#because they are both married and are having at the least an emotional affair

[godesssiri]

Grrrr. I have staff who were rostered at the rest home during the hurricane last week and didn't come in. Fair enough, it was a natural disaster and they didn't want to take the risk of leaving the house. I have other staff that went above and beyond and covered them, ones who voluntarily chose to be stranded there with the residents, another who wasn't rostered, couldn't contact us, but drove the long way around in the storm to come in anyway just to check if he was needed - which he was.

The staff who didn't come in, who were rostered, were not physically cut off by floodwaters and did not have dependents at home to look after, are now complaining that they got paid from their annual leave balance for those days. There's no special provisions in their contracts and government advice is that those days can be paid from either annual leave or domestic leave, or they can take unpaid leave.

They're bitching because our laundry lady who has 2 kids at home didn't come in but I've paid her her normal hours as if she did come in. I made the decision to do this because:

When she came in there had been only 3 staff on for 2 days straight and they hadn't been able to check the resident"s incontinence pads as often as they usually do so there were a lot of nasty sheets and pants to be washed

We had no power so no washing machines and they were asking us to avoid using the waste water systems as much as possible.

She hauled all the washing out into the garden and rinsed it out with the garden hose, burying any solids.

She hauled it all in buckets into her own car and took it to her own house and ran it through her machine using her own electricity. Her machine is half the size of the rest home's so she had to do twice as many loads.

She got up at 6 am so she could be at the laundromat when it opened at 7 and could get a chance to beat the ques and use the dryers, she used her own money to pay for the laundromat.

She confronted a gang member who's kid stole one of our washing baskets at the laundromat and made him give it back.

I wasn't paying her for hours that she didn't work. I was compensating her for using her own electricity, petrol and cash. And she did work extra hours getting up so early to get to the laundromat. I was also giving her hazard pay for doing so really nasty work in very challenging conditions.

AND she's been saying for months we need to go through the rest home's old blankets and sheets and decide what we need to get rid of rather than having them take up room in storage. I asked her to go through and pick out the really ratty ones to donate to the temporary animal shelter that's been set up at the race course and the faded but still usable ones to give to a friend who is organizing help for the overseas workers here for the harvest who's accommodation is gone. I expected her to do that in work hours and I would deliver the donations to the drop points. She did it on her own time and delivered them herself because she wanted to help displaced people and animals.

[lunafreya24]

A Passion of Ice and Fire

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon/Cregan Stark

Chapter 4: Jace gives the report of his visits to the Vale and Winterfell. He struggles to tell his mother about his love affair with Lord Cregan. He still worries she will disapprove of him.

(cw: internalized homophobia, period-typical homophobia)

“The Queen wishes to speak with Prince Jacaerys, Your Highness.” Elinda, Queen Rhaenyra’s lady-in-waiting, said softly. 

“Please inform the Queen he will be there in just a moment.” Luke answered back. 

“What do I say to her?” Jace panicked, practically flying off of Luke’s bed. 

“For now, give her your report and we will figure out how to explain the rest later.” 

“You're right.” Jace went to leave. “Dammit, I was supposed to change before I saw her.” He remembered.

Luke grabbed a tunic from his closet and tossed it to Jace. “Here, this one should fit.”

“Thank you. Wait, this is mine. I thought I had lost it!” Jace accused.

Luke shrugged in response. “You’re running out of time, you don’t want to keep mother waiting any longer.” 

Jace threw on his tunic and made his way down to the drawing room, finding his mother sitting alone looking into the fire. He slowly walked up to her. He felt as if he were a child again, coming to tell her about an old vase he had broken while running down the hall. He tries his best to keep his voice and face clear as he gives the report of his visits.    

“Your Grace.” Jace started.

From the moment he entered the room, Rhaenyra knew her son was hiding something. He had inherited his true father, Sir Harwin’s inability to mask strong emotions.

“Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support, in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale.” He pushed on. “And…... Lord Cregan Stark,” Jace’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Lord Cregan Stark has promised 2,000 men to aid us in our army.”

“Thank you Prince Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra began, “and was that the whole of your trip?”

“Excuse me, Your Grace?” 

“Well, I’m only wondering because you were gone for many weeks. I understand negotiations can be tedious and the distance is far, but I had hoped you would have some sort of leave during your stay, did you not?” 

“I did Your Grace.” Jace answered, not giving any more information. Rhaenyra sighed.

“Please sit down, Jace.” Rhaenyra offered the seat next to her. Jace took it cautiously. 

“I’m not asking this as your Queen, I am asking as a mother who wishes to know what her son has been up to. You are not in trouble nor am I ordering you to tell me what happened. But I assure you there is nothing you could have done that I did not do at least once in my youth.” Rhaenyra joked.

“I am not so sure mother.” Jace whispered, looking down at his hands. 

“Jacaerys, please, I do not wish for you to keep secrets from me. I know a great deal has changed over these past few moons, but I never desire for you to feel as if you cannot speak to me freely. I am still your mother and I want to converse with you the way we always have. You are growing into such a remarkable young man, and I wish to hear about it from your own admission, not in letters or accounts given by my court.” Rhaenyra pleaded. 

“I’m only afraid my actions will make you ashamed of me. And that you will no longer…. see yourself as my mother.” Jace confessed, looking up with glassy eyes. 

Rhaenyra was completely blindsided by this statement. “Jacaerys, son, look at me.” she said. “There are so few things that could ever make me ashamed of you, and even fewer that would make me not wish to be your mother anymore. Please, tell me what happened. I’m sure it is not so horrible, and we will both feel much better when it’s done. Please Jace, you’re frightening me.” 

“I…...broke my commitment to Baela,” Jace started. 

“I see. Well, this is not uncommon with royal betrothals. You are not yet married, and I believe you two can work through this.” Rhaenyra assured. 

“I broke my commitment to her…...with another man.” Jace revealed. Rhaenyra once again found herself astonished by her eldest child. “Oh.” was the only word she could find in response. She did not think of herself as an intolerant person, but she was truly at a loss for how to resolve this situation at the moment. She knew she had to say something though. She could see her son’s anguish growing with her silence. “Jace.” She began, “you have no reason to think I would ever be ashamed of you for this,” she said, grabbing Jace’s hand. “I suppose you don’t remember your father Laenor so well,” she said, but Jace interrupted. 

“I do, mother. I…I just…. I thought…” Jace struggled to find the words. But his mother understood. 

“You thought it would be different because you are my son?” 

Jace could only nod, due to the pressure growing in his throat. 

Rhaenyra fully embraced her son now. “I loved your father, as I love you. He was my family and a dear friend. We respected each other enough to serve our roles and allow each other to find romantic love in other people.” She explained, running a hand through her boy’s soft curls. “I do not care which sex piques your interests, you will always be my little boy. I only care that you are kind, just, and intelligent." She held her son the way she did when he was small. "Might I ask what this boy’s name is?” 

Jace picked his head up, wiping the tears from his face. “Lord Cregan Stark.” He told her. Rhaenyra could not help her amusement. 

“I must admit, you have good taste my boy.” She said with a giggle. 

“What do you mean?” Jace asked. 

“I mean you have picked a lord who comes from a powerful house with a good family, who just so happens to be a decent looking young man.” Rhaenyra explained. 

“Have you met him before?” 

“Once, when he was very young. But I remember telling his mother, Lady Gilliane, at the time that I believed he would grow into a very handsome young man. Was I correct in my assumption?” Rhaenrya pondered, smirking at her son. 

“You were mother.” Jace said, blushing fiercely.

"Would you tell me about him?"

“He’s very tall and at first I was intimidated by him but once we got to know each other, he showed me such a gentle, kindhearted side of himself.”

Rhaenyra felt a tinge of sadness in her heart, “He reminds me of Sir Harwin.” She remarked.

"Really?" Jace asked, grasping at the few memories he still had of his true father.

"Yes, very much."

Rhaenyra listened to her son go on and on about the young Lord Stark. How beautiful and affectionate the so-called Warden of the North was, on the inside as well as on the outside. She then realized she had yet to have this conversation with her son. He had never discussed feeling such an intense attraction to anyone else. He had referred to Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena as pretty, however, it came off as more of an observation than a genuine feeling he had for them. Then, as if on cue, Jace admitted.

“Oh mother, I don’t think I’ve felt this way about anyone before. He makes my heart race faster than riding Vermax through the hills.” 

“You seem very taken with him.” 

“I am. And he’s just as taken with me. I think. He gave me this.” Jace said as he reached in his shirt pulling out a long steel necklace, carrying a dark stone. In this stone was a carving of the direwolf, a sigil of House Stark. “It belonged to a close relative of his. He wanted me to have it so that I would remember him all these miles away.” Jace elaborated, lovesickness thick in his voice. 

“And did you give him something in return?” Rhaenyra inquired, having become very invested in this story now. 

“I gave him the pin Lord Corlys gave to me on thirteenth nameday, the silver one with the blue jewel in the center.” 

“I remember it.” His mother recalled. 

“And when he took it from me, he pinned it to the inside of his coat.” Jace smiled, “He pinned it to the part that fell over his heart. He said as long as he wears that pin, he will think of me.” Jace felt feverish with how hard he was blushing. 

“Aww,” Rhaenyra cooed at her son’s anecdote. “I wish my early love affairs could have been as charming as yours.” She feigned envy. 

Jace laughed, then frowned, “Mother, what am I going to do about Baela? I don't want to hurt her.” He sighed. 

“The best thing for both of you is to be honest with each other. If she is anything like her mother, she will be supportive. But, if the pair of you cannot strike an accord, bring her to me and I will see what can be done here.” Rhaenyra insisted. 

“All right then, thank you mother.” Jace said, hugging his mother tightly before making his way to Baela’s chambers. 

[intimidating-fettuccine]

It's gummy worm anon back at it again requesting some angsty things with Slender

Perhaps including that one quote from the corpse bride

"You're married to me! She's the other woman"

"Don't you understand? You're the other woman"

Perhaps something like that with Slender and ghost s/o if that's okay if not just a regular angsty scenario

Thank you and have a good day Intimiccini

I didn't originally know if I wanted to do that quote, but I think I'll kinda use it for angst after all. I am gonna kind of improv this a little because I don't want it to be an exact recreation of the movie.

While I do NOT think Slender would ever be a cheater, I am just doing it for this request of being the "other person" in a relationship. I feel like he's not the type to do that, but for the purposes of this ask I wanted to make it angsty.

Slender didn't mean to lead you on like this. If things were different the two of you could still be together, happily married and living out your ideal lives together, but things had changed and Slender had just continuously dug himself into a deeper and deeper hole. Slender had married you, many, many years ago, before you had died. It had been a couple of years after your passing that Slender had moved on and started seeing someone new, only for you to finally come back to him as a ghost. Neither of you knew why it had taken so long for you to come back, and the shock of it was far too great for Slender.

While he had moved on, the love he originally shared for you was still in the depths of his heart, and in your eyes, the two of you were still together and still happily in love. You weren't aware that Slender had moved on, that he was actually quite close to becoming engaged to the new person he had been seeing. He wanted to turn you away right then and there, explain that the two of you could no longer be together, but in the shock and emotional turmoil of being reunited with you, Slender caved to your sweet, beautiful smile, and the blissful ignorance you had about the current situation. Slender began to see you behind the back of his current partner, keeping both of you a secret from each other. While he was very much in love with his new soon-to-be spouse, there was a comforting familiarity in being with you after all this time, and he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth to either of you about what he was doing. It was weighing down on him, crushing him inside to be doing this, but he couldn't make himself stop, at least, until you discovered the truth.

You had seen him with them, his new partner, and you had demanded answers from him when he'd returned home, demanded to know why he was seeing another person when you were his spouse. The turmoil inside of him peaked, and he couldn't help but reveal the truth to you, that you're the "other person". Not them, but you. You refused to believe it, refused to accept that you had been an affair partner in what you perceived to be your own marriage for so long, but it was the truth. He'd explained how it had been several years since your passing, and he had finally coped with your death and began moving on, and then suddenly you showed up and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't bring himself to refuse you then, but he could do it now. Slender told you that he had to break things off with you, that he wanted to be serious about his new partner, that he would be coming clean to them and no longer seeing you. You refused to accept that too, stating that you were his spouse, you were already married, and if anything he should leave his new partner, but his cold indifference halted your words. "We were married until 'death do us part'. Death has already parted us, my dear. You're no more my spouse than any random person on the street." It was cruel, and it wounded you, but as the realizations soaked into him, he could no longer deny it. You were the other person, and it was time for him to return to his true partner.

[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It’s just that… you don’t really get along all that well, do you? At least, that’s what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers, slooow burn, language, drinking, mention of vomitting, rpf, fem!reader, eventual smut

Author’s note: we get drunk in this one! and, little side note: Mark's not the worst. Stupid, sure. But we love him still.

Wordcount: 4.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Something was wrong.

The wedding shower looked great - people were chatting, drinking, laughing. Mark and Poppy were stood near the entrance to greet everyone who came in, to receive gifts, to welcome family and friends. Sometimes excited raised voices alerted everyone in the room when someone who said they wouldn't be able to make it walked in through the doors. There was hugging and there were smiles and Joe was happy, because Poppy seemed happy.

Joe found the best venue. The perfect place for a wedding shower. Not extremely formal, not too wedding-y. But nice.

Still. Something was off. It started with you showing up way later than Joe thought you would've.

Drunk.

Joe saw you enter from where he was stood by the bar. He'd been chatting to a colleague of Mark who had recognised him, and immediately had all sorts of questions. About being an actor. About the industry. About the people Joe worked with. All things Joe didn't mind talking about, but this was bad timing.

You'd just walked in, with half-lidded eyes and a dopey smile, and you were quick to sling both your arms around Poppy. You let your body fall into her fully, and Joe saw Poppy stumble back at the surprise of having to unexpectedly carry your full bodyweight. You slurred some things into her ear, things that made her look at her fiancé with a worried glint in her eyes.

Looking at the two of you hug, Joe realised he could still feel you in his arms if he thought about it long enough. The way you just... fit him so perfectly. Had relaxed into his hold so readily. You'd only sobbed maybe twice before your breathing had steadied. He fixed it. Sort of had to, Joe thought. He'd asked you a question that he hadn't expected such an emotional answer to, and he'd regretted asking it the second he saw you well up.

He'd done that. Was responsible for that. Felt awful for it, too.

How could Joe not have hugged you?

It had been such a short, quick thing. Effective, though. You'd stopped crying just as fast as you'd started. The moment had been so small, but definitely special.

To Joe, at least.

But Joe knew he was on thin ice. Joe remembered your shared moment in vivid colours, but he also remembered the fact that Poppy breaking it up by her loud knock on the window had made him feel like he'd been caught cheating.

Ever since then, he'd been riddled with conflicted feelings.

Needed to make sure he kept distance. That he wasn't going to fuck it all up.

So he made sure that this party was perfect. Perfect venue, perfect bar staff, perfect DJ and perfect guest list. Even the lighting! Brightly coloured lights, all pinks and peaches, no blue tones to be detected. Joe had thought of everything to please Poppy. To make sure she was pleased with him.

Joe saw how you squeezed Poppy until it hurt her, and then you didn't greet Mark at all. Instead, you beelined it straight to the bar where you ordered two gin and tonics.

Even though fucking gorgeous, Joe could see how you were staining this beautiful affair. A big dollop of ketchup on a pristine white shirt, and this party wasn't allowed any stains.

Why the fuck were you drunk already?

From a distance, Joe saw Mark clench his jaw as Poppy touched his arm. She seemed to tell him to calm down, or, something along those lines at least. To not pay you any mind, perhaps.

But you just necked a full glass and seemed ready to throw back the second one too.

This had disaster written all over it.

Joe had to step in.

Do something.

