#all i see is people being fucking stupid about it WHEN. WILL IT BE ENOUGH. WHEN

[my-castles-crumbling]

fire - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 1367 (whoops)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest.

Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Not only was the whole thing infuriating, but to make matters worse, it was also freezing outside. The September air was chilling him to his bones, and he could feel his body screaming for shut-eye. It was his definition of hell.

As he stood shivering, a tall, dark-haired, tan-skinned, hazel-eyed boy walked up to him and offered him his coat with the most obnoxiously beautiful grin he’d ever seen.

Too cold to play stupid games, he just hissed, “Fuck off,” and turned away.

As soon as they were all allowed back inside, Regulus curled under his blanket and fell asleep, keen to put the whole miserable experience behind him.

-

No such luck.

It took one week before the alarm went off again. This time at 1:19am on a Thursday, he found himself trudging down the stairs and into the cold, cursing himself for once again being too sleepy to remember a coat.

So furious that he was about to scream, he didn’t see the same boy walk up to him right away, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“I brought you an extra,” the boy grinned, making Regulus’s frozen knees melt as he offered him the jacket.

“Do you make a habit of giving your clothing to strangers?” he bit out, giving in and grabbing the offending garment, immediately throwing it over his shoulders. He figured if he was going to be harassed, he might as well be warm while it happened.

“Only the pretty ones,” the boy said with a wink, walking off and leaving Regulus both pissed off and flustered.

-

The third time happened only three days after the second, and Regulus bit back a scream when the alarm roused him from his slumber. At this point, it felt like a pattern, and he was at least smart enough to grab the oversized, frayed, horrifyingly maroon, disgustingly warm jacket he’d thrown over his desk chair three days ago.

He was only outside for a few minutes before the boy walked up to him again, looking completely comfortable in the frigid night.

“So, do I get to know your name?” he asked, sending Regulus the same stunning smile.

Frowning, at both his current whereabouts and the way his stomach flip-flopped, Regulus scoffed. “I don’t know yours.”

“James,” he answered easily, kicking at a random rock on the pavement. “Now, I’ve given you two things. It makes sense that you should give me one, yeah? Only fair.��� And he batted his long eyelashes, making Regulus nearly choke on his spit.

He pretended to ponder for a moment, getting ahold of himself, before rolling his eyes. “No,” he said shortly. And he walked off.

-

“What about your major, then?”

Ten days. It took ten days before the alarm was pulled again, and the school had started sending out cryptic notices threatening consequences for the party responsible. But still, Regulus was here, in the parking lot in the middle of the night, sending a death glare at James.

“Why does it matter?” he asked with a huff.

“Because people tend to care about their majors,” the taller boy shrugged. “And I want to know what you care about. Mine’s education, by the way.”

Education. It fit, strangely. James’s sunshiny disposition warmed the surrounding air even during the cold night, and his smile seemed like the type of thing that would put kids at-ease.

Regulus sighed, giving in. “English. With a minor in creative writing,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Hmm. That suits you,” James replied vaguely, smiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “And your name?”

He thought about it for a moment, but at this point, it almost felt like he would be giving in to some sort of weird, unspoken battle if he shared his name. And he had to admit, talking with James passed the time during these stupid evacuations. “No,” he answered, sending the boy a smirk, heart skipping a beat at his own nerve, and turning to find someone else to speak with.

-

It became a game. Every time the alarm was pulled, James found him. He asked him questions, and Regulus answered every one, shocked at the way James listened. It was actually nice to talk to someone who seemed genuinely interested. He hadn’t made a lot of friends on campus, yet, and James felt…safe. But every time James asked his name, he refused, grinning as much as James did, before sauntering away.

-

One cold night in November, though, he couldn’t sleep. Stress about classes had his mind going wild, and anxious energy flooded his body. So, he decided to take a walk through the dorm, to clear his head. He drifted through the floors and halls, no destination in mind, when he happened across one of the more-quiet areas of the building. This area happened to have a fire alarm in a dark corner of the hall, almost hidden in shadows. It was as he turned a corner to this spot that Regulus saw a hooded figure slowly approach the alarm, arm outstretched, intentions clear. 

Eyes wide, Regulus watched as the figure pulled the latch and began to run, turning and smacking right into Regulus.

“Ouch!” He cried out, nearly falling over.

“Fuck!” The person yelled, losing their balance as well.

And then the hood fell. And Regulus would have recognized those hazel eyes and that beautiful hair anywhere.

“James!?!”

The other boy looked terrified, mouth open, his body frozen in place. He uttered a few syllables as if he was trying to form words, but no sound came out. Scoffing, Regulus grabbed his hand and led him down some nearby stairs and out the emergency exit, alarm still blaring overhead.

When they got into the quiet, freezing air, he turned to the taller boy. “It was you?” he hissed, resisting the urge to slap him across the shoulder. The amount of sleep he’d lost in the past two months was abhorrent. “Why?”

James grimaced. “Well…the first two times, it wasn’t! But, y’know, the first time you didn’t have a coat…”

“I remember,” Regulus frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. And…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So the second time, I just…grabbed my old one. And when you took it and you looked so…” James gestured to Regulus, eyes wide, cheeks pink. Regulus blinked, trying to understand. Was James saying he looked good in his jacket? “…I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I just…”

Regulus gaped. “You’ve been pulling the fire alarm to see me?”

“It was only supposed to be a one-time thing! Just to get your name!” James defended himself, looking almost scared. “I didn’t know how to find you, and I just….you have to understand, you’re fucking stunning, you know?”

Blushing furiously, Regulus sputtered, “That’s…well, that’s not…”

“But then you wouldn’t tell me your name! So I had to keep pulling it, you know?” James explained, a desperate look on his face. Like it obviously made sense why he’d been breaking the law for two months. “...Just until I found out.”

