#and also he is SO annoying and i Love Him Deeply

[letmedixonyou]

i'm not yours - part 12

summary: Daryl and you are friends. He used to date Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart, but after awhile, you returned to being friends... right?

Daryl come around after avoiding you all day to let your know about last night's situation. Yet another tragedy struck.

words: 2.5k

warnings: death

A/N: First of all, thank you so much for over 100 followers! WHAT?! Insane! I'm forever grateful! I've been struggling a bit with inspiration to finish these series. I've decided that instead of 15 parts, I will make only 14! I definitely will be continuing it with a sequel, but I'm not sure when! For now, enjoy, muffins! 🖤

The knock on the doors resounded loudly in an almost empty house. You were brought back from the book you were reading to reality in lighting speed. Your head bopped up quickly, and you took a deep breath in, steadying your raising emotions.

You haven't seen Daryl for the whole day. He was avoiding you, that much was clear. Whenever he saw you outside, he made sure to go a different way or just turned around to never cross paths with you. He even changed the shifts of supply run so he wasn't anywhere near you. It made you feel awkward, but you also knew he needed some time.

Your mind was a hundred percent sure he went to see Leah last night. He figured it out at Aaron's birthday party and decided to take care of it as soon as possible. Whatever he saw up there, it was clear that he knew and want going to let what happened to you slide.

When you got home after Aaron's party, you made your way to your bedroom and changed into pyjamas, but couldn't sleep. Your thoughts were pressing you to do something and every time you closed your eyes, you could see another scenario of how Daryl was taking care of the situation. The thought of following him popped into your head, but you chose to stay in the blissful unknown. You thought it would've been easier that way, but you were incredibly wrong. Scenarios you made in your head exceeded any normality by three in the morning. Did he kill her? No, not possible. Not Daryl. Right?

You remember the anger and confusion in his eyes, looking up at that stair landing, trying to make sense out of what he saw, and your doubt dissipates slightly. You wanted to believe he wouldn't kill her, but you also knew Daryl was capable of murder. Not only that, but you saw him do it a few times.

Your feet finally make their way to the doors and you turn the knob.

"Hey," Daryl says, seeing you. His eyes were scanning you carefully. "We need to talk."

"Okay," you mutter and nod, letting him inside, smelling the usual scent of pine and sweat when he passes by you.

Once the doors are closed, both of you head to the living room and sit down on the couch. Your heart is beating fast, and you fiddle with your fingers, waiting for him to speak up. All this time, he was avoiding your eyes and, frankly, you were quite grateful for that. You had no idea what you'd do if he was looking straight at you right about now.

A few more minutes pass until he finally speaks. "I know who did all those things to you," he says lowly.

"Oh?" You pretend not to know anything about it, trying to force the words out of him.

"Leah," he spits out. "It was Leah."

Another painfully long few minutes pass by, and you gulp when, battling your thoughts.

Should I tell him? How is he going to react?

You sigh deeply and you nod. "I know."

His head swings up, and he looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question. His palms land on his knees, and he pulls himself up to stand, starting to pace around the living room.

"You knew?" His words sounded annoyed, almost angry.

"Yeah."

"And didn't tell me why?"

"Because she was your girlfriend once," you begin to explain. "Wouldn't look weird if I started blaming the one person that I always disliked?"

"No, it-"

"Would you believe me if I told you?"

There's a long pause, and he stops pacing, stopping right in front of you. He sits down on the coffee table and takes your hands into his, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and you try your best to ignore it. He looks into your eyes, trying to figure something out.

"Yes. I would," he speaks up. "After the way she treated me, I think I'd believe anything I hear about her."

"But you understand why I didn't want to risk it, right?"

He accepts it with a silent nod and brushes his lips against your knuckles, which makes you panic internally, but you manage a smile. You sit there for a moment more before he makes a comment about your hair being too greasy and needing to hose you down to clean you. You retorted a short "says you" and suddenly everything was a bit lighter.

But you knew you weren't going to be able to fully relax until you knew what he's done.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you do to Leah?"

He sucks in a breath and you brace yourself to hear the worst case scenario. Your mind is screaming at you. He killed her. He killed her. He killed her. You scold yourself internally, and you gaze towards Daryl that was now sitting on the couch next to you. He looked at you with a glint in his eyes, like he knew what you were thinking.

"She's fine," he says slowly. "I just gave her a piece of my mind, that's all."

"I guess she didn't take it well."

"She begged me to take her back."

"What?"

"She's cuckoo. I have no idea how I haven't seen it before."

"I guess love makes us do stupid things," you chuckled.

"I'm not even sure if I ever loved her," he huffs.

Your eyes dart to him, and he's clearly avoiding your gaze. You look away quickly. All these months ago, when you had that argument, he was so convinced that he loved Leah. He said it pretty clearly back then. Was adamant even. Now, he's saying that he doesn't know if he actually had any feelings for her? If there were no feelings, was the entire argument pointless?

No, don't go there. You argued because of your feelings. Not his.

Looking back at him, you realise that he's been lost in thought too. He stared at the wall, his hand loosely on his lap, and the other one was propping his head on the armrest. You poke his side, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?" You ask quietly.

He looks hesitant to share. "I'm thinking that I have no idea how real love feels like."

You wanted to say something, but you were at a loss for words. Your mouth opened and closed many times, but not a single thing came out. Your mind was in overload, thinking about all the ways you could show him what a real love looks like. From gentle kisses to talking about the darkest things possible, you could show him what it feels like to be loved this second if it wasn't for a fact that you swore you wouldn't go there any more. He's your best friend, and you weren't going to risk your friendship ever again.

