#also the 'suffering the loss of a child' well... eye for an eye right?

[kelocitta]

I wanted to ask, I might have missed it, but how is the new Scav chieftain as a character? With her having to take over after her daughter’s passing, and the needed cleaning up after Artificers mess in this AU? It’s really interesting that shes now suffering a loss of a child, acting as a parallel to Artificer also.

Bolt of Silver (Although name has certainly changed) was an accomplished pirate* sharpshooter. Her particular skillset was in the execution of caravan/patrol captains from exceptional distances in order to induce panic for a followup assault. Her past is largely unknown, and as such she is not someone who would have ever been considered for the position of Chieftain had there not be a considerable amount of panic. She took the position because she, as an elder, is generally given respect of wisdom and also she herself showed quiet a bit of initiative and leadership during the panic that curried some favor- although she is notably more of a substitute than a properly recognized Chieftain, and will eventually step down once a replacement is formally put forth. Her daughter, in contrast, did not share her criminal history and was a rather accomplished explorer, archivist, and generally an upstanding Scavenger. The fact she acquired the position was a testament to her own skills, independent of her mother, who retired and integrated back into the larger community as a general assistant and expectant grandmother. *Pirate in the context of Scavengers does not refer to boat users, but rather caravans or groups of united thief or criminal rogue wandering groups. 'Unaffiliated' Scavenger groups are common, but many of them are merely small families, independents, or even particularly traveled traders and thus welcomed into the larger community even if they do not directly consider themselves a part of it. Pirate groups are distinct in that their activity is almost entirely criminal in nature, often violent, and ideally removed or pushed to the furthest fringes of territories.

[ssa-neeks-prentiss]

Prompt: someone on the team has a secret child (the reader) and the team is shocked, but Hotch get into dad mode/uncle mode and has the child wrapped around his finger in minutes.

You choose the age of the child. I mean they could be an adult I guess.

Note : I might make this into a series and sorry if your name is Eleanor! I've also decided to stray and now she has three kids instead of one... Sooooo! I've also got like a little storyline and backstory planned out so it's like a 90 percent chance it will be a series! I also may have strayed a little of track :3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Word Count : 1.1k

AARON'S POV

He had been at work for roughly three hours by the time the team started to file in. He was always early, always getting there earlier than Spencer or Dave. It was a normal Tuesday. Except Tuesday meant paper work day. Despite how the team viewed him, he, in fact, did not like paperwork. At all. But he suffered through, wanting to be the best agent.

But he knew he wouldn't be. You were there. Wait, no, that sounded like jealousy. Okay, it kind of was. But you were just perfect. You were deterimined, young, agile and creative. The perfect agent. He was honestly surprised at the fact you hadn't been move up or been transferred to a higher department by now. But, their loss was a win to him.

He was then dragged from his thoughts as he heard a commotion from outside his office. Confused, he stood up and stepped outside. He looked down to meet the deep blue eyes of a young girl. His brows shot up in surprise as he spoke with a gentle tone.

"Hello?" He tried to not let his demeanor scare the girl and sighed in relief as the girl didn't seem to care, instead opting to grin and wave at him.

"Hello! I'm Eleanor, but everyone calls me Ellie! What's your name?"

He smiled at her introduction, the innocence of a little child always seemed to amaze him. He then leaned down.

"I'm Aaron. Nice to meet you."

She grinned up at him.

"You're Aaron! My mama told me about you!"

He looked perplexed.

"Your mama? Who's your mama?"

She looked at him with an incredulous look as if he had said the most stupidest thing ever.

"My mama? You don't know mama?"

He shook his head.

"Not by the name Mama. I would know her by a different name."

Eleanor nodded in an understanding way.

"Sorry, I don't know my mamas real name. I just call her mama."

She spoke with a shrug. He frowned.

"Can I pick you up? Then we can try and find your mama."

Her eyes lit up and she nodded.

"Okay! I don't know where mama went. She told me to stay put but I got Distracted."

He smiled softly as he picked her up as rested her on his hip. He then straightened up as he saw Derek walk up to them.

"What the.. You know.. I'm not even gonna ask."

Derek spoke with his hands up as he turned away but he paused when Eleanor spoke.

"You're Derek, right? Mama told me about you! She says you like.. Kicking doors down?"

Aaron chuckled quietly as he turned back around with a smile, well, it was more of a smirk.

"She did? Well, who is your mama?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know her name. Me and Aaron are going to find her! Do you wanna come? Ooh! Can I go on your shoulders? My uncle Azrael let's me go on his shoulders while he carries my sister!"

Aaron stopped and frowned.

"Your sister? Where is she?"

She looked up at him.

"Oh, she's at school, but mine was shut because of... Uh.. Stuff!"

Derek laughed at her explanation.

"But Azrael had this important job thingy or whatever so I got to go to her job with her! Which is this. But then I got lost. So I don't know where mama is now!"

The two shared looks of amusement at the girls words and her nonchalant tone while speaking. Aaron cleared his throat as he spoke.

"So, can you describe your mother?"

Eleanor nodded eagerly.

"She has Y/H/C hair!"

Aaron nodded. So that was still about half of the people in the building.

Eleanor moved to jump down and Aaron let her. She scrambled away surprisingly quickly for a little kid and Aaron and Derek shared a glance before a mutual agreement was made as the two jogged after her. The two caught up to her quickly and they decided to just walk around. Eleanor ranted to them as they walked, she was similar to Spencer in that way, constantly having something to rant about.

"Oh! And we have a dog! A German Shepherd! He's called Rex! He's a police dog for my Uncle Azrael but he stays with us so he's technically my dog!"

Aaron paused. He swears he had heard of a police dog called Rex. It was definitely mentioned by someone on the team... Who though? He couldn't for the life of him remember, which annoyed him because it was important in the moment.

She skipped as she had a hand in Derek's and a hand in his. Then then heard a familiar voice frantically calling the girls name.

"Eleanor?! Ellie?! Els?!"

They used multiple nicknames and they paused. Eleanor's face lit up as she called.

"Mama!"

Eleanor let go of the twos hands as she ran.. Right to you.. You sighed what he assumed as relief.

"Eleanor! Don't you dare run from me again!"

She spoke in a cross tone but she hugged Eleanor nonetheless. Derek's face shifted into one of surprise and Aaron could feel his do the same. You clearly hadn't noticed them until Eleanor grinned at you.

"Look who I met!"

She then pointed to then and you stood up to thank them until you saw who it was and you froze.

Aaron raised a brow and Derek voiced their question.

"You have a kid?!"

"Two kids?"

Aaron added after as he remembered Eleanor talking about a sister. You then grimaced.

"Three."

Aaron's eyes widened in surprise and so did Derek's.

"Why didn't you tell us?!"

She shrugged.

"It was on my information when I applied?"

She added meekly. Aaron rolled his eyes.

"What's going on about kids?"

The commotion had attracted Spencer and Penelope. Derek turned to the two of them.

"Y/N has three kids! Three!"

Penelope's eyes widened.

"Really?! I wanna meet them!"

Eleanor grinned from where she was beside you.

"I like your dress!"

Penelope's head snapped to you and Eleanor as she squealed and jogged to you.

"Who's this bundle of joy? Why did you hide her from us!"

She immediately leaned down to wrap her arms around Eleanor who did the same and accepted the hug with a grin. You smiled at the two and when the hug broke she put Eleanor on her waist. She then turned to Spencer.

"You can do magic tricks right? Can I see one? I wanna do magic!"

She spoke excitedly and Spencer's eyes lit up. He smiled as he nodded eagerly and Eleanor immediately jumped off of her mother and ran to Spencer who waved his hands excitedly as he spoke to the little girl. Her turned back to you and saw you watch the two with fondness in your gaze.

He smiled and walked over to you. You looked at him and smiled greatfully.

"Thank you for looking after her."

"It was no problem."

And it wasn't because he loved you. And he would do anything for you, and, by extension, your children as well.

[hisfavegirl]

Can you make a scene when aegon is crying in his room after b&c and the reader is his twins?? like angst but also comforting??

Silent Grief - King!Aegon Targaryen x TwinSister!Reader.

Summary : Jaehaerys—your precious boy—was stolen from you too soon. Taken from the world in a brutal twist of fate that left your family fractured, broken in ways you never thought possible. He was a promise of a future, a new beginning after the turmoil that had once gripped your bloodline. But now, that future is gone, lost in the cruel grasp of tragedy.

Aegon Masterlist.

You pause outside the door to your husband’s chambers, the soft murmur of his voice filtering through the crack in the door. It isn’t just the faint sound of a man grieving—it is the raw, broken sobs of a man whose heart has been shattered. Aegon’s cries hit you like a wave, crashing over the walls you’ve spent so long building to protect yourself from the pain. His sorrow is thick with the weight of a loss you both share, a loss that feels impossible to bear.

Jaehaerys. Your son. The child who had brought so much joy into your life, now gone. His laughter, his tiny hands reaching for you, gone in an instant. And now, it is Aegon’s sorrow that fills the room, the pain that has consumed him for days.

You’ve watched him retreat into himself, isolating himself from you, from the world. He has avoided you—his wife, his twin sister. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. He doesn’t want you to witness the vulnerability and despair that have overtaken him, the weight of grief that he can no longer hide.

But you are his wife. You are his twin sister. The bond between you is too strong, too deep for him to shut you out completely. You know him better than anyone. You know that behind the closed doors and the silence, he is breaking.

With a steady breath, you push the door open.

The room is dim, lit only by the flickering light of a candle that seems as fragile as the moment itself. Aegon sits at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his grief. You’ve never seen him like this before—not even during the darkest days of their war for the throne. The powerful, often indomitable king, now reduced to a man wracked with sorrow.

He doesn’t look up when you enter. His voice is barely a whisper, lost in the rawness of his emotion.

“Please, don’t… don’t look at me like this,” Aegon’s voice cracks, and his words hang heavy in the air, as if the very act of speaking them causes him more pain. “I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t save him.”

You feel your heart tighten, the weight of his grief pulling at you. You know this pain all too well—this unbearable ache of loss that consumes you from the inside out. But you refuse to let him suffer alone, even if he tries to push you away.

Slowly, you walk towards him, your presence a silent comfort in the midst of his storm. You sit beside him on the bed, your hands gently resting on his back. He stiffens at first, then gradually relaxes as he feels your touch. Your connection is undeniable, a bond forged from years of shared experiences, of love and loss. You were born together, lived through the chaos of the world together, and now, even in this moment of unbearable grief, you would face it together.

“Aegon,” you whisper, your voice soothing, “I’m here. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

He turns to you then, his tear-streaked face contorted with sorrow. His eyes are dark with exhaustion, haunted by the death of their son, and in that moment, he looks so fragile that it nearly breaks you. The strong, proud king you once knew, now just a broken man, clinging to the remains of his shattered heart.

“I couldn’t protect him,” he repeats, his voice barely audible. “I couldn’t save Jaehaerys.”

You take his face in your hands, gently forcing him to meet your gaze. “You didn’t fail him,” you say softly. “There was nothing more you could have done. We both loved him. We both did everything we could, Aegon. But some things… they’re beyond our control.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than any words could express. The weight of the grief, the loss of their son, hangs between you, binding you in shared sorrow. And yet, as you sit there with him, holding him close, you realize that despite the pain, there is still something stronger than it all: your bond. Your love for him.

The sound of Aegon’s sobs pierces through the heavy silence of the room, each cry a reminder of the grief you both carry. The sorrow in his voice is raw, unfiltered, and it cuts through you like a blade. You had lost your son, your beloved Jaehaerys, to a brutal fate, but hearing Aegon, the man you had once looked up to as a rock, crumble before you, makes the ache in your heart swell with a new, unbearable pain.

His cries are not just for Jaehaerys. They are the cries of a father who feels like he failed, a king who couldn’t protect his own flesh and blood. And though you, too, are lost in your own grief, there’s a part of you that can’t help but feel the weight of his sorrow, the burden he’s placed on himself. He has always been your pillar—strong, unyielding. Yet now, in the wake of their son’s brutal death, you see him as you never have before: broken, fragile, and lost.

You want to hold him, comfort him, but you are equally as lost. You, too, are drowning in the loss of your child. Your son, your Jaehaerys, was taken from you in a way so cruel, so violent, it feels like the world itself has torn you apart. You wanted to protect him, to keep him safe in a world that has only ever been ruthless. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

Your heart aching, and without a word, you pull him into your arms. His body is trembling with grief, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, and it feels as if your tears have no end. The dam breaks, and you cry, not just for Jaehaerys, but for the man who has always stood beside you. You mourn for him, too. For the Aegon you once knew—so proud, so certain of everything—and now, reduced to a shell of himself, lost in the same pain you feel.

You both weep together, your cries a mirror of each other. You weep for the child stolen from you, for the cruel brutality that claimed him. You weep for the dreams of a future that will never be. You weep for the man you loved, who now is slipping away from you, consumed by guilt and sorrow.

His arms tighten around you, as though trying to hold onto something—anything—to anchor him in this world that has suddenly become too much to bear. Your fingers run through his hair, your hands trembling as you hold him close, wishing that somehow, in this moment, you could ease his suffering. But you can’t. Neither of you can escape the truth of what has happened.

“Jaehaerys,” you whisper, your voice barely audible through the tears. “Our son… he was taken so brutally. So violently.”

The words choke you, the reality of it too much to speak aloud. But you know Aegon hears it, feels it, because he clutches you tighter, as if your embrace is the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

“He was everything,” Aegon mutters, his voice broken. “He was everything. And I couldn’t protect him. I failed him. I failed you.”

“No,” you say, your voice trembling with the effort to make him understand. “You didn’t fail us. You didn’t fail him. We both did everything we could. The world… the world is just cruel, Aegon. There was nothing we could do to stop it.”

But even as you say the words, you know they don’t bring comfort. Nothing can fix this. Nothing can heal the wound in your heart, nor his. You are both drowning in a grief that feels too heavy to bear, yet somehow, you hold onto each other as if your lives depend on it.

And in the midst of it all, as your bodies shake with sorrow, you both know that, for now, the only thing that can get you through this pain is the shared weight of your loss. Together, you mourn the life stolen from you both, sharing in the quiet understanding that while you have lost your son, you have not lost each other—at least not yet.

The night stretches on, and as the hours pass, the tears begin to subside, leaving behind a quiet, fragile silence. You and Aegon remain locked in each other’s arms, not saying a word, but knowing that the grief will never truly leave. It will live within you both, forever. But in this moment, as you hold him close, you find solace in the shared sorrow, in the unspoken promise that, together, you will face the darkness ahead.

The quiet sorrow in the room is almost suffocating as you and Aegon remain locked in each other’s embrace. Your tears have slowed, but the ache remains—a heavy, unyielding weight that neither of you can escape. In this moment, the world outside seems so distant, so far removed from the grief that binds you both together. It’s just the two of you, sharing in a silence that speaks more than words ever could.

And yet, unbeknownst to you, another presence lingers in the doorway.

Alicent stands there, her figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway, watching her children in a way that is both loving and helpless. She stands frozen, unsure of how to act, torn between the instinct to rush to you both and the fear that her comfort will fall flat, that her words will be hollow against the rawness of your pain. She’s always been the Queen, the figure of authority, the protector of the family. But in this moment, all that seems to have failed her. She doesn’t know how to fix what is broken—how to fix you both.

Her heart aches as she watches you and Aegon, the children she has raised, the ones she has tried so hard to hold together. She wants to walk over, to wrap her arms around both of you and tell you everything will be alright. That the pain will fade, and time will heal the wounds. But she knows—deep down—that it isn’t true. Time will not heal this, not this wound, not this loss. The emptiness left by Jaehaerys’s death is something none of you will ever fully escape.

For a long moment, she stands there, unsure whether to enter or retreat. She hesitates, caught between her love for her children and her inability to bridge the growing gap between them. Alicent doesn’t know what to say, or if anything she says will even be heard. She has tried so hard to be the mother you both needed, to mend the fractures that have always been present in your family, but now, more than ever, she feels like a stranger to both of you.

Aegon shifts slightly, his face still buried in your shoulder, and you let out a shaky breath, holding him tighter, as though the very act of holding him could somehow stop the world from crumbling. You don’t notice Alicent’s presence at first. But after a few moments, she realizes that her hesitation has already caused the distance to grow.

With a quiet sigh, Alicent turns away from the door, her footsteps soft as she retreats into the shadows of the hallway. She doesn’t look back, afraid that if she does, it will break something that is already too fragile. The silence between you three is deafening, and though she’s tried for years to hold your family together, in this moment, she feels more distant than ever.

Alicent doesn’t know how to make you feel better. She doesn’t know how to ease the sorrow of losing a child. She doesn’t understand how to fix the bond between her children and herself, a bond that has been fraying for so long, so silently.

As she walks away, her own heart aches, not just for Jaehaerys, but for the two of you—the children she cannot seem to reach, no matter how hard she tries. She doesn’t realize that, in her silence, she has only deepened the divide, pushing you both further away without ever meaning to.

Alicent knows nothing of the quiet, unspoken resentment that has grown in the wake of everything that has happened. She doesn’t understand that, while she watches from the outside, you and Aegon have begun to forge your own bond, one that excludes her. A bond born not from love, but from shared pain and the deep understanding that only you two can truly know the weight of this loss.

And as she disappears down the hall, a quiet, invisible rift stretches between the three of you, one that will not easily be mended.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @zaldritzosrose @yazzzmints @giirlinblack

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Daddy’s Princess

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!Princess!Reader

WORDS: 3,014.

SUMMARY: Based on this anonymous request…

WARNINGS: incest, mentions of death/war/suicide, mentions of depression, dark!Aegon ii, thigh riding, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, cream pie, breeding kink, Daddy kink, praise kink, dom!Aegon ii, swearing, possessive!Aegon ii. mentions of pregnancy/birth.

A/N - posted this originally on my side kink blog [ @aegoniiwifey ], however since it’s not so explicitly kink-related and I’m also really proud of this fic, I thought I would post it here too ☺️ hope you all enjoy this naughty read!

credit to the original creators of the artworks/images.

The Targaryens were undoubtedly known for their “queer” customs, this had been widely yet sceptically recognised. Your own grandmother, the Dowager Queen, even uttered the words herself, despite having played a major role in marrying your late, beloved mother, Helaena to her elder brother, your father and the rightful King, Aegon the Second.