He blinked several times before biting his lip. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to get to know him before. It was stupid, and risky, and idiotic, and so damn romantic.

“My name is Regulus,” he sighed, wondering if he’d regret this. “I live in room 743. And if you ever pull that damn alarm again, and wake me up, I will never speak to you again. Understood?”

James grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Your name is as beautiful as you are, by the way.”

Regulus could only sigh. What had he gotten himself into?

I also posted this here if you want to go give it some love!

[jimmy-buffet-babe]

{....well not to sound like a bitch, but i /did/ die. I've died a few times actually. Ten...oh this one would be....twenty...yeah! Twenty. Times. And this is the first time that anyone besides death is here to bring me back, and they're just here because technically they're the only one who CAN retrieve me due to legal reasons! So sorry if I'm a little shocked to see people actually show up for me instead of the other way around, Sorry if I'm concerned when I see one of my best friends upset who usually stands as far from me as possible and just gave me a big hug, sorry if i want you to be honest with your feelings instead of holding them all in and killing you faster!

And you know something? LUNA? there is a difference between being emotionless and being an asshole. You tread that line very thinly, my love. And yet, I forgive you still. But if you're gonna chew me out and you're gonna ride my ass every. Single. God. Damn. Time. That you have an emotional breakthrough. Well first off, I'm happy for you, glad to see you grow emotionally. Second off, atleast buy me a fucking dinner afterwards- I've done jackasses that do more for me for less!

And I'll tell you something else! You and your brother need to sit down, preferably with someone with therapy experience, and talk about this shit. Damn the fucking cosmic dickwads that make the stupid rules for everything and say you can't, they won't be able to shit if the FUCKING SUN AND MOON EXPLODE! Hell! I'll stop regenerating all together and turn to space dust! Last of my kind and nobody gives a fuck! Why should they?

I keep it a secret from everyone because I'm so fucking scared they'll take advantage of it and kill me just like they did with my family, and my baby! And yet! And yet here I am killing myself trying to make other people happy! To keep them safe! Because all I want is to have someone to be close to and to care for even if they don't give a shit about me. Even if they'd be better off draining the blood from my body and mounting my head on a wall. FUCK! I'm dating a contractor and so far he's the nicest guy I've been with in ages! And i don't care what every body else thinks of him because /i/ love him.......and i love you too. More than you know}

☆they look around at everyone, shaking now☆

" .....Sublime, I think that's enough- "

{Oh is it? Is it Elliot? Mr i don't give a fuck about what others have to say? Anyone ever wonder why you always work so closely with Lucifer???}

" sublime, i don't think- "

{ Think what, feldroy?? I didn't think you still /could/ think since you shipped yourself off to heaven}

" sublime- "

{ You're. Not. An. Angel. You are a beautiful, wonderful, eldritch being that happened to be born into one of the oldest and shittiest families among the olds ones-}

" Sublime that's enough, Feldroy /is/ an angel- "

{ But he's not! You are! You were! Only difference is you tried to make an honest suggestion to the big guy upstairs and got your ass kicked all the way down to Dantes curb!

I'm sick and tired of lying, and everyone else lying, and having to lie for everyone else. You want to be around me? You want to be a part of my life? Quit the fucking lying, be honest about your damn feels, and if you care about me FOR FUCK SAKE! JUST TELL ME!!! IM GOOD AT GIVING HUGS AND ADVICE, IM NOT A GOD DAMN MIND-READER PEOPLE!!!}

☆they broke off into sobs, shaking like a leaf as they fell to their knees, their scars glowing a sickly green.☆

The sound of an approaching train can be heard. Grab your tickets, hold em tight. It's gonna be one hell of a ride!~

Mr time

Mrs Earth

Ms judgement

Mr Hyde

Ms Octayve

Hm....guess they lost theirs

Ah!

And Mr Gecko.

ALL ABOARD!

[k0nanharv3y]

Alfred who came down after hearing so much noise: What's going on here, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Tim?

And Tim's face turned to Alfred like a rubber band. Bruce's face took a little longer, but he also looked at the old man in pain, seeking comfort or advice from his father

Alfred looked between Tim's heartbroken face and Bruce's wounded face: I don't know what's going on here, but I would advise you both to change and take your conversation upstairs

And Tim only saw red

Tim: This is- I'm so done!, I'm so fucking done, with you!

He pointed aggressively at Bruce

Tim: You!

Damian, who had stood on the sidelines and now seemed personally offended

Tim: And you! And everyone else in this fucking family!

Finally he pointed at Alfred even more aggressively

Alfred, shocked by the open display of hatred towards him, he felt his heart heavy: Mr. Tim- I-

For the first time in perhaps ever, Alfred hesitated

Damian: Hey! You have nothing to yell at Pennyworth for!

He defended

Tim: Shut up Damian, this isn't about you!

He silenced him and turned to both adults now

Tim: It's about you, and what you did to me

Both adults looked at each other and remained silent

Tim: You, you were an abuser and I didn't deserve that, any of this, I've always tried to please you, to live up to what you wanted! And you?! You left him, Alfred, and I wish I didn't hate you like Dick and Jason do, but all I see when I come into this house is an abuser and the person who let him! Don't play dumb, Alfred, you- You're just as bad as Bruce! And even if Bruce was the problem, you never made me feel welcome! Never-! I had to walk home a hundred times with bruised ribs, ribs that you bandaged up and then pretended didn't exist!

His throat was now raw and his voice had become cracked and squeaky. And both adults, when they saw Tim, didn't see the 17-year-old running a multi-million dollar company, they just saw the 12-year-old excited to be Robin and looking for any kind of validation they could give him

And this was what they gave him, a house where he didn't feel safe or welcome, a family he avoided like fire avoids water, thousands of reasons not to return and they robbed him of any kind of childhood he could've had

And the two adults remained silent, unable to deny or say anything, because they had nothing to say. Tim had said enough for them

Tim: You say you loved all the children in this mansion, but guess what, Alfred, I was once a child myself, and the only thing I ever got from here, never came from you. When I came here to become Robin, I thought... I thought I might get something like Jason and Dick got, too, but it seems the only thing I'll get from you is an inscription on my grave. What will you put this time, Alfred? "A good soldier," "A good son"?