You take a deep breath, finally finding your voice when a roar of a truck is heard by the both of you. There is a harsh slam of the doors and you can hear Deanna screaming for help. Daryl stands up immediately and you follow. Running to the gates, your heart was beating really hard. It felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. Those type of screams, the blood curdling, toes curling screams, never meant anything good, so you prepared yourself for the worst.

And the worst it was. Spencer hanging off of Deanna's shoulder, bloody and drenched in sweat. His shirt half open, ripped in many places. His boots undone and dusty. His hair disheveled, the usual curls gone and replaced by straight strings clinging to his sweaty forehead. His eyes barely opened like he was about to pass out. A huge, bleeding gash on his shoulder.

Bitten.

"We were gathering garden supplies," Deanna tries to explain, her voice urgent and slightly high pitched. "A group of them attacked us. Spencer told me to stay back… oh, God!"

Your arm snakes around Spencer immediately and Daryl does the same on the other side, taking over from Deanna. You carry him inside Deanna's house and plop him on he couch. You can see he blood staining the cream fabric of it, creating an uneven circle bit by bit. Spencer's mother kneeled next to him, holding his hand, crying quietly and whispering that everything will be okay.

Taking a step back, you lean against the wall, watching the scene. It was hard to watch, knowing what's going to happen next. Sure, Spencer wasn't the best person and had a mentality of a selfish and unreliable person, but it was still somebody's son, brother, life partner. And witnessing Pete slitting Reg's throat and then Rick executing him, you only could imagine what Deanna was feeling right now. Losing your entire family in such short time has to sting a bit, but that is then world you live in now.

You never know what lurks around the corner.

After a few hours, Spencer finally takes his last breath and Deanna insists on piercing his head on her own. Reluctantly, you give her your knife and put a hand on her shoulder to offer support. Spencer's body already started to decompose and it was a matter of time until he wakes up and becomes an undead corpse. You hated this part of the process. As if a person dying isn't enough…

"Goodbye, baby," you hear Deanna say a bit breaks your heart.

She slid the knife into Spencer's head carefully and then left it there. Placing a kiss on her son's forehead, she stood up and looked at Daryl and you. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her lips were pressed into a thin line to stop it from quivering. Her arms straight at her sides, body taut like a string of a bow. She was clearly trying to compose herself.

"You know what to do."

You look over to Daryl and he nods understandingly. He pushes closer to Spencer's body and removes your knife from his head. He gives it back to you, and then slings Spencer over his shoulder and mutters about following him. You do so without question and so does Deanna.

Alexandria has fallen quiet when you came out of the house, the only sound you could hear was sniffling and your footsteps. People came out of their own houses and places of work to spectate and some even joined you. Making your way to the cemetery, the only thing you could think of was your own family and how hard it was to lose them over years.

Once you arrive at the cemetery, Daryl gently put down Spencer's body and grabbed a shovel. Some residents offered help and they all started to dig. Your role in all this was offering comfort, company and support to Deanna. You stood by her, your arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently as she cried and mumbled some unintelligible things.

You stand there for awhile, Deanna was now praying with her head down and eyes closed. She mumbled to her deceased husband, to God, to heavens, trying to guarantee a place of Spencer in there. She was aware he wasn't a perfect person, but he deserved peace after death.

Finally we hear Daryl's voice. "It's ready."

With the help of some people, he lowers Spencer's body into the freshly dug grave and grabs the shovel. He offers it to Deanna to give her a chance to say the final goodbye. She takes it and gets some dirt onto it, throwing it onto Spencer's body. She muttered weak and sniffly goodbye and then gave the shovel back to Daryl.

"I'll help," you say, picking up the shovel.

"No," Daryl protests in a serious tone. "She needs you more."

You look over to Deanna and release that it may be the truth. She looked broken. She stopped crying now and her eyes were empty. Her body seated on the bench was frail and all while she tried to hug herself to protect herself from the pain.

You make your way to Deanna and sit next to her. When she speaks, her voice is weak and quiet.

"Our family was always together. We used to spend every Christmas and Thanksgiving as a family. Spencer and Pete drove all the way to us every single time."

"That sounds nice," you say and smile gently.

"It was horrible. Spencer always found something to argue about and Pete was always drinking way too much," she huffed a quiet laugh. "Every time we ended the holidays on a wrong note, but still they always came back. Because family is important, even if you don't get along."

You nod at her words, agreeing. Your family wasn't perfect either but it was family. It was difficult at times, with everybody having different perspectives on everything. But thinking about it, you wouldn't want it any other way.

Deanna asked you to stay until the grave was done and you did, silently offering support and a shoulder to cry on. She talked a lot more about her family, sharing more anecdotes and stories. You could tell that it was helping her cope so you listened.

After the grave is a gentle heap, Daryl announces to Deanna that it's all finished and she just gently nods. Standing up, she walks over to the grave and kneels at the bottom of it. Her head hangs low.

"I'd like to be alone with my son now," she says.

You nod and gently push the crowd of people away, leaving Deanna alone. Looking back one more time, you see her taking a rosary out of her pocket and starting to pray. Even in the times where the world is filled with undead walking, she still believes there's something, someone out there. Leaving the cemetery, you heard someone saying Spencer was a dickhead anyway.

You look at the male that said it. He was in his twenties.

"Have some respect," you spew out. "Maybe Spencer wasn't the best person, but he was still a human. And a part of this community. So spare the comments like these and maybe think about how would you feel if someone said that about you at your funeral."

The man looks at you and his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He opens his mouth to say something else but the words never come out so you leave. At that moment you felt a little bit triumphant. Your eyes scan the street, trying to find Daryl, but he was nowhere to be seen. Deciding he probably went home, you choose to go back home. You try to process everything what happened, hands stuffed deep into your pockets.

