#anyway it's not like i want to beat a dead horse on the head but i keep getting asks about it

[lemonhemlock]

This ship war discourse is so weird, why don't people just unfollow, mute, block each other and move on? Maybe someone wants to have fanons as canon for now, so what of it? Unless they are bothering people, it's just fine, if they're bothering people and being rude - report or block them. Maybe someone wants Alys to be a Harley to Aemond's Joker, or maybe someone wants Aemond to be her boytoy, canon doesn't specify anything. I don't ship it, but some people are so insistent on making Alys into a victim and Aemond into a rapist, I understand why people who actually love Aemond don't want to see it. Especially given how Aemond in the show is different from his book counterpart. I also can understand when shippers don't want to see criticism of their ship in the tag when there are so few posts about their ship. When it will hit big, they will have bigger problems but also more shippers to interact with and more content, but when you go into the tag and find criticizing posts only, it can be sad and lonely and fandoms are supposed to be for fun.

i can never condone others choosing to be so awful with one another over fiction of all things, but i wish the spaces around these two contentious ships could allow for normal conversations between users who highlight their different preferences, but manage to keep it civil and don't take every little thing personally. but it doesn't really go like that, does it? very often insults are involved and it degenerates into a bizarre moral call-out. which i think is the main aspect people are bothered about. there's a massive amount of insincerity and dissimulation that's just weird and sometimes 1984-ish.

similarly, i get how only reading criticism can get tiring when you just want to have fun with your goth barbies without getting dragged all the time. but, what i wanted to say, actually, was that this goes beyond criticism. exploring the dark aspects of a very dark ship is not definitionally equivalent to criticism. but, similarly, it seems to be something alysmonds are averse to?

re: Alys being a POW or there being a huge, problematic age gap between them. it's legit like shipping hannigram but hannibal is not allowed to be a cannibal and any mention of cannibalism leads to a meltdown. like, it removes such a fundamental aspect of that dynamic that you end up with something unrecognisably different from the starting point. which, again, fine, people are allowed to ship it like that even, if they so want, but then they should acknowledge it's a very niche and peculiar interpretation and treat it as such. not claim ownership of an entire tag and try to impose their niche interpretation on the rest of the people interested in that ship. i dunno if this makes any sense but it's late, so. :)

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎSomeday⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: copious amounts of angst, death pairing: billy the kid x fem reader author’s note: I never cry writing and I cried during this so...keep that in mind Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The ordinary defines everything. Each last is nothing special at first glance, but in memory becomes momentous. Then it all hits you like a bolt of lightning, sparking a fire that burns everything down.

Ordinary was waking up next to Billy, finding you had shifted in the night, and snuggling back up to him. It was wearing his shirt while you prepared breakfast, and having him come up behind you, arms covering your tummy as a kiss was pressed into your temple. It was giggling and turning around to give him a proper kiss, forgetting about what was cooking on the stove. It was eating your burnt pancakes and him assuring you they were delicious anyways, asking for seconds and beaming as you slipped another charred circle onto his plate.

Tan already from previous hours in the sun, he'd kissed you goodbye, big hand steady on the back of your head, eyes reflecting the beat of his heart for you. "I'll be waitin' for you, sweetheart."

The image of him toiling over the garden for you, shirt half unbuttoned in the sweltering heat of the day, was a pleasant daydream as you went about your business in town. Half-distracted by it, you absentmindedly paid for your things in the general store, meandering over to your horse, packing the saddlebags and climbing on. Steadily, you grasped the reins, spurring the creature into a gallop.

It was one of those days when the world was bright-eyed and open- the first one after so many days of rain. The sun was warm on your skin, and you knew Billy would trace the freckles you surely gained later, when you were both between your sheets, bare and blissful from the act of loving. The air held a promise of hope as springtime always did, the light of new beginnings a guiding path.

The spirit of the season had entered your home without so much as a knock. In recent weeks, Billy had begun to talk of riding out west, somewhere shiny and new where nobody would have heard his name or shuddered at his reputation. You were excited by the prospect, knowing how he had chased a fresh start for most of his life. It had always been just out of reach, or marked by some unseen consequence that set him right on the outlaw's path again. This time was different- you'd be leaving the state entirely. Tentatively, you began to make plans, set money aside. Late summertime, maybe, or early fall.

At night he whispered his dreams into your hair, stroking your collarbone lazily where his arms were wrapped around you. "Gonna get the nicest piece 'f land...and we'll live together, just the two of us. It'll be so nice, baby...you 'n me." Brushing tender kisses to your cheek, he promised it in everything he did. The way he touched you, kissed you, made love to you. It was a promise of someday.

Destiny breathed down Billy's neck, cutting sharp at his heels. It was tangled in every action, sprawled across each word. Somewhere in the back of your mind you feared your time with him would be short, the law hot on his tail. There were people out there who wanted the love of your life dead or alive, who'd do anything for a little bit of money. The thought made you cling tighter to him, though you never breathed a word about it.

So when he spoke of someday, you enthusiastically partook, determined to outrun what loomed over the life you'd built with him.

Tonight, you had agreed to start determining a route, and more importantly a destination. You imagined yourself sitting on his thigh, cheek to his shoulder with the candlelight flickering leisurely as he secured an arm around your waist, the other hand pressed to a map. Every little line was a possibility. Anywhere but here.

Smiling a little at the idea, you tugged on the reins, slowing your horse as the quaint house in which you resided came into view. It wouldn't be where you slept much longer. Your real home was the man who rested next to you.

Dismounting, you unloaded your things, petting the thick neck of the horse fondly. Grass grazed your calves as you made your way to the steps, carefully climbing each and making sure to avoid the one that creaked. The house was quiet when you opened the door, and you figured Billy must still be outside.

Humming to yourself, you opened drawers and cabinets, putting your purchases in their rightful places. The orderliness of your house was something you relished- the domesticity of it all. Out of the corner of your eye, something colorful caught your attention. Turning around, a vaseful of wildflowers, arranged in a messy bouquet, met your vision. He must have picked them for you, a sweet surprise for when you returned.

A smile parted your lips, and you touched the pretty blooms, taking careful notice. The daisies were as pure as the season's first snow, your very favorite flower. Forget-me-nots were scattered among them, the same color as his eyes. You had told him that once, and he'd pressed a kiss to the hand held in his grasp. "That's the nicest thing I ever did hear."

Childhood hadn't been easy on you, its duration long and arduous. Your past weighed on you like a stone, sinking you to the bottom of the river. Somewhere in its depths, you had found him too. In the act of falling in love you subconsciously swore to bring out the beauty of life in each other. Under the blanket of his love, you glowed.

It was just like him to make sure you had something pretty to come home to. Bouncing on your heels, you wondered why he hadn't come in yet. Surely his work hadn't taken him so long to complete. Your Billy was always toiling over the littlest details, wanting things to be perfect for you.

Deciding to go out and give him a break from his labors, you fixed one of the flowers he'd left for you behind your ear and swung the door open, stepping out onto the back porch. Peering out into the open expanse, you frowned when he was nowhere to be found.

Descending the stairs, you searched the area, bewildered. Was he outside at all? Had he gone to your bedroom, exhausted from his activities? You looked down aimlessly, already half decided to go check there.

He was flat on his back, eyes blue as the flower in your hair staring glassily at the sky. A crimson stain on the right side of his chest told the story you would never utter. You did not need to touch him to know he was cold.

The world became a void. There was nothing in it except the shell of the man you loved, lying still at your feet. Every thought you had was inconceivable, voices screaming that you were deaf to. Yesterday was suddenly your golden years.

Deadly calm, you numbly bent to the illusion before you, in the shade of the nearby oak tree. Kneeling and sliding your hand under him, his head found a place in your lap. Smoothing a hand through his hair, you brushed the dirt from it, taking one last look into his eyes before smoothing his lids over them. He didn't need to see you like this.

You saw a myriad of memories dance before your eyes, nearly taunting you. They were so close you could nearly taste them, but they lived in a different realm. You could not have them any more than you could have him.

Waking in his arms, morning light making him akin to an angel. It was so warm there burrowed into him, his body swathing yours like a blanket. Without opening your eyes you could feel his lips against your forehead, his morning tradition. Even when he didn't think you were awake, he was giving you kisses. It was the purest testament of his infinite love, washing over you in waves, rebounding for more before the last had passed.

Tucked in his stiff fist were more flowers. You could picture him studying his bouquet in the kitchen and deciding to come back out for more. Maybe if he'd stayed inside it would have saved him. Though he usually wore his holster, gun tucked at his hip, today it was nowhere to be found. A few feet away laid his hat, abandoned for unknown reasons.

Birds sang cheerfully in the distance, wind whistling softly and swaying the grass against you. It was as if the earth was reaching out, a hand on your shoulder.

"It's okay," you breathed, body operating on pure instinct now. The walls were closing in, and breathing felt like a chore. "You're okay...we'll...we'll just rest here for a moment." Swallowing thickly, you whispered, "We'll pick a place together for you to rest...longer. It's gonna be okay."

Cradling his head in your lap for the time being, you breathed in and out, fingers stroking his pale cheek. Determinedly, you did not look at the wound in his chest, focusing on his face. This was the most peaceful you'd ever seen him. The man you loved, slipped into his forever sleep. It wasn't real to you...but you could see awareness running toward you in the distance, poised to hit you at any minute. Maybe it was stupid, but you'd always imagined you'd go together.

A sudden chirp pierced the air, and you looked to it, seeing a little bird perched on the thick, knotted roots of the tree whose shade you knelt in. The little creature called incessantly, beak pecking the ground beneath its feet. It repeated the motion, as if insisting on something, before taking flight and leaving you.

He wants to be buried there.

A flood of tears stung at your eyes, and you bit the side of your lip, attempting to hold them in, but it was too late. What had been circling you had suddenly crashed, and now there was salt on your skin, falling in pearls down your cheeks like landslides. They darkened his shirt like raindrops, though the sky was clear. Helplessly, you gasped, wanting to stay strong, but the force was cruel, unable to be reasoned with. Sliding his head off your lap, you laid there on the ground beside his lifeless form, ear on his chest desperately searching for the familiar steady thump of his heart. Maybe his blood was on your face now, but you didn't care.

"Please come back," you pleaded, squeezing your eyes shut. "We're not done yet...we have to run away together, remember? And we're going to be happy-" A sob cut you off, and you buried your face in his neck, opposite hand fisting his shirt. You had always known your Billy to be warm, life bursting from the seams of him. It was disheartening to learn how cold he now was. This wasn't him. But it was all you had left.

How fragile a thing life was, how cruel a thief. The universe had given you such a love, one that transcended everything you knew, and then ripped it away, jagged edges left where he used to hold you. The future you had dreamt of, that you had counted on, had exploded into dust, as if it had expired. Dead with the one you'd desired it with.

You would never love again. There wasn't another breathing soul you could give your life to in the way you had him. The grave you would dig when you found it in you to let go wouldn't just be for his shell, but for your heart. If you could have cut out the organ and replaced his still one, you would have. Without Billy, what was the point in having it?

Grief ate at you, turned your lips down and spilled from your eyes, pathetically leaving your body weakened. However much he would have wanted you to keep going was irrelevant. Billy hadn't known how much of your will had stemmed from him.

There were so many things you wished you could have told him. So many things you had needed to do. Someday hadn't only been leaving the county. It had been getting married, something he so desperately had wanted. It had been your belly swelling with his child, growing old together, forever in love and finally free.

Now you were left with that same love, only it had unsheathed a new face, one that twisted an imaginary knife and spoke in absolutes you didn't want to believe. He will never hold you again, never kiss you again. The last time was the last time.

Love had shattered your heart and stilled his. Love separated you from him, became bloodthirsty when half of a whole was torn away.

You lifted your head, hoping he would be looking down at you, that nearly crooked smile breathing life back into your being. But he was still, and the world became greyer.

All that was wondrous and lovely before had dulled, and you were numb to any beauty probing at your senses. You could never look at it the same. Billy had told you once before that it was one of his favorite things about you, how you could find a reason to love anything. You knew now that it did not extend to death.

"I'm so sorry, my love," you murmured, leaning up and pressing your lips lingeringly to his cheek. His stubble scratched your chin, and you knew it would leave a mark. But it would fade away too, because all things end. Everything had to die when you least wanted it to.

"Rest and I'll be here with you." Your voice thinned as tears crept into it. "All is well."

His chosen burial spot beckoned, and you ignored the call, leaning your cheek back over his heart, reassuring both him and yourself. His last words to you echoed in your ears until they drew forth from your lips.

"I'll be waiting for you."

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt.13

Anna shook you gently awake and you made a pout and a soft whimper escaped at the harsh reality break away from Sandor.

“The first house we see we’re going in it.” The man of your dreams spoke, already on his horse.

“Good morning.” You replied sarcastically, standing up and turning to face him, body still stiff from slumber. “And what if there’s someone inside the house?”

“That’s shit for him then I suppose.”

You barely had to help Anna onto her horse and afterward you began your approach to Stranger. “And if it’s a family? Don’t you think most single men are off in this war, dead or alive. We’re far more likely to come upon the family he left behind.” You proposed, securing your foot in the stirrup and attempting to smoothly mount Stranger with Sandor in the way. His hand graced your lower back as you swung your leg around and your heart beat quickened.