Mark's mother found you, and you greeted her warmly. She'd been talking to Poppy's mother, and since you were greeting and hugging already anyway, you also leant in to embrace her.

You and Poppy's mother had never hugged before, ever.

Joe saw from her face that it was a little unexpected. You really squeezed her properly before you let go and found the straw in your drink with your tongue.

Classy.

Where you'd just seconds earlier greeted the two mum's like they were your own, now, it was like they didn't even exist to you. You stood and looked across the room, eyes roaming, your mind somewhere else entirely.

"Excuse me," Joe said to Mark's colleague who was still talking to him, and he made his way over to you.

"Hey,"

"There he is," you slurred through narrow eyes, all exaggerated suspicion, and one of your hands wrapped around his forearm by ways of greeting. Nails dug in harshly, and your teeth did the same to your bottom lip as you frowned.

"What's going on, are you all right?"

None of this was normal. Not that the two of you ever were or had been, but, you were fucking plastered.

You had a hard time keeping your eyes straight, and there was something vengeful about you, Joe thought.

You shrugged, spat, "Ask Mark," before spotting Mark's brother over Joe's shoulder and quickly stepping around him to make your way over.

There was no hug for Mark's brother, but just a sloppy high five, followed by lots of giggles and spilt gin and tonic. You were barely able to keep your balance, and when Joe checked on Poppy and Mark, he saw they were watching you as well.

In fact, Joe took a scan of the whole room, and from almost all directions you had eyes on you.

You looked good, still. Banging body in a banging dress. You still smelled lovely, your perfume lingered, and you didn't have a hair out of place. Skin all dewey, all healthy looking... it did something to Joe.

You looked fucking amazing if you asked him.

But you swayed on your feet. Laughed loudly. Fell into the people you were talking to. Held onto them for balance. It was so clear that you were well past the point of being just a little tipsy.

Jesus Christ, was Joe going to have to ask you to leave?

Joe and Poppy made eye-contact, and she beckoned him with a nod of her head.

"She's pissed," Poppy said the second Joe stepped into earshot. Yea, no shit you were pissed.

"I'll go tell the bar staff to only give her mocktails," Joe said, already thinking of solutions, of how to keep the peace.

"No, she'll notice," Mark grumbled, and rubbed his face. He seemed annoyed.

"So go apologise," Poppy said, and Mark was quick to react, "I have! I have apologised! Like, seventeen times!"

Joe had no idea what was going on, but he used context clues. It sounded like Mark had fucked up one way or another.

"Make it eighteen," Poppy hissed and pointed in your direction.

Joe could see people around trying to piece together what was going on. A hushed conversation between the three of them, Poppy's extended arm pointed your way - this wasn't difficult to understand. They were figuring something out, and so, nobody interfered.

Mark sighed.

"She's too far gone, it's of no use now. Saying sorry won't do anything. It'll just kick things off again. I honestly didn't think she'd come tonight,"

"Mark, this is our wedding shower, of course she's here. Listen, I'm not going to let–"

"Don't put this on me!"

"I'm not, but, she's your best man!"

Mark and Poppy started bickering a little too loud for Joe's comfort.

"I'll," Joe spoke up loudly, shutting the two of them up instantly. "I'll take care of this,"

"No-" Mark started, one hand up to stop Joe, but Poppy shot him a glare and said, "Let him," and all Mark could do was sigh and let his hand ball into a fist that bumped Joe on the shoulder.

A look was shared between the two men. Joe thought it meant, good luck, but Mark wasn't really sure what he meant. He didn't know what he could've said that would've helped Joe before he turned and made his way back over to you.

Joe politely interrupted the conversation you were having. Mark's brother immediately helped out and diverted your attention to Joe.

"Come," Joe said into your ear, "Let's go sit somewhere,"

Compliant, you immediately followed, much to Joe's surprise. He wasn't going to let you notice that, though.

Joe lead you to seats near the short end of the bar, furthest away from the entrance. It was a little tucked away, but pretty much still out in the open. Mark and Poppy would have had to move just by a few steps to see around the bar, to see the two of you.

You fell into a seat. Nearly missed it. Joe had to reach and grab you by the arm to make sure you didn't topple over.

"Mark says he's sorry," Joe started, but said it all casually like it wasn't a huge deal, and it made you scoff at him.

"Mark can go suck a thousand dicks,"

Joe couldn't help but stifle a laugh as he signed for water to bar staff.

"I'm sure he could,"

"No, he fucking can't," you immediately argued, your face all scrunched up. "He wouldn't know what to even DO with a thousand dicks."

"Mmh, well, I don't..." Joe raised a shoulder. "A thousand is a lot of dicks, to be fair,"

Joe got handed two glasses of water, and held one out to you.

"Drink this,"

"Fuck off," you refused, but didn't put a lot of effort in when Joe forced the glass into your hands.

"Drink it." Joe said sternly.

So, you did. When you wanted to lower the glass after one small sip, Joe didn't let you. Using two fingers pressed to the bottom of the glass, he made sure you downed the full thing.

You gasped for air when you slammed the empty glass down.

"You're– dick," you grumbled.

"I– .... my dick?"

You thought it was stupid how Joe was humouring you. Like you were a toddler.

"Why are we talking about my penis?" Joe's brow was set in a deep frown, but the corners of his mouth gave away the smile underneath.

You sloppily shrugged, all annoyed.

"It's probably pretty, isn't it? You know, in dick terms,"

You got all angry again, but now it was all aimed at Joe instead of at Mark. Which was good, Joe thought.

"Golden boy Joseph," you started, speaking into the room louder than Joe cared for. "Posh little squeaky-clean Joey, with his beautiful pretty penis, ugh, you're the worst,"

Even your facial expressions were slow and messy.

"That's all right," Joe just said. It made you cover your face with both your hands, elbows up on the table, and you groaned loudly.

"You're not the worst, Mark's the worst,"

Oh. Back to Mark.

"And apparently I'm the worst for wanting a plus one,"

You slung your arms about.

"I don't even want to bring anyone!" you defended, "I just asked why I didn't get one because he'd been all vague about it, and he still hasn't fucking said why,"

You nearly hit the empty glass in front of you.

"Careful," Joe warned, sliding it away from you, just in case.

"But obviously I'm awful for even bringing it up,"

Joe saw you look around, in search of Mark, he assumed. You got up a little from your seat, and leant heavily on the small table.

Unable to find him, you opted to just shout, "I'm clearly the worst friend," loudly into the room.

With a warm palm to your shoulder, Joe pushed you to sit back down and as you fell into your chair, your head bobbled.

You looked like you could use some sleep.

Or, some food.

You sighed deeply, clearly annoyed at... everything. Mark, mostly.

Looking at you, there was an overwhelming feeling to protect within Joe. To shield, even if he was unaware of what, exactly.

He just... he needed to make sure you were safe, and he'd use the excuse of Mark keeping tabs on him again if he needed to. It was an easy cover-up. Even if the two of you were fighting, you knew Mark would still need to make sure you were all right. But the way Joe was prepared to throw his own flesh and blood in between you and whatever could do you harm felt new. 

He could’ve never seen it coming.

You were strong. Held the strength of thousands. Were stubborn and didn’t let people mess with you. You could be harsh, and sharp, and if Joe said something wrong, you would always make him feel that he did. Would just get up and leave without feeling bad about it. 

But now Joe understood it was all coping. It was how you’d been shaped. By the years. By others. And Joe wanted to undo it. To fix it. Keep you safe.

From where he was sat, he made eye-contact with Poppy's mother. She looked a little worried, but Joe just smiled. Gave her a little wave. Signaled it was all good, even though he really wasn't sure if it was. 

De-escalate. Take deep breaths. They always helped.

Joe kept looking around. Seeing if he could find Mark after not finding him in the spot he'd been in before. He either needed to get the two of you together, or needed to keep you as far apart as possible at this party. He wasn’t sure which one was better right now. But he needed to at least know of Mark’s whereabouts so that he could decide what was best later. 

A loud gulp of air next to him made Joe turn to look at you.

You were crying. Holding it in, doing deep breaths to not let any audible sobs out, but your mascara was leaving dark tear stains all the way down to your chin.

“Fuck," Joe muttered, and was quick. Looked for napkins, checked tables and the bar surface, but there were none. He then patted his pockets, and immediately screwed up his face - did Joe think he was carrying a handkerchief? Had he ever done that in his life? 

Without anything else around, he then just used his forearm and pressed the inside of it over your cheek, getting the left side of your face. 

You immediately grabbed hold of it, and turned Joe’s arm in your hands to show him what he’d done. 

Black and brown make-up stains on his white sleeve.

“I’ll have it dry cleaned,” he said, twisting his arm out of your grip, “Close your eyes,” and then, he got the other cheek. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. Of course Joe didn’t wash his own shirts. 

"I think I need to leave," you then hiccuped, eyes still closed, Joe now softly wiping the fabric of his shirt against your face. He used the hem to get real close under your eyes, letting fresh tears disappear into the cotton.

"Nah, just need to sober up," Joe said, all casual. Like you hadn't just made an awful entrance and were very clearly ruining your best friend's wedding shower.

"Here." Joe then said, and pushed the second glass of water towards you a little. You'd assumed before that that was Joe's glass, but noticed it was still full and realised he'd gotten both glasses for you to drink. 

"They want you here. You're the best man after all,"

"I'm not so sure anymore," you said after downing more water. "He said some dumb shit, about how I always think everyone's in love with me," you winced, "Knows right where to fucking stab me,"

"Joe!"

Poppy called for him, and when Joe looked, he saw she was smiling. Happily chatting away in a group of girls, some of them bridesmaids, and she beckoned him to come over.

"All right, finish that. I'll be right back, okay? Don't move." Joe said to you before he dashed off.

You watched him walk away before your eyes landed on the glass in front of you.

Water was stupid. Tasted of nothing but your own saliva.

Water could go and fuck itself, like Mark could go fuck himself.

Water could go suck a million dicks, for all you cared.

You wanted more gin.

Mark sucked. And gin didn't.

Poppy pulled Joe into conversation. The girls said Joe's suit had to match their bridesmaids dresses, since he was part of their group. Joe agreed, politely smiled, said he'd wear whatever shade of pink he had to. Poppy swore he looked good in anything, and Joe jokingly agreed that he did.

People were laughing. Having fun. Some started dancing, and Joe thought to himself that this wedding shower was fun. Poppy was smiling, and so he was happy too.

Joe didn't forget about you, but in the crowd, being amongst people, he got swallowed up into conversation for a little bit. Into jokes. Into chats with friends and family, and people were interested in him. Wanted to know all sorts of things, asked him questions, wanted to tell him things.

When Joe eventually made his way back over after a little bit, you were gone, and your table held five glasses - one still with some water in. Four empty. Three with straws in.

Shit.

You'd not listened at all; hadn't finished the water, and you'd clearly moved.

The venue wasn't huge, but it was fairly packed. Looking around, it was impossible to quickly spot you.

He spotted Mark, though.

"Hey,"

"She's vomming," Mark said,

"Toilets?"

"Toilets."

Joe nodded, but didn't walk off yet.

"Do I... should we put her in a cab?"

Mark sighed and found his phone to check the time. The party had been going for a bit already, and Joe could tell he was annoyed.

"Where's Pop?"

"Mingling,"

"Okay, good. That's good."

A silence fell where Mark seemed to think about what would be the best course of action.

"We didn't give plus ones to people we know aren't seeing anyone," Mark then suddenly said, answering a question Joe didn't ask.

"That's why we didn't–"

"Yea man, no worries," Joe quickly replied. He needed Mark to know it wasn't an issue for him at all. Joe didn't want to be the cause of more drama, just wanted to make sure the rest of the night ran as smoothly as it could. Needed to, for Poppy.

"My mum's with her now, but–"

"I'll go, I'll take her outside and get her into a cab." Joe interjected, feeling like he should be the one to handle this. He was the maid of honour who had organised the wedding shower, after all.

"You and Poppy can stay," Joe pointedly said. Then he took Mark by both the shoulders, shook him firmly and pressed, "Celebrate. It's your wedding shower."

Mark turned to see Poppy laughing loudly. Good. Mark cared about a lot of things, but right now, the most important thing was for Poppy to enjoy herself tonight.

Joe found you in the ladies. Mark's mother was stood by the sinks with you, doing her best to wash and wipe the vomit from your hair.

You were a full mess of a girl.

"I'm taking over," Joe said, smiling politely.

"Are you taking her home?"

Joe had told Mark he'd just throw you into a taxi, but his mother made him commit to bringing you all the way to your doorstep.

"Of course," Joe had no other choice.

"Darling," Mark's mother turned back to you and grabbed hold of your face with both hands. A wide grin spread across it as your eyes remained closed. "You're going to get home, eat something, and go to sleep,"

The mere thought of food made you shudder.

"Nothing crazy, just some bread or something, carbs," she quickly added.

When Mark's mother turned to look at Joe again, Joe took it as his sign to take over.

"Come on, we're leaving. Let's go,"

Joe held out an arm, which was meant to just guide you. Get you in front of him so he could maybe hover both hands close to your shoulders to make sure you didn't bump into anything on your way out. Instead, you took hold of it and curled into it, and suddenly Joe had his arm around your neck as you leant into his side and he had to focus all his energy into keeping a straight face.

Getting you outside was easy. Getting rid of the blush on his cheeks wasn't. The fresh air made you push yourself into Joe more, and it made Joe mentally have to count to ten.

Joe was shielding and, fuck, it felt amazing, but he knew he was overstepping. There was no way in hell Joe was going to let people - let you be able to accuse him of taking advantage of a situation. Nothing he was going to do could lead to accusations, Joe needed to make sure of it. Nothing.

Deep breaths. They always helped.

And Joe had to take more deep breaths when a taxi stopped in front the two of you, and you didn't really make any moves to get in by your own accord.

Joe had to use his arms, his hands, his fingers, to manoeuvre you into the backseat and get you into a seatbelt.

"Where to, mate?"

And that's when Joe realised he didn't know your address.

He knew whereabouts you lived - he had walked you home that one time, remember? But what the fuck was your address?

"Um," Joe squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

What the fuck was your address?!

He could contact Poppy, or Mark, but the second he thought of either of them receiving a text or a call from him, he knew how that would make their mood drop. Joe didn't want to be a bother. Couldn't let you be more of a bother than you already had been.

"Just..." Joe looked at you. You were already asleep.

Then, he gave is own address to the cab driver and slid across the seat to get into his own seatbelt.

All right.

This was fine.

Joe had bread. He could give you some bread, have you sleep on his sofa, make sure you were actually okay, and, Joe checked his phone for the time, there'd still be enough time to make it back to the party.

Yes.

This was going to be fine.

You were going to be fine.

But Joe looked over, and you had your head slumped forward and were hanging into every turn and it looked painful.

Protect. Keep you safe.

Joe sighed, undid his seatbelt, got into the seat next to you, buckled up again, and used careful hands to push you into him. Give you something to rest your head on.

And you fucking snuggled.

Deep breaths, Joe. It wasn't that far to go still.

Joe took deep breaths for the rest of the trip, and then Joe took deep breaths as he held you up by slinging one of your arms around his neck as he got you into his house.

More deep breaths when he let you fall back onto his sofa and he saw your dress had ridden up.

More deep breaths as he went to the kitchen to get you bread like Mark's mother had said, and water too. A paracetamol sounded like a good plan as well.

More deep breaths when Joe stepped back into his living room to find an empty sofa.

Footsteps on his stairs.

Fuck.

Joe called for you, followed where the noise came from, and saw you disappear onto the landing.

Fucking fuck. Shit.

With the bread, water, all of it in hand, Joe quickly toed his shoes off and rushed up the stairs after you. Picked up the handbag you'd dropped halfway. He heard the rustling of his duvet and knew he was too late.

Tonight Joe was going to be the one to sleep on the sofa.