When you reach your house, Daryl is sat on your porch with a bottle of liquor.

[writingbylee]

is this atrociously late? yes. am i still hyped as fuck? also yes.

for real though i’m so sorry that i’ve been so radio silent/inactive lately. i’d say that i’m going to be better from now on, but truly i have no idea because… well the state of the world, ya know?

NEVERTHELESS I PERSIST and i am HERE TO SCREAM ABOUT ELAYNA

The space between them stretches for miles. Cerelle stands only yards away yet Elayna imagines an ocean's worth of distance in the empty space.

OW. Cerelle might piss me off but also the space between her and Elayna after what Johanna said makes my heart ache. just let the sapphics be happy!!!! (not @ you Perse, i know you also want the sapphics to be happy)

Two thoughts cross Elayna’s mind: either the smile on Alia's face is fake, or the other girl just finished making babies cry for fun.

GODDAMN ELAYNA!!! fuck Alia Oakheart amiright? (jk but actually i’m obsessed with this introduction of her and i would LOVE to know more about her!!)

“Marriages cannot be even exchanges. Tyshara won't marry a Reyne.”

well that’s a cold fucking sentence, Cerelle damn. thanks for the reminder that you view Elayna’s house as lesser than yours both in standing and in respectability.

She doesn't deserve to touch Cerelle. Elayna's hands flex and curl into fists, but she closes her eyes and breathes in slowly. It keeps her from swinging on Alia. She forces a smile.

i LOVE this as both a reminder of how much Elayna is able to control her emotions when it serves her, while also being a reminder of just how deeply and fiercely Elayna loves. like she breaks just a smidge because she curls her hands into fists but she manages to calm herself and force a smile because she knows that her love isn’t welcome in the space. it’s so sad but SO powerful.

“I must speak with him alone.” Cerelle pauses. “I really shan't be but a moment.”

hmmmmmmmmm what is she up to?? what does she need to tell Tymon in secret?? I WANNA KNOW

However, given Alia is in the wrong, she has nothing to be sorry for. Alia never knows what she is talking about.

ELAYNA. lowkey i love this representation of Elayna’s hubris, as well earned as it may be. like yes obviously Elayna is a strategic mastermind, but she’s also still young and can still be driven to rash behavior by an annoying peer. you build characters with such nuance and it’s SO GOOD PERSE.

this whole exchange with Alia is SO GOOD. like the way Elayna can tell that she should view Alia’s grin as a warning but pushes past that thought in her head to continue acting in a brash way because that’s what she wants to do in that moment, consequences be damned. their dynamic is so interesting, and i almost hope we see more of it even though from a non-analytical perspective i think Alia is a bitch.

Elayna sits across from her father, an embroidery hoop in her hand.

incredibly off topic from what i was just talking about but this is such a good lowkey way to show how good Elayna is at embroidery?? like to do it in a moving vehicle??? that shit is impressive as fuck— i tried to embroider in a car once and i stabbed the fuck out of myself with the needle like every other stitch and then i just gave up.

She clings to the explanation.

ow OW OW OW. this hurts. i’m literally about to tear up and Alon has literally only said one sentence.

He has never once fractured her trust; it stands as steady as the rocks beneath their feet. He has never once let her down. He will never do so.

i’m fine i’m fine i’m so totally normal and fine😭😭😭

“You may. You won't get them, but you may ask.”

this is such a dad sentence oh my GOD

“Really? I hadn't noticed. You should tell me these things.”

SO IS THIS ONE OH MY GOD

… she can see sorrow in his eyes. He sighs.

ELAYNA. ALON. OW. THEM. THIS RELATIONSHIP. I SIMPLY CANNOT.

Elayna and Alon talking shit is my new favorite thing. get them a gossip podcast right now— i would be SAT

PERSEPHONE!!!!!!!!!!! this chapter is so good. the introduction of Alia and Alon. the tension between Elayna and Cerelle. The ease of Elayna and Alon’s relationship and banter. it’s all so masterfully woven together. i’m so excited to jump into this story again and think about these characters— you’ve threaded them into this world so skillfully that they just belong. it’s such a difficult thing to do with OCs, and you’ve done it again and again in this story and this chapter. it’s just… really really good. thank you for sharing this story with us💕💕💕

Wheel of Fortune: Magician (Reversed)

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price.

Chapter summary: Almost at King's Landing, Elayna finds her circumstances changing. Anxiety and pride mix, causing her to make deals she may regret.

Masterlist

Prologue

Elayna pauses when she steps out of her tent.

The air here tastes different; she isn't sure if she likes it or not. At first, the smell of fresh river water delights her sense. It makes her think of home. Now, as they approach King's Landing and the coast, the water seems less like home.

They still have several more days to King's Landing. Their camp sits on the edge of Blackwater Rush. Gold Road crosses it twice on their way towards the Red Keep, and although it strays from the water, it never strays too far. Elayna wishes it would. She doesn't like the smell or feel of this river. No. She much prefers mountain water to this.

Elayna lifts her upper lip in disgust when the wind blows her way. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Cerelle emerge from her own tent. Cerelle makes a face not too dissimilar from her own.

Their eyes meet.

The space between them stretches for miles. Cerelle stands only yards away yet Elayna imagines an ocean's worth of distance in the empty space. Elayna swallows. Cerelle purses her lips. She looks away first towards the campfires. Even though Elayna can't truly see how she looks, melancholy rolls off Cerelle in waves.

Elayna's feet move without her permission. She makes her way towards Cerelle, consequences be damned. She may speak to Cerelle if she wishes.