The Dance of the Dragons had begun to churn, when you were still nothing more than a child, however it progressed well into a few solid years throughout your adolescence, only for your father to come out victorious against his treacherous half-sister and her family of “bastards and traitors”, as he spat. The Gods had answered your endless prayers, regardless, rejoicing in success.

Once the Dance had reached its end, you had transformed into a young, modest woman, of the age two-and-twenty. Your handsome father, fifteen years your elder, conceived you during his own youth, robbing him of freedom and instilling responsibility instead, likewise with your dear mother. You had always been plagued with the pestering thought of feeling like a burden unto the young couple, as their firstborn, however your father reassured you otherwise, that you were nothing more than a blessing to him, otherwise.

Regardless, the fearsome battles determinedly fought throughout the decades, came at an inconceivable cost: the cost of the innocent, defenceless lives of your younger siblings who tragically perished in horrendous manners. Your late mother, Queen Heleana, wrought with mad grief and depression for the witness and loss of her babes, she could not bear the reality of life itself, taking her own life as a means to end her suffering.

Excluding yourself, you had no one else other than your grandmother, the Dowager Queen, who kept much to her seldom self these toiling days, isolated in her lonesome chambers, and your father...

Throughout the entirety of the ceaseless quarrels, your dear father had always ensured keeping a close eye and ear on you. Warmly reassuring your frightful self, that he would burn the world before any harm could be done unto you. He kept you close by him at all times, if he had not attended the battle himself on dragonback, Sunfyre close by your chambers, despite having a broken wing, with your own hatchling, Morghul, constantly beside you. It tore him to pieces when he made the harsh decision of having to entrust you to Larys and his unsavoury men, to sneak you off to Dragonstone where he would meet you eventually.

The most skilled guards posted ceaselessly hours on end, day and night, outside your chambers, not a single action went by without Aegon knowing, for all matters regarding your whereabouts went directly through him. During this time, you had solely instilled a perpetual trust in your father's decisions, that laid foundations in your bond with one another, which lingered even post succession of the war. It would be an understatement, that you had become heavily reliant on him, most of the time having been denied the autonomy to think and decide for yourself at such a young age, you grew to much prefer your father taking action, trusting him and only him with decisions regarding your own life. He was highly protective of you, in a way no lord nor knight of the realm could pledge and devote their lives to. You were his kin, his blood, his possession: you became his sole purpose and will to survive during the Dance.

There was, however, only one decision, you had ever made purely yourself, that would change the dynamic of the realm itself...

"Come, my sweet angel. Come to Daddy, and let me ease your mind..."

Despite the realm returning to some ounce of normalcy and peace, the nights you still endured adversity with. Troubling nightmares engulfed your slumber mind of the haunting memories of the Dance. Stirring you awake in a state of distress and panic, sweat beads drenched your forehead and mottled hair, your exposed, plump breasts accentuated in your silk, white nightgown, heaving with every haste and dense breath. Despite the adoring, relentless company of your dotting father by your side in bed, he immediately awoke in tune to your disruptive motions, persisting to remain awake, until he was assured you were comforted and sound of mind, lulling you himself back to sleep.

"Baby, sit on my lap. That's it- Another nightmare, my love?"

"Y-Yes, father."

"I know the feeling all to well, precious... Do you wish to speak about it?" Aegon huskily uttered, as his rough hands gently whisked away the odd strands of hair out of place, his other hand caressing soft circles at your lower back.

Since his heroic return from battle, despite the brutal injuries sustained, and since recovering, your father found himself constantly at your side, even in the late hours of the night. He dared not to trust many despite promisingly pledging fealty to their King, Aegon could only open up to you without the reason of duty, intimidation, or responsibility binding him to you. He wanted you. Since losing Helaena, despite never having been openly romantic with her, he had lost a companion, and had always considered you more of one than a daughter, as you grew wise with age.

Your strong-willed father had always been a man with brawn, unlike your late Uncles, Aemond and Daeron. Aegon was portly and having been raised by him, you grew familiar with his shameless, gluttonous habits. These habits exacerbated during his recuperation, as the maesters including yourself had taken to encouraging your father to eat copiously, often hand feeding him yourself with generous amounts of delicacies, rationalising that it was to regain pure sustenance.

You took pride in his recovery, aiding the maesters to heal your father back to good health, he openly stated that it was your devoted presence and love that made him whole once more. Deep in slumber with milk of the poppy to ease the pain, only he could hear your sweet, angelic voice in the blissful distance, yearning for him. Your gentle touch, as you religiously applied naturopathic ointments to his fresh, raw burns, that eventually healed his scars. He soaked in your warm presence thoroughly, mirroring your reliance on him, he too, became deeply infatuated with you.

Since becoming a mature woman, having grown into your Valyrian-esque features and physique, Aegon saw you in a fairly different light now. You noticed by the manner in which his violet, stern eyes lingered over your body for far longer than what was used to, even if it was for a few, fleeting seconds. You became a distraction in council meetings, as he vowed to have you attend, even if you were merely a cupbearer, standing aside though in proximity of him, a mere shadow: his unfazed attention oogled over you, his mind pondering over lustful, sinful thoughts, only to be beckon called back to reality by the repetitive call of his title, your Grace.

You had always admired your father, and believed there was no man that could exceed the expectations he set in stone… You were made for him, as he had sought to it himself. Blood of his blood, the Gods kept you both alive for a reason, you had discreetly believed.

"I do not wish to speak of it right now... I just need you to hold me, just for a little while," You weakly whispered with a shaky breath. Aegon, with a new found strength, a fuller and sturdy frame, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap, as he laid himself back to rest against the wooden bedframe.

"That's okay, my sweet girl. It will get easier, I promise..."

Adjusting yourself atop of Aegon's wide, meaty thigh, as you gripped and rested your head against his broad, fleshy shoulder, the friction stirring as your bare cunt grinds against his clothed thigh, slowly igniting a familiar, throbbing ache between your inner thighs.

"Hmm, how will it get easier, Daddy? Will you make it easier?" You utter, your lips lightly grazing over his plump cheek, gently guiding his head to turn in your direction: eyes inevitably meeting, your lips passionately crash against his. Aegon does not resist in the slightest, relishing in the kiss, as he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth, swallowing your taste, before his teeth teasingly bite and pull at your lower lip.

"I can distract my baby. Give her a pleasure no other man in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms can. I'll give my princess the finest treatment she deserves... But only if she listens and obeys her Daddy, like the good girl I know she is."

"Mhmm, yes, Daddy-" A helpless plea closely mistaken for a moan escaping your mouth, Aegon's pudgy hands, steer your legs to spread apart: you find that you can only spread wide enough to saddle one thick thigh at a time. Without needing to spell it out for you, you begin to sway your meek frame, rhythmically bucking your hips backwards and forwards, as Aegon harshly yanks your gown up, enough for your bare cunt to be completely exposed more thoughtfully, and in contact with his thigh.

"Deeper baby, you know you need to push yourself deeper or else I can barely feel you on top."

With haste obedience, you try to plunge your weight deeper against him, your arms embracing Aegon’s stocky frame tighter. His swollen, bloated gut pressing flatly against your own chest, earning a sensual growl from your father.

“Good girl… My good, little princess. Going to listen to every word Daddy says, so I can make her feel so much better.”

Your whimpering moans, and slow nods in agreement, as your head instinctively rocked back, eyes closing with pure pleasure, you could feel Aegon’s rough hands exploring your waistline, before one snaked behind your spine, keeping you steady by a careful grip on your neck. The other began to tug and pull at the silk strands of your nightgown, loosening the knot, to expose more of your obvious, ample cleavage.

“Look at how beautiful you have become. My little princess is not so little anymore, such a divine grace, a woman. No other beauty roams the Earth, as you do.”

The outstanding appraisal oozing breathlessly from Aegon's plump, blush lips, echo in your thoughtless mind with intense gratification. Treasuring each word, he worshipped you dearly, often placing you on a pedestal as great as the Iron Throne itself.

"Yes Daddy, t-tell me more."

Your helpless moans begin to sob from your mouth, filling the void of the vast room, other than the faint crackling of the dying fireplace. Your eager pace quickening, feeling the burning sensation erupt from the friction against your tender skin. Your body leaned forwards with Aegon's generous shove, as he in turn plunged his handsome face between your sensitive breasts. Feeling his lips trailing across your soft skin, hungrily suckling and lapping down to your nipple, as his other hand playfully massaged and kneaded at your other tit.

"Does princess want Daddy to fuck her stupid? Make her so full of me, she'll be dripping, begging for more, for nothing to be spared? All the princess needs to do is ask Daddy, like the polite girl she is."

"A-Aeg-"

"Words, princess. My cock isn't even inside you yet, and you're already hopeless. Didn't I teach you to use your words?"

"Hmm, Daddy, I-I need your cock, I-I need you inside of me, p-please."

Incoherent, you knew how weak and feeble you felt against your father, a formidable man, both inside and outside the confines of the bedroom.

"My beautiful baby, using her manners, makes her Daddy so, so proud. How did I get so lucky, being blessed by you?"

"D-Daddy blessed me."

Your hands clawed their way across his muscular shoulder blades, nails sharply dug into Aegon's bareback, as he often enjoyed sleeping shirtless, his natural body warmth radiating from his scarred body. Now one hand snaked its way into his short, unkempt hair, avidly tugging at his silver strands, begging for more.

"Easy baby, so needy for her Daddy, huh? Never change baby, Daddy's always going to take care of you okay? No one can take care of you, like I have..."

"N-No one. Daddy protects me from cruel monsters, a-and evil men. I-I could never leave, D-Daddy."

Groans and growls pooled from Aegon's lush mouth, as his tongue teasingly lapped and pulled at your perky nipple.

"My perfect princess. That's right, baby... Now, you ready to take Daddy's cock? I'm feeling pretty big, princess. You've been getting me as hard as Valyrian steel."

His hand found yours, firmly guiding it down to where his stiff, rigid cock throbbed densely with enthusiasm, beneath his pants, desperately aching to be taken.

"Y-Yes... Only I deserve Daddy's cock."

Rightfully earning a low, jovial chuckle from Aegon, scoring his mutual amusement and agreement, nodding to your proud notion.

"That's right baby... Only you."

Heaving himself and you atop with such vigour, you aided Aegon in pulling his pants down, as his cock sprung into full action. The sight made you shiver and whimper instantly, how its reddened tip flashed in the dim light, with pre cum already oozing generously from the raw tip. His length modest, its width had always been a wondrous vision. Regardless of the preparation or the amount of times you had taken Aegon before, you could never quite adjust to his glorious girth.

"Easy baby, that's my good girl. D-Don't be afraid, I got you. You can take it, I know you can. Making Daddy so, very proud."

Carefully positioning you atop, as you began to gently settle down, the sharp jolt of pain, as its tip etched between your silk folds, made it subtly easier for him to slip his full mass in.

"Wet for me already, my cock's practically drowning baby... So tight for me, my sweet princess. I can feel you swallowing up my fat cock."

Witlessly yet diligently, bobbing up and down on Aegon's lap, as your father vigorously thrusted his heavy mass upwards, craving to shove himself deeper into your slick folds.

"Good girl, Y/N. Daddy's going to fuck you so hard, fill you up to the fucking brim with my seed. Want to carry Daddy's babes, like a good princess? Make Daddy so proud, huh?"

"Y-Yes, I'll do w-whatever Daddy says, whatever D-Daddy wants. Anything to m-make you proud."

The rough texture of Aegon's battle-torn hands, cooed and caressed at your back, one hand gripping your neck once more, keeping you steadily mounted against his body. His other hand, continued to firmly squeeze at your tender breast, almost mimicking a wringing motion, as though anticipating for milk to ooze.

"Making me the proudest Daddy in the realm, princess. But you are far from being done with your royal duties... I'm going to fuck you day and night, till I see your belly swell greatly with child, with our child... Not till we fill this entire keep with the future leagues of the Targaryen dynasty. And if anyone dares to question our customs... They can play the fucking fool and answer to me."

Aegon, in a breathless, heated rut, finally reached his almighty gusto. His fresh, hot seed spilling up into you, as it oozed out of your tight crevices, clenched around his achingly, pulsating cock. In turn, your cum released in a liberating gesture, pouring over Aegon's rigid, thick cock.

"Hmm, Daddy spoils me s'good. Blessed I am th-that you want me to carry your heirs. Blessed I am to be carry on your legacy, Daddy."

Just as you were about to dismount from Aegon's sturdy lap, and tense cock, still stretching out inside of you, did you feel his strong embrace pulling you back down, keeping you situated over him as you were before.

"Daddy's not done yet, princess... I told you, I am fucking you endlessly till I see this belly-" His palm lightly grazing over your lower stomach in circles.

"-swell and these beautiful tits, leak with milk as I knead and suck. I will fuck you day and night, till you reek of my scent, exhausted of pleasure, and drenched in my cum and sweat. Princess belongs to Daddy and the whole realm shall know of it. I won the war, and I shall win the heart of the realm... That is you, my angel."

The remainder of the night, into the sleepless, bright dawn of the morrow, Aegon had kept his rigid cock buried deeply, and warmly planted inside of you. As the hours nudged on, you could feel yourself repeatedly peaking inside, as did your father, growing more and more numb to the cramping sensation. Your wincing and whimpers did not go ignorantly unnoticed, as Aegon would lull you, praising how proud he was of you for taking him so well. The only time he released was to clean up the god awful mess strewed across the sheets, and the minor bleeding pooling from your inner thighs.

In the morrow, he commanded the servants to fetch you a warm, floral scented bath, with the condition that he bathe you himself. Breakfast was brought to you directly, as you remained bed bound resting and recuperating.

"Now it's Daddy's turn to take care of his princess. Just as you took care of me during those dreadful months. My sweet, precious angel never left her Daddy's side, like an obedient, loyal girl. And Daddy will never leave you, okay."

Words had spread like wildfire, as your belly and tits had swollen healthily with a growing babe inside. The maesters to confirm and seal your fate, Aegon and yourself could not have been happier. Despite the relentless, whispering gossip alongside the timid side glances, no one dared to speak against Aegon's decision to marry you lawfully in tradition of your Valyrian customs, otherwise. Blessing the King a long-awaited, hearty male heir, the prophecy his late father often uttered about in his ill, deluded state: Aegon believed the Prince that was Promised, would emerge from his bloodline, thanks to you.

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you]- @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for dividers - @/saradika

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

know its for the better

Words: 2733

Warnings: angst, talks of a miscarriage, body image, talks of difficulty staying pregnant, mention of what is technically a still-birth, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-medicating, accidental suicide attempt, probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

Part 2 for "Love Thorns All Over This Rose"

I decided to make this be longer than just two part, so this'll be a sort of mini-series

I just want to leave another TW here: if you have ever suffered through a miscarriage or any type of child loss, please proceed with caution. I do heavily talk about how Y/N feels after suffering through that and do talk about her feeling like a failure of a woman and other things. I just want everyone to know that if you feel triggered by that, I apologize and I don't want anyone to be upset over what I wrote

I also want to say that I personally have never gone through. What I write in this, is purely based off of what I have read in other fics or stories as well as seen people talk online. I am trying not to offend anyone and if I do in any of the part that I talk about those things; I severely apologize.

Reminder that Alfred is dead in this so that's why he isn't here!

The POV here still isn't really consistent. It jumps between being with the Batkids, Bruce, and Y/N's. I tried to make it flow though so hopefully that works!

Reminder that Bruce and Y/N's ages don't matter (I'm not in the mood to deal with that) but; Dick is 31 (and married to Kori but that's not too important), Jason is 25, Tim is 22, Damian is 15, Cass is 24, and Steph is 23

Also a reminder that I also am not too familiar with Duke, so that is why he isn't there much. Mostly just mentioned

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

All that he knew was that he walked in on his dad doing CPR on his mom.

That was all he knew.

That was all Dick knew.

3 Months Ago

Y/N tightened her grip around her purse, the people were following her too closely. She knew this. The light was still out, she kept reminding her that. Kept telling herself that no one would try to kidnap her in broad daylight.

But oh how wrong she was.

She should have known better. She grew up in Gotham. She should have known better.

----

Now

Three days had passed since everything happened. Bruce had refused to leave the hospital. He wondered if it was from guilt of not being there for her other times. Or if he was just filling in his obligation as a husband. Or maybe...maybe Dick was right and he was just doing all he could to preserve his image.

But none of that mattered. Bruce was staying until she woke up. Because she had to wake up. He had to show her that he still cared. That he still loved her. That he knows...he knows how much of a horrible person he has been to her for the past month.

He had to make sure she knew that he regretted it. Every word he said to her that night.

But every sign scared him. They had already had to resuscitate her since getting here. The tube was stuck down her throat, helping her to breathe. Nurses looking at him with pity, making him feel foolish for holding out hope that she would be okay. With every look that they gave him, there was a sort of emptiness and despair settling into his stomach.

Almost as if he agreed with them.

But he couldn't. He couldn't be agreeing with them. It wouldn't be useless holding out hope that she would be okay.

He ran his thumb over her palm, his eyes glancing up her arm and body until they landed on the raised skin on her collarbone. His hand that wasn't holding hers, come up to run over it. One of the many reminders of what happened 3 months ago.

----

3 Months Ago

Y/N woke up groggily. Her head was pounding and she felt like she had been dropped from a tall building. She blinked, trying to see something, anything, but as her eyes opened, she wished she could go back to seeing nothing.

She was sure that she was in the sewers. The damp and musky smell with the sound of water dripping down the old stone walls and floors around her made her all too aware of where she was. She tried swallowed any saliva, but her mouth was dry. Tears pricked her eyes from pain as she carefully pushed herself up.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she gingerly touched her stomach. Involuntarily, her own body flinched back from her touch. She felt her air catch in her throat as she felt nothing moving. In the past month or so, her baby had been moving all the time, leading her on to many sleepless nights.

Deep down, she knew. She knew that her baby was dead. And she knew that there was nothing to be done about it.

She jumped back as she heard the sound of shoes pounding against the damp stones. She tried to move away from the only place that someone could come from, but with her hands and legs being tied together, it was harder than expected. She slipped slightly, her side hitting the stone hard.

Three men, with honestly average builds, stalked into the area. She breathed raggedly as she watched them continue towards her. She tried to push away as one grabbed her arm and forcibly pulled her up, a yelp of surprise and pain left her mouth as she was pulled to her feet.