“Shit for them then.” He said as you adjusted yourself against his lap, and he tried not to let it excite him. You turned your head to look at him disapprovingly. “You don’t mean to just take someone’s home.”

“I do, and if they’re stupid enough to fight about it, I mean to kill ‘em.” He grinned, showing off his teeth.

You looked him up and down, mouth opening and shutting wordlessly before you turned around again with a sigh. What could you possibly say to him? Stranger began his stride away from the woods and you began to think.

Without turning around, you asked, “Do you really love killing?”

“That’s what they say, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s what they say… I’m asking what you say.”

“Yes.” He answered simply.

“Would you kill anybody?” “You’ve got someone in mind?” “Well no, I mean.. Anybody in a broader sense. Women, children, your family?”

“Suppose I already have.” Your heart sank at the thought.

“Would you do it again?..”

“If I need to… Anyone that stands against me must wish for death. And if we ever cross paths with my brother it’s my intention to kill him, or die trying.”

“You can’t say that.” You shook your head.

“I can and I will.” “Sandor we need you. You’re forbidden to die.”

He chuckled behind you. “Tell that to The Mountain. Even if he doesn’t have orders for it already, he’ll want to come teach his baby brother a lesson… If we cross paths with him I don’t think there’s anything you or I could say that would stop his cleaver coming down on my head.”

You cringed and turned slightly to catch a glimpse of him. “Has your brother always been evil?”

“What’s the start of all this anyways? Is this about that boy?”

“Boy?” The realization hit you as soon as the word left your mouth. “Charlie?” You faced forward again, uncomfortable with him seeing you all of a sudden.

“The one you love.” “I-“ you furrowed your brows and saw that Anna was listening to your conversation. “I do love him…” You said honestly.

“You’re wondering if I’d kill your boy if he’d got in the way.”

“I wasn’t… I try not to think about him at all, I’m sure you can understand that, being that you watched him die too.”

Sandor did not say anything for a long while and you tried to focus on the rolling hills to distract yourself. “Who was he to you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes, concentrating your breathing. “He was a great man..”

“He was a boy.” You shook your head. “He was both.. He was brave and kind, and bratty and..” you smiled softly back at Anna when you noticed she must have been reflecting on her own memories of him. “And he lived a very unfair life, and he died a very unfair death because of me… He should never have come back for me.”

“Why did he come?” “He decided we were leaving; us and Anna. I’m not sure how much of a plan there was after that,” you smiled a little, “he was a servant who’d spent his whole life in King’s Landing— didn’t know anywhere else, but he had enough sense in him to leave and take the people that he loved with him…”

You contemplated why Sandor was asking about him, if not only to deter from talking about his terrifying brother. The one you love, who was he to you? He’s jealous. “It wasn’t romantic if that’s what you’re wondering… Though I suppose in the end it wouldn’t have mattered anyways, huh? He was too young to love, I thought… Though he must have felt it in some way because he saved my life over and over again.. The only things he ever asked of me were to keep living, and to grant him a kiss. I fulfilled one wish, I intend to make my life count for him too.”

You looked back at Sandor to see his mouth twisted into a confused frown. “It’s a love like the one I feel for Anna. Trust, compassion, connection, feeling like you want to care for each other, make them feel safe and loved. Haven’t you ever loved someone like that? Your mother, or a best friend?” ~Haven’t you ever loved someone?~

“No.”

The simple word felt piercing. You continued on as if you weren’t devastated that he could not comprehend the feeling. “It’s probably the only love I’ll allow myself to feel ever again.” You looked at Anna, who was still watching you, tight-lipped in disappointment. “It’d be much safer to never love again, but I think I have a great capacity for it. I will always have some sort of love in my heart for my family, my friends, you.”

You swallowed the anxious lump in your throat. “I meant it back then when I said it to you… I know you think I’m some stupid girl, with fantasies of knights taking up space over logic, but it was true then. I’d never felt anything that strongly before, so I know it was love… But once was enough. The consequences of my heart being so open were enough to have closed it up to that kind of love ever again… So thank you for giving me that opportunity, and thank you for saving me… I hope you can learn to trust me, and that we can be allies from here on out. No more grudges.”

After your speech went unanswered, you blushed and began to play with strangers mane. “And I’ll stop talking now..”

~

It wasn’t much longer before Anna spotted a house and drew your attention to it. The three of you slowed, and you looked to Sandor for direction.

“It’s good.” He nodded, dismounting. “Stay with the horses.” He instructed. “But—“

“I don’t know how I can make it any clearer, woman.”

He began his stride without ever looking back. Your nerves intensified the closer he got to the house. You twisted the reins in your hands and chewed your lip, glancing at Anna and praying the home was empty. Sandor entered through the front door, sword drawn, and to your horror, only seconds later you heard a woman’s scream. The children were the first to stumble out, their mother close behind them, looking like she’d seen a monster. Sandor must have been searching the house as the mother held her children close, cowering on the grass. “My baby, please! My baby!”

Her cries pushed you over the edge and as you saw Sandor emerge with his sword still drawn, you grabbed the reins tightly and kicked the horse to drive you forward.

“Stop!” You begged, hoping you could stop the horse as Sandor always had. Sandor turned to look at you in shock and his sword even dropped a little. Stranger stopped roughly and you clenched your thighs to hold on. You were breathless with fear but when you saw Sandor up close you watched him roll his eyes and his stance became casual.

“You have a baby in there?” You asked the woman, who was beet red and had tears dripping off her jaw. She held her kids, a boy and a girl, closer to her chest, but the boy tried to step forward.

“It’s my brother!” He tried to be brave, but you could see the fear in his eyes.

You looked to Sandor again for confirmation, and he blinked slowly, as if disappointed, and nodded. You heard very faint wailing begin inside the home and your heart sank.

“Please don’t hurt us! Please don’t hurt my baby!” The mother trembled in horror, pulling her son back by his shirt.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” You assured. “We’ve got to find somewhere else. These children won’t make it to any town.”

Sandor’s eyes scanned across your face and then the faces of the family, and the crying from within the home intensified. You withheld a huff and walked up to him, placing yourself between him and the children. “Please, Sandor. Let’s keep going.” You pleaded with your eyes. He sheathed his sword and took a step toward the home.

“We’re staying here tonight.” He looked at you sternly before softening. “They can stay too.” You breathed a sigh of relief and turned to them to offer a smile. “Come and shut that baby up.” He said when he disappeared from your view.

The mother rushed in and you signaled to Anna to come down. Grabbing Stranger’s reins to tie him to the side of the home, you were alarmed to find the little boy right behind you. “You gonna kill us?” He asked. He couldn’t have been older than 7 or 8.

“No, we’re—.. We just need food and a place to sleep. We won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us.”

“Yeah well you better be gone tomorrow. That’s when my dad’s coming home, and he’ll slice the lot of you. He doesn’t care if anyone’s bigger than him, he’s not scared of anything. You’ll see tomorrow!” He threatened before running off to find his mother.

You weren’t sure whether telling The Hound about this threat would help or hinder your situation. It was still midday; you were sure you could find another home before sundown. Your stomach growled and you heard the sound of brutish hands rummaging about in the kitchen. Tomorrow, we have to be gone tomorrow.

You entered the small home with Anna and were hit with a wave of nostalgia for your own upbringing. It was humble, darker than you expected, with its windows all boarded up, but it had food and drink on display and a fireplace to keep warm at night.

“Excuse me, sir, th-that’s my husbands…” the mother spoke up, bouncing her child in her arms.

Sandor continued to chug down a bottle of liquor and when he pulled it from his lips he smiled. “He’s not here, is he? And we’re your guests… You’d do well to keep your trap shut or you can all take your chances sleeping outside.”

Part of you wanted to argue with Sandor, but an indecent part of you knew that he was right. Her husband wasn’t here, and any chance you had to stay out of sight and get food in your bellies would be stupid not to take. Sandor was being generous to let them be so close to us, knowing they could attack or report.

“Make us a meal, woman.” He commanded.

Her eyes held spite but she still handed the baby off to her daughter and entered the kitchen with him. You tried to distract yourself from the hostile situation by trying to put the girl at ease. She sat in a rocking chair by the cold fireplace and watched you like a hawk as you sat down across from her on the floor.

“You’re very good with him..” you commented softly, and she looked at the baby in her arms. “I never wanted a brother… My father stunk so bad sometimes I thought that was just the fate of all boys.” You looked over at Sandor, who was resting his feet on the kitchen table and leaning back with his bottle, watching the woman work. “I think that I was right.” You turned up your nose and made a face and when you looked back at her she was trying to conceal a smile. “But you’re already used to having a brother, huh? An older brother, right?”

She nodded shyly. “I bet he’s protective over you. That might be nice to have, even if they stink.” “Is that your brother?” She looked to The Hound. You smiled and shook your head.

“He’s my hero.. Like a knight but better. You see his armor?” She nodded. “It’s all dirty because of what he had to do to save me… My friend Anna and I were locked up by some very bad men, and he didn’t like that so he had to kill them. He doesn’t want to be scary and mean but sometimes that’s what has to be done. But he won’t hurt you; we’re just gonna go to sleep here and then in the morning we’ll be gone, okay?”

She seemed to be sorting through questions in her mind as she looked at you. “My father has to kill people. He only kills bad people though, people that want to hurt us.” “Is he fighting in the war right now?” She nodded. “Yes but mama says only for a little while longer, and then he can come home and meet the baby.”

You smiled softly. “What’s the baby’s name?”

“Robert.” “That’s a nice name—“

“It’s my father’s name.” The boy surprised you again, having come out of his room and stood behind you with his arms crossed.

“And your name?”

“Robert.” He furrowed his brows.

“All three of you?” You raised your expression in surprise.

“My name is Beth!” The girl chimed in drawing your attention again.

“Well I should hope so, you look a little too pretty to be named Robert.”

She smiled and bit her tongue to hold back a laugh.

“My name is (Y/n).” Beth’s eyes lit up and she gasped. “That’s my doll’s name!” “Shut up.” Robert said, clearly annoyed at how freely she was speaking to you now. “Take the baby!” She demanded, trying to stand up to hand him off. They argued like siblings until he rolled his eyes and took his baby brother, still glaring at you while Beth ran off to find her doll. “Here she is, (Y/n)! Isn’t she, mama, isn’t she called (Y/n)?!” She showed off her straw doll and the mother nodded at her with a nervous expression.

“Have you got a doll called Anna?” You asked, and Anna smiled. The little girl shook her head and you threw up your hands. “Well we’ll just have to make one then, won’t we?” The three of you raced outside and gathered as much straw as you could, dropped it on the table and crafted little dolls all afternoon. You asked Robert, still holding baby Rob, if he wanted to join you but he sneered. “Dolls are for girls.” “We could make one a soldier, like your father?”

He shook his head and walked away. None of you minded much, though, and you felt true happiness teaching Beth how to give her doll a skirt. You felt like a child again. The mother called for supper and you all cleared the table. You told Beth that she could have her chair back, but she insisted on sitting with you. The two of you shared the same seat, Sandor sat at the head of the table, the son across from you and Anna at your side. The mother went off with her baby into the bedroom to nurse and you tried to ignore the tension between Robert and Sandor as you ate. Beth pulled you by your neck down to whisper loudly in your ear. “He’s better than a knight?” She asked, and you blushed knowing the everyone at the table could hear. You nodded and looked at Sandor, willing him to be kind. Beth hopped off of the chair and brought her dolls to Sandor, holding them out to display. “This is (Y/n) and this is Anna.”

Your nails dug into your palm anxiously and you held your breath waiting for his response. Please be kind, please be kind.

Sandor looked at the sweet little girl’s face, and then at the dolls, taking them in his hands.

“They’re pretty.” He complimented, surprising you. “Can I keep this one?” He asked, pulling the doll with your name close to his chest. Beth quickly tried to snatch the dolls back and said, “No!.. If you want one you can have the one I messed up on.” He gave the dolls back and she rushed over to the living room to offer him the doll with one big arm and one small. “She hasn’t got a name so you can call her whatever.”

“Think I’ll call her Beth.” He nodded and her mouth gaped.

“My arm’s not messed up!” “No, but she’s about as big as you.” He joked and she smiled and skipped back over to your seat. She nodded at you and said quietly. “He’s funny.” “Sometimes.” You agreed, pleased with him.

“And smelly.” You smiled harder. “I think we’re all smelly.”

“Oh Robert, the hole!” Beth cheered, and Robert shook his head. “Yes!” She continued.

Anna and you exchanged curious looks.

“Father said not while he’s away.” “He’s been away, Rob! I’m asking mother.” She defied and ran off to her mom.

“What’s the hole?” You asked. Robert remained silent, glaring in Sandor’s direction.

“If you’re not gonna eat that, boy, you might as well take your sneer somewhere else.” Sandor grabbed meat off Robert’s plate and threw it onto his own.

“She said yes, she said we can go!” Beth came barreling down the hall. “Go where?” You frowned.

“The water hole! It’s not that deep and I can teach you how to swim, I’m really fast.”

