#also thanks for tagging me Rowan! :)

[elderwisp]

STILL GOIN ꩜ tessellate returns october eighth

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[soonhoonsol]

cheytermelon's 2024 top 10~

i love this trend heheh 💖

tagged by @jiwoonhyung @jeonghanic @caspleosvt @chwedout @honeydewtual and @yutaslaugh on my main blog here (thank you! ✨)

also tagged by @bamgeut @jinjjayo on my multi blog and @seonghwacore @rlvaille on my seonghwa blog (thank you guys too i hope you don't mind i'm just gonna put everything here 😭💖)

rules: go here to see your top 10 posts of 2024, share them and tag others ✨

1️⃣ soonhoonsol - jxw :: last night (825 notes) 1️⃣ hwanwooyoung - wooyoung face card <33 (1,912 notes) ✨ 1️⃣ hwatermelon - two pretty hockey players (1,170 notes)

2️⃣ soonhoonsol - fav wonwoo photoshoot (764 notes) 2️⃣ hwanwooyoung - mingi crazy form ending fairy (989 notes) 2️⃣ hwatermelon - mma 2024 'iomt' performance (1,011 notes) ✨

3️⃣ soonhoonsol - svt out of context: musical heirs #1 (618 notes) 3️⃣ hwanwooyoung - wooyoung // 'hush hush' mv (829 notes) 3️⃣ hwatermelon - drive me crazy, why don't you? (928 notes) ✨

4️⃣ soonhoonsol - svt out of context: going rangers #1 (605 notes) 4️⃣ hwanwooyoung - 240604 'work' wooyoung (639 notes) 4️⃣ hwatermelon - seonghwa // 'hush hush' mv (871 notes) ✨

5️⃣ soonhoonsol - coquette jeonghan (520 notes) 5️⃣ hwanwooyoung - drummer wooyoung (636 notes) 5️⃣ hwatermelon - seonghwa's impersonating himself (826 notes) ✨

6️⃣ soonhoonsol - svt out of context: going rangers #2 (518 notes) 6️⃣ hwanwooyoung - 240516 'maestro' jeonghan (604 notes) 6️⃣ hwatermelon - 240531 'empty box' seonghwa (803 notes) ✨

7️⃣ soonhoonsol - hoshi // 'spell' mv (514 notes) 7️⃣ hwanwooyoung - mma 2024 'iomt' mingi (595 notes) 7️⃣ hwatermelon - ponytail seonghwa (792 notes) ✨

8️⃣ soonhoonsol - cutie patootie wonu (501 notes) 8️⃣ hwanwooyoung - 231202 'crazy form' hongjoong (552 notes) 8️⃣ hwatermelon - guitarist seonghwa (784 notes) ✨

9️⃣ soonhoonsol - 240516 'maestro' wonwoo (484 notes) 9️⃣ hwanwooyoung - 240531 'work' wooyoung (509 notes) 9️⃣ hwatermelon - he's literally just standing there (776 notes) ✨

🔟 soonhoonsol - i also want to know what's so funny (404 notes) 🔟 hwanwooyoung - girl dad wooyoung (466 notes) 🔟 hwatermelon - soccer bf seonghwa (731 notes) ✨

okie we done <3

tagging to do this: @hongtonie @soobinies @hoshingi @96z @featdino 💖💖💖 (if you already did this pls lmk!!)

[solplease]

do you have any voice claims for any of your ocs?

omg... this is the first ask i've gotten about my ocs... i'm honoured...

but that's a great question actually!

i haven't thought about it too much haha but here's what i came up with for now!

rowan - he sounds like either light or mikami from death note!

nox - soft spoken, like xavier from love and deepspace

cecilia - clover from totally spies (my childhood....)

lune - nekozawa from ohshc lmao

aster - also soft spoken, maybe someone like kazuha from genshin?

it's really funny bc i think the voices fit but my ocs and these characters don't really have similar personalities LMFAOOO.

[grapecaseschoices]

WHAT FORM OF LOVE IS YOUR OC?

thank you @thedeadthree for tagging me to do this quiz for my ocs!

I picked Kendis and Hiyam again, as I work to strengthen Hiyam's voice and play them in RP!

tagging: @sustainably-du-mortain @unitedindistaste @aylaaescar @brother-genitivi @finalgirl-horatio

Kendis

love that strengthens

you make sure that people know that they are loved, and you give them strength when they need it the most. this is an ability that is rare; the love that you hold speaks wonders of yourself. i hope you're doing alright. isn't it exhausting always being the bigger person?

Hiyam

love that heals

your love is healing. it burns you with every bit of your soul, but you choose to heal, nevertheless. you are so, so so strong and i hope you know that. i send you peace. i send you calm. i hope things will become better for you in time, just as you have made others better in time as well.

[sollucets]

@troubled-mind's 5 ql songs tag ✨

When you get this, list 5 songs from the Asian QL shows that you actually listen to. 🎶They do not have to be custom-made for the series. 🎶Non-western tracks only. Let's support Asian music and languages! 🎶Feel free to tag anyone who may be interested in participating. 🎶Add #5qls tag to your post for others to find the new favourites!

i'm not sure who to tag (maybe @hoppipolla my other Music Mutual; no pressure 💜) i hope i've done this right; let's go!

boun - your smile / between us

actually all of the between us osts they released post-series & their mvs slap, so it was really really hard to pick one. (regular ost good also,💜 u boy sompob). please also consider prem's it's always you & yacht&o's unexpectedly (yacht is such a good singer?????) but this one's my favorite. it's just so peppy and cute :')

coldin - romantic devil / semantic error

i went into this tag game knowing it'd ruin any chance of people thinking i am an Obscure Music Liker:tm:. yes my choices are popular but it's okay. romantic devil slaps so hard you guys there's just no getting around it. i highly recommend it for pretending u are in a music video while shopping, it's a really good soundtrack for that (also this live clip??? 💜💜💜)

khaotung - over the moon / the eclipse

look. look what did you expect

(to be clear my favorite khaotung song is actually never too late, but i haven't seen 55:15, so i can't in good conscience put that on here. listen to it it's so good)

i listened to over the moon prior to watching the series actually, courtesy of my spotify recs, and i do just really like it. there's a pretty decent chance it's gonna be in my top 10 in spotify later this year, i'd say. i love how echoey & vibey it is

gemini - hook / my school president

this is the best msp song don't @ me. sorry rock & star it is pretty close, but not that close. i always like a song like this that is about other songs (hozier's almost / sweet music too, ex); it suits tinn's character and the themes of the episode it's introduced in and it's just a very pretty song. gemini has such a nice high singing voice

beverly - andante hourglass / our dining table

i don't think i've seen it like, listed as that english title, but that's what sunadokei means. the ending theme of bokushoku is on kat's original list and also very very good, so a secondary add here, but i really like this op. her voice is very pretty & the song is bouncy and cute, and the lyrics meaning is so..... soft. about a slow-moving hourglass and the precious, dreamlike time we have, and that even when it runs out itll be okay. share all your sorrows and happiness as much as possible [cries a little]

bonus: gawin caskey's cover of bird thongchai's fog or smoke / dark blue kiss

gawin is the only bl guitar boy i'll defend to the death. ill defend some others but not to the death). this scene in dbk.... i actually stopped & went hunting for the original song (a banger!) bc i just really enjoyed his voice & how well the song & the ensuing conversation suited mork.

here's a full cover from a fanmeet with podd (although beware the audio quality and, bless him, podd joining in)

(also ALSO dbk's opening has such memorable violins i had to say something. its so catchy)

[lizzyiii]

The Dragon’s Treasure has my WHOLE heart 🥹

thank you, babe. i've really enjoyed writing her and aemond

The Dragon's Treasure (3)

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 11k words

summary | “...and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of happiness for the future.”

tags | as we all know ANGST, ANGST, ANGSTTTT, and eventually rainbow after the storm, SA! (aemonds brothel scene), things do get better y'all, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes, reader being a sensitive queen, and FLUFF and young love, aemond being a SIMP, TOOTHROTTING FLUFF

a/n | I cried so much, while writing this. I loved writing young aemond, I loved writing young helaena but especially loved writing young reader. I promise you guys this, when I have the time I'll write a one shot of them when they're older and more post-episode 7. When they're older (16&18). Also I really went overboard ngl

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You weren’t eating again.

Aemond had overheard his mother’s worried whispers as she discussed your condition with the maesters. He was still angry with you—hurt by the thought that you would try to leave them all behind, leave him behind, without a second thought. But no matter how deep his anger ran, his concern for you ran deeper.

After a long and contemplative ride on Vhagar, the weight of the sky above him and the sea below doing little to settle his thoughts, Aemond sought out his mother.

“Aemond,” Alicent began, her voice weary as she looked down at him, her exhaustion evident in the fine lines around her eyes. Between preparing for Aegon and Helaena's wedding and your worsening state, the strain was taking its toll. “I don’t think she’s in the mood for any visitors.”

She still didn’t know the full truth of what had happened—the attempt to run away with Helaena, the plan you had kept hidden from them all. All Alicent knew was that you had retreated into yourself once more, refusing to speak to anyone, even to Helaena, the one who had once pulled you from your darkness.

“It’s her nameday tomorrow,” Aemond murmured, his voice quiet but steady.

Alicent’s face tightened, pain flashing in her eyes as she thought of how you had been before all this—brighter, more spirited. Aemond continued, his tone soft but resolute. “She likes strawberry cakes. Let me bring her one, Mother. Please.”

Alicent’s gaze softened as she looked at her son. Her sharp, determined boy, scarred both in body and soul, yet still showing more kindness than anyone would expect after all he had endured. He had lost an eye, but his heart—his heart still carried a tenderness that surprised her.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping with the weight of her worries. “Very well,” she said softly. “You have my leave to visit her tomorrow.”

Aemond didn’t smile, didn’t show any hint of relief, though inside, the resolve in his chest tightened. He simply nodded in acknowledgment. His mind had already begun to turn over what he would say to you when he saw you—how he might reach you through the walls you had built around yourself.

Tomorrow was your nameday, and whether you liked it or not, Aemond would be there for you.

──────────────────────────────

Aemond’s heart raced as he approached your chambers, his hands gripping the tray carrying strawberry cakes. He had spent much of the morning thinking of what else he could bring—perhaps a necklace, something to match the sapphire that lay hidden beneath his eyepatch. You loved jewelry, and he knew how your eyes lit up at the sight of anything that sparkled. But in the end, he settled on simplicity—just the cakes you loved, hoping they would be enough.

As he neared your door, he was greeted by Ser Rowan, your loyal guard, who stood as firm as ever, his expression stern.

“My prince,” Ser Rowan acknowledged with a nod, his voice gruff. “The princess is in no condition to receive visitors today.”

Aemond stiffened, his chest rising as he squared his shoulders. He would not be turned away so easily. “It is her nameday,” he said firmly, his voice laced with authority. He took a step closer, meeting Ser Rowan’s unyielding gaze with his own, violet eye sharp. “The queen has granted me permission to visit her.”

Ser Rowan remained still, but Aemond didn’t back down. He tilted his head slightly, his tone low and challenging. “Will you disobey the Queen’s word?”

There was a moment of silence as the guard’s eyes flicked down to the tray Aemond carried. His stern expression softened just slightly when he saw the strawberry cakes. Ser Rowan let out a heavy sigh, his duty to you outweighing his hesitation. He too wished for your recovery, and perhaps, he thought, a visit from Aemond might bring some light back into your eyes.

“Very well, my prince,” he said at last, stepping aside. He opened the door with a creak, allowing Aemond to enter.

Aemond took a deep breath, holding the tray steady as he stepped into your chambers. The door closed softly behind him, but the room was dim, heavy with silence. His heart clenched at the sight of you curled up on the bed, facing the wall, your small form barely stirring.

"Niece," Aemond’s voice echoed softly through the room, breaking the heavy silence of your chambers.

There was a pause, and then your voice, quiet and tired, reached him. "Go away."

He pursed his lips, setting the tray down gently on the bedside table. The room was dim, shrouded in a pink hue from your curtains, and he made his way over to the window, pulling the drapes wide open. Sunlight poured in, casting the room in a golden glow.

From behind him, you hissed, "Close them." He heard the rustle of your blankets as you pulled them over your head, shielding yourself from the brightness.

Aemond couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he turned back to face you. "Happy Nameday," he said, his tone lighter than before. "I brought you something."

"I don’t want it," you muttered from beneath the covers, your voice muffled and distant.

He sat beside you, his movements careful, placing the tray of strawberry cakes within arm’s reach. "I’m sure you will," he replied softly, hoping to coax you out from your cocoon of blankets.

For a few moments, there was nothing—just the faint sounds of the breeze outside and the distant chatter from the courtyard. Aemond sighed, the weight of the silence between you heavier than he could bear. He reached out, his hand hovering just above your arm, but then hesitated. His fingers twitched before he pulled his hand back, unsure of how to communicate with you.