These three men were normal. They weren't some goons or some chemically induced maniacs. They were normal.

And maybe that scared her more.

One of the men, who she assumed was the leader, walked up to her, knife raised. Her eyes darted between him, his associates, and the knife. Any self-defense training that Bruce had taught her, flew out the window as she stood before these men.

"When the situation arises, you'll remember what to do."

That was what Bruce had always told her. But here she was. In the situation and nothing was showing up in her mind as what she was supposed to do.

She leaned back as the guy leaned in but the one with the grip on her arm moved one of his hands to hold her head and make her look at him. She shook as she felt the knife against her collarbone.

A small whimper of pain left her mouth as she felt the knife push deeper, deep enough that it would scar over, before she was pushed back to the ground. The one with the knife gave her a sadistic smile before hoarsely whispering, "We're going to make sure Bruce Wayne finds you dead."

She stared in near terror as she held her hand over where they had sliced and watched as they left just as quickly as they had came.

----

Now

Jason stood in a corner away from Y/N's body. Even with the tube gone, she still didn't wake up. Although she had made some developments...some in the past 8 days that she had been in here and everyone had convinced Bruce to go home and get some proper sleep. So now here Jason was, standing in a room where the woman he had allowed to become his mom was laying still.

But he stayed away from her body.

Something he didn't say often was just how scared he can get. He remembers each time he's been absolutely terrified. When Bruce, well Batman, caught him stealing the wheels to the Batmobile. When he was stuck in that warehouse and Bruce didn't make it in time. When he saw Y/N again for the first time since his "death" and he thought that she would hate him for what he had done. When she was taken. Those words he heard Bruce hurling at Y/N.

And right now.

Jason was keeping his composure, but inside, he was a trembling and terrified child. A kid who just needed to know his mom was going to be alright.

Inside, he knew exactly how Damian was feeling.

But as he stared at her body, his mind couldn't stop drifting, remembering what he had heard that night 4 weeks ago. All he could do was wonder what would have happened if maybe, just maybe, he had gotten angry at Bruce for what he heard.

----

4 Weeks Ago

It was nearly 2 AM when Jason was going to sneak out of the Manor. Technically, it was easy to do, well...it was once he got passed Bruce and Y/N's room. So, he was as silent as he could be as he passed by. But he stopped in his tracks as he heard the voices from behind the cracked door.

Now, Jason wouldn't say he was noisy. But don't all kids stop and listen whenever they hear their parents arguing?

But they weren't arguing. No. He had heard that before. This wasn't it. This was different.

And it scared him.

He stood by the door as Bruce's voice got louder: "--Well I'm sorry that I'm not here anymore Y/N! But can you fucking blame me?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Her voice was low, warning him to think before he spoke.

"You didn't pay attention and got taken. You and your inability to pay attention to your surroundings got our baby killed."

She sucked in a breath, "You think I don't blame myself already, Bruce? Do you think that I don't wonder what would have happened if I just hadn't gone out that day?"

"Please, this doesn't affect you. You're perfectly fucking fine."

"Because I have to be!" She nearly screamed, "One of us has to be a parent to everyone else in this home and we both know it won't be you!"

"They aren't even your kids, Y/N, why do you--"

A loud slap echoed and Jason's hand went over his mouth as he continued to listen.

"Those kids are mine. I am the one who helped raise them. I am the one who has made sacrifices for them! You haven't done shit for them, ever." She let out a choked back laugh, "All I did was ask for you to be here with me, to understand what I am feeling and going through. But of course, you don't understand anything."

"I understand that you killed our baby."

"No Bruce. Those men came after me to hurt you. You are the reason I was taken and lost our baby. But sure," Her voice started to break, "Go on. Blame me. I'm used to you doing that anyways.

----

Now

Jason breathed shakily as he grabbed his helmet and stormed out of the room. He knew Dick would be there soon with Damian anyways and he had to get out of there.

--------

Dick watched as Damian laid curled into Y/N's side. Bruce was, miraculously, still sleeping as he and Damian snuck out to the hospital. He didn't do it much for himself as he did it for Damian, he knew that the kid had a sort of...guilt that he could have done something.

Not that Dick could say anything against that. He felt guilty as well.

Y/N was his mom. He was the oldest son. He should have protected her, that was his job. Dick was the protector. He was always supposed to protect everyone. Y/N and even Bruce included. He already had been in this situation before. The immense guilt of failing to protect Y/N.

He remembers what he thought that first time he was here. Remembers the guilt of already failing to keep Alfred alive and not wanting to fail Y/N.

----

3 Months Ago

Dick ran through the sewers, trying to find Y/N. Two days had passed since she had gone missing. All of them had lost sleep trying to find her and now they were searching the sewers for where she could be. He felt like a failure, a bad kid, all because he didn't

He stopped in his tracks as he heard her labored breathing. He turned in the direction that he heard the breathing, his own getting caught in his throat when he saw her laying in the fetal position.

"Mom." He breathed out, rushing to kneel by her side. He gently grabbed her face and looked at her, tears pooling in his eyes. "Mom, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He failed. Guilt filling with him. Guilt of failing Alfred and now her.

He was a failure and he knew that.

"You-you're not a--"

----

Now

"--A failure."

He stopped and looked at Y/N, his eyes wide. "Mom?"

Her head was turned to the side, a small look of gentle concern on her face. "You're not a failure Dick." She whispered through a hoarse voice, "You didn't fail anyone. Especially not me."

But he shook his head. He did. Not once. But twice. First being after she was taken and now this.

"Dick, stop that. The only person here that failed was me."

He got up and angrily wiped the tears from his eyes, "But I-I just...you never--"

Her hand shakily came up to touch his face, "I'm the one who failed sugar. I should've..."

She stopped, hand leaving his to rub her neck. Out of instinct of all the times waking up from injuries, he grabbed her the bottle of water he had grabbed earlier. Unscrewing the lid, he gently brought it to her lips and she quickly took a gulp of it.

After a moment, she gently held his wrist. "Dick, look at me and believe me when I tell you that it's not your fault. You did nothing wrong." Her grip tighten on his wrist for a moment, "You or your siblings." She glanced over at Damian, her arm wrapped around the kid who was now sleeping. "You all had nothing that you could do." She looked back at him, "Everything that happened, that I did, was nothing to do with you kids. It um...it--"

"Has to do with dad?"

She nodded silently before breathing shakily, "I know Jason heard what Bruce and I said. Ahd I um...I assume that--"

He stopped her, his head shaking. "He didn't tell us anything."

"Oh." She sucked in a breath, "Let's just say, both your father and I say things that we shouldn't have. Not saying they weren't truthful...that deep down we didn't mean each and every word that passed our lips...but you kids aren't to blame."

Dick swallowed hard, "Why did you do it mom?"

Her hand fell from his wrist and she looked away, out to the window. "You don't understand how I felt after everything--"

----

6 Weeks Ago

Y/N silently stared out the window. Her hands mindlessly moving up and down her now flatter stomach. She felt disgusting and like a failure. A failure as a wife and as a mother and...as a woman. She was hurting. Not physically, sure her entire body was in pain, but mentally, she was in much more pain.

Her head snapped as she heard the door open. She saw Bruce standing at the door, an almost uncomfortable look on his face. She shakily looked away, ashamed to even look at him.

She heard his almost scoff, "Y/N, come on. You need to talk about it."

She looked at him slightly before whispering with a strained voice, "So do you."

"Y/N, I didn't...nevermind." She looked away again as he walked further in, "Doctors said that you'll be able to leave soon. By the end of the week at most."

She nodded, "Alright." Her voice nearly numb and void of emotion. She turned her head to him, "You always gonna hate me now?"

Bruce sighed, "I don't...I don't hate you."

"Why not?" Her words started to lace with their own venom, "I lost our baby. Because I'm such a..."

He shook his head, "Don't finish that sentence. You are not a failure baby. It wasn't your fault. None of what happened was your fault. You weren't gonna know that someone was going to come after you.

----

Now

"Y/N?" She felt herself freeze when she heard the voice. She kept her eyes everywhere but at the door. She didn't want to see him. Not here. Not now. "Dick can you--"

"Mom doesn't want to see you."

"Dick you don't--"

"Dick it's okay." She whispered, looking at her oldest. "Take Damian down to the food court, force him to eat some junk."

"Mom--"

"Go." She whispered before he silently nodded and grabbed the younger boy, starting to carry him out of the room. She weakly gripped the blanket, "Why are you here?"

"Can I not visit my wife."

She shook her head, "I am not your wife, Bruce." She looked at him angrily, "You're the one who served the fucking papers."

"And I can't--"

"Bruce, you told me that the only reason you were letting me stay in the manor was for the kids. Was so that Damian didn't have to losing another person." She breathed angrily, "You stopped loving me, not the other way around. You're only here to keep up appearances that you are a loving and devoted husband." She leaned forward in his direction, "But I know exactly what you are."

"And what's that?" He challenged.

"A selfish coward who only cares for himself and his image."

He shook his head, "I'm sorry that I made you think so lowly of me."

Tears burned her eyes, "Get out."

"Y/N--"

"Get out, Bruce. Now."

He stood and started for the door, momentarily stopping to look at her. "I still love you, I know what I did and what I said shows otherwise, but all I ask for is one more chance and I'll prove it to you."

Her lip quivered for a moment before she whispered out, "Tell the nurses I woke up."

[phantomchick]

The ending of Oshi no Ko vs The beginning (chapter 166 vs 10)

So as you can see, there's clear evidence of intentional parallels happening here. This is the aftermath of Ai's death that mirrors the aftermath of Aqua's. Aka already claimed to have the ending planned well in advance months ago so it's not a big surprise that even the ending panels of the first (not counting the prologue) and last chapters match.

And yet Oshi no Ko still falls flat despite fulfilling its promise of a revenge-tragedy.

I think the biggest problem it has is the way the last chapter tells us instead of shows us as chapter 10 did.

Yes chapter 10 also used narrative text boxes a lot, but I argue that the effect then was much more immersive.

With them being used with precision to move us through a time skip with only the most necessary information about the fall out for the characters, even the distance had the effect of doing characterisation work with Aqua describing in a narrative text box how the policemen hid the scene from Ruby but Aqua felt his mother's body going cold beneath him as they arrived - this use of the text boxes casual tone over child Aqua sitting in his dead mother's lap gave a sense of disassociation and shock to the scene.

Even the textboxes turning black to mirror Aqua's dark emotions concerning his revenge as the star in his eye turned black showed how much attention was being paid to their use.

Ruby.

Ruby felt much more real in chapter 10, her rant about the internet's callous response to Ai's murder felt real and emotionally charged. In comparison, for all she's the main subject of the last chapter, she feels like a 2d cut out of herself, barely in there for all we see her struggling through Akane's observant gaze.

She expresses her motivation to be an idol despite hardship by acknowledging that Aqua's right about idolwork being difficult and cruel but reminding him that despite the darkside of the entertainment industry, their mother 'shone' very brightly. The talk about how Ruby shines more the darker things get and how this is a good thing because it reaches out to people trapped in darkness of their own (just like her when she was a terminally ill cancer patient) is clearly meant to echo this idea.

Frankly it fails.

Ruby feels hollow.

To the point where we barely get any insight into Ruby's real feelings at all or any emotional connection with her in comparison, by 166 it's genuinely unclear whether or not she's lying even to the portrait of her dead family when she's 'alone' on her way out the door.

We don't see a conversation between her and her adoptive mother about Aqua, we don't see her talking to Akane at all. We see her grief and her success from a deified distance, just like the fans do. And it alienates us from the character.

Lies are love and she has two stars in her eyes. Just like her mother did.

I think this more than anything condemns the idol industry, she has to keep lying even to herself about her job being fun because otherwise what was all that pain and suffering and loss for?

Aqua died in a murder-suicide (shout out to Taiki for experiencing a loved one doing this twice, poor guy) to give his little sister success in a job that she has to get up at 5.30 for, devote her entire youth to and will have to quit in less than a decade. It has to matter, that she provides escapism for people who are suffering like she did, but it doesn't change the grim reality of her exploitation.

I think the lack of dialogue in the final chapter and the loss of voice for Ruby in the last few arcs mirrors the loss of agency she experiences as she becomes the ultimate idol, everyone's star.

But that doesn't change the fact that from a reader perspective it's just bad writing. Aka failed to carry his audience with him to the finish line and his messages about the idol industry were blurred by the rushed plot after the movie arc began.

If it weren't for Mengo's art hard carrying the clumsily executed story, I can honestly say that I don't think many would have read this manga all the way to the end.

[snowblossomreads]

Day 11 - Out of Reach

Pairings: Lionel Shabandar x Fem!Reader

Summary: In where [Y/n] crushes on her boss who may or may not have similar feelings (spoilers he does)

Tag(s)/Warning(s): boss/secretary thing, pining, 'collecting' people, unhm not too much other stuff really, Lionel getting angy for a moment, worrying about job loss, that's it?

A/N: AYEE it's our boi Lionel 🦁🦁🦁 !!! I have not really written for him before lol so much sorry if it's out of character i'm trying here bhaha!

Crushing on your boss, was one of the most cliche things someone could ever do. Yet here [Y/n] was doing that exact thing, in hopes that maybe, it would all end up like a romantic Christmas BBC special. You know the one, where the protagonist is in love with their boss who, is very much out of reach? But it turns out the boss has been crushing too. Yeah, those.

Only, she didn't think Santa liked her that much. Granted, she stopped believing in him when she saw her mum sneaking presents under the tree when she was ten, but she also wasn’t a big believer in Christmas miracles. It’d be nice though. Because boooy, the list of things she would do for Lionel Shabandar to like her as much as she liked him was looong. 

And some of them were very much not child-friendly.

Hey, it wasn't her fault he was so handsome, suave, and also, so, so demanding of everyone he worked with. A lot of the people who worked for him found that he was a bit of an asshole, but her? Nah. She just saw a man who knew what he wanted, and did what he needed, to make sure he got it. And boy did watching him deal with some of his clients get her hot and bothered, when he would lay waste to them with facts and data until the other person had no other choice than to acquiesce to him, or go back to the drawing board. 

Lionel wasn't a fool, and he certainly didn't have time to suffer with fools or day dreamers. No, he had a business to run and a world to dominate with his media might. 

But speaking of day dreamers.  

"Day-dreaming again [Y/n]?"

The low rumble of his sonorous voice right by her ear, caused her to jolt in her seat as she hadn't even realized he had come over to her. Startled by him suddenly appearing right by her side, and giving her a look of amusement, she couldn't help the flood of embarrassment that ran through her veins, and showed on her face as she tried to play it off. Shuffling up some paper to make it look like she hadn't been zoning out, she smiled at him in hopes he would ignore her zoning out.

He of course, wasn't fooled by that. 

"I don't believe I pay you to just sit pretty and day dream about doing work," he continued, straightening to his full height and crossing his arms against his chest. "Though I do so enjoy looking at you as much as I do my Monet's. Much more interesting than silly paperwork. Though I guess it is a good problem to have. Paperwork that is."

Oh, also how could she forget how much of a flirt he was. Was it really her fault that she was crushing on him whenever he would say something like that to her? 

"I'm so sorry Lionel!" [Y/n] apologized profusely, looking at him bashfully. "It won't happen again! I was just looking at the winter gala information and the themes for the night," she lied hoping to save her skin. 

"Hmm really?"

"Yep, just wanted to make sure we had everything we needed before I went to talk to Earl about getting some potential sample art pieces for the gala."

There was a grimace on his face when she said that, and she noticed it would appear whenever they talked about his curator. She didn't know why, but he seemed to not really liked the man which was so very strange. He did hire him after all. 

"Then why do you only have the lunch menu of the Savoy's grill and memos from print media on your desk?"

She looked down and those were exactly the things on her desk. Well, would you look at that.

"I-I uhm…I got hungry?" 

If he fired her for that, he would very much be in the right for it as she watched him close his eyes, his lips going into a thin line before he let out air through his nose. 

She was about to lose her job wasn't she? So long any chance of her getting to date him. As if there were any in the first place.

"It is about time isn't it," Lionel spoke as he opened his eyes, and glanced down at his watch, and back to [Y/n] who was trying to not gawk at him.

What.

"But before that, I need you to find Earl." Another grimace. "And do indeed tell him about the samples, I rather have this done sooner than later so we can fix any mess ups that happen."

"Don't have any faith in him do you?"

"Barely," he groused, annoyance clear on his features as he rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure why I even keep him on, the quality of his work has been declining for a while now and as you know, I have no time to suffer fools. Especially with the growth that’s happening with the company."

She did. Which made her cheer knowing she wasn't a fool, at least because she was still here.

"Well everyone has their slumps sometimes Lionel," [Y/n] responded, actually dragging up the memos and notes from the board members with their requests and preferences for the gala. "Maybe he's just having one right now? He did help with curating the spring gala this year, and there were a lot of compliments from the board and others, so maybe he's rebounding?"

"The spring gala?" He huffed in exasperation at that memory, and she couldn't help but feel a rant coming on. "You mean after you had to intervene after seeing him show up with a collection of expressionism paintings rather than surrealism after he mixed up which storage room he went into?"

That had been a whole debacle, and she’d never seen Lionel turn that red with anger. The heat had practically radiated off of him as he glared at poor Earl who was bumbling his apologies while [Y/n] tried to calm Lionel. 

"If it wasn't for you it would have been a  bloody disaster!" 

Eh, he did have a point. But she liked Earl pretty well, and he seemed mostly competent. Mostly competent, was well below Lionel's standards though.

"I'll take the compliment, but I'll make sure I'm clear with Earl this time about what we need," she smiled, garnering a similar look from him that made her stomach feel all funny.

He had a very nice smile. 

"Good, other than your daydreaming," he started, causing her to want to squirm in embarrassment, "you've clearly been a better hire than my previous assistant," Lionel mused as his features softened, his eyes watching her intently making  her to feel a bit shy under his gaze. "I'm not one for silly praise, your compensation should be enough for that." 

It was. Quite generous actually. 

"But I do hope you stay on for as long as possible, I do quite like seeing you every day, and appreciate how thorough your work is."

If her face wasn't on fire from earlier when he had shown up next to her suddenly, it sure was now. Something else was on fire as well. Leave it up to her to turn his praise into something more. 

"Thank you Lionel, I hope I can keep satisfying you with my work."