“Beth, they’re big. They can just stand up, you idiot.” She stuck her tongue out at her brother and took your hand, and you in turn grabbed Anna’s to follow you. “A-Are you coming, Sandor?” You looked back as you were pulled away. He only looked down at his food. Beth led you for a long while and with each step you grew more and more anxious having left Sandor behind. “How much further is it?” “Just a little bit more.” She assured. Anna seemed to be unbothered, so you tried to relax as well. Finally you saw it. A beautiful pool of blue water crafted by stone. “Father built it when I was still in my mom’s tummy. It’s never cold!” She said excitedly. The little girl practically jumped in the water and eventually convinced you to brave it as well. Your main concern was your dress— you had no other clothes. But when Beth pouted up at you and splashed, you conceded. The two of you pulled Anna in as well and splashed around until the sun was nearly set.

The three of you began your journey back, Beth falling behind until you agreed to carry her on your back. “You think everything is alright back there?” You asked Anna, who gave you a less than convincing nod. As you marched on, you tried to focus on the feeling of the little girl resting on your back. You and your sister were close when she was this young, and it made you want to travel back in time to be with her like this. Or travel forward, you pondered. You considered what it would be like to have a daughter.

Duty would pull you to birth a son, an heir to a noble, and you had truthfully never considered for long the possibility of having a little girl of your own. You remembered your vow to never take another man, and sighed. Maybe in another life. Then you thought harder. You had consummated your marriage to Sandor. You had bled since then, but only for a day— highly unusual for you. Panic began to set in. At last you came upon Beth’s mother, waiting right outside the door with her child asleep in a cloth tied around her torso.

“What’s wrong with her?!” She worried, but you set her daughter down off of your back and she stumbled to find her footing.

“Nothing, she’s tired s’all. Thank you for trusting us, she had a lot of fun, I think…”

Beth rubbed her closed eyes and walked over to take her mother’s hand.

“Is everything alright in there?” You asked nervously.

“Seems to be… Have you got any other clothes?” She looked between Anna and you and you shook your heads shamefully. “Come on then.” She sighed.

She tucked her daughter into a large bed and began to dig through a dresser beside it. “Don’t have anything as nice as that..” she trailed off, and you shivered.

“Dry is all that matters to us.”

She handed you and Anna simple dresses and the two of you went outside to change. When you entered the home again you saw Sandor, bottle still in hand, but he had removed his armor and chainmail. “Must you drink all of her husband’s alcohol? She’s been kind to us…”

“She’s been compliant.” He argued. “Do you think she’d welcome us in if I didn’t have my sword? She’s afraid of us— of me at least.”

“Not everyone is cruel, Sandor.” “Aye, not everyone is cruel. But everyone is looking out for themselves. She’s got a family, she’s not gonna risk that for strangers. Make no mistake about it, it’s not kindness that keeps us in this house.”

Perhaps he was right.

“We’ll leave in the morning, yes?”

He thought for a moment. “Yes. We’ll have another long ride ahead of us…”

He approached you and you tried not to flinch when his hand came up to your face. It wasn’t out of fear, only surprise. His fingers stroked down a small lock of your wet hair right beside your cheek. Is he drunk?

“How was the water?” He asked, fingers lingering by your neck, knuckles barely brushing against your throat. Your eyes were wide at his actions, at the stark change in his tone, but you didn’t want him to stop the sweetness. “It was perfect… You should have come…”

Sandor was so close now that you could smell the booze on his breath but you did not cringe away from it. He tucked your hair behind your ear and laid a heavy hand on your shoulder. He took a step back, took another swig, and smirked. “Look like a proper mother in that dress.”

You smiled, embarrassed. “It’s the dress of a proper mother.” You picked up the sides of the dress and twirled it a bit. “What, you don’t like it? You prefer me dressed like a harlot?”

He took one more step back, smiled and scratched his beard. “Never seen you in anything I didn’t like… except maybe that sack of potatoes.”

You snickered and shoved past him. “Wait.” He grabbed your arm and you stilled. “You said you can keep watch?”

As tired as you were, you were pleased with this new responsibility— this new trust, and so you nodded.

“Keep a watch on that little fucker right there.” He nodded to Robert, who was sat on a chair in the corner, holding a large wooden rolling pin. You tried not to snicker at how serious the little boy looked. “Think he means to bash my skull in.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” You nodded again, and placed your hand over his on your arm. “Get some sleep.”

With that, he swayed off to Robert’s room and you heard the bed sink and creek with the weight of him flopping down on it. Anna started up the fire with fresh wood and the two of you sat up taking turns brushing through each other’s hair. You watched Robert doze off in the corner of your eye and smiled to yourself as the rolling pin dangled in one weak hand. Anna pulled some blankets from a cupboard and made herself a cot on the floor, falling asleep just as quickly as her head hit the ground.

You watched the fire until your eyes burned and then found one of the straw dolls you had made earlier that day. A child. Could it even be possible for you now?

“What are you doing here?” Came a voice, startling you into a gasp. “Gods!” You whispered, relaxing once you laid eyes on the mother. “You scared me…” you let the doll rest again on the table and walked back over to the fire. “I’m just keeping watch..”

“Someone hunting you? The royal guard, perhaps?” You hoped your anxiety didn’t reflect in your expression. “Never can be too careful..”

“That’s The Hound, isn’t it?” She approached, settling into her rocking chair, the baby still swaddled in her arms. “Face half melted… The King’s mad dog, now without a King.”

“You’re mistaken. We’re just passing through… I’m sorry we had to stumble upon you, we’ll be gone in the morning. Your son’s already told me you’re expecting your husband back and we don’t want—”

“My husband isn’t coming back.” She cut you off, eyes glazing over when she cast them to the fire. “He was sick… Getting worse every day. Nothing I knew to do was helping.. Robert left months ago. He said he didn’t want the children to watch him die, weak. So he told the children he was going off to fight in the war. A war that didn’t exist.” You glanced again at Robert to make sure he was still sleeping. She looked behind her at her son and sighed. “He misses his father every day. He’s the man of the house now, acts tough, but I know he’s scared. Today, he was scared… But you have control over him now, don’t you? The Hound?”

You furrowed your brows and shook your head a bit. “Nobody controls anybody.”

“Where are you heading?” You said nothing, only watched the shadow of the flames flicker on the floor.

“You don’t have to leave…” She surprised you. “I don’t want my son to be afraid anymore.” Her voice wavered. “He ought to grow up with a man, a proper man around. We need someone to hunt, to fix things… Beth adores you, I haven’t seen her smile like that in so long.. If you’re running from someone, you’ll be safe here. No one comes around.” She tried to persuade you. “You can settle here..”

You were so caught off guard by this conversation, you didn’t know what to say. She was asking you and Sandor to play house with her family.

“I understand your worries.. as much as I can… I think we have to be moving on though.”

She nodded and the two of you continued to sit in silence deep into the night. At one point, the baby stirred and she began to feed the child from her breast. “Did you know he was sick before you were pregnant?” You asked boldly. “No… He wanted to be in his life, but he got bad fast.. It’s the only time I’ve had to go through it alone. Bringing this baby into the world was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

You nodded. “Your first two were easier?.. Not too painful?”

Her brow furrowed and she smirked. “Oh, very painful… But worth it.”

You nodded again, looking down at your lap.

“I saw the blood in your clothes… Is that what you’re worried about?.. Did he take you?”

You shook your head and smiled softly. “No, no, he… Well, yes.. I don’t know how long it’s been.” You tried to reflect. “I started bleeding long after the last time, but it was different.” “How much blood?” She sat up, more invested in the conversation now.

“Same as always for the first day, but that’s all that it was. It just stopped.”

“Are your breasts sore?”

You shook your head but reached up and squeezed them to ensure you weren’t crazy. “No… I’m hungry though, and my mother said she knew she was going to have my sister when she bled for just a day.”

“Sweetheart, that bleeding is different. It’s very light, very light cramping, and you’re more tired than hungry.”

“Well I have been tired—“

She smiled knowingly and shook her head. “You’re not pregnant… Your bleeding likely stopped from stress, malnutrition.. You’re tired and hungry because you’ve been riding horseback for who knows how long. The Gods only give us what we can handle, child…”

You frowned at her but nodded just to dismiss the conversation. “You seem disappointed..?” She said, but you shook your head again. “Would you want a child?”

“I always knew I was supposed to have one, or two… That was my purpose; marry a nobleman and give him children— raise the standing of my family. It never really mattered if I wanted one or not…” You looked up at her. “After everything I’ve been through my answer should be no. It should be simple. But it isn’t..” you felt your emotions rise. “I think I would.. I think I do… It could be beautiful y’know, to bring something so small and good into this world.”

She nodded. “Would you want his child?”

A tear slipped down your cheek that you hadn’t even realized was brewing and you wiped it away and rolled your eyes at yourself. “It’s not like that anymore.”

“You’re not married?” She asked, and your head snapped right to her. “Did he—“

“He said you were his wife… I didn’t believe him until I saw the way you looked at him just before bed.”

“There is nothing in the way I look him.” You were stern. Never again would you be persecuted for having hearts in your eyes. “As you say.” She didn’t argue and you were grateful. ”You should rest.” You suggested, and she sighed and stood.

“Will you ask him about it? About sticking around?” She paused before rounding the corner into the room with her daughter. You agreed, dismissing her with a wave. When she was gonna you took a deep breath and laid back against the floor, hands on your empty stomach. You considered the safety the home might provide, the charm of the children, and the rest that Sandor and the horses so desperately needed. Maybe one day more.

Sandor watched you from the dark room and sank back down in the bed. It’s not like that anymore, you had said, but it could be, he thought.

[aliteralsemicolon]

what do u think about Maeve as a character and as a love interest for Spencer?

Well she definitely exists. She was definitely a canon love interest 😐 I choose to forget a lot of details from that whole incident on purpose. Talking about this is just beating a dead horse bc I think my opinion is just a general consensus.

but here's what I think anyway:

The storyline

I won't talk about it for long because I feel like it's obvious, but the whole situation was handled so poorly. It kinda just showed up out of no where on one random peaceful day. What do you mean Maeve didn't want Spencer to get the BAU involved because 'it could endanger him'? Babe, he's already in danger just by being in a relationship with you, but I guess that just doesn't fucking matter. Also, what the fuck do you mean that Spencer just went along with it? I'm sorry? Spencer Reid, who becomes very impulsive when it comes to the wellbeing of his loved ones? He just agreed to sit back? Not even investigate in his free time?! By the time ZUGZWANG happens, we as viewers know how the BAU operates. The BAU was more than equipped to successfully deal with Diane. We know what they're supposed to do in a stalker situation, but for some reason they ignore nearly every goddamn protocol and then they're surprised when Maeve dies??

Maeve as a character

Listen, I don't dislike her because she was Spencers love interest. I'm actually somebody who's very keen on love interests for Spencer. I want that poor man to be happy. I dislike Maeve because she's one of the worst recurring characters on the show. She's very morally annoying. Not grey, annoying. Maeve is a geneticist. Geneticists, for the most part, study gene interactions and evolution. She has no fucking business diagnosing and prescribing shit from one look at an MRI scan. I don't even wanna talk about how medically inaccurate the migraine bit of the storyline is. Somehow it gets dumber. I don't know what she said for sure, but I know for a fact that she said something like she had to get to know Spencer because of how interesting he seemed. FROM HIS MRI SCANS?! Are we ignoring how unethical this is? Please, I cannot fucking do this. But there's more. Apparently she loves Spencer. She says as much at the end of a phone call AND literally writes that one love quote in the Narrative of John Smith for him. She loves Spencer, but fails to mention how she was engaged literally not long before she met him. And she doesn't feel an ounce of guilt or sadness when he ex-fiancé (whom she also supposedly loved) gets shot in the head in front of her? Also there's certain times where she just comes off as very emotionally manipulative, but in the dumbest way possible. The thing is that I don't even hate her because she's like this. Some of these things actually give the character potential to become a really interesting and complex character. It's because she tries to come across as the opposite. The writers try very hard to portray her as an intelligent, good and innocent character, but everything she does is very selfish and stupid. Personally, if I was a geneticist and some fucker reached out to me to ask about his MRI scans I would redirect him to a fucking neurologist or something.

Maeve as Spencer's love interest

She's introduced to us a mysterious woman over the payphone. We get glimpses of her body in a dark room and we watch her fiddle with things while walking around, but we don't actually get to see her face until later. Her voice is meek and sultry. If this sounds like some wattpad introduction then that's because that's literally what it is. Maeve is introduced to us in a very Y/N esc way. The whole relationship is very much wattpad story written by a 14YO back in the day. Wait I take that back, even fucking 14YO's writer better shit. At least their stories were worth ruining your sleep schedule for. I can't even be upset, Maeve is literally not the first female character portrayed this way on the show *cough* Jane Seaver *cough*. MGG didn't want Spencer to have a love interest so Maeve was written to die. I just wish they at least tried to do the characters and the story justice. Viewers couldn't even connect to Maeve because she was just thrown at us one day and then literally killed a second later. Even if she wasn't unlikable I find it very hard to imagine that I would've cared about her death, because I literally had no time to bond with the character. It's also just very awkward when she shows up after her death because I feel disconnected with Spencer's emotions. Mentally, I know that she's his first great love or whatever, but emotionally, I do not give a fuck. She does not match Spencer's freak. What she is, essentially, is a female version of Spencer (but through the male gaze because she's a woman so ofc she's slightly dumber and Y/Nified). Spencer is one of the most complex established characters on the show and Maeve as a partner for him is just very boring. And even if she's was interesting, I PERSONALLY FEEL LIKE the actors have no chemistry together. He's had more chemistry with love interests that lasted for a way shorter period than he does Maeve. Ironically, the most chemistry he has is with the one person he despises the most (Cat Adams) and I think that speaks volumes. God, I wish so badly that they utilised the bar tender he did a magic trick for or the forensic scientist in that bombing episode.

