies, Viserra and Alicent should never have been as close as they were, yet it was a connection neither could fight. What began as an innocent girlhood companionship becomes something scandalous, with the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen showing her true colours. As the dance begins she finds herself torn between her loyalty to her house and her love for her father. Yet neither hold a candle to her forbidden love for the new queen, a love which threatens to destroy them both.

Word count : 4.9k

A/N: okay here we go, steadily moving through the first half of the series



~

~

~

Almost a year has passed since I left Kings Landing, and now it appears I may never return.

Laena is by my side at Driftmark as I overhear my father threatening the maesters outside my door, the fever is taking hold, and I wish I could say I'm not afraid, but I am.

Who knew all it could take to bring down a dragon rider is an ambush upon landing, Darkfyre burned every last one of them but not before they'd managed to put an already bloody knife in my gut and leave me for dead. It was not the blood loss that nearly took me, no, it was the infection as the maesters have deemed it. The skin around the wound agony to touch, as if it's eating away at itself. But the fever- it's the fever that's truly taking hold.

"What do you mean you can't fucking help her!" I hear my father raging and Laena holds my hand tight as Corlys intervenes.

"My maesters can only do so much- she needs the kings maesters. They've treated these wounds on him have they not?"

"His are from the damn throne not from battle," father argues as if it makes a difference and he storms into the room, followed by Colrys. "You are not dying on my watch!"

Never in my life have I seen him so maddened, utterly senseless, but Corlys is right. I need my uncle's maesters. He looks at me, at the festering wound and the sickly shade of my skin, we both know I am dying. 

For my sake he puts aside his spite towards his brother. "Corlys have a ship bring her directly to Kings Landing."

"No, it will take too long," I grit out. "Put me on Darkfyre and we'll make it."

"She's right Daemon," Corlys says. "She has mere days at best, we can't afford to put her at sea."

"You," my father begins with a finger pointed at me. "Are not flying on dragon back in this state. I will take you."

"You're exiled remember?" I remind him and Laena helps me as I attempt to drag myself out of bed. "I'll be damned if I can't fly my own fucking dragon!"

"Viserra," my father warns. "Don't you dare disobey me."

"I'll do as I wish," I mutter, holding on to the wall as I hobble across the room. "I'll be damned if I don't fly on dragonback one last time."

"Fucking hell," he snaps and marches past me to ready Caraxes, and perhaps it's pure spite that keeps me standing as I find my way to the shore, Corlys electing not to order his guards to keep me here as I come to find to Darkfyre who nests on a separate side of the island to Caraxes.

"Darkfyre!" I yell and she hears my call, coming to me and I grip onto the ropes of her saddle, she lays down to make it easier for me as I pull myself up and into the saddle. "Soves."

She lifts off and I hold on, knowing she'd never let me fall and somehow I know she knows where to take me. I look down, my father no doubt raging as I leave but I refuse to die so easily, and if I must it will be on my own terms, not in a damned bed drunk on milk of the poppy.

The journey is a blur, my vision darkening by the moment and only vaguely aware of her beneath me until I see Kings Landing beneath us.

Darkfyre lands at the entrance of the keep and as I go to take a step down the rope ladder my body meets stone and I cry out, laying there in agony as heavy boots rush towards me, the blood in my mouth a bitter reminder I'm still alive.

"By gods it's Lady Viserra!"

Vaguely I recognise the voice of Ser Harrold and I'm lifted up off the ground, my feet dangling in the air and there's movement beneath me, feeling as if I'm on dragonback but my blurred vision takes in the ceilings of the Red Keep.

"Take her to the grand maester now and get the king!" "Uncle," I murmur vaguely and my mind even in its half conscious state goes to her. "Alicent."

It's as I'm carried up a flight of stairs and laid down on sheets I see it's Ser Criston who's carried me.

"My lady-"

"Alicent," I breathe out hoarsely as I'm surrounded by strangers. "I need Alicent."

"Her grace is in bed-"

"Then fucking wake her!" I yell out as the infected flesh of my abdomen is prodded and I'm screaming out bloody murder for her "Alicent!"

"Pin her down!" the lord commander yells and I fight as they go to do just that.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I scream. "Alicent! Rhaenyra!"

I hear light feet run in and through my blurred vision see a blond head come to my side. "Viserra-"

"Get them off of me!" I scream out, fighting the hands that try to hold me down. 

"Her fever is advanced, we'll need nightshade to subdue her."

Rhaenyra holds my hand tight, almost forcing it down.

"Where's Alicent?" I demand to know, needing her. "I need Alicent."

Even through the tears I see the look of hurt and confusion in her eyes at those words. "She- Ser Criston get the queen!"

"I'm here!" I sit up despite the pain at those words, my head whipping around towards the door to see her rush in clutching a large stomach. "Viserra!" She comes to my side, getting down on her knees, and looking at me with horror "Viserra..."

"I couldn't die without seeing you," I whisper to her, not caring for the people surrounding us. "I couldn't die without you."

"Die?" she repeats back to me and looks to the grand Maester. "What-what's happened to her?"

"Your grace you should not be here in this condition," he scolds and I grasp her hand tight, if they want to tear her from me they'll have to kill me. "The babe-"

"What is this!" A voice bellows and the room falls utterly silent as Viserys marches in and he goes pale at the sight of me. "Seven hells-"

"Is Daemon with you?" Rhaenyra asks and even half dead I can't help how my eyes roll into the back of my head. "Viserra-

"I came on Darkfyre," I breathe, grasping Alicent's hand, the only thing keeping me from falling into unconsciousness. "The maesters at High Tide- they couldn't help me."

"Can you save her?" I hear Viserys ask and my head falls to the side, my eyes opening to Alicent's terrified and tearstained face.

"The queen shouldn't be here," is what the maester replies. "The child-"

"I asked if you can save my niece," Viserys repeats sharply. 

I watch Alicent's lip tremble as the maester answers "It is too soon to tell."

"It's okay," I whisper to her so only she can hear. "I'm not afraid."

A lie, I'm utterly terrified. 

"Save her," Viserys orders. "Alicent, you don't want to watch this."

I've seen her again, perhaps that is enough I can die with peace. 

Rhaenyra is the one to take her from me, guiding her out of the room as the grand maester orders. "Four drops of nightshade to put her to sleep, prepare to cut away the infected flesh."

Viserys comes to my side, and it's the fear in his eyes that strikes me as he tells me "You are my brothers daughter, I won't allow him to lose you."

I taste the nightshade on my tongue and the darkness takes me.

~

My body tingles from what can only be milk of the poppy as my eyes begin to open, though it is not enough at the utter ache that possesses me.

"Here," I hear her saying and feel a chalice at my lips. "For the pain."

"I'm not dead?" I murmur in confusion and feel a cool cloth on my forehead.

"No, it seems you're more stubborn than death." My eyes rest on her face as she fusses over me, wiping the sweat from my brow and her voice catches. "This- this is why I didn't want you to leave."

I take her wrist and move her hand from my face, lowing it down onto the bed and covering her hand with my own. She struggles to look at me. "I had to leave."

There is a venom in her eyes that I've rarely seen until now. "You left me to face my wedding night and every night after alone." Her voice trembles with rage. "You left me to face it alone."

Immediately I go to my defence. "You had Rhaenyra-"

"Rhaenyra," she breathes and her jaw clenches. "Rhaenyra has hated me since the day she learned I was to marry the king."

"That can't be right," I say quietly, still struggling with the light let alone making sense of things. "Rhaenyra-"

"Hates me, she won't even look at me," she says and withdraws her hand. "You left me here alone with no one to save me."

"I tried," I grit out and she just shakes her head. "I tried and you refused, so do not blame me for your predicament when I was willing to commit treason to save you from it."

"And yet all I ever asked of you was to stay." Teardrops run down her cheeks. "You were willing to do anything but that."

I feel tears burn in my own eyes but don't regret it, especially not at the sight of her now. "And share you with my uncle? Leave your bed empty for him? No, I would do anything for you but that."