"You know," he began quietly, his voice careful, "I wouldn’t force that on you. To bear children you don’t want. One would be enough."

There was a sharp scoff from beneath the blankets. "How generous of you," you replied, the bitterness in your tone unmistakable.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze steady on the blankets that covered you. His mind drifted to the records he had been reading, the histories you both loved to discuss. He knew how much you valued stories of the past, of old kings and queens, of the lives they led. Swallowing, he decided to share what had been on his mind, hoping it might reach you.

"I’ve been reading more since our last talk," he murmured. "About King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. Even after many children, he made her bear more when she didn’t wish to." His voice was soft but steady, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He had been thinking of you, trying to understand your fears.

The sunlight streamed across your bed, casting shadows as Aemond spoke. He knew that love was rare among their kind, especially in Targaryen unions, but he hoped. Hoped that maybe, in time, you would not just be duty and title to him.

"I would never do that to you," he added, his tone sincere, almost vulnerable. "I want our marriage to be different."

The room was still. The only sound was the faint rustling of the breeze outside, and the quiet breathing of Dreamfyre from somewhere far beyond your window. Aemond’s words lingered, waiting for you to respond, to show him something—anything—that might bridge the gap between you.

Slowly, you lowered the blankets just enough for your eyes to peek out, meeting Aemond's gaze. "He was a bad man," you mumbled, referring to King Jaehaerys.

Aemond, ever the scholar, couldn’t resist. "He was a good king," he pointed out, his tone firm but calm.

You rolled your eyes, a small defiance shining through your sadness. "Still a bad man." For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, and then you added thoughtfully, "Aenys Targaryen was a good man."

Aemond let out a scoff. "He was weak."

You narrowed your eyes at him, but there was a flicker of something behind your lilac gaze, something like amusement. "A weak king, yes. Only because he tried to make everyone happy."

Your eyes shifted towards the tray on the bedside table, where the strawberry cakes sat. After a moment of hesitation, your voice, still tinged with sadness, broke the silence. "Is today really my nameday?"

Aemond nodded, his own expression softening. "Yes."

"Oh." Your response was quiet, almost absent-minded, as if you were still processing.

Aemond reached for the tray and held it out to you, offering a tentative smile. "Would you like one?"

You eyed the cakes, and though your sadness still lingered, something softened in your expression. "Those do look nice," you murmured. Finally, you pulled the blanket away from your face and sat up slowly, your movements careful and deliberate. Though your face remained neutral, devoid of the joy that used to light it up, you gave a small nod. "Alright."

Aemond couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face as he handed you a cake. It wasn’t much, but seeing you like this—out of bed, talking to him—felt like a small victory.

As you took a bite, your eyes flickered to his once more, and Aemond stayed beside you, content with the simple moment of shared silence, hopeful that things might get better.

Aemond felt as though he were trapped in a cage of unbearable heat, the air around him thick, suffocating. The wine—a dark, bitter liquid that Aegon had forced upon him—now churned wildly in his stomach, its taste sour and unpleasant. He longed to rid himself of it, to escape the strange and unfamiliar sensations overtaking him.

It was after the grand feast in honor of his thirteenth nameday that Aegon, with a sly grin and a glint in his eye, had promised him a "surprise." Aemond, still naive to the darker aspects of his brother’s humor, had followed without protest, his curiosity outweighing his caution. They had ventured deep into King’s Landing, to a shadowed place Aemond had never seen before—a pleasure house filled with laughter and the soft rustling of silks.

Before Aemond could voice his hesitation, Aegon had disappeared into the throng of bodies, swallowed by the merry voices and whispers of the women within. And Aemond was left alone, standing awkwardly, unsure of what was to happen next.

He was led into a small chamber, dimly lit by flickering candles, their soft glow casting strange and unsettling shadows on the walls. The tapestries that adorned the room depicted scenes he barely understood—men and women entwined in ways that seemed more confusing than enticing. He felt a knot tightening in his chest, and a cold wave of dread settled over him.

Then she entered—a woman far older than his mother, her presence overwhelming in the confined space. She smiled at him, her voice soft and syrupy, laced with sweet lies that made his skin crawl. She cooed over him, her hands reaching for him before he had the chance to say anything, her touch gentle yet intrusive as she began to undress him.

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest, and every fiber of his being screamed for her to stop, to leave him be. But his voice—his strength—had abandoned him. He remained frozen, his limbs stiff and unresponsive as she whispered things into his ear, words he wished he hadn’t heard, promises he didn’t understand.

When it was over, Aemond was left numb. He sat there, silent, as if his body no longer belonged to him, as though he had become something entirely separate from himself. Trembling, he fumbled with his clothes, his fingers shaking as he struggled to dress. His mind was a whirl of confusion, shame, and anger, but above all, he felt the desperate need to flee.

He didn’t care where Aegon had gone, didn’t want to face him or anyone else. The only thought that filled his mind was reaching you, his niece, his betrothed, his future wife, the one person who might make him feel whole again.

His feet carried him through the secret passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast, each step heavy with fear and sorrow. His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, his chest aching as he pushed himself to move faster. His tears—hot and unbidden—ran down his cheeks, blurring his vision, but he did not stop.

He passed his own chambers, the rooms of his mother, and everyone else, not wanting to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside him. He only wanted you.

It felt as though the gods had granted Aemond a moment of mercy when he reached your chambers, finding Ser Rowan absent from his post. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his heart still racing, tears brimming in his eye as he struggled to hold them back.

You were fast asleep, your back turned toward him. Aemond let out a quiet breath of relief. He hadn’t come to disturb you, only to be near you—just your presence, your warmth, was enough to calm the storm inside him.

Quietly, he made his way to your bed and carefully, as if afraid to wake you, slid in beside you. He kept a respectful distance, not wanting to intrude, but just close enough to feel your presence. The motion stirred you from your sleep, and you sat up, blinking in confusion.

Your eyes widened when they fell on Aemond, and for a brief, horrible moment, he realised it was because of his face. He had forgotten—he had left his eye patch behind at the brothel. The clear ragged sapphire was bare for you to see.

Panic surged through him. You would be disgusted, he thought, repelled by the sight of his disfigurement. He moved to leave, heart pounding, but your voice reached him before he could retreat.

“Aemond, breathe,” you whispered, your strained voice soft and steady.

He froze, his chest tight with the effort to suppress his panic. He needed to leave—he couldn’t bear for you to see him like this. Not you, his dearest niece, who always knew him as strong, as whole. He couldn’t let you witness the broken, ruined side of him.

But then, you reached out, grabbing his trembling hands in your own small ones, your touch warm and gentle. "Please, stay," you whispered, your voice filled with concern. Slowly, you began rubbing his cold hands, trying to bring warmth back to him, both in body and spirit.

His breathing was still uneven, but your soft words and the warmth of your touch soothed him. He looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. There was no disgust there, no fear—only worry and care. Just like before. Slowly, the tension began to leave his body, and for the first time since he had fled that terrible place, Aemond felt a glimmer of relief.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hands a little tighter. "I don’t care about your face, Aemond," you murmured softly, your tired lilac eyes meeting his. "I care about you."

As you gently laid back onto your pillow, you looked at Aemond with concern, urging him to lie beside you. He hesitated for a moment, but slowly, he did as you asked, his awkward frame seeming out of place in your small bed. You turned to face him, your wide lilac eyes full of care, while Aemond’s own single violet eye struggled to meet yours.

With quiet care, you reached out, placing your small hand on his scarred cheek. He flinched at first, his breath catching in his throat, but you didn’t pull away. Your fingers traced the jagged line of the scar that ran down his face, the skin rough beneath your touch. It was as if you weren’t looking at the scar at all, just him—Aemond, your beloved uncle, the boy who protected you, who read to you, who you always knew to be brave.

He shivered under your touch, his emotions twisting inside him. But you said nothing more, just a quiet, simple comfort.

“Sleep, Aemond,” you whispered softly, your voice gentle and soothing. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

The words wrapped around him like a balm, a promise in the soft glow of the dim candlelight. For so long, Aemond had carried his burdens alone, but in this moment, with your hand on his face and your soft breath mingling with the night air, he felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since Driftmark—peace.

His eye fluttered shut, and with the rhythm of your breathing beside him, he let himself drift away, finally surrendering to sleep.

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Aemond entered your chambers quietly, the weight of the box in his hands almost insignificant compared to the heaviness that lingered in the air. He had been allowed to visit freely now, thanks to Ser Rowan's softening stance, but each visit felt like walking on a thread, delicate and uncertain.

He paused when he saw you on the chaise, struggling with your embroidery. The soft light from the window highlighted the paleness of your features—still recovering, still distant, but better than before. You were eating now, and though your mood hadn't brightened, that small improvement brought Aemond some comfort. He cherished these moments, even if they were shrouded in silence.

"I've brought something for you," he said, his voice steady yet quiet as he approached.

You glanced up from your work but said nothing. The tangled mess of threads on the pillow caught his eye, and he bent slightly to inspect it, attempting to mask the awkwardness he always felt in the wake of that night. He hadn’t been ready to speak of it, and thankfully, neither had you.

"That’s a nice lion," Aemond offered, pointing to the uneven form stitched into the fabric.

Your lips parted slightly, a faint glimmer of amusement mixing with frustration as you murmured, "It was supposed to be the Queen."

Aemond’s lips twitched in response, nodding solemnly as if in deep thought. "Now that you say it," he replied, his voice light, "I do recognize her hair."

With a small sigh, you tossed the pillow aside like it was something offensive, watching as it tumbled to the floor, forgotten. Your eyes flickered towards the box in Aemond’s hands, suspicion mingling with curiosity.

"What have you brought me?" you asked, your voice quiet, but holding a hint of anticipation.

Aemond didn’t reply at first, simply stepping forward and offering the box to you, his expression unreadable. You hesitated for a moment, then carefully took it from him.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you lifted the lid, pulling back the fine paper that covered the gift inside. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you uncovered a stunning gown—lilac silk adorned with delicate embroidery, tiny jewels catching the light like stars. Your hands traced the fabric, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips, the craftsmanship clear in every stitch.

Aemond watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a shift in your expression—a glimmer of something that almost resembled joy.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice low, holding his breath as he awaited your response.

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in many moons, you smiled. It was small, barely there, but it warmed Aemond's heart like the sun after a long winter.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, still admiring the gown. "What's it for?"

"Helaena's wedding."

At once, the warmth in the room seemed to drain away. The smile you had given Aemond, fleeting as it was, vanished, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. His heart sank, watching as you carefully folded the gown, tucking it back into the box with deliberate gentleness. The delicate fabric crinkled under your hands as though it were something too precious to be touched, something that no longer belonged to you.

"I'm afraid you've wasted your efforts," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze fixed on the gown. "I'm not going."

Aemond's brow furrowed, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He stepped closer, his voice steady yet urgent. "You have to go."

But you refused to meet his eye. You knew how intense his gaze could be, how easily it could pierce through your defenses. Staring at the box instead, you shook your head, your words coming out firm, resolute. "I won't."

Aemond's lips pressed into a thin line, the familiar weight of your stubbornness settling between you both. "Helaena needs you," he urged, his tone softening, as if pleading might sway you.

You let out a bitter sigh, your fingers tracing the edge of the box, a dull ache settling in your chest. "Well, perhaps I can hurt her the same way she hurt me," you muttered, your words tinged with petulance, though the pain beneath them was clear.

Aemond stood in silence for a long moment, weighing your words, the tension in the air thick between you. His voice, quieter this time, broke the silence like a whisper carried on the wind. "Will you really not go?"

"No," you replied, though your voice softened now, the sharp edge of defiance fading. You hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing your face. You raised your chin, trying to hold onto the last bit of resolve. "Now, is that all you've come to visit me for?"

Aemond's heart ached at the sight of you—so distant, so caught in your own sorrow. He stood there, unsure of how to reach you, the distance between you feeling far more than just the space in the room.

The day of Helaena’s wedding arrived, and just as you had promised, you didn’t go. Aemond had come to your chambers in the morning, his expression pleading as he urged you one last time to change your mind. His words were careful, filled with the weight of his disappointment, but still, you remained firm.

You had refused.

As the sun set, casting a warm golden hue across the castle walls, you lay alone in your chambers, curled beneath the thick blankets on your bed. The echoes of the celebrations reached your ears in faint murmurs, muffled by the heavy stone of the keep. The joyous sounds of laughter and music only seemed to deepen the ache in your heart.

It was when night fell fully that the tears came, slow at first, then faster, spilling onto your pillow as regret took hold of you. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, but it did little to stop the sadness that had finally caught up to you. You could see it so clearly in your mind—Helaena standing alone in the grand Sept, a pale and fragile figure, her face drawn with sorrow. You imagined her forced to marry Aegon, the brother you both knew was unfit for her, and the weight of your absence pressed hard on your chest.