Again, I'm pretty sure most of the fandom feels this way. I'm fairly confident that I might have more to say, but I cannot be bothered anymore.

[terapsina]

Shoutout to the temporary ships that were created with the intention of getting in the way of the intended ship but that I actually liked way more than the ship the writers were trying to get me to root for.

(a.k.a I kinda get a bit salty on this one)

---

1. Laurel and Tommy - Arrow

As soon as they got introduced I felt the feeling of doom. Because they were so immediately adorable and full of chemistry. I loved them from the word go even though it was so clear they were going toward a Laurel and Oliver resolution (and then to add insult to injury they changed their minds on that, but Tommy was taken from Laurel anyway).

---

2. Clara and Danny - Doctor Who

It's up for debate if Clara's relationship with the Doctor was meant to be romantic-coded or not (I personally prefer it as 'not' but they really were very fuzzy with the lines) but either way Danny was still used as the threat that might separate them. And that was really annoying for me because I liked Clara and Danny so much. And then they killed him (which is a scene that still tears my heart to pieces).

---

3. Cordy and Doyle - Angel: The Series

They were short and sweet and I enjoyed them (and though the Cordy and Angel thing wasn't really a thing at the time, there were some signs that it was on the writers' minds... and I wasn't a fan). And then they killed Doyle (...I might have to rename this post to 'killing off the love interests I actually enjoyed to give way to the ships I didn't').

---

4. Rachel and Joey - F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

This ship went past my notice when I watched the show as a kid (my entire obsession rested on Monica and Chandler) but after rewatching as an adult I actually really liked their potential. It might have come up a bit unexpectedly but there really was something quite genuine about it (and Rachel deserved so much better than Ross). I wish they hadn't ended it as such a joke.

---

5. Worf and Troi - Star Trek: The Next Generation

They were created with the sole intention of getting in the way of Troi and Riker. But I liked them better. I just found them more interesting.

---

6. Tamsin and Bo - Lost Girl

They were more fun to watch than Bo and Lauren, had better chemistry and I just enjoyed them a lot more ('and then you see you' living in my head rent free for years now). But instead they gave Tamsin the short end of the stick and used her as a stepping stone (in so many ways, genuinely, even past shipping they just never gave that Valkyrie a single break... and then killed her in the most insulting way possible, because of course they did).

---

7. Wynonna and Dolls - Wynonna Earp

Talk about chemistry. Season 1 of that show was so good and I really did fool myself into thinking this was where they were heading but no, of course not (I should have learned my lesson about Emily Andras after she killed off Hale on Lost Girl). How is an old dude with a gross mustache more interesting than a literal dragon? The answer as far as I'm concerned... they're not (now guess if they killed him off. Guess!).

---

8. Lucy and Flynn - Timeless

A tragic love story happening in the wrong order and out of time because he meets her when he needs something to hold on to and she gives him a crusade. And she meets him while he's zealously following that crusade and thinks he's just a terrorist? Dude. But no, apparently the happy ending is supposed to be the guy that wanted the cake and to eat it too (sometimes I genuinely boggle at how the writers just will not notice when they've hit gold and instead go on beating that dead horse even more to death (and yup, somehow manage to kill the gold)) .

9. Dutch and Johnny - Killjoys.

(First I have to say that I still recommend this show a 100% and this is just quibble of a shipper at heart) But how is it that when you build the whole series around the heart of this relationship, you still end up using Johnny as a brief stop point (a la basically a Married!AU) before you put Dutch back with his brother? Like, yes, they're each other's best friends and always will be but people that are in love can be each other's ride or die best friends too.

---

10. Mel and Abigael - Charmed (2018)

Alright, Mel went through the intended love interests like candy (and I liked most of them well enough) but Abby was the one that intrigued me the most, so it was a great shame that she was never properly Mel's love interest at all and more enemy/antagonist/ally/friend with mostly one-sided feelings for Mel (enemies to friends to lovers was RIGHT THERE).

[nanamimizz]

tags: written for @ravengards-rogue / gn!reader/ abigail and john are coparenting jack and are not together / drinking and smoking / set in ch.4 after jack’s return. let me know if i missed something

Jack has returned and the gang is in full swing. The fire is golden than red, and the singing is drowned by the natural sounds of the buoy. You rest on the outskirts of the house letting the taste of your cigarette rest on your teeth as you cough with each exhale.

“Not the best smoker, are you?” John’s voice rings out, cutting through the croaking of frogs. It makes you turn, eyes watering and you wincing when the smoke goes down the wrong pipe. John laughs, a raspy thing but it makes your burn all the same. You suck your teeth and curse under your breath before turning away from him.

“Not one of my talents, I am afraid.” You call back, not looking at him lest he lulls you into his spell unknowingly with his scarred features. The damp ground gives away his movements and he is right next to you, his arm to your shoulder and his head looking down at you. You feel the two pin points of his eyes focused on your face in the cool moonlight.

“What are you doing out here?” John asks you with his voice soft, low and deep - the one he uses when it’s just you and him. The one that lulls you and makes your heart race despite you never wanting to admit it, especially yourself.

“I could ask you the same thing - you should be with your son and Abigail. Not here with me.” You can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice even if you wanted to. Some part of you feels embarrassed, it’s not like you to be so unveiled. Especially when it comes to John, who looks at you with some sort of wildness that cannot be contained in the walls of civil society and fatherhood. John’s hand, bigger and scarred, comes into your view, you let it pluck the cigarette from your hand with the grace he only has to reload his pistols ; you watch as he takes a long drag and blows it away from your face.

“Look at me.” He says and you obey with unusual, limp submissiveness and you don’t raise your eyes to see the small smug smirk on John’s face at your pout.

“I should be…but every time I’m with them I think of you anyways.”

“Shut up - that ain’t funny.” You hiss at him, pout pulling back to show your teeth as you go to take your cigarette back. John is quick and has always been more agile than you - it’s how he gets his arm to wind around your shoulders and can tug you back to the direction of the golden light. His hand is warm, burning through the surprisingly cold air this night and you turn golden in the camp’s firelight. Some people call your name as you pass by them cheering, drunk and stupid.

“The boy is my son, you know that but Abigail ain’t my woman. Me and her ain’t gonna beat a dead horse especially when I got you. So don’t go running off like that again, you stay with me the rest of the night, you hear?” He tells you his voice pressed to your ears and you feel your indignation fade away with each step you take with him. A part of you hates how easily John can disarm your defenses but he would not be as feared as he is if he could not do so. It makes you nod almost obediently and it makes him chuckle in your ear - even bold enough to press a kiss to your cheek that makes a few members at camp hoot and holler over Javier’s singing. He sits you down next to him, you can hear Jack playing and you even smile as he waves at you excitedly. It brings a smile to your face as you wave back until Abigail comes into your view and graces you with a smile and a wave of her own - one that reassures you entirely. You feel a nudge at your shoulder and turn to see John looking at you softly.

“There's that pretty smile I missed.” You laugh, loudly like the rest of them and roll your eyes.

“Oh shut it Marston.” The fondness coats your tongue like syrup and the embers dance in John’s eyes, it’s easy to see them as stars instead.

“Only if you make me, my darling.”

[whilmsy]

hello miners and crafters it’s me silly guy back with another scar post <3 this is heavily inspired by and written for the beloved @stiffyck and their double life art of green scar meeting himself as a red life! i am very normal about him <3

-

In a dream-like world, Scar awakens. It’s nothing dramatic: a soft huff of the exhale that leaves his lips, feeling distant and there all the same. There is no fear, no dread; what there is, is a forest.

Trees wind and loom above him, adding to the unsettling feeling that sits heavy in his chest as the night stretches far and wide in the sky above. The moon is small. It’s obvious that something or someone had passed through earlier, because there are tracks that mark the ground, both horse and human. Quietly, with a frown on his face and a furrow of eyebrows, Scar glances at the world around him. It doesn’t take him any time at all to know that he’s never seen this place before.

A cold dread crawls down his spine, he feels watched.

Maybe it’s a prank? The thought comes suddenly as soon as he realises his heart starts beating a little faster, as if trying to keep himself from panicking makes him panic more. It has to be a prank, it has to be; but Scar looks down, and he doesn’t remember ever wearing something like this.

The outfit he wears is… well, it seems like something he would wear - he guesses so, anyway. It’s a cream coloured shirt that’s buttoned up and a green bandana tied up on his right arm, dark cargo pants and a satchel that crosses over from his left shoulder and rests against his hip.

Weird, he muses, but not the worst thing that’s happened to him.

Then, Scar looks back up again, and someone else stands in front of him, leaning against a tree.

They look eerily familiar, too familiar.

Green eyes meet red eyes, and Scar realises this:

They look familiar because it’s him.

He doesn’t know if seeing himself from another perspective is better or worse.

It couldn’t be easier to know it was him, he’s seen his reflection enough times to know that it is. But as the figure takes slow steps forward, something akin to dread grabs his heart and squeezes it. For a moment as he watches, Scar thinks his heart stops in his chest. This version of himself has vibrant red eyes that gleam with a familiar sense of losing control and giving in to the blood-shed, and that makes him feel cautious; he’s never seen himself as red, but Scar knows what his mind is like when he is red.

This version of himself grins in a way that makes Scar feel a prickle of danger and he finally understands what other players of these games mean when they talk about him being unhinged as soon as he hits red. This red eyed image of himself is paler, wearing a black shirt that stays unbuttoned (Scar is not, at all, surprised by this) with a red heart embroidered on the front (a warning and foolishly brave: a warning of red and bloodshed, foolish in a cry of I can die at any given moment), and darker pants. The boots they both wear are the same, although his red state has boots that are stained with ash, dirt and blood.

And as they move closer, Scar feels that cold dread turn into an icy fear when he notices more about the person walking towards him.

His red life is covered in old cuts and bandages that look useless with the way they wrap too tightly around his arms, hands and neck, and he prays silently that he doesn’t know what they’re for. (Scar can see the faint bite marks on his red self’s neck as they cock their head to the side. His attempt at remaining calm ends with him feeling grief, and he knows that anguish is soon to flood his every thought.) There are new explosion scars, he notices silently, and he dreads it. His four ears are torn and cut at the edges, he dreads that too; they’re something he’s prideful of, he thinks he wants to cry just seeing it on this version of himself.

This version of himself looks dead, and Scar didn’t realise he could ever feel more scared of himself than he is in this moment. Sure, he’s had those red thoughts that stick around when the games are over, and it’s a little scary, but actually seeing himself as the thing he’s so numb to when it actually happens is… he thinks he’s allowed to be scared, in a way.

Scar has never seen what he’s like as a red, he’s lived it; there’s a difference. The difference is that you lose yourself, you lose who you are and you feel numb and the only time you remember really, truly, feeling absolute heart soaring joy is when there is blood on your hands and you are the one spilling it.

“Yeah,” the red life says - bringing him back from his thoughts - as if Scar’s panic is something they were waiting for, “you’ll get used to it eventually.” It sounds exhausted in a way, that sense of having given up long ago.

Scar doesn’t like it.

“No, I don’t-”

“Don’t what?” They bite back, emotionless. “Nothing you think to do will change this. It’ll happen either way.” The figure laughs hauntingly, unhinged. “You’ll still die, and Grian will still scream at you like that’ll do something to help.”

They both know the red life said the wrong thing with the way they grimace, with the way the tension drains and yet grows back stronger.

“…Grian’s with us?..” There is a shocked tone to the question, hopeful, and the man with the green bandana wrapped around his arm watches in real time as his red life’s expression grows from apathetic and into something more angry.

“It would’ve been better if he wasn’t. He barely sticks around anyway.” The red life sounds bitter and so incredibly sad and it all gets balled up into one emotion: anger. Their hands - bitten and scratched and covered in bandages - curl up into fists. “It would’ve been so much better if he didn’t just drag us along with him.”

Scar seems to shrink in on himself for a moment before remembering, again, that this is him. Softer, gentler, he says, “Maybe he was just scared,” because he knows that’s probably true. He knows that people react differently in different situations, has teamed up with Grian before; he knows Grian.

There is a huff of frustration from in front of him, and in a sudden sense of panic, Scar takes a step back; he has no idea where he is, and yet he wants to run from this blood thirsty version of himself very, very suddenly.

A hand grasping his left arm tightly dismisses that idea very, very quickly.

“Grian doesn’t care.” The red life version of himself hisses spitefully, says every word slowly - makes sure to drive home the idea of that sentence. There is an underlying sense of pain in their tone. Scar slowly feels the blood flow to his hand lessening. “I bet you that right now he’s off frolicking with that secret soulmate of his.” It doesn’t make any sense to him. His mirror image grimaces, eyes shining dangerously; Scar doesn’t know if it’s bloodlust or tears. “Grian doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t care about us.” Quieter, as if like a flame that is put out but keeps the remains still painfully warm, the red name says, “Grian only stays when it’s an obligation. They all do.”