"Oh, I'm sure you will." He replied, flashing a smirk at her that many a woman before had fallen for, and she was not ashamed to be another on the list. "Now," he cleared his throat, "before you talk to Earl, I think lunch is waiting for us. That is if you care to join me today?"

"Yes please!"

"Get. Out." 

He was hot and fuming, but his words were as chilly as the London air this time of the year. Actually, they may have been colder. 

Add the way she had never seen someone run from his office like this, and she had seen some people powerwalk out the door mind you, and she knew they were in a shitty place.

Six weeks until the gala and the ball had been dropped and bad. Earl was out, and they were left with a steaming pile of turd, Lionel's words not hers. But it was very much what it was. 

"Lionel I've called, Andrew, Catherine, James and Holly but all of them are either booked with work or out of the country and won't be able to make it."

"What about Martin?"

"I left a message with Mr. Zaidenweber's assistant, but she said he had just started work with another client and won't be able to fit it into his schedule with such short notice."

"Bloody damn!" He hissed, slamming his hand on the desk, causing some of the items on it to shake and fall. One of the victims, was a little globe that rolled off it and onto the floor as it made its way towards where [Y/n] was standing. "I should have fired him months ago!" He spat, as he leaned over his desk to look at the samples that were left , and it seemed to make him even more furious as he swiped them onto the floor with force. The sound of the pages crinkling filled the air with a ‘woosh’ as he did that.

"And now I'm going to look like an absolute fool to these people because of that little prat!" 

Grabbing the little globe that rolled towards her before it tapped the sole of her shoe, she brought it back to his desk, sitting it down before backing away. She could feel the fury radiating off of him, and rightfully so, considering all the important people who were supposed to be coming to talk business. 

While she wasn't extremely savvy in all of that, only knowing bits and bobs from what Lionel told her, and a bit of research she had to do when clients were coming. She knew appearances were everything, and taking into account what people liked and didn't like was important. 

And Earl had mucked up terribly it seemed, after mishearing what she had said, even though she had sent him memo after memo with what was needed. In a way, it made her feel like it was her fault even logically it wasn't. Still, though, he had entrusted her with that task, and from where she was at right now she felt like a great big failure.

"I'm so sorry Lionel!" She blurted out, her head dropping to look at the floor, hoping to avoid his anger and also to avoid him seeing how her eyes began to gloss.  

A familiar pang in her chest attempted to crawl up her throat, and she tried to keep it down as she had no intention of crying in front of him.

There was a beat of silence before he answered, and when he did, his voice was filled with utter confusion because what was she talking about? 

"I'm sorry?" A look of bewilderment appeared on his face that she couldn't see, and with the tone of his voice going up from his norm, it made her want to hide. "What are you going on about [Y/n]? I don't pay you to curate art though at this point I may have to!" 

"It's just, I-I was the one who said Earl would be fine doing it," she explained shakily as she fidgeted with her fingers. "Even during lunch that one time. I tried to convince you of it…and now he's gone and botched it! I know the board is going to have something to say if things don't go right. And it's not gone right…just because I couldn't keep my mouth shut." 

The room was quiet for a moment before the sound of his shoes tapping against the floor echoed around the space as he approached her. With each step, she felt her heart drop further into her stomach. All that joking around about losing her job, but this time, she might really lose it. 

Head still bowed, even when she felt him standing in front of her, she was jolted when she felt a hand wrap around her forearm, and a finger lifting her head up to look at him.

His lips were drawn into a frown, but the look in his eyes was devoid of anger. Especially now, when he saw her eyes that were rimmed red, which caused a look of concern to etch itself onto his face

"[Y/n] once again you have things arse backwards," Lionel huffed, but gently. "I hired you to run around and make sure the others have their orders, not, to do their work! Not only that, I can assure you I have no intention of blaming anyone for the decisions I make. And it was my decision to let him continue on. So enough of that, I don't enjoy your tears being wasted on something silly like this." 

"B-But I-."

"[Y/n]." His voice was stern, and she quickly shut her mouth not one to back talk him. That seemed to placate him considering the pleased smile on his face before a thoughtful one took over.

"Good. Mow that we are on the same page, I need to make a call, I think I may have a solution. But well, we will see," he explained as he removed his finger from under her chin, which caused disappointment to rise in her chest. Though the one on her arm stayed and she wasn't in a hurry to move it. 

She was hopeless wasn't she?

"Why don't you go and have lunch while I make a call, darling."

Darling? 

That was a first. But she wasn't gonna complain about it either as he didn't even seem phased by what he had said. 

For a moment, she wondered if he had even realized what had come out of his mouth. But he gave no hint of whether or not he did, and she could only do so much to hold back the grin that wanted to break through..

"Sure! Should I bring you back your usual?"

"Yes, that will be fine."

Giving him a smile, they stood in the same spot for a moment, his hand still on her arm as they gazed at one another before [Y/n] made the first move.

"W-well I'll be back and hopefully to some good news," she rambled, as she stepped back from his hold, which caused him to let go of her.  

Already she missed his touch, but they had things to do, his was probably more important by hey so was eating. 

Watching her go on her way, Lionel bit his bottom lip as she left all while he lingered in the middle of the room. His thoughts filled with a plan that he was sure to work, but also with thoughts of [Y/n]. 

His sweet, caring, brilliant, hard working assistant, who was also extremely alluring, so much so he would be remiss to compare her to the paintings he had. Oh no, she was much more stunning than those paintings. 

And like the collector he was, he wanted to collect her. Maybe even have her in his permanent collection…

The only problem was he couldn't tell if she was as interested in him as he was her. But with the way she let him touch her, and how she seemed to hold back when he called her that little pet name, maybe there was a chance. 

A smirk graced his lips at the thought of having her all for himself, but it would have to wait, because he had a gala that needed curating for, and no curator. And that just would not do.

So, he made his way to his desk and took his seat behind it. His back facing the glass window that showed a busy plaza in the middle of London as he picked up his desk phone and dialed a familiar number.

It rang a few times before the receiver was picked up on the other end, and a much to happy sounding voice came through the phone almost shouting.

"Li! What a surprise! You never call me at work without an appointment! And right before lunch too. Everything alright?"

"Quite alright, yes, but Sinclair, I need a favor." 

A/N: What's next? Who knows : D ( I do hehe)

[godihatethiswebsite]

Mourning Doves

✽Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!reader

Johnny provides you with some comfort after your favorite hockey team loses

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

This is a little drabble I wrote for me and @ohbo-ohno after we both suffered grievous losses in the Stanley Cup playoffs tonight. I know we're supposed to be in mourning, but the brain bunnies demanded comfort so I stayed up late and wrote it myself ❤️

Also I'm biased so it's our favorite Scotsman

"I'm going to die."

"Yer not goin' tae die."

"Bury me in the garden underneath the willow tree."

"Ye havnae gone there since ya ran into that spiderweb last summer."

"The spider can have my carcass."

"Now yer jus' being a numpty."

Your face was still buried in the pillow from where you put it fifteen minutes ago, the rest of your body sprawled out on your stomach with your right arm and leg dangling off the couch like a limp ragdoll. He'd returned home to find you like this after a late night spent with the team, expecting to find you asleep by the time he got home from the bar since it was now well after midnight. Instead, he's greeted with the sight of your theatrics to having watched your favorite hockey team - the Denver Brown Bears - defeated in double overtime by the Austin Tigers.

Johnny located the remote you must've tossed in your grief and turned the TV off, setting it on the coffee table before kneeling down next to your form, running his knuckles up and down your hanging limb. "There now, hen. Dunnae fret. Ye'll get 'em next year, ah'm sure of it."

Turning your head to the side, he finally got to see the sunken expression marring your beautiful face; bloodshot eyes overflowing with tears, face flushed and splotchy from crying. You'd tried to put on a brave facade with your earlier banter, but it was obvious now that you were struggling. This was more than just a minor upset - his girl was genuinely hurting.

His brows furrowed and heart dropped in his chest to see you so devastated. He knew how much this had meant to you, the unbridled joy and excitement he'd seen you display the past few weeks as your team made it into the playoffs had only endeared him to you even more. Oh sure, he'd ribbed you for it playfully whenever he saw you curled up in the living room wearing the Bears goalie's jersey animatedly cheering on your team and throwing popcorn at a bad call, but truthfully he'd loved getting to see you so spirited, especially knowing the rough patch you'd been going through lately. Hockey had been a good distraction and it was a shame the season had to end like this for you.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, damped by the moisture and sticking to your skin before moving it back behind your ear. The quiet broken whimper as he touched your cheek had him reacting on instinct, rolling you onto your side so that he could lift you up into his arms, cradling you to his chest as your hand fisted his shirt like a child would seeking comfort. What tears had slowed over time began anew now that you had him here, needing his steadiness and warmth to ground you from the onslaught of emotions pulling you down below the waves. He kept his voice soft and tone reassuring, letting you seek solace in his familiar embrace.

"Shhhh... s'alright, mo chridhe. Ah'm here. Ah've got ye..."

Carrying you down the hall, he carefully toed the bedroom door open, slipping inside the darkened room before closing it behind him with his heel. He stepped over the wrinkled clothes on the floor as he made his way over to the bed, never stopping his comforting noises as you continued to hiccup out tears, ruining his shirt with wetness from where your face stayed pressed against his collarbone.

Johnny perched himself on the edge of the bed, settling you more comfortably in his lap as the arm that had been tucked under your knees moved to rub circles into your back. He let you get all your emotions out, content to just hold you safe until the worst of it had passed. It tore at his insides to see you so depressed, wishing it was a problem he could get his hands on instead of feeling so useless for you. He'd never been very good at sitting idly by, the beast under his skin itching for a fight he could walk away bloodied from. If it wasn't for the baser need to be here for you, there's a good chance he'd be on his phone right now trying to convince the lads to take a day trip down to Austin with him for some retribution for making his girl weep.

But no. Putting his fists into an entire hockey team wouldn't change the outcome of tonight. Johnny knew you simply had to let time take it's course and eventually make it easier for you to move on past your grief.

Once your cries had quieted and tears lessened, he'd gently maneuvered you off his lap and onto the mattress, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head before walking over to the dresser and rooting around for something more comfortable to wear. He ignored the quiet sniffles behind him as he worked quickly to rid himself of his clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and an old army shirt before joining you back by the bed. You let him tug the Bears jersey up over your head, keeping your arms raised as he replaced it with one of his soft shirts you often loved to steal from him, dragging your pants off your legs before pulling back the comforter and motioning you to climb in.

Once you got situated in your spot, Johnny curled up right next to you and pulled you back into his hold, head resting on his chest as your limbs tangled together under the sheets. He made sure you were tucked in all nice and snuggly, heart fluttering at the familiar sensation of you nuzzling your face into him and breathing in his scent. You were still upset at the loss, but it was easier to deal with wrapped up in your lover's arms.

There weren't many problems that being with Johnny couldn't fix; he was your pillar, your rock, the one thing in this world that could find you in the darkest of depths and drag you from it's clutches up towards the surface. He radiated pure light in a way that even after all this time together still left you in total awe. He liked to say he wasn't a good man - that you deserved someone made of softer materials with less blood on their hands - but he didn't understand it no matter how hard you tried to explain.

You didn't need soft. You needed someone made of iron and shattered teeth that could fight back your inner demons. Someone with scarred knuckles and split lips who knew how to mend the tattered edges of your soul because they already had the experience stitching themselves back together with needle and thread.

So on nights like tonight when you couldn't fight your own battles...

"I really wanted them to win..."

"Ah ken, love. Ah ken. But jus' think how hard they fought fer ye. Dinnae go down easy that's fer damn sure. Be proud of yer boys, love. It's cuz of bonny lasses like yerself that they had the support and strength to get as far as they did. They'll come back swingin' - and when they do, they'll naught ask fer a better fan cheerin' them on."

...you knew you had someone right there beside you to throw the first punch and shield your body with his own.

And if you ever asked him to, he'd glady show those Tigers what happens when they encounter a pack of wolves

[alice-after-dark]

Me everyone doing a head canon of Vox being rich in life or child abuse of being a child actor: okay sounds fun

Also me who has a more darker version of the 1950s especially during the Cold War. In terms of espionage and mind control: what if Vox was an alexample of human experimentation. The CIA literally did Project MKUltra on citizens and foreigners alike and sent them to detention centers. Vox hates his brainwashing abilities bc it reminds him of what he had to suffer through and a constant reminder that he does not have the charisma to sell products. Just a push in the right direction.

I mean whenever he gets out of control his eye flares involuntarily. Without control. Also his mechanical body can represent the loss of control over his life. The loss of autonomy when he glitches. Reminds him of the pain of the experience in his human life.

Maybe if he was released he got a job as a television broadcaster. The Trust Us brand was US propaganda he just internalized. He has no respect for governmental bodies he just wants power because power is given to you by pain and not be people.

Sorry for rambling and if it doesn’t make any sense.

Oh friendo, you are speaking my language.

I think it is absolutely criminal how little this fandom truly gets into the historical stuff. There's so much potential! While yeah, I do think the usual headcanon of wealthy Vox or child actor, etc. sounds fun and does work very well for him, there's just so much potential here. It's the 1950s, man!

Trigger warning for abuse, loss of autonomy, and other canon-typical triggers.

I actually have random notes about a Vox-MKUltra idea around here somewhere lol It's so cool! Like he literally has brainwashing abilities and is from the 1950s, how has no one brought this up yet?! I love your take on this, it's such a cool idea! And the whole idea of the mechanical body being a representation of the loss of his autonomy and free will? How he is a commodity himself? Genius.

That would be so cool about the propaganda. Like ngl your post is really making me wonder if there's not some actual truth to what you're saying. Even without the MKUltra angle (though it's very cool so I prefer it with lol), being a TV host or something similar in the 1950s probably would have seen him peddling some propaganda with everything going on. Makes a lot of sense why he would be very good at it now.

Thank you so much for sharing!

[inchidentally]

@vastappenen LISTEN okay so this is the full spin-off of the Charlos part of my Prince Lando AU post

I cannot write real fic so this is just like me doing a retelling of what's gone on in my mind lol - and this is the post of Charles in White that's screencapped above

(side note my friend was listening to this haunting music while I wrote this so it might help set the scene - it's called "Fancy on a Bach Air" by Yo-Yo Ma)

this gets a bit NSFW toward the end so fair warning!

ok so to start, this is what was in my original post

Unfortunately the royal courts of Europe were shaken by a quick series of upsets: His Serene Highness Lorenzo of Monaco abdicated the throne in search of a quieter life - his heart had never been in it since his father, the former Sovereign Prince, had become ill and abdicated. This left Lorenzo’s unwed brother Charles to be hastily crowned Prince Regent at the tender age of 22 (too young to be crowned Sovereign Prince bc modern monarchy rules I’m inventing). As a result Charles suffered the loss of his long-time suitor, nobleman Sebastian Vettel, who couldn’t bear the thought of being Sovereign Prince let alone of a land that wasn’t even his own.

Enter the Sainz Vázquez de Castro elders seizing the opportunity and negotiating a deal with Monaco in private conclave with the Papal State (??) to wed their son Carlos to the Prince Regent. Carlos is ashamed at giving in to the temptation… to not just be Prince Consort but to be Sovereign Prince, to rule over the vast wealth of Monaco and by extension the Holy See, to have the coveted beauty Charles in his bed. So he agrees to be spirited away to Monaco and the ugly business of dissolving his betrothal to Lando is left to members of church and state.

But Carlos experiences a complete conversion when Charles is on his knees in the cathedral - looking up at him with docile green eyes as Carlos’ fingertips touch the warm red roses of Charles’ lips as he holds the chalice of holy wine for Charles to drink. Carlos was almost hard beneath the ermine and velvet robes in a house of God when the crown was on his head and Charles next to him - and slightly below - smiling up at him with filaments of gold hanging from pendants on his chaplet, framing his achingly beautiful face. If Carlos feels his immense happiness and prosperity darken whenever he sees Lando’s picture or encounters him at one of the courts then no one need know.

ok so I've removed this from the narrative to of course be charlos true happiness endgame and removed Seb entirely, or he can just be called a close confidante and possible candidate to marry Charles but not very serious.

I imagine young Carlos Jr. moving through the royal courts as a child and teen and seeing the royal children of Monaco sometimes. in my weird version of royalty I have it that Lorenzo is the natural successor to the throne and therefore has always been allowed to dress and be seen "normally". as a second child, Charles was always the rightful property of whichever alliance would maintain Monaco's independence. he was raised mostly in the Prince's Palace and when playing or venturing to where he could be seen he's attended by a retinue of guards each carrying a gonfalon to conceal the young prince from view. on the rare occasions that the prince will be around those not within his immediate family or private staff, he is carefully wrapped in embroidered, jeweled white silks or cottons (depending on the climate) with only his eyes visible. the only color allowed being a scarlet silk girdle around his hips. until he reaches maturity or is married he wears a ferronnière with a single white diamond at his forehead. (I imagine the wrapping as looking like fancy white fireproofs that cover the hands as well and a long, flowy tunic over the top with smart little white renaissance boots (that Charles hates).

Prince Charles is also not permitted to speak outside of his family circle/staff but he is taught multiple languages and fond rumors spread that the prince has a charming lilting accent that comes from a little of everywhere. he is also taught the piano and there is a place on the shore that only locals know of where fairy echoes of his playing can be heard. they call it his 'lone voice' because the mood inside the palace can be judged by the prince's choice of music. childish and jolly for a while, then more challenging pieces, until his eighteenth birthday and an unknown dirge for his godfather who had perished during a racing tourney that summer. the prince's music would change over the years but it would never be joyful again.