Silence was his response

Tim: Fuck you all

He pulled off his cape and threw it on the ground

Tim: Fuck you all. I'm tired of this, tired of-! Of everyone wanting something from me! I quit

He ripped off his tool belt and threw it at Bruce

Tim: I quit your stupid last name, I quit your stupid company, I quit being Red Robin, I quit everything

When he had nothing left to tear off, he kicked things off the floor

Tim: I'm done! And if you ever- And if you ever care even a little, don't look for me! I don't want anything to do with this family, all of you-!

He looked at the people in the cave and seemed about to cry

Tim: I hope you-! Fuck you all, I never deserved this! Fuck you, I hope you all fuck off and-!

His voice broke and his crying intensified

Tim: I hope you die

His voice trailed off as he tried to wipe away the tears that kept running down his cheeks

Tim: I hope you suffer at least a fraction of what you did to me and...! And... And why can't I hate you...? Why can't I hate you...?

His voice sounded so tired

Tim: All I ever wanted was to be... to be enough, for you to love me... and I want to hate you but- but you're my father, and they're my brothers and... and I'm so tired, I want to go home, I want to feel safe and I want to hate you! Why can't hate you?!

He collapsed on the ground, like all his other things, like a pathetic spectacle of a pathetic child. He felt miserable in the eyes of the people who hurt him, he felt vulnerable and naked and... and he didn't care anymore, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally lifted from his shoulders and he felt satisfaction at the heartbroken look on Bruce's face and the pain on Alfred's face, and Tim simply didn't care about being on the ground anymore

He didn't care about anything anymore, just like he didn't matter

///

Part 1 Jumpscare!!!

That awkward conversation I had!!

///

And no one gets any comfort because god knows I don't know how to write about comfort, Tim deserved that breakdown and Bruce and Alfred deserved to have someone point out to their faces that they were, in fact, abusive and ruined a child's life

I would do this with Dick, Jason, Damian and Barb too, but I haven't read many comics about them, fanfics? sure, but I don't know how much of it is canon and what their real personalities are

Bruce ruined his children's futures, but canonically he also saved them. Dick was saved from becoming GraySon, Jason was rescued from the streets, Damian was saved from the League of Assassins, and Barb... Barb made choices

But Dick was also condemned to the superhero life and all the harm that entails, Jason was condemned to die, Damian went from an abusive mother to a neglectful father, and Barb... well, she's now permanently in a wheelchair

There's just too much to unpack there!!!! And my psychology books are begging to be opened again, but Tim is my favorite and that means everything I think of will be about or referring to him

[kings-highway]

i get the feeling the minecraft just wouldn’t be one of the games kenma would play/be interested in. it’s so much of an open world, aimless, and strategy-less game (not that there isn’t strategy involved, but not like a regular play-through or pvp game like mortal kombat or smth) that i think he just would not enjoy it very much. i could see him being a speedrunner or only someone who joins to help fight stuff but that’s ab it

okay I'll bite. I think you're absolutely right. I think Kenma is highly driven by the reward system of video games, skill trees and leveling up and quests and definable ways to prove you are winning and minecraft would probably bore him. And he probably wouldnt think much about it. Not all games are for him, and thats fine.

However, you know who would fucking love minecraft? Kuroo. Kuroo wouldnt even bother searching up guides or explanations. the sheer level of discovery and crafting and options available to him would keep him occupied for ages. Everything would be exciting for him. And then he gets to fight a fucking dragon at the end? Perfect

Anyway, I believe when Kuroo sends a text to Kenma that says "haha just beat minecraft!" Kenma would be so pissed. First off - he didnt know you could "beat" minecraft. Second - KUROO BEAT A VIDEO GAME BEFORE HE DID? What horrible alternate reality is this? And then Kenma would FEVERISHLY have to work through minecraft to beat it to prove that he could too. He'd blitz it in like a day and text Kuroo like "And??? So did I." but then Kuroo would be like "haha my favourite part is the redstone coding. It works pretty well, I made a ton of automated minecarts and built like a whole rollercoaster" and Kenma would be like "what the hell are you talking about?" because he only did what was 100% necessary and didnt play around.

Anyway I also fully believe that Daichi would absolutely love minecraft and he'd just fully commit to the survival aspect and have a big old farm and worry about making sure his cows have enough space and 100% I can imagine him and Kuroo logging on together with their stupid little headsets at like 11pm and then when Kuroo dies in the mines via surprise creeper Daichi's cackling laughter over the other ends says "this is why we beat you at nationals" and Kuroo considers learning how to punch people through the screen.

They invite Kenma online to play with them since Kenma officially knows how to play now and doesnt like being left out the ONE time Kuroo actually wants to play a video game instead of volleyball and he just keeps dying and now he has two idiots laughing at him.