Despite the fact that it rings true in his mind, Scar still knows it isn’t entirely true, isn’t numbed by an apathetic, blood-lusting red, but it still feels bitterly like denial. He says, “No-”

“You really think so?” The other version of himself asks, gripping Scar’s arm tighter when he tries pulling it away. “What about the first game?” desert sand and a home built from sandstone, trying and failing to avoid heatstroke, “The second one?” snow-capped mountains that echoed lonely lonely lonely, an enchanter and his lives being his best bet for someone to show up. “In one, Grian stayed because he killed you on accident. In the other, he couldn’t care less. He said it himself: The past doesn’t matter. He won’t bother to stick around if he doesn’t owe you something. Don’t get your hopes up for something that never lasts. It won’t be your gifts that he cherishes, but I think we both know that.”

Scar thinks of lilacs and poppies and he thinks yes he would, he would cherish them, he does- he did, he did he did he did he did. But then he thinks of that second game, of how Grian couldn't wait to take his life and flee with it. He doesn't like this.

There is something so painfully understanding in his reflection’s reaction, something that Scar both craves and hates, because it’s pity; as much as Scar wants to be understood and cared for, it hurts that it’s himself that’s being the person to do it. In a softer, pain-filled tone, as they move their head closer to his ear - still gripping his arm, although he’d already given up on trying to free himself from the red - they ask, “You see it now, don't you?”

Scar doesn’t give a verbal or physical response, frozen.

A moment of respite, the seconds of silence feel like everything and nothing; too much and yet too little. It feels weirdly like dissociating: his head empty of any thought or emotion he knows he should be feeling, despite knowing he feels weirdly numb and not all there. Maybe he is, just for a moment. He doesn’t yet realise that the hand gripping his arm tightly in place let's go, the blood flowing properly again and his hand looking more like his.

Those are his excuses for being the reason why he asks, “Do we have friends this time?” He hopes that neither of them can hear the longing in his tone, hopes that they both ignore how naive the question is.

“…We have some allies.” There is an obvious lie in the answer, they’re lying about something; what exactly, Scar isn’t sure of. It’s not a proper answer, not even a yes, and that makes the gaping void in his chest called loneliness grow larger, agonisingly slowly.

Scar laughs bitterly. “Better than last time.” Better than nothing stays unsaid. The red life in front of him echoes that same laughter, nodding in agreement. They seem to want to say something.

“You could put it that way, but… we did have someone. I think we did. I hope so, otherwise we really need to learn how allies and friends work.” They move back slightly, not taking a large step, but they move back enough that Scar doesn’t feel like he’s cornered anymore.

He doesn’t say anything in response, and so they keep talking, it’s the furthest away from that red apathy that they’ve seemed the entire time, and slowly that fear of his red self lessens. “It’s Pearl,” they say simply, soft in a way Scar knows he is when he’s red; when it’s a gentle care about llama’s and bee’s - about the little things that are so absolutely useless in the world where you fight for your life, but so important to him because it gives him that sense of comfort. “She…she’s a good friend.”

There isn’t much information to go off, but he guesses that it makes sense in the bigger picture - probably not the best to know how everything goes before it starts, it might just cause more problems than what has, probably, already been set in stone. Vaguely, Scar tries to argue with his own thoughts; surely this can’t be real, right? This is some sort of sick dream that his mind has made up just for him. Surely this is a sad, sad hell of his own creation.

Distrustful, marked by the previous game like a shattered glass-stained window, Scar asks, “She doesn’t betray us?” Because it is so, so hard to believe it’s true. Above them, the night is slowly beginning to fade into dawn.

“You believe me anyway,” the red life answers knowingly, and the expression on their face says it all; the glint in their red eyes has faded to a softer, calmer glimmer. They continue speaking. “We both know how bad we want it, and it’s hard to believe it, but….even when Grian doesn’t want us around, Pearl does, even if she’s a bit unpredictable - so are we.” Scar knows that tone, knows the way his heart aches when he’s left behind, knows the way his heart soared when they left that world behind; he knows the tone that they speak in, and it’s something in between those two emotions.

Of being left behind, but not being entirely alone.

The smile on his red self’s face seems to fade entirely again, leaving a more.. calmer expression; sad, but at peace with it. Guilty, almost. “I’m sorry you have to find out this way,” they say smoothly as the sun continues rising through the trees, and the way they say have instead of had settles wrongly on his skin. Because Scar doesn’t want to learn this. He wants to wake up from this dream-like world. Wants to wake up from this nightmare and start his day shakily and work so hard on building that he doesn’t have to remember this dream. “But,” they continue, and Scar hopes they don’t realise how trapped in his own thoughts he is, “the only time Grian cares is when it keeps him alive.”

There is a second of silence, there are hands pulling him closer and for the first time since he’s been here, Scar doesn’t flinch when the red version of himself pulls him close and-

And hugs him. They pull him in, arms cradling him close as if to hold him together - a way Scar likes to be hugged, because it’s grounding, a pressure. They hug him, and the sun shines brightly in his eyes, and they say, “I’m sorry that you’ll see it soon enough.”

And-

And the world changes.

There is a pressure holding him close, and then there is nothingness. The trees of the forest he was in, in that dream world, are gone, and Scar hates to admit that his breath is shaky and stuttering at the sudden change when he opens his eyes.

He misses that warmth, even if that version was deader than him, he misses that hug. Which is… embarrassing to think of, because that was a version of himself that hugged him and it’s this whole thing then, and-

And there’s a green bandana on his arm, and a satchel by his waist and-

“Scar?”

And there is a mark on his forearm, where he was grabbed and it still tingles, similar to pins and needles-

“Scar? Hello? Anyone in there?”

His gaze finally breaks from staring at the handprint left of his arm, forcing himself to stop analysing the faint red mark left behind and forcing his gaze up and-

It’s Pearl.

Of course it would be Pearl.

Something makes him feel sick to his stomach, something foreboding and knowing.

“Well, hello there!” Scar says cheerily, a forced smile on his face and his eyes tightly shut in an attempt to really pull off the act. He looks at Pearl, and he realises that it’s not just the two of them.

There are more people, an even number of people that have been in previous games. He looks at Grian, Grian looks at him, and Scar hopes he doesn’t break eye contact too quickly.

The excited conversations fade to silence as Pearl asks him something again, but he can’t hear what she’s saying when he’s too caught up in the idea that everyone is looking at him, and he doesn't like the familiar sense of being watched.

His heart beats hurriedly, thumping much too fast for him, and he pretends that he’s still listening to whatever Pearl is saying.

“Hm? Oh! I’m fine.” Scar replies to a question he doesn’t properly hear, showing too much teeth in a too strained grin. Fake, Fake, Fake. There is a ghost of a hand that tightens around his arm, he pushes through. “Excited to see where this game goes!” He’s so quick to fall into that familiar act, that scheme, that teasing, that unpredictability. “Jimmy, it will be nice knowing you.” He says mournfully, teasing.

“Excuse me?!” Jimmy shouts, falling right into Scar’s easily planned trap; Scar laughs loudly, and everyone else joins in as he attempts to argue back. It’s easy to fall into that, something they all know, something to change what they’re focusing on.

He knows Pearl’s still looking at him, knows that Grian is still looking at him; but as long as the mask stays on, no one needs to know.

And soon enough, when a Warden shrieks and his last shared life shatters as his ears ring dangerously loudly, Scar drops from his horse, and he’s too exhausted to cry when he realises the forest he’s in where his last life fades from him is painfully familiar. It’s funny that he wasn’t the reason that they lost their last life, that he didn’t die from heartbreak.

[atrophiedemotion]

hey Cast! uh so this ask is about. alien stage. but imma send you another about some random shit because why not. anyways

the tags that you had on that previous post with me and plip (the one about ivan and till and how they show honesty differently and how we know about their characters a different amount because of how forthcoming or not they are) and my question for you is, how many of Ivan's actions do you think are representative of his true emotions? I don't think his body language, in general, is very forthcoming but I do agree that his actions can be pretty revealing (he strikes me as an acts of service person especially with trying to escape with Till) but uh yeah I'm wondering if there are any specific examples that you think of as being revealing of his actual thoughts or specific examples of him pretending to be someone else?

thanks for listening to me yap uh I hope you're doing well and that you have an awesome day!

rock... oh boy... this is gonna be a long one. wonderful question. thank you for the ask, i hope you have a great day as well!!

so, i didn't fully explain in the tags because i didn't want to write a full length essay on plip's post (ty plip for dealing w the rambling)(i was also very tired so i wasn't fully articulate lmao) but i meant that ivan shows his emotions through the outcomes/projected outcomes of his actions. he certainly isn't very forthcoming in the way he acts and portrays himself, but there is undeniable truth in the intent and meaning behind everything he does, even things that seem counterproductive.

i think that since ivan genuinely cannot fully be upfront and honest (due to trauma, his lack of self worth, and his decided survival strategy) his main truths show in the deeper meaning of the things he does for other people and himself. with ivan, it is all about intent. i've said before that the only way to understand ivan is to dig deeper and this is very much true here. he uses a lot of subterfuge to throw people off from his actual intentions, but they're there.

ivan often uses unconventional, roundabout ways to achieve his goals/get what he wants- especially when they mean something to him. he is a guy who is caked in layers upon layers of meaning only if you pull back the acres of curtains he's covered them with. he doesn't want people to know what goes on in his head, so he covers it up valiantly. this is due to his low self esteem of course, but also full on survival. in order for his plans to work, no one can be in on it. no one can know what he's thinking. all of his true feelings and thoughts need to be hidden in order to achieve success, but in the end it's fucking hard to not leave a trace of your true feelings.

with all that being said, examples!

the biggest and most obvious examples are mainly related to till (of course they are) and i also feel like they're the most telling. ivan's teachers specifically pointed out that he was only childish around till (they were relieved by it, too, because he was so damn serious the rest of the time and didn't behave like a child should). ivan has the hardest time hiding his true emotions around till, which makes sense, because till makes him feel the most emotion when his are always dulled. that doesn't stop him from going the 'i must hide my crush by pulling his pigtails' route but, y'know.

since most of these are talked about frequently and i dont want to keep beating a dead horse in an already long post, here's a (hopefully) brief list:

-the biggest one, the meteor shower. going through all of that to escape with till, specifically during a meteor shower that it seemed ivan was desperate to show till (to introduce his shooting stars to each other or smth im sure). ivan offered till freedom and denied himself of it when till turned around and he followed him back without question.

-his good behavior can arguably be considered to be due, in part, to the perks an obedient pet gets. this isn't just a till thing but ivan's obedience is very telling of his need and drive for survival, which considering his uhh,, track record is likely largely so he can protect till. gaining perks and learning insider information, like how to take collars off and gain access to isolation cells, assist him in assisting and caring for till.

-the sometimes silent companionship they share. the way ivan will poke at him to get his outright attention but is still at times satisfied with just existing in till's space and enjoying his presence says a lot about his genuine adoration and admiration of till

-his sacrifice. i don't think i need to say much about this as it's pretty self explanatory lmao but it is a Great example of what im trying to convey. ivan does honest things and has to cover them up at the same time. the 'violence' was to end the round of course, but it was also kind of like a familiar bandaid over the painfully honest feelings he conveyed with the kiss. even if he didn't really hurt him he couldn't just be honest

there are definitely more (most everything he does in regards to till tbh) but i wanted to talk about some others too

the comic conversation with sua about her sacrifice! such a big one. ivan's feelings about sua are very complicated, but to me i feel like he cares about her to an extent, almost pitying in a way. he's horribly jealous of her and the love she has, but he sees so much of himself in her that what he says in that conversation is probably at least half projection, even if he's not aware of it.

the way he looks at her without trying to hide his distaste feels like the way he would look down on himself. the whole thing shows not only his disgust with himself, but his anger towards someone who is so similar to him that she makes the same plans in her head even though she has something he believes he'll never have. it's envy, tried and true, and he doesn't even hide it at the time. he hides the self loathing behind it, but still. that might be the most honest we've seen ivan aside from the end of r6.

that conversation also does kind of show the fact that he cares for sua and mizi. sua in a way he acknowledges less to himself, but certainly mizi.

and speaking of mizi, my last example for right now is the way he watched round 5 like he was barely holding it together and sort of did his own recreation of it in round 6. the strangling was reminiscent of the way mizi lunged at luka and he almost certainly got the idea for his method of sacrifice from what she did. it kind of feels like an ode to her, in a way. an ode to mizi while offering himself up for till, which. is very sad but almost a little sweet, that he had a piece of mizi in what he was doing for till.

okay okay im sure i could keep talking about this but ive been writing for. a long time LMAO so i will stop here but! yeah. ivan shows his emotions inadvertently through his actions and about fifty levels of subterfuge. but it's all we get, so...

thank you for the ask again my dude, i really enjoyed answering it!

[latent-thoughts]

I keep thinking about that post about Loki possibly returning for Avengers 5 and Secret Wars, and while mainly I'm rolling my eyes and internally screaming "please, no more", a part of me is bitterly laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Like, really?? How many "one more time"s does he need? How many "one more time"s do they need to do the same thing over and over to him? Have they not sent their message about how they all feel about him, loud and clear?