Her voice is stiff. "Then you'll return to the Stepstones once you are well enough to fly." She pushes her chair back and leaves without another word, the coldness that's become her filling the room as I slip back into sleep.

~

Bedridden I wait for her to return, but she does not. It is only Rhaenyra accompanied by Ser Criston who comes to see me.

She sits by my side, asking of the war, telling me of her rides on Syrax. I remember them well, yet they pale in comparison to flying into war reigning down fire from above.

Finally she asks what I've been waiting for her to ask "How is Daemon?"

"Not here," I answer stiffly, having expected him to be following behind me on dragonback, but it seems he cannot bring himself to return home. "But other than that war seems to entertain him."

She nods and her voice is quiet "I've missed you." She reaches for my hand. "Sister."

She has stayed the same, yet I feel as though the girl who flew from the city a year ago is long gone. As is the lover I left behind.

"Alicent never wanted this," I say again and she doesn't want to hear it. "You don't need to be cruel."

"Cruel? That's bold of you," she says harshly and Ser Criston stands there confused, but she doesn't need to remind me. "Then leaving without a word."

 My eyes find themselves on Ser Criston who stands with his head hung, having betrayed his trust in leaving and being bedridden with little energy to fight I concede, although with little effort in actually sounding sorry, "Yes, that was a poor thing to do, my apologies."

But she knows they are empty words. "I needed you here Viserra, my father took a new wife and now means to replace me with Alicent's child. I needed you by my side-"

"Yes, you and Alicent both," I murmur offhandedly. "I never knew the both of you held me so dear."

"You knew we did," she replies, heat in her voice. "Although I never knew just how much Alicent did."

I raise an eyebrow. "And I never knew you shared the same affection for her."

She stands, having had enough. "Come Ser Criston."

He follows after her like a dog, again leaving me alone. Rhaenyra and I were raised together, more sisters than cousins, we fight and we forget, it's not her anger I worry for.

With the silence boredom quickly sets in, missing the company of Laenor and Laena. Missing my father.

Missing my dragon.

And so definitely against the maesters orders I pull myself out of bed and dress myself in a simple gown considering it's more comfortable than the riding clothes I've been accustomed to wearing. It feels strange after dressing in men's clothing for so long.

I gulp down the remainder of the milk of the poppy before finding my way through the halls of the castle, people surprised to see me but not questioning it after landing on dragon outside the keep. I've almost made it to the exit when I hear her voice.

"Viserra?" I still having been caught and turn to see Alicent standing there holding her stomach. "You should be in bed."

"I was bored," I answer truthfully and she gives me an exasperated sigh.

"Bored? What are you, a child?"

"Yes, as are you although you may be carrying one," I remind her and she only looks annoyed. "Does the queen forbid me from going on a walk?"

"The queen forbids you from going to the dragon pit," she answers, knowing me too well. "Darkfyre is being taken care of."

"She hasn't seen me since we arrived, she'll be fretting."

She breathes in heavily and hobbles over, clearly uncomfortable with every step. "She will be fine, you need to rest."

"I need to get out of that room," I retort. "Four days I've been in there now."

"You spent two of those unconscious."

"Yes, exactly," I reply and she rolls her eyes. "I could say you should be resting."

"I am nine months pregnant, I can't rest, I'm in a permanent state of discomfort."

"So you're due any day then," I realise and she nods, my stomach drops at what that could mean and I negotiate. "Let me come be with you, it's been far too long since I've been with you."

Her eyes soften and she gives me a pained smile. "I would like that."

I wrap an arm around her, helping her as we go back through the castle to her rooms, I open the door and help her over to the lounge chair where I sit her down, remembering well how much discomfort Aemma was always in. 

"Is that alright?' I ask her, putting a pillow behind her back.

"That's good, thank you," she says and I sit down beside her, remembering too well it was less than two years ago Aemma lay there and look around, the room noticeably absent of maesters.

"Where are your attendants?"

"The last thing I want is to be surrounded by midwives and maesters when I'm like this," she answers. "And they aren't as worried as they were with our last queen, this is my first child, they believe it will be healthy."

I was my mothers first and she still died in the childbed, but I do not remind her of it. I don't want to frighten her. 

"I hope so," I tell her, the most genuine words I've spoken in a long time. "Let's hope for a boy and it will be the last time."

She just laughs, but there's a sadness to it "No, they'll fill me up until I can't carry another, you know how it is." 

Unfortunately I do, and yet it is something I'll never have to experience myself.

"Well is queen at least all you thought it would be?" I ask and she only frowns. "I guess not."

"I'm the wife of a king, hardly a queen," she tells me. "Maybe that will change when I give him a son, maybe then they'll respect me but it feels these past months as if I've just been confined to these rooms, maesters coming every day to ensure I'm still with child."

"It must be awful," I say quietly and she looks at me, the first anyone ever said those words to her. "You don't have to pretend with me Alicent, I know you never wanted this, you don't have to pretend as if you do."

Some of the tension leaves her body and there are tears in her eyes as she tells me "When the maesters told me I was pregnant... I was relieved. I was relieved because it meant he wouldn't summon me to his chambers at night anymore." She rubs a hand over her stomach. "I'm scared for when the baby comes because I don't want it to start again."

I feel ill, I feel the guilt creeping to the surface at leaving her to face those nights alone because I was too selfishly weak to face them with her.

"I'm sorry Alicent," I say quietly. "I'm sorry for what's happened to you." Tears slip down her cheeks and I reach for her hand, bringing it to my lips. "I'm sorry for everything. I-"

The door opens and Viserys enters, Alicent quickly pulls her hand away and he's none the wiser. "Ah Viserra, glad to see you out of bed, I can't say the same for my dear wife." He laughs at his own joke and Alicent fakes a smile. "Do tell your father- tell him that he is welcome home as long as he recognises Rhaenyra as my heir."

I lower my eyes as I tell him "Then I'm afraid he will not be returning home." There is no gentle way to put it and I see the disappointment in his eyes. "The disinherentment was one thing, but the war... it isn't just a farce to keep him entertained, and he will not set his sights on the city until it is won."

"Well," he sighs. "I hope at least you will stay at court, it is no place for a lady out there."

I see the fear flicker in Alicent's eyes, the fear of me leaving and I clear my throat "We will see." I stand and bow my head to Alicent. "Rest well."

I find my way out, a sadness in me that no longer can I spend endless nights with her without anyone daring to look for us, without intrusion. Those days are over. 

~

The walk to the dragon pit is one filled with a quiet agony as the milk of the poppy begins to wear off, but the city seems to have remembered me, or rather my father.

Ser Harwin seems to have taken over as Commander of the city watch as he greets me in the street. "My lady, glad to see you home, how fares your father?"

"Better than I," I answer, no doubt word has spread quickly since seeing a dragon landing at the steps of the Red Keep. "I trust the fear of the gods my father struck into the city still remains."

"Aye," he answers, walking with me. "A knife in the stomach I hear?"

"Ambushed when climbing off my dragon, I killed who I could, Darkfyre did the rest but the damage was done. Lord Corlys's maesters couldn't treat me, so I took things into my own hands."

"Made quite the entrance if I recall," he says proudly. "Your father always wanted to train you up to be tough, bringing you down into the city with him, it's not surprising he made you a soldier." That brings a smile to my face. "Tell me, do you fight with a sword or on dragonback?"

"Both," I answer as I'd told Rhaenyra. "Although truthfully I prefer dragonback, Lord Corlys's son Laenor and I often fly together in battle, doing what we can from above whilst the soldiers fight on the ground."

"And is that where you're going now?" he asks me. "Walking injured through the city to sneak off to the dragonpit."

"Yes," I answer. "Though don't drag me back to the castle, I don't intend on leaving yet. I just want to see my dragon."

"Don't fret I'm not a Kingsguard," he reminds me as we come to the Dragonpit. "Would you like to be escorted back to the castle?"

"I dare say I'll take a horse back," I assure him. "Thank you Ser Harwin."