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

I hope you are well, sorry if there are any errors (English is not my native language), I love your stories, I would like you to write one of anguish, sadness, as sad as you can, about Rafe. I would appreciate it very much

long sleeves- r.c. x reader

OMGG my first request!!! i'm good and i hope you are as well <3 thank you for asking bb. sorry i took so long, i just started school and i hadn't seen this for some reason, but i gotchu. and don't worry about the english, it's not my first language either, so i see you hehe I HOPE THIS IS SAD ENOUGH!! if not lmk, cuz i'll crank it up. a/n: i actually had this idea earlier today so i think i can do this. i hope you like gracie abrams cuz it's inspired by long sleeves and i've wanted to use this song in something since it came out lol. warnings: drug mentions with addiction portrayal and domestic violence, as well as depression. if it's too much don't read it, take care of yourself first! <3

i don't know what it is about how you breathe.

his chest rising and falling, his face turned away from me even in his sleep. it seemed like it was always this way now, so much so that i couldn't even remember the last time his eyes warmed my soul instead of turning it into ice. i turned to face the ceiling and took in a few deep breaths, before i untangled myself from his sheets and padded toward the bathroom. i turned on the light before locking the door behind me and turned to face the mirror. my hollow, tired face staring back at me. when had i become this girl? i stepped closer as if in fear of seeing up close the sadness that invaded my features. dark circles looked permanently etched to my skin a shiver passing through me. i looked down at my arms, which were covered by rafe's long sleeved shirt. i lifted them slowly and saw the bruises that circled my wrists like a twisted version of bracelets.

he hurt me. not just emotionally this time, he physically hurt me.

i'll never hurt you, okay? how stupid i'd been to believe those words, when all he ever did was hurt me. again and again and again. the worst part being that i always forgave him, but i couldn't this time, not when the evidence was staring right at me in the mirror. i had to do this for her, for me. i pull the sleeves down and left the sad girl in the mirror forever. the doorknob somehow felt like the scariest thing in the world. it's just a door, don't be an idiot. i rolled my eyes because that was the only thing i could be these days. a fucking idiot.

i gathered what little courage i still had left and opened the door silently, relieved to see him in the same position as before. i went to the side of his bed as quietly as i could and looked at his face for what felt like forever. his hair fell over his forehead in a childlike manner, no angry lines or hateful glares in sight.

when had i lost him? the love of my life, my soulmate, my best friend?

this was all my fault, i turned my back at the wrong moment. his stupid friends encouraging him to try out this new 'kicker'. snow, they called it. ridiculous. when i came back he was cutting that ivory into skinny pieces, then he cleaned it with his face. i remember standing there in shock and a sizzling rage began brimming to the surface. i stalked towards him pushing his face back, then dragging him by the arm outside of whatever stupid kook's house we were at.

that was the first time we'd ever fought and i felt my heart crack a little. he knew how much i hated drugs, the way they ruined people. hell, i even hated drinking but it wasn't my body so whatever. this was different and he knew it, but of course he always had to be the coolest guy around his friends. i'd walked home that night, waking up to him blasting my phone with calls and text messages. he'd apologized and i'd believed him.

then he apologized again, then again and again. the cycle had already formed. i'd accepted his outbursts despite them hurting me emotionally, maybe because i couldn't see the bruises up front.

it was hard to believe this was the same boy who'd screamed at me. who told me he hated me to my face with his hands wrapped around my wrists hard enough to bruise just a few hours earlier before passing out after getting high again. he almost looked like his old self, almost being the keyword. his nose still had a bit of white powder on it, a baggie of cocaine and a rolled up $100 bill at the side, along with some pills that i didn't even want to know what they were.

i turned and took out the bag i usually brought when i was staying over at his house, before walking towards the dresser and opening the drawers. i had a small haul of clothes for when i was here for more than a day or two and couldn't help but let the tears start streaming down my face. i remembered the day he'd made this small space for me, the gesture solidifying our relationship in my head. i remembered his smile and the way he'd kissed my face for what seemed a million times. "i love you, kid." he always called me kid in a teasing way because it irritated the hell out of me but when he said it like that, i knew i'd let him call me whatever he wanted and i'd gladly accept it.

the memory was a stark contrast to the now cold room, with the moon as my only witness. i finished packing everything before putting on sweatpants and my shoes. i felt him stir a bit and i pleaded to whatever divine power was out there that he'd just pretend it was only wind.

i looked at his beautiful face one more time, a single tear falling to his side, the irony not lost on me.

i turned and left him behind. the tears blurred my vision just enough that i couldn't record the final moments in which i would ever walk these halls again.

y'all why she so dramatic with her packing up, lmaoo. (i literally would’ve been worse)

ok but on a serious note, if you or anybody you know is in a similar situation, please try your best to break the cycle <3 i'm thinking of maybe writing a part two but i don't know if i should sooo lmk. div creds!!- by @anitalenia

[moonshine-nightlight]

So i just read Nothing's Wrong With Dale for the 4th time, and I just wanted to say thank you. I fucking love that story so much it's insane!!

I have a few questions that I keep thinking about of their life after the story ends. (Some of them are silly, sorry!)

1. Would you ever consider doing a sequel?

2. I feel like personally Dale would be an amazing father, but do you think they would ever have children in the future? If so, would they be half demon?

3. How would Dale react if another woman hit on him? I have a feeling he would be so oblivious at first.

4. What would Dale do if 'reader' is jealous of said woman?

5. What do you think would happen if someone in the 'readers' family accidentally found out?

Sorry if this is a lot, I'm just love this story so much! You are such a wonderful author 💜

Damn! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story enough re-read multiple times! That's so sweet!

i love questions about my stories, especially Dale! Since some answers will be spoiler-y and speculation, please see below :)

(Mild disclaimer: all of this is just speculation and half-baked ideas, nothing is canon because nothing is written etc even if i am the author. if anyone personally disagrees with any of this for their version of the reader and Dale--I fully support you)

I have considered it and while i do have ideas for some little spin off/side short stories, currently i don't plan for a full sequel. I just don't have a compelling idea for the overall plot/character ? Some of my bonus ideas are: POV story from Miss Adir&Mr Murray called "Peculiar Creatures" about reader and Dale; Dale hunting down Two; dale confronting the patrons of the assassination; a Midwife POV story; and a mini-romance story with Breighton and Teresa. I also do want to write more stories about different romances set in the Dale universe, with potential cameos by Dale and reader (each with at least 1 human and 1 demonic person).