Joe wasn't prepared for the sight of you in his bed, your feet still in heels that stuck out on the side. It made him feel too many things at once, your face pressed into his pillow, on his side of the bed. He didn't even care that he'd just witnessed someone washing vomit from your hair.

He placed the water, food and medicine down on his bedside table and knelt down to take your shoes off for you.

Joe was touching the skin of your ankles with his fingertips and he felt his face heat up. Your little hums did not help in the slightest, and even though Joe loved them, none of this felt right.

Joe was overstepping.

With your shoes removed, you slid both legs under the covers and moved to get more comfortable.

"All right," Joe whispered, leaning a little closer to catch sight of your face. "There's some dry bread here on the side, some water, a tablet if you need it, your bag's here, on the floor, and–"

"Mmmhm, 's just a nap," you interrupted and reached a hand up that found Joe's cheek to pat.

It burnt his skin, and he wanted to smile. To allow himself to enjoy your touch, but he couldn't.

Joe reached to draw the covers over your more, tuck you in a little before he'd head out again, and it was the worst thing he could've ever done. Because your hand found his arm and suddenly, you were holding onto Joe's shirt and pried your eyes open to look at your own make-up stains.

"Go, have a nap," Joe cooed, trying to create distance, and fully expected you to close your eyes. You were drunk, so you'd probably fall asleep fast.

Instead, Joe felt his heart skip several beats when you softly said, "Nap with me."

Inhale. Hold.

Hold.

Hold.

Joe couldn't fuck things up any more than he already had, but you were in his bed, on his side of it, and you just asked him to get in as well and, what the fuck?! Joe was just a man. One with insides that churned at the sight of you, even now, all drunk. All soft. And the pillows looked cool, and clean, and inviting. And you asked him to nap with you.  

Exhale.

Joe thought of Poppy.

Thought of Mark.

Thought of how you and Mark met. How you became friends.

Thought of how everything that had happened tonight had lead him to this exact moment.

There was no way Joe was going to go back to the party, still. He should. Probably should, you know, for Poppy. Really didn't want to, though.

He wanted to get into bed with you.

He shouldn't. Really shouldn't. But fuck, he really wanted to. And he could, maybe, if he kept his clothes on. Right? That would be okay, wouldn't it?

Joe took too long. Hovered in the space above you for too long. So you decided for him by also grabbing hold of Joe's arm with your other hand and turning over, essentially encasing yourself into his arm like you'd done earlier when Joe'd lead you outside.

And then you scooted over, further into the bed. Made space behind you, and didn't let go of Joe, pulling him in.

Yea, Joe wasn't going to go back to the party.

Gently, Joe laid down behind you, hoped and prayed you didn't notice- didn't feel the effect it all had had on him below his belt.

"I love a good nap," you whispered, all breathy and gentle, and like you'd done in the cab, you snuggled. Joe had to bite his bottom lip not to let any noise escape him.

Deep breaths.

You were in Joe's bed, in Joe's arms, and you were safe.

Joe got to keep you safe, and suddenly, it all felt right like nothing had been more right ever before.

Rest now, Joe told himself. She's not going anywhere.

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s  @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[agentrouka-blog]

I often see this sentiment that Ned should have told Cat the truth about Jon and it would have solved all their problems. I disagree with this? I don't think Ned was being an idiot for not telling Cat. I think there were a multitude of reasons of why he didn't tell her, and all of them held weight in his decision.

1) he didn't know or trust her when they got married

2) a secret stops being one if you tell even one person about it. He promised Lyanna he wouldn't tell anyone and that included everyone, except obviously the people already present at the tower (Howland and the wet nurse I presume)

3) there is a possibility that Cat's behavior towards Jon would have changed knowing he was not a result of Ned's affair, but her resentment towards him also provided a cover. If she treated him, say cordially, then it would have been very suspicious considering Ned was already fostering him at his own home.

4) after he came to know Cat, he would have realized that she was fiercely protective of her family, she wouldn't have thought twice before giving up Jon for her children if it came to that. A choice no sane person, including Ned, can fault her for. By not telling her, he removed that option for her, saved Jon and also saved her from the guilt that would have haunted her.

5) he was committing treason that would have endangered Cat and his children. In case it ever got out there was plausible deniability for his family that they didn't know and it might have saved them.

His actions hurt both Catelyn and Jon but it was a very complicated situation overall so I understand him too. I don't know what would have been the alternative because I don't think telling Catelyn would have solved anything. What is your opinion on this?

I don't think people generally claim it would have magically fixed "everything", but many also misunderstand how Ned is mishandling the situation. He isn't actually handling it well by himself, he isn't handling it the way he would have if Jon was actually his bastard. His inability to be "normal" about it and come up with a convincing lie created most of the avoidable problems we see, which is Catelyn's eternal insecurity about Ned's feelings for Jon (and his mother) which feeds her anxiety about her own children being usurped, plus Jon's complete trauma over knowing absolutely nothing about his mother. Both are left hanging for no logical reason from their POV, and that's an absolutely insane path for Ned to go down.

True, and then he chose to go the worst way about it and never fixed it later.

Howland knows. The Daynes know. Wylla probably knows. Benjen probably knows. Come on. And we don't know what she made him promise and it's more likely to be along the lines of protecting her son than specifically never telling anyone who could have helped him handle this better.

Catelyn being "nice" to Jon isn't even half of it. She could have advised Ned on how to handle the situation in a realistic way with the least harm done. Which is likely to foster Jon somewhere, make plans for his future instead of leaving him aimless, create a believable lie about his mother that doesn't shame him, have a harmoniously accepted situation instead of making his kids grow up with this unresolved conflict warping their emotional well-being.

What situation could realistically arise where Cat could "sell out" Jon to "save" her children that specifically depends on her knowing this and also wouldn't mean they are all already in deep trouble? It's nonsense. Also, Catelyn "Family Duty Honor" Tully would not fault Ned for wanting to save his sister's child. It's a perfectly decent choice on his part and a dilemma she could easily understand. Come on!

How is this (thin glaze) of plausible deniability not equally achieved by simply lying (and lying better than Ned can, especially)?

It's just that Ned left both Cat and Jon deeply anxious and traumatized, respectively, because his decision was to lie very badly and then refuse to answer all reasonable questions. It has repercussions for all of them. From Cat to Sansa to Jon to Robb.

Plus: Ned may have actually had an opportunity to heal from his horrific trauma if he had talked to literally anyone about it. He may have been less likely to cling to Robert as a vestige of his lost youth, blinding himself to the man's monstrous faults and sticking around to his own doom.

It would not have "fixed everything" but you can't convince me it wouldn't have fixed some things.

[shamixlour]

The Newsreader - 2x06

You know I was thinking of the way the last season ended.

These whole sequence is quite upsetting, at least for me, although I utterly enjoyed season 2 and ofc, its ending as well, which made me very excited for what is coming next. Grab something to drink, to eat because this is going to be a long one. 

~

First, just for some context.

2x06.

We’re back to a full circle moment, with Helen asking Dale to marry her as she cannot function without him, as she is willing to bear his secret and this time Dale is refusing. He doesn’t forget to tell he loves her but they can’t do that. Helen expresses then how she does not know what to do but Dale tells her something, he tells her that she just needs to do her job. 

Cut to Donna Gillies, the very noisy interviewer in Helen’s home with Dale and something happens, something that made chills run down my spine. Dale is doing his job, he’s doing something I did not expect him to do or rather felt very overwhelmed seeing him do. Dale is doing something that would help him keep his job, for a very long time. I’ll develop more later but we can see him expose to Donna that Helen left, that Geoff is stepping off, that all of his opponents are gone and he is now the only milking cow available, the only one left and how if she remains quiet regarding Dale’s sexuality, regarding Tim, she could have not only one big editorial, one selling story but multiples and throughout long years, even for the rest of Donna’s life because a great newsreader is forever. He is offering her everything she wants, a long thread of years full of exclusive coverage of the future events of his life. 

We can reason that Donna accepted the proposition because we suddenly see Helen at the airport. We can hear Dale's voice and then we see her looking at Dale through TV and the tears flood her eyes. She wants to cry as she watches him deliver the news on TV to the entire nation. I read her looks as very mixed emotions bumping into e/o. She’s sad. Helen is proud too. She is devastated because she knows the loneliness of it, the chaos behind and the devotion. She’s happy because Dale is where he wants to be. She is stunned as well because he is just really good. He’s THE newsreader.  

We can see him say : I’m Dale Jennings. Welcome to News at Six and then it cuts. I made a music analysis of this as I think it is a genius sequence.

 

Now that the context is established, I really want to get into details and share some of my interpretation and understanding of that ending + some of what I expect for the coming episodes, especially what might be coming in terms of personal affairs for Dale as we know this is the finale season of the series. 

When it comes to his personal life, I am a bit blank and lost but also, I cannot seem to dissociate it from his professional life as well. Will he be with Helen at the end? Will he be with Tim? Tbh, I don’t think Dale is going to end the series with either one of them. I don’t see the story heading there at all and I am not saying Dale does not deserve love. It’s quite the opposite actually. He deserves every ounce of love like anyone else but the thing is Dale does not love himself and I’m not necessarily a ‘you have to love yourself to be loved’ thruther but in this case, I think it goes even beyond that. In fact, I do not think who he ends up with matters that much, I don’t think his relationship with Helen is just that, meaning a romantic relationship or the one he has with Tim, just a fling, a gut wrenching crush.

I think both relationships go beyond that and mean much more than what they outwardly portray and imho, lie in there the entirety of the story, or most of it at least. 

Dale despises such a big part of who he is that it eats him alive from within, that it doesn't allow him to thrive, to live, to breathe. He hates himself for it, for these feelings he thought would disappear, for this way of loving that does not seem to fit anywhere, for however hard he tries, it never seems to be enough, it is always not normal. Dales hates it. He really does and I think that is why, deep down, he runs after a certain form of recognition, through TV, through the entire nation of Australia, through his colleagues at the News office, through his mom, through Helen.

I mean we are speaking of the man that took speech classes for his voice because it wasn’t good enough for the rest of the world, of the man that instantly changed his hairstyle the moment Helen tells him he looks better like that, more appropriate for TV. These events seem quite futile and silly almost but imho, they hold greater meanings and enlighten in a horrendous beam the deep and profound trauma and ache, the dreadful desire to please and be accepted, loved and respected. He runs after reassurance from Helen and finds it for a while. Dale also runs after a horrible sense of normality, of something common and ordinary and finds it again until it all crumbles down because he is not normal, because he does not fit anywhere, because he is broken. Just to be clear, Dale loves Helen, I never doubted that. I think he truly does but I believe he loves the idea of what she represents too, the safety she embodies if she is affiliated to him in society, in the 80s, as a public figure. He loves her for the confident newsreader in her, for how she manages to maintain the persona, how she holds it in despite being on the verge of tumbling down. Dale loves her as she, deep down, cares for him, loves him unconditionally (not necessarily romantically but as human to human, as a person to another one) and that regardless of the fights and despite the refusals. He knows they love each other and this is precisely why Dale does what he does. 

At the end of the season, I almost saw a bit of early-day Helen in him. He grew cold, he maintained that perfect facade for the press, for the world. Just like he promised it to Donna, to himself in a way and it reminded me of when they were shooting their supposedly lovely candid shots in their home and Dale was not comfortable as everything was too much and planned and fake and Helen told him that this is how it was supposed to be, that they had to reflect to the public that perfect picture because they were the newsreaders, the perfect ever lasting couple. 

Dale accepts and fall into that at the end. He has a goal, the desk and does anything to get to it, is willing to hide himself even deeper in the trenches to match that polished version of himself. 

The newsreader. The perfect face, the one you trust to deliver news to the world, forever. 

That, again, genuinely made chills run down my spine because, first of all it echoes the ending of season 1 where we can see a happy Dale and Helen on the desk, with Tim in the back, smiling at the vision of it because Dale finally did it. But also bcs as we got a full circle moment with the proposal, I felt like we had a full circle moment with that too and it broke my heart as I know the desk has always been a dream of his, as far as his childhood but at what cost. 

This is what season 3 will develop imo, or at least I hope so. It is going to be sad for sure and I know he is going to be hated, I know he is going to crumble down at some point and I expect Tim to reappear too and threatens that fake stability Dale seems to engulf himself within. I know they’re going to be opponents with Helen and I wonder how he will manage that too, the tension of it all. I expect him to be even more cold and hard, to lose himself furthermore up to the point he snaps and because I hope for a happy ending, I want to see Dale find himself again and love himself for it. I want to see the newsreader if it still is what he wants to do, although I can see him doing documentaries or on site live newsflashes. 

Essentially, I hope to see Dale realise that he can be forever, that he can be the face that can be trusted, that he is the face all while accepting himself, all while being at peace with who he truly is. I see him having a lovely relationship with Helen and not necessarily romantic. I think their souls are linked in ways that are hard to explain and I wish to see them as good friends, colleagues or at least as a joyful warm memory in e/o’s life. I hope he makes things right with Tim too.

Either way, it is going to be sad, hard to watch but I just know they will deliver.

Anyway, I am going to end this here before it gets too long. If you read all of this, thank you very much and please do not hesitate to hop into the conversation ^v^

[belit0]

Hello!♡

Thank you so much for doing my last request! I absolutely loved it and You're such a great writer aaa!<33

But anyhow, I've come with a new request and it was mainly inspired by the way you characterise Izuna (I absolutely love it btw). Sooo, essentially Izuna and Madara sharing a wife. Like, Izuna got her first, but decided to share with Madara, because he is his dear big brother after all!

You can gladly make it mostly nsfw with a generous amount of the infamous Uchiha breeding kink on top, because I need that in my life rn lmao.

Thank you for all you do and have a great day/Night!<33

-bunni anon♡

Months later, here is what you asked for. It has a good combination of nsfw and sfw material, as I found fascinating to explore the dynamics of these two Uchiha in such a situation. I had fun, to say the least.

Marriage dynamics

In the Uchiha clan, shared marriages are not unusual, as their culture values family, strength and unity. This complex but harmonious relationship began as one of Izuna's many defiant attitudes, trying to go against the council, prove to them that he would not marry who they thought was wise.

(Y/N) became the perfect proof of defiance, a middle finger raised to the elders who kept pressuring the young Uchiha with marital concerns (they decided to leave Madara alone in those matters, of course). One thing led to another, and what started as a fresh fling translated into genuine feelings, accompanied by a long and tumultuous emotional journey that Izuna was not ready to take on.

Luckily, Aniki is always ready to lend a hand to this little jerk, and it was in the sentimental navigation that Izuna undertook with (y/n), assisted by Madara's advice, where the girl developed a strong attraction for the clan leader, setting a new path and direction.

After much internal debate and various agreements, both brothers came to the conclusion that the situation was simply perfect, as the girl not interceding in their bond, but rather contributing to it, was a great match for them.

Madara, being the eldest, has a more protective and authoritative attitude. He is concerned about the welfare of the family and tends to assume the role of leader in personal decisions. Being a man of wise words, he is the one who is in charge of mitigating any tension that may appear in the dynamics. His word is rule, and Izuna knows that contradicting Aniki is pointless (unless it is intentional).

(y/n), however, enjoys ruffling his feathers. Sometimes it's so simple, and punishments in bed have an intense flavor. Madara asks Izuna to assist with punishment and discipline whenever the girl pisses him off, and the younger Uchiha never misses an opportunity to explore sadism between the sheets.

Izuna, on the other hand, is spicier in his manner, playful and carefree. He has more of a physical relationship with her, which balances Madara's seriousness. Both siblings deeply respect each other, so there are no major conflicts for (y/n)'s attention, although sometimes small friendly competitions arise.

Where Izuna tends to lean toward physicality and sex, Madara usually opts for affection. Great balance.