"My lady," he says, nodding his head as I enter inside the Dragonpit, having always found Ser Harwin agreeable but he's quickly forgotten as I step inside and see her.

It's a relief, and I know it's one she shares as she lowers her head, almost to nuzzle into me. A bond between a dragon and their rider... there is nothing else in the world like it. 

"Has an egg been chosen for the babes cradle?" I ask the dragon keeper who stands nearby.

"Not yet, my lady."

I nod and ask "May I?"

He doesn't dare refuse me and brings me to the clutch of dragon eggs, one of white and gold with flecks of pink catches my eye. Pure, beautiful. My father had chosen mine, a fearsome one of red and black, even as a babe he knew I'd be fire and blood. But I can't help the tenderness I feel at the sight of the egg, a tenderness Alicent needs in her life.

I take it in my hands and tell the dragon keeper "I choose this one for the king's new child."

I can sense the hesitance after my father robbed them of their last egg, but my intentions are nothing but pure.

"As you wish my lady."

~ The next morning I go to see her, finding her resting in that damned chair utterly miserable, but she smiles at the sight of me.

"How are you faring?' she asks me, noticing I'm walking easier than before.

"The milk of the poppy is certainly a help," I tell her and her brows draw together in confusion at what I carry, the egg wrapped in fine cloth. "I brought something for you."

"For me?" she asks in surprise and falls quiet as I unwrap it for her. "Oh."

"Your child will be a Targaryen, it's only right to carry on tradition," I tell her and place it in the crib at the end of her bed. "The colours, they seemed pure, bright. It only felt right that I choose this one, gods know it's what you need in your life. A child that will bring you joy."

I look back at her and see the tears in her eyes, tears she does not attempt to wipe away as she tells me "I'm afraid Viserra. Any moment now the babe could come and I- I'm not ready to die in the child bed."

I walk over and kneel down before her, taking her hand in mine, noticing the red surrounding her nails. "You won't, I won't let you."

She just laughs sadly "You can't stop the will of the gods Viserra, as hard as you may try."

I wear an equally sad smile. "No, but I'll be here by your side. That I promise you."

She looks at me with hesitance. "You won't leave me again? You won't disappear in the night?" 

I shake my head and bring her hand to my lips. "How can I leave you? Certainly not like this."

"Thank you," she breathes and I look at the girl I love, a girl who is no longer mine to love if she ever was, but I'll be damned if I lose her. "Viserra I-" it's then she hisses in pain "Ah!"

"Alicent?" I ask as she hisses. "Are you alright?"

"Just a contraction, I get them often, the maesters say they are nothing to worry about," she insists then cries out. "No- this one's different." 

It's then I notice fluid wetting the chair and panic. "It's coming." She looks up at me and immediately I spring into action, running to the door where Ser Harrold stands and telling him "Get the midwives, now!"

I run back to Alicent who's trying to climb out of the chair to the bed and I grab her arm. "Come on." I help her over to the bed where she grabs onto the bed post, beginning to hyperventilate and I start at the laces at the back of her heavy gown. "Let's get you out of this." She helps me pull it off her as the midwives come into the room and lay her down in her shift, the maesters following quickly behind.

"Has anybody gotten the king?" I ask one of the maesters.

"His grace is celebrating with the Lord Hand and will be informed she has begun her labours," he answers, and I realise Viserys won't be coming. "Her water has broken?"

"Yes," I answer and he ignores me to go to her, she lays there on the bed surrounded by almost a dozen people yet her eyes meet mine in panic as they pull her legs open and so I come by her side, on my knees and holding her hand tight. "Just look at me okay? Everything will be alright."

It's then she whispers to me with fearful eyes "Don't let them cut me open like they did Aemma."

I go cold at those words and swear to her "I'd cut down every man and woman in this room before letting a blade touch you."

And I mean those words, she knows I do.

For hours I stay by her side, never letting go of her hand as she suffers through the labour, watching closely the faces of the maesters and midwives as she screams. No one dares tell me to leave as I grip her hand tight, telling her she'll make it through this unlike our mothers.

Finally as night falls the babe comes out screaming and she falls limp on the bed, the babe being carried away by the maester and I press my lips to her sweaty forehead, still holding her hand. "You did it, you're both okay."

Her head falls towards me and we both smile, it's me the maester hands the babe to as the midwives sit Alicent up in bed and look down at him before I pass him to her. "A boy."

With those words I see both the relief and devastation those words bring her and she whispers "Rhaenyra-"

I shake my head, stroking her wet hair out of her face. "Shh, all will be well."

She looks down at her son as if she doesn't quite know how to feel, and then flinches, crying out "It's starting again."

"The afterbirth," a midwife says and she passes me her boy as she begins crying out again, I look down at the screaming babe in my arms, white whisps of hair on his head, it takes me a moment to realise he isn't just Alicent's son but my cousin just as Rhaenyra is.

As the afterbirth passes and the midwives clean it away the door flies open and Otto marches in, visible relief at the fact his daughter still lives and I turn to him with the babe in my arms, he stares at me holding his grandchild in horror, utterly unaware I was even here with her.

"The king has a son," I tell him and he pulls the babe from my arms as if my very touch is poison.

"A son," he repeats and smiles at his daughter, pale in the childbed. "Well done my daughter." 

"Let me hold him," she says, reaching out but he ignores her.

"I must take him to the king," he says immediately and gives Alicent a nod, pleased she's fulfilled the duty he forced upon her and leaves with the babe. It's then I see Rhaenyra in the doorway as the midwives check Alicent, making sure she isn't bleeding more than she should be.

Quickly I duck out the door and she pulls me aside "Well?"

There's both hope and worry in her eyes, and I know why.

"I'm sorry," I tell Rhaenyra. "It's a boy."

I watch her face change and she blinks away tears as if she's in pain. "A boy?"

I nod, having sworn my oath to her as my heir, an oath I still believe in. "I'm sorry."

"Viserra," I hear Alicent calling out and I apologise "I'm sorry."

I leave Rhaenyra to return to Alicent, who only then see Rhaenyra marching past back down the hall and her voice fills with panic. "Is she angry? Is she-"

"She knows, but she's still our named heir," I say, the maesters and midwives both eyeing me with particular carefulness at those words. "She will know that."

She nods, and reaches for my hand as the midwives cool her with wet clothes, utterly weary.

"Here," I say taking the cloth from the midwife as the others finish running her a cool bath. "I'll watch over her as she rests."

The maester nods and the midwives leave the room, the grand maester checks her over one last time before finally leaving her to rest and I kiss her head as they leave the room.

"It's over now," I tell her, lips brushing her temple. "You did so well."

"I think I'll want to sleep for days," she breathes, both of us laughing quietly before whispering in pain. "I don't want to have to do it again."

"Shh, don't think about that now," I tell her, helping her sip from a cup of water, her body still shaking as I help her lower her legs back down after being bent for hours. "You need to rest."

She doesn't argue with that, but murmurs "I'm sweaty and awful."

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," I say and help her from the bed, stripping her of her shift which clings to her skin and with some painstaking effort get her into the bath without causing her too much pain. "There you are."

Her head rests against the tub as I take a cloth and begin cleaning her, wiping the blood and all else from between her legs and rubbing sweet smelling lotion into her scalp, absentmindedly focused on the motions until she takes my hand and looks up at me with weary but beautiful eyes.

"Viserra." She says my name like a prayer. "I love you." I still and search her eyes, finding only truth. "I love you truly, I should have told you it long ago then maybe you would have stayed."

I smile sadly, tears in my eyes. "I always knew. I know your heart Alicent, better than mine."

She's pleading now "So you'll stay?"

For her own sake I nod, even though I have no idea what the next hour will bring, let alone what tomorrow brings. "I will."

She reaches for me, pulling me down until my lips meet hers. It's what I've dreamed of every night since I left her and now- now my heart is simultaneously whole and broken at the thought of what comes after this.