Besides, she has been meaning to ask Cerelle if she might ride with her father today. Alon specifically asked last night for her to check.

“Lady Cerelle. May I ask something?”

Cerelle turns to face Elayna fully. Dark circles highlight her lack of restful sleep. While her hair is intricately braided and done, wisps of blonde hair appear everywhere. Her pale skin almost seems to emphasize her condition, making her look almost sickly. She stares at Elayna for a second before slowly nodding.

“Of course.”

“Would it... would it be alright if I rode with my father today? I would like to spend some time with him.”

“I don't see a problem with this.” Cerelle nods her acquiescence. Elayna smiles at her.

“Thank you.” Elayna doesn't move yet. She wants to say something, to address the awkwardness between them. She takes a single step forward. “I- I have something else I want to speak with you about.”

“Don't.” The sudden sternness in Cerelle's tone makes Elayna flinch. Cerelle clears her throat before looking away from her. One of her hands finds the hem of her sleeve. She toys with it for a second before speaking. “I have spoken with mother. She's informed me of the decisions that have been made.”

Cerelle lifts her head and looks at Elayna over her shoulder. One perfectly curled strand of blonde hair falls over it and down her back. Cerelle's rueful expression snaps Elayna immediately back to the present.

“I was told to pursue other, more fruitful, ventures.”

Ah.

Despite the sadness in Cerelle's tone, a quiet weight lifts off Elayna’s chest. It helps, oddly enough. The thought of no longer being miserable alone but Cerelle sharing in her misery helps her. Elayna hates Cerelle feels that way, but at least she knows now she didn't sit in misery and silence by herself.

Elayna shifts from foot to foot. She tries to think of what to say, to tell Cerelle. She wants to tell the truth, but she would risk incriminate herself in the process.

“Would it help if I-”

“Cerelle! Elayna!”

Both Elayna and Cerelle turn to face the newcomer. Elayna bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from scowling. Alia Oakheart makes her way over to the two of them, a pleasant smile on her face. Two thoughts cross Elayna’s mind: either the smile on Alia's face is fake, or the other girl just finished making babies cry for fun. The third thought that makes its way into the forefront of Elayna’s mind, and the one most likely the truth, is Alia has been charged with making sure she and Cerelle don't spend anytime alone.

Elayna hates her all the more for it.

Elayna never quite understood why Cerelle never did anything to have Alia sent back home. Sure, it would most likely cause issues, but those would be worth it to not have Alia hovering around them. She can't put a finger on the point she started to dislike Alia; all she knows is everything Alia does grates her nerves. Even Alia sneezing sets Elayna’s teeth on edge.

Maybe it's because Alia thinks she's as smart, if not smarter, than Elayna. Maybe it's because she always feels an air of judgment from Alia, as if Alia knows about her and Cerelle and is waiting to expose them. Maybe it's because Alia is just a bitch. Whatever quality Alia possesses that Elayna hates, Alia has in a massive quantity.

Alia stops when she reaches the two of them. She smiles at them.

“What are the two of you doing down here? We're about to break camp.”

“Elayna was asking if she might ride with her father today.” Cerelle stands up slowly. She shifts into her usual self, but her heart clearly isn't in it. Elayna nods.

“I was. Cerelle has been gracious enough to allow me to do so.” Elayna knows her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Despite the surface level pleasantness of the interaction, the undercurrent of awkward tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. Alia doesn't prod or push, but she clearly seems to think something more is going on, based on the slightly suspicious look on her face. Cerelle, for her part, isn't helping. She looks anywhere but Elayna, her gaze eventually settling on a tent in the distance.

A squeal of absolutely delighted laughter makes both Cerelle and Elayna turn. The sound comes from down closer to the river.

“Ryman! Stooop, ‘tis not funny.” Despite Tyshara's words, she grins. She blushes, her cheeks a light shade of pink. Ryman sits beside her. The situation doesn't look indecent; Tyshara's two closest confidants and Ryman's two friends all sit clustered together so the pair aren't alone. Still, Ryman leans in a little closer than socially appropriate. He whispers to Tyshara. His words cause her entire face to go pink.

Elayna looks to Cerelle out of instinct. Much to her surprise, Cerelle glances back at her. One of her eyebrows raises. Elayna snorts.

“Elayna, I think your brother might have designs on Tyshara.” Alia Oakheart's voice comes out almost sing-song. Her eyes glitter with genuine delight. Elayna shakes her head with a small smile.

“I doubt that. He plays too much.”

“This looks like some very serious playing.” Alia nudges Elayna with her shoulder. Elayna instinctively pushes back against her.

“It shan't happen.” Both Elayna and Alia turn to look at Cerelle. Cerelle stares forward. She watches the meandering river. “Marriages cannot be even exchanges. Tyshara won't marry a Reyne.”

An awkwardness pervades the air for a second. Alia breaks it.

“No one said anything of marriage. Designs don't guarantee outcomes.” She almost titters. Cerelle tears her gaze away from the river to look at the pair. She catches Elayna’s eye. Elayna cocks her head ever so slightly to the side and shrugs, lifting her eyebrows as she does so. Elayna keeps her gaze trained on Cerelle to make sure she catches her quick eye roll.

For a second, Alia's expression falls. Her eyes flick between Elayna and Cerelle of them. She truly looks crestfallen. A twinge of guilt makes itself known. Elayna averts her gaze. She clears her throat.

“Shall we go break our fast?” Elayna offers. Normally, Cerelle smoothes over any minor slights when it comes to the three of them. She manages their small group. Elayna knows how, but Alia makes it difficult. She never seems to believe Elayna, no matter how earnest she actually is.