I imagine many instances over the years of Carlos Jr. being coaxed by a conniving Carlos Sr. into bowing low to the small, mummified-looking creature that everyone assures him is a prince. the eyes and vague suggestion of white-clad hands and feet are the only indications that this is true, but the big green eyes are very expressive and seem to smile whenever they meet Carlos' own big brown eyes. Prince Lorenzo has a kind smile and would be a good playmate but solemnly maintains his position by his parents' side. Prince Arthur comes along in a bundle of energy and mischief - being blessed with a birthright to total freedom so long as his elder siblings are alive. he enjoys being swung around and thrown in the air by Carlos Jr. which helps pass the tedium of royal engagements. Arthur is clearly the favorite of Charles who rather mothers him - especially when the Sovereign Prince falls ill and hushed preparations are made behind palace walls for Lorenzo to take the throne. Charles is so deep in mourning for his godfather and soon his own father that his presentation at court is delayed indefinitely as it would be cruel to open him up to marriage bids that would inevitably take him from his home.

in the meantime, Carlos Jr. has grown into his large features and promises to inherit all his father's looks and daring. at his father's encouragement - "by the time you wed a virgin, you will need to know everything there is to know about pleasing them" - Carlos enjoys countless conquests across every continent on the globe. he's a seasoned bachelor by the age of 20 and has been given his own estate outside of Madrid to party, race expensive cars and drink expensive wine. but even as he wakes between the thighs of this or that beautiful boy or girl, his mind recalls the hours spent at court in Monaco trying to discern the subtlest lines of Prince Charles' body beneath the absurd layers of drapery. he knows for sure that the prince is slim but not scrawny. that his posture is upright and proud and stands about the same height as Carlos. at times when he scoops Arthur up to hold on one hip, Carlos can discern the fine dip of a small waist - probably small enough for Carlos' big hands to meet around. what a gift-wrapped present for whoever got to marry him!

but by the time they next meet, news has traveled all over of the Sovereign Prince's health and plans for the reluctant Prince Lorenzo to be hastily crowned. during their first visit after this news, Carlos Jr. makes his usual low bow to Prince Charles but when he looks up he sees tears clouding the prince's green eyes. it twists Carlos' heart and he boldly takes the prince's hand and presses a hurried kiss to the silk and at the same time trying to speak with his eyes how sorry he is for the prince. the small noise Charles makes at Carlos' boldness is a precious secret Carlos holds like a tangible thing against the breast of his tailcoat as he hurries down the steps before any of the other royals can notice what he's done.

[this is when the above section from my AU comes in and Carlos is attempted to be married off to Prince Lando, Lorenzo abdicates, Charles can only be named Prince Regent bc of his status etc and a hasty arrangement is made for him to marry Carlos]

at their wedding I imagine Charles' veil/headdress to be much lighter and tied in a simple knot at the base of his head. the only time Charles is called to speak is to swear fealty to the crown, to his country, and to his husband (it's also the first time Charles' voice has been heard by almost everyone in the Cathedral including Carlos. it sounds like joyous music, dipping deep and rich one moment and high and sweet the next - with a little bubble of laughter at the end. Carlos wants to hear him talk forever.) when the priest finishes his blessing, Carlos put a hand beneath Charles' chin and guides him to stand. he moves closer to Charles than he has ever been permitted and circles his arms around his neck to untie the knot. the veil falls away and a collective gasp rises up from the cathedral through the clouds of incense. Carlos doesn't gasp so much as suck in a triumphant breath through his nostrils and lifts his chin in triumph. Charles is not just the chaste ideal of beauty that the court and citizens of Monaco had whispered about for years, he is the vision of temptation itself: a delicate brush-spatter of freckles beneath a flush on finely molded cheekbones, a straight French nose that was the final word on French noses, and perfectly smooth lips in the shape of a patriotic 'M' and the exact red of Monaco's flag. the prince's hair and brows have all the shades of a glossy hazelnut and a thick fan of lashes surrounded the green eyes - all that Carlos had known of him until now. but soon, he would know everything about Charles and in a way no one else ever had or would.

Carlos is supposed to buss a small, ceremonial barely-there kiss to Charles' lips to please the court but of course he can't help himself and, holding Charles' face in his big hands, presses a fiercely possessive (thankfully still close-mouthed) kiss that nearly makes Charles collapse. murmurs go around the cathedral of "well, those Spaniards, you know".

when they are crowned, my version of royalty has the priest setting the heavy gold crown on Carlos' head but Carlos in turn places the chaplet of gold leaves and gemstone pendants on Charles. Carlos is flying as high as mortal can when he can finally lead Charles out to the balcony and show him off to the waiting public. Carlos wonders if there's a man on earth who possesses more wealth than he does at that moment.

but there's one more thing he doesn't yet have! oh you bet the bedding ceremony is weird and fucked up and poor Charles is using the short time they have alone as they move through the halls (merely flanked by guards) to nervously and apologetically explain to Carlos what they will need to do. something about protocol for regents who found it difficult to "perform" under such circumstances etc. Carlos just puts a big warm hand to Charles' lips as they are rushed along, leaning into to whisper that he'd take Charles' virginity in front of his own grandmother if that's what was required and his desire still wouldn't be dampened.

the chamber is small and has one purpose. the clergy stand behind wrought iron mullioned screens but Charles can see their eyes clearly and has known many of them all his life. he'd probably faint dead away from nerves if Carlos didn't pull him close and kiss him so deep and dirty it should've turned Charles' white gown red with lust. Carlos tells him to look only into his eyes, that he'll take good care of him. there's a whole intense sexy element to Carlos unwrapping Charles the rest of the way, just like the birthday present he'd imagined when he was a teenager. he probably spends WAY too much time on foreplay considering the witnesses are only there to see one thing and then leave but Carlos knows that Charles deserves this. by the time they've reached the point where Carlos can reach a hand between them and literally 'come' up with the goods to hold up and be viewed, Charles' moans are reaching up to the rafters. there's a rustle and murmured blessings as the priests finally withdraw.

Carlos is like FINALLY and decides to give Charles every bit of the benefit of his vast experience and looks smug as hell when Charles' attendants have to physically carry Charles to his own bed bc Carlos fucked him senseless lmao

agfalsgfsla this was so weird and detailed and I do not know WHERE it came from but if an actual writer sees this and wants to write it properly PLEASE tag me or message me!!!

EDIT: these are great photo references for adult Charles and Carlos in this AU

source

[darkskywishes]

Levi and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

TW: mentions of rape and childhood sexual abuse

Throughout the course of Attack on Titan, and even before the canon timeline, Levi experiences innumerable traumas, not the least of which are repeatedly experiencing the deaths of his closest friends and comrades. By the end of the series, Levi has lost every single person he had been close to, being the last of the Survey Corps' veterans. Given the truly immense amount of traumatic events Levi suffers, it'd be difficult to believe that he wouldn't have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and indeed, he does display several key features of the disorder.

Paraphrased, the DSM-5-TR PTSD criteria are as follows (American Psychiatric Association, 2022, p. 301):

Criterion A: stressor (one required)

The person was exposed to: death, threatened death, actual or threatened serious injury, or actual or threatened sexual violence, in the following way(s):

Direct exposure

Witnessing the trauma

Learning that a relative or close friend was exposed to a trauma

Indirect exposure to aversive details of the trauma, usually in the course of professional duties (e.g., first responders, medics)

Criterion B: intrusion symptoms (one required)

The traumatic event is persistently re-experienced in the following way(s):

Unwanted upsetting memories

Nightmares

Flashbacks

Emotional distress after exposure to traumatic reminders

Physical reactivity after exposure to traumatic reminders

Criterion C: avoidance (one required)

Avoidance of trauma-related stimuli after the trauma, in the following way(s):

Trauma-related thoughts or feelings

Trauma-related external reminders

Criterion D: negative alterations in cognitions and mood (two required)

Negative thoughts or feelings that began or worsened after the trauma, in the following way(s):

Inability to recall key features of the trauma

Overly negative thoughts and assumptions about oneself or the world

Exaggerated blame of self or others for causing the trauma

Negative affect

Decreased interest in activities

Feeling isolated

Difficulty experiencing positive affect

Criterion E: alterations in arousal and reactivity (two required)

Trauma-related arousal and reactivity that began or worsened after the trauma, in the following way(s):

Irritability or aggression

Risky or self-destructive behavior

Hypervigilance

Heightened startle reaction

Difficulty concentrating

Difficulty sleeping

Criterion F: duration (required)

Symptoms last for more than 1 month.

Criterion G: functional significance (required)

Symptoms create distress or functional impairment (e.g., social, occupational).

Criterion H: exclusion (required)

Symptoms are not due to medication, substance use, or other illness.

--

I've indicated the symptoms that apply to Levi, or that I believe likely apply, based on canon content in purple. Let's go one by one.

Criterion A: stressor

During the canon timeline, Levi was exposed to both large amounts of death and threatened death, primarily due to titan casualties, but also due to the circumstances of poverty and deprivation in the Underground. Notable examples include witnessing his mother die and decay while he starved as a young child; Furlan and Isabel's deaths; the deaths of Petra, Oluo, Gunther, and Eld during the Female Titan arc; the loss of Kenny; Erwin and the new recruits' suicide charge against the Beast Titan; and Hange's sacrifice.

Levi experienced multiple instances of serious injury, with the most significant being his injuries resulting from the thunderspear explosion and the Battle of Heaven and Earth. Given the nature of blast injuries, it is likely Levi suffered from internal damage—in particular, rupture of the respiratory and hollow organs, such as the lungs and bowels. We're also shown he suffered complete separation of the index and middle fingers of his right hand, as well as ocular damage to his right eye. A concussion and perhaps a traumatic brain injury following the blast is also likely, as well as hearing damage. Following the Battle of Heaven and Earth, he also experienced significant injuries to one of his legs, necessitating the use of a wheelchair three years post-Rumbling.

In regard to actual or threatened sexual violence, Levi was born and lived in a brothel, in which his mom was a prostitute. It's not an exaggeration to say Levi was likely the result of rape. Given the circumstances of his upbringing, it's also likely he witnessed the sexual encounters between his mother and the brothel's patrons and was perhaps sexually abused himself when his mother was unable or unavailable to protect him. Given the Bad Boy panel previews, we also know he was directly threatened with sex trafficking on at least one occasion.

Only one stressor is required to meet this criterion, and Levi meets all of them. He very much fits the profile of someone with complex trauma or C-PTSD, although that diagnosis has not yet been added to the DSM.

Criterion B: intrusion symptoms

Canon evidence of intrusion symptoms is a bit harder to find, given the heavy plot focus of Attack on Titan; however, I do believe there is enough to make some inferences.

During the Uprising arc, Levi takes note of a starving woman with her baby on multiple occasions, who appears to remind him of his mother. This indicates to me that he thinks of his mother and the circumstances in which he grew up with her with some regularity.

When he later confronts Kenny in the same arc, he specifically questions Kenny regarding the relationship he had with his mother, again indicating that Levi's mother took up significant space in his thoughts.

While we know Kuchel chose to keep Levi (rather than abort him), thus indicating Levi was a desired baby, it's evident that Levi's upbringing overall was damaging and distressing due to the severe poverty, food insecurity, and violence he endured as a young child. Accordingly, it's safe to assume that these memories related to his mother were likely to be both unwanted and upsetting.

We also have this panel during the War for Paradis arc, during which Levi ruminates on the deaths of his comrades and the purpose behind having saved Eren's life so many times. His facial expressions are truly crushing and filled with deep despair.

In terms of nightmares, we know that Levi experiences some truly disturbing dreams from the "Smartpass Good Night, Dear and Sweet Dreams Vol. 02" short story, in which he envisions his closest comrades all morphing into a sea of blood on a red carpet. Clearly, the affect of his dream has been influenced by the specter of death constantly looming over him.

Criterion C: avoidance

The full phrasing of this symptom (trauma-related external reminders) is, "Avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s)." Similar to the unwanted upsetting memories symptom under Criterion B, there is not direct canon evidence, but I do believe there is enough to make some inferences.

Primarily, what sticks out to me about Levi is the fact that no one near him seems to have knowledge of his past, which indicates he does not talk about it. When his past is brought up, it's always people who have some direct knowledge about it speaking on it (e.g., Kenny or Erwin). This is shown both directly in canon, such as when Petra speaks to Eren regarding the rumors of Levi's recruitment into the Survey Corps, and in supplemental Smartpass content, like the Close Up interview with Erwin and Levi.

This comes across to me as an effort to avoid conversations, and thus, reminders and memories about the topic.

Criterion D: negative alterations in cognitions and mood

There's quite a lot of evidence for these in canon.

In terms of overly negative thoughts and assumptions about oneself or the world, Levi has plenty. He appears to have the persistent belief that he only exists to be of service and use to others; he views himself as a tool, one which has no value if he is not directly contributing to something. This is exemplified by the following panels:

When Erwin asks Levi if he would be willing to be in charge of keeping the titan serum and determining whom to use it on, Levi answers with, "Why would you bother asking me?" This shows that Levi has no regard for his own personal feelings.

When Erwin and Levi are discussing the plan to take down the Beast Titan during the Reclamation of Wall Maria, Levi expresses his agreement with the plan by remarking that taking down the Beast Titan will act as him "[making] amends for failing to kill that armored brat earlier." This shows that Levi viewed it as his responsibility, and thus, his failure to take down Reiner. He placed an undue burden on himself here, casting blame for outcomes that should not be solely attributed to him.

And then there's this panel in the lead-up to the final battle, in which a severely wounded Levi is being reprimanded by Armin for being reckless and not resting, in light of his injuries. Levi responds, "... You want me asleep in bed? You're going to forget I even exist if I rest any longer." Levi suffered truly disabling injuries, and yet, he shows complete disregard for himself—concerned that no one will remember him if he is not actively fighting. This shows a projection of his own lack of self-worth onto how he believes others view him: if he is not useful, then he does not matter. Levi also shows disdain at the concept of resting and having been asleep, as if that's somehow a sign of laziness on his part, which is of course, untrue. No one would have faulted him for resting—he truly needed and deserved to rest.

We also know that Levi blamed himself for Kenny leaving him, which can be surmised from interviews with Isayama and the expression on Levi's face when Kenny abandoned him. Levi also asks Kenny why Kenny left him, which shows a certain preoccupation on Levi's part, wherein he worried there must have been something inherently wrong with him to make Kenny leave.

On the topic of Kenny and Levi, Isayama is quoted as saying:

"Levi still had the experience of being separated from Kenny during his childhood. He was constantly troubled by the thought of "Kenny left because I couldn't fulfill his expectations." When the Uprising occurred within the walls, and he confronted Kenny again as an enemy, Levi sought to meet what couldn't be satisfied previously." (x)

Regarding both negative affect and difficulty experiencing positive affect, Levi's expression and mood is frequently shown as depressed. There's a great post by @cosmicjoke on the topic. In terms of the latter, Levi laughs and smiles so infrequently that it's a significant moment at the conclusion of the Uprising arc when he smiles after Historia playfully punches him.

For decreased interest in activities, the full phrasing is, "Markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities." Levi's character is contrasted with all the other characters in the series in the sense that he has no dreams of his own. Both Armin and Hange have that greater curiosity about the unknowns of the world, represented by the sea and titans; Erwin is similar in that he desired to validate his dad's theories about the outside world and the existence of other humans; Eren craved freedom above all else; etc. Levi, on the other hand, is never shown as having those same dreams and ambitions. Hence, I would say he demonstrates a markedly diminished participation in significant activities, as even though his complete lack of self-interest is immensely admirable, it is also deeply tragic—particularly as dreams and ambitions are often crucial for one's psychological well-being.

And then we also have feeling isolated, for which the full phrasing is, "Feelings of detachment or estrangement from others." On the topic of Levi and relationships, Isayama is quoted as saying, "It’s likely because he is afraid of forming close relationships. Because he exists in a world where one can be eaten by a Titan at any time, he consistently avoids building 'family'-like connections with others." (x)

This manga panel is a good example of how Levi views himself as detached from others. Pay attention to the phrasing: "And I doubt normal people think about these things on a daily basis... So that means I'm abnormal... Probably because I've seen far too many abnormal things."

Criterion E: alterations in arousal and reactivity

With all of the above laid out, Criterion E becomes very easy to meet.

For irritability or aggression, this is one of Levi's known character flaws, borne as a result of his upbringing.

For risky or self-destructive behavior, we have clear instances of Levi engaging in battle to the detriment of his physical well-being.

For hypervigilance, the last manga panel I attached provides a good example of that.

For difficulty sleeping, Levi is famously an insomniac, often quoted as getting 2-4 hours of sleep a night.

Criterions F, G, and H: duration, functional significance, and exclusion

Have the duration of Levi's symptoms been greater than one month? Yes.

Do the symptoms result in distress or functional impairment? Yes.

Are the symptoms more attributable to the physiological effects of a substance or another medical condition? No.

Thus, Criterions F, G, and H are met.

Citations

American Psychiatric Association. (2022). Trauma- and stressor-related disorders. In Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed., text rev.).

[auras-moonstone]

mad woman — ethan landry (part two)

word count: 839

summary: ethan and y/n talk about their deceased siblings and begin to bond.

pairing: gf!ethan landry x gf!fem!reader

based on: mad woman by taylor swift

previous part ; next part

SURPRISINGLY, BAILEY LET HER JOIN THE PLAN. It didn’t take a lot of convincing on Ethan’s part, they all suffered the loss of a loved one, so they knew the thirst for revenge Y/N must be feeling.

“I’m sorry you have to go through that… being close to the person that killed your sister must be tough, kid” Bailey said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“It is, but I know that this pain is worth it. We are going to make them regret taking them away from us”

“Well said” Quinn spoke, and Y/N sent her a smile. “We should head back to the dorm”.

“Sure. Thanks for everything, Mr. Kirsch” Y/N said with a warm smile.

“You are welcome anytime” he replied.

“Bye, dad” the Kirsch siblings said in unison as they left their dad’s home.

“You two go, I have other plans” Quinn told them.

“Paul?” Y/N asked with a playful smile.

“God, no. That is over, this one is called Lorenzo” the red head informed.

“Uh, Lorenzo. I like it, have fun” the girl waved at her roommate.

“You too, but if you have too much fun please don’t tell me” the girl’s voice distorted as she walked away, but they were still able to hear her.

Ethan’s blood rushed into his cheeks “Sometimes she speaks too freely”.

“You say that now, but if…” she stopped herself from going further and killing the mood “Sorry”.

“Hey, no. It’s okay, you can talk to me, you know?”

Ethan and her weren’t close at all. This new alliance brought them closer, yes, but the word ‘friend’ was still a bit too big for their relationship. However, he was the closest person she had at the moment, it had been so long since the last time she talked to someone without having to fake or hide emotions, that she just gave in.

“I miss her, a lot” she grimaced. Vulnerability was not something she was accustomed to show. “I don’t have the luxury of having other siblings, and even if I did, what I had with Amber was something unique. All the things that once bothered me about her, are the ones I now miss. I would give everything to hear her awful rap playlist that I absolutely loathe, or the loud and tiring parties she hosted despite knowing how uncomfortable I felt at them, and god I even miss her talking my ear off about that awful horror movie franchise she adored”.