Division of time

Madara, with his leadership role in the clan, spends more time in meetings, while Izuna takes care of the day-to-day affairs of the clan. This allows their wife to spend more frequent and relaxed moments with Izuna, fronting as the first lady of the family.

In the evenings, the three of them get together to share quiet dinners. Madara, who values unity, insists that these dinners be family moments, without political or strategic discussions, purely leisurely and trivial. Both Izuna and (y/n) help him to put his feet on the ground after long days of work, regulating him.

3. Hobbies and shared activities

They enjoy training. When (y/n) is in the mood to participate, they usually arrange all-against-all battles, with the winner being the one who endures to the end. If the girl prefers to rest, she usually settles under the shade of a tree until they wear each other out, waiting for them with snacks ready.

Mutual challenge and support is a big part of their dynamic.

When Madara manages to dodge his responsibilities, the day begins and ends with sex. He doesn't have much free time, and he knows that Izuna and (y/n) never waste time alone. On the one hand, he finds it imperative to catch up, not to be left behind, and on the other, the need builds up in him like hot lava, clamoring to be released. If there is an opportunity, (y/n) does not leave the house all day long.

In quieter moments, they enjoy strolls through the Uchiha compound, where Izuna and (y/n) are corralled by the clan's children while Madara interacts cordially with nearby adults. Sometimes they are satisfied by simply inhabiting the same space, each immersed in their thoughts but sharing the calm.

Preparing dinner

As for household chores, although they have servants who can help, their wife often prefers to prepare meals, enjoying the process as a way of caring for her family. However, Izuna sometimes offers to assist. Madara, too busy to participate in cooking time, rarely gets involved, but always appreciates the food.

Usually, these are moments where Izuna takes the opportunity to enjoy (y/n) without Madara's presence. The servants know when to leave the home, give them privacy, and the Uchiha normally ends up fucking her on the table. If pre-dinner sex happens, she must sit down and eat in front of Madara with the remains of Izuna's seed dripping down her legs, leaving no greater satisfaction for the younger Uchiha than when his Aniki realizes what they were doing in his absence.

Conflict and resolution

Although there are moments of tension, like any relationship, they don't usually fight over their wife's attention. Their mutual respect as siblings prompts them to handle any conflict as they know best: with punches. In a controlled and competitive way, both Uchiha always solved their problems with their fists, knowing when to stop, regulating emotions in a physical way. Their wife, intelligent and patient, plays an important role in mediating when disagreements arise, ensuring that both feel valued, and giving them space when they need to release tensions.

If the problem runs too deep, for whatever reason, the girl has special weapons to disarm the brothers. It is as simple as taking them by the hand and directing them to any available surface, undressing in front of them and allowing whatever they wish to do with her body. No Uchiha will ever resist their woman surrendered in front of them, too much fire in their blood for that.

The only dispute that sometimes appears is fraternal jealousy. While they may compete on some things, like who surprises her with a gift or kind gesture, these moments strengthen their relationship, making the marriage more solid. (y/n) enjoys the attention, and will never admit to dying of tenderness when they simultaneously struggle to give her the best detail or present.

- On intense nights, Madara insists on sleeping inside (y/n), possessively filling her pussy, while Izuna opts for her rear end, joining in the fun until his legs go numb.

- Madara adores watching Izuna take care of (y/n), waiting for the moment when his need is too high and he feels himself exploding. The image of his wife being torn apart by his brother sets him on fire.

- Izuna always tries to find ways to compete. No matter how much he knows (y/n)'s buttons, how to make her scream and when to leave her shaking, he inevitably tries to come up with new ways that will put Madara on the spot.

- Izuna proposed a challenge that ended up becoming a habit: he insisted on (y/n) going through an entire council meeting swallowing Madara's cock under the table, unbeknownst to anyone, leaving him as the only one aware. If Aniki cums before the meeting, he is punished with the impossibility of touching (y/n) during the entire sexual encounter that follows, forced to watch helplessly.

- Madara prefers (y/n)'s cunt, obsessed with burying himself deep between those soft lips and filling her with high-quality seed. Izuna, indifferent as to which hole to occupy, usually takes over the girl's mouth until his brother is satisfied.

- Most often, (y/n) ends up with a mixture of cum dripping from the inside, fluid that doesn't stop pouring until hours after the encounter is over.

[creativeashproductions]

Hung the Galaxy // Jake Seresin

IN WHICH: Your fiancé's betrayal sets on a course to meeting someone new after fleeing your wedding. Years later you return to LA with a new fiance

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x f!reader, ex!Evan Buckley x ex!reader

Warnings: Swearing, cheating/affair (not Jake), reader and Jake have a child but can be read as non-biological child, angst, and fluff

Words: 2.3k

A/N: Hi. I love doing crossovers, so I'll probably do a lot of these.

Masterlist

Los Angeles, California, 2020

The bulky planner that had become a staple on your kitchen island would be retiring to a storage bucket. It had served its purpose and would become a momentum of this big step in your relationship. Wedding planning was stressful when your fiancé was a firefighter.

Your hand glided over the material of your wedding dress. Tailored perfectly to your body and the dream dress when you thought of walking down the aisle. You were incredibly excited to get the dress professionally cleaned and stored away. 

You also were excited for the two-week honeymoon Buck had planned to relax after months of intense planning. Buck had been tight-lipped about the honeymoon itinerary other than letting you know it was in Bali. However, he’d gotten discounts after having lived and worked there shortly.

“You’re gonna be gorgeous.” Your eyes lifted from the dress to Athena standing at the entrance. You knew from the beginning you wanted her to be part of getting ready for the day, partially because of how calm and levelheaded she was.

“I hope so.” You murmured, stepping across the room barefoot to hug her tight, “It took a lot of planning. Buck and I didn’t get to spend much time together with him working and all the appointments for planning.”

“At least Taylor’s photographer friend agreed to a discount.” Athena nodded, “Which reminds me, I need to make sure May’s got the Polaroids ready to go.”

You grinned, “I have to meet Taylor with the photographer, and then it’s officially time to begin the process of that dress.”

Taylor Kelly had been the roommate of a friend from college, and when your friend had to drop out unexpectedly, you’d asked Taylor. She’s been a great help in keeping track of everything, and you considered her a close friend; she’d joined game nights with Buck, Albert and Josh. She was a good friend and support to both Buck and you. Had even been your shoulder to cry on when communication had suffered in your relationship with Buck. Had offered sage advice.

The sound of the wedding march you hummed brought a smirk to your lips on the trip to the meeting room. Finally, you had time before your aunt and uncle arrived from San Diego for the wedding. Beau had juggled work around at the naval base to make it in time to walk you down the aisle. Not that they would miss this for the world with how deeply involved they were in your life.

“-married Buck. She’s my friend!” Taylor’s voice snapped through the crack of the door. Your hand hesitated in pushing it, “I can’t believe we’ve done this.”

“We’ve been-“

“Having communication problems? I’m aware of that, Buckley. I’m a bridesmaid in your fucking wedding. Sure, we haven’t slept together, but arguably we’ve done worse!”

“It’s not an affair.” Buck was firm in his response, and you could just imagine the crinkle in the skin between his eyebrows as he said that.

 “Look up an emotional affair.”

It was silent for a moment other than the sound of Buck tapping away on his phone, “Okay, well, we’ll just stop or take time away to get over- “

Your heart shattered because even in the face of his wrongdoing Buck still wanted her in his life long-term. Your mind slingshot through the last year with how distant he had gotten and how Taylor behaved when you brought him up. She sidestepped the conversation when it came to her love life.

“That’s the thing, Buck. I don’t want to. I don’t want you waiting at the end of the aisle, and maybe that makes me the biggest bitch.”

You didn’t comprehend shoving the door open to reveal the two of them standing so close together, “Absolutely hilarious. The groom is being seduced by the bridesmaid! Tell her she’s delusional. That you wouldn’t waste thousands of dollars and peoples time for a selfish bitch looking to stomp on anyone for a news story.”

Your eyes focused on your fiancé. His blue eyes struggle to stay on your form.

“I can’t.” Buck quietly responded, shrinking in on himself, “I love her too.”

In the crisp morning air flowing in from the open French doors your heart audibly and cruelly shattered. Your soul shrivelled up, and you stumbled back, unable to look away from the wreckage of your relationship. Sure, Buck had always been immature and cowardly indecisive, but a cheater? You’d never expected that.

It took everything in you to tug the ring from your finger, “Fine. But you can march out to the room full of guests and tell them the wedding is off. That you decided that the redhead skank that took advantage of the 118 for a story is the reason you threw away a life with someone you love.”

You could read devastation in his eyes, but at the core of it, Evan Buckley, staunchly and often at the risk of self-destruction, yearned for respect and acceptance. And who was firmly in the centre of that? Bobby Nash.

“Bobby is going to be disgusted by your actions. And thank god we used your credit card, and everything is non-refundable.” You sweetly told your very much now ex-fiancé and turned to the bitch, “You seemed like such a pretty and smart woman Taylor, but your mind does not seem to work well. Must be lonely being the type of person you are to make games of destroying relationships.”

You had even fully turned on your feel when your eyes caught the group of surprised people just outside the French doors. Your lips quirked, noticing Hen and Karen’s son had been very obviously recording the scene.

“Enjoy the food and the open door on Buck and Taylor! But, unfortunately, I have a wedding dress to burn and an emergency appointment for STD testing.”

You strode through the crowd finding Athena holding up the duffle bag of your things, “I thought it was best I grab this and keep Buckley from attempting to stop you.” 

“Thank you, Athena.” You murmured, squeezing her arm on your way to where your Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Beau were waiting. You heard the whispers of people as Buck attempted to move through the crowd.

The wall of firefighters kept him from making it to the car pulling from the curb. The moment the car turned the corner, the strong front you’d had splintered in the arms of your aunt.

San Diego, California, Present Day

You hadn’t stepped in Los Angeles since the day your life fell apart, all thanks to a two-faced bitch and weak fiancé. You cut off contact with the friends you’d made with Buck and build a new life. You had changed your phone number, blocked Buck on everything and removed a lot of people from your social media.

You knew through the grapevine the short-lived relationship with Taylor had ended. May had mentioned roughly the last time you spoke to her a year ago that Taylor had reported on a story Buck had confided her on.

Your response to her was indifferent to the breakup news, and you only asked if Hen and Chim were okay. You refused to answer any personal questions and hesitantly agreed to consider having May visit during the summer.

You had worked hard with a therapist to navigate grieving for the life you had thought you’d have with Buck. You’d slowly put yourself back with the support of your family. And what you attested to be kismet stumbled into someone a year after settling into Miramar.

You huffed, stumbling into a solid form and scrunched your eyes closed, waiting to hit the deck, but it didn’t come. Cautiously your eyes opened to meet the jade-green ones of a lieutenant aviator going off from the gold wings pinned to his shirt.

“Whoa. Sorry there.” The husky voice caused the breath to catch in the back of your throat. You could hear the subtle but unmistakable drawl of a Southern accent.

“It’s okay.” You softly murmured, releasing your grip on his arms when he levelled you back on your feet, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Jake.” The stranger offered both his name and hand. His grip was firm but not suffocating as he shook your hand, “Can I help you?”

“My uncle Beau forgot his phone at home. So I was sent with it. I was barely walking the last time I was here.”

It took a while for Jake to wear both you and Beau down to take you out on a date, and the rest is what they call history. He was everything you wanted and weren’t looking for. His emotional maturity was astounding, and his firm expectancy of honesty and talking things through was welcomed.

Honestly, it was the healthiest relationship you’d ever been in. 

So it wasn’t a surprise when a year later, you’d gotten engaged and moved in together. Being with Jake was easy, and it wasn’t just because of how steady and solid he was, like the Allegheny River you visited not that long ago. You adored everything about him. From the old hand-me-down Bible, his grandpa gave him the day he got the Naval Academy acceptance letter to his weekly phone call with his parents.

You were ever grateful for how supportive Jake was when he cleared his schedule to join you in LA when Eddie invited you. Usually, you would have said no to your old friend, but he’d gotten crafty by having Chris ask you.

“You got this,” Jake murmured against your temple. Then, like it was second nature, you guided Jake around the house’s side to the backyard’s open gate.

The entire area was flooded with friends and family of the Diaz duo. You could see every one of the 118 and felt more than saw Chris slam into you.

“You’re here!” Chris beamed as you pushed one of his curls off his forehead, “I didn’t think you’d come!”

 “And miss watching your dad’s existential crisis at you becoming a teenager? Never.” You joked, kissing his head, “Chris, I’d like you to meet Jake and Ellie.”

Chris’s inquisitive eyes moved to the tall stranger standing with one hand on your lower back and the infant cradled on his chest. Chris had a feeling that Buck’s plan would burst into flames with how close you and this Jake guy were standing.

“Oh,” Chris murmured, looking over his shoulder to where Buck was chatting with Maddie and Chim.

Your smile softened at the blue tone, “I know it’s weird that I left LA after being with Buck and came back with someone new. I get that and take all the time you need, but you are still important to me, Christopher.”

Athena quickly snagged you from Jake’s side and dragged you to Hen and Karen beaming at you. Jake had already fallen into a conversation with Eddie about everything to do with Texas. You had a feeling football would be brought up. 

“I’d ask who he is, but I feel he’s not just a friend.” Buck had taken the first opportunity to approach you. You’d volunteered to get more napkins from the kitchen, and Buck had used a flimsy excuse.

“Hello, Evan.” You declared from behind the open cabinet door to the cupboard above the stove. Your eyes caught the blue napkins of Chris’ favourite show at the moment.

“How’re you?” 

You leaned back from the coverage of the cabinet to stare at him, stumped at his sudden question.

“Are you expecting me to burst out in song and dance to confess some sort of undying love for you?” You inquired, looking between his blue irises that made you uncomfortable with their evident love, “Because Buck. I don’t love you. I don’t even hate you, to be honest. I’ve moved past what happened.”

Buck couldn’t help but perk up when you admitted to not hating him like he had anticipated. He glossed over the part of your words, saying you didn’t have feelings for him because that tiny little hope fanned.

“If I had to put a name to what I feel when the odd time you’re brought up, it would be indifference. I have more important things now.” You informed your ex-fiancé with a perfectly timed movement to close the cabinet. It revealed the new ring sitting where the one he gave you used to sit.

Buck’s stomach dropped.

“Sweets?” Jake called as he entered the room. He barely gave Buck a glance because what did it matter? Jake had no reason to feel threatened by him, “Ellie-belly here is down for the count. We should head for the hotel and rest before we fly out.”

“My sweet girl.” You cooed leaning into the baby cradled on Jake’s hip to kiss her chubby cheek, “We’ll say our rounds and give Chris his present.”

You shot Buck a smile on your way back out to Eddie’s backyard to find the birthday boy in the mass. Jake split off back to Eddie while you made the rounds to the people you used to see almost every day. Your eyes fluttered back to him, listening to Eddie and cooing at your daughter.

“You look happy, Kid,” Bobby spoke upon joining Athena. His words brought your attention back to him, “You look at him like he hung the moon. And he looks like you did the same for him.”

Your lips quirked, “You say he hung the moon, but Bobby, I’d say he hung the galaxy.”

“I couldn’t help but notice the bling.” Karen grinned, gesturing to the ring on your finger, “When did that happen?”

 “A little over a year ago. We were in the middle of planning when Ellie came around, so we’re having a small wedding in Jake’s hometown. We fly out from LAX tomorrow. So you should all come down to San Diego for the party our friends are throwing us.”

With a hug from Athena and Bobby and a long one with Chris, you leaned against the car door as Jake carefully juggled your daughter into her car seat. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was perfect.