“That sounds perfect!” Alia beams. “Cerelle, don't tell us you're not hungry.”

Cerelle stares at Alia. The dark circles around her eyes makes her expression seem sunken. After a moment, she nods.

“Yes. That... that sounds good.”

“Excellent!” Alia smiles. She moves forward and grabs Cerelle's wrist. Elayna swallows down a sudden wave of rage. Alia shouldn't touch Cerelle. She doesn't deserve to touch Cerelle. Elayna's hands flex and curl into fists, but she closes her eyes and breathes in slowly. It keeps her from swinging on Alia. She forces a smile.

The three of them make their way down to where everyone else is. Elayna notes her father and Johanna sitting at the head of the group, clearly deep in discussion. Johanna’s eyes briefly leave Alon. Even from this distance, the intensity of Johanna’s gaze nearly makes Elayna stop. She regards Elayna coolly. After a moment, she turns her attention back to Alon.

Elayna purses her lips. A sense of unease creeps over her. She turns her attention back to Cerelle and Alia in an attempt to ignore her discomfort. Still, it nags at her, prickling in the back of her mind. Elayna follows the other two women to the fires. The smell of food causes Elayna's stomach to rumble. She blushes, embarrassment coursing through her. For a second, she swears she hears Alia giggle. Her suspicions are confirmed when Alia nudges Cerelle with her elbow.

Her heart soars when Cerelle gives Alia a dirty look. Elayna doesn't even bother to hide her smirk.

Their meal consists of bread and some cheese. Their journey demands they eat, especially since setting up in the middle of the day just to eat makes no sense. They can close the distance within two or three nights. Extra breaks mean a longer journey, and everyone wants to reach their destination. Even Elayna finds herself irritated with people; she has no place to hide when she tires of everyone else.

The group sits by the river. Elayna nibbles on her bread. Cerelle barely touches her. Alia seems to be the only one enjoying her food. After several long minutes of silence, Cerelle stands. She moves to her feet rather quickly. Both Alia and Elayna look at her.

“I wish to speak my brother. I shan't be but a moment.”

This time, Alia and Elayna exchange confused expressions. Cerelle and Tymon have grown closer on the trip, so her words aren't unexpected. It's more the delivery and suddenness with which she stands.

“Are you su-” Alia begins, but Cerelle quickly interrupts.

“I must speak with him alone.” Cerelle pauses. “I really shan't be but a moment.”

Elayna nods. While she is just as curious as Alia, Cerelle's tone and expression make Elayna think better of asking what is going on. Besides, if it is important, Cerelle will tell her in time. She thinks. Despite her best efforts, Elayna's faith in Cerelle isn't as strong as it once was. Elayna tries to dismiss it, but it bothers her more than she wants to admit.

“If you need us, we'll be here.” Alia practically chirps. Cerelle nods before making her way towards Tymon and his friend. Elayna watches her march determinedly across the grass towards them.

“So.” Alia clears her throat and looks at Elayna. Her eyes sparkle with barely contained mischief and a deviousness that worries Elayna. “You may be betrothed to Tymon?”

“Mayhaps.”

Alia grins. “And what is your plan to get out if it?”

It takes every ounce of Elayna’s self-control to not recoil. Her upper lip twitches.

“Pardon me?”

“You always have to have a plan. I want to know what it is.” Alia leans in close to Elayna. “So tell me. What is it?”

“You make it sound as if I'm constantly scheming.”

Alia raises an eyebrow. “Are you not?”

“I don't scheme! Planning for the future is not scheming.”

“No, that isn't. What you do is.” Alia laughs at Elayna’s expression. It's almost vicious, and Elayna nearly bares her teeth at her. “Don't tell me that you don't realize that's what you do.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Elayna bites her bread a little more viciously than needed.

“Ohohoho, I finally know something the great Elayna Reyne doesn't.” Alia almost sneers.

“Considering I know what a plan is versus a scheme...”

“Planning means you have a general plan. However, since all of your plans end up with you not only surviving, but you coming out on top? You don't plan. You scheme.”

Elayna huffs. Irritation courses through her and takes over her mouth before she can stop it.

“You shouldn't speak of things you have no knowledge of. It makes you look even more ignorant.”

A brief flash of hurt crosses Alia's face. Were Elayna not so upset, she might apologize. However, given Alia is in the wrong, she has nothing to be sorry for. Alia never knows what she is talking about. Alia presses her lips together.

“I bet you can't do it.”

“Can't do what?” Elayna raises an eyebrow.

“I bet you can't get out of this betrothal.”

“Again. You shouldn't speak on things you know nothing about.”

“Do it then.” Alia tilts her head. “You won't. You can't.”

Elayna sets her piece of bread down in her lap. She stares Alia down.

“Not only will I prove you wrong, but I'll do one even better. I shall get out of this betrothal by getting into a better one.” Elayna lifts her head. Her nostrils flare. She keeps her eyes trained on Alia's, jutting out her chin. She dares Alia to challenge her.

Alia doesn't back down. Instead, she grins. It's a sly grin, one Elayna should heed as a warning. Elayna's lip twitches.

“Prove me wrong then." Alia actually smirks at her. Elayna's fingers twitch. She glares venom at Alia, visions of strangling her or bashing her head into the table dancing through her head.

“Oh, I shall.”

*********************************************

The carriage creaks as it goes down the road. Elayna sits across from her father, an embroidery hoop in her hand. Focusing on her stitchwork not only helps the time pass but also eases her anxiety. It gives her fingers and hands an alternative to picking at stray fibers or her nails.

“I spoke with Lady Johanna.”