“She sounds just like my brother” he sighed. “It’s nice that you had a nice relationship with her”.

“You weren’t close to Richie?” she asked.

Ethan shook his head “No. Our age difference, our different taste in things, we just never connected that much. And…”

“Yeah?” she encouraged him.

“I guess part of me has always resented him” he confessed, there was a trace of guiltiness in his statement.

“Can I ask why?” Y/N asked carefully.

“He was my dad’s golden boy. You know when kids asked their parents which child is their favourite and they say they love them all equally, even though it’s not true, as to not hurt their feelings?”

“Yes” she said unsure.

“Well, my dad wasn’t like that. He favoured Richie and admitted it proudly. And Quinn, being the only girl, also has a special place in his heart. His little girl, you know? And I am just there”

“Ethan…”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t love me, ‘cause I know he does, but Richie is gone, and I’m here and that disappoints him a bit” he had his eyes glued to the pavement, not daring to look her in the eyes. And Y/N wanted to throw up, cry and hug him at the same time. “Sorry. I overshared, right?” he tried to laugh it off.

“How long have you been bottling that up?” she asked softly.

“The resentment? My whole life. The thought of my father being disappointed I wasn’t the one who died? For a year” he replied.

The vulnerable environment encouraged her to grab his hand “Well, you can come to me whenever you want to, no matter how dark your thoughts are”.

Ethan smiled, and Y/N was in awe at how perfect his teeth were and how mesmerising his smile was “The same goes for you, Y/N/N”.

They continued their walk towards the dorms with the sound of the busy streets of New York resonating in their ears. None of them said a word until they reached Ethan’s apartment, which was the closest one. He had to let go of her hand—and regretting it instantly when he felt the warmth of her palm leaving his skin—, as he looked for his keys.

“Well, thank you for everything, Ethan. I’ll let you rest”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N/N” he gave her his dazzling smile once more before closing the door.

Y/N went to bed with the a good feeling on her chest. She finally was about to get the revenge she had desired and also, maybe, she had gained someone to talk to, a potential friend.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Blue Lock in Edo period

Wrote these with otomes in mind LOL

Sae Itoshi The daimyō with wonderful red kimono and golden embroidery visit your family restaurant and wants you to cook for him for the rest of your life, or until he gets tired of you. Sae takes you to his castle and you are so excited to work for such an important daimyō; maybe your family will have a wealthy but modest life from now on. Too bad Sae also wants you as a concubine. He really can't understand your surprise when after giving him his tea he pushed you toward the futon, wasn't his intention clear from the start? Maybe not, the headbutt you just gave him still stings; "arrogant bastard, I'll never fall for you". But is it real? Or you'll fall for that dastardly guy, grown a little too fast, that wants to travel the world, but still has many insecurities?  And will you be just one of his many concubines or something more will develop?

Rin Itoshi: The brother of the daimyō Sae Itoshi. Planning to get his revenge and take his brother's place. Can't suffer you from second one, just one of many concubines of his brother and another loss of time, he's sure of it. Then why he can't get you out of his mind? Why instead of warming his brother's bed you spend so much time with him? Your sweet words warm his body and make his heart beat faster and Rin can’t stand it; he has big plans, and he doesn’t have time for a silly crush. Not even when he notices you talking more with Sae and a green monster has his heart in a vice, dark emotions piling up. Will you be able to end his hatred and conquer Rin’s heart? Or you’ll be just one of his pawns?

Shidou Ryusei: The skilled ninja working under Sae, you meet because instead of using you as a cook the young daimyō found you clever enough to learn medicine and assist his best men in battle. Obviously, Shidou finds you so boring, that’s why he rather tease you endlessly to see your flustered expression while you patch him up.

“Wow you are so elastic Ryusei-sama! I suppose that years of training were really useful!”

“Yeah! That and breaking all my bones since I was a little child”

“W-What!? Are you kidding me, right?”

“…”

“Ryusei-sama! Don’t play with me!”

You are Shidou favorite toy and he can’t really let you go, meanwhile, your growing feelings for him make his teasing work even more! Will you be able to see behind the ever-smiling persona and discover his dark past? Or yours will remain just a playful banter?

Yoichi Isagi: Your childhood friend going down the path of the samurais. He always protected you and promised you he’ll always do. He works hard ‘till he becomes one of the best warriors under his lord Sae Itoshi, the same lord that now wants you all for himself. The last time you saw Yoichi he was just a small kid and now he is a young man, with brave eyes and a proud smile and Yoichi is smitten with you as much as you are with him. Too bad his lord doesn’t have nice intention and Yoichi knows he should be happy for his friend to go with such an honorable man like Sae, but Yoichi really can’t let you go with him, his crush of years ago resurfacing as strong as a waterfall. Will he always protect you from afar, or Yoichi will finally have you all for himself? Will he finally be able to pull you into his arms and kiss you silly with the sunset framing your faces like he always dreamt of?

Michael Kaiser: The eccentric merchant from an unknown land. You never know if he is trying to sell his merch or directly himself to you. You don’t know how his sellings can go that well, when he loses half of his time wooing you, but you have to admit that he must have some talent. Anyway, he talks too much

“Are all men from your land like you?”

“Do you mean handsome? Talented? Wonderful in the art of lovemak-“

“I meant annoying.”

“Oh. Well. No at any of those.”

Michael comes to your family restaurant as much as he can, flirting with you the entire time, always gifting you (and your relatives too! Damn buttlicker) fascinating objects from the various lands he visits. Will you fall for one of his many attempts? And will Michael be able to demonstrate that he is in fact as skilled as a merchant as he is in lovemaking?

Alexis Ness: The right-hand of his boss Michael Kaiser. His cute face attracts a lot of clients, both men and women and you fell for him like many others. Too bad he only has eyes for his boss and he thinks you have too. That’s how your rivalry starts, a rivalry that lives only in Alexis’ brain since you have zero to none interest in Michael. How can he not see that the sweets you made are exactly his favorite ones? Or that your eyes sparkle in that beautiful way only when you look at him? But what’s worse in Alexis’ mind is that he can’t think of his Michael as much as he used to, his mind is always full of ways to defeat you, and finally shout that he won and maybe kiss you, then pulling away the obi that tie your kimono and bed you and oh no; his mind is only filled with you after all. Will Alexis understand that it is not hatred the emotion that is eating him, but love? Or the impending war will destroy any chance you have?

[momojedi]

now idk if youve been requested smth like this before but tbb finds reader (whos another clone child like omega)?? thatd be cool, id think!! gn reader btw 🫶🫶 ALSO LOVE YOUR WRITING SM TY FOR WRITING THIS IF YOU DO

— FAMILY FOUND pairing. omega/clone force 99 x clone child! gn! reader

**

type. oneshot note. hi anon! thank you for your request, i'm incredibly happy to hear you like my writing! regarding your request, i hadn't thought of anything like that so far, but i love the idea - this is set during season one! the reader could technically be seen as disabled but i'll really leave that up to your interpretation. enjoy! warnings. needles, human experimentation, dehumanisation, sisterly omega fluff, big brother/dad batch, slight injury, potential reference to the blackwing virus, references to clone wars events word count. 2k

star wars masterlist || pinned post

Four hours.

That's how long you'd been running from the Empire and the claws of the Kaminoans, swiftly escaping the planet with the help of AZ-3. After a tearful farewell, the droid had tightly sealed the escape pod's hatch as well as your fate, leaving you to hold off the Kaminoans from tracking you as you fled Tipoca City, the place you once called your home.

When you landed on Ord Mantell, the sudden impact of the crash had swept you off your feet, chucking you to the floor with a loud bang. The intense pain that abruptly shot through your arm as well as the burning sensation that spread in your right cheek quickly lead you to realise that you needed to get a hold on some medical supplies as soon as possible.

"Where is it, where is it - kriff!"

Despite years of being reprimanded by Commander Colt not to curse and avoid the usage of bad words, you couldn't help but ignore your late brother's teachings when you sat back up on your knees after crawling out from under the pod's control panel. There wasn't a medkit in sight. You huffed, gripping your throbbing head with your healthy arm. "I must've hit my head," you whispered to yourself, squinting your eyes in pain. Slowly but surely some medical attention was starting to become really necessary, especially when you felt warm liquid dripping down your cheek.

You sat up. Perhaps you'd find some help in the inner city?

Ord Mantell was huge; bigger and much more crowded than Tipoca City you found yourself realising. Though, that view might've been influenced by the fact that, like most clone children, you'd never seen anything but Kamino throughout your entire life.

Time and time again had you sat among your brothers, listening intently to their adventurous tales fighting in the war and visiting various places throughout the galaxy. And although you felt bad for the loss and pain they went through day by day, you couldn't help but envy the wonderful worlds and systems they also had the chance to experience.

Unlike most clones, you hadn't been made to be a soldier but rather a subject to be tested on. Your entire purpose since you'd been born was to be a lab-rat, to endure tests and examinations in order to help the Kaminoans determine the breeding conditions of their next clones. You thought little of the Kaminoans, as most clones did. Their constant pricking of needles and blood letting made you feel sick and although you'd grown up on Kamino and were used to being dehumanised and seen as an object, a tool rather than a living being, you still hated the longnecks with a burning passion, silently enduring the torture they'd been putting you through. Naturally that also meant that you were made to suffer from various side effects of the experiments, such as age acceleration - or in your case, deceleration.

Unlike the usual clone, you aged slower, almost at the pace of a nat-born. You couldn't see very well due to visual tests they'd made for a special clone unit when you were very young and your hair was trimmed unevenly from being shaved off time and time again.

Naturally with that also came the judgement. Many of your brothers considered you a freak, curiously eyeing you and some times even mocking you. But even though there were many bad apples, you were proud to say that most of them had gladly taken you under their wing, partially having even grown up around you, and you couldn't be prouder of their accomplishments.

When the Empire took over and Admiral Tarkin arrived on Kamino, you swiftly developed a strong disdain for the imperial official and his scornful treatment of the clones. He frightened you with his skeletal appearance and judgemental expressions, scoffing at you when he'd first crossed you following a kaminoan scientist down the corridors of the city.

This disdain solidified when, from behind a window, you observed Tarkin handing obscure plans to Prime Minister Lama Su, signaling a clandestine exchange that left you feeling uneasy. Pressing your face against the glass to glean any insight, you overheard a conversation that sent shivers down your spine.

"I can assure you, CE-0003 will make a wonderful asset to project Blackwing—a low cost for such a risky intrusion; the potential loss won't be of any importance," Prime Minister Lama Su coldly stated, not bothering to acknowledge your presence. The mere mention of your designation number, CE-0003, served as a chilling reminder of the dehumanization endured by clones, but Tarkin's emphasis on "low cost" and "loss" struck an ominous chord, setting off alarm bells within your conscience.

Feeling the weight of an impending threat, you knew that the time had come to make a fateful decision. Unwilling to succumb to a potential death sentence or exploitation in the Empire's mysterious project, you resolved to escape Tipoca City. In the brightly lit corridors, your internal struggle reached a tipping point as you confronted the severity of your situation.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "Kamino is in the past," you mumbled to yourself, avoiding looking straight at the faces that passed by. After all, who knew whether someone had been sent after you or not? The Kaminoans were a very ambitious species and although Ord Mantell was filled with dubious figures, you could not let your guard down just yet.

Your head was starting grow dizzier by the minute and your world was starting to spin. you quickly managed to get a grip on some metal structure to keep you steady - or at least as steady as possible - when a voice caught your attention nearby.

"Oh ... can assist you in any way?"

Only now did you realise that the metal you'd gotten a strong hold on was, in fact, plastoid armour. Immediately you pulled your hand away, apologising profusely, though halfway slurring your words. You weren't even able to make out the stranger's face as the world spun around you and before you knew it, you passed out, barely hearing the stranger calling out another name.

"Echo, come here!"

"A - a clone?"

Hunter and Echo's eyes were settled on Tech, whose own goggled pair were glued to his datapad, as usual. "Precisely," he responded matter-of-factly, "It appears that they apart of a specialised cloning program founded specifically for scientific and medical experimentation."

"You're meaning to tell me the longnecks tortured this child for some bioweapons and drugs?" Echo's voice was angry, his face twisted into a furious grimace as he turned away from your unconscious form whilst holding the bacta-soaked cloth he'd previously been dabbing the gaping burn on your cheek with. Tech huffed, eyeing his brother over the edge of his datapad. "Yes Echo, that is exactly what I'm telling you."

"Unbelievable," Echo scoffed, fist tightening around the cloth, "and to think we once fought alongside those monsters." With a deep sigh, Hunter pushed past his bickering brothers to look over your sleeping form. By now, they had made sure to patch up your broken arm and clean any leftover bruises, settling you down on one of the parlour’s benches. It didn't look necessarily comfortable but seeing as Cid had business to attend to, it was all they could come up with so far - Tech had even dug out Wrecker's civil poncho in the Marauder which you now were cozily wrapped in.

Hunter gingerly brushed the loose hair strands out of your face, watching you with softening eyes as he took over cleaning your bruising face. A small smile tugged on his lips at the sight of your peaceful expression. How would Omega react to you?

As if on cue, the loud chitter-chatter of Wrecker and their little sister erupted in the stairway of Cid's bar, turning the heads of the rest of the batch. Omega squealed excitedly when the giant clone set her down, running toward Hunter with a box of Mantell Mix in her hands.

"Hunter, look!" She chirped, holding out the sugary treat for the sergeant to see, "The nice lady added new toppings and - [name]?"

Her eyes fell upon you and suddenly, she forgot the world around her. Hunter raised a brow before exchanging a questioning look with Echo, who had quietly observed the interaction. Was that your name? How did she know you? Taking the box out of her hands and setting it on the table, the clone sergeant took Omega aside, kneeling to be at her eye level.

"Omega, do you know this child?"

With a worried expression at the sight of your wounds, she hesitated before nodding slowly. "Their name is [name]," her voice was hoarse as she kept an eye on you, "we both assisted the scientists in the medbay, back on Kamino ... they'd often do those weird tests on them, to the point they wouldn't show up for days afterwards." Hunter's blood boiled at the thought of the painful abuse you must've had to endure but he stayed composed. He had to focus on the task at hand after all.

"Are - are they okay?" Omega's eyes were wide as she glanced back at him. "They're alright so far," he slowly stood up, crossing his arms over his chest, "We took good care of their injuries. Tech and Echo found them earlier - they suspect they may have crashed nearby. Should that be the case, they can consider themselves lucky."

The light sound of a confused groan caught Hunter off-guard as he turned to look at you. "Well, look who's up."

You had squinted as your world had grown clearer with every passing second after you woke up, still trying to make out what was going on around you - until you had noticed the five figures standing in front of you. And then the panic set in. Had the Kaminoans already sent out people after you?

"Please don't bring me back," you had sniffled, hot tears already rolling down your cheeks, "I don't want to go back!" It had only been when a familiar girl had approached you with raised hands that you slowly but surely had started to calm down. "Omega?"

As it turns out, the men you had feared to be mercenaries were in fact the infamous Clone Force 99 that had gone rogue and deserted the Empire a few weeks before you escaped. Although you'd heard talk of them plenty of times from your brothers and the scientists, you had never met nor seen them in person as they were usually out on missions and only ever briefly stayed on Kamino. When Omega had left with them, you were heartbroken to see your sister go - most of your time was spent alongside her, after all.

By now, Cid, the Trandoshan woman the bar belonged to, had returned and to the Batch's apparent surprise, quickly took a liking to you; that or she at least pitied you enough to slide in a hot meal and grant you some company as she sat down with you and grunted every now and then while looking over her datapad. Either way, you weren't going to question it and simply enjoyed having the chance to fill your stomach after what felt like forever.

"So, how's AZ?" Omega had managed to squeeze in between you and Cid, eyes fixed on you. "He's okay," you mumbled between bites, "He helped me out a lot when I ... well ..." You frowned as you remembered your escape, setting down the spoon. Although you had fled with good reasons, you couldn't help but miss the place you had once called your home. Fortunately, Omega quickly caught on as she settled a hand on your shoulder with a warm smile.

"I know what it's like," her voice was firm and encouraging when she looked over her shoulder the other side of the bar, where the tall clone you'd earlier found out to be called Wrecker roared in frustration at one of the arcade games set up in the bar while the other, Tech, tried his best at explaining it to him. Echo, the one with the scomp arm, watched and shook his head with a sigh and the leader, Hunter, chuckled while playing with the vibroblade in his hand.

"Our brothers ... they know what they're doing. We keep each other safe," Omega then grabbed your hand tightly and grinned, "And as long as we're here, we'll keep you safe, too."

if you're interested in being tagged for my future works, let me know in my comments or by sending me an ask!

@patapouille @flyiingsly

[naeleys]

AN HEIR FOR A HEIR

note. firstborn daughter!velaryon x twin brother!jacaerys velaryon

warning. death, targaryen incest, jace and his attitude/anger issues, meantion of deaths, poison

The news of Jaehaerys's death had just been announced at the Great Council, and Jacaera was visibly distraught. She mourned not only for her dear friend, her aunt, who had lost her baby—an innocent child—but also for the way the common folk of King’s Landing were blaming her mother. They paraded Jahaerys’s lifeless body and accused Rhaenyra of being responsible.

Jacaera could see that Jacaerys, her husband, was equally troubled. He held Helaena in high regard and felt deeply that she did not deserve such a fate.

“Having lost my own son,” her mother said, her voice faltering and eyes welling with tears.“That I would inflict such thing, on Helaena! Of all people, an innocent!”

Jacaera no longer heard the ongoing conversation; her thoughts had drifted elsewhere, fixated on Helaena.

What could Helaena be feeling right now? And what about Jaehaera? The poor girl must be confused, grappling with the absence of her twin brother.

Did Helaena harbor resentment towards her now, believing that Team Black was responsible for her son’s death? The grief and anguish Helaena must be awful, having witnessed her child’s death—it was unimaginable.

A vision of her own daughter, Rhaenya, came to her mind. Her firstborn, her sweet, innocent girl. What if it were Rhaenya who had suffered such a loss?

The mere thought made her shudder. The pain of losing her daughter would be unbearable—she would burn the world to save her.