Masterlist

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freshmoneyalmondathlete jedi-athen-orion mlwriting5 memarrymilf megagayzone90 cupcakeexplosion pawiiefreshmoneyalmondathlete levis-butterfingers sansaery-theonsa soulmateshuh luckyplums1 mlwriting5 memarrymilf cupcakeexplosion freshmoneyalmondathlete fuckinglittlekitten

[horizon-verizon]

The thing is that I know we can get into murky, armchair diagnosis territory when we start making judgements about people based on their opinions on fiction. But... it does often hold weight when forms of bigotry and even internalized bigotry are involved. Because I've known several people both in real life and from other online communities who were die-hard Sansa fans and weirdly hated Dany, and now some of them are Alicent stans / Rhaenyra haters. Because the love for one always goes with hate for another.

And... they've always been people who, to say this nicely and vaguely, take a very passive approach to trauma and hardship sometimes to a frustrating degree. And the way they'll talk or write about these fictional women often mirrors the way they talk about themselves. And there's a good part of me that suspects they see themselves in these passive women and the patriarchal fantasy of one day being rewarded for passively enduring your hardships. It's basically internalized misogyny tied on with real life pain that they channel through fiction because, as I said, they're often either quite passive or quite... "my pain should be centered at all times but I refuse to extend that empathy I demand to others" in real life.

Which is why I honestly don't think there's any sense in... trying to talk sense into a lot of these people. They're channeling feelings from their real life that they've not addressed in their real life, and they're so obstinate about it that they're not the kind of people who would ever see it as a chance to examine how they feel about their own life. Because for them, characters like Sansa and Alicent validate their own feelings about their own lives, while Dany and Rhaenyra challenge them and therefore must be destroyed in order to protect that validation, and they're simply not the kinds of people willing to rethink, or even be aware, of what they're doing.

That's why they get so passionate while also refusing true criticism. It's why they'll bend over backwards into hypocrisy. It's why, after the raging incels and open bigots, they're the most unpleasant people to deal with online and honestly make these spaces hostile. Because in their eyes, they're defending themselves while refusing to either separate themselves or reevaluate themselves. In some ways, that actually makes them quite similar to the open bigots — it's just more insidious.

Basically, they can't be reasoned with through critical analysis. Because it's personal. And... I don't know what do do aside from try to avoid them. And they make that extremely difficult.

They're channeling feelings from their real life that they've not addressed in their real life, and they're so obstinate about it that they're not the kind of people who would ever see it as a chance to examine how they feel about their own life. Because for them, characters like Sansa and Alicent validate their own feelings about their own lives, while Dany and Rhaenyra challenge them and therefore must be destroyed in order to protect that validation, and they're simply not the kinds of people willing to rethink, or even be aware, of what they're doing. [...] Basically, they can't be reasoned with through critical analysis. Because it's personal.

This ask may come in response to this reblog I made.

This ask reminds me of somethings finitefall wrote way back HERE & HERE.

I'd add that there is much white feminism, esp when we only talking abt HotD...which is most of the time. And this really seals it n how nearly useless and futile it is to try, I know. Esp since they refuse to really admit or examine themselves to the point they get offended at the mere word "racism". Or "misogynoir".

You're right of course. I know that there's a futility to it unless they go through some spiritual moment or forced into a situation where they get some sort of epiphany, idk. The only thing I can think of is to say "and what if this were you", but it already has been or is and they think the best bet is total complicity and complacence! This also explains why they love all this passive accident writing style, bc they already feel that their own lives could never be in their control.

And sometimes I get too annoyed and need to "set the record straight" so to speak. I maintain that I don't try as often as I could to really lay some people in, just reblog them and tag it with "example of green stan nonsense" or "team green thoughts" whether I agree or disagree while here and there I actually make counterarguments to what I read. My annoyance will not allow me to ignore some posts, though, esp if soemthing they say really disturbs me.

[harryforvogue]

Part Two | Chapter Eleven: Summer Rain

Bellefonte, Pennsylvania

July 1919

Harry spends most of his time in the library in his aunt and uncle's house, hovering over the selection of books, mainly the ones that have been translated in recent years. They've been checked out or bought at the bookstore I visited, but the library the family has in their own home is a few of the most recent ones, from last year. As I watch him hunch over the shelf and run his fingers over the spines of the book curiously, I see a glimmer of the man from England who I married.

His long legs carry him over between shelves, one hand tucked into his pocket, a crease between his eyebrows as he reads each title, making a face of interest or distaste, and then continues on, either tucking the book under his arm or focusing on a separate selection altogether. The books don't have covers, and I can't tell which he's found to be the most interesting until he comes to sit on the couch opposite of me and open the book, showing the gleam of the metallic title.

If I pressed about it now, he'd vehemently argue against it, but Harry once loved romance novels and would send them to me, or buy us both a pair so we could read together. He used to enjoy listening to me read them out loud, the sun in his face as he laid his head on my thigh under that same willow tree in the park down the street from his house, a slightly smile on his face when I lowered or increased my voice to impersonate the tone of the narrator or speaker. He'd turn his head into my stomach and nuzzle his face, throwing an absent arm behind my back to make sure my spine wasn't aching from sitting on the ground against the tree roots after hours.

We'd return home slightly more tan than before, only realizing when Harry would remove his rings at night before sneaking to my room at night, the pale skin under contrasting with the now slightly browned skin. After laying together, I'd run my fingers over the smooth skin, pressing my fingers against his to measure and play with his digits. It would be similar to a fresh breath of air after being confined in a prison for so long, laying on his chest and listening to the gentle hum of his heartbeat as his breathing shallow and he fell asleep.

Harry looks up at me, frowning. "What?"

I blink, my eyes dry and aching. "Sorry. I was just...thinking."

Harry closes his book and pushes it off his lap, crossing his ankles.

We've been at Geraldine and Jared's for five days now and since our argumentative discussion, I've caught him glancing down at my ring finger as often as he tries to hold a conversation with me.

His eyes wander as we speak, from my face to my hands, to his lap and anywhere else except my eyes, back tightened uncomfortably to the point where I want to reach over and hold his hand to tell him that it's alright and that he doesn't need to push himself this much.

Harry's said something that I haven't caught while thinking to myself, and I blink again, saying, "What was that?"

"I said," Harry repeats slowly, running his fingers over the smooth cover of his book. "What were you thinking of?"

"Oh." My ears feel slightly hot. "How you used to make me read to you in London."

His expression changes to a look of surprise. "Right," he says, almost dreamily. "I remember that. Seems like ages ago."

It seems like ages to him, but for me it was just yesterday. I would pause in between sentence to gaze down at him, admiring his beauty from his straight eyebrows to the dark wisps of his curls that refuse to fall in line with his partition, the freckles that I suspected only came out in the summer even though I didn't know how he looked in the winter. His head felt heavy in my lap, my legs already gone to sleep. I'd drop a hand into his hair and run my fingers clumsily through the strands, pulling a little too roughly when met with resistance from his curls.

Harry notices my discomfort, so he frowns down at the brown book beside him. "I'd ask you to read this book out loud, but I'm afraid it's not a very fun read."

"What's it about? Something boring and history related?"

He looks offended. "The 1909 New York City Labor Strikes."

"Is that what interests you?"

"Presently, yes."

"Couldn't find anything more...light?"

"None that I wanted," he says, leaning back. "Why? Do you want to read it out loud?"

"No," I answer. "But if you wish to recommend it to me once you're done, I'll be here."

Harry nods. "Will do."

He looks down at his book, but doesn't open it, drumming his fingers over it. He presses his tongue into his cheek and then drops his shoulders, glancing up at me again. I meet his eyes over my book and look at him, waiting for his voice.

"Your accent," he says, frowning. "You're losing it a bit."

I smile teasingly. "Do I sound American?"

"Yes."

"Does that bother you?"

He looks conflicted, biting his cheek. "Yes and no. While I prefer it American, I can't help but miss the accent." He looks away, his neck flushed. "It is you, after all."