Elayna blinks and looks at her father. Alon keeps his hands on the handle of his cane. At first, seeing her father with a cane nearly sent her into a spiral. He could not be so old and feeble as to need a cane to keep himself upright. She wouldn't allow it. Her fears ease as she sees him use it infrequently. She only really sees him use it after a particularly brutal day of travel.

It concerns her he uses it more and more often. The use of carriage instead of horseback also bothers her; she tries to attribute it to his age. Surely it must get uncomfortable riding when one reaches his age. She clings to the explanation.

“Did you?” Elayna tries to keep her tone neutral. Hope creeps in despite itself. Maybe her father talked some sense into Lady Johanna. If anyone could, it would be him. She knows this, is certain of this fact. When all else fails, Elayna can count on her father to not only have her back but find a graceful way out of the situation.

Some might call what faith she has in him blind faith, but it's not. Blind faith implies he could let her down yet she takes the risk in trusting him. No. This isn't blind faith. Elayna knows he has her. He has never once fractured her trust; it stands as steady as the rocks beneath their feet. He has never once let her down. He will never do so.

“It was a productive conversation.”

Patience has never been one of Elayna’s strong suits. Having a potential answer to her problems but not knowing the specific details drives her more than a little mad. She cannot solve her issue if a piece is being purposefully withheld from her. Elayna looks at her father expectantly.

“How so?”

Alon leans back some. He presses his lips together slightly, clearly considering his words carefully. Elayna fights to keep still.

“We may have reached a compromise.” Alon states. His tone carries an odd sense of finality to it, one that sets Elayna on edge.

“May I ask for details?”

“You may. You won't get them, but you may ask.”

Elayna's expression must betray her because Alon shakes his head. A soft hiccup of a laugh betrays the fondness in the gesture. Elayna huffs and leans back. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks out the window. This time, Alon's laughter is unmistakable. Elayna glowers at the trees lining the road. She knows how ridiculous she must look, pouting because she isn't given the information she wants, and Alon's laughter only further makes her feel silly. She gets why he's laughing; it doesn't mean she appreciates it.

“I'm not keeping information from you on purpose.” Alon breaks the silence first. His tone shifts from amused to soothing. He shifts in his seat, the sound carrying a little in the carriage. “Things are not solidified as of yet. When I know more, I shall tell you.”

Elayna nods. Despite herself, her shoulders drop away from her ears and ease down her back. She closes her eyes and inhales slowly. She needs to trust, trust her father and his plans.

“I know.” Elayna winces at how her voice comes out a petulant whine. She huffs a quick breath to try and pull herself together. “I know you will. I just... I do not do well with uncertainty.”

“Really? I hadn't noticed. You should tell me these things.”

His words earn him the nastiest glare Elayna can muster. Alon isn't bothered by it; he merely leans back in his seat and looks out the window. Both hands sit on the pommel of his cane, one resting on the other. The grin on his face is infuriating. Elayna isn't the only one who thinks so. Everyone knows Alon's sword skills were only as good as they were because they had to match his wit.

They sit in silence for a long moment. Elayna listens to the carriage roll along, turning her attention back out the window. She frowns at the passing trees. Despite her best efforts, her teeth dig into and pick at the inside of her cheek and lip. She fidgets. Elayna glances down to her hands and then out the carriage window. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other and then back. She sighs. One of her hands comes up to play with some of the stray curls not captured in her braids. She sighs again. Eventually, Elayna clears her throat and turns to face her father.

“I truly don't like knowing.” Elayna confesses. “I know you shall do right by me. I...” she sighs, “I don't want to marry Tymon. I understand the advantages and what it would do for us, but I cannot. I could never love him. And I know that isn't required for marriage but I have to be able to at least stand my husband, but I could never ever stand him.”

Tears begin to form in her eyes unbidden. She swallows hard. The outpouring of emotion startles even her. She stares at Alon, lip wobbling.

“I don't want to.” She knows she sounds like a child, but it sums up how she feels perfectly.

Alon watches her. The look on his face isn't cold or impassive, far from it. While his face is perfectly schooled, she can see sorrow in his eyes. He sighs.

“The current plan is to find you a better match.” Alon speaks carefully, each word specifically chosen. His reluctance to tell her sits heavy in the air yet Elayna's heart swells. She knows the signs of victory when she sees them. “I won't tell you who. But that is the plan.”

Elayna nods and swallows. Gratefulness and relief creep into her in equal measure. She smiles at Alon, and she watches some of the sadness in his eyes leave.

“Thank you.” She murmurs. Elayna can't find any other words. Alon leans back once more and settles himself in his seat. Curiosity burns through her. It tries to pry her mouth open, but Elayna keeps it shut. Alon clearly sees the conversation as finished; he closes his eyes. Elayna swallows hard. A million and one worries dance through her head. She breathes in slowly.

“Elayna. I would not do anything to bring you harm.” Alon keeps his eyes closed. Elayna nods and turns her head.

“I know.” She presses meaning into the simple phrase. Having been at Casterly Rock for so long, trust seems as unfamiliar as a friend who she long lost contact with due to being oceans apart. The danger present in such emotion makes her skin itch. Still, Elayna places her trust in him.

“You shall be fine. I promise you this.”

Elayna picks up her needlework once more. She moves slowly and far less viciously.

“Did I tell you.” Alon interrupts the silence. He still keeps his eyes closed, but his tone makes Elayna look up from her work. “I heard the most interesting rumor about James Crakehall the other day.”

“Oh?” Elayna tilts her head to the side. She finds Lord Crakehall repulsive for many different reasons, a fact she expresses to Alon whenever his name comes up. She distinctly remembers the old man leering at her when she was but two and ten. Neither her nor Alon will ever forgive the offense. “And what did he do now?”