How could you not have been there for her?

The thought made you feel smaller, childish even. You had let your anger and hurt guide you, and in doing so, you had abandoned Helaena on one of the worst days of her life. She was likely miserable, her heart heavy with sadness, and you, spiteful and stubborn, had stayed away. You bit your lip, choking back a sob.

Your gaze drifted to the gown Aemond had gifted you, still lying folded neatly in the box by your bedside, untouched, its lilac fabric gleaming faintly in the moonlight. You reached for it now, pulling the soft material through your fingers as though it could offer you some comfort.

But it didn’t.

It only reminded you of the mistake you had made.

You missed your mother.

For all the hurt she caused, all the ways she had abandoned you, there was still a deep ache for her, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. You wanted to hate her, truly despise her for leaving you behind. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t. The love for her still clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t lose.

As the days passed in the quiet isolation of your chambers, you began to understand things you hadn’t before. With each lonely hour, the weight of your thoughts pressed harder on your heart. Your mother had been selfish, more than you had ever allowed yourself to admit. She had promised you the world, and yet, in the end, she had given you nothing.

You were her firstborn, the eldest of her children, and yet the title that should have been yours had been passed to Jace. He was her heir to the Iron Throne, the future king, while you were left to the shadows. Even Driftmark, the seat of your grandsire, should have been yours by birthright, but it had been given to Luke instead.

The bitterness inside you grew with every thought. You hated them now—your brothers. You knew it was childish, petulant even, but the feelings were there, and they wouldn’t leave. They had taken everything from you. Titles that were rightfully yours, the pride of riding dragons, and worst of all, they still had your mother. They were together as one big happy family on Dragonstone, while you had been left here in King's Landing, a forgotten daughter in the midst of their enemies.

“It’s fine,” you whispered to yourself in the dark, trying to believe it. You had never liked Dragonstone anyway, with its cold winds and sharp rocks. But even as you said it, your heart tightened with the lie. You missed the place, the warmth of the hearth, the sight of the sea from your window, and the feeling of belonging—something you hadn’t felt in so long.

And in the quiet moments, when the anger settled and the room was still, you knew the truth. It wasn’t your brothers’ fault. They hadn’t asked for this, to be born as they were, with all the whispers and shadows cast over their lineage. No, it was your mother’s choices that had led to this. Her indiscretions. But even as that truth formed in your mind, you found that you couldn’t hate her.

It was easier to be angry with them—with Jace and Luke—because hating her, the one you loved most, was something you just couldn’t bear.

──────────────────────────────

"I hated you, you know."

Aemond's head jerked up, eyes widening at the unexpected words. He had been sitting quietly in your chambers, absorbed in a thick tome about the horrors of Essos. You stood across the room, brush in hand, painting the pink walls of your chamber as if it were any other day. But there was a tension in the air, a weight to your voice that made his heart quicken.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the canvas as you murmured, "When you claimed Vhagar, I hated you."

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. Aemond’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you. The stillness of the room was broken only by the soft strokes of your brush against the canvas.

"I feel as if I hate everyone," you continued, voice tight and strained. "I hate Luke and Jace for stealing my titles." Your brush moved faster, more aggressively. "I hate Daemon for stealing my mother. I even hate Baela and Rhaena, if only because they get to have her now, as if she’s theirs instead of mine."

A scoff escaped your lips, but the sound was bitter. Aemond noticed the way your hand trembled slightly, how your breath caught as tears glistened in your lilac eyes.

"I hated Helaena for not running away with me," you whispered, the words coming out choked. "And I hate myself for not having a dragon, for not being someone important, someone worthy of a title."

Tears began streaming down your face, and yet you kept painting, as if the act itself could somehow keep the flood of emotions at bay. Finally, your gaze lifted from the canvas and met Aemond’s. His heart clenched at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

"And I hated you," you said, voice breaking, "for claiming Vhagar and leaving me alone in this world."

The sob that followed was wrenching, and Aemond couldn’t stay still any longer. He moved toward you, closing the distance between you both with careful, deliberate steps. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you wept.

"I don’t want to feel this way," you cried into his tunic, voice muffled and raw. "So pathetic, so angry at everyone. But I can’t help it. And yet, no matter how hard I try, I can never hate her."

Aemond’s chest tightened at your words, his own emotions swirling in a storm he didn’t know how to express. He rested his chin gently on your head, holding you as tightly as he dared, feeling the weight of your pain as if it were his own.

"I know," he whispered softly, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

And so he held you, offering no more words, just the quiet comfort of his presence as your tears slowly soaked into his shoulder. He wished he could consume your pain and take it away, wished he could make things right. But all he could do was stand there, arms around you, as the world outside seemed so far away.

──────────────────────────────

“How is Helaena?”

It was the first time in what felt like forever that you had left your chambers. Aemond had been persistent, urging you to take some air, to leave the four walls that had become your prison. Reluctantly, you agreed, and now the two of you sat beneath the heart tree in the Godswood, surrounded by the stillness of nature. Aemond had brought a stack of books, ones he knew you both enjoyed, hoping they might distract you.

“The same as ever,” Aemond answered absently, his attention flickering between the pages of the book in his lap and the rustling leaves above.

He paused, glancing up at you. "She’s set to give birth in three moons' time," he added, his voice soft, as if the thought still surprised him.

You looked down, your heart aching at how quickly time had passed. It had been almost two years since you had returned to King’s Landing, and though you tried to avoid thinking about it, you knew things would never be the same. “Is her pregnancy going well?” you asked quietly, your voice small against the whisper of the wind.

Aemond pursed his lips, his brow furrowing in thought. “She has strange cravings," he said, his voice low. "And her belly is… large, perhaps too large for just six moons.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. “I’m sure a visit from you would lift her spirits,” he suggested, his tone careful, as though he didn’t want to push too hard.

You shook your head almost immediately, your silver curls spilling over your shoulders. “I’m not sure it would,” you murmured, your voice full of doubt.

Aemond studied you for a long moment, his sharp violet eye watching the way your expression shifted, the way your gaze seemed to turn inward. "She speaks of you sometimes," he said quietly, trying to find the right words to reach you. "She misses you."

You sighed, pulling your knees to your chest as you looked away from him, your fingers tracing idle patterns in the grass. You missed her too.

Aemond, noticing the sadness clouding your face, cleared his throat, quickly steering the conversation elsewhere. “Perhaps when you feel better,” he began, his voice lighter, “you could join me on a ride with Vhagar.”

Your head snapped up in surprise. “Me? Ride Vhagar?” You shook your head. “I’m not sure Vhagar would like me. A loud, annoying girl.”

Aemond raised a brow, his face dead serious. “If that were true, Vhagar would’ve eaten Baela and Rhaena years ago.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you laughed. A real laugh, bubbling up from deep within, spilling out in a way that felt foreign yet so relieving. Two years of being shut away in your chambers, and now here you were, laughing at Aemond’s dry humor. The sound filled the Godswood, bright and full of life.

Aemond, momentarily stunned, blinked at you in astonishment. He hadn’t expected it, not after everything, but when his mind caught up, a broad smile tugged at his lips. The kind of smile that was rare for him, genuine and unguarded.

“Vhagar will love you,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. He hesitated for just a moment, his thoughts turning to words he longed to say but didn’t. Just as I do, he thought. But instead, he insisted with a warmth in his tone, “I’m sure of that.”

You gave a small shrug, murmuring, "Maybe," without truly committing to the idea.

Aemond studied your face for a moment, his heart lighter at the sound of your earlier laughter, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. "I claimed Vhagar for the both of us."

Your expression shifted in an instant, the color draining from your face as you stared at him. "What?" you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Aemond averted his gaze, trying to appear casual, though his heart raced. "I remembered what you said—about sharing a dragon. And when your dragon egg didn’t hatch, I decided... Vhagar should be for both of us." He looked up, meeting your startled lilac eyes with his steady violet one. "For you and me to share."

Tears welled in your eyes without warning, and Aemond’s calm composure crumbled. He immediately scrambled to your side, kneeling in the grass and reaching out to comfort you. "No, no, I didn’t mean to make you cry," he said, his hands hovering nervously, unsure of what to do.

You waved his hands away, though a small smile began to form through your tears. "I feel a bit foolish now," you admitted, as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

Aemond took your hands gently in his, bringing them to his lips in a tender kiss. "And so?" He whispered, his gaze filled with sincerity.

As the tears dried on your cheeks, you let out a shaky breath, though your nose remained a bit red. "But... I think Vhagar is much more suited for you," you finally said, your voice still soft but calmer.

Aemond nodded, willing to agree if it brought you comfort. "Will you still consider joining me?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

You looked at him, your smile returning, this time more playful. "I shall," you said with a teasing glint in your eyes, your hands still resting in his.

──────────────────────────────

"Princess, are you almost done?"

Ser Rowan’s voice was tinged with exasperation as he stood with arms raised, holding the pose you had instructed. You had begged him to model for your painting when he arrived to greet you at dawn, and now the sun was climbing high in the sky, casting warm rays through the window. Despite the time, he remained your patient subject.

"Almost, Ser Rowan," you replied cheerfully, your brush gliding across the canvas as you focused on capturing the details of his expression.

The knight let out a weary sigh, feeling his muscles beginning to stiffen. Yet he would endure anything to keep the smile on your face; he was your willing captive, devoted to your whims.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Ser Rowan instinctively straightened, positioning himself protectively in front of you. He relaxed his stance when he saw Prince Aemond enter, though a worried look darkened the prince's features.

"Aemond, what’s wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing in concern as you set down your brush.

The prince was out of breath, urgency threading through his voice. "Helaena went into labor last night. It’s been long and difficult. She’s calling for you."

Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth in shock, struggling to find your voice amidst the sudden rush of fear and worry.

Before you could respond, Ser Rowan spoke softly but firmly. "Princess, we must go."

You nodded, the news settling in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold. You hurriedly followed Aemond and Ser Rowan out of your chamber, your heart pounding with a mix of concern and guilt.

Thoughts raced through your mind—what would you say to Helaena? Would she forgive you for not being there these past months? You hadn’t seen her in nearly ten moons, too consumed by your own sadness to leave your room.

As the three of you made your way to the birthing chambers, the air felt thick with anticipation. Upon reaching the door, you encountered another guard who bowed respectfully at your approach.

"The princess has successfully given birth, your Highnesses," he announced, his voice steady.

You and Aemond exchanged a glance, relief washing over you, and he offered you an encouraging nod. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to enter and see Helaena, the weight of your past decisions lingering in the back of your mind, but hope beginning to spark within your heart.

As you stepped into the chamber, your eyes immediately found Queen Alicent standing in the center, cradling a tiny bundle in her arms. A soft glow of love radiated from her as she looked down at Helaena's babe, a precious life nestled against her.

Your gaze shifted, and you gasped softly when you finally spotted Helaena on the birthing bed. To your astonishment, she was holding another baby as well.

"Twins," you murmured, the words slipping out louder than intended, catching the attention of both the Queen and Helaena.

Alicent's eyes widened in surprise, and a warm smile spread across her face at the sight of you. "Princess, it brings me joy to see you out of your chambers," she said, her voice gentle.

You nodded, feeling a rush of embarrassment as you shifted your gaze back to Helaena. She was already looking at you, her expression filled with a mix of fatigue and joy. Slowly, you approached the bed, holding your breath as you took in the sight before you.

The babe in Helaena's arms had the unmistakable silver hair of House Targaryen, a stark contrast to the dark-haired children of your brothers. You couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl, but the sight of the tiny face, so fragile and perfect, made your heart swell.

"What are their names?" you asked softly, careful not to disturb the babe's slumber. Your voice barely rose above a whisper, filled with wonder.

A tiny smile bloomed on Helaena's weary face, her eyes lighting up with pride. She gestured to the babe nestled in her arms. "This is Jaehaera," she said, her voice tender. Then she nodded toward the child cradled by Queen Alicent. "And that is Jaehaerys."

You nodded slowly, feeling a swell of warmth at the names, though a shadow lingered in your mind. You didn’t dare ask where Aegon was; the thought of him missing the birth of his children felt too heavy to voice. Carefully, you settled beside Helaena on the birthing bed, the air filled with soft silence and the smell of newborns.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, unable to meet her gaze as your eyes traced the delicate features of Jaehaera. The babe's tiny fingers curled and unfurled, and your heart ached with a mix of joy and regret.

Helaena's hand found yours, giving a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Looking up at her, a relieved smile broke through your sadness, tears glistening in your eyes. In that moment, the past felt a little lighter, the bond between you strengthening. But then Helaena's expression turned hopeful. "Would you like to hold her?"

You immediately shook your head, anxiety creeping in. "I don't know how."