"So why do you prefer it to be more American?" I clear my throat and bring back my natural accent. "I've found that since my accent is so hard to understand, I need to speak more American. More harsh, I guess. L'anglaise est très ridicule."

He frowns at the sound of my voice. "Annaliese," he says slowly, "if I tell you something, will you promise not to probe me about it? I can't discuss it in detail. No matter how ridiculous it sounds."

I pause, suddenly both intrigued and worried. "Sure," I say, despite my habit of poking around until I know everything.

Harry takes a deep breath and says, still slowly, "When you speak to me in French, or how you did just now, speak with your accent, it brings back the most awful memories of when I was in France."

Struck with confusion at his confession, I put my book down and raise my eyebrows. "I can't control that."

He hastily holds his hands up in defense. "I know. That's why I didn't want to tell you. It's the worst thing for a husband to say to his wife, but...in an effort to be more communicative and open as we discussed previously, I figured you should know."

"So what should I do?" I say before I can stop myself. "What do you want me to do about that?"

How many times have I triggered his memory with my voice, with my French that leaks into my speech without realizing? I bite down on my thumb.

"It's not your fault. I'm not asking you to stop talking altogether. I just, well, I just hope you're not upset about me saying I prefer one accent over the other." He ducks his head timidly, and drops his gaze to the floor.

"That's not what I'm upset about. I'm not upset, actually. Just concerned. I don't want to hurt you, but I can't control this. And I don't know some words in English, so I need to say them in..."

Harry cuts me off, shaking his head. "Wait, no no. Stop for a second. I didn't say you had to stop bloody talking or anything. You can do whatever you want. It's just--well-- it's quite difficult to be around you, given your accent and the French and all." His tone is harsher suddenly, his eyes turning away.

This certainly doesn't help minimize my concern, my own eyes widening to their capacity. "Christ. It's hard to be around me for this reason?"

"Well." Harry looks uncomfortable. "Not only this reason."

"Oh good God. What other reason?"

He backpedals quickly, shaking his head. "It's not a long list. Just small things like--" He stops. "It's nothing."

"Like me talking?"

"Well," he repeats, anxiously sitting back, crossing his legs. "I can't help that, Annaliese. You can understand that, can't you? Be reasonable."

"You want me to be reasonable? I am. Please tell me how to fix it."

"I don't think you can fix it." The tips of his ears are slightly pink as he flushes with a bit of irritation. "You can't help it just like I can't help it."

"I want you to be comfortable, so I think we should think about how to work on this. I can try my best to not speak French, but it may slip out. The accent, though, I can't do anything about. You know I'm ready to work on us, Harry. Tell me what else bothers you that I do."

There's a tense silence before Harry speaks again. "It's hard for me to be around you for a number of reasons, Annaliese, and this is a more reasonable one."

I'm trying my hardest not to sound upset, but he reads my face well. "Tell me the other reasons why you can't be around me."

Harry pauses for a minute, his eyes turning distant. "No."

I stay quiet trying to figure out my next words. This conversation is never one I thought I'd have with Harry. To me, I don't believe I'm being overbearing. I have moments where I get too upset with Harry and it translates to irritation, but for the most part, I believe that my suggesting we have a conversation is not something a married couple should be struggling with.

Like Harry, I have my own fears. The thought of Harry leaving me for reasons he can't tell me flashes through my head. Pain prickles at my throat when it tightens.

"What do we do about this vacation, Harry? If being with me is so..."

He meets my eyes for a brief moment before looking away at the bookshelves. "I invited you because you're my wife and you need to be here with me."

"Your wife?" I repeat, the uncomfortable feeling creeping over my body again like it did the night of our previous argument. "You can't stand me. You can't even look at me."

His head tilts back in my direction, but his eyes don't meet mine.. "That's not what I said at all."

"I don't understand anything you're saying then." I swallow, waiting for him to look at me and explain what he thinks of our relationship. "You said it would be okay if I wanted to leave you just a few days ago. And now you're telling me you brought me with you because I'm your wife and you need me to be here. Harry, I don't think you know what you want."

He doesn't say anything to disagree.

"I think for the sake of this marriage, we need to figure out our next step. And if it won't be done in a conversation together, then maybe you need time on your own to consider our situation right now. I have never wanted to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. If it's something you want me to stop doing, you know I'll agree to it. We've stopped sleeping together or in the same room. We rarely talk. We're doing everything your way, so please just figure out what you want and let me know. I know what I want and I think it's time you know what you want."

Harry doesn't answer again. I put my books down on my seat and slowly rise, fixing my clothes.

"I'm ready to talk about it whenever you'd like. I'll give you all the time in the world, Harry. And all the space because I love you and want you to be okay. But not talking to me at all or telling me what you want me to change about the way we're currently living isn't fair to me."

Slowly, I stride to the door of the library and exit. Harry's normally the one to walk away from a conversation, but the thought of making him uncomfortable with my presence makes my skin itch with something I can't describe: a mixture of helplessness and disappointment.

***

After leaving the house, I head into town, unaware of the dark skies as I keep my gaze down on my boots while I walk.

Harry's words echo in my head over and over. It's hard for him. It's unbearable. I am unbearable to him.

The burn in my thigh happens when I begin the uphill climb, the checkered pavement disappearing into the asphalt on the road. This is when I realize I've walked past the town square and the shop I intended on visiting. It's a surprise at first, but when I look back to see the house barely visible, the urge to continue until the house is over the hill becomes powerful.

The sun disappears behind the clouds, and it becomes apparent, I realize as I walk, that I will be getting drenched by the cold summer rain within the next few minutes. Unable to do anything but embrace it with my lack of umbrella or durable hat, I walk slower. The air smells fresh and cleaner the more distance I put between the residential area and I.

The field I find myself on is already quite soggy, the heels of my boots sinking into the mud the further I venture. I wonder why Grace hasn't decided to take me to this particular field as it's larger and extends over more acres than the other one. It's not littered with trees and crunching branches either, green and fading brown prevalent. It's all I can see as I hold a hand up to peer over the land more closely. There's not a single person around me, the sound of traffic now deafened, and the sights breathtaking and so very country.

I inhale deeply and look up at the sky with my eyes closed as soon as the rain begins to pour, catching me off guard. The scent is salty, but the wind is still warm. It's quite comforting, a distinction from the otherwise scorching heat I've become accustomed to. The cold rain soothes any sun burns I may have.

The memory of summers in France back with my parents takes me violently. Nearly every year, it would rain on my birthday. It became a tradition to admire the rain and then run in it, dancing and laughing with my friends. The rain would be the same temperature as it is right now, but more enjoyable.

It hits me suddenly that I miss my parents. They have never been helpful, but simply telling them about what's happening to Harry would help me. After all, being in a foreign country makes you realize how lonely one can be when nobody around them is familiar.

The drizzle eventually turns into a heavier pour, and my shivering increases.

It's time to go back home, I decide, pulling my coat tighter against my body, beginning the walk back. The wetter ground pulls me by the heels of my boots into the earth, however, with determined strides, I refuse to let myself slide into the mud. That would be quite the sight, waddling back into the clean house completely dirty.

A part of me, though, wants to lay down in the soft mud and seek sanctuary.

The rain continues harder as I shuffle back into town, thoroughly drenched now. The cold has settled in and I cannot walk without stopping for a few moments just to tremble. The hat on my head droops with the weight of the water, causing the droplets at the brim to slide down the back of my neck and into my shirt. I feel every drop on my spine, and no amount of wiping will help as the back of my shirt is wet and cold on my skin already.

By the time I'm back home, I can barely feel my fingers, and I raise my hand to forcefully knock on the wood door. It takes a few moments until the door swings open to reveal Aunt Geraldine. Her eyes widen immediately and she gasps, tugging me in quickly, locking the door behind me.

"Annaliese!" She helps the shoes off my feet and then shuffles me to the carpet in the foyer to avoid any more cold from the hardwood floor. "Summer rain," she mutters. "How awful. Nothing a hot bath can't fix, though. Not to worry."