Tag List:

@websterss

[gabessquishytum]

We love to imagine Hob as the best boyfriend ever, and he is, but what if he gets carried away once he and Dream finally get together, and fucks up? Dream is absolutely in awe that Hob waited for him. He comes to realize that his friendship skills are pretty much non-existent, and he has been a shitty friend for the last six centuries. So, when Hob suddenly confesses his feelings (late friendly dinner something something, he got too emotional over the stars in Dream's eyes something something), Dream decides to do anything and everything to be the best partner ever. The problem is, his dating history sucks, his marriage fell apart, but he consoles himself with the thought that at least he's a good lay. That's when he comes to a second realization of millennia - he is not, in fact, a good lay at all. All of his affairs were very brief, he never spent a significant time with his partner, and even when he was married, he and Calliope were mostly minding their own business, each of them too passionate about their respective domains. Dream decides to solve the problem in the most Dream way - to go with the flow, the flow being Hob's desires in this case. And Hob, having lusted over his stranger for six hundred years, just can't get enough. They start with regular sex, but things progressively get more and more kinky - by Hob's initiative. And when he learns of Morpheus' omnipotence in the Dreaming - holy fuck, he's just bursting with ideas. Dream does his best to accommodate all of them, though deep inside, he reluctantly admits that he's not really into any heavy kinks. Actually, he's not into kinks at all and prefers a very standard vanilla sex, which, in his eyes, is unforgivable for someone who contains a collective unconscious with all its wet dreams and sexual fantasies. Hob is too enraptured by their blossoming romance, Dream's powers, and his own lust to notice that Dream gets more and more depressed as time goes by. Perhaps it lasts for months, and eventually, it's Desire who snaps after watching this horny shitshow from afar and gives Hob a shovel talk. They don't have the best relationships with Dream, alright, but this is too much even for them. Despair joins them because she's also done with Dream lingering in her realm - he has his own, can he just stay there, please? She'd rather hang out with her rats. Hob is petrified when he sees how much he fucked up. And it's not like HE is into heavy kinks himself - it's funny to experiment, yes, but he's experimented enough in his lifetime, and he'd be pretty happy with vanilla sex with Dream. He'd be happy with Dream even with no sex at all, he simply got carried away, and he also wanted to impress his stranger with all his skills. Who knew how wrong it would go...And who knows how to fix it all now? Lots of hurt/comfort potential!

Ah, I love these idiots so much. I am absolutely enraptured with the idea of Desire stepping in to do some kind of marriage counselling, by the way. They grab Dream by the scruff of his neck, plop him down in a chair next to Hob, and they refuse to let either of them go until feelings have been talked about and everything is okay again.

First of all Hob is tearing his hair out because HOLY SHIT he's a bad boyfriend!!! He didn't mean it of course, but he fucked up!!! Desire smacks him over the head again and tells him to stop feeling sorry for himself, though. He can't fix this with self deprecation.

Dream also gets a smack (albeit not as heavy handed) because if he doesn't start talking, Desire is going to do it for him! They will NOT allow Dream to be crushed and walked all over by another shitty partner but they will also not allow Dream to sabotage this all by himself.

So: Dream is coerced into making a list of the sexual things he actually wants to do with Hob in both the waking and the dreaming. Dream is so embarrassed and horrified because his list is like, 4 items long and he feels like a failure! But he's surprised because Hob seems so pleased. Now he knows what Dream actually likes, and apparently that makes him happy.

Desire is quite pleased by their little counselling venture. Maybe they'll take it up as a hobby. If Dream can finally get back to experiencing authentic desire, and Hob can finally get back to being world's best boyfriend, then they'll consider it a job well done.

And Dream does eventually become a very lay, by the way. Turns out he just needed practice, and the opportunity to just do the things that he likes. Which he absolutely deserves - as do we all!

[thestrangestthing89]

I really don't like how terms meant for adult relationships keep getting applied to children. It happens a lot with the Mike/Will/El dynamic. I think it's often being done by really young parts of the fandom trying to sound more mature or trying to legitimize the Mike/El relationship. But it's really problematic and overlooks a lot of what's going on here. Some of it is obviously absurd - like calling Will a home wrecker. This term is for married couples and they are fresh out of middle school. Mike and El don't have a home to wreck. But some of it just simplifies the issue at hand - like saying Mike and Will are emotionally cheating. This implies there is an affair happening and they are young teens so it just sounds silly. Affairs are for adults. Not to mention that Mike and El's relationship is not deep. It's a silly middle school relationship that basically only qualifies as a relationship because they say that's what it is. They don't have the dynamics of a romantic relationship. No one is cheating here. Mike and Will are two scared kids who have heard their whole lives that being gay is bad and wrong. We know Will at least got bullied his whole life for this, both at school and by his father. It's likely Mike was too, but if he wasn't he still heard Will getting abused for this through their whole childhood. They've been taught their feelings are wrong. So they are pretending not to have them or trying very hard to ignore them. Mike and El are only together because they both think they are supposed to and they are trying to be normal. They want to fit in with the other kids. This doesn't mean they don't care about each other but there is a big difference between that and having a serious relationship. Mike and Will have known each other since childhood and have always had an emotional bond and close relationship. It didn't just start suddenly when El came into the picture. It's just how their relationship is. So Mike isn't suddenly emotionally cheating on El. He's acting the same way he's always acted with Will. Nothing about their dynamic has changed. There are a lot of implications when terms like this are used but my main problem is the one that says El's feelings are the only one's that matter. As if Mike and Will are horrible people for having feelings when El exists. They aren't and Mike isn't using her any more than she's using him. They both want to feel normal and use this relationship to accomplish that. There is this outcry of "what about El" whenever people bring up Byler and it's not ok. El's feelings are important but they aren't the only ones that are and no one is required to suffer to make her happy. She also doesn't love Mike or want to be in a relationship with him so it doesn't even matter. But Mike and Will are allowed to have feelings for each other even when Mike and El are together. There is this idea that they can't because it will somehow ruin the "purity" of Mike and Will's dynamic and this is so, so problematic. There aren't always clear lines drawn when one relationship ends and another starts. It in no way means that peoples feelings in the second relationship are less legitimate. No relationship is perfect and expecting them to be is unfair and unrealistic. It doesn't make their relationship less serious because Mike was in another one first (I would argue he was with Will first anyway just because he's known him longer).

A label doesn't need to be attached to this dynamic at all. They can just be confused and scared kids who are figuring out how to navigate their feelings. That's all it is. There is no need to judge them for not navigating this perfectly. No one ever does.

[violetlunette]

A recolor of Princess Leah, Silver’s birth mom. (My version, at least.) The other color is here

Behold! My version of Leah, aka, Silver’s birth mother. I know that the popular fanon for her is that Leah was a strong, take-no-bullshit-from-anyone Lady who kicks her brother around like a soccer ball and is an all-around Girl Boss, but I imagine her as the opposite. Below is my long-winded / thought-too-hard history for Leah. Notes: *Spoilers for Book / Chapter 7 *Long post. Apparently, I had a lot to say. *My version of Leah’s tale is an angsty one with no happy end. Speaking of which; Trigger Warnings: *Mentions Emotional Abuse and Mental Abuse along with Gaslighting *There is value dissonance at play, which includes underage marriage, sex and pregnancy, as in the medieval time period where Lilia’s memories take place, marrying young was acceptable and encouraged. That being said, the problematic stuff will be treated as such. *Mentions of a rough birth

My version of Leah is a tragic figure lost to history like many Princesses before her. All her life, Leah carried an intense guilt in her heart as her mother died in childbirth birth, leaving her behind with a resentful King and Henrik. The King, in particular, disliked her as he believed that Leah was the result of an affair as Leah was far too beautiful to be his. (He wasn’t a handsome man and always had difficulties believing his gorgeous wife ever loved him.) As such, the King neglected her, and Henrik, following his father’s example, did the same. When they did meet the two were cold and poisonous to her, often belittling every mistake she made. And sadly, she made a lot as she was always jittery from nerves. Because of the mental and emotional abuse inflicted upon her along with a lifetime of gaslighting, Leah became very fragile and timid as she was often bellowed at. It became her nature to become quiet and soft-spoken as being otherwise resulted in harsh punishment, especially from her strict governess, who was as kind as Tremaine was to Cinderella. Even so, she adored her father and brother as much as Silver loved Lilia. Thus, she always forgave them and made excuses for their behavior. “Father and brother are just stressed from their duties.” “They’re right to scold me. As a Princess, I should be better.” “I stole their beloved person away, so they have every right to hate me.” Leah to earn their love by helping the kingdom. While this didn’t earn the affection of her family, she did gain favor with the people. It was actually because of her that the King adopted the Orphans. Leah naively brought them all to live at the castle when she saw the state of the orphanage and her father didn’t want to lose face with the people, so he took them all as wards. (Though as soon as he had the orphans, he turned them over to the army, arguing that it was the best way to give them a future.) The one joy Leah had in life was the fairy tale books she had, which spoke of true love and whatnot, tales she believed 100% as there was no one to temper her expectations. This is partly why she fell in love instantly with the Knight of the Dawn when she met him. Speaking of which:

Leah met the Knight when he saved her from a kidnapping. Seeing him as her hero from a fairytale, she fell in love instantly as he inspired feelings within her that no one had before. (Puppy’s first love.) After this, Leah hung around him often, creating rumors that the two were in love. When the King fell sick, Henrik left with the Knight to create Lilia’s tragic backstory, while Leah stayed behind to pray for everyone day and night. She also attempted to use healing magic on him to keep him alive, even though her magic lay in dreams. (Note: her unique magic was the same as Silver’s. She often used this magic to update the Knight on the King’s condition.) When the two returned, the King was cured. As a “reward,” the King gave Leah to the Knight as his bride and sent both to rule over the fae land the Knight “won” for the humans. The King did this as he worried the Knight’s popularity would be a threat to Henrick’s rule in the future. Thus, his Majesty decided that sending the Knight away was the best option, and allowing him to marry Leah had the King keep face with the people. After all, how can allowing the Knight to wed the beautiful Princess, whom he “loved” and be allowed to rule the land he claimed for them not be a reward for his bravery? Leah was overjoyed as she believed marrying the Knight was the happy ending to her tale and that there would only be joy in her life. Thus, Leah and the Knight were wedded three days later—even though the Knight was a traumatized seventeen / sixteen-year-old while Leah was only fourteen.

The two are sent overseas, where Leah gets pregnant two months after their wedding. The pregnancy is rough on its own due to her age, but other factors make it rough as well. Instead of the happy ending she dreamed of, Leah has to deal with a husband who is suffering from severe PTSD, not helped by living in the castle of the “innocent” woman he killed. On top of that, there were enemy fae constantly trying to reclaim the stolen land. One even tried to assassinate her while pregnant. The only help she had was the royal chancellors, who were more concerned with their ambitions than her and often took advantage of her trusting nature and ignorance. There was also the Diurnal, who also have their own goals, and the fairy godmothers, who try their best but are limited in what they can do. Despite this, she persisted and tried to stay optimistic, doing what she could. But then—she discovered something that shatters her heart. One day, during an argument, Leah learned the Knight never loved her. At least not romantically. He only saw her as a darling kid sister and his Princess. However, he was too timid to reject the King or correct the people who misunderstood their relationship. This is the final crack that finally breaks Leah’s heart. No one loved her. No one ever would. Realizing this, she isolates herself, not even coming out to say goodbye to the Knight when he goes to handle what she is told is a land dispute. A few weeks later, the fairy godmothers tell her he died, and they gift her his ring for the baby. The despair she feels sends her into premature labor.

The process was rough, and Leah nearly passed away. She survived thanks to the fairy godmothers. Holding her child, she realized that he looked just like his father and believed that, like him, he’d never love her. The Princess tried to care for the baby but wasn’t emotionally or mentally able to handle a baby. On top of that, she has trouble producing milk for him. This worsened her depression, as Leah believed that not only did she fail as a daughter and a wife but as a mother as well. One day, the castle is attacked due to her advisors screwing up. As the castle started to collapse, Leah tried to reach her baby but was unable to get past the collapsing rubble. Thus, she had no choice but to leave him to the fairy godmothers. Instead of running, she tried to fight off the enemy and give the godmothers time to save her child. However, because of her broken state, she blots over almost immediately. In her Overblot form, she killed everyone, friend and foe alike, till only Silver, protected by the Fairies magic, remained.

When she was done, not even a corpse remained (hence the lack of bodies when Lilia arrived 400 years later). Then, Leah vanished, drained of life and magic by her Phantom, who wanders away, not leaving even a trace of the Princess.

Notes about Leah; *When creating her, I wanted Leah to be Malenore’s opposite in almost every way. Appearance-wise, Malenore is a tall brunette with an imposing appearance. Leah is small (mainly due to age) and blonde with a delicate disposition. Malenore was strong-willed and arrogant to sin—albeit, with reason. Leah was humble to a fault and fragile, as her name implied. (Leah can mean “weary” and “delicate /fragile” as well as “heavenly flower.”) Malenore was loved by her family, however, they were distant (if Malefica’s relationship with her was anything like the one with Malleus). Leah was close in proximity to her family but was hated by them. The dragon Princess was beloved by all who knew her, including her “knight.” Leah was admired by the people but never loved. (Or at least that’s how she felt, especially by the end.) Malenore was an adult—a young adult but still an adult—while Leah was a child. Maleonre will be remembered by history and those she loved, while Leah was forgotten to the point she was barely a memory, only recalled in passing. However, they had things in common as well, such as losing their husbands while they stayed behind to “incubate” their children. They then died to give others a chance to save their sons. And, regardless, they were doomed by the narrative to never be a part of their children’s lives. *Funnily enough, despite being fragile, Leah did have her own strength as she was still able to stand and keep trying despite all the times her heart got broken. It was just she had no one to teach her how to fight, and she was forced to endure things even an adult would struggle with. Had she time, Leah would have been a loving and doting mother to Silver. Silver, in turn, would have been more of a momma’s boy than Deuce and super protective.

Real quick on the Knight—because this post isn’t long enough—I hope no one thought I was villainizing him. I just took what I saw in canon—him not being able to stand up to the royal family and his need to please everyone—and used it to contribute to their tragedies. Anyway, that’s my overly long headcanon for Princess Leah. Thank you for reading it all, and feel free to share your thoughts and your own version of Leah.

[hello-nichya-here]

Why do you say Ted is worse than Ross

Because he is - and I say this as someone whose least favorite character of the main six in Friends is Ross because the dude can piss me off A LOT.

Ross is selfish, whinny, spoiled, obsessive and immature like Ted. But the writers of Friends were far more self-aware than the writers of How I Met Your Mother - mainly because they were not using Ross as a self-insert, and would not use Twitter to say shit like "If you ship Rachel with Joey instead of with Ross, you're the reason people like Trump get elected and destroy nations." No, I am not kidding, that actually happened.

Ted CONSTANTLY acts like a creep and the show treats it as fully romantic, and if a woman (mainly Robin) is turned off by it, the show tries to spin it as "She's afraid of commitment" or some bullshit. When Ross is getting possessive over Rachel the show actually allows her to call him out and she doesn't always run straight to his arms - not to mention, she can act just as unreasonable and entitled, meanwhile the most Robin does is say "Maybe, someday, if we're both single and miserable and no one else wants either of us, I'd consider marrying you."

Even Ross's most absurd moments get a bit more of pass because they're (usually) meant to:

1 - Show that the character is flawed (Him constantly getting paranoid that Rachel is gonna cheat on him with her co-worker is meant to show he's insecure, jealous, possessive AND doesn't listen when she repeatedly says she loves HIM, not this other dude - though the writers do still want the audience to root for him and Rachel to find a way to make it work)

2 - Make a joke about how he's kind of insane (see him not telling Rachel they're still married because he can't have another failed marriage - a situation in which NO ONE in the cast makes excuse for him, and we even have Chandler rightfully saying "At point did you think this was a successful marriage?")