Dale will certainly put his all into being a father. Not set in stone, but I think they'll have three kids and they are all part demon. If i ever was to write a full sequel it would probably combine some of the above short stories into one longer story covering readers pregnancy with their first born and the ramifications of a partially demon pregnancy lol while learning to take over Northridge. Dale felt very alone when he was young and so he'd put a lot of effort into making sure his child wouldn't feel that way--especially since the kid will be singular (no swarm) which Dale would see as very lonely. Both want multiple kids so that gets alleviated in time. They do have to be careful about letting Dale's grandparents around their children until they can control themselves lol

You're right, he likely wouldn't pick up on the nuance between "general manners" "sucking up to powerful people" "general flirt" and "flirting with him specifically". If he did notice, he'd be relatively polite but also ignore it or, if persistent, just leave to find the reader lol. If reader was there, he'd just be like "my lovely spouse" in greater and greater frequency/emphasis--like the other person is oblivious to the fact that he already has the best spouse.

I don't think reader would be jealous, they're married and stupid in love, but Dale'd probably just be confused if they were. Like, jealous of what? lol (I mostly find jealously fun to write/play with either before the couple is together or if its about non-romance things)

Reader's family finding out is a very interesting idea. It would definitely depend on who and when they find out. Callalily is the most protective so she'd be worried about the danger to the reader and generally everyone, not just violence but also manipulation. Douglas would be suspicious and wary and would need to interrogate Dale directly--fearing the reader being controlled in some way. He's seen the damage demons can do and takes it super seriously, but knows individual demons vary wildly. Marigold and Asher are both the most likely to hear the reader out and not jump to conclusions, for different reasons. They have more open minds and trust the reader to know themself/trust their judgement the most. All are more likely not to run screaming the longer they've known him/any children the couple has. The reader's parents would immediately tell everyone, they would have to be actively kept from spreading the word.

thanks for sending this ask and these questions in! It was a lot of fun to think about and share, especially since i hav basically no time for anything but work (which i should be doing now lol)

I'm always happy to talk about Dale ^^

[just-some-random-blogger]

JSJSSJJSJSJJS WHAT THE FUCK I WAS SO INTO IT AND IT JUST ENDS ARE YOU KIDDING ME (IM A SPOILED BRAT SORRY) WTF CRISTI I WAS SO SURE I WAS GONNA KEEP HATIN CREGAN AND YOU COULDNT CHANGE MY MIND BUT YOU DID MY PETTY ASS HAS BEEN CONVERTED

First of all, sorry for requoting so much aksjjsjsns I can't help it I have thoughts

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

COS HES SELF AWARE I WAS SO ANGRY WHEN I READ THIS AT FIRST BUT I FEAR NOW THAT IVE READ EVERYTHING I FEAR I FEAR I FEAR IM A SIMP

[...] it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure?

MISS MAAM GOT CLOCKED SO BAD 😰😰😰😰 IM WITHERING AWAY

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, [...] you had taken it as a personal criticism.

NO COS FRONTAL LOBE DEVELOPED EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT KING???? wtF IS THIS BULLSHIT

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable.

🗣️HES🗣️SO🗣️SELF🗣️AWARE🗣️I🗣️HATE🗣️IT🗣️

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

I think this was the exact part I was like well fuck I guess I like him 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 THANKS A LOT CRISTI MY HATER AGENDA IN THE FUCKING BINNNNN UHGGGHHHHHHHHHH IMAGINE LIKING A MAN THATS SO EMBARRASSING

The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was.

HSJSJSJSJSJSJ 💀💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 HE JUST KEEPS READING HER TO FILTH ITS EMBARRASSING FUCK YOU HOW WOULD YOU KNOW SHES INTROVERTED YOU BARELY SPEAK NO JUSY BECAUSE YOURE AWARE AND OBSERVANT DOESNT MEAN ANYTHING YOU KNOW WHAT I TAKE IT BACK I HATE YOU 🖕

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with.

I lied I want to have your babies

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵SIMP WE HAVE A SIMP ON OUR HANDS

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

Fuck 😭😭😭😭😭 the emotional intimacy the self awareness the ability to say you were wrong. Fuckkkkkkkk the maturity. I'm

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I WANT HIM IM SHAKING

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

👏CON👏GRA👏TU👏👏FUCK👏ING👏LA👏TIONS👏YN👏YOU👏WON👏I👏HOPE👏YOU👏TREAT👏HIM👏RIGHT👏FUCK👏OFF👏HOW👏DOES👏IT👏FEEL👏TO👏LIVE👏MY👏LIFE👏

“No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

Suddenly I'm on my knees

“You may call me Cregan, if you wish. [...] 

Can I call u mine

“You would be surprised.”

😬😬😬😬😬 yikes

He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you.

Ndjsjsnsnjsjsjnse and you know what I respect that. Megamind shit

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

nJsjsjjsjjsjjsjsj GIGIL IM SO RKEJEJJDJJS JEJEJDJDJDJJS THERE IS NOT AN ENGLISH WORD TO DESCRIBE MY FEELINGS I WANT TO SHAKE THEM

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly.

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

Nice save

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons.

Xoxo gossip girl

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

LOVEEEEEEE RICKONNNNN GIBBERISH MY BELOVED

He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan.

Who's gonna tell her

As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide.

This just in: local girl realizes her husband is, in fact, hot. Pfffft girl get up 🙄🤚

“You are far too thin still. [...]

HES TRYING TO GET ME FAT TO EAT ME

[...] Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

I'm done pretending I don't want to be devoured by this man COS HE WHAT

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

DONT YOU DARE COME AROUND HERE BEING EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT FOR THE BOTH OF US

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

STOPPPPPP WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN WHAT IN THE BLUETOOTH HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW WHAT SHE WAS THINKING 🫵 WITCH

“Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.”