I also keep thinking about Tom's quotes in the article. He says, "Loki is a splendid torch which I've got hold of for the moment".... but didn't the show already make it painfully clear that Loki was out and Sylvie was in? That Loki was lame and Sylvie is bigger better badder, yadda yadda yadda? Why do we need a rehash of that? Are they going to literally have a "torch passing" ceremony, where Loki passes a torch to Sylvie (except he stumbles and falls and immediately starts crying, of course!)?

And he also says, "and I want to make it burn as brightly as I can before passing it on to future generations".... but wasn't the show supposed to be the end-all beat-all of Loki and the extent of his powers? What could be better than Loki bound up in a tree for all eternity, alone, exiled, isolated, and crying, keeping that tree watered forever with his never-ending stream of tears? Is Tom secretly implying that the ending of the series actually sucked? Would he DARE to do that?!?! Wouldn't anything else be an insult to the brilliance and creativity and hard work that was The Ending Of That Show?? And also, is he really so naive to think that any writer or director would actually allow HIS Loki to even be a fraction as powerful as we all know Loki is supposed to be?? Oh Tom, please!!!

Sorry for the sarcasm overdose, but I'm just so done. It's comic relief to me now. I don't think anything they could do could make me care again. (But the sad thing is, I WANT to care again! 😭) They are just beating a decomposing corpse of a dead horse now. But I will say, it is interesting that he said "for future generations", seemingly implying the next torch bearer will be younger? Sylvie Di Martino, or whatever her name is, is not that young. I think she's at least dragging 35 behind her on a trailer hitch, so maybe they will bring on Kid Loki? I wouldn't really care either way, but at least Kid Loki would give me some kind of peace. I will NEVER call Sylvie Loki. NEVER. Not after how obnoxious they all were about her. The writers/directors had a chance to build a bridge with the Loki fandom, but they burned it instead. So, no.

Well, anyway, Avengers 5 is a long time away. There's no script, no director, and even after that it will probably undergo at least 2 years of rewrites, so we have a long time to not think about it.

And God bless you if you actually made it through all of this!! I wish you all the best, and love and comfort and peace @latent-thoughts !

❤️❤️❤️

I feel ya, Anon. *HUGS*

Also, I've stopped reading or listening to anything Tom says these days. He's nothing like the Tom of 10-12 yrs ago, which I mourn. Because he seems to have forgotten everything about Loki from that time, including every detail and input he himself put into Loki. It's like he has been supplanted by a Disney-Marvel bot. 😔

Whatever they'd do with Loki in future, I know it's not going to be good. I had some hope prior to the series, but it was crushed in the end. Loki isn't the Loki he used to be from the 2011-2013 era, he's unrecognisable. I just call him Larry in my head.

Hence, I'm done with Marvel now (I assume most of his original fans are as well). They can keep announcing that Loki will be in their future projects, because he's their cash cow, but we're disillusioned and over it.

Personally, I'm simply bunking in the 2011-2013 era. The fics are good there. And my imagination is limitless. 🥹

~Latent-Thoughts

[wishingforatypewriter]

October 20: Sweet + Emotional Angst

Written (late again) for Day 20 of @orangepanic's Whumptloktober. This one is a short Jarper oneshot that didn't quite want to work with me, but I may revisit this idea later.

Jargala Omo had become accustomed to a few Triple Threats hanging around the Platinum Pool Hall on any given day. It was an annoyance to be sure, but one she accepted as a sign of a healthy alliance. But the sheer number of them crowded around the bar and billiards tables on this particular afternoon raised questions. 

She approached Shin and Mushi at a pool table where the latter was just finishing a turn. 

“Did the cops raid your base or something?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“No, Viper's just being even more insufferable than usual,” Shin said. 

Well, that tracked. “Any particular reason why, or is he just being an ass?”

“He’s always an ass,” Shin quipped, and you weren’t gonna catch Jargala arguing otherwise.

 A beat later Mushi asked, “Did you get a chance to read the paper this morning?”

“The ostrich horse races?” She wondered idly how much money he had to have lost to put him in such a bad mood. 

“No, the obituaries,” Mushi said. “His old man died in prison yesterday.”

Jargala did all she could to keep the surprise from showing on her face. She’d been under the impression that all his relatives were long dead. “I take it he was connected.” 

“He ran the Red Monsoons for a decade after Yakone got busted. They did a whole story on it in the Gazette.” 

“Good to know,” Jargala said with a shrug. “I have to head out for an errand. Just make sure your people don’t drink my bar dry.” 

She pretended not to notice the knowing glance the two men exchanged as she walked towards the front door.

Jargala arrived at the Triple Threats’ headquarters half an hour later with her most expensive bottle of Si Wong tequila. When she knocked on the door to Viper’s office, she was met by the beginning of a tirade she imagined had been repeated an inordinate number of times that day. 

“What part of fuck off do you useless bastards not understand? The next time one of you dumb fucks knock on this door I’m gonna—”

Jargala walked through the door, closing it behind her, and took a seat on the edge of his desk as though she’d been invited in. 

“You could have called first,” he grumbled, still clearly cross, but far less venomous than before. 

“Didn’t feel like it.” Jargala opened the tequila and took a long swig before passing him the bottle. 

He shook his head at her, but still took it. “It’s barely fucking noon.” 

She shrugged. “We can pour some out for your dad.” 

Viper sighed. “Look, I don’t know who told you what, but that bastard wasn’t worth a drop of sewer sludge. Let alone your imported shit.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” Jargala said, crossing one leg over the other. 

“And you’re not getting one.” 

“Good. I didn’t want to hear it, anyway. Now, drink or pass the bottle back.” 

“Is your pops a good one, sweetness?” he asked instead, still glancing at the tequila in his hand. 

“The best there is,” she replied. “He deserves a much better daughter than me.” 

“Let’s drink to him, then, and let Aklaq rot.”

Jargala nodded, knowing better than to ask why. “And his Red Monsoons along with him.”

[acescorazon]

Can you do cross guild x reader with a devil fruit power that basically makes them immortal with near instant regeneration( like ban from sds) and they forget to tell them Please

Hi ik this is late. i'm sorry and you can def beat my ass if you want just don't be mad :(((( i was on hiatus and being stinky :(((( ily MUAH. DONT be mad. ANYWAYS. i've never seen SDS but fuck it we ball.

Title: Whoopsies

Pairing: Fem Reader x Cross guild

Rating: PG..?

Word count: 3112

Warnings: a LITTLE bit of violence, that's all folks.

Summary (it's actually an Excerpt ...shhh) :

Due to the brief distraction, You end up making a foolish, rookie mistake at that very moment. One that in any other situation you wouldn’t have made, and proving that Mihawk was truly right, that you’re never too good of a fighter to avoid any or all injury. A sharp stinging sensation spread across the front of your body, something that you couldn’t quite comprehend at the moment and the next thing you knew you’re body was hitting the ground with a heavy thud and concerned screams echoed all around you.

Even in your earlier days as a pirate, when you were relatively unknown and your bounty was insignificant at best, life still presented formidable challenges for you. You remained vigilant at all times though, uncertain of who might be lurking around the corner. The marines could apprehend you at any moment or a rival group of pirates could launch an unexpected attack, and if neither of those things got you, something like a sea king or even the ocean itself could and would. Yes, being a pirate is terrifying at best and down right tragic at worst, yet over time you craved more excitement.

Maybe that’s why you were dead set on joining Cross Guild. It was never about the fame or publicity, or even the power that came with joining such a notorious group of pirates. What you wanted was the thrill of it all: You desperately needed to go on more adventures, find more treasures, and fight stronger foes, and those were all things you were able to do once you joined said group.

Luckily the process of joining the group was fairly simple: you just had to hunt down one of the marines that had a bounty on their heads and, boom, once that was done Buggy was accepting you with open arms and offering you a place to stay, plus his protection if you needed it.

(You didn’t need his protection, but you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth either..)  

Every day with Cross Guild offered something new and exciting, and as you quickly climbed the ranks in the organization, you also managed to get closer to the three founding members as well. You befriended Buggy first, and while some people may see Buggy’s arrogance and flamboyance as his weak points, you, just like the rest of your crew mates, have often found yourself mesmerized by his entire being.

He almost seemed like a larger-than-life celebrity who’s a regular part of your every waking day. It’s hard to believe that someone who once sailed the seas with Gol. D. Roger and Dark Knight Rayleigh, and is Red haired Shanks’ very own best friend is actually your captain, but he is and there’s an added pride that comes with that kind of knowledge.  You and your crew mates often clung to everything he said, eager to learn everything about him that he was willing to share and, luckily, Buggy was willing to share a lot about himself… Maybe a little bit too much at times, actually.  

But maybe that wasn't the worst thing when it came to him. Buggy’s an open book who’s pleasingly predictable and the great thing about that is you don’t have to wonder what he’s thinking or feeling, and in a world that’s so erratic, something as simple as being able to tell if your captain is pissed or not is…comforting?

There’s just something about his laid back, predictable at times, nature that made being near him so easy. You’d think someone like him would be hard to approach and wouldn’t bat an eye at someone unless they were particularly powerful, but Buggy was different. He’s extremely outgoing and treats everyone like a member of his family, so maybe that’s why you often found yourself in his company, listening in awe as he told you all sorts of lively tales, most of which were about his younger years.  

Crocodile was another fabulous figure in your life, and you truly wished that people would gather the courage to get to know him because he wasn't as scary or as cruel as he let people believe he was. He may be a bit of a grouch and has this thing where he always has to be in control, and if things don’t go his way-- You better watch out-- Still, even he had a good side to him once you got to know him.

On the surface he doesn’t seem particularly gentle…and well, he isn’t, but he has his own ways of showing compassion and appreciation for others, and it often comes in the form of personally working side by side with him, something that you found to be such a big privilege and learning experience once you were allowed to do it.

He’s ravishing, and at times carries himself in a way that makes him shine brighter than even Buggy The Clown himself. An esteemed former warlord in his own right, Crocodile often enticed you with the smallest of actions, and you stubbornly tried to tell yourself that all you felt for him was simple admiration. You’ve come to admire how goal-oriented he is and you wished you could be like him at times; Hell bent on achieving your goals and willing to crush anyone who gets in your way. That’s all…

….Or is it?

Regardless, and perhaps this is weird to say about him, but he’s someone who gives you inspiration and more confidence when you feel your lowest. Though, he has a rather….unique way of doing so, often challenging you to grow as a person in ways that to others might seem a little rude or back-handed but, hey, it is Crocodile we’re talking about after all, and the fact that he even approaches you and on some days even has an actual conversation with you, means you’re probably fairing better than most people in Cross Guild right now. You wanted to make him proud, even if the only compliment you’ll probably ever get out of him would be something like: “Oh, so you could do it after all? Good work, brat.”

Anyways, lord, who could forget Mihawk?  Intelligent, strong, elegant, Mihawk who may not be as flashy as your other two superiors, but is a star in his own right. He doesn’t talk much and if he isn’t standing by Crocodile’s side, then he’s probably off on his own, enjoying himself but behind that cold facade of his there’s a caring man, who begrudgingly agreed to take you under his wing and taught you more than you could have ever imagined about wielding a sword. You thought you were a great swordsman before, but you were foolishly mistaken.

In fact, you’re big enough of a person to admit that you weren’t even close to being the best version of yourself until Mihawk helped you unlock your true capabilities, and for that, you’re truly grateful. The time you spent with him often felt short and you wished that there were more words exchanged between the two of you because Mihawk is pretty fun to talk to and also has a hidden kind side to him, one that you wished you could see more of… if only there were more time in the day and during practices.

The founding members of Cross Guild were all charming in their own ways and your poor heart was often an unwilling participant in a three-way game of tug of war.  A laugh from Buggy could send your heart in one direction, a compliment from Crocodile in another, and a nod of approval from Mihawk after an intense sparring session could send it in a third direction.  And anytime one of them made that annoying muscle in your chest pound, you tried to stubbornly ignore your feelings and deny everything. There’s no way you could or should have a crush on any one of your superiors and yet…

Oh, who has time to worry about that sort of thing anyways? But...like, there's definitely no way they’d like you back…right?

…Right?

Sure, life was a tad confusing with your (romantic) feelings for each of your superiors blossoming but things were going great...That is, until one day Black Beard's crew made a sudden appearance on Emptee Bluffs Island. They came in the middle of the night without any warning and started destroying everything in sight; ships, homes, people, everything. You were told specifically by the boss himself not to fight and to instead help some of your sick or injured comrades off the island. And while you realized helping others escape is no easy feat in its own right, you were hankering for a fight and confident you could take on some of the black beard pirates, or even the emperor himself if he were on the island …. if you were just given permission to…

You pleaded with Buggy to change his mind and let you join the battle instead, but he seemed unusually hesitant. “No, no... It’s too dangerous out there,” He insisted, “Just sit this one out.” But… they needed all the people they could get to fight, and you were willing and able to stand up against Black Beard’s crew, so why couldn’t you just help out? You’ve been in plenty of fights before and Buggy always complimented your strength and fighting spirit. So why were things different now?

“But, I--”

”Go.”

