#brooks household

[tikay21]

🐺my households - The Stones

Stone - Hall - Brook

my GP - The Stones (since January 2020) my household > Stones save: MainWorld Willow Creek - Lot 10 the characters

David Stone Clanleader and in an long term on / off relationship with his Highschool love

Jenna Hall and their kidz (Jenna has another son - Ilon Hall)

Steven Hall-Stone

Miracle Hall-Stone Davids younger brother

Dr. Daniel Stone (he has a twin sister - Lisa) and long term relationship

Julieth Brook (both scientists) and their son

Lucien Brook-Stone

Lisa and Drew the other Stone siblings 're living in the Mason -Stone household partially some more infos via the character hashtags Sims by me TiKay21 @ current state of play (SoP)

the place they live - Lot 10

Stones Family Tree - Legacy

I still haven't made all the lots as nice as I would like them to be, because that wasn’t my focus at the time. I never thought about showing my GP anywhere back then, so it’s mostly unfinished.

next household > 16 Mason-Stone

[whartonists]

Surely someone next week has to pull a Mrs. Paran Stevens and go between the two opera houses midway through the evening; my money is on Mrs. Fish

[tamtam-go92]

And over all that romancing, we must not forget that it's Ardelle's birthday! She's got everyone around her that she loves.

But most importantly, she's got Alyson around her, her beloved twin sister who she thought she had lost forever.

[grimbunnies]

Linda: Might be a little bit of a brag, but it looks nice on the wall!

[skippingdown16]

this trailer has everything

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

misc. (i)

⛔️ TW: mention of anorexia and drugging❗️

♡ Venus Square Mars may attract obsessive people. In particular, people who obsess over their looks or fetishize them in some way. Brooke Shields had a whole nation obsessed with her at the mere age of 12. Eugenia Cooney has infamously attracted hoards of anorexia fetishists with her content. People with this placement may have a higher risk of drastic weight loss or gain.

♡ Either I meet too many Capricorn Suns by coincidence or it's a rather common placement. One reasoning could be that April is an ideal month for marriage in many places, especially ones where it gets unbearably hot in June. Spring adds to April's allure. Traditional couples often conceive right after tying the knot, making the pregnancy due in Capricorn season.

♡ Lilith is associated with sexuality but people focus too much ONLY on that facet of it. Lilith is associated with many other things like power, revenge and how one becomes a social pariah.

♡ Planets at 0° may symbolize struggle. Lana Del Rey has Sun at 0°. The Sun represents our ego. She had many controversies in 2020 including the mesh mask and her Instagram rant undermining POC artists. Even after criticism, instead of apologizing, she remained defensive. I believe that planets at 0° provide a lot of room for growth if the individual is genuinely interested in self-improvement.

♡ Aries Moon (ruled by Mars) and Scorpio Moon (ruled by Pluto, traditionally by Mars) despite being similar are perceived quite differently by people. The sign of Aries gives child-like quality to the native. They come off as cute and their sarcastic remarks are perceived as good humor. E.g. Rihanna roasting Helena Bonham Carter's sense of fashion. Meanwhile, one eyeroll from a Scorpio Moon, and they may come off as hateful and jealous. My advice to Scorpio Moons who want to be in the public eye, please never put on the mean girl persona. Tap into your kind side, it'll be received in a positive way and you'll attract genuine support.

♡ Venus-Mars aspects symbolize beauty; the difference may lie in how people perceive it. Venus Trine Mars are often called cute. People with this aspect are well-liked and have a good reputation. These are the people who may never be cancelled due to the halo effect they have. No matter how massively popular they are, people won't be digging up dirt on them, which is also why very little is known about these people's personal lives. These people often become a household name due to that one iconic thing they did, even if they decide to adapt a lowkey presence afterwards. Let me emphasize this with an extensive list of examples:

✧ Nina Dobrev (The Vampire Diaries), Zayn, Leighton Meester (Gossip Girl), Adele, Kit Harington (Game of Thrones), Sabrina Carpenter, Tobey Maguire (Spider-Man), Kate Middleton, Mandy Moore (A Walk to Remember), Jackie Chan, Jenna Fischer (The Office), Ana de Armas, Josh Hutcherson (The Hunger Games), Constance Wu (Crazy Rich Asians), Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean) and Alan Rickman (Harry Potter) have this aspect.

✧ Taeyang being the only member of former K-pop group BIGBANG who's had no controversies (also managed to keep his relationship hidden for a long time before revealing it with a wedding announcement), Khloé Kardashian being the least disliked Kardashian/Jenner sister, Cardi B admitting to drugging and robbing men, starring in Hustlers that glamorized it, hitting her career peak with WAP the very next year really drives the point home.