“To my knowledge, there are two new Hills. Unofficially of Crakehall. Of course.”

“And? We know there to be at least 5 Hills a year born there.” Elayna scoffs. “More if rumors are to be believed.”

“None who's mother is newly six and ten.” Alon raises an eye. Elayna drops her needlework in her lap.

“Tell me you jest. Where did you even find out this information?”

“We aren't the only ones who dislike him.” Alon shrugs. “While I have never heard of him officially trying anything untoward, Dustin Plumm seems to have the same gripes as us.”

“Six and ten?”

“Aye. Six and ten.”

“And to think my opinion of the man could have been no lower.” Elayna scoffs. “If it were any lower, it would be in the Seven Hells themselves.”

Alon laughs. The laughter turns into a cough, one seemingly rattling Alon's very bones. Elayna sits up with alarm, needlework clattering to the floor of the carriage. Alon grunts. He waves her away.

“I'm fine.”

Despite him forcing each word through his breathlessness, Alon's tone is sharp, sharper than normal. Elayna hesitates, but Alon opens one eye to level her with a look. She holds up her hands in surrendered before sitting back down. After a moment, she bend forward and picks up her work.

“And how do you know Lord Plumm has the same complaints as us?”

“I have my sources.”

Elayna resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she looks back out the window. The distance between her and her fate closes with each turn of the carriage wheels. She purses her lips together. Gossiping about other people's misfortune would keep her mind off of her own impending doom.

“And what of Lord Crakehall? What does he say to the accusations?”

[andsotheuniverseended]

Jian is an insufferable brat. unfortunately i love him dearly and want desperately for him to find a happy life. even more unfortunately everyone in the world wants him very dead and its not even for the insufferable brat thing!

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

One thing I find funny about arguments that people who are unsatisfied with how Campaign 3 ended because it feels like it lacks consequences just want characters to die is that, aside from the obvious fact that narrative consequences just means actions have clear follow through and results, is that at least for me, it's like, yeah, I DO like it when characters die in stories.

One my favourite moments in C3 is FCG's final sacrifice and how in the moment of their death they became truly alive because of the connections of love and friendship he had made with the other characters. The first meta I ever wrote for CR (and I stand by the idea of it if not how I conveyed it) was about Laudna and how it actually made an interesting and resonant ending to her narrative for her to have been permanently killed by Otohan in Bassaras. My favourite meta I've ever written for anything is a 6 paragraph rundown of all the character deaths in Midst and how well they're integrated into the overall narrative. One my favourite anime I've ever watched is one which is (in)famous for systematically killing off most of its main cast (Bokurano for the curious). I, personally, love death in narratives and love analyzing how it can be used as a narrative device to add tension, capstone a character's personal arc, influence and redirect the arcs of other characters, and work to create and enhance themes of grief, loss, and trauma. My personal favourite theme that can come out of death in narratives isn't even about the dead character, it's about those left behind and how living can feel not like a blessing but a condemnation after a deep loss but you have to keep going, because you have been condemned to live.

I would have loved to see a version of Campaign 3 where Laudna did permanently die and Imogen had to deal with that. Perhaps the resurrection ritual they attempted with Pike could have failed, and she and the rest of the Hells had to deal with the fact that they couldn't bring her back, but they did free her from Delilah so she'll have peace in her death and they have to be okay with that. Perhaps Imogen could even realize posthumously that she loved her. I would have loved to see the aftermath of FCG's sacrifice more fully explored, with the Hells sitting in their grief even as the world continues to fall apart (though I understand the real world circumstances of Sam's absence are likely what made the cast reticent to do that). I would have loved to see a version of the endgame where Ludinus was successful in fully siphoning Liliana and Imogen has to grapple with her inability to fully trust her mother ultimately killing her (though at least she has a Ludinus-shaped outlet to take things out on).

All that being said though, my issue with how Campaign 3 ended isn't the lack of deaths, it's that everything ended in a way that was nice and pleasant and neat without any real weight, with a few things that DID have weight when they initially happened being completely de-fanged so that they could be nice and pleasant and neat. I can deal with and even greatly enjoy no deaths or even negative deaths if it's handled with narrative weight and care, and I don't feel that C3's ending was.

[blatantprinterpropaganda]

style: i could fix him.

fadel: you think i can be fixed? 🥺

[op-dumpstertruck]

“I got you no matter what” EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRY SCREAM THROW UP—

Yesss - if there is one thing Zoro is, above anything else, he's loyal! I haven't drawn much out yet, but I do see him being not exactly perfect with this (he does tumble along, says some insensitive stuff, really doesn't get Sanji for the longest time because they communicate badly) but! When shit hits the fan he is there! And of all the strawhats I think he'd be the most quiet/calm/stalwart support there is. (And Zoro is definitely pro choice, I do see him as someone for whom it's as simple as 'he doesn't want this so it's not gonna happen'.) With alllllll the other things they argue about, this should be a huge fight. But it doesn't happen - not here, and not about that.

[snuggles-and-struggles]

I have probably half a dozen or more ideas around one or both halves of spicyhoney being a "gaster blaster dragon" shapeshifter beast thing, but the most recent addition to the pile is rattling around again so

In this specific version, they're more akin to werewolves in their alternate form than full quadruped "dragons" (or what have you), so still mostly biped, no wings, just bigger and pointier with the Signature elongated skulls with horns and the double jointed legs. And tails of course, I would never miss an opportunity to add tails.