"I didn’t know how either before this," Helaena said, her voice soft and encouraging. She carefully passed Jaehaera into your arms. You cradled the babe as if she were made of glass, your heart racing with both fear and delight. "It’s very easy."

A small laugh escaped you, bubbling with nervousness. "She’s very small."

"Yes," Helaena murmured, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. "Just as we were once."

You gazed down at the sleeping babe, feeling the weight of her tiny form in your arms. You glanced up at Helaena, her eyes shining with love and hope, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of happiness for the future.

You let out a huge yawn as you finally walked back to your chambers, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders. You had spent most of your time in Helaena's chambers, cradling Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in your arms. Queen Alicent had eagerly encouraged your visits, saying it was good practice for when you would have your own children with Aemond.

The thought felt strange yet comforting. After so many hours spent with the tiny babes, you found yourself warming to the idea of one day having a child with Aemond. Of course, that was a distant thought; you were only twelve now, and marriage was still years away. Yet, the notion no longer filled you with dread.

As your health improved and your mood lightened, Queen Alicent insisted you return to your princess lessons with Septa Agertha. The strict septa had been happy to resume your lessons, and to your surprise, she seemed kinder and softer than before, guiding you patiently through your studies.

Despite your busy days, you always tried to carve out time for Aemond. You cherished those moments, whether you were reading together in the library, basking in the sunlight of the gardens, or watching him train with his sword. Today, you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he took down Aegon during practice, his movements fluid and precise.

As you entered your chambers, your eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of Aemond standing amidst the soft pinks of your room, a striking contrast in his dark green leather. He looked entirely out of place, and the nervous smile tugging at his lips only deepened your suspicion.

"It is highly improper for you to visit my chambers so late, Aemond," you teased, crossing your arms as you arched an eyebrow. "Does Ser Rowan know about this?"

Aemond’s smile grew as he replied with a hint of mystery, "Ser Rowan does not know all the entrances to your room."

You rolled your eyes, amused but unconvinced. However, something behind Aemond caught your attention—a small object sitting on your table. You moved closer, but Aemond swiftly stepped in front of you, his hands gently resting on your waist to stop you.

"Wait," he said quickly, clearing his throat. "Before you get angry… don’t. Just trust me."

You eyed him suspiciously but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Happy Nameday," Aemond said quietly, almost as if he were embarrassed by the gesture.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Aemond, my nameday was a week ago."

"Still," he muttered, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

With curiosity getting the better of you, you gently pushed past him, approaching the table where the mysterious item sat. There, on the table, was a small brazier pot, the kind used for hatching dragon eggs. Your heart quickened as you slowly lifted the lid.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips when you saw the sparkly navy blue egg resting inside, hot as ever. "Aemond," you whispered, feeling a mix of exasperation and affection.

Aemond stepped up behind you, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, "I know. But you know what they say—fourth time’s the charm."

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes as you turned to face him. Your noses were practically touching as you corrected him, "It’s third time’s the charm, you stubborn idiot."

"I also brought strawberry cakes," Aemond said, seeing that the sight of the dragon egg had done little to lift your spirits.

You tilted your head with a small smile, "You know the way to my heart, Aemond Targaryen."

The two of you found yourselves lounging on your grand pink canopy bed, nestled among the cushions, feasting on strawberry cakes that Aemond had brought for you. The scent of the sweet berries filled the air, and for a moment, all seemed simple and light in your world.

“Aemond, I’ve been thinking,” you began thoughtfully, wiping a bit of cream from your lips.

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk. “My, my, that is worrisome,” he teased, his voice playful.

You shot him a sharp glare before rolling your eyes. With a lift of your chin, you said firmly, “I’ve decided our first child must be a girl.”

Aemond blinked at you, stunned by the declaration. “You understand we do not get to choose, yes?”

You waved his words away dismissively, as if the very idea of leaving such an important matter to chance was absurd. “I believe if I am firm in my belief, then I shall have the choice,” you replied with the confidence only a twelve-year-old could muster.

Aemond gave you a long, bemused look, as if weighing your words for any sense. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “Why?” he asked, indulging your fanciful notion.

“Do not mistake me,” you began, leaning back into the pillows with a thoughtful expression. “I love both Jaehaera and Jaehaerys equally. And if we were to have a son, I would love him just as much.”

A big, silly grin spread across your face as you continued, “But I want a daughter. I want to dress her up, match with her, and have her follow me around in little gowns.”

Aemond gave you a knowing look. “You have Jaehaera for that.”

You pouted dramatically, the cake in your hand momentarily forgotten. “It’s not the same. Jaehaera is Helaena’s, not mine.”

Aemond chuckled softly at your logic. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, raising his hands as if surrendering. “I shall pray to the Seven for us to be blessed with a daughter first.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Perhaps a daughter and a son at the same time?”

You glared at him, flicking a cake crumb in his direction. “Why would you wish something like that upon me? Twins?” You shook your head vehemently.

Aemond’s amused smile only widened as he met your deathly serious gaze. “You’re right, my bad,” he said with a chuckle, brushing the crumb off his tunic.

You huffed, but your irritation quickly melted away as you stuffed another bite of cake into your mouth, a small smile tugging at your lips. Despite his teasing, you knew that Aemond would pray to the Seven for whatever you wished—even if that meant asking for something as impossible as choosing your firstborn's gender.

You glanced down at the strawberry cake in your hand, scrunching your nose. "With all this cake you keep bringing me, Aemond, I’m going to grow fat."

Aemond gave you a thoughtful look, his expression serious yet teasing at the same time. "And? Do they not say that more is always better?"

You tried to hold back your amusement, but despite your best effort, a smile tugged at your lips. You sighed, shaking your head as you chuckled softly. "You’re incorrigible."

Aemond tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Perhaps. But I speak the truth." His eye glimmered as they held yours for a moment longer. "A bit of extra weight would not lessen your beauty."

You blushed, looking away from him as you fiddled with the edge of your dress. "You say that now," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your heart felt light.

"I shall always say that," Aemond countered smoothly, his voice unwavering, as if he truly meant every word. "No matter what the years bring, you will always be perfect to me."

A warmth spread through you, making your cheeks burn even more. You tried to dismiss it, waving a hand at him. "You just want me to keep eating cake so I’ll be too heavy to run away when you’re being impossible."

Aemond smiled at that, his violet eye gleaming with mirth. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you happy. And if it takes cake to do that, so be it."

You laughed then, shaking your head at him. "You’ve won this time, but I’ll have my revenge when I’m too fat to walk."

Aemond smirked, leaning closer to you with a satisfied look. "I’ll carry you, then."

You tilted your head, rolling your eyes at Aemond, wondering why he was looking at you like that, as if the world had shifted between the two of you. Somehow, without realizing it, you had drifted closer, your faces mere inches apart. You could feel his breath, soft and warm, as he leaned in further. His eye fluttered shut, and your heart skipped a beat as you sensed what was coming.

Before anything could happen, your hand instinctively shot up, covering his mouth. Aemond froze, opening his eye wide to see you staring at him with confusion. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice full of suspicion.

He mumbled something beneath your hand, and you lowered it, giving him a curious look as you tried to catch his words.

Clearing his throat, clearly embarrassed, he murmured, "I was trying to kiss you."

You squinted at him, still doubtful. "Aemond," you began cautiously, "Septa Agertha says if a maiden and a man kiss, she’ll become with child. And I think we should at least wait until the twins’ first nameday before we bring another baby into the castle."

Aemond’s lips pressed together tightly, trying to suppress a laugh. His ears turned red as he responded, "Maidens do not become pregnant because of kisses."

"Then how do they become with child?" you asked, raising a challenging brow, your tone daring him to contradict what you’d been taught.

Aemond’s face flushed deeply, and his gaze flickered away in sheer embarrassment. He seemed to search for a way to avoid the topic. "Your Septa will tell you... in time," he muttered, clearly hoping to escape further questioning.

You were about to protest, about to accuse your Septa of lying again—how could you trust her after she said that about kissing? But the sight of Aemond’s bright red cheeks and the way he squirmed told you it was better to drop it. So, with a sigh, you decided to change the subject. "So then," you asked, "why do people kiss if it’s not to make babies?"

Aemond shifted awkwardly before murmuring, "To show affection. It’s what people do when they love each other. Married couples especially."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow, folding your arms. "I’ve never seen my mother and father kiss. And I’ve never seen Grandsire and the Queen kiss either."

Aemond made an exasperated sound, running a hand through his hair. "Well... they’re different," he said, sounding both frustrated and amused.

You tilted your head again, considering his words. "Different how?"

"Just different," Aemond replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you. "Not everyone is... affectionate like that."

"So, you want to kiss me because you’re affectionate?" you teased, a small smirk growing on your face.

Aemond’s ears burned again, and he glanced away, muttering under his breath. "Something like that..."

You tilted your head, watching him with amusement before shrugging nonchalantly. "Alright," you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "You may kiss me."

Aemond's head snapped back toward you, his eye wide in disbelief. "Really?" he asked, unsure if you were being serious.

You nodded, offering him a small smile before puckering your lips in a way you thought was appropriate for a kiss. "Go on, then," you said, your lips pursed in a dramatic display.

Aemond stared at you for a moment, utterly bewildered. "You can't stare at me like that," he finally managed, his voice a little strangled as he glanced away again, clearly nervous.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, "Alright, Aemond," and then did as he requested, squeezing your eyes shut. You sat there, waiting for him to make the first move, your heart thumping in your chest even though you tried to act as though it didn’t matter at all.

The room felt strangely quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. You could hear Aemond shift slightly, feel the warmth of him as he leaned in closer. The air between you felt charged, as if something important was about to happen.

His breath ghosted across your lips, soft and hesitant, and your heart skipped a beat. But just as you thought the kiss was going to happen, Aemond hesitated again.

"Are you certain?" he whispered, his voice soft and uncertain, as if he didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.

Without opening your eyes, you replied with a huff, "Yes, Aemond. Just do it."

Aemond finally leaned in, pressing his lips gently to yours in the briefest of kisses. It was awkward and tentative, like neither of you really knew what you were doing, but it was soft and sweet in its own way.

When he pulled back, you opened your eyes, blinking at him. The two of you sat there for a moment, staring at each other in silence, unsure of what to say or do next.

"Well?" Aemond asked, his voice low, his cheeks still a little flushed. "How was that?"

You pursed your lips, considering. "It wasn’t so bad," you admitted, then smiled, a hint of mischief in your eyes. "But I don't think that’ll make me with child, so Septa Agertha must be wrong after all."

Aemond let out a small, relieved chuckle, the tension easing from his shoulders. "No," he agreed quietly, "that won't make you with child."

You both shared a soft laugh, the awkwardness melting away as you realized it wasn’t as strange or nerve-wracking as you thought it would be.

Still, after a moment, you tilted your head and added thoughtfully, "Mayhaps we can try again another time... just to make sure."

Aemond’s face broke into a wide grin at your words, and he shook his head, still amused. "Whenever you like," he promised softly, his voice full of warmth.

Aemond’s smile remained as you shared a quiet moment, a comfortable warmth settling between the two of you. His words, soft and full of promise, made your heart flutter a little, though you tried to ignore it. Just as you were about to speak, a strange sound filled the room.

You paused, frowning in confusion as the sound persisted. Aemond’s brow furrowed, and he gave you the same puzzled look. "What is that?" you asked, your voice low and uncertain.

Before Aemond could answer, the sound came again, louder this time—a soft, irregular rattling, like something gently tapping against metal. Both of you turned your heads toward the source of the noise, your eyes settling on the small brazier pot resting on the table beside your chaise.

The pot was trembling slightly, the lid shifting ever so subtly as if something within was stirring to life.

You exchanged a wary glance with Aemond, both of you too stunned to speak. Hope flickered in your chest, a fragile, cautious feeling that you tried desperately to suppress, even though it grew with each passing second. You didn’t want to feel it—not again. Not after so many failed attempts, so many disappointments.

But as the rattling continued, you couldn’t help but let that hope bloom, filling your chest with an almost painful intensity. You could feel Aemond's steady gaze on you, as if he too shared your mixture of anticipation and disbelief. His hand lightly touched your arm, offering silent reassurance as you both stood frozen in place.

Finally, the rattling grew louder, more insistent. Aemond moved first, stepping cautiously toward the brazier pot, his movements careful, as if approaching something fragile and dangerous all at once.

Your heart pounded in your ears as Aemond gently reached out and lifted the lid.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. You held your breath, waiting, expecting the worst, but then—

A small, sharp crack echoed through the air, and your breath hitched in your throat. Aemond’s eye widened in astonishment as he stepped back slightly, motioning for you to come closer.

With shaky steps, you moved forward, peering into the brazier pot. Inside, nestled among the glowing embers, was the dragon egg—your dragon egg. And it was moving.

Tiny cracks began to spread across the surface, like delicate lines etched into stone. A tiny chirp escaped from within, soft yet insistent, and your heart leapt in your chest.