"It's quite alright." I whisper, teeth chattering. "Did it to myself." I send her a smile. "I knew it was going to rain. It's okay."

As she guides me to the staircase, Harry's departing from the library, and he catches my trembling frame. He tosses the books he's holding onto the nearest table and reaches forward, grabbing my elbow.

"Christ's sake," he says, a twinge of surprise in his voice. "Why didn't you come back sooner? I told you this morning that it was going to start raining soon and we shouldn't go to town."

I shake his hand off my elbow and turn my body away, climbing the stairs slowly. "It's okay. I knew it was going to rain."

Harry ignores me, climbing the stairs behind. "You're going to catch a cold. Why didn't you come back earlier if you knew?"

"Didn't think it would be so heavy."

Once I get to my room, I step in and expect Geraldine to accompany me, but when I turn, it's only Harry and he shuts the door behind him. When he's upset, his face is flushed and his eyes dangerously bright.

"You shouldn't have walked away from me. We don't do that," Harry says, making me sit on the bed. "When have we ever done that? You tell me to never run away, but look at you. You're no better than me."

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that he is just mad and doesn't mean what he's saying. I try not to take it to heart, but when he says that I'm no better than him, it makes me realize just how negatively he thinks of himself.

"I'm okay," I repeat. "I'm just gonna take a bath."

Harry disappears from my view. I hear the water rushing into the tub, Harry hissing as he touches the hot water. He returns with another towel and drapes it over my hair, rubbing my scalp with it.

"Were you so angry that you felt the need to run from me? Fuck's sake, Annaliese. You don't think things through at all sometimes."

"Harry," I say. "I'm okay. Calm down. I didn't run from you. Just took a walk."

From the way he makes a frustrated sound from the back of his throat, I know I'm in for it.

"You had no reason to leave the house. I have been so fucking honest, Annaliese." He crouches down in front of me and finally keeps eye contact with me. "I have been honest with you since the day that I came back. I told you that night at the station that things will be different and I will be unable to help them, alright? How many times have I told you that? You haven't changed a bit, you know? Still as stubborn as always."

I let the words settle in before answering quietly. "That makes two of us."

"What?"

"You're just as stubborn as I am." I look down at my wedding ring, twisting it gently. "God, Harry. What do you want me to do? Apologize? I will. I'm sorry. For what, I'm not sure because you don't want to tell me."

"Understand," he says, exasperated. "Just try to think of what I'm going through."

"I can't though," I say, shaking my head some more. "I don't know what you're going through. Maybe I'd understand better but... Maybe I'm being selfish trying to force you to do things you don't want, but that's not how it is in my eyes."

"And how is it in your eyes?" He's rubbing his forehead tensely, glancing at the ceiling.

"I'm thinking baby steps could help you. Help you heal."

"I don't need to heal, Annaliese. I've told you that."

"What do you need then, Harry?" I exclaim, crossing my arms. Water drips from my hair onto him. "Because I can't figure it out so please spell it out for me."

Harry and gazes at me quietly for a minute. "Time," he finally says softly. "I just need time. I need to forget about it and then everything else will follow."

"You think you're just going to wake up one day and forget all about it like it was some sort of dream? Christ's sake, Harry, you still think about how your childhood was!" I'm hitting nerves, but it's to prove my point. "You still think about your father when you dream! You think I wouldn't notice the way you cry out when you used to sleep next to me? How can you still think of something that happened 10 years ago and then expect to stop thinking about something that happened not even a year ago!"

He puts his face in his hands and exhales, shoulders dropping. "What," he whispers, "do you suggest I do then?" His puts his forehead against the mattress besides my knee.

I raise a hand and hover it over the back of his neck, ready to massage the tension away. Hesitating at the last moment, I pause and draw my hand back to my lap.

"I want to help you," I tell him honestly. He picks his head up and looks at me, his eyes filled with tears. The sight breaks me. He bites the inside of his lip and doesn't bother to wipe away a tear dripping down his cheek and onto his lap.

"I get that," he whispers. "But please don't push me. I can't control my emotions when you push me, and you..." He takes a shaky breath. "I can't lose control of my emotions with you. I can with anyone else, but not you."

"Maybe we can start slow. But you have to tell me what bothers you about me. I can change for you."

"Don't want you to change. I am the one who needs to change."

"Harry, we're back at square one then."

"It's not like everything about you bothers me. I want to be close to you, but I know I can't be. I shouldn't be. You're so warm. You're my wife. I want to be with you, but I'm not... I'm not good right now. And I don't want to ruin you because you're so good." Harry's eyes well with tears again, his chest struggling to take a breath. "This is making no sense. It's not making sense to me either," he whispers, shaking his head desperately. "God. You're right. I don't know what I want."

"I know," I answer softly, hand twitching to touch him again. I gently raise my hand and hold it over his face, not quite touching. More tears slide down and I realize this is what he means by not letting his emotions get out of control. The tears show no sign of stopping.

Harry understands my intentions and darts his eyes from my hand to my face, unsure. Slowly, he tilts his head closer and lets the back of my fingers catch the remainder of his tears from his cheek. His eyes flutter shut as a smile passes over my face. I don't want to try my luck, so once the tears are eradicated, I remove my hand and his eyes open.

"I'm sorry Annaliese. I want to be better. I'm sorry for getting angry at you. That was ridiculous of me. And for everything I said in the library. It's not you. It's still me."

"I think it's both of us," I whisper sincerely. "You're going to be okay. I'm going to make sure of that. And if not," I shrug my shoulders, "well, then we're just going to try harder."

Harry stands up and sits besides me. His long body stretches, the ends of his shirt riding up to show beautiful pale skin, unmarked and soft. A slight trail of hair is visible for half a second. "You're not going to give up on me, are you?"

I can't help but laugh, standing up to head to the bathroom. He immediately stands as well to help me. "No, I am not."

There's a slight knock on the door, a hesitant one, and when Harry calls the person to come in, Jared sticks his head in and nods his head to us.

"Dinner will be ready soon. Will, er, the Styles's, be joining us?"

Harry nods, standing up, fixing his shirt. "Yes," he says, somewhat confidently, glancing at me for approval. "We'll be there in a bit."

[pokesmashorpokepass]

Gen II, Complete!

That's right everyone! We successfully made it through our Kantonian friends and their variants!

As such, allow me to begin the listing of this generations...

Sultans of Smash!

(Which is just a fancy way of saying they got more "Smash" than "Pass" votes)

So with that said, let's see who made the cut! Our Smashables are (under the Read More because, even if this is a bit shorter than the last one, holy fuck we're gonna be here a while):

Similar to Gen I, we start our list with the Kanto grass starter, Meganium! Reaching a 51.3% Smash vote, I guess people do indeed like that herb.

Hold on to your hats, everyone, because we've already got someone raking in The Big Numbers! That's right, Typhlosion has really pulled out some big wins. At a 66.4% Smash rating for Kantonian Typhlosion, we can easily see people like it hot. But that pales in comparison to their Hisuian cousin, who has managed to hit an overwhelmingly high vote of 82.5% (our highest percent so far)! I don't even have an attempt at a snappy quip for that one, that's just straight impressive.

Of course, we can't forget our reptilian, water-typed friend here. Yes, Feraligatr has made it to the list with a 54.2% Smash vote!

Now don't be shocked by this next one folk, though considering their typing I'm sure that'll be hard. Ampharos, that strange mix of a sheared sheep and a lighthouse, has been voted 58.2% smashable in Standard form! But much like Typhlosion, a change in form jumps that number way up, with Mega Ampharos hitting an impressive 70.3% Smash rating! Guess that luxurious hair really does add something...

Hey look at that, further proof the Eeveelutions just have that certain something to them. That's right, it's Espeon with a solid 60.3% Smash rating! You don't need ESP to see how popular they are with that kind of number.

And of course, we can't forget that dark-typed partner of Espeon, Umbreon! With a pretty good 59.3% rating, it seems Umbreon is right there with their fellow Gen II Eeveelution in the fields of smashing. But honestly, this is as it should be, Umbreon and Espeon are one of the classic "Do Not Separate" PokePairs.