PFFFT THATS SO FUNNY OF HIM HES A REAL CLOWN COS HES NEVER DO IT HAHAHAH I LOVE HIM they're so siblings™

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.”

🙄🤚 man get up

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

I LOVEEE THEMMMMM SIBLING CODED AHHH

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 RICKON MY SWEEET. NGL MY PETTY ASS WOULD BE LIKE OH YOURE GIVING ME A DIREWOLF COS I CANT HAVE A DRAGON 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 DIE

CRISTI IM UPSET IT TOOK SO LITTLE INTERNAL DIALOGUE FOR ME TO BE SWAYED BY CREGAN 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE 👎👎👎👎👎👎 WHAT ABOUT FEMINISM WHAT ABOUT FRIENDSHIP YOU ABSOLUTELY DESTROYED ME AND FOR WHATTTTTTTT

I love rickon. I imagine he smells like milk and babie and I would just have to eat him up I LOVE HIM I CANT IM GOING TO CRY CREGAN MAKE BABIES WITH ME CHALLENGE FAILED 👎👎👎👎👎👎 YET ANOTHER REASON TO HATE HIM

Spring (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Slightly less unreliable narrator (Cregan has come to his senses, reader is on the way) Mature language.

A/N: I really thought these two would get their mess sorted out in nine scenes, but I was far too optimistic. Lucky me, I had one season as backup! Also, thank you so, so much for continuing to read this series and your kind comments!

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

The utter viciousness you had displayed, bringing up his dead wife, had only been a source of anger for him at first. He had thought you an evil little bitch, unafraid of exploiting weak spots to hurt him. 

Then, he had seen you with Rickon. And his world had just… Shifted. As if every piece of furniture in Winterfell had been moved exactly one inch to the left, and no one had told him, leaving him stumbling around in his own home.

You weren’t evil or jealous. Or, more likely, you were, but not because of some petty reason, it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure? But it made too much sense for him to ignore. 

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, like commenting on the number of packages and dresses you had brought from the South, you had taken it as a personal criticism. You felt unappreciated, so you lashed out and avoided him at every turn. 

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable. The northern women were considered capable because they were physically strong, able to wield bows, ride hard and long or withstand the terrible weather. 

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

Cregan had never noticed before because he had never bothered to truly look at what you were doing, but your charities were to make your mother’s cause more popular with the smallfolk. He had heard your mother was doing a similar thing in the capital, delivering food to the starved population due to a blockade of the own Blacks’ making. Not that the commoners cared about the last part. They only cared about those who put food on their bellies. 

And perhaps the Queen dowager and Princess Helaena were popular in the South because of their involvement in the Septs, but you were exploiting the lack of those here. Without Septs, there were no Septas or Septons tending to the sick and poor. You were. And the North would remember, when it came time to march for your mother’s banners. 

Cregan would bet Ice that you were having tea with the northern ladies not to gain friends. The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was. It explained why the two of you were so uncomfortable with each other. You were probably entertaining the northerns to win their loyalties, knowing the combined pressure of Cregan’s oath and their wives would make his lords more eager to drop coin and men for your war. 

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see how much security you could bring to the North, how well fed you could be during winter, if you decided to work with him and not behind him. 

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him. He had been pushing you away without even realizing it, comparing you to Arra at every turn, without considering how that might come across to you. 

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

Set in his decision, Cregan walked to your chambers. He waved off the guard’s attempt to announce him, casually strolling in. 

You were seated next to the fire, the leather-bound book you usually carried around spread over your lap. It was a heavy tome, bound in brown leather with golden engravings. It was written in High Valyrian, a language for which Cregan had little use, so he had never learned it beyond recognizing the alphabet. 

There was a striking beauty to your expression when you were at ease, the peaceful expression you wore becoming you much more than the usual frown you directed at him. Cregan found himself wondering how beautiful you must look smiling, if you looked this radiant when at peace. 

You had the sort of face to be lit up with happiness, he could already tell. His heart ached to be the one that finally coaxed it out of you.

“Princess,” Cregan calls, softly. You set your book aside, ready to get up and curtsy, but he halts you. “No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

“Lord Husband.” You reply, for once not frowning. Your face remains carefully neutral, which Cregan considers a victory. He would attribute it to his remark about his ego, but it is more likely due to guilt. He will take it regardless. 

“No need for that either, much less today.” Cregan smiles at you. “You may call me Cregan, if you wish. I am here to thank you for caring for my Rickon while I was away.” 

You look far more confused than you did before. You look like you want to approach him and run at the same time, your wool gown fluttering as you squirm in place, undecided if you are approaching or not. 

“I simply did my duty, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile widens, amused by you. 

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly. Cregan fights the urge to curse, instead making a mental note. You dislike being mocked, even in jest. He wonders what sharp words you had to endure in the South to be like this, and feels a wave of pity. Dark of hair and no dragon to shield you? Perhaps that was why you were far kinder to Sara than to him. He gives a tasteful cough. Or at least, his attempt at it. 

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

“He is a child.” You say, slowly.  “No person would leave a child in need.” 

“You would be surprised.” Cregan thinks of how his own mother had treated Sara when she had arrived at Winterfell, treatment that hadn’t improved when his aunt took on as the Lady of the household. His sister had only known freedom after Cregan had taken over his seat, and she was still judged by the rest of the North, even though in a much subtle manner. 

“Mmm.” Your reply is noncommittal. 

“He has been asking me lately why he doesn't have a lady mother.” Cregan attempts again. He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you. And to his amusement, it does work. You pity his son more than him, it seems because you begin to pay him more attention.  

“What did you tell him?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. It’s a surprisingly cute gesture for the unshakable princess that you are. 

“I do not know. I have not answered him.” Cregan searches for somewhere to sit, but apart from the loveseat in which you are soaking up the warmth of the fireplace, there is none. He grabs the stool by your writing area, and brings it over. 