You frowned, wanting to protest more, but figured it would be wise not to, so you begrudgingly followed his orders and began evacuating your most vulnerable allies. With little difficulty, you managed to help everyone who needed to flee the island onto one of the giant ships that the organization owned and anxiously waited for further instruction.

Every scream or loud noise took hold of your heart and squeezed it tight as the fear of the unknown very quickly started to eat away at your conscious. How could you know for certain that all those horrible, pain filled screams coming from the distance were coming from the enemies and not your own crew if you were stuck on the ship? How could you be certain that your side was winning and not being destroyed on the battlefield?  If Cross Guild is actually losing the battle, how could you allow yourself to let it happen without trying to aid some of your friends and superiors?

How could you just sit and watch everyone and everything you cared about be destroyed?  

Another distressed scream from a distance snapped you out of your thoughts, finally bringing you to your breaking point. You couldn’t just stand around and do nothing. You decided then and there that you were going to go against Buggy’s orders and join the battle, and that you’d deal with any negative repercussions later.

You made a rather bold announcement to those who helped you evacuate the island, making it known that you just had to go out there and lend a helping hand in this fight despite the chairman’s orders, and your eagerness earned you a few concerned looks, but no one dared to stop you. Instead, your allies offered a few whispered warnings, “Be careful out there…” and "Just be safe..."

Pft, what's there to be worried about? You got this!

You bid your farewell to your allies on board the ship quickly before rushing onto the battlefield, alert and ready for a fight, but not foolish enough to walk directly into harm's way as you followed the sound of all the commotion. It doesn't take you long to find a horrendous scene, one that confirms almost all your fears in an instant; everything within eyesight that you held dear is destroyed, either on fire or already turned to ash and the scent of smoke lingers heavy in the air, making your lungs burn.

You tried your best to remain calm, knowing a full-blown panic attack wouldn't help anyone in this situation, but... you struggle to keep a cool head as screams and sounds of bodies collapsing to the ground with heavy thuds echo through your ears as you watch the battle rage on, horrified, as both your enemies and allies alike fall to the ground in front of you.

A plethora of different emotions swelled up in your chest at that moment and threatened to swallow you whole; Panic, grief, anger, guilt, and so many other things that you couldn’t manage to put into words right now, left you frozen where you stood as the battle continued around you with no signs of stopping. For better or for worse though, the sound of footsteps approaching you at full speed brought you back down to earth, and with seconds to spare, you barely managed to react to being lunged at by one of Blackbeard’s burly men, one who was wielding a rather impressive sword.

You reached to your side, unsheathing your own brand new sword that was recently gifted to you by Mihawk, blocking the attack targeted at you. You were still shaken by everything going on around you but forced yourself to focus on the task at hand with the hopes that perhaps one of Cross Guild’s higher-ups would see you standing toe to toe with an imposing foe and, instead of scolding you for disobeying orders, they’d praise you and even thank you for bravely helping out during an unprecedented battle such as this.  

Well, you got the first part right at least.

As you gave it your all against one of Blackbeard’s men, you heard an angry, breathless voice from your side, calling out to you and asking you what you thought you were doing. Moments later you realized it was the chairman himself, of course, somehow managing to still be able to scold you despite having to constantly avoid sword strikes from his own opposing foe, “I Thought I told you to stay on the ship?” Buggy yelled over to you with a frown plastered across his painted lips.

“But, Chairm--”

Due to the brief distraction, You end up making a foolish, rookie mistake at that very moment. One that in any other situation you wouldn’t have made, and proving that Mihawk was truly right, that you’re never too good of a fighter to avoid any or all injury. A sharp stinging sensation spread across the front of your body, something that you couldn’t quite comprehend at the moment and the next thing you knew you’re body was hitting the ground with a heavy thud and concerned screams echoed all around you.

Okay, ow, you thought, more out of instinct than anything because truth be told you’ve been sliced by a number of swords during your life as a pirate, and though the pain never lasted for long due to your devil fruit powers, there were still occasionally those short moments in time where you found yourself flinching from the pain and thinking, well, that freaking hurt, before your body quickly healed itself and you were able to resume whatever fight you were in prior to getting cut or even stabbed by a sword.

And just like all those times before, you were ready to get back up and fight in less than a second, but something stopped you this time. Before you can jump up and get back to your opponent, a tall figure quickly appeared above you and everything after that happened so quickly. There was the sight of a giant sword glimmering in the moonlight followed by a blood-curdling scream from your would-be opponent. Mihawk…? You thought, confused as to where he even came from because the last time you checked he was nowhere near you before.

Your confusion only grew as Buggy, who seconds prior had just finished off his own opponent, hurried over to your side, obviously in a state of panic as he leaned down to cradle your head, yet you didn’t understand why. You’re perfectly fine, the only thing that suffered was your poor, blood stained shirt that got sliced during your short lived battle. His panic brought along more unneeded attention, first by Mihawk and then by Crocodile, both of which you swear weren’t anywhere near you earlier, but perhaps you were too caught up in your fight and your own emotions to properly assess the scene.  

“Crap, just hang on there a little longer. We'll get you to a doctor soon, I promise.” Buggy whined, scooping you up into his arms. Why do I need a doctor? You found yourself thinking, still utterly baffled and now growing a little flustered in Buggy’s arms.

“I…” You wanted to assure everyone that you were fine and that you weren’t even bleeding anymore, but a small argument broke out between your superiors and prevented you from assuring them that you were actually okay or as fine as one can be in this situation.

For the most part, it was just Buggy and Crocodile going back and forth with each other and trying to pin your injury on each other despite the fact that your ‘injury’ was brought on by your own carelessness and had nothing to do with either of them. ”What did I tell you, clown?” Crocodile frowned, “I told you if anything happened to h--”

“How was I supposed to know she’d ignore my orders and get off the ship?!” Buggy protested.

You tried to speak up again, but Mihawk inadvertently cut you off before you could, making sure he got his own jab in against Buggy, “Well, maybe if you had a little bit more control over your subordinates, this wouldn’t have happened.”

 You groaned out of sheer annoyance, unable to believe that these three were actually standing around bickering with each other when the entire island was literally under attack right now.  “Um. Actually… I’m okay,” You muttered, finally able to voice your own feelings on the subject. Three pairs of eyes quickly glanced at you, and you squirmed a little under their gazes, wishing that Buggy would just drop you already so you could return to the battle.

Buggy was the first to respond, “You can’t be serious right now. You were just sliced into two, we’ve got to get you to a doctor!” Okay, one, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, and, two, if they thought it was that important to get you to a doctor they would have taken you to see one right away instead of bickering with each other.

“Really, I’m fine,” You said with a sheepish grin, trying to squirm your way out of Buggy’s arms once you realized that he had no intentions of putting you down. ”We saw you get slashed to pieces though. We need to get you some h--"

“Oh, yeah!” You exclaimed, cutting off Buggy as he continued to panic, finally realizing why everyone was freaking out about you. “I forgot to mention this before, but my devil fruit powers give me the power of regeneration!”

Almost all at once the three men surrounding you narrowed their eyes, looking offended. In an almost comedic moment, they all asked you the same question at the same time: “How did you forget to mention that?”

Whoopsies?

[vesemirsexual]

wait no another one 🔀 for lambert adopting renfri

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, and i’ll shuffle my playlist and make an au based on the first song that comes up

No Roots - Alice Merton

okay this concept is mildly hilarious to me. but lambert ends up finding young renfri on the run from her stepmother and stregobor, and basically a feral little stray. she tries to steal his horse from the stables at an inn one night and he’s like I think the Fuck not. so renfri tries the big eyes “please mr I have nothing” and lambert is like wow cool, not my problem! begone little rat.

so anyway this kicks off renfri following him around and actively trying to rob his ass out of spite. he’s super annoyed and keeps telling her she’s lucky he doesn’t beat up kids, and she’s meanwhile like yeah i am going to take this assholes shit to sell. eventually she does actually manage to snatch some of his shit - he thought he’d finally gotten rid of the little brat, and while he was on a contract she DID actually do it. so he’s tracking her down like “right, going to make an exception, this kid is a fucking ASS” and it works out because miss renfri has drawn a little bit too much attention following a Witcher and she’s been hunted down by one of stregobors apprentices.

lambert gets about 5 mins into hearing the explanation about why dissecting little girls is totally cool actually before he loses it and the idiot loses his head. so now lambert is pissed off and he HAD wanted to teach this little shit a lesson but now she’s clearly terrified and shaking and okay he will watch her back for ONE night out here and then she’s on her own okay.

so lambert basically ends up with a child he can’t help but actually like. she’s vicious and she’s mouthy and rude and very determined to live (it does NOT remind him of anyone okay!!)

so now they’re staying moving because he doesn’t really know how big this is, and how many people are actually after this kid. and he thinks about taking her to kaer morhen, even if just for the winter, and he thinks about her teary terrified face when he’d found her, and he thinks about her in kaer morhen, and is completely rational about it of course - lambert decides he can’t take her there and he doesn’t want them to know about her. he doesn’t want their advice about children and they don’t know anything and he doesn’t want them giving renfri any terrible ideas about life.

so lambert isn’t returning home for a few winters and everyone is shattered because they think he’s dead. until there’s a rumour about a mouthy little bitch of a Witcher that literally cannot be anyone else, and one of his siblings hunts him down and is like …what the fuck is that? and lambert is immediately a little bit too defensive, too fierce about it all.

basically, baby boy has to face his trauma and they all have to ACTUALLY talk and clear the air. renfri is like woah mama mia you guys are way more messed up than me, comforting. lambert is actually doing pretty well at the parenting/mentoring thing and appears to be actually be trying to be a somewhat good example (it’s the cycle of healing and being better bitch)

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOOST as much as maroon has taken over every single brain cell of mine, i can’t seem to stop thinking about 24 hours!eddie and reader lately! they still got me on a chokehold!

i was just thinking, like in the long run, were they endgame? i know they’re head over heels for each other but like.....are they in it for the long haul? what would happen if like the topic of getting married or having kids was brought up, how are they both going to react? 👀

i’m not asking or forcing you to write a blurb out of this or anything so please don’t feel pressured, i’m genuinely just curious about their lore!!! 😭 and i also miss them so much lmao might end up re-reading the series again while waiting for the next maroon chapter ❤️❤️❤️

anyway i luv u and i hope you’re having a great day!

wanna know a secret? they definitely still live rent free in my mind as well.

they were definitely end game in the long haul of things. in my mind, it's actually funny, because i've thought about them watching their friends constantly getting into relationships and those relationships constantly ending, and yet they're still there and going strong as ever while everyone is just like "...what the fuck?"

nancy and johnathan would probably end up breaking up in the twenty four hours universe. that's actually canon based on a sequel idea i had. like, we're talking not very long after the events of the main fic. nancy would go to reader and probably rant in the midst of her heartbreak "i just don't get it. i thought me and johnathan - we were gonna make it, you know? i thought we had the perfect relationship. and, no offense, but compared to you and eddie, we did." (which she obviously doesn't mean, but she's just hurt and projecting. we all know nancy was a number one reader x eddie shipper). and reader could grow insecure about it and overthink, but when she ends the day getting to gossip all about it to eddie, he just scoffs and said "excuse me? what the hell does that mean? out of spite, we're definitely gonna end up growing old together. gonna mock them from across the retirement home as i kiss all your wrinkles. that'll show them." and she's just reminded that, oh, yeah. it doesn't matter what other people think. this is her idiot for the long haul. and spoiler: it isn't spite keeping them together. it's the way eddie looks at reader like she painted the night sky just for him. it's the way eddie is the first person reader wants to talk to in nearly every scenario, the way he's the first person her eyes draw to in every room no matter how crowded. they bicker endlessly, they aren't always acting the most lovesick and nauseatingly affectionate with each other in front of others, and there's certainly been plenty of fights where the gang holds their breath for the announcement of a breakup, but they always find a way to make it through. always. they're one of those couples, ya know?

and i could also ramble about the whole marriage/kid discussion, but i actually had a short one shot about it i wanted to write! i think i've avoided posting any of the excess content i had planned for them because i don't want to beat a dead horse, you know? it's been over a year now, and even though i love and adore them, i don't want to seem like i'm milking that universe haha. if that's something y'all would like to see now even though it's been so long, i am finally out of my funk with writing them and could probably post some of those one shots! especially because the way they go about conversations like kids/marriage is so fuckin funny to me.

i luv you even more, and hope you have the most wonderful of days, friend <3 thank you for not letting one, but TWO??? of my stories take up residency in your thoughts. it means the world to me and i'm giving you all the hugs and forehead kisses <3

[patchworkgargoyle]

🌿 Wip Ask Game

Thanks so much for the tag @numinosmoon!!

Rules

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That's it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

I'll be doing this from today until Sunday, so send in as many asks as you'd like!!

Non-obligatorily tagging: @steves-strapcollection @scarcrossdlvrs @inairbinad @stobinesque

WIPs

i recognise you're a hideous thing inside (steddiebang)

mouth of the wolf, eyes of the lamb (kas!eddie)

Boot Shine (NSFW)

Snippet

A big, juicy one from mouth of the wolf, eyes of the lamb~

There was a warm touch on his shoulder. A voice. Eddie groaned, his throat tight, feeling his face pull into a frown and he turned away. The touch became more insistent. A hand, shaking his shoulder, the voice clearer and calling his name. He didn’t want to wake up. Exhaustion held his body down like lead but his mind was pulled out of the syrupy darkness of deep sleep by the hands on his arm.