Anyways. After meeting via typical machine shenanigans before surfacing, none of them are certain the others can shapeshift and sort of try to hide it while simultaneously finding out? But of course, eventually, they soon learn the truth, and are more comfortable discussing the odd trait amongst each other.

Except Edge. For whatever reason, he excludes himself from anything related to shifting, and hasn't done so in front of any of the others. To each their own, whatever, eventually, one by one, they're freed to a shared surface, and things are looking up.

Except for Edge. At least for the most part. Ever since surfacing, he’s seemed to have gradually increasing problems with his temper and magic control. This could be chalked up to how stressful his job is, or the same reasons other monsters had noticed changes in their magic control (just natural adjusting to no longer being underground). But Rus suspects it's more than that.

He enlists Stretch's help to figure out what's wrong with Edge, and primarily only manage to stress and upset him further. So Stretch takes one rare opportunity to talk to Edge alone, and with a lot of patience, ultimately learns that Edge's shifting ability doesn't work like everyone else's. It's almost like some sort of alter ego takes over, and he almost never remembers what he did while shifted.

It started when he was a young teen, and got worse over the years, especially as he gained LV. It really is almost like a stereotypical werewolf situation for him, as he, apparently, behaves very animalistic and aggressive. He used to be able to shift with his brother's supervision just to burn off the excess magic but it's become a bigger problem since surfacing, likely due to the improved quality of health and living.

Stretch listens, and then they talk, and ultimately, he offers to help Edge burn off some of the energy now and then. Edge is averse to the idea for the same reason he doesn't want his brother around anymore, fear of hurting him, but Stretch insists his reflexes are plenty good, and he has full conscious control in his shifted form, so he'd be more than equipped.

They back and forth a bit more, until Edge agrees to think about it, which leads to accepting some time a few days later. He can't keep letting this hamper him. Stretch is also hopeful that exercising his alt form more frequently might help him redeveloped his self awareness as he couldn't shift all that frequently back underground, which Stretch believes to be the bulk of the problem.

The story then goes on to follow Stretch figuring out the best ways to help Edge (starting with supervised romps through mostly empty woods), and Edge slowly slowly slowly regaining his consciousness even while shifted, and of course growing closer as friends as well. And then they kiss <3

/j but also /srs, although of course there's drama that comes up here and there, probably involving either Edge accidentally hurting Stretch, or someone else hurting Stretch and Stretch having to stop Edge from tearing them limb from limb lol, idk. But they're cute! After they're closer Stretch sometimes calls Edge puppydog and he fucking hates it (<- lie)

[riacte]

so hey guys i finished dungeon meshi yesterday and i'm still thinking about it

[laurellala-comics]

A couple of years ago I made a few comics about an alien shapeshifter named Shiv that tried to look as hot as possible to distract everyone around him from how out of place he was. It worked on everyone except his butch lesbian coworker who hated his guts and kept pointing out his weird behavior (it's ok, they become besties later). Here's some snippets from that:

other highlights from this comic:

Shiv was an actor who played an alien on a tv show for children that was basically The Wiggles in space. It was called Silly Space Squad (or SSS pronounced like a snake sound)

Shiv understood conceptually that some people were more attractive than others but didn't really get it on a personal level (aro ace king), so he moved in with 3 male models so that he could study them intently and copy how they looked

Vampires were also real in this universe, but this was glossed over because the alien thing was more important to the plot

[lovrbooy]

i feel like i have very unpopular opinions on dennis within this fandom. i am scared of fandom spaces so. to the tags i go

[youngpettyqueen]

I love every episode where 11 has to blend in with people and do average people things because he is soooooooo completely incapable of behaving normally

[gregmarriage]

need me a relationship like mulder and scully. i say wild and crazy things, but you respect and admire my beliefs and my passion. also, you think i’m cute

[sysig]

idontwannabeyouanymore (Patreon)

[kakusu-shipping]

⚖️&🎉 for Bumi? (I saw your post tags and was like 🤔) - @wheresunandseameet

Yay my weirdo of a father <3 He's new.

⚖️ - Blood related, adopted, or found family? (If one of the latter two, how did you meet?)

Adopted, against his majesty's will. King Bumi was reaching the average lifespan age and hadn't appointed his heir, one of familial link or otherwise. So I, an Orphan off the streets of Ba Sing Se, was chosen from a few other Earth Bending Orphans and shipped off as a birthday gift to the king of Omashu.

He was a lot more accepting of some random kid suddenly becoming his son than I first expected, then I spent 20 years around him and quickly realized it was a very in character reaction for him.

🎉 - Favorite holiday to celebrate together?

I don't enjoy Holidays as King Bumi will often use them as an excuse to avoid very important work.

He can't sign this very urgent decrees he has to help the city decorate for the Winter Solstice. He'll have to miss that Very Important meeting with the Ba Sing Se generals because it's the 3rd day of the Lunar New Year. Couldn't possibly pass judgment on a captured criminal today it's Badge Mole Day.

Sometimes I think he makes up holidays as an excuse to avoid his duties just because he likes making my life harder.

[quietwingsinthesky]

whenever I’m making samifer noncon posts they are meant to be read with the subtext of Lucifer being so lovesick over Sam that he has to have him, can’t handle being denied, will force this any way he can if it just means he gets to keep Sam like a bird in a cage. It’s part entitlement and part desperation, in the heart of a creature with far too much power at his fingertips to bend the world how he wants it to be. Primed by centuries in this cage where he was the only thing Sam had and could do whatever he wanted and Sam couldn’t leave him or stop loving him back. A being that was taught what love meant when he looked at God and said ‘you will always be the most important thing to exist, even if you tell me otherwise,’ and God responded by putting him in a hole and forgetting about him.

[floorpancakes]