Do you like big bugs, and you cannot lie? Because according to Scizor's polls, some of y'all certainly do! With a 59.7% for Standard Form and a nice, whole 57% for Mega Scizor, it seems this Pokemon's big meaty claws are good for more than just fighting! (...Yes I'm aware what I'm referencing there is coming from a cartoon crab not a cartoon bug but uh, consider: I don't care I think it's funny anyways.)

This one's yet another strange one, Houndoom has been voted 55% smashable... As Mega Houndoom. But sadly for Standard Houndoom, they juuuust lost out at a frustratingly close 49.6% Smash rating! But, this loyal hellhound made it in some capacity, so congratulations are still in order!

Here's a kind of crass one for y'all: what do FGO's depiction of famed Japanese general Minamoto no Raikou and the Legendary Pokemon Raikou have in common? If your answer is "Both are considered smashable", then congrats, you've nailed it! (Well, you've nailed the quiz, not either of the Raikous.) Yes, The Legendary Beast Of Lighting Raikou has made the list with a 55.6% Smash rating. I suppose they've made their way into people's hearts like a bolt from the blue!

Now I'm sure y'all weren't expecting just one member of the Legendary Beast Trio to make it into the Sultans of Smash, and you'd be correct. Entei has also made it in with a fine 63.2% smash rating! The blazing passion many feel for this emperor of flames cannot be denied, it seems!

And last but certainly not least of the Legendary Beasts, like a howling gale Suicune cuts their way into the Sultans of Smash with an impressive 72.2% Smash rating (and a very ringing endorsement of being the "sexiest motherfucker on the ocean" according to one tumblr user)! The North Wind they herald may be cold, but the feelings of Suicune's fans are some of the hottest we've got, it seems.

Seems this next one destroys more than just mountainsides, because Tyranitar has been voted Smashable both in Standard form (59.2%) and in Mega Evolution (51.8%)! Shame it takes so damn long to get Tyranitar, how is anyone supposed to smash when they're so far away?!

But at any rate, capping off this listing of the Sultans of Smash, we have everyone's favorite bird... dragon... leviathan beast thing, Lugia! Ranking at a damn good 68.5%, Lugia's not just a master of the Legendary Bird Trio, but a master of Smashing it seems! ...Probably helps that the Pokemon 2000 movie has Lugia talking. Passing the Harkness Test is a lot easier when you have words!

And with that, we have concluded the Gen II Who's Who of Smashing! This brings us to a total of 43 Sultans of Smash! Be sure to keep your eyes peeled for Gen III's list!

[williamrikers]

please ignore if this is overstepping/ you don't feel like answering but after reading the tags on your ofts posts, i am curious what you think the kinks of the main casts are! especially since i cannot imagine anything for topmew but this might also give interesting inside into their dynamic that i might have missed. thanks in advance! - @ctl-yuejie

hi, thanks for your ask! this isn't overstepping at all, i love getting asks like this 🥰

so, i never actually thought about this for all of the ofts characters much because i've been way obsessed with mew and top's weirdass dynamic and i've just been enjoying the other couples as they've been shown on screen. HOWEVER! after getting this ask i spent a bit of time contemplating this question and now, i can absolutely tell you my headcanons for each of the couples! 😏

sandray

from what we've seen in episode 9, i'd say that in the beginning of their relationship, ray is absolutely 100% a pillow princess and his insistence that mew missed the best night of his life is complete bullshit, mostly because mew does Not want a pillow princess (i'll come back to that in a bit haha). anyway, ray just has to make big eyes and say na na naaa and sand will do whatever ray wants in bed. since sand is into taking care of people, this works out extremely well for both of them.

however, in episode 9 sand also had those lines about masochism and spanking, so i can kind of see them going in that direction once they're a bit more secure in their relationship. i think sand would probably go wild for acts of service (clear goals, clear accomplishments, feeling useful, lots of praise). i could also see them doing the occasional roleplay.

bostonnick

can't nobody tell me that nick isn't into voyeurism. that man was listening to the sex tape of doom on repeat. from the way he enjoyed toying with atom, i'd say he also loves a roleplay fantasy. maybe a bit of light breathplay too? other than that, i got nothing. funnily enough, apart from, again, voyeurism, boston reads pretty vanilla to me. but i imagine he'll try everything nick suggests at least once.

mewtop

the one you've been waiting for. YES, mew should put top on his knees like YESTERDAY and let them both have catharsis through bdsm already. these two are the ones who would benefit the most from incorporating kinky play into their lives.

SO. what are they into in my opinion? well, to me, mew reads very much dominant. their scene in 6 [4/4] haunts me day and night, mew pushing top down on the bed like that and holding his arms in place while top grins like he's just entered his wildest dreams... yeah, so they're definitely into bondage and top giving up control to mew. i can very much see them playing with more of a bratty vibe, like top playfully resisting and mew reining him in. i also very much see sensation play for them (somebody give mew a flogger already 😭), clothespins, hot wax, ice cubes, blindfolding, the works. these are two people who would buy a whole wardrobe full of toys and plan out when and how to use them in exact detail. also, these guys have money. they will hire a private instructor to teach them everything they need to know about aerial suspension and then have a room in their home outfitted to be able to do that on the weekends.

that said, i do see mew as someone who enjoys making his partner work for it. like i said above, i don't think mew would really know what to do with a pillow princess like ray, i think he would very much enjoy top pushing back and challenging him a little, physically resisting, talking back to him when he gives orders and so on, because that would make the eventual "victory" even sweeter for him.

conversely, what i could definitely also see for these two is some ddlb style play because top does have deep-seated childhood trauma and bdsm could very much help him heal from that. this would be completely separate from all of the aforementioned play i outlined and mostly emotional. (they have a google calendar set up to coordinate what type of play they do on which day. ngl i do see both of them as the playing by schedule types.)

those are my thoughts! hope this was fun 😊 what do you think?

[kaseyskat]

hmmm. 22 or 24 for lovesong? if ur still doing these no rush or pressure tho :-)<33

(#22- a kiss in a rush of adrenaline- #24 a kiss in danger)

(for context: because i don't want this one to sound too similar to the other lovesong prompt, i ammmm going to set this in RWBY au! i'll explain some terms in the notes for yall so nobody is too lost :) my apologies)

~~

It isn't often that team TGLNS gets separated for missions. After all, the whole point of being teamed up is that they learn how to work as a team, and yet...

... well, they were told this situation required delicacy. They were split three-ways in the cover of the night: Lark would go on his own, completely cloaked by his semblance, while Grant and Terry covered them from behind, leaving Nick and Sparrow to pair up and secure the base they were sent to protect.

Fighting at night is always harder. Already, Grimm lurk in the shadows, and it is only the faint way Sparrow is glowing that wards them off for the time being- Nick is fairly positive that if she weren't using her semblance, they would've already been attacked.

Sparrow is quiet for once, though her hand trembles in Nick's own as they walk through the forest path towards the base. Her semblance - her own personal superpower, the way she can turn herself into light - certainly comes in handy to make her the world's prettiest night light, but it's a little unnerving to see the way she trembles ever so slightly in the dark.

"Hey," Nick whispers, squeezing her hand. "What's up?"

"I wish Lark were here," Sparrow admits, and she shivers as the breeze catches them both, ruffling her hair and his jacket sleeves in one gentle wave. "I'm worried about him."

"Your brother is gonna be fine, he's a total badass." Nick reassures, and he resists the urge to throw his arm around her, to hold her the way he's been longing for weeks now. "And he's entrusted your safety to me, so give him that same faith, huh?"

"I could kick ass without you," Sparrow retorts, but the silly quip works; she's not shaking so much, and her light is a little steadier as they approach the base.

Crazy that this is the base that criminals use. Nick swallows thickly as they stare at the door, the sounds of Grimm getting closer faint but not far off. "Your grandfather could be here," he murmurs, the words getting stuck in his throat. "Are you... okay with that?"