“What?” Eddie asked in a low, raspy crackle. “Go away.” He tried to burrow further into the plush pillows and cosy duvet but he was held in place.

A snort. “Jesus, Eddie, I thought you’d sunk into a coma or something.”

Oh right. Steve. And… fuck, everything else from yesterday. Eddie cracked his eyes open at the relief behind the humour in Steve’s voice, met once again with the appalling decor of the room but also Steve’s bright, teasing smile. It began to fall, though, when his eyes skated up Eddie’s arm and down to the bit of bare chest revealed when Eddie shifted under the covers.

“You looked, huh?”

Swallowing, Eddie glanced at the mirror and away again. “Yeah.”

“Are you… okay?”

“I dunno, Steve, would you be okay if you got shredded like ground beef to death and came back fucking wrong?” he snapped, wrenching his arm out of Steve’s grasp to sit up. The duvet pooled around his waist but he refused to look at the damage done, unwilling to acknowledge that he didn’t remember going to bed buck naked last night.

From the corner of his eye Eddie saw Steve put his hands on his hips. “Sure. Fair. Not even gonna say ‘I told you so’ because that feels like beating a dead horse, so: breakfast is ready downstairs if you want it.” And Steve left, shutting the bedroom door behind himself.

Gritting his teeth, Eddie turned his head to look at the door before correcting himself, blinking down at the horrifically patterned duvet instead, unable to avoid seeing the dark stains on his skin the the periphery of his vision.

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #28

Batgirl (2000) #12 writer: Chuck Dixon pencils: Dale Eaglesham

Batgirl (2000) takes a break from the usual creative team for a tie in to the Batman Crossover of the month, Officer Down. We've seen Eaglesham draw Cass a few times now & he's always solid. Dixon wrote for Cass back in Robin 73, which wasn't the best showing for her. Better this time, if more reliant on narration blocks than I'd like. Kind of odd that this is a 'tie in' rather than part of the story proper. Like they didn't want people to feel they had to buy this issue? I'd say it was a slight against Cass, except it's not like she was kept out of the rest of the crossover, she's in like half the issues.

But the fact that this issue is partially segregated from the rest of the crossover is convenient for me anyway, as it gives me an excuse to just look at this issue on its own this week, while next week we can bundle together the rest of Cass's appearances in the cross over.

Off the top, I have to say I really like the art in this issue. Eaglesham's fast cementing his place as my second favorite Cass artist. And not just because I like the way he draws Cass as Batgirl, but just, I mean, look at this page here, with all the details and personality packed into the scene. Kudos also to Jason Wright, the colorist for this issue, for really capturing this warm cozy homely interior, almost nostalgia-sepia-toned, while everything outside is cold and wet and blue. A single page that really captures Cassandra's isolation. At this point in her story she's basically living as Batgirl 24/7. No alter ego, no normal life, no friends. Not even really any connections apart from her somewhat fraught relationship with Barbara and her extra fraught relationship with Bruce. To see Cass on the outside looking in at the sort of connections that seem so impossibly distant, especially after the run in with her father last issue, it really works.

I also love these panels of Cass navigating Gotham, moving around like a shadow, often in the background or in silhouette. Bits like that convey the spookiness of this Batgirl a lot more than other artists who give her an angry face or emphasize the stitching on her mask or the like.

Love that panel of her rubbing her chin, thinky face clearly visible through the mask. Batman's out, so Cass decides to start investigating on her own. It's nice to see her doing the detective part of the bat-person vigilante job, rather than just leaving that part to Barbara, and Dixon does a good job of walking the reader through her thought process.

He is relying on narration blocks a bit more than I'd like, but he keeps them short and terse. Cass can talk now, but English is still a second language, and that comes across pretty well, imo. I was very critical of Dixons last showing with Cass, but he's honestly doing a solid job with her here, and as much as I don't care for them in general, I think the thought bubbles are helping. Some writers just have a hard time wrapping their heads around a non-verbal character. I'd imagine even just a little bit of language makes thing a world easier.

That said, not to beat a dead horse here, but with Cass speaking a few words here and there like this, they could have believably gotten her to this point through her own effort by studying with Barbara, no psychics required. Just saying.

I guess it hadn't really been decided how much Cass's new speaking ability had translated to reading yet? It seems from these panels that she can read at least a little, at least enough to recognize names and dates as such, which is more than she can do later on. But clearly she's not comfortable or adept enough at reading to get much out of the police files beyond Catwoman maybe being involved, and you can feel her frustration here when she abandons the papers to finally just go ask Babs for help.

Good stuff.

Of course, Babs isn't home either.

Again, I really like the way Eaglesham draws Cass. I like it more each time he shows up in this retrospective. Love little head tilt in the first panel, love the cape in the second panel there, very dracula-esque. Love that we can kind of see her face through the mask, makes her feel like a person.

Oh, you poor random doofus goons.

There's an ok fight scene at one of Selina's safehouse, albeit against no-name mooks. The panels are well drawn, the fight's perfectly readable, but it still feels pretty arbitrary, like hitting a minimum action quota for the issue.

Regardless, Selina isn't there, and the issue ends with Cass abandoning her solo efforts to go find the others.

As an event tie in the overall issue feels... pretty unnecessary. Nothing is really discovered, the story isn't advanced at all, nothing much happens. Makes sense that it wasn't an official part of the crossover, though you're left kind of wondering what the point was at all.

Even so, I kind of like the issue regardless. Eaglesham does a spectacular job with the art all the way through, and Dixon seems to have a much firmer handle on the character this time around. We get some solid panels of Cass trying to do some detective work on her own, something we rarely see, and the excellent bit early on of her flittering around through the city like a shadow. That sense of isolation from the first page really permeates the entire issue even if if the plot never touches on it, with Cass seeking out the only two people she really knows only for both of them to be out.

So yeah, even if nothing that happens in the issue really matters much, even if it doesn't really tell a stand alone story per se, I still like this one a lot.

[iviarellereads]

The Eye of the World, Chapter 35 - Caemlyn

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(White Lion of Andor icon)(1) In which I get to explain another meme.

Rand thought he knew what a great city would look like, after Shadar Logoth, but it's even better than he imagined. Whitebridge could fit here twenty times with room to spare, and the city wall is fifty feet high, everything is majestic and beautiful. And there are so many PEOPLE! Mat wonders how they can hide with so many people around. Rand points out that there are so many people to look through, they must be safe, as long as Mat can watch his fool mouth.

Bunt advises that if Rand's holding the sword Holdwin told him about, he should hide it, stop wearing it, sell it, anything to not be seen with it. It'll draw more attention than he wants. Then he takes off and Rand loses sight of him in the crowd.(2)

Rand tries to focus, to figure out where to go next, now that they're in Caemlyn. He can't quite grasp the flame and void, but he tells himself aloud that their friends are alive. He remembers that Thom told them to find an inn called the Queen's Blessing, they should go there first. Mat gets paranoid again, more than ever, with all the people around, and Rand has to give him a pep talk about they won't give in now, or it was all for nothing. They aren't caught yet. Mat apologizes and they go find directions to the inn.

One man they ask, with a white armband and a white cockade on his hat, says they've come too late. Confused, they keep looking. Along the way, there are many shops offering relics, scraps of the False Dragon's cloak and fragments of his sword, as if they could all be real.

Rand knows someone will notice that he's hiding something with his cloak on one side, but he can't stop wearing his sword, his one link to Tam. He sees that many men are wearing swords, some bound with white and some with red, in such a way as nobody would be able to see heron-marks. Rand notes that red wrapping cloth is cheaper than white, though he sees no difference in quality, so he buys the red and wraps his sword in an alley so he can stop looking quite so suspicious.(3) Besides, adopting a local fashion will make them stand out a little less. Mat's just paranoid that they got cheated on the price anyway, and they'll get beat up and robbed and… Rand basically ignores him.

Eventually, they really do find the Queen's Blessing, and introduce themselves to Basil Gill, the innkeeper,(4) as friends of Thom's. His smile slips a bit, and he pulls them aside.

Gill asks what's in the flute case, and Rand opens it. Thom would part with his arm as soon as that flute, so what's happened? Rand says he's dead, protecting them. Gill says he'll believe Thom's dead when he sees a corpse, and not before.(5) He's harder to kill than you'd think, old Thom Merrilin. He believes they saw what they say, but he doesn't think Thom's seen his end yet.

“Coming to Caemlyn, you say?” The innkeeper shook his head. “This is the last place on earth I’d expect Thom to come, excepting maybe it was Tar Valon.” He waited for a stableman to pass, leading a horse, and even then he lowered his voice. “You’ve trouble with the Aes Sedai, I take it.” “Yes,” Mat grumbled at the same time that Rand said, “What makes you think that?” Master Gill chuckled dryly. “I know the man, that’s what. He’d jump into that kind of trouble, especially to help a couple of lads about the age of you. . . .” The reminiscence in his eyes flickered out, and he stood up straight with a chary look. “Now . . . ah . . . I’m not making any accusations, mind, but . . . ah . . . I take it neither of you can . . . ah . . . what I’m getting at is . . . ah . . . what exactly is the nature of your trouble with Tar Valon, if you don’t mind my asking?” Rand’s skin prickled as he realized what the man was suggesting. The One Power. “No, no, nothing like that. I swear. There was even an Aes Sedai helping us. Moiraine was. . . .” He bit his tongue, but the innkeeper’s expression never changed.

Gill is relieved, he means no offence, but better to be in with Aes Sedai than… the other thing.(6) He can offer them beds, not good ones, and a bit to eat. Thom's a good friend, he can help a friend of Thom's. Just don't go talking about working with Aes Sedai too loudly, and they probably shouldn't mention Thom, either. Some of the Guards have long memories, and so does the Queen.

Thom had trouble with the Queen? Rand is incredulous. Well, it's no secret, says Gill. Thom was the Courtbard at Caemlyn, and known in every royal court on the continent. Not long after Taringail Damodred died, the trouble with Thom's nephew arose. Thom was having an affair with Morgase,(7) a young widow, and Thom in his prime. But when he learned about his nephew, he took off without a word, and the Queen didn't like that, or him meddling in Aes Sedai affairs. When he came back, they had words, some words you don't say to anyone much less a queen. When Thom left Caemlyn last, he was a hair's breadth from prison, if not the headsman's axe.

“If it was a long time ago,” Rand said, “maybe nobody remembers.” Master Gill shook his head. “Gareth Bryne is Captain-General of the Queen’s Guards. He personally commanded the Guardsmen Morgase sent to bring Thom back in chains, and I misdoubt he’ll ever forget returning empty-handed to find Thom had already been back to the Palace and left again. And the Queen never forgets anything. You ever know a woman who did? My, but Morgase was in a taking. I’ll swear the whole city walked soft and whispered for a month. Plenty of other Guardsmen old enough to remember, too. No, best you keep Thom as close a secret as you keep that Aes Sedai of yours. Come, I’ll get you something to eat. You look as if your bellies are gnawing at your backbones.”

=====

(1) The symbol of the royal family of Andor, and thus presumably a sort of symbol banner for the capital city. (2) Bunt knows Holdwin's not to be trusted from his regular encounters with the man, it seems. He knows who to believe: his own judgement, which seems mighty fine to me. (3) Now, why would one wrap be cheaper than the other? (4) I seriously trimmed down the gawping Rand does at all the people, fights that break out that he's witness to, etc etc. There are NINE PAGES in my paperback before they enter the inn. Also, I had trouble phrasing it for the summary so I left it out, but Rand makes reference to Gill's being fat as a relief: the only bad experience he ever had was with a skinny innkeeper. So, now it's a meme throughout the fandom that you never trust a skinny innkeeper. (Along the same lines, I suppose, as a saying I grew up with: "never trust a skinny cook" because presumably they don't cook well enough to keep themselves fed.) (5) And Gill teaches us one of the most important lessons in fiction in general, but particularly in this series: never believe someone's dead until you see a body and you're P O S I T I V E that it's actually theirs and not some elaborate illusion or prank. I've really taken that one to heart in recent years. (6) I find it somewhat understandable that, given the rules of this world, Gill doesn't really want a male channeler possibly on the edge of madness and Breaking (like the world was Broken 3000 years ago) in his inn. Like, he wants to help friends of Thom's, but that's a fair line to draw, given the destructive power we've seen a man hold. Lews Therin did literally create a miles-high mountain from a flat plain in the opening. (7) And then some intrigue with Thom! He was definitely having an affair with Morgase at one point, it's not entirely clear if it started before or after her husband died, or when Thom arrived on the scene at all. [waggles eyebrows] Also, interesting that he was "in his prime" at the time, and I have to wonder what that means exactly with regard to age. Thom's age is one of the biggest mysteries in the series. Because of his white hair and the description of him as "grizzled" in his intro, a lot of people assume he's in his 60s or 70s and just still nimble for his age. There are clues that lend toward that sort of range, if you pay close attention. But, I tend to headcanon him much younger, and I was ever so glad the show agreed with me in their casting.