Aemond’s voice was barely a whisper, full of wonder. "It’s hatching."

You didn’t dare speak, afraid that if you did, the fragile moment would shatter. Instead, you watched in awe as the cracks grew wider, the shell breaking apart bit by bit.

Slowly, a tiny snout poked through the shell, followed by a pair of gleaming, sapphire-blue eyes that blinked up at you curiously.

Aemond’s hand slipped into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to smile.

"It’s really happening," you whispered, barely able to contain the joy welling up inside you.

Aemond stood beside you, his gaze never leaving the hatchling, and he nodded, his voice low but filled with a kind of quiet awe. "Yes, it is."

The tiny dragon stretched its delicate wings, the membrane translucent in the firelight, revealing the rich, dark blue that shimmered against the glow. It was so small, fragile even, yet there was a certain strength in its movements, as though it knew its place in the world. Its scales appeared nearly black in the dim light, but with each flicker of the brazier’s flame, a glint of deep sapphire blue reflected back at you, shimmering like the ocean at night.

You couldn't hold back the soft laugh that bubbled from your lips, a sound of pure, unrestrained joy. Your laughter caught the attention of the little dragon, whose head turned sharply towards you. It blinked, tilting its head, studying you with wide, curious eyes before letting out a sharp screech in response. The sound, though high-pitched, was surprisingly strong for such a tiny creature.

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you knelt closer, your hand trembling slightly as you reached out, but you stopped just short of touching it. It felt too precious, too delicate to handle without care.

"Hello," you murmured, your voice soft and gentle, as though speaking to an infant. "Aren't you absolutely beautiful."

The little dragon blinked again, watching you intently. Its tiny nostrils flared as it took in the scent of the air, its wings fluttering slightly as it made a sound that almost resembled a purr. You couldn't help but smile wider, your heart swelling with affection.

Aemond crouched down beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he watched the dragon with a look of pride and admiration. "You were meant for each other," he said, his voice filled with certainty.

You looked up at him, tears still brimming in your eyes, and nodded. "I think so," you whispered.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in quiet awe, watching as the dragon stretched its limbs, adjusting to the world it had just entered. It was strange how something so small could carry such weight, as if this tiny creature already held within it the potential for something great, something magnificent.

As the little dragon shifted closer to you, its warmth radiated through the air, and you felt a bond forming, something deeper than words could express. This was more than just a pet, more than a companion. This was a piece of your soul, reflected in scales and wings, fire and strength.

Aemond’s smile softened as he watched you with the newborn dragon, his gaze flicking between the two of you with a quiet fondness. "What will you name it?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

You beamed at the little creature before you, a warmth blooming in your chest as you finally dared to reach out. Gently, you brushed your knuckle against her soft, dark scales. She—yes, she was definitely a girl, you were certain of it—immediately leaned into your touch, her tiny body pressing closer, as if seeking comfort from your warmth.

"Treasure," you whispered, the name slipping from your lips without hesitation. A wide, contented smile grew on your face. "Her name is Treasure."

Aemond blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected name, but then a grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. Of course, you would name your dragon something soft, something sweet and endearing. It was just like you to choose a name that carried such a feeling of warmth, rather than something fierce and grand.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "Treasure?" he repeated, his eye twinkling with affection as he looked at you.

You looked up at him, still stroking the dragon’s scales, and nodded firmly. "Yes. Because she’s my treasure," you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Aemond’s grin only widened as he crouched down beside you again, watching as Treasure nestled closer to your hand, clearly content with the name and her newfound bond with you. "A fitting name," he said quietly, and in that moment, as he watched you and your dragon together, he could see how the two of you were meant for each other.

Treasure let out a soft, sleepy sound, curling closer to the warmth of your hand, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace. The bond between you and your dragon was only beginning, but it was already something special—something that would only grow stronger with time.

this is anything but the end

guyssss help, im literally crying thinking about young rhaenyra (milly) and reader as a baby. how reader probably became rhaenyra's new best friend and was the only thing keeping her going in court. And how rhaenyra would talk to her as a full-grown person, while reader, being a baby, would just babble back. And how rhaenyra would probably walk around taking her baby everywhere and riding on Syrax with her. BYE lol that just makes it all sadder

(side note in my head ive decided to give reader/y/n the most basic hotd name and name her aemma. because when she has her own daughter with aemond, she'll name her laenora after her father)

Treasure The dragon

I can just imagine reader doing that Sweeney Todd trend with Treasure:

ohh mr.todd 💋 i'm so happy 💋 I could - 💋 eat you up I really could. you know what I like to do mr. todd 💋 what I dream 💋

Ser Rowan

(it's rick grimes because I say so) (note I've only watched two episodes of the walking dead)

Reader's Mind in a nutshell

(I feel if I made this into a full time fic, reader could lowkey have saved the family and avoided the dance of the dragons entirely)

Hope you enjoyed!

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@evernores @jouryuu @dbd-mommy @g-cf2020 @sl-ut @radiantdanvers @sillysillygyalsmh @callsignwidow @missyviolet123 @thelastemzy @lechat-rouge @sonichkkaaascreams @djarinsstuff @yovrnewromantic @waiting-fortheupdate @strawberymilktea @ninihrtss @kenqki @winter-solstice24 @darlingcharling-blog @feyresqueen @momoewn @literishdegree99 @xxxkat3xxx @6000-fandoms

[crowleyholmes]

hi there chris! since the new year is approaching rapidly, i wanted to ask my favorite creators (that includes you! i love your art!) how they look back on their 2023 tumblr year and which blogs made them happy to be here. i am very happy to follow you and hope you'll have a great 2024! 💘

Hiiii omg this is so sweet and means a lot to me, thank you! 🥺💕

I've been meaning to do a little end-of-the-year shoutout/love post for some of my favorite blogs, so I hope you don't mind if I use your ask as the perfect excuse!

I've had many fun years on tumblr, but this one has been extra special. Falling into the Good Omens fandom and meeting all of you amazing people has made this year so so SO much better than it otherwise would have been, so here are some special shoutouts (apologies, I'm sure this will get long, things like this tend to get away from me, so I'll put it under a read-more)

@majortomyourcurcuitsdead SASHA can you believe I was going to just send you an anon telling you that I think you're cool and leave it at that. Can you believe it. WELL thank Somebody you had your anon turned off and I had to expose myself in your dms because it feels like we just instantly connected about like 20 different things and haven't stopped talking since sskjdfhs anyway I'm so happy I met you you're so fun and so clever and so talented and so enthusiastic and I've only known you for like. What 2 months?? Ish? But I already love you so much <3

@lineffability !!! Line you are so *struggles to find words* you're just great is what you are okay. I feel like you are what happens when somebody takes a big cup and puts six shots of love, chaos, sunshine, talent, fun, and enthusiasm into it, generously sprinkles intelligence on top and gives it a good stir. I don't even remember how or when or why we started talking tbh? But your creativity is so inspiring, and some of my favorite tumblr-moments of this year have been 'yes-and'ing with you about one thing or another in a very >:3 manner hahah so! my point is! i love you lots <3

@dontbotheraziraphale Teeeedddd you're wonderful, I vented at you one time and then we talked for like 2 hours and at the end of that 1 conversation I already considered you a friend - and not just in that "tumblr mutuals who talk 1 time are my friends" kind of way but like. Genuinely. You're so kind and so fun and every time we talk it's such a good time ily a lot my bro my buddy my man <3

@crikey01 Tallulah HI I also completely forgot how we started talking but I remember connecting the dots that you were the one who painted those INSANE black and white and gold oil paintings and the way my jaw dropped like?? BRO you're so talented I admire you so much! And I love that we bonded over stopping each other from masochistically checking certain peoples' blogs... 😂 Anyway you're so sweet and fun and ily lots <3

---

The list could probably go on but you four are the people I've talked to most on here and you're the tumblr chat boxes I never close but always just minimize and y'all better see this as the ultimate internet declaration of affection that it Clearly is >:D 💕

---

And here are some more shout-outs because I just HAVE to.

Apologies, I know I've already tagged a bunch of you recently in a mutuals appreciation post but. This is my official thank-you-for-2023 post and I just have a lot of love for you all okay sorry feel free to ignore this <3

@rowan-ashtree (i'll text you back soon I promise I'm sorry I just haven't had the brain-space recently ssjkdfh) @crawley-fell (we've never talked but i love you from afar :')) @ineffabildaddy @llokilaufeyson @actual-changeling @saryasy @hyperfocusthusly @beccibarnes @rainbowcrowley @thesherrinfordfacility @goodoldfashionednightingale @wibbly-wobbly-blog @highlyillogicalandroid (i see your data obsession and i agree <3) @tortugay @foolishlovers @stargazing-crowley @gingiekittycat @weasleywrinkles @bildads-shoes @finleycannotdraw @bowtiepastabitch @heytherefluffy @samwwise @nocturnal-birb @athousandyearstime @angelsdiningattheritz @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer @jedthesecretdreamer @wraithee @hydrangeadangea @southfarthing @frodo-baggins @mobius-m-mobius

[acourtofthought]

your last theory post is sooo true and the irony is that Azriel is like, the most angry and violent fae to ever walk the earth... they are so deeply mismatched it hurts that they have so much traction from people who don't understand their characterization.

You message is giving me a platform to bring up something I've been thinking about ever since I saw something in the Elain tag (posted by an E/riel) so thank you for that!

They were making fun of Elucien's and Gwynriels who claim that because Gwyn and Az both sing and are winners of the Rite, because Elain and Lucien are both good at talking to others and enjoy nature it means they're compatible in a way E/riel are not.

Their counter argument was that Rhys does not paint and Rowan does not play an instrument therefore an endgame pairing doesn't need to share in the same hobbies.

Which is valid.

But these are the exact same people who claim Vassa and Lucien are endgame because of the "Lord of Flame and Bird of Fire" line.

That's pretty much the entirety of what the Vassien ship is based on for them. Similar powers somehow equals endgame but not matching interests.

They'll claim it's also because Lucien blushed when Feyre called him an acolyte (though he looked right at his mate during that interaction) but they'll ignore how Az actually blushed at Mor and looked at her with yearning with Elain in the room. Or because Lucien looked relaxed talking to Vassa after the war but please show me what endgame pairing has looked like friends before beginning to fall for one another? I mean, in early days, not the enemies to friends to lovers trope she does during a characters arc. Please show me an SJM endgame pairing where the guy has been living with his supposed endgame love interest for an entire year as friends but still looks at another girl with longing? And not just any girl, his mate!

Similar interests are not the end all for a true match but neither are similar powers.

And when you look at the characters outside of their hobbies (as you pointed out in regards to their characterization), that's where their true compatibility shows.

Az is violent. Like seriously violent. Knows how to torture in a symphony of pain that made Feyre uncomfortable to witness just a bit of it violent.

Elain is bothered by cruelty and Az says she has no idea the things he's done.

Gwyn may not have witnessed Az torture a defenseless person but she has seen him slaughter men in front of her showing no mercy. She was also excited over the thought of the Valkyrie's crushing skulls.

I think it's pretty apparent which female is more compatible with Az.

Elain is very social, loves parties and balls, loves talking to people, loves sunshine.

Az is reserved, likes his space, is not very social, and prefers the shadows (and his are actually afraid of the sun). He says his shadows keep him company meaning they are independent of him, sentient.

Gwyn was training by herself in the cold of night and treated the shadows as if they were their own persons. She finds the most comfort in the library which is inside a mountain.

Elain has never acknowledged his shadows as individuals.

Lucien loves parties and is amazing at talking to others. He is also the heir to the Day Court throne and that means lots of Sun.

The author also said that Elain and Lucien are happiest in nature, something she's never said of Az.

Elain and Az don't need the same hobbies but it wouldn't be a terrible thing if they had some of them, correct?

That's still not the most important thing though, what is, is sharing in the same core values and they are not even close when it comes to those. Az and Elain might find one another attractive but they have nothing beyond looks that would keep them together.

[the-maddened-hatter]

I'm kinda 50/50 about actually responding, but I love ask & tag games!