Jacaera struggled to hold back her tears, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame despite knowing that neither she nor her mother were responsible. The worst part was her helplessness; she couldn't rescue Helaena and her children, Jaehaera and Maelor, from the clutches of the ruthless Greens and their greed.

“My love,” Jacaerys whispered in her ear, pulling her from her troubling thoughts. He noticed the sadness on her face and felt a surge of concern.

“The council has ended,” he said gently. Jacaera turned to see the others slowly leaving the room. Her mother and Daemon were heading in a different direction, and she could see her mother’s angry expression.

From Jacaerys’s worried look, it was clear that Daemon was in trouble once more. There was also the unsettling suspicion that Daemon might have been involved in Jaehaerys's assassination.

As they walked through the halls of Dragonstone, Jacaerys escorted Jacaera back to their chambers, which were not far from mother’s and their daughter Rhaenya’s rooms.

From behind a closed door, they could hear Daemon’s voice raised in agitation. “It was a mistake!”

Jacaera, who disliked arguments and conflicts, stared at the door with concern. She hoped fervently that the situation would not escalate into a fight. Her worry was compounded by her mother’s presence; Daemon’s wild and brutal nature, especially when enraged, made her anxious.

“Come on, our girl is waiting for us,” Jacaerys said, gently guiding Jacaera by the arm.

As they entered their chambers, they were greeted by their three-year-old daughter, Rhaenya, sitting on the floor with her baby dragon beside her. One of the maids watched the dragon with a wary expression.

“Kepa!” Rhaenya squealed, and her father quickly stepped into her view. Jacaera watched them with a tender smile.

“Muña!” Rhaenya responded, reaching out for her mother.

“Rytsas doña riña…” Jacaera cooed to her giggling daughter, though she felt a disconcerting gaze from the maid. The look unsettled her, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. [Hello, sweet girl…]

“Have you been good?” Jacaerys asked, while Jacaera took a seat at the study table.

The uneasy maid approached Jacaera, placing a goblet of water on the table for her. Jacaera had always felt uneasy around this particular maid, even since her father, Ser Laenor, was still alive. The maid had a habit of watching every movement in the castle, which made Jacaera feel unsettled. Despite this, she chose to dismiss her concerns, convincing herself that the maid was merely attentive and observant.

When Jacaerys left the room to train with the other knights and Baela, Jacaera resumed her embroidery, focused on the dress she was making for Rhaenya.

“Thirsty, muña,” Rhaenya said.

With a smile, Jacaera picked up the goblet of water and helped her daughter drink. Rhaenya gulped almost all of it, and Jacaera chuckled at her thirst. Afterward, Rhaenya skipped back to her toys, leaving Jacaera to continue her work.

As Jacaera hummed quietly, the only sounds in the room were the voices of the maids and her daughter’s play. Suddenly, a collective gasp broke the calm. Alarmed, Jacaera looked up and saw Rhaenya lying on the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

One of the older maids rushed to the young princess, crying out in concern. “Princess!”

Panic-stricken, Jacaera sprang to her feet and dashed toward her daughter.

“My girl!” Jacaera gasped, clutching Rhaenya's small body and pulling her close. The sight was horrifying: her daughter's face was turning deep purple, her eyes wide and bloodshot, slowly reddening. Blood began to trickle from her nose. “Oh my God! No, no, what is happening?!”

The maid who had brought the goblet of water bolted from the room, shouting for help and alerting the servants, lords, and knights.

Panicking, Jacaera shook her daughter, her mind clouded with fear and confusion. She had no idea what was happening to Rhaenya or what she should do.

Outside the chamber, the sounds of grunts and shouting suggested a commotion, perhaps a fight.

“Rhaenya, sweetheart! Look at Mama!” Jacaera cried, holding her daughter tightly. Her horror intensified as she saw Rhaenya’s eyes starting to roll back. “Call the maesters! Find my husband!” she ordered one of the maids, who hesitated for a moment but eventually complied, leaving the room despite the chaos.

Everything happened in a blur as the maesters and Jacaerys burst into the room, their faces etched with panic.

“What is happening to her?!” Jacaerys yelled, dropping to his knees beside Jacaera.

“I don’t know,” Jacaera sobbed. “She just started shaking.”

One of the maesters examined the goblet of water and announced, “Someone has poisoned the princess’s water.” The maesters began to sniff at the goblet, confirming their suspicions.

“What?!” Jacaerys roared, storming towards them in fury.

Jacaera heart sank further at the realization.

“Who did this?!” Jacaerys demanded, glaring at everyone, particularly the maids. Jacaera continued to cry, flinching at Jacaerys’s angry outburst, while the maesters worked frantically to help Rhaenya, whose eyes were now a deep, alarming red.

“It w-was Anna, m-my prince,” one maid whispered, cowering behind the others who looked down in shame. “W-we saw her give the water to Princess Jacaera.”

Jacaerys stared at them, his eyes welling with tears of anger and betrayal. Anna—Jacaera had always found her unsettling, but he had reassured her that it was just her nature. The revelation cut deeply, and he felt a surge of rage and heartbreak.

Jacaerys’s anger flared uncontrollably as he saw Anna’s treachery. He should have listened to Jacaera’s concerns about the maid. In a fit of rage, he hurled the goblet against the wall, shattering it with a loud crash. The sound startled everyone in the room, except for Jacaera, whose world was spinning around her distressed daughter. Rhaenya’s body was growing limp in her arms.

Unbeknownst to Jacaerys, his mother was entering the room at that very moment. The queen recoiled in shock at her son’s outburst. She had just survived an attack by Ser Arryk and witnessed a fierce fight between him and his twin brother, Ser Erryk. Still shaken from the earlier chaos, she was further startled when a guard rushed to inform her of the crisis involving her granddaughter. Baela and Rhaena followed closely behind her.

“What is going on here?” the queen asked, her voice trembling as she scanned the chaotic room. Her gaze landed on her daughter, Jacaera, sobbing on the floor while clutching her granddaughter Rhaenya.

“It’s strangler poison, Your Grace,” the maester announced, eliciting a collective gasp of horror. Jacaerys turned away, staring blankly at the wall beside him, unable to face the sight of his dying daughter and his heartbroken wife.

“It’s an extremely rare and deadly poison,” the maester continued. “It causes an inability to breathe.”

Rhaenyra’s face went pale as she listened, collapsing to the floor beside her daughter. The weight of recent tragedies—Lucerys’s death, Jahaerys’s death, and now this—was too much for her to bear.

Overwhelmed, she felt her strength wane and tears began to stream down her face. Although she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the maester, the heartbreaking cries of her twins filled the room. Rhaenyra’s heart felt like it was shattering into pieces.

Rhaenyra’s gaze fell slowly to the lifeless eyes of her granddaughter, Rhaenya, staring back at her. The overwhelming grief, sadness, and anger made her feel nauseous.

“She’s gone,” another maester announced, his fingers checking Rhaenya’s pulse. “Her heart has stopped beating.”

At these words, Rhaenyra choked back a sob. Both Jacaera and Jacaerys broke down in anguish, their despair echoing through the room.

The onlookers could only watch in sorrow as the family’s grief unfolded. Baela, overwhelmed by the scene, excused herself and left the room, unable to bear the intensity of the moment. Meanwhile, Rhaena remained by the door, silently crying as she observed the tragic scene.

Jacaerys approached his family, and Rhaenyra enveloped both Jacaera and Jacaerys in a tight embrace. All three were a tangled of tears and despair.

Even though Jacaera and Jacaerys were not Rhaena’s siblings by blood, she had grown up with them and deeply loved and cared for them. Seeing them in such pain broke her heart. She knew the sting of losing loved ones all too well, having experienced it twice herself.

Rhaenya was dear to her as well. She had often stepped in to help care for her niece when Jacaera and Jacaerys needed a break or were otherwise occupied. The little girl was bright and sweet, and Rhaena couldn’t comprehend how the world could be so cruel as to take away such an innocent soul, just as it had taken Jaehaerys.

< continue >

[hayleythecannibal]

TWISTED MINDS: Act II- Chapter Twenty-Six Mizumono

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Guns, Animal Death, Mental Heath, Pregnancy, tragic loss

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY-

Find HANNIBAL smiling as he works on the card. An invitation card. For Jack Crawford. To dinner at Hannibal's house. Hannibal finishes the beautifully-drawn card and looks down upon it.

BAU - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY-

The invitation sits on Jack's desk. MOVE UP from it to reveal JACK and Will. “Hannibal's invited me to dinner.” Will doesn't answer. Holds Jack's gaze. We are now in his office. He sits opposite Will.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT-

“You sit in that chair, as you have so many times before. It holds among its molecules the vibrations of all our conversations ever held in its presence.”

“All the exchanges, the petty irritations, deadly revelations, the flat announcements of disaster.”

“The grunts and poetry of life. It's all still there. Everything we've said. Listen. What do you hear?”

“A melody.”

“We are orchestrations of carbon. You, Y/N and me and that chair.” “And Jack.”

“And Jack. All of our destinies flying and swimming in blood and emptiness.” He smiles.

BAU - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY-

“Everybody's settling in for dinner.”

“I'll be wearing a wire. I'll have riflemen on rooftops of neighboring houses. Sight lines to all windows.”

“He'll try to kill you in the kitchen, for convenience. Make it easier to prepare the tartare.” Jack stares at Will a moment, "digesting" that. Then: “SWAT team will be on the ground for immediate access to the kitchen, dining room and front door. Can I convince you to wear a vest?”

“He would smell it. Besides, he's not going to shoot either one of us, Jack. He'll cut us.”

GRAHAM/BAILIE HOUSE - NIGHT-

Will walking toward his house which houses the person he calls home. The lights burning, warm and homey.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT-

“Little did Agent Crawford know what waited for him when he stepped into my office that very first time. How seldom we recognize the sound when the bolt of fate slides home.”

“Jack won't be easy to kill. He'll be armed. He's strong, well trained. We can't hesitate.”

“Hesitation is a consequence of indecision or uncertainty. I'm not suffering from either. Are you?”

GRAHAM/BAILIE HOUSE - NIGHT-

Y/N enters the room with her heart in hand. Her heart racing. with everything that has happened and that will happen. it feels right to tell Will about our little love. the seed he planted is flowering into something beautiful.

As she walks into the living room. Y/N sees the man she's fallen so deeply in love with. She can't help but think about how handsome and strong he is. His muscles and hair are so inviting to her. Will Graham sits down and looks at his beautiful love. "I made you some Coffee." She said. "Thank you, Honey."

"There is something I want to talk to you about."

"Yes, my love?"

"Well, you know how I haven't been feeling well lately." "Yes."

"And we both wanted a child." "Yes." I take a deep breath. "Well, I took a test. and It turns out that I'm pregnant." Will was stunned. He looked at me with tears of joy forming in his eyes. "We're going to be parents?"

"Yes." He gets up from his chair and goes over to me and kisses me passionately. I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around him. After a minute we break the kiss and stare into each other's eyes.

BAU - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY-

“Hannibal thinks you're his man in the room. I think you're mine.” Will does not respond.

HANNIBAL as he studies Will.

“When the fox hears the rabbit scream, he comes a-runnin', but not to help. When you hear Jack scream, why will you come running?”

“When the time comes…” “When the time comes…”

“...will you do what needs to be done?” “...will you do what needs to be done?” Each one want a different thing. But all he wants is to keep the woman he loves and the child she carries safe. “Oh, yes.”

GRAHAM/BAILIE HOUSE - NIGHT-

Will walks up to the porch and reacts as if he's about to greet an old acquaintance. And he is. He climbs the steps. The front door swings open revealing Will standing just outside. His DOGS surround the door, not to greet their master, but instead, they BARK and GROWL at him!

Will backs away from his front door as it reveals GARRET JACOB HOBBS standing on the porch, haloed by the porch light, the only warmth in a monochromatic night. “Shhhh.” The VICIOUS BARKING and GROWLING of dogs abruptly fades away. Will looks down -- a HUNTING RIFLE now in his hands. Hobbs moves to the railing of the porch and Will follows him.

Will's house now sits high in a TREE overlooking a FIELD OF SKELETAL TREES resembling ANTLERS. A DEER BLIND. until it reveals the BLACK STAG slowly making its way directly in front of their sights. Garret Jacob Hobbs indicates for Will to look out beyond the porch. He smiles at Will. “See?” Will looks the direction Garret Jacob Hobbs is indicating and raises his rifle, looking through the scope.

FBI - FREDDIE LOUNDS'S DORM ROOM - DAY-

Will Graham and Freddie Lounds. “The correspondents of those august journals who always looked down on me can eat their hearts out. Nothing sells better than a survival story.”

“I wouldn't count us as survivors just yet, Freddie.”

“I'm counting me as a survivor. I started as a cancer editor at a supermarket tabloid. "New Cure for Cancer." "Cancer Miracle Cure."”

“Cancer is very-lucrative media.”

“One in five Americans dies of it. The relatives of all those dying, worn out, prayed out, trying to fight raging carcinoma masses, are desperate for anything hopeful.”

“We're all desperate for a little hope. I want you to do something for me, Freddie, or rather, don't. Don't write about Abigail or Y/N. You can write about me, you can write about Hannibal. But leave Abigail and Y/N alone.” Freddie considers the odd request, studying Will, then: “You really don't know if you're going to survive him, do you?”

“Let her rest in peace. And My family live quietly.”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT-

Hannibal smiles down from the second-floor landing. He turns and continues pulling out patient journals. Surrounded by stacks of the journals, Will peruses the one in his hand. He continues to study the patient journal as he crosses to the burning fire. One more moment of consideration, then he tosses it on the licking flames, which wrap around it.

It roasts on the fire, the ENCEPHALITIS CLOCK devoured by flame, leaving CURLING BLACKENED ASH. “Won't your patients need these after you're gone?” Hannibal approaches Will by the fireplace, a handful of leather-bound patient journals in his arms. “The FBI will pore over my notes if I left them intact. I would spare my patients that scrutiny.”

“That's very considerate.”

“I'm dismantling who I was and moving it brick by brick. ive gone from this life, Jack Crawford and the FBI behind us, I will always have this place.”

“In your "memory palace"?”

“My palace is vast, even by medieval standards. The foyer is the Norman chapel in Palermo, severe and beautiful and timeless, with a single reminder of mortality: a skull graven in the floor.”

“All I need is a stream. Or Y/N’s Heartbeat.”

“In those moments, when you can't overcome your surroundings, you can make it all go away.”

“Put my head back, close my eyes, wade into the quiet of the stream.”

“If I'm ever apprehended, my memory palace will serve as more than amnemonic system, I will live there.” Will studies Hannibal a moment, considering his future: “Could you be happy there?” Hannibal reflects on the question, uncertain, but smiles.

“All the palace chambers are not lovely, light and high. In the vaults of our hearts and brains, danger waits. There are holes in the floor of the mind.” As Will turns to pick up more files, Hannibal leans toward him. Hannibal's nostrils FLARE as he inhales.

BAU - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY-

Y/N listens as Alana confesses: “I feel poisoned.” I sigh softly. “We've all been poisoned.”

“Even my memories are suspect. I keep compulsively poring over every moment I've spent with him, struggling to separate the man I know from the man you know.”

“Will doesnt pretend to know him. He just understands him.”

“He saw what no one else could.”

“All it took was the traumatic.”

“Most of the literature on coping with the traumatic focuses on how people deal with the aftermath. We're still in the thick of it.”

“Almost through the worst of it.” I sigh, No matter the end of this, it wont be the end. I’ll still lose someone. Maybe even myself. “How will you get through the rest?” I consider that, then avert My weary eyes. “You'll have to ask Jack.”

“I'm asking you. Jack and Will set some sort of trap and Their goading Hannibal into it.” I look at Alana, his silence an admission. Her eyes begin to well with tears, sad about being left outside to watch some horrible unraveling of events like a bystander. “How can you be sure he's not goading Will?”

“I can't.” I sigh with worry, Cradling my belly. Alana sighs, fearing the worst.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-

a standing pair of RACKS OF LAMB, INTERLACED RIBS, like the hands of prayer or a church's

steeple, to find Hannibal sitting at the head of his table, considering his reflection in the rippling red wine. “Do you know what an imago is, Will?” reveals Will by his side. “It's pulled apart, warmth erupting, extending like wings.”

“It's a flying insect.”

“It's the final stage of a transformation…Maturity.”

“When you become who you will be.”

“It's also a term from the dead religion of psychoanalysis. An imago is an image of a loved oneburied in the unconscious, carried with us all our lives.”

“An ideal.”

“The concept of an ideal always searching for an objective reality to match. I have a concept of you just as you have a concept of me.” Will takes a drink.

“Neither of us ideal.” Hannibal considers that; there was a brief moment that he believed the ideal before he smelled betrayal. Question is….is he the only one that has betrayed him? “We are both too curious about too many things for any ideals. Is it ideal that Jack die?” Will hesitates almost imperceptibly. “It's necessary. What happens to Jack has been preordained.”

“We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs. Take Y/N. Leave a note for Dr. Bloom, never see her or Jack Crawford again. Almost polite.” Hannibal Smiles at the Thought. A family within the madness of their fantasy. “That'd make this our last supper.” “Of this life. I am serving lamb.”

“Sacrificial? Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”

“I freely claim my sin. I don't need a sacrifice. Do you?”

“I need him to know. If I confessed to Jack Crawford now, you think he would forgive me?”

“I would forgive you. If Jack were to tell you all is forgiven, Will, would you accept his forgiveness?”

“Jack isn't offering forgiveness. He wants justice. He wants to see you. See who you are. See who I've become. Know the truth.” Hannibal takes the moment in, thoughtful, raises a glass: “To the truth, then. And all its consequences.” Hannibal says, tears threatening to brim in his eyes.

FBI ACADEMY - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY-

A group of FBI TACTICAL AGENTS and FORENSICS TECHS are gathered as Jack Crawford is pointing to MARKED SNIPER LOCATIONS on a satellite picture of Hannibal Lecter's neighborhood. BRIAN ZELLER and JIMMY PRICE are to one side. Kade Prurnell has entered with Alana Bloom following a few steps behind.

Jack sees Alana and Kade standing together, sighs, then: “Gentlemen, would you excuse us.” The team gets up and heads out. Zeller and Price at the back. “Not you two. Stay right there.” Zeller and Price stay. After the tactical agents have exited: “Boy, you know how to go out with a bang. This is entrapment, Jack.”