He sits on the stool across from you, wiggling a bit with how uncomfortable it is. It feels like his knees are on his chest, by the Gods. It’s clearly meant for a shorter person. Your rooms are not made for receiving visitors, he should have thought of that earlier. You need a space to receive people that isn’t the sitting room. What if you wish to have more private conversations?

“Surely he knows she is dead?” You are too caught up in your disbelief to protest that he is rearranging your furniture. Good. 

“He does, but doesn’t quite grasp what dead means.”  Cregan is being honest. Whoever has the heart to explain to a child of two namedays what death is, is a braver man than him. 

“Perhaps you could say she is in the Seven Heavens?” Your frown comes back, but this time it isn’t angry. Instead, it’s puzzled. You are trying to help him, and it makes him fight the urge to smile. He doesn’t want you to think that he is mocking your suggestion. 

“We do not believe that here.” 

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

“Just, I would like it if you saw him more often. With me. Perhaps… He has asked about you, and I am not asking you to replace her but I… He sometimes needs a more feminine touch.” 

“Of course.” You agree. And he can see in your eyes you think he might be trying to use you as a stand in for Arra, not truly believing his words, but that is alright. Cregan will show you. Or at least, he is going to do his very best attempt. 

YOU MAKE SURE there are enough pastries and hot water available before you stand up.

“I am afraid I must leave you, my ladies. But you are welcome to continue enjoying the hospitality of Winterfell.” The sitting room is filled with northern women. You have begun inviting them for tea twice a moon, trying to ensure your mother will have all the support she needs when she takes King’s Landing. 

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons. The only ones who do are the most important Houses, like the Starks or the Boltons. It means that most of your ladies are northern by birth, and not through marriage as you are. 

“This early?” Lady Mormont asks, bluntly. Her bluntness had discomfited you during your first meetings, but you have come to find it refreshing. “Princess?” She tacks on, remembering she is supposed to mind her courtesies with you. 

“This early.” You confirm, with a smile. You have planned the time of this tea with precision for this same motive, knowing it will appeal to their loyalty, but also allow you to escape the socializing. “I have a play date with my Lord Husband and little Rickon.” 

One of the ladies coos. Lady Mormont barks out a laughter. 

“Ah, to be a young woman with that many suitors.” 

“Only the very best.” You smile, and leave them to feast on the pastries. 

You make your way to Cregan’s solar at a leisure pace. The crushed velvet gown you are wearing is in a blue so pale it almost looks like the gray of House Stark. It is one of your old ones, meant to evoke House Velaryon’s colors. It fits you again, having gained a bit of weight during your time in the North. You hope it is a gown suitable for playing with a toddler. 

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

“Rickon!” You kneel by him, as he runs to be picked up. You indulge him, smelling his hair as you lift him. He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan. You hate that you cannot hate him or be indifferent any longer. The little boy has stolen your heart. 

Rickon gives you a toothy smile, his hands clumsily going to cup your face. Who can resist him? Not you. 

“I see you found each other.” Cregan leans against the door, smirking. He holds two cups. “Warm milk with honey. For the cold.”

You cannot help but smile a little. 

“Our knight in shining armor!” You tease, more for Rickon’s benefit than him. “Let us in, good Ser. So I can place my little wildling down and he can drink it.” 

Cregan laughs and moves aside to let the two of you pass. As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide. Your eyes linger on his shoulders. You have not seen him wield Ice yet, but you have seen the sword. He has to have considerable strength to do so. 

The thought is strangely thrilling. Your stomach does a somersault, but before you have time to analyze it, Rickon begins to squirm in your arms. 

“Down! Down! Doggie!” He pleads. You look to see what has caught his attention and notice that Cregan has moved the rug so it lays by the fireplace, and placed some of Rickon’s toys there, including his more favored one: A soft cotton white wolf. 

You set Rickon down and take one of the cups from Cregan. Both of you sit down on the rug as well, and watch Rickon play with his wolf, ignoring his cup of milk. You have come to learn that playing with an only child is much different than playing with your younger siblings, Rickon mostly plays alone and wants you there to show you things. 

It forces you to keep conversations with your husband, if only because the silence would be too awkward otherwise. 

“I have arranged for us to have tea when Rickon tires.” Cregan informs you, a bit stiff.

“Oh, I already had tea with the…” You start, before Cregan interrupts you. 

“You are far too thin still. Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

It’s awfully thoughtful of him, and you will examine it later because your mind is still stuck on one tiny detail. One that infuriates you. 

“You are corresponding with Jace?” You ask, trying hard not to sound violent. After all, he has been very kind to you as of late, and guilt has begun to creep in for your careless words about his late wife. Not that you will apologize or anything. You intend to pretend nothing happened and be extra nice to Cregan, indulging Rickon and him on all the tea and play dates in the world. 

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

“Does he think I shall never forgive him?” You ask him, baffled. Rickon begins building a tower with blocks on the rug, insisting that the two of you aid him in building Winterfell, so Cregan’s answer is delayed. As you place some blocks to make the entrance, you have time to think over his words. 

All alone in Dragonstone, Jace must be feeling as lonely as you are. Only more because he has no Cregan and Rickon to stand with him. 

What he had done was a deep betrayal in your eyes, but was it truly? You had known you would have to marry eventually, and it probably wouldn’t be a love match. Jace had done the best he could in the terrible circumstances you were in. Moved by his fear of losing another sibling, he had entrusted you to Cregan because he thought you could be happy here. Safe. 

And you were. There was no fiercest protector for you apart from your husband. After marrying him, no one had dared even to breathe the rumors of your bastardy, and he even worried about what you ate, by the Gods’ sake!