Name(s): Hatter or more occasionally Ozzy for the internet

Pronouns: ooh that's kinda tough idk what I more fully prefer yet, but I know I like They/them so let's stick with that for now

Star sign: Sagittarius

# of siblings & fun facts about them (if you have any): I don't technically have siblings, but I do have a friend I grew up with who I consider to be my brother (usually when he comes up on here I refer to him as my brotherneighborfriend)

# of pets & their names: Sadly none currently, my dog Shadow passed away last year, but she was a wonderful mutt who my family and I think had some Rottweiler in the mix

Fandoms: Ohhh I have a LOT of media I enjoy, a few I can think of off the top of my head in no particular order are Steven Universe, Brokenwood Mysteries, Father Brown, Muppets, Bob's Burgers, Pokemon, Star Trek (DS9 or Voyager are probably my favorites of them), The Magnus Archives, and Madoka Magika

Favorite color: Orange

Favorite song: I think the 4 in current ties with one another are Crazy Train by Ozzy Osborne (because I heard it at a very specific point in my life and it helped me get out of an unhealthy mental state so now I love it forever), Starry Starry Night by Don Mclean (because of its beauty, subject matter, and how uncomfortably relatable it feels during periods of depression), Under Pressure by Queen (I heard it when I was younger, but the depth of the message and the emotions connected to it only get deeper & stronger as I get older), and People Like Us by Kelly Clarkson (because I heard it at the first ever drag show I went to this year and it was beautiful)

Favorite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!): Neil Gaiman, most especially for his short stories! Also one of my favorite ever books is The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Hobbies: Loom knitting, baking, I like cooking but I do it less than baking, and I *like* writing but it's hard for me to get my ideas out

Favorite fic type: I'm a sucker for a good (or at least enjoyable sickfick/hurt&comfort fic. Also while I don't tend to get terribly invested in them, I think Au fanfics are really cool & creative when done well!

Favorite holiday: I really like Christmas! It's fun to decorate, bake, and I like getting gifts for people, I'm not good at showing affection even when people mean the world to me, so that's a good bridge for me

Do you have any partner(s)? (romantic, qpp, anything!): I do! He's not on Tumblr though

Fun facts about you / anything extra you wanna share!: 1. the person who tagged me and I compiled a list of trans & otherwise gender affirming resources (link in my pinned). 2. I once made brownies that drew blood. 3. I'm 4' 10" (ALMOST 4' 11" so sometimes I'm allowed to count as that)

Tags: @cingulata @garlic-the-gnome @a-walking-fandom-reference @sweetsbunni @sunnyhouseplant @crustaceousfaggot @arthurdoe @digital-magus

I got bored so here's a little get-to-know-you tag game I think could be fun :3

Name(s)

Pronouns

Star sign

# of siblings & fun facts about them (if you have any)

# of pets & their names

Fandoms

Favorite color

Favorite song

Favorite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!)

Hobbies

Favorite fic type

Favorite holiday

Do you have any partner(s)? (romantic, qpp, anything!)

Fun facts about you / anything extra you wanna share!

────────

Name(s): Loki (highly preferred), Elye

Pronouns : they/them mostly, he/she okay too

Star sign: Pisces

# of siblings: I've got 2! An older sister and a younger sibling. The fun fact about them is that they're also both queer; in fact, my mom is too. The only non-queer person in my immediate family is my dad.

# of pets: 4 cats! Phoebe & Frankie are our girls, Lenny and Murray are our boys :3

Fandoms: MCU (kind of), BSD, OFMD, Ranboo (does his fanbase count as a fandom?)

Fav. color: Don't have one

Fav. song: Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon

Fav. author: Alice Oseman

Hobbies: singing, acting, drawing, writing, procrastinating

Fav. fic type: Fluff, definitely. I am a sucker for well written coffee-shop and flower-shop aus, too. Smut's fine, but only if it's romantic. I can't do angst if there's no comfort.

Fav. Holiday: Hanukkah or Halloween! I love autumn and winter

Partners?: Yes! I have a girlfriend (queerplatonic) who I love very much, and a boyfriend (romantic) who I love very much :]

Fun facts:

- Even though I'm a cat person, I really, really want a dog.

- I actually used to play sports. Because I don't do gendered leagues anymore, I don't play, but I've been looking for mixed/gender-neutral/queer sports teams. Baseball and basketball specifically!

- I started questioning my identity in 2019; I'm no closer to finding a label now than I was then. The difference is, now I don't want a label. I just am. :]

tags: @neonganymede @cha0ticlesbian @x-chiara @exceleo @brinnybee @autistic-katara @gandalfthemorallygrey @ohboyanotherlokiblog @roachandrenfri @ourflagmeanslokius @exceleo @edettethegreat @swiftlyspidey

[acourtofquestions]

“She had no magic to wield, save for the keen eyes of the goddess at her shoulder and an uncanny ability to remain unnoticed, to play into expectations.”

[narcissosbythepool]

More of pricegaz Rosie AU, in which Gaz and Price have a baby together. This fic is a companion piece to this wonderful art by Rowan. Price finally gets to meet newborn baby Rosanna !

Tags: established pricegaz, trans pregnancy (Gaz), mentioned c-section, extremely schmoopy parental feelings

//

John has been in scary situations before – life-threatening ones, truly abhorrent, desperate places. 

Nothing so far has prepared him for 6 missed calls from Dorothy.

The moment they’re allowed to make contact with the outside world again, he dials her back immediately, praying the entire time that the dread turning his guts upside down is unwarranted.

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles into the receiver, until the call finally connects.

“John?”

“Is he alright?” are the first words out of his mouth. “Kyle, is he alright?” He sounds frantic even to his own ears.

“More or less,” Dotty says, and she sounds calm enough that John can at least catch his breath a little. “He called me over when he suddenly had strange pain, and we’re at the hospital now.”

Well, there goes his composure.

“And?”

“They’re prepping for an emergency c-section,” Dorothy says. “There is a chance that the baby’s going to end up entangled with the umbilical cord, and she’s a breech too, so we decided that it’s safest to cut her out now.”

John wonders if he’s going to black out. It feels like it.

“Alright,” he manages. “Are you with him?”

“Yeah, he’s here. I’ll give the phone to him.” She pauses. “He’s on some pretty strong painkillers already, though, so he’s a little loopy.”

“Thank you, Dorothy.”

There’s a rustling sound as Dorothy hands the phone to Kyle.

“Sweetheart?” John calls for his love and Kyle chuckles back – the sound is enough to soothe his wildly galloping heartbeat.

“It’s cute when you call me that,” Kyle tells him. The corner of John’s mouth lifts a little.

“You broken?”

“Nah,” Kyle replies. “Not really.”

“You alright then?”

“If an emergency surgery is alright, I guess.” There is a pause, and when Kyle continues he sounds a little slurred: “I wish you were here.”

“I know,” John says, “and I’m sorry. I’ll come as fast as I can, okay? I’ll make Nik break traffic laws.”

“Oh, he’ll like that,” Kyle chuckles again. “Crazy, huh? The baby coming out.”

“That’s one word for it.” John rubs a hand over his eyes. “Dotty is with you, alright? And when you wake up, I’ll be there. You’ll be…” He swallows. “You’ll be fine.”

“Mmh. You better be here then. I’ll kidnap the baby and disappear if you’re not.”

“Ah, threatening me already. I’ll do my best, but you’ll have to blame Nik if I’m late.”

“I’ll shave his head,” Kyle mumbles back and John finally cracks up.

“I’ll tell him to hurry, then.” 

“I love you,” Kyle says, and what else can John reply:

“I’ll be there.”

*

Once he gets to the Gloucester Royal Hospital, he practically runs to the maternity ward nurse station.

“I’m here for Kyle Garrick,” he says, barely catching his breath. The nurse at the station raises her brows and then smiles.

“John Price?” she asks cheerily.

“Yes.”

“You’re the other father, then,” she says. “Good that you could make it. Kyle seems to be out of surgery by now, I’ll get someone to pick you up and take you to him.”

The short wait time while she flags down another nurse feels like standing on hot coals. John checks his phone again – Dotty hasn’t replied anything yet, but she also hasn’t called again so things can’t be going too badly. He walks back and forth, goes to wash his hands in the restroom, and then goes back to pace in front of the station.

“John?” he hears and perks up. A dark-skinned woman walks up to him with a smile. “I’m Najin, come this way.”

“Thank you— is he alright? I tried to get here as soon as I could—” John trails off, feeling vaguely ashamed.

“He did mention you were probably breaking a couple international air traffic laws to get here,” Najin chuckles. “He’s alright. The surgery went well and he’s expected to have a full recovery. Your daughter is also healthy.”

John nods and tries to remember how to breathe.

They walk down the hallway, until Najin slows down in front of one of the doors, which then opens and out steps Dorothy, about to leave the room.

“John!” she exclaims and then John has his arms full of Kyle’s sister as she jumps in his embrace. “You made it!”

“Thank you, Dotty,” is all John is able to choke out, squeezing her closer.

“Of course,” Dorothy says and pats his back, pulling back, and now that John can see her face properly, her eyes are a little bit puffy. “I’m going to get some coffee. Go meet your kid. She’s mad cute.”

“Alright,” John manages.

“Kyle fell asleep a while ago, poor guy’s knackered,” Dorothy addresses Najin, who nods, and she pats her on the shoulder as she walks off – John assumes they probably know each other, perhaps former coworkers or school friends. “See you soon.”

Najin walks him into the room, where John’s eyes first zero in on Kyle’s sleeping form. He wonders if the explosion of affection in his chest will ever go away – he hopes not. Kyle looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and guilt worms its way in his thoughts again.

“Sir,” Najin reminds him, “this way.”

And then John lays his eyes on Rosanna Garrick Price.

He walks slowly to the see-through crib, where the smallest baby he’s ever seen sleeps soundly, snuffling in her sleep. 

He can’t quite describe the emotion. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. 

“She’s…” he whispers, “small.”

“She is premature,” Najin smiles. “But she’ll start growing before you even notice.” She then touches his arm and says warmly: “Congratulations, you’re a father.”

That finally breaks the dam.

The first sob takes him nearly by surprise. The second less so – soon enough he’s bending over the crib, tears running down his cheeks as he tries to catch his breath. Najin’s smile widens and she rubs his arm in comfort.

“Can I hold her?” John manages between his hiccuping sobs.

“Of course,” Najin says, “do you want me to show you how?”

John nods – he knows how to hold babies, but his brain feels wiped clean as he stares down at his daughter. Najin helps the baby in his arms, making sure he’s supporting her neck, and then John suddenly finds his arms full of his child.

He’s always been good with his hands. They’re calloused from work, used to the weight of a gun or a knife, scarred from ropes and wires. Dependable, fast, swift. 

He thought his hands had found their calling holding a weapon.

He’s never been so wrong.

A new purpose opens her eyes in his arms and squints up at him for a moment – and then she sighs and burrows closer to his chest.

This does not help with the tears.

Najin leaves his side to check up on Kyle. John is only vaguely aware of her moving, so fixated on little Rosie. He rocks her a little back and forth, staring at her in awed silence. He’s never really been a crier, he thinks absent-mindedly, but apparently once the tears started falling he can’t stop them now. Every time he looks at her face, his chest constricts with an emotion that he doesn’t know he has ever felt before. 

Dear god, he has loved before. He loves Kyle more than he can count the stars in the sky, he loves his team, he’s loved people he has lost. He thought he knew the limits of it, until Kyle came into his life, and when he thought he had felt it all in full, here comes this little wonder and surprises him again.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers to her, “I can tell already.”

Rosie merely huffs at him. He guesses he deserves it, disturbing her beauty sleep.

And oh, she is a beauty. She’s a bit wrinkly, as newborns are, her little face scrunched up as she concentrates on stealing his heart with every single breath, probably dreaming of her world domination once she wraps him around her tiny pinky finger.

“Sir?” Najin calls out to him. 

John hums, acknowledging he’s heard her.

“Kyle will probably be asleep for a while, but nothing seems wrong here, so I’ll leave you two for now. If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to call on us.”

“Thank you,” John says, finally tearing his gaze from Rosanna to meet Najin’s wide grin. “Sorry for, uh…” He lets out a shuddering laugh. “The mess.”

“It’s alright,” Najin laughs. “Best part of the job. Have a nice evening, sir.”

“Thank you, again,” John replies earnestly, and Najin leaves with a friendly wave.

John looks down at Rosie again. Tears well up in his eyes once more and he can’t help but laugh.

“You’re probably the first girl to make me cry like this,” he chuckles and then sniffles, trying to gather himself. “Let’s go wait for your dad to wake up, alright?” He then pauses and frowns as a thought suddenly occurs.

“I didn’t introduce myself to you, did I?” He wipes her tiny cheek with the tip of his finger. “I’m your Da.” A smile breaks on his face again. “Nice to meet you, princess. Let’s hope you get your looks from your Dad and not me.” Another pause. “Don’t tell him I said that, alright?”

Rosanna’s nose twitches in agreement.

John sits on Kyle’s bed, careful not to jostle either him or Rosanna. He looks over to his sleeping partner. 

What is he going to say? There is no gratitude, no apology, no atonement or glory great enough. Kyle has given him everything. There is nothing without him. He is nothing without him. How does one express that? How can he ever express how he feels right now, how Kyle has turned his world upside down with this blessing? There are no words for this – perhaps there are poets who could speak it into being, but all John knows is that there is a fire inside him that won’t go out. 

So he waits, holds little Rosie in his arms and waits.