“You can't entrap someone into committing premeditated murder.”

“Yes, you can. You're doing it.” to Zeller and Price “Either of you fabricate evidence?” Zeller is genuinely unsure, “Define "fabricate."”

“Are you asking if we built something or just lied?” ignoring them; to Jack “You conspired to violate Dr. Lecter's property and personal rights. The only one involved in this investigation we can confirm has killed someone is Will Graham. And How do we Know that Dr. L/N isnt involved in any of this?”

“It was self-defense. And Y/N is expecting and has only ever been helpful, and at most times the voice of reason during cases. Me and Will wouldnt put her life and her unborn childs life at risk.”

“You're using yourself as bait.”

“I'm the best bait we have.” Kade takes a breath, focuses. “Hannibal Lecter is being induced to commit murder by an undercover FBI informant. This is outrageous government conduct. Do you realize who will be held responsible?”

“Hannibal will be held responsible.”

“You would never get a conviction.” Jack scoffs and crosses his arms.

“If Hannibal is who we believe him to be, you would've just handed him his Get Out of Jail Free card.”

“You should thank Dr. Bloom. She just saved us all a lot of trouble.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bloom.” Alana holds his gaze. “You're not thinking clearly, Jack.”

“We are as close as we will ever be.”

“You're distracted. I understand your wife is very ill. Pending an enquiry, I'm putting you on forced compassionate leave. Agents will be waiting in your office to relieve you of your badge and gun.”

BAU - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY-

Jack stands behind the desk. TWO AGENTS wait to escort him out. Kade Prurnell watches the process. All plays MOS. Jack holds her gaze for a second and then walks out, the agents in close attendance behind him.

JACK CRAWFORD'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - LATE AFTERNOON-

Bella, her hands lie across her chest. The room is silent, motes of dust drift through the dimming light of the dying day. Night is coming. Bella's breathing RISES and FALLS...Jack sits in a chair, watching his wife sleep. Rise... Fall… Bella misses a breath. Jack studies her more closely. Bella breathes again, a flutter, and then a full breath. Jack rises and stands over his wife, takes her hand. She doesn't stir, breath continuing to rise and fall. Jack watching Bella sleep...

BAU - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY-

Kade Prurnell sits behind Jack's desk, going through RANDALL TIER CRIME SCENE PICTURES, SATELLITE PHOTOS of Hannibal's house and various paperwork. She's boggled by it all. Alana Bloom enters the office. Kade looks up from the various pieces of evidence, noticing Alana. “This is staggering.” Alana approaches the desk, thoughtful. “What are you going to do about Hannibal Lecter?”

“What Jack should have done. We froze his passport and we're getting a search warrant.”

“Hannibal already opened his doors to the FBI. There won't be physical evidence. The only way to catch him is in the act.”

“You think we should've just let Jack Crawford hang himself and everyone else in his department.”

“No, but Will and Jack are still your best chance to catch Hannibal.” Kade references the Randall Tier crime scene photos. “The man Will Graham killed in self defense? He was mutilated. Limbs removed. Head severed at the jaw. At a certain point, self-defense stops. Will Graham didn't stop.” Kade tosses the crime scene photos back on the pile. “Jack Crawford sanctioned this. And then he covered it up.”

“I have to believe Will was trying to maintain his cover identity.”

“Reality doesn't go away if you stop believing in it, Dr. Bloom. It's stubborn like that. The reality of this situation is Jack Crawford was misusing the power of his office.”

“They're desperate.”

“They are breaking the law. This is criminal conduct. I have to bring charges against these men.”

“They're not going to stop.”

“That's why they're being brought into custody.”

“Jack knows what you'll find, he knows what you have to do. You have to know that won't stop him from doing what he has to do”

ALANA BLOOM'S CAR - NIGHT-

Alana sits in her car. Pondering what to do. Debating her actions. She pulls out her cell phone --

GRAHAM/BAILIE HOUSE - NIGHT-

The telephone RINGS and Will picks it up. “Hello.”

“It's Alana. Is Jack with you?”

“No. Why?”

“I... I wanted to find some middle ground between believing the world is perfectly safe and terribly dangerous. I was trying to…” Her voice trails off, overwhelmed with emotion. “What did you do?”

“They've issued a warrant for your arrest, Will. For acting as an accessory to entrapment and the murder of Randall Tier. They're going to arrest Jack, too.” LIGHTS and the CRUNCH of gravel draw Will to the window. Two FBI SUVs are pulling into Their driveway. “Good-bye, Alana.”

“Will?” He hangs up. Grabs his coat and gun. “Y/N! Honey we have to Go!”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT-

Hannibal Looks up as Jack Crawford enters. Hannibal smiles. “Hello, Jack. You're early.” Hannibal never stops chopping. It slices down on the meat. ALL SOUND IS DULLED. What we can hear is the RHYTHMIC BREATHING and HEARTBEAT of Hannibal against the ORGANIC HUM of his CIRCULATORY SYSTEM.

Hannibal turns the block of knives in front of him so the handles are now facing Jack, should he want one. The light reflecting off of his kitchen knife dances briefly across his face. “Would you care to sous-chef?” Jack glances at the knives. “I want to thank you for your friendship, Hannibal.”

“The most-beautiful quality of a true friend is to understand and be understood with absolute clarity.”

“Then this is the truest moment of our friendship.” Jack’s hand drifts toward his coat, brushing his thumb across the fasten of his sidearm holster. Hannibal THROWING HIS KITCHEN KNIFE AT JACK.

Jack Crawford dives out of the way as he draws his gun from his holster and SHLUCK... Hannibal’s KNIFE MOVES THROUGH Jack’s hand at the wrist, his gun clatters to the floor. Hannibal vaults over the kitchen counter as Jack pulls the knife out of his wrist, swinging it immediately. The blade whisks through the air, narrowly missing Hannibal.

He yanks another knife from the cutting board and swings it in a deadly arc. Jack jackknifes his torso to avoid the blade, slashing back at Hannibal with quick swipes. Hannibal deflects Jack’s knife with his own and they dodge, parry and block each other’s blades.

Jack thrusts and slices into Hannibal’s waist, who twists around the knife, knocking it from Jack’s grip. Hannibal lunges his knife at Jack’s belly, meaning to gut him. Jack blocks the knife with a cutting board and then smashes the cutting board into the side of Hannibal’s head, knocking him off balance, but not quite down.

He grabs Hannibal and bodily swings him crashing into the cupboards. Hannibal throws his weight back at Jack, driving him across the kitchen, but not far. Jack is solid. Jack maneuvers his arms around Hannibal’s throat and begins to squeeze a chokehold. Hannibal writhes and kicks, trying to throw Jack off balance, but to no avail.

His eyelids flutter and pinch as he tries to focus and remain conscious. His body goes limp and he slumps in Jack’s arms... just enough for his shoulder to drop and allow his hand to reach a SHARD OF GLASS on the floor.

Hannibal plunges the SHARD OF GLASS into Jack’s neck. He recoils and stumbles back, clutching his neck. Hannibal acts quickly, picking up a butcher knife and turning on Jack. Still clutching his neck, Jack stumbles back into...

Jack falls inside, kicking the door closed on the advancing Hannibal. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. Hannibal throws his shoulder into the pantry door, Jack’s foot braced against it. SLAM. He throws his shoulder into a braced door. Jack holds his neck wound with one hand as he fumbles for his phone with the other. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. The door splinters. The terrible focus of a predatory animal.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

Alana approaches the front door, hesitating on the walkway. She stops, debating if she should stay or go and what the hell she was doing there in the first place. The RAIN is loud, drowning out all else in the night. She turns and starts to walk away, then stops and turns around again. This time, right up to the door.

Which is slightly ajar. Alana pushes the door open ever so slightly and listens. Straining against the rain outside... then begins to identify the SOUNDS OF STRUGGLE and a SUSTAINED SHOUT from Jack. Alana goes pale, pulls out her phone, dials. She holds the phone with one hand and digs through her bag with the other.

“911. Please state the nature of your emergency.” Alana fishes her gun out of her bag. “I'd like to report gunshots.” Gun drawn, Alana pushes the door open. She hears somethingWUMPF with a RATTLE, followed by a series of SLAM-SLAM-SLAM. “Jack?”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

Alana wades through the darkness, toward the slidingdouble doors of the dining room, open not even an inch. CUT RIGHT DOWN THE MIDDLE by a single SLIVER OF LIGHT, the room falling into darkness around her, gun at the ready.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT-

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. The door finally splinters under Hannibal's force. Alana Bloom in the doorway. “Hannibal…” then clearer “Hannibal.” Hannibal stops, turns to see Alana. “Hello, Alana.”

She looks around the broken, bloody room, mounting horror. Hannibal sighs, truly disappointed to see her here. “What a terrible and wonderful thing it is to see you.”

“Where's Jack?”

“In the pantry.” The moment of truth. “I was hoping you and I wouldn't have to say good-bye. I imagined a farewell less sorrowful, less present, an echo. Nothing said nor seen. You may've thought that rude.” He takes a step toward her, her finger tensing on the gun.

“Stop.” He does. “I was so blind.”

“In your defense, I worked very hard to blind you. You can stay blind. You can hide from this. Walk away. I'll make no plans to call on you. But if you stay, I will kill you. Be blind, Alana. Don't be brave.” She pulls the trigger. And the gun CLICKS. She pulls it again and another CLICK. “I took your bullets.” CLICK. CLICK. Alana stares. Frozen. As huge simple terror washes over her. Alana RUNS. Hannibal takes a breath, then gives reluctant pursuit.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - ENTRANCE HALL/STAIRWAY - NIGHT-

Alana runs through the hallway and starts up a large staircase. down the stairs as Hannibal comes charging behind her. Alana speeds up. But he is faster... As they round a bend in the stairs, he grabs for her. His hand clutches at her ankle. Grasps her shoe. Alana slips, kicks her foot from her shoe and scrabbles on her knees.

KICKS Hannibal hard with the other heel, catching his face and rocking him back. Hannibal smiles. Takes his time now as he follows her. ANGLE DOWN THE STAIRCASE as Alana runs toward us, Hannibal slowly stalking behind.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT-

Alana comes up the stairs, into the hallway. She makes for a bedroom door.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT-

Alana BURSTS into the dark bedroom and SLAMS the door closed. Turns the key in the lock. Stares at the door. HEART SLAMMING. CIRCULATORY SYSTEM pounding in her ears. She GASPS for breath. She is lit only by MOONLIGHT creeping through the window. Alana thinks quickly. Pulls the spare clip from her bag and ejects the empty one from her gun.

Alana SLAMS the clip into the gun and draws the slide and FIRES TWICE into the door. BANG. BANG. TWO BEAMS OF LIGHT pierce the gloom and hit Alana like laser beams.

“I found more bullets.” A SHADOW moves outside the door, blocking the beams of light for a second, and Alana fires again, making a third.

ALANA -- in profile -- breathing hard, facing the door. Lit by the orange beams of light. Gun at the ready. Aiming down the barrel, just as she was taught. Standoff. And then a figure -- indistinct -- steps from the shadows beside her. Ghostly, long-haired, ethereal...

Alana senses her presence and turns. She instinctively turns the gun to Abigail. Then lowers it. ALANA as so many things register. “Abigail…” Abigail fights tears, on the edge. “I'm so sorry…” And she suddenly SHOVES Alana, propels her backward and PUSHES Alana OUT OF THE WINDOW.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

The front of the house, viewed from the street. HEAVY RAIN FALLING. Lights burning golden yellow.

Beyond that PLANE OF FOCUS, a blur of violence inside as Alana comes through the bedroom window, SHATTERING GLASS and SPLINTERING WOOD. Alana continues to sail through the rain, accompanied by a cloud of shattered glass.

Over this, a series of single notes, played on a harpsichord, an incongruous, pretty sound, its pace somehow suiting Alana's beautiful-yet-terrible descent… Alana hits the cement outside with a sickening THWACK and a SHOWER OF BROKEN GLASS She lies broken and unmoving, pelted by rain, staring into middle distance, not breathing.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

Will and Y/N run to the corner and Hannibal's house. Guns drawn. He slows as he sees Jack's and Alana's cars outside. And then they see Alana Bloom! Will rushes to her. Drops to his knees. Until... she takes a deep breath, having had the wind knocked out of her from the fall. She tries to speak, urgent and desperate -- blood bubbles over her lips.

“Don't talk. Just breathe…” He pulls off his jacket, rolls it up and places it gently around her head. Y/N pulls her phone from her pocket. Dials. Alana grasps his hand tight. Smearing her blood on him. Will looks around, anguished. The call connects:

“This is Dr. Y/N L/N. I need ERT at Hannibal Lecter's residence.” Y/N holds Alana's gaze. ‘Jack's inside…’

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - CELLAR - NIGHT-

LOW ANGLE in the cellar, lit by cracks of light from the floorboards above. Blood slowly forms HEAVY DROPS along the edge of the boards and then DRIPS down. Follow it back up through the cracks...

Where Jack is lying on the floor, still grasping his neck wound. Blood PULSING past his hands. He is fading. He holds his cell phone. We see it is dialing. But not 911... "Bella" flashes on the display...

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-

Will and Y/N step into the dining room. Their movements are slow. So, so tense. They slide toward the kitchen. Eyes darting. Comes round the corner to see...

THE KITCHEN

Lights still on, blood and destruction everywhere. Will looks at the room, the blood smears and the chaos. BLOOD POOLS from beneath the pantry door. They cross to

the pantry door and then stop, realizing Their not alone. Abigail Hobbs stands in the kitchen.

Abigail turns and sees him. Her face is tear streaked. She is agitated, doesn't know what to do.

Will struggles to process her. They stare at one another. Y/N’s heart almost stops. Tears fill them. Will can't begin to understand and yet understands totally… “Abigail...?”

“I didn't know what else to do. So I did what he told me.” Abigail begins to shake, fighting sobs. Y/N goes to comfort her. Enveloping the girl into a tight maternal hug. “Where is he?” Her face suddenly falls. Will has a millisecond to register, and then, before he can react... “Hello, Will.”

I turn around keeping A hold of Abigail. Hannibal is looming behind Will. Arm coming round as if in an embrace, moving swiftly. Will is still in shock about Abigail when Hannibal warmly welcomes him with open arms. “You were supposed to leave.”

“We couldn't leave without you Two.” BLOOD SPRAYS up between them, splashing their faces. Abigail SCREAMS as Will's gun drops to the floor and his hands go to his belly. “No!’ I shout tears spilling from my eyes. Me and Abigail watch in horror as Will staggers and falls against the wall. His gun out of reach. Will looks down --

To see blood SPILLING from a WIDE CUT across his abdomen. His INNARDS straining at the wound. I attempt to go for him but Abigail Grabs my arm. “Abigail let go.” I say fighting against her hold. She just cries “I’m sorry”

“Time has reversed. The teacup I've shattered has come together. A place has been made once more in the world for Abigail. A place was made for all of us. Together. I wanted to surprise you. And you... wanted to surprise me.” Hannibal is heartbroken. Will is shaking, trying to remain conscious and out of shock. I’m still Crying.

“I let you in. I let you know me. I let you see me.” Hannibal says Stroking Will’s hair. “You wanted to be seen.” I never wanted any of this to happen. I Would've left with them if I'd known. Then maybe My friends ...My Will……The father of our child….wouldn't be bleeding out on the floor.

“By both of you. A rare gift I've given you. But you didn't want it.” Will isn't so definitive. “Didn't We?”

“You would deny me my life.”

“Not your life.”

“My freedom, then. You'd take that from me. Confine me to a basement cell. Do you believe you could change me the way I've changed you?”

“We already have.” Hannibal studies Will a moment, realizing he's right. “Fate and circumstance has returned us to the moment the teacup shatters. I forgive you, Will.” Hannibal stands next to a terrified Abigail who realizes she's made a bargain with the devil. Abigail lets go of me and goes to Hannibal. “Will you forgive me?” Hannibal is genuinely sad. Will has time for a single, shocked: “Don't…”

And Hannibal CUTS ABIGAIL'S THROAT in a single, sleek motion, right across the scar where her father once did the same. Abigail's face shows shock and horror. And then blood SPRAYS and Abigail crumples to the floor before Will. “No!” I attempt to get to her but Hannibal Grabs me by my waist. I Cry out like a mother would for her child. “No…no..” I cry.

Abigail clutches at her throat to stop the bleeding, but it pours from between her fingers. Will is horrified. “You can make it all go away.”

“Put your head back. Close your eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream.”

Will drags himself to Abigail and takes his hands from his own terrible wound and places them against her throat. Trying to stem the flow of bleeding. A bloody Will pulls Abigail to him, lifting her head higher to try to stem the blood flow. His own wound TEARS and he SCREAMS in pain… And then it is too much and Will collapses backward to the floor. His own face is inches from Abigail's. She looks at him.

Hannibal Turns me to face him. I look broken. Tears falling. “Please…I'm pregnant…” Hannibal shushes me as he strokes my face. “I could never hurt you…..not now not ever….not even in the midst of this failed plan to capture me.” He strokes my belly gently and Kisses my forehead and my tear stained cheeks. “I’m sorry Y/N.”

We hold a look and then Hannibal disappears into the darkness, I scramble to Will. Cradling his head in my lap, I put pressure on his wound. “Its gonna be okay, you have to be okay”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

SIRENS WAIL in the night, coming closer. ALANA BLOOM -- lies on the ground outside, breathing in shallow gasps, eyes staring upward. Hannibal, now in an overcoat and carrying a valise, STEPS OVER her and keeps walking. Alana's faint breath mists the air... the puffs coming slower and slower.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - PANTRY - NIGHT-

JACK CRAWFORD -- eyes struggling to stay open. Still. Slow, weak breaths. The phone RINGS one last time in his hand and then CLICKS. “Hello...? Jack...?” Jack's eyes flutter and close...

STREET - NIGHT-

Hannibal walks away with his valise as FLASHING LIGHTS and SIRENS invade the street behind him.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT-

ON ABIGAIL HOBBS -- gasping, her eyes reflecting – Fading. He sees the black stag, it now lies on the kitchen floor, breathing in great steaming gasps. Dying… His eyes fixed on the black stag as its breath slows and finally stops… Stinging pain brings him back to Y/N Crying as she struggles to somehow stop his bleeding. His Hand Resting on her belly, as one child dies and the other one grows.