“You can hold a grudge.” Cregan says, cautiously, when Rickon is distracted by his cup of milk and begins to attempt drinking it. Usually, drinking his milk is followed by passing out, so he is careful to support him in his lap. The sight makes your chest feel oddly warm. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was bad. 

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

“Perhaps I don’t want to any longer.” You say, looking into his eyes. You are no longer speaking of Jace. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

“Neither do I.”

SARA’S EYES, GREY and so much like his father’s, are fixed on him. Cregan tries to ignore her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of appearing uncomfortable. But before the hour passes, he is squirming in his chair, unnerved by her silent stare. 

Sara continues to stare. Cregan refuses to speak to her. After a while, she sets down the book she has taken from his shelves, a dreadfully boring account of the battles fought by the Kings of Winter, and perches her chin in her hands. 

That way, her staring is much more obvious. She is comfortably laid back in one of the armchairs he has in his solar. Cregan likes company when he works, and it’s easier to ask for her opinion if she is right there. Unfortunately, it also means she can stare at him for hours on end if she so wished.

“What?” Cregan asks, when he can’t take it any longer. He pushes away the reports about the safety of Wintertown and how prepared they are for winter, and looks up at her. She still doesn’t speak. “Sara!” 

“Apologies, brother.” By her smile, she is anything but sorry. “I just find it fascinating.” 

Cregan sighs. He doesn’t really want to bite, but if he doesn’t, Sara’s teasing will get worse and worse.

“What is fascinating?” 

“How you have managed to turn into a spineless southron in less than two moons.” Cregan can only gape at her. What is she going on about? “Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

His face grows hot, burning with embarrassment. 

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.” He mutters, under his breath, which only makes her cackle further. Both of them know that Sara would never be married off as if she were some cattle. Cregan loves her too much for it, and she is a deeply independent woman. 

“Who would advise you, then?” She asks him, brazenly. “Your sweet little wife? While she is great at wrangling lords and ladies, I doubt she has the stomach for warfare.” 

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.” At his words, Sara glares. She hates to be reminded she had not been as immune as she liked to think she was to Prince Jacaerys’ charms. “But if the worst comes to pass, I actually intend to have her hold Winterfell alongside you and Rickon.” 

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sara approves. “Shall you march south, Rickon and I will suffice.” 

“I wish to begin teaching her, when she no longer seems willing to murder me.” 

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

“She still seems to think I do not love her.” Cregan whines. 

“Because you mention Arra all the time. I have heard it’s in bad taste, but what would I know?” Sara rolls her eyes. “I am just some bastard girl.” 

“Are you simply going to complain or will you help me?” Cregan looks at her and tries giving her his best pleading look. Then, he decides to stroke her pride. “You know I always seek your council, even above other lords.” 

“Even above Lord Cerwyn?” Her mouth purses in a dubious pout. Fuck. His sister or his best friend? In the end, the choice is easy. Sara is here now, after all. 

“Of course.”

Sara positively beams. 

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

“Your advice?” Cregan asks, tiredly. The Gods knew that she would talk circles around him if he let her. She was honest, but she also had a gift for courtly speech that Cregan despised. 

“Women like gifts. Or I do. And I am a woman.” Sara shrugs. “She is a Princess, of course she does too. And don’t just gift her anything.” 

“I would never be…” That stupid, Cregan wishes to add, but Sara is still speaking. 

“Gift her something special. Something unique, tailored to her. And especially, something that you wouldn’t gift practical Arra.” 

Cregan stares at Sara. Sara stares back. Then, very pointedly, she picks up her book and continues to read. The message is clear. He will not get any further help. 

Still, her advice lingers. In the coming days, Cregan cannot shake the thought, regardless of what he is doing. As he inspects his men, as he reads during his spare time, even as he bathes. All Cregan thinks of is you, and a gift that would please you. 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

He discards many more ideas, from rolls of myrish lace to donations to your charities. You ran far too cold to wear the former, and the latter wouldn’t truly be a gift to you. He wastes nearly a week coming up with a suitable idea, and two more corresponding with the Prince, the Maester at Dragonstone, and securing the goods he needs. 

It’s all worth it, when he takes a look at the finished present and can know that you will love it. 

[brionysea]

when max is depressed we know something's wrong because lucas says with his words that he knows something's wrong but when mike is depressed we don't think anything of it because will's right next to him rolling his eyes about how stupid straight people are

[slamrink]

klay 0 points but he looked sexygorgeous doing it + lockdown defense + mavs WIN and dubs clinch so im leaving here with something 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[vogelmeister]

anyways i am feeling kinda brave today so im gonna share a potentially unpopular taylor swift hot take. when i was talking to my friend yesterday about ttpd i realised that i kinda have a similar problem with the anthology as i do with evermore.

like don't get me wrong, both have absolute gems (willow, tolerate it, long story short, gold rush and NBNC from evermore are great and i love the albatross, so high school, the prophecy black dog, manuscript etc) but i think both collections (bc anthology is not an album) suffer because they came out connected to a much superior more cohesive work, and both almost feel like rejects from the body of work that proceeded it.

[bitchesgate3]

mizora fans are the only safe side of the fandom for me

[area51-escapee]

“A little progress is better than none!!! Vote blue anyways <3!!!!!” I’m going to start beating these people with a baseball bat I swear to god

[silphilis]

i hate knowing why i do things thats so fucked. i have medical brainrot and its still not enough to erase the comprehensive collection of data i have on why ive done and felt everything that i have done and felt for my whole life. ruins the fun of it. buzzkill. cockblock. etcetera. shawties that cant even fuck up their own life in peace because they are painfully aware of why they want to act up and how to fix it. fuck you

[cloudbends]

Apparently there aren't many things I hate more than the average gacha fan. Or in other words can we put the word yapper on the highest shelf possible.

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[mako-island-moon-pool]

Ignored again today, going to start maiming the hostages until behavior improves