At some point the sheets rustle as Kyle shifts, and John gets to watch his lashes flutter as he fights his way to wakefulness.

“Hey,” John whispers. Kyle cracks an eye open.

“Hi,” he replies, voice raspy. “You made it.”

For a moment John wonders how to speak it into being, this feeling that surges inside him like a rising tide.

Before he can come up with a reply, Rosie wiggles in his arms. He looks down at her and—

“Bloody hell, I haven’t stopped crying since I saw her,” John chokes out. “Every time I look at her, I just…”

“Break open all over again? Yeah,” Kyle chuckles, and as John turns back to him with tears streaming down his cheeks, Kyle’s smile has widened to a proud grin.

“I love you,” is what comes out of John’s mouth, and Kyle’s expression slacks to one of surprise – and it is rare that he’s able to drag the words out of his mouth, but there simply is nothing else to say. “I love you, alright? I am nothing without you, and I’m so proud of you.” He leans in carefully to press a soft kiss on Kyle’s forehead, trying not to jostle Rosie too much, and when he pulls back, Kyle brings his hand to John’s cheek to wipe away his tears. John leans into the touch, closing his eyes for just a second.

“You better be,” Kyle says, and his voice is so soothing, as exhausted as he sounds. “I did that all by myself.”

John kisses his palm.

“That you did.”

END

[leiawritesstories]

The Universal Rules of Mistletoe

a fun, hopefully cute, little fluffy fic based off this prompt from @rowaelinprompts "Our friends set us up under the mistletoe"

a gift for @sahana-draws!! happy @rowaelinscourt Rowaelin Secret Santa! it's been so much fun working on this little piece and I really hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 2,054

Warnings: none! (just clueless idiots in love)

Enjoy!

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Fifteen Years Ago

Shiny patent-leather shoes tapping lightly against the hardwood stairs, Aelin hurried downstairs as fast as she could while in her poofy red tulle Christmas dress. Five steps up from the bottom, she stopped, peering across the wide hallway into the main floor of the Galathynius home, which was full of beautifully dressed adults. Her eight-year-old imagination latched onto the sight of her mom and dad with their hands linked, smiling and laughing as they talked with their friends.

She wanted everything they had when she grew up.

Slowly, a little nervously, she moved three more steps down, stopping again as the nervousness flared up in her stomach. This was the first year she had been allowed to come to the Christmas party, and even though her babysitter would be there with her, she wasn't sure if she could do it.

"Hey." Another voice--a boy's voice--interrupted her scattered thoughts. Rowan Whitethorn, the boy from next door whose parents were longtime friends with Aelin's parents, stood on the other side of the staircase railing, looking at her with solemn green eyes. "I like your dress."

"Thanks," she said, smoothing her small hands down the fluffy layers of the skirt. "Mom let me pick it out."

Rowan grabbed two of the stair rails, using them for support as he rose onto his tiptoes to stick his head over the top of the banister. "Are you gonna come to the party?"

"I dunno." She stood on the last step, one hand lingering on the banister. "There's only grown-ups there."

"I'm there too," he said. "Hey, do you wanna play party tag?" Party tag was a game they had invented two years ago, when they were six and seven, during one of the many events Aelin's parents had hosted. Because Rowan and Aelin were so young, they would show up at the event for a bit to be cooed over by all of their parents' rich friends, and then be swept off away from the event. They'd invented a quiet, no-running form of tag where whoever was "it" would have to sneak up on the other person and subtly tag them. Nobody could run, and there had to be at least two minutes between tags.

It was more fun when one of their friends was also at the party, but they made it work with just the two of them.

Aelin cracked a small smile. "Okay." She stood up and stepped off the last stair, and he walked around to stand with her. "Are we gonna go now?"

"Yeah, we--"

"Oh, Enna, look!" Evalin Ashryver Galathynius's voice floated in alongside a cloud of her expensive designer perfume. "Our little ones seem to have found the mistletoe!"

Alarmed, Aelin looked up, finding a small bunch of mistletoe tied with a crimson ribbon hanging from the chandelier above the staircase.

"You know what that means," Enna Whitethorn beamed, setting her champagne flute aside and whipping her phone out of her clutch. "Rowan, darling, do you want to give Aelin a kiss?"

Rowan's whole face turned bright pink. "Do I have to?"

"No," Aelin whispered, blushing just as bright. "It's just a stupid thing the grownups do when there's mistletoe."

"Of course you don't have to," Enna reassured her son. "But it would make such an adorable photo, right Eva?"

"Oh, it would be precious!" Evalin agreed. "Fireheart, will you at least pose there for a minute? Yes, just like that! So cute!" She snapped a few photos in rapid succession as Enna did the same. "Enna, could you get a few of just me and Aelin?"

Relieved, Rowan hurried to stand next to his mother as Evalin came over to Aelin. "You look beautiful, little Fireheart," she said warmly, tidying the big red bow in Aelin's blonde hair. Enna snapped a few photos, and Evalin took Aelin's small hand in hers. "Are you ready to come to the party?"

Eyes wide, Aelin nodded. "Do I have to stay for very long?"

"Just long enough to say hi to a few people." Evalin squeezed her daughter's hand. "I promise. Then you and Nehemia can go have your movie night, right?"

"Uh huh." Aelin straightened her spine, a move she'd seen her mother do endless times. "I'm ready." Quietly, Rowan fell into step next to her, his mother on his other side. And, with her mother on one side and her best friend on the other, Aelin felt a little better about going into the grown-up party.

~

Present

Aelin was halfway through curling her hair, lips held apart while her matte crimson lipstick dried, when a rapid-fire knock drummed against her bathroom door. Before she could respond, the door swung open and Elide Lochan, her second cousin and dear friend, barged into the bathroom.

"I'm not dressed!" Aelin yelped, scrambling to pull her satin robe closed while still holding the curling iron in her other hand.

Elide rolled her eyes. "I can tell, Ae. Don't worry, you still have an hour before anyone is supposed to get here."

"You could've said that before you ran in here like everyone had already showed up," Aelin grumbled. "But thanks, Ells."

"No problem." Elide grinned. "Nice lipstick. Gonna get it all over someone's face tonight?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Aelin snorted. "Gods, no. I'm the host, not some teenager who can run around all night kissing the boy she has a crush on."

"You're also twenty-three and you work too hard." Elide snatched the curling iron from Aelin's hands and took over curling her hair. "You deserve to have a little fun at your own freaking Christmas party."

"Yeah, sure," Aelin said sarcastically. "Bring me a man to kiss under the mistletoe and we'll see about that."

Elide smirked. "You're on."

An hour later, Aelin headed down the stairs, the same staircase she'd walked down every day since she was a little girl, and paused at the bottom step to take a deep, preparatory breath. You can do this, Galathynius, she told herself silently. Everything was all set up--the dining room table with a charcuterie spread, the silver-and-blue themed Christmas tree in the foyer, the large, open living room adorned with soft twinkle lights and decorative snowflakes and soft music piping in through the speaker system her parents had installed years ago. It's going to be just fine.

The doorbell rang.

Collecting herself, Aelin stepped off the stairs and went to the front door, a gracious smile spreading across her face. Her smile brightened when she found her cousin Aedion and his fiancée, Lysandra, waiting on the front step.

"Merry Christmas, Ae!" Lys squealed, hurrying inside. "Let us in, it's freezing!"

Aelin laughed. "Hi, Lys. I missed you!"

"You wouldn't miss me if you weren't working all the time," Lys teased, hugging Aelin tightly. "That dress looks fantastic, oh my god."

"Thanks," Aelin whispered back. Her crimson silk dress--of course her lipstick matched her dress--had thin straps, an elegantly scooped neckline, and was fitted in the bodice before flaring into a spill of floor-length skirts.

Aedion wrapped his arms around her. "You're not this tall," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "It's called stiletto heels, genius."

"Sounds dangerous." He winked.

"Only for you boys who don't want to feel short." She laughed. "Hi, Aeds. How's wedding planning going?"

"Do not get me started," he groaned. "I'm so stressed, and our wedding isn't until another seven months away."

"Hey, relax. Have some punch. Just think about Christmas for a while, not the wedding."

"I'll try." He flashed her a grin.

The doorbell rang again, and Aelin opened the door to find four six-foot-plus men crowding her front steps, acting like small children with their elbows everywhere even though they were all at least in their mid-twenties.

"You can't all fit through the door like that," she drawled, beaming.

Fenrys elbowed his way through the others and broke into the house first. "I win!" he crowed, sweeping Aelin into a hug that pulled her off her feet.

"Good grief, Fen, you haven't even had any drinks yet!" she laughed. "Congratulations on winning whatever it is you think you won."

"He thinks it's a competition to get into parties first," Connall, his twin, explained. He affectionately tugged Fen's man bun. "Put the host down, Fenny."

"Don't call me that, you little--" Fen put Aelin down and went after Con, who'd sauntered away into the living room.

"They're all children, I'm sorry." Rowan pulled off his heavy winter jacket and shook the film of snowflakes off his pale hair. "Merry Christmas, Aelin--oh my god." He stared at her for a good long minute, his eyes wide and his jaw slack.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Lorcan drawled, nudging Rowan int he shoulder. He wrapped his own arm around Elide's shoulders; the two of them had been dating for just over a year and Aelin had never seen Elide so happy.

"Merry Christmas, Ro." Aelin restrained her giddy smile and did a little spin to show off her dress. "Thanks for--oh!" Rowan caught her, pulling her into a warm, pine-scented hug.

"You look stunning," he said softly. "I didn't know if I could say that in front of all the others, they'd never shut up about it, probably because they know how much I like you...uh, because we've known each other since..." He trailed off, blushing fiercely.

Shocked, Aelin looked up at him, her thoughts going a mile a minute. "You...me...what?" She shook her head. "I'm going insane. I need a minute--five minutes--I--" Abruptly, she hurried towards the stairs, only managing to get two steps up before Rowan's hand closed gently around her wrist.

"Hey." He stabilized her, his voice as grounding as it had been since they were little kids going to their parents' party for the first time. "I'm sorry, Ae, I didn't mean to scare you."

She turned around. "You didn't scare me, Rowan. You just...you said you like me?"

"I like you, Aelin." Warmth and a smidge of uncertainty flickered in his eyes. "But if you--"

"Stop that right now," she chided softly. "I thought I was always going to like you from the shadows, Ro. I've had a crush on you since we were kids."

It was his turn for stunned silence. "I should have said something years ago," he finally said, chuckling in disbelief. "I guess--"

"MISTLETOE!" Elide all but shrieked, completely shattering the mood. She--and everyone else, good grief--were suddenly piled into the walkway between the foyer and the living room, eagerly watching the couple on the stairs.

Aelin felt her face heat up, and she was on the verge of running upstairs to hide from everyone. Rowan was blushing again, even as he threw a glare that screamed "Traitor!" at Lorcan, who was smirking.

"Looks like you're together under the mistletoe, Ae," Elide repeated, beaming so wide Aelin almost thought her cheeks would split. "You know what that means!"

"That someone set us up?" Aelin asked, suddenly wondering how convenient it was that she and Rowan had had that moment together on the stairs.

Elide shrugged, her eyes bright. "There's universal rules of mistletoe, Aelin, and you're gonna have to follow them."

"We knew it!" Fenrys blurted, unable to control the secret. "Why else would we have gone into the living room as soon as we got here?"

"Fenrys!" came a collective groan.

"We shouldn't have told him," Lorcan half-mumbled, shaking his head but grinning. "Boyo has a bigger mouth than anyone I know."

"I know they're our friends," Aelin whispered to Rowan, grinning, "but I kind of want to kick them all out of my house right now." She looped her arms around his neck. "I want you all to myself."

"Me too, but we can hardly ignore the mistletoe rules." He gave her a secret, quietly joyful little smile. "Can I?"

"Please do." She tipped her head up and met his lips, his kiss soft and sweet and lingering. Completely perfect.

They only separated at the cheers and whoops of their friends, and they came into the party hand in hand, laughing, and hardly left each other's sides all night long, because sometimes, it took the quiet scheming of dear friends to get the couple who was quietly in love with each other to admit it.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[beachyserasims]

My Top 24 screenshots of 2024 🎉🎉

Thank you for the tags @sirianasims , @blvckentropy , @honeyjars-sims , and @feroshgirlsims !! I have been a little MIA lately, but seeing everyone's favorite screenies from this year has me SO inspired to keep creating and also share my own.

January

Rowan & Judi on their final date and Autumn & Darion on their final date for Geneva Island

February

The finale of Geneva Island!