Meanwhile the writers of HIMYM did things like:

1 - Say Ted breaking up with a girl on her birthday, through an answering machine that all the guests in her surprise party heard before she did, finding her years later, winning her back, then breaking up with her on her birthday AGAIN is totally just what was meant to be because "Well, she found true love later"

2 - Have him use "It was past 2am" as an excuse to cheat on his girlfriend/lie to Robin about being single to sleep with her.

3 - Make him have an emotional affair with a married woman that then left her husband (who thought of Ted as friend) for him, accept getting back together with his ex that was engaged and then left the groom at the altar, and make a move on his ex that was engaged to one of his best friends on the weekend on their wedding.

4 - HAVE TED TELL HIS KIDS HE WANTS TO TELL A STORY ABOUT HOW HE MET THEIR DEAD MOTHER, BUT IT'S ACTUALLY ABOUT HOW HE ALWAYS LOVED A DIFFERENT WOMAN THAT HE WAS STILL OBSESSED WITH AFTER 25 YEARS.

Not to mention, even the stuff in Friends that genuinely did not age well at all and that the writers weren't self-aware about in any way have a bigger excuse than the stuff HIMYM did because Friends started in 1994 and ended in 2004, yet HIMYM was on the same level, if not worse, and it started in 2005 and ended in 2014. There's a reason audiences tolerated Ross's shenanigans way more than they tolerated Ted's - Friends was a product of it's times, HIMYM felt behind it's time. Ross feels like a typical character you'd see in the 90's, Ted feels like the hero of every "Nice Guy" that is actually not nice at all.

Plus, Ross had much better chemistry with Rachel than Ted ever did with Robin (or literally any love interest except the Mother) and the series made sure to never give us an alternative pairing that was much better than the planned one like HIMYM did with Barney and Robin (and I say this as someone that ships Joey and Rachel). And while Josh Radnor made the rare good scene of Ted feel great, David Schiwimmer, and the entire cast of Friends really, made mediocre or downright bad scenes enjoyable or at least tolerable. The only one in the HIMYM cast with the same talent was Neil, who was playing the character that we were not supposed to actually want to see get the girl, which just made it even easier for audiences to root for Barney, not Ted.

It's just a perfect storm of different factors that makes a character like Ross getting a happy ending after all the shit he pulled MUCH easier to accept than when that happens to a Ted type, hence the finale of Friends still being incredibly beloved by nearly everyone, while HIMYM's ending was absolutely hated to the point that it shelved the planned spin off and put the showrunner's careers in limbo for nearly a decade.

[smokingtomas]

Goodbye, Hasashi

Summary: Takes place before the event of Mortal Kombat, you find yourself dealing with the certainty of losing Hanzo Hasashi, the captivating son of Shirai Ryu’s grandmaster whom you’ve been having a secret affair with, to someone else’s embrace in an arranged marriage. (Hanzo Hasashi/Female Reader)

AO3 / original Tumblr post / playlist

A/N: This fic is sort of an ode to the past– a fic that was written 7 years ago that I was highly insecure about. This was the last fic before I took a 6 month break and hadn’t created any fics for Mortal Kombat up until my recent one because this one really wore me out. I had been through hell and back to getting this published– quite literally had to drive myself to gloom to convey the emotions into this sole fic.

Reading it now, I’ve decided that I’m going to give it a proper love I hadn’t given back then. I really used to make fun of this– thinking this was cringey, which was unfair to my past self. But thankfully, I’ve grown up and am able to appreciate this a lot more. I didn’t even edit that much.

So If you are reading this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I really hope you could feel how much this means to me these days.

Whew, sorry for the long/sentimental A/N.

“We visited Harumi and her family today.”

As soon as he speaks of those words, your entire body feels numb. The teapot you were tilting earlier immediately bumps the cup over, causing some of the tea to spill and mess your tabletop up. You can feel your lower lip slightly tremble– thankfully biting the inside of your mouth helps a little bit, but you are certain the gloom within your eyes can’t hide the pain.

What kind of strange woman wouldn't be hurt when her beloved is forced to leave her to be tied with some other woman? And to make it even worse, for political reasons.

This is Hanzo Hasashi you’re talking about. 

The feisty, passionate and… handsome son of the Grandmaster of Shirai Ryu whom you’ve been having a secret affair with for what, four-five months? Yes, it hasn’t been a lifetime, but for you, it does mean something in spite of how young you and him are.

Oh, but the relationship isn’t perfect. Both of you have to keep it a secret since you are nothing but a filthy huntress with no title and no one considering you-- your skills for survival are probably the only thing that has been keeping you alive for so long. If the Grandmaster ever found out about you two? Ah, the possibility of burying you alive is real.

Though to you, being in love with someone like Hanzo Hasashi and to have him love you back is like shooting for the stars, but got the moon instead. For once in your life, you feel like you’ve done something too good that this is blessed to you as your reward.

Turns out, it is nothing but an illusion. Because soon, he will fall into someone else’s embrace.

It’s not that he said something, but you knew that tonight is your last night with him as he mentioned a few nights ago about getting married the next day from now. No, you’re not actually planning on a sad farewell night, but staying positive is no simple task.

Time does fly indeed, and how you wish you realized this earlier. If it is possible to turn back time, you’d definitely do it just so you can hold him longer a few more times… or at least caress that pompous face of his every time he thinks he has impressed you with something he does...  

You will miss the way how light always pierces through his hazel eyes and makes them look sort of aglow-- if you could, you would look at them forever. You will miss how he rubs his nose every time he gets nervous and he always tells you to stop teasing him about it.

You will miss how his stubble slightly pierces you every time he presses his face against your skin. How he knows it itches you but he keeps on teasing you with it anyway. Though he knows you like it every time he buries his face on the crook of your neck when he makes sweet love to you.

Oh, Hanzo… how could you survive without him now?

As you feel a tear rushing towards the brink of your eye, you bring a finger up and wipe it away… realizing how much time is wasted since the first time you laid your eyes on his features.

Those eminences of him that hit you all at once. That one sunny day when peaches were harvested; the day that’s impossible to forget...

//

It was the time of the month when peaches were blooming beautifully. Everywhere you looked-- from trees to the market stalls-- there were those ripe, mouthwatering goodness. The sun shone friendly along with the thin air that would occasionally blow the thin strands of your locks. Birds were swarming beneath the bright blue sky stretching majestically above you, and some of them that were perching on trees seemed to be enjoying the sweet smell of the sunset-colored fruit by the way they chirped so cheerfully.

And there you were with a belly filled completely with peaches you picked earlier, cozying yourself up above a larger, leafier tree on one of its bigger branches as you soaked up the warmth of the sun, resting your head above your hands. The crystal clear lake spreaded close to the tree streamed calmly in sync with the crisp air, sending those leaves slow dancing and making them let out a calming shrivel. This was the kind of surrounding that could send those insomniacs drift off in no time, and the drowsiness just kicked in to you.

Your eyes were getting heavier at this point, but you could care less-- you could drift off any second and you weren’t fighting it. Eyelashes swung as your mouth parted slightly in comfort. Oh, it really was a good day to sleep…

When you just thought nothing could bother you at this moment, crunches were heard next to your tree, followed by a sound of a frustrated male groan. Your eyes shot open at the remark and you knew something was caught in the trap you had set earlier today.

Now, you set the trap for animals-- something you could surely eat, but why was the male sound present?

Hastily, you maneuvered yourself and climbed down the tree. Of course, you were dying to find out what was going on, and what laid before your eyes was way out of your expectation that you felt your jaw drop slightly.

And there was Hanzo Hasashi; inside your net trap hanging strongly beneath a tree trunk, letting his mid-length hair down framing his solid cheek bone. Beads of sweat dripped from his temple and you were guessing he had been running. His callous fingers were shaking the net while his other hand held a whole bunch of peaches, and you could see some of them sliding off his grip onto the ground. Frantic was clearly drawn all over his face, but what you couldn’t get your head wrapped around was the fact that he was dressed in a lousy brown hoodie and torn, old cargo pants.

Instantly, you recognized that face-- who wouldn’t? This was the first time you’ve seen him up close and… well he didn’t look bad. But you figured it would be fun to mess with him since he always looked so serious.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” You uttered smugly as you swung your knife. “Was expecting a deer, but got the Grandmaster’s son dressed like a hobo instead.”

His forehead wrinkled at your remark as his lips formed a perfect ‘o’, “What the… how did you know?!”

“Easy, you got one of those kunai in your pocket,” You scoffed, “And your mask fell off.”

He did not look happy by the way he palpated his bare face before letting out a growl, obviously just realizing his mask went down to his neck, “Alright look, huntress! You need to help me off and hide me! Quick!”

“And how could you think I would do that, Hasashi?”

“Because I just stole these peaches from the market!”

As you placed your knife back in one of your boots, you almost bursted out of laughter hearing his explanation. The son of Grandmaster stealing fruits? Now, that was funny. 

“What? Like you can’t afford it?” You mocked sarcastically.

“I was undercover and things sprawled out of my control so--” He snarled once again. “Listen! I don’t have time for this. The villagers are chasing me, and I need your help!”

“You know, help doesn’t come free these days. Even huntresses need some--” You cleared your throat, “Gold.”

Rolling his eyes in advance, he finally gave up, “Alright, I will hand you 50 gold coins if you let me off your net and hide me-- but quick!”

“50 golds? Okay, I’ll keep your stolen peaches for you.”

“100!”

“I’ll keep your peaches, and probably won’t eat them.”

“You’re robbing me, huntress!” He exclaimed irritatedly, “Final offer; 150 golds, and you must help me.”

Satisfied with his offer-- and messing around with Grandmaster’s son-- you finally agreed as you got your knife out and made your way towards him to free him. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

As you were cutting the ropes off the branch, for a split second you thought you could feel his eyes on you. Reflectively, you looked up to meet him. From the distance so close, the features of his face hit you all at once; his perfectly carved bone structure with light stubble framing his… alright, you had to admit he’s gorgeous. Though what hooked you the most were those sharp hazel eyes.

And then you felt your heart skip a beat.

Trying to regain your focus, you chose to ignore this weird feeling as you shook your head back to reality, keeping your hand on the work.

“Can’t you cut faster? They’re coming!” Exclaimed Hanzo.

“Hey, I could easily leave you here if you keep that attitude.” You replied without stopping your rough work.

Thankfully, he only clenched his teeth at your remark-- that was the least he can do, so you couldn’t complain.

Before you knew it, all the ropes were cut and his feet were set on the solid ground. All the peaches he was holding earlier fell onto the ground and you think he could care less in the way he sighed in relief.

“Now go climb that big, leafy  tree over there. As high as your feet can take you.” You ordered as you pointed to the tree you were resting on earlier. Without saying anything else, Hanzo quickly rushed towards the tree while you cleared his tracks by covering your net trap and peaches with some fallen leaves.

As footsteps and chatter were heard from a distance, you spread the leaves as nonchalantly as you could as if you were just about to set a trap-- just another day in the office.

Sooner than you had expected, a swarm of villagers were moving towards you, and they were bringing all kinds of things they could use as a weapon: a stick, shoes, even some fabric which you had assumed would be used to catch Hanzo.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop now!” You commanded, stretching your hands out to them as they immediately paused their tracks, “You take another step and all of you will get inside an animal trap I just set up hours ago.”

“Did you see a street boy coming this way?” Asked one of the villagers, “He stole my peaches!”

“I’ve been here for hours, and I’ve seen nobody. I can’t help you.” You replied.

“But I saw him go this way!” Another villager shouted, “And look! There’s a peach on the ground!”

Good God, what kind of eyes do these people have?!

“Hey, I picked those earlier as a part of my trap!” You lied.

“Bullshit! I don’t believe her! It’s just her way to save her kind. I say we go this way!” Another villager decided to interlope and crunk the heat of the situation.

“For the last time, I’ve been here for hours and I don’t see nobody coming by, alright? If you don’t believe me, please take another step so you all can rot together inside my trap!” You threatened the villagers which sent them into dead silence. Some of them actually showed fear on their faces and were debating if they should go back.

“Hey, what are you all waiting for? Go! Now! You’re scaring my food!” You demanded as the villagers went another way with nothing left to say-- you could hear some of them curse behind their breaths, though.

As you watched them slowly disappear, you made your way towards the tree on which Hanzo was hiding as you looked around to make sure the situation was thoroughly cleared.

Looking up, you placed a palm close to your mouth as you shouted at him, “Get down, Hasashi! You’re safe.”

“Nicely deceived, huntress,” He complimented as he showed himself beneath the leaves while he tried to climb down, “Those people could’ve hurt you easily.”

“I may be a woman, but I’m immune to pain, y’know.” You scoffed.

Hanzo stopped in his track regarding your remark, and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “A little hard to believe, but--”

His voice trailed off as his feet stepped on a fragile branch and immediately lost his balance. It all happened so fast that the next thing you know after you shut your eyes in reflex of him falling off the tree was his robust figure over you.

The coarse feeling of the ground surely did not help the blinding pain on your head and hip.

“Ouch! Ah...” You grunted in pain as were him, “Fuck, you’re heavy as hell!”

Out of your expectation, Hanzo bursted out laughing at your remark over you as he rearranged his arms next to your head instead of immediately raising up to his feet. In this sort of inappropriate position of his, you could feel his perfectly sculpted chest above you and the unexpected tremor lining between your legs.

You were certain you could feel yourself blushing over the somewhat awkward situation, but in that moment, you were sure of one thing; he’s a hard candy with a surprise center.

But no, you weren't going to convey your thoughts aloud.

“What’s so funny, Hasashi?” You snapped under him.

“I knew you weren’t immune to pain,” He replied playfully, “I’m always right.”

“You did this on purpose?!” You shouted as you gave his shoulder a push in order for you to raise up, “Ugh! Get off me you sicko!”

Even though he was still laughing uncontrollably, he did as you say and ascended up to his feet. He stretched a hand for you, but instead of taking it, you pouted your lips and got up by yourself.

Not because you didn’t want to, you just refused to give him any ideas.

As he regained his self control and his laugh slightly dimmed-- but obviously still couldn’t get over it, he said: “Alright, alright, I apologize. And thank you, for your help.”

“For a Shirai Ryu, that was really shallow of you,” You pouted, crossing your arms, “But I guess I can let it go.”

As you were trying to straighten your dirty outfit, Hanzo asked: “So, have a name, huntress?”

Surprised by what you had heard, you turned your attention to him and scorned, “Yeah right, asking her name after getting them under you-- way to go, Hasashi!”

“It’s Hanzo,” He chuckled, “If you want to retrieve your gold, we need to see each other in a few days.”

“Is this how a Hasashi flirt?”

He shrugged at your remark, “I’m not exactly denying it, but suit yourself.”

You quickly turned your head away as you felt your cheek heating up. Despite him being good at this, you weren’t going to let him be an asshole about it.

Gathering your things as if you were ready to leave, you let out a chuckle at his remark as you hung your belongings on one shoulder, “Keep your gold, Hanzo. I don’t need it,” You assured before throwing him one of the peaches he had stolen which he reflectively caught with one hand.

“I only need one of these,” You added, sinking your teeth into another peach in your hand without caring about its juice that dripped all over your palm before you took some steps back away from him, “These are good peaches you have stolen.”

As the sight of him got slightly further, you could see him stretching both of his arms as he raised his tone, “So should I see you or not?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” You shouted.

“I really think I should!”

At his assertion, you stopped your tracks and sank your teeth inside the peach once more as you shrug, “Well, you’ve found my hideout.”

As you turned your attention back on the road, you found yourself smiling. As much as you were dying to see his facial expression, you decided not to and keep this little game of yours happening.

Without knowing what the future will bring.

//

“Are you there?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah.” Startled by the depth of his voice, you hurry your fingers and wipe the vestiges of your tears, settling your feet back to earth as the trip down the memory lane has you caught up. “I just-- I made a mess.”