"My grandfather is a piece of shit who wants to make the world harder for everyone except himself," Sparrow scoffs, and she drops Nick's hand to summon her gauntlet, her form getting a little brighter. "I hope we run into him, so I can kick his ass properly."

Grimm are on their tail now, no longer warded off by Sparrow's semblance, and even though Nick is sure that Grant has their back from the trees and Terry is ready to spring to action if they need him, he can't help but vibrate with adrenaline- brothers above, he loves the thrill of a good fight, especially when he's in such good company. "Looks like the Grimm might get to us first," he warns, even as he summons his spear, his own semblance thrumming underneath his skin, waiting to be used. "Seems we won't get into this place without a fight regardless."

"Let's hope Lark's beaten us there, then," Sparrow says, and she clenches her gauntlet into her chest, spinning on her heels to face Nick. There is something dark in her eyes, even as her glow gets even more intense. "Ready for Operation Flash-Bang?"

"We were born ready," Nick grins.

Before he can use his semblance though, Sparrow does something completely unexpected: she leans up on her toes and draws Nick into a kiss. It isn't the first time they've kissed, but the way that Nick's heart is already beating rapidly from the oncoming fight coupled with how Sparrow's non-gauntlet-ed fist comes to tangle in his hair has him heady, faint.

"For good luck," Sparrow whispers while still against his lips, her breath warm and sending shivers down Nick's spine. "Let's kick some ass, shall we?"

"If you kiss me before every battle, I'll have to fight more often," Nick whispers right back, and he can't resist the urge to lean back in for one last quick kiss, lingering in her taste, her scent.

"Don't get too cocky," Sparrow teases when he straightens back up, but her cheeks are flushed, the light of her semblance doing little to hide it. "Now come on: it'll be embarrassing if Grant takes out more Grimm than we do from the trees."

"Pretty sure that's his job," Nick points out, but as Sparrow leaps into danger, gauntlet held in front of her and glowing brighter than ever, it's all he can do to follow her lead and activate his own semblance, his spear splitting in half as his form splits in two.

It's still a long shot, three against... however many Grimm face them in the woods, not to mention the White Fang rebels they might find in the base. But as long as they're together... Nick has no doubts that they'll be victorious.

[frogprincesnowglobe]

I love the friends to lovers trope so much

Childhood friends to lovers

Newer friends to lovers

Absolute best friends to lovers

Friends who are definitely in a relationship but haven't realized it yet to lovers

Friends where one of them has been in love with the other for months or *years* to lovers

Friends where both of them have been in love with each other for months or *years* to lovers

Best friends who share a bed sometimes because "we're friends, this is totally cool right?" to lovers

Teen best friends who start realizing they have feelings for each other and sharing a bed sometimes because "We're friends, this is totally cool right?" Might not be the best idea anymore for reasons to lovers

Teen best friends where everyone, all of their other friends and family know that one day they are going to be lovers to lovers

Friends but "I'm scared if I tell them it will ruin our friendship" to lovers

Childhood friends but it's been years since we saw each other and sometimes I still think of you and the golden sun of childhood to lovers

Friends who split up over some event and are now enemies to lovers

Friends who split up over some event and are now enemies (but not really) to lovers

Friends who snuggle on the couch to lovers

Friends who hug each other just a little bit long to lovers

Friends who have gone through it together to lovers

Friends who know each other's deepest darkest secrets to lovers

Friends who would protect each other at all costs to lovers

Friends who accidentally walk in on the other changing or in the shower and now they have swoopy feelings in their stomach to lovers

Friends who fall asleep in each others arms to lovers

Friends who stroke each others hair and slide a hand down each others back to lovers

Friends who now live together and have no intention on that ever stopping to lovers

Friends who can't handle that their friend now has a boyfriend or girlfriend to lovers

Friends who kiss each other on the head to lovers

Friends who know each other so deeply and intimately that sometimes they can't separate themselves from the other to lovers

Friends who don't know each other that well to lovers

Friends who have photos of each other in frames and pictures in folders on phones to lovers

Friends where everyone already thought they were lovers to lovers

Friends who know the order you want not the order you asked for to lovers

Friends who put their soft socked feet on the others lap to lovers

Friends who only get to see each other a few times a year but when they do it's like magic to lovers

Teen friends to lovers where they only get to see each other during the summer but as they've gotten older the magic has become electric to lovers

Friends who have just become friends and are figuring out if they could be lovers

Friends where one is a prince at boarding school and the other is from a small local town and they were always in this gray area of friends to lovers

Friends who fall in love via letters to lovers

Internet friends to lovers

"I could never think of them that way, they're my friend" to lovers

"I always think of them that way, they're my friend" to lovers

Friends on vacation/holiday together to lovers

Friends on a camping trip when one gets injured and needs to be given piggy back rides to lovers

Friends who take care of each other when they are sick to lovers

Friends who sometimes have sex to lovers

Friends who confess their love when drunk to lovers

Child friends who are soft and snuggly and cuddly and warm and play blocks and don't know that one day when they're grown they will transition to lovers

Child friends who are are soft and snuggly and cuddly and warm and play blocks and are certain that one day when they're grown they will be married to lovers

Friends who share sweatshirts and hoodies and joggers to lovers

Friends who steal sweaters and hide them under pillows because they smell like the other to lovers

Friends who just can't believe they didn't realize the extent of the others love to lovers

Friends who look at each other like they are the world to lovers

Friends who have friendship bracelets to lovers

Friends who say I love you to lovers

Just all the friends to lovers. Any version, any incarnation, any type of friends to lovers

To reiterate: I love the friends to lovers trope so much

[go-go-devil]

tell me about your hylics guy, wayne

First Impression: Already loved his design, but I remember being a bit unsettled by him at first, largely due to Hylics 1's pretty gruesome death animation

Impression Now: Freakin' goofball anarchist who steals dynamite and riches from the elite and loves his friends as much as he loves prog/noise rock. Love this moon man! 🌙 🎸🌯

Favorite Moment: The progression of the "You accidentally crushed it..." joke in the first game. Don't wanna spoil it for you, but someone on this site once compared it to the "Despite everything, it's still you" moment in Undertale and I really can't help but agree XD

Idea for a story: I've still got several ideas for stories about Wayne, mostly regarding his relationships with the other characters in the game. I've started to draft a fic rn that I want to keep a surprise, but another story I would like to tell is how he met up with Old Wayne (as I personally see them as two separate characters instead of H1 Wayne's evolution) and his relationship with his clone siblings from H2

Unpopular opinion: Good question. There's so little characterization for everyone in Hylics that the fandom rarely ever gets mad at headcanons for these characters

I will say that a few hc's I have for him that I don't think many others agree w/ me on is that Wayne doesn't share a hivemind with his siblings & Old Wayne (and actually has trouble relating to them) and that he doesn't smoke tobacco. The latter I see a lot in artwork of him despite cigarettes never showing up in the game, which is cool and all but I just don't see him as a smoker personally. I think Dedusmuln should be the one smoking heavily while having to record all of their archeological exploits lol

Favorite relationship: Wayne is 100% in a queerplatonic polycule with Somsnosa, Dedusmuln, and Pongorma! I hc them all as aspec, with Wayne in particular being aroace, and honestly after everything they've been through they deserve each other 💛❤️💙💚

On a darker side of the moon man, I also do enjoy the hints we get to his past relationship with Gibby. Obviously it must have been terrible for Wayne to want to kill him so badly, but it's the fact that Gibby himself doesn't seem to want to give up on Wayne that fascinates me. I could go further into this, but that would be giving away too many spoilers for both games' endings

Favorite headcanon: Probably that Moonage Lobotomy was originally formed by him and Somsnosa not long after he first "fell" to Earth. I like to imagine he found his first guitar in a garbage can and the pair started out making the shittiest self-produced rock music you could ever imagine. It helped them form such a tight bond with one another, and served as a decent distraction from the lunacy the world was trapped under...