March

Autumn and Darion settling in while Rowan and Judi go through it

April

Rowan snowboarding and hanging out with friends in Mt. Komorebi

May

Rowan coming home and finding himself in Selvadorada

June

Judi and Rowan rekindling their relationship and their sick makeovers

July

Judi's move and Rowans vacay

August

Welcoming Reginald Thompson , and Autumn with her handmade dress for her charity event

September

The happy new couple while Arielle and Rowan get closer

October

The Lonely House series with my family featured in it

November

Reggie's bday with homemade honey cake and Darion's family rushing over for support

December

Autumn and Darion's surprise bachelor/bachelorette party where Rowan and Arielle caught up with each other

It's actually so incredible to see the progression from my Geneva Island series all the way into seven chapters of the legacy, from the quality of screenshots to the characters involved in each sims personal story. I can't wait to continue into the new year, and looking back definitely makes me hyped and ready to move forward strong!

Thank you again to everyone who tagged me and who also interacted with my story this year, you all inspire me to keep creating myself and I wouldn't be as confident with it as I am without all of you <3

Tagging for their own 24 faves of 2024 : @shesthespinstersimmer , @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants , @jayveesim

(I'm pretty late to this so if you've been double tagged by me I'm sorry!! I'm actually super hesitant to tag anyone else eeek!)

[alolanrain]

I’m just going to start piling my Ta!au quotes into one post instead of spamming everyone's timeline with it. 

----------

(after a missions, Ash had a nightmare and can’t sleep and neither could Rowan)

Ash: That’s a terrible story.

Rowan: not all of us fight Gods and win, my boy. so take what I have. 

Ash:.... tell me how you survived the Dragalge again? 

----------

(later in the Alola timeline-think before Kukui announces the first league)

Ash: You're an asshole, you know that?

Lillie: Mankey see, Mankey do.

Ash: *flashbacks to all the times he’s used the exact phrase* *deep sigh* fair enough. 

------------

(on a simple date after a long stake out mission)

Ash:*tired AF* Are you going to keep looking at me like that or are you actually going to kiss me?

Raihan: Can’t I enjoy looking at my meal before digging into it? 

Ash... *tired, flustered and now angry because he’s flustered*

Raihan: *too pleased, the smug bastard* that’s what I thought. 

------------

(after noticing Meowth working at the new malasada truck outside of school, completely ignoring James and Jessie who ignore him in return)  

Ash: hey-not here to pick a fight, put your claw’s away-do you know Lillie’s brother?

Meowth: *suspicious but interested* the emo kid? 

Ash: yeah.

Meowth:... why? 

Ash: would it be insulting to you if I call him a ragged wet Meowth? 

Meowth: *instantly relaxing* if you don’t call him that I will. 

Ash: *grabbing the malasada's James hands him without making him pay* let’s tag team him then. 

Meowth: sounds perfect to me, now get going. you’re holding up the line Twerp. 

-----------

(meeting and conversing with Goh and Chloe for the first time)

Goh: my mission is to catch Mew and then go on my first Pokémon journey!

Ash: *bites tongue and thank the legendries he’s where sunglasses to hide his uncontrollable flash of anger* 

Chloe: Don’t listen to him-

Goh: Hey!

Chloe: -he’s the dumb one

Ash: *silently already picking favorites* I see. 

------------

(after a prank war) 

Gary: does my life truly mean so little to you? 

Ash: *w/ neon green hair and permanent marker on his face* YES!

------------

(on a random Tuesday in Alola) 

Ash:*swinging in a hammock with sunglasses and his hat* Are you here to kill me? *slurps annoyingly loud at his drink*

Mewtwo:... no but I’m thinking about it now.

--------------

(after loosing the kids in the forest for a while)

Ash: where have you been!?

Lana: *sopping wet*

Mallow: *beginning of a rash on her lips* 

Kiawe:*looks like he got into a fight with something and lost*

Sophocles: *also looks like he got into a fight with something and lost*

Lillie: *covered in flowers with a few Cutiefly buzzing around her* 

Lana: I think you already know. 

-----------

(Champion meeting in Kalos-Lance is sick and Ash is his second by Orange Isles proxy)

Diantha:  You're late. As usual.

Ash: *not high as a kite but not sober either* be happy that I’m even here in the first place. 

Rose: it’s really innapro-

Ash&Diantha: not a word out of you. 

------------

(Kiawe and Lillie hanging out with Ash even though he’s cleaning all his knives)

Ash:  Put that down! You're like a child.

Kiawe: *pouting and placing down a sheathed knife* I’m a teenager, not a child. 

Ash: uh-huh. 

------------

(Ash begrudgingly letting Lana indulge the rain before class one day)

Ash:  Well, don't stand there in the rain all day. Come on.

Lana: but I like the rain.

Ash: okay-let me rephrase then so you understand. Don’t make me give you detention-

Lana: *darts on past* 

Ash: *smirking and start to trail behind* that’s what I thought. 

-----------

(after being trailed by some mercenaries from a Gala) 

Rowan: we’re safe now, aren’t we boy? 

Ash: *checks around corner of the alleyway they ducked into to loose their trackers* Yeah... yeah I think so old-

Goons: *appearing on the other side of the alleyway* there they are!

Ash&Rowan: *in unison* fuckshitfuckingtitballs-

----------

(in Hisui) 

Ash:  I swear it wasn't me.

Cyllene: *annoyed but in a motherly way* now why don’t I believe that? 

Ash:.... because I’m your favorite survey member? *Growlith eyes and slight cheeky smile*

Cyllene: get out of my sight.

Ash: *squeaks* yes, Captain!

---------------

(after an intense debrief after a mission going tits-up as Ash was unknowingly stalked by another mercenary)  

Gary: Who did you piss off this time?

Ash: *slumping down in a chair next to Gary and the large as computer screens* it’s more like who I haven’t pissed off. 

-------------

(after first trimester of finals)

Kukui: *walks into the classroom, see’s Ash blank face and staring at the other doorway where Kukui originally left though* 

Ash:

Kukui:

Ash: 

Kukui: you gonna keep staring or what? 

Ash: *broken out of the strongest dissociation spell in a long time**jumping out of his seat and making a fool of himself while falling down onto the floor* cheese and crackers on balls, you motherfucker- 

[thedaselcor]

Twenty Questions for Fanfic Writers

Tagged by @tansyuduri (thanks!) Taggong forward: @cat-in-a-tesseract , @gallows-into-oblivion , @mxkelsifer , @miyriu , @toomanyfanficsbruh

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Not including unrevealed exchange works I currently have 60 works on Ao3.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

135,630

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Dragon Age and Mass Effect (ThedasElcor , ThedasHanar)

Merlin (OAFelcor)

Overwatch (MildBeagle)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the hope of a new life (38 kudos)

Mass Effect Andromeda Evfra de Tershaav/Female Ryder | Sara I'm always a bit disappointed about this one because I had a whole subplot involving this Ryder being deaf and specifically preferring hearing aids to corrective surgery but I didn't have time to really perfect it before the exchange deadline so I had to scrap it.

a love that burns like holy fire (32 kudos)

BBC Merlin Arthur/Merlin I just started this one not long ago and it's really been neat to see it take off and have a huge welcome from the Merlin fandom, it's been a really cool community to join. The concept for this one is that Merlin is Transmasc, and that he uses magic as part of his gender affirmation, and somehow that leads to all sorts of dominoes falling that changes the entire outcome of the series starting around the middle of season one.

nights of holy fire (30 kudos)

BBC Merlin Arthur/Merlin So this one's actually the nsfw companion piece for "a love that burns like holy fire", I decided to write the main fic as fade to black and have this separate place for sex scenes and I think it's actually been working really well.

Some Kind of Wonderful (30 kudos)

Dragon Age Female Inquisitor Trevelyan / Josephine Montiliyet This is one of my favourites, I think. I wrote it as an exchange treat and it led to me meeting my fandom friend @sandalinbohemia A funny story with that one is that Rowan as an inquisitor stuck with me so much I thought Sandal had specifically requested the name, but I entirely made up the request and the name and had no idea for over a year. The premise is that Inquisitor Trevelyan finds an old clause that allows her to duel for Josephine's hand using a board game rather than a physical duel, and it's a bit of a fix it for the canon Lord Ortranto situation.

Of Wrath and Wanting (19 Kudos)

Dragon Age Leliana/Morrigan Honestly this is a tiny little flash piece I did for a crackship request back on the bird site. It's really neat, but it's only about 250 words. I have no idea how it did so well.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Definitely, I love comments. the main reason I write most of my longfics like a serial in a newspaper or an old cable tv show where I publish as I go is that I can find writing exceptionally lonely. I love to talk about my work, my blorbos, whatever else.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't write a lot of angst, and I don't write a lot of endings, but probably Rotten Touch. It's a true drabble (100 words), Overwatch, Reaper/Soldier. Since it's so short I'll include it here.

Jack remembers a time before Overwatch, remembers the love they’d shared, remembers Gabriel’s hands on his body in the dead of night. Dead… Dead… That was the problem, wasn’t it? That past was long since over, and now Jack couldn’t even think of himself as anything but 76. Gabriel Reyes had stopped being Reyes, had stopped being anything, long ago, and the vision in Jack's mind can’t cling to the fantasy. Gabriel’s hands become Reaper’s hands become rotten, foreboding, and cold. Every lover, Reaper, before him, and since, melt into an amalgam of broken promises and rotten touches. Jack’s alone.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That's a tough one! I really like fluff, but I also tend to leave stories with an indication that life continues so it's a bit more ambiguous than happy. I guess I'd say my Josephine/Sebastian Dragon Afe epistolary series Vael in Vellum, it really has more of a conclusion than a lot of others and I think it's really cute.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I know of.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep! honestly all kinds. I write sweet things, spicy things, things I'd be mortified for people in the real world to know about, all sorts of pairings. I'm a transmasc guy who is gay married and who spent a good amount of time thinking he was a lesbian AND in what he thought was a hetero live-in thing for a while so I feel like I have a lot of the mechanics covered and I have a pretty good imagination. Idk if it's good or not, but people seem to like it, and I tend to like it when I reread it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't go out of my way to, but I do write them, especially for exchanges. I think the craziest one was the Commander 'n Chief fShep/The Iron Bull series I wrote for @ferindencadash (Mass Effect/Dragon Age)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I started translating Moments Between (Mass Effect Sloane Kelly/enbie Ryder), especially since later chapters that I need to rewrite have Ryder speaking an almost creole-like French dialect, but I got lonely :P If folks were interested, I'd be willing to translate some of my pieces, especially the shorter ones, into French or Spanish.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I used to do a lot of chat based role playing, but I don't think I ever officially wrote something with someone. I can be really intense when I'm mid hyper-fixation, though, it probably wouldn't be a good time for a co-writer.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Honestly, whatever one I'm writing at the time. I'm absolutely in love with Sloane/Ryder (Mass Effect), writing fCadash/Varric Tethras for the Tethras n' Trouble series and , HardAssi (Krem/Lace Harding) for Her Safeword is Apples (and she smells like blossoms in the rain) (Dragon Age) both felt absolutely world altering. Now that I'm writing Merthur (Merlin/Arthur from BBC Merlin) for the Elements of Albion series, that's everything. I love ships... all the ships. Give them to Ziiiiimmmmmm.. ahem...

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I think that I'll keep writing all my pieces as the fixations shift, honestly. Eventually I'll finish more and start more. I guess the most precarious right now is probably A Perfect Fit (HardAssi), but I don't think any work is really doomed. Sometimes I hyperfixate and write over 20k in a weekend, sometimes it takes me weeks to get 500 words out... I think it's more of a lifestyle at this point.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Probably portraying emotions and emulating cadence and mannerisms.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Commas, run on sentences, an absolute gay audacity and disregard for all the rules of grammar...

But seriously probably angst, hurt/comfort, I'm really very "meta" in my writing and I go through all the emotions the characters are going through, very, very vividly, to get it all right, so it can be really difficult for me to finish works that hit the really hard spots for long periods.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I enjoy it! I like it better when the text lends itself to having the translation right there or having the narrator tell us. I've got a few works that use extensive footnotes that are all neatly linked back and forth and stuff and it's just a lot of work to format.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

No idea. The first fandom I published is Dragon Age, I keep a bookmark to the Ao3 import of the fic (I orphaned the account a long long time ago) and it reminds me that I was never as bad as I thought, but that I've also gotten a lot better. In terms of ever written, including role playing days and just loose leaf notebooks I started almost 25 years ago, so I really have no idea.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

In terms of complete works only probably either The Writer and the Racketeer (fCadash/Varric) or Antivan Coffee (Josephine Montiliyet/Zevran Arainai), both Dragon Age. I did a lot of Dragon Age exchanges so a lot of my finished works are in that fandom. I would say right now, though, that I'm really enjoying writing a love that burns like holy fire, it's inspiring a bunch of spinoffs and it's been super great to more actively join the Merlin fandom.

Thank you so much to @tansyuduri for tagging me for this, it was so much fun. Thanks to anyone who read through all this, it felt really neat to do a little interview of myself. Hopefully some people I tagged forward have fun with this (no pressure as always), and I really look forward to writing for you all in the future!