You grab the steaming cup of tea as you make your way to the edge of the bed and hand him his beverage, sitting next to him afterwards. You’re not sure how you can make it through this night, but you need to try as if nothing’s going to happen tomorrow. For his sake.

“So uh…” Trying to sound as normal as possible, you mutter while he takes a sip from the cup,  “How is she?”

Hanzo deliberately retreats the cup off his lips and rests his forearm above his thigh. The way his head falls tells you that sorrow is consuming him alive. His hazel eyes that usually glow with spirit are now covered by woe. 

As a sigh escapes his mouth, he simply replies, “She’s… kind.”

“I bet she’s beautiful.” Your lips twitch up into a wry smile. “More beautiful than what people have said about her.”

For what you have heard about Harumi, her beauty is beyond compare to even the most beautiful flower. Her long hair is the color of a midnight sky with ivory skin wrapped around her slender, small figure. People even say that her honey colored eyes beam brighter than the moonlight, and when she speaks, her voice is as soothing as a summer rain.

At your remark, Hanzo takes a short pause before he weakly shrugs, still refusing to turn his attention to you.

As you run your fingers through his soft, black locks, your gaze is locked at his complexion you’ve grown to love that not even the chill of misty, starless night sky displayed beneath your window pane overshadowed his beauty. No matter how much you’d love to mourn with him, you know you need to stay strong for him and not making this fucked up situation even worse.

Though if you look back, you wish you’d never meet him.

But ah, it’s too little too late now; you’ve fallen for him. You should’ve been ready for the risk of having to give him up to someone else-- someone better than you. You must be kidding yourself if you think he’d actually be your forever.

“It doesn’t matter,” He suddenly utters, “She’s not you.”

“And that’s better, right? I mean, look at me.” You scoff, ”Who am I kidding? I--”

“Can you stop making this about you for once?!” Cutting you off, his strenuous voice suddenly fills the empty room as he recoils your fingers off him. His profound gaze towards you clearly shows nothing but unhappiness.

“Hanzo, who says this is about me? I’m just trying to make it better for you.” You assure firmly.

“All you’ve been doing is making this worse for me!”

“How is that so?” 

“Did you think I asked for this? Did you think I wanted to make this choice?” He bleaks. Eyes gleaming with pain, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this.

“Well, no, but--”

“Then your attempt on making it better is useless! Because it’s sad enough for me to have to choose the clan over you!”

As he winds his attention away from you and buries his face above his palm, you sense the frigid of the night starts seeping inside your bones. This empty space you call your sanctuary feels even more depressing than it already is. You gently press your palms against the wonky mattress so it’ll make some noise within the silence that’s slowly killing you.

At this moment, you’re lost for words. You feel like you should say something, but your jaw feels rigid and your throat is just drying away. Even the spider in the corner of the room seems to have more of an idea of what it’s doing as its little feet slowly knitting its web. 

Unlike you. Clueless of what to say-- let alone doing something about it. You know you shouldn’t have fallen this deep with someone as powerful as the son of Shirai Ryu’s grandmaster, but for some reason your heart calls for him, and you knew in that moment you laid your eyes on his hazel ones, he’s what it’s longing for.

But why is it longing for someone you know you shouldn’t go for? How you wish you could rip your heart off your chest and throw it into the ocean, even though you know it wouldn’t be as painful as how you’re feeling right now.

“Wow…” You finally mumble slowly, relieving the silence.

“What?”

“You’re madly in love with me, aren’t you?”

At your remark, Hanzo gradually lifts his head and turns his interest to you. Unlike before, he looks much calmer right now, but you can tell he’s still absorbing the pain of this state like a sponge. It’s like he knows you already know the answer to your own question-- heck, you’re not even sure why you asked such a question in the first place.

But one thing you know for sure-- whatever his answer is, it’s going to crush your soul.

Whilst he elevates his shoulders, he lets out a sigh. “To the point where I would actually give it all up,” Hanzo weakly answers.

At this point, you can already hear your heart cracking through your ears.

“By the Gods…” You grumble, running your fingers through your locks as you shortly stand up and taking a few steps away from him, heading to the small, dusty window ahead of you. Greeting you is a cloudy night sky-- a sky so cloudy that even the moon chooses to hide itself underneath the thick, gray clouds; a bed of sky that perfectly describes your feelings.

In a perfect world, if someone just told you they’re madly in love with you, your heart will fly as if it had wings of its own. Turns out in your case, the wings your heart once had are torn apart by force.

You know he loves you-- he’s said it before. But madly? Oh, how you wish you could ask him to stay. Though what’s breaking you the most is that you know you couldn’t.

As you feel your face heats up and clumps of tear start to cloud your vision, you can hear the bed squeaking with Hanzo’s footsteps following behind as he asks for your conviction, “Aren’t you?”

You press your palms against your eyes, gulping hard so your answer won’t be as croaky. After all, the point is to hide your sorrow from him.

Alas, your attempt seems to fail as you feel a tear slide down your left cheek, and you just find it hard to even contain yourself, “To the point where the whole world shatters with my heart when you told me you’re marrying somebody else.”

All of the sudden, you can feel two robust arms gently wrapped around your figure together with a strong cheekbone resting on the side of your face. The familiar warmth instantly drowns you in and you welcome the strong arms in your embrace. You don’t even mind the stubble that you normally would push away because of how it pierces through your skin, but you know even your skin will miss the slight roughness when it’s gone.

“I know,” Hanzo responds simply by leaving a peck on your temple, “I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry too…” You bring one hand to caress his cheek, which slowly trails down to the side of his neck, “Shirai Ryu needs you, Hanzo. Don’t ever give it up, especially for me.”

“I just never thought that-- I would have to lose you for it.” He brittles, keeping his gaze far away as if he’s looking for some understanding.

“It’s the risk we should’ve prepared for.” You enlighten him as you turn yourself around and face him, cupping his jaw afterwards. His hand slowly slides down at your movement and you adore how they circle your waist perfectly. “ If I could turn back time, I really wish we’d never met-- let alone giving you a helping hand. Because even then I know, if I ever fell for you, I could never get back up.”

As your hands gradually travel to the nape of his neck, you pull him closer to you as he closes his eyes. His heavy breath pools down your frame and you add, “And now, I guess it got the best of me.”

At your confession, Hanzo stays still as if he's decided to get lost in your embrace and enjoy the closeness between him and your features. His hands stay ringing on your lower back and you don't think you'd want him to ever let go.

At the same time your fingers dig through his scalp, you whisper as you let out a feeble smile, “But you're my sweetest doom, Hasashi. And I've never felt more alive.”

It feels like you haven't had time to absorb your next move, but the next thing you know is that his lips brushes against yours like a drop of water in the middle of Sahara-- a kiss so chaste, so pure it could brace even the faintest heart.

As soon as he retracts himself, he mumbles, “Anata wa watashi no yume no josei da.” 

You're the woman of my dreams. His words are like a magnet to your soul and you’re instantly drawn to him. Another drop of tear slithers down your cheek as you let out a weak chuckle, and your lips yearn for him in a blink of an eye.

Against his lips, you let your lips slow dance with his moist ones as if it has a mind of its own, cupping his jaw and you let his hands roam every inch of your body. In this very tranquility-- and with his lips attached to yours, what’s been troubling your mind seems to be forgotten. Maybe making these last moments just for the two of you to embrace might be the best.

Still, you and Hanzo devour each other in your own utopia, and you’re not planning on letting go soon. Even when the heat of his hands slowly but skilfully undo the buttons of your top, your mind has its own way to stop working.

And as if new minds are planted at your fingertips, you let them do their work in unclasping his belt and out of his uniform.

You’re not sure how long it takes for your back to finally feel the softness of the bedsheet, but you know at that moment, your brain has retired and your heart is at work.

And for the rest of the night, there are only moans, ragged breathing, and the creak of the bed to be heard.

/

“I love you. Did you know that?” Hanzo’s voice is low and tense.

His gaze meets yours in the dim room filled with candle light. You rest your head above his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your figure. Legs intertwined and there’s nothing you love more than how his bare, warm skin collides with yours in silence under the sheet. The way his thumb slowly flatters your chin lets you know that he means what he says.

“Kind of,” With a smile, you nod, “You’ve said it a few times by now.”

You don’t need anymore assertion from him by the way he harbors his lips on your forehead softly. You’re not sure what it is with the forehead kisses he gives, but all you know is that they give you the thrill, and you can even feel it even through his fingertips that still caresses your back.

“Hanzo,” You call him tenderly, to which he responds with a small hum, “Do you have any regrets?”

For a split second, his forehead wrinkles as if he’s thinking about the true meaning of your random question, but he doesn’t keep you waiting until you start to get nervous.

“Ah, regrets?” He sighs, “I think my life itself is based on it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… by now you must have been aware that being born into a clan isn’t something I ask for. When I grew up and accepted it, my father didn’t allow me to participate in the clan’s business-- quite strange, but again, I accepted it until he proposed this...”

His voice suddenly trails off before he rolls away from you. Your body still lies above his arm, but the empty gaze he’s showing tells you that he’s trying his best to stay composed. Even though you swear for a split second there you see his eyes sort of glisten.

“...forced marriage I don’t even want, and making it the only way for me to be involved in Shirai Ryu.” Hanzo continues.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper weakly, not knowing what to say but to move your body closer to him and rest your palm on his chest, supporting your weight with your other arm.

A hopeless sigh leaves his mouth at your remark. His eyes are fixed to the torn out paint mark on the roof as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world, but you know the corner of his eyes are watching you.

Despite the woe that is drawn clearly through his face, he still looks beautiful.

Shortly, however, he shifts his body to your direction so you’re now face to face as he mirrors your position, causing the sheet to maneuver in sync with the movement of his solid figure.

“But do you know what my biggest regret is?” Hanzo triggers.

You shrug in response, by which he answers, “It’s not being able to choose you.”

His words sure don’t catch you by surprise-- you’ve known all along about his feelings towards you, but it sure leaves your stomach knotting and your gaze to drop. 

When you thought things couldn’t get any worse, he adds as he reaches for your hand, “See, I’ve never thought about marriage until I-- until I fall in love with you. Since then, I always thought if I ever got married, it was going to be to you.”

And in this moment, your heart drops. And it’s smashed into pieces.

You wish you could decide your own fate if you knew you were going to fall this deep for him. You wish you’d been born someone else-- someone like Harumi just so you could stay with Hanzo. Or at least you wish your soul could leave your body and stay inside Harumi’s so you could still feel the warmth of his body next to you every night.

And in this moment, you hate yourself as much as you hate the universe.

It hurts to be you. It hurts so much that the pain seeps into your chest. You wish you could go up on a limb and pull your hair so hard that it pricks your scalp as you scream your heart out to the universe for such an injustice. 

Breathing seems like no easy task as your vision gets blurry with a layer of tear in your eyes, and it’s about to stream freely anytime soon. You’re just thankful your face is dipped and Hanzo can’t see how much of a blubbering mess you are.

“I-I don’t know what to say…” With a croaky voice, you mumble.

And the unbearable tear finally drips.

“Shush, hey.” Hanzo’s voice is soothing. A thumb of his is brought up to your cheek as it wipes off your tear, “I’ve never seen you cry before.”

You decide to ignore his remark and keep your face to the sheet. Besides, it seems pretty reasonable to cry-- you can’t possibly stay rock hard when your world has appeared to turn upside down. 

Lifting your chin up so your eyes meet his, he despondently says, “Maybe this is how we are destined to be-- you and me, against the universe. I just wish we could win this battle by… coming clean.”

“Don’t, Hanzo. Please… It’s too late now.”

“I guess you’re right.” He sighs, taking a short pause. But then a ray of light emerges within his face, “But Harumi will be the one moving here once we get married. Nothing is going to change between us, I will still be seeing you every night. Here.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion at his statement, “You mean… we’ll still see each other when you’re married?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Surprisingly, you’re not feeling better-- your heart is still broken and it refuses to fix itself even when Hanzo tells you nothing’s changing. Inside, you know it’s not entirely true.

But for some reason, you find yourself fetching him an uncertain smile realizing your head goes empty at his words.

And your body still freezes as he moves even closer to you before his lips reach for yours tenderly. His palm finds your jaw before you find yourself, once again, under his mercy.

Oh, you’re dying to say a word-- about how wrong this feels, but you forget that the power of his kiss could shed away even the hardest problems.

And that’s exactly what it’s doing as you find yourself lost within it.

“Nothing is going to change between us, I will still be seeing you every night. Here.”

Those words Hanzo said keeps echoing in your head like it’s shouted in one hollow room. No matter how many times you try massaging the bridge of your nose or even simply shut your eyes, drifting into a peaceful slumber appears impossible.

You shift your head to your left, and there he is. Eyes closed, looking serene with his lips perfectly formed in one single line. The sound of his unwavering breaths could usually doze you off, but not tonight.

Because deep down, you know it won’t be yours to hear the next day.

Your hand reaches out for his stubble, and the way your hand gently caresses it is as if it knows it’ll be the last time you feel the slight pierce. You know you will surely miss how it feels on the back of your hand that slides softly on the curve of his cheekbone.

No-- you knew even then you have to leave him some time, and you’re afraid the moment has arrived.

As you gaze into his aristocratic frame, your brain searches for a reason to stay-- for you to possibly have him near you as long as you can.

But no matter how hard you dig, the thought of the future always buries the hope back even deeper. The thought of his warmth being someone else’s to cherish leaves a huge burden in your heart. 

And no, that is not the only thing that troubles you-- what if they have children someday? Of course, Hanzo would be happy to have his descendants, and he’s going to love them with all his heart.

And in time, you know he will eventually fall for Harumi.

At those thoughts, you can feel as if a dagger stabs your heart repeatedly, but the pain is nothing compared to the fact that this is the last time you will witness his fair looking face. 

And that… you have to let yourself out of his life.

Right now, there’s no use holding the tears back-- you let them stream freely this time as your mind wanders to the happier times you’ve spent with Hanzo, and how you wish you could do something to turn back time and let yourself showered with joy all over again.

But even by sacrificing your soul to the most powerful God, you know it’s not feasible.

With a heavy heart, you wipe away your tears before forcing the stiffness of your feet to move and out of the sheet, making sure to keep your movement slowly so you don’t wake him up. 

Keeping yourself as stealthy as possible, you put on your clothes and gather your things before you sit in one corner of the room to write him a farewell letter, glancing one in a while at his direction. You can feel your hand shaking as tears keep flowing down your cheek, but you try your hardest to power through the sorrow and ignore those tears that drop on the paper.

Dearest Hanzo,

I'm sorry I have to leave you like this, but I can't stand the thought of me being in the middle of your marriage. I understand this is not a part of your will, but you will have to learn to love her in time, just like you did to me.

I want you to know that this is hard for me to do, but I know I'm leaving you in a good hand-- she will take care of you and love you with all her heart. For that, I'm grateful, and I'm lucky.

But if by any chance we meet again in the future, I'm hoping to see the same spirit and light I've witnessed in you these past couple of months. By then, I can always remember that one summer we spent under the peach tree, and how it will always bring joy to my heart. 

Even though I might not be the one that puts that smile on your face, knowing you're well and happy is more than enough for me.

I love you, always.

P.S: Anata wa watashi no yume no otokoda.*

Finished writing the letter, you slowly maneuver to his side of the bed and you kneel down, placing the letter neatly next to his resting face as you take one last glance at his perfection.

After landing your lips swiftly on his cheek, you stroke him and slowly whisper, “Goodbye, Hasashi.”

As you step out the door, you turn your head back to this worn-out hideout you’ve called your sanctuary for the last year-- the place you’ve made most memories at, and you know you’re not going to easily forget everything.

Now, you’re not sure where your feet will take you. You have to survive in some other strange place and start a new life on your own, going back to the solitude you haven’t felt ever since your first encounter with Hanzo Hasashi.

You’re not sure how you’re going to survive without him by your side, but as you sweep the tears off your cheek and move forward, you know you somehow will.

//

*you’re the man of my dreams

[whileiamdying]

How Gena Rowlands Redefined the Art of Movie Acting

Gena Rowlands in “Opening Night.” Photographs courtesy Everett

The actress, who died last week, at the age of ninety-four, changed the history of cinema in her collaborations with the actor and director John Cassavetes.

By Richard Brody August 19, 2024

Gena Rowlands, who died last Wednesday, at the age of ninety-four, is, of all the actresses I’ve ever seen onscreen, the greatest artist. She’s the one whose performances offer the most surprises, the most shocks, the most moment-to-moment inventiveness, and, above all, the most almost-unbearable force of emotional expression, combining extremes of strength and vulnerability, of overt display and inner life. Her mighty talent is also a peculiar one, the strangeness of which is exemplary of the art of movies: it might never have come so fully to light were it not for her marriage to John Cassavetes and for the movies that they made together—especially the personal six that extend from “Faces” (filmed in 1965, released in 1968) to “Love Streams” (1984).

That’s not at all to diminish Rowlands’s art or its basis in her innate talent and hard work, but to locate its essence in the nature of cinema: it’s an art of collaboration, in which more or less every major artistic advance has resulted from two or more people making common cause. It doesn’t have to be romantic, of course, but it should come as no surprise that this couple, married for thirty-four years, until Cassavetes’s death, in 1989, should be responsible for the most profound movies about love that exist. They met in 1951 at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, where they both studied, and married in 1954, when she was twenty-three and he was twenty-four. To do so, Rowlands broke her own vow not to marry in order to focus on her career.

Rowlands quickly got a career, on live TV dramas, on Broadway, and in Hollywood movies. Cassavetes had a similar acting career, although his Broadway experience was mainly behind the scenes, and he also made a pioneering independent film, “Shadows,” between 1957 and 1959 (she had only a bit part, uncredited). They started a family (eventually having three children, all of whom went on to work in film) and moved to Hollywood, where, in the early sixties, Cassavetes directed studio pictures, an experience he hated. They both continued their acting careers, and then, in 1965, they put their own money into “Faces,” much of which was shot in their own house. It took three years to complete, not least because the first cut ran eight hours; Cassavetes ultimately got it down to just over two. The movie, about the fraying of a marriage, is a drama of romantic frustration, longing, and pursuit—the story of a businessman, Richard, who runs away from his wife to spend a night with Jeannie, a sex worker, at her well-appointed home, while his wife has an affair with someone she meets in a night club. Rowlands, in her first real independent-film role—as the sex worker—achieved hitherto-unimaginable heights in movie performance.

A still from “Faces.”

Contrary to myths about Cassavetes’s films, they’re not improvised. The script for “Faces” was two hundred and fifteen pages long, and Cassavetes wrote the dialogue. What’s not written out is the actors’ physical behavior. They’re free to live out the action uninhibitedly, with Cassavetes’s camera following them in their lurches and dances, their tussles and their embraces. The entire cast, featuring veteran actors (such as John Marley, as the husband) and nonprofessionals (including Lynn Carlin, as the wife), performs with unreserved energy and passion, but it’s Rowlands who, in just a few scenes, expands the boundaries of movie acting. The role is one that has the notion of performance built into it—Jeannie is performing love and desire for her client—but the story involves an emotional reality that bursts through this convention-bound relationship.

The sex worker with a heart of gold is a well-worn type, of course, something that the movie confronts head on, yet there’s nothing hackneyed or even familiar about the way that Cassavetes films this character—or about how Rowlands brings her to life. Jeannie’s tragedy is that she is unable to fit into the conventional contours of her transactional role and instead brings her whole self, all her torrential, impulsive emotionalism, to her work. Her intensity provokes Richard into a wrenching-away of façades and engenders a contact of souls far more galvanic than the contact of bodies—until the transactional and the conditional snap back. Rowlands pours herself completely into Jeannie’s ratcheted-up gaiety and forceful control of tough situations, her rapturous tenderness and devastated disappointment. Cassavetes’s filming matches her beat for beat, throb for throb, leading to a closeup of such melodramatic starkness and catastrophic self-awareness that, to my mind, it’s the closeup of closeups, the one that could stand for the entire historical repertory of cinematic intimacy, of the art of the face.

In Cassavetes’s films, Rowlands was able to give of herself comprehensively, to be herself and to allow the wildest extremes of feeling to overwhelm her on camera. This isn’t solely because of the couple’s personal bond. It’s also because Cassavetes, behind the camera, is giving of himself completely, too, in his responsiveness to the people he’s filming and the situations that they create. She and he seem almost to be meeting at the surface of the image, yielding a sense of shared risk, shared vulnerability, and equality.

Rowlands’s performance in “Faces” set the definitive tone for Cassavetes and his films, as well as for herself. In Cassavetes’s 1963 studio movie “A Child Is Waiting,” Rowlands, who co-stars, is skillful and focussed, with a strong presence but an unexceptional manner. In “Faces,” more than a star is born—she reveals an entire new dimension of acting. She wasn’t in his next film, “Husbands,” from 1970 (in which he co-stars with Peter Falk and Ben Gazzara), but his performance confirms her influence. He was already highly original, but “Faces,” in which he doesn’t appear, produced a watershed in his own performances, and in the acting of his movies in general—a form of acting that the entire future of cinema would be forced to reckon with.

By the time Rowlands and Cassavetes made their next movie together, “Minnie and Moskowitz” (1971), they had turned forty, and, in that post-sixties moment, with its slogan of never trusting anyone over thirty, the suburban world of “Faces” was already old-fashioned. Yet, as if to overcome the facile determinism of a generational dividing line, it was this cinematic couple that was singularly rejuvenating the art of movies, dispelling pretenses of comfort and tranquillity to give full and florid expression to the stifled emotions that it concealed. The couple’s films don’t talk politics, but the way that they defied movie conventions to depict experiences with unprecedented intensity gives them a manifest social and metapolitical power.

Seymour Cassel and Rowlands in “Minnie and Moskowitz.”

In their 1974 drama “A Woman Under the Influence,” Rowlands, playing the wife of a construction foreman (Peter Falk), confronts the raw and repressive power of working-class masculinity, in a performance that, for all its fury and reckless playfulness, has a finely composed dramatic arc and a manifest virtuosity. Despite this sense of more careful composition, its scenes from a marriage and its vision of family life are nearly unbearably painful to watch; they were agonizing for Rowlands to portray. In 1976, Rowlands was in the room when Cassavetes was interviewed about the film by a journalist from Le Monde, who asked her if she’d thought of directing Cassavetes in a movie. She first jokingly pretended to strangle her husband, then earnestly said that she didn’t want to direct, then added, “No, sometimes, after difficult scenes, I’d like to turn the camera on John, especially to get revenge . . . ”

Having taken naturalistic drama to unprecedented extremes, the couple next explored the very nature of performance, in “Opening Night” (1977), surely the most powerful and imaginative movie about actors—and about an actress—that exists. Rowlands plays Myrtle Gordon, an actress cast in the lead role of a play by an elderly playwright (Joan Blondell), the subject of which is the character’s transition from youth to maturity. The role terrifies Myrtle, emotionally and professionally: she feels that it will mark the end of her career as she knows it, and it also forces her to confront her own age (which is unspecified, but Rowlands was in her mid-forties). It’s also the story of Myrtle’s terror and horror at one particular moment of stage business—when a co-starring actor named Maurice (Cassavetes) is supposed to slap her.

What Myrtle does, in the face of her resistance to the play’s text and to its direction, is to explode the play in real time, forcing Maurice and the rest of the cast to improvise along with her, to the horror of the playwright but to the delight of the audience in the theatre where the play is opening. Those improvisations (most of which were indeed written) range from the dangerously passionate to the uproariously capricious—and Myrtle delivers them as if directly addressing the audiences attending the play and breaking the fourth wall, and forces Maurice to do the same. It’s as if the actors are tipping their hands at movie viewers as well, suggesting the vast personal realities that fuel great screen performances. Most actors and most filmmakers, bound by industry norms or crowd-pleasing conventions, don’t even hint at such realities, but Cassavetes and Rowlands broke open the screen to let them flood into the world at large. The essential art of Rowlands, the art that she and Cassavetes shared in public and in private, was the art of life, the art of love. ♦

[kepnerandavery]

Sorry to keep going on this topic but HOW are they supposed to go forward with the fact that Michael knows Fran wants a baby and that's part of the reason he seduces her, he's a rake that's his whole thing! How is Michaela going to be able to do the "I'm not letting the woman I've secretly loved for years get a baby with a stranger, I'll seduce her instead even if it kills me with guilt"

Also, regarding your last ask, I pray we forget about all this in a while and the show goes to hell

It's alright. Discussing this makes it easier for me to accept it. I disagree about him seducing her for that reason. This is my take on this...

For two years, Francesca and John's marriage, his brotherhood with John, and the love/respect he had for both of them was the emotional barricade Michael had put in between him and Francesca. And after John, Michael was the person Fran was closest to, and she turned to him for support after John's death, but Michael couldn't let her lean on him without crossing the boundaries that he had created between them because that barricade was no longer there. And he knew she needed him to replace John more than she needed him. So he left Scotland.

When he came back, four years later, she had decided to find a man to marry. But there was already a lot of confusion, anger, betrayal, longing, and yearning that had built up between them during the time he stayed away. And Michael obviously felt a newfound responsibility, jealousy, and possessiveness toward her. Michael expresses that he wished that she would have already been married before he returned from India because it would have made Fran unavailable once more, thereby not giving him a chance to betray John, and also not lose her in front of his eyes. While he was processing all of this, Francesca was starting to realise her feelings for him, and she ends up initiating their first kiss, which makes Michael finally see that she sees him in a different light than she did before. To top it all off, Michael sees that most of the men who pursued Fran were ungentlemanly (to say the least). And when Colin realises Michael's feelings for her and urges him to marry her himself, he finally accepts that he is the right choice for her because he would never hurt her.

He then tries to convince her to marry him by using logic (by bringing up her lost title, the management of their estate, their mutual respect and friendship, and the idea of giving her children. She denies, and he decides to seduce her (with her consent) because in his mind, men and women had to get married if they had been intimate. But she still denies his proposal after that, and tells him that she would only marry him if she became pregnant. So Michael begins to think that she would marry him if he gave her the only thing she desires (because neither of them realises that she also desires him), and tells her that he would give her a child if that is what it would take for her to agree to marry him, because he convinced himself that he's fine with her marrying him just for the sake of a baby, as long as she became his wife. And so, this becomes their excuse to continue their affair. And after a while, he decides to impress her by courting her (the poor man really pulled out all the stops 😭), but she ends up making it clear that she misses the intimacy between them. She ends up reaching for him even after finding out that she isn't pregnant, agrees to get married, admits her love for him, and spends five years with him happily before they have children.

All of this to say, their story is so painfully angsty, and romantic, and I doubt the writers would have been able to portray it's nuances and not ruin it (how they wrote kanthony in season two is proof of how well they can mess up the beauty of the books). Polin was the only ship that they wrote well, because they still managed to include all of the key points of RMB despite changing the arc of its story. Even Simon's speech impediment was glossed over in season one, so diminishing Fran's fertility issues is nothing for them. So, if Fran gets a season (which I doubt) it will most likely feature a "new and original" story created by the writers.

Yeah, me too. We will. There's so many other shows out there for us to obsess over, so don't worry. PS: I have recently started watching german shows, and would recommend them to anyone trying to distract themselves from this hellish show :)

[haphazardlyannotated]

The Locked Tomb/Steven Universe Crossover

This crossover was inspired months ago by the random thought "Hey, Pearl would definitely want to be Rose's cavalier" and hasn't left me alone since. So here you go, niche audience of one! (It's me. I am the audience)

First of all, yes, Pearl has to be Rose's cavalier. Not only does it neatly align with Pearl's knightly devotion and the institutional power imbalance they're both trying to ignore, Pearl absolutely is the kind of person who would take "my not-wife refuses to kill me and eat my soul in order to attain immortality" as a terrible rejection.

She's so insane about Rose, she'd fit right in in this universe (pun not intended). Also, the cavalier-necromancer romance taboo works excellently for Pearlrose. For one, of course, the forbidden romance. Cav!Pearl confessing to necro!Rose that she's been dreaming about running away from the Houses together to live in domestic bliss on a nice moon somewhere has the exact same vibes as su!Pearl's confession in Now We're Only Falling Apart. But more importantly, cav!Pearl giving Rose's suitors a "You may have caught her eye, but I am her cavalier; she swore an oath to me; our fates are entwined till death do us part" speech only to go to her rooms and wallow in how the very position that ensures she'll be by Rose's side forever is what will forever keep her from pursuing her true feelings is too good.

Meanwhile Rose is in the next room going "Oh woe is me, for I am a cruel, selfish woman, to keep the love of my life from the glory she deserves! Alas, I can't bear to let her go, even though I know in my heart that her care for me is only the rightful, proper care of a cavalier for her necromancer! The least I owe her is not to take advantage of our pure, sacred bond, so I shall go and drown my sorrows in another fleeting affair!"

Writer's choice whether they miraculously manage to communicate before Rose gets herself killed in one way or another, but ironically the dystopian 50% character death rate tlt verse is much more likely to give them a second chance than pastel redemption arcs su, because Steven Universe is a story about healing from trauma with the power of a supportive network of loved ones while The Locked Tomb endorses attacking the cold unfeeling universe with teeth and fingernails until it returns your girlfriend, and both of them are so valid for this.

In this case however it means, that instead of slowly healing, Pearl absolutely refuses to accept Rose's death to a Harrow and Camilla extent. Does she threaten to stab whoever takes Jod's role in this AU? Does she try to break into the Locked Tomb because to hell with the Houses, she's getting her wife back? Both? In any case, tlt rules demand that she succeeds.

Anyway, I put them in the Seventh House because roses.

As for the supporting cast:

Ruby and Sapphire are the Fifth House wholesome married couple who make Pearl and Rose stare in longing for what they cannot have.

Garnet is Paul. Obviously. Cue another, different kind of yearning for what could have been from Pearl. Poor Garnet has just come into existence. She doesn't deserve having to be everyone's emotional support already.

I struggled with figuring out a role for Amethyst for a while until it hit me: Wasn't it fun when Amethyst experienced self hatred over how the life was drained out of her planet to make her? Try being the result of two hundred child murders! Don't the inadequacy issues gain a delightful new dimension when your entire generation has been killed off in anticipation of your abilities? Guys, I think Amethyst is Harrow Nova.

I have no idea what plot has to happen for Rose to end up with Jod's baby, but that is the only role for Steven I will tolerate. And Connie is his cavalier. Obviously.

Peridot is sciency, Lapis is the quiet OP lady, and they're in a QPR. There was no way I wasn't going to make them the Sixth. HOWEVER. Due to how extremely OP Lapis is with an element manipulating power specifically. I decided that she's the necromancer and Peridot is her incredibly academically talented BFF who they're pretending is the necromancer so she can be along for the ride. This would be plot relevant if this crossover had an actual plot instead of self indulgent vibes only.

Jasper gets Judith's role. Completely loyal to the ethically dubious regime, absolutely convinced that she's the only one who is doing the right thing and everyone else is just not strong enough, ends up corrupted possessed by a Resurrection Beast.

Bismuth is a Blood of Eden commander. She would like to fist fight every single Uppercrust zombie, however, just like su!Bismuth, she is easily won over when a former Homeworld gem House zombie shows up on her planet and announces her intent to fight the Diamonds Jod and his Lyctors and/or bust into the Locked Tomb.