✧ I've also noticed this aspect in almost all Bollywood IT girls of their time: Priyanka Chopra, Aishwarya Rai, Anushka Sharma, Ayesha Takia, Dia Mirza, Divya Bharti, Parveen Babi - all loved by the general public despite the media scrutiny and misogyny that prevails within the industry.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[kuroananosanji]

One aspect of ZoSan that Westerners may not get the full nuance of is the concept of “うちの”, literally “of our/my household”. There’s a reason why the EA fandom (mainly Chinese from my POV) disproportionally ship ZS over other ships, to the point where even dudebros hop the joke.

So there’s this Chinese saying that means “be strict to yourself but lenient towards others” which is seen as model behaviour for respected individuals. I don’t know if there’s an equivalent idiom in Japanese but both Koreans and Japanese hold similar attitudes towards treatment of self vs treatment of others in society. Here’s the fun part: thanks to collectivist culture, one’s “self” extends to your immediate family too. Since you’re seen in conjunction with your family, if you’re head of the house and your “inferiors” misbehave in public, it reflects badly on you as a person. That’s why strict parenting is more normalised in EA culture, because controlling how your kids behave is more or less the same as controlling how you yourself behave. This is also related to how tough love is a more common form of affection in EA families, there’s a sentiment of “being able to be mean to you means we’re close, being too nice means I see you as a stranger.”

You might now see how this relates to the Strawhats in general (see: Nami beating up members for acting out of line). Sanji is a funny one coz he was sort of a maternal figure secondary to Nami early on in the series. Women aside, there’s a difference in how he treats men on his crew and “outsiders” (e.g. Ace). He’s actually not rude towards men, it’s just that we predominantly see his interactions with the crew! Since his crew is his family, he can be strict with them like how he’s strict with himself.

How does this relate to ZS in particular? Well, it’s because Zoro is closest to him on the self—others sphere. Luffy is his captain so despite the usual bickering he has to obey him to some degree. Usopp and Chopper are younger and weaker, so Sanji has a responsibility to take care of them and show generosity as an “elder”. Franky, Brook and Jinbe are way older than him so there has to be some degree of respect when interacting with them. Nami and Robin are Women. This only leaves Zoro, who is his equal in both age, power and hierarchical position on the crew. Essentially, Sanji has every right to hold Zoro to the exact same standard as he would himself. And given that Sanji is extremely harsh to himself, he’s harsh to Zoro too.

This is why there was virtually no discourse over the “Sanji calls Zoro a liability” moment in the EA fandom. The unspoken context was that Sanji was apologising to Jinbe for Zoro, who wasn’t performing his best. And since Jinbe is relatively new to the crew and also much older than Sanji, it feels like a mother/wife apologising for her son/husband?? It’s giving “I’m sorry my Zoro embarrassed us”?? It’s giving “Zoro is my responsibility”?? On the flip side Zoro absolutely does this to Sanji too. I can’t name a specific anime moment but in one of the mobile game collabs he said something like “sorry our cook caused trouble for you”. The specific wording was うちのコック. (They both think they’re managing the other lmao I hate them)

Tldr: Zoro and Sanji see themselves as one household unit 😭 hence the bickering and bluntness and lack of pretences in general.

[ladychaos]

Hi everyone! I'm happy to share another build and another household for StrangerVille! Creating for this world is the most fun I've had playing the game in ages. Enjoy!

Take care and stay safe. 💜

Dream Weavers Way [CC-FREE]

This beautiful house is tucked high atop a plateau where you can hear the babbling brook and enjoy the perfect joy of a normal day. It's home to the Currie family, and for Evangeline, Usi and their six children, it's a very special place and so is their town... Strangerville. Here, they offer help to anyone who needs it: their door is always open.

AVAILABLE IN MY GALLERY

Origin ID: LadyChaosWorlds

You can download Dream Weavers Way here: [X]

You can download the Currie Family here: [X]

📁 TRAY FILES : DOWNLOAD (PATREON, FREE)

📁 WANT TO DOWNLOAD THE HOUSEHOLD? [X]

💟 Please don’t re-upload. Please don’t share without credit.💟 If you enjoy my content, consider becoming a Patron or donating a ko-fi! It would help me a lot. 💜

Don’t forget to activate bb.moveobjects before downloading the lot on build mode (not from the map).

[*I’m currently redoing all StrangerVille, creating builds and storylines for the whole world. You can check my progress here.]

[jadedchainsaw]

One Piece men if you ask them to peel you an orange/tangerine

Through the good graces of our girl Nami, she let you have one of her precious tangerines, but you don’t want to peel it so instead you go to bug one of your crewmate’s.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

———————————————————————

Luffy:

“Hey Luffy, can you-“

“Oh thanks, a snack!”

He eats it whole, right out of your hand

You: 😦

“Did you want something?”

Zoro:

Already grumpy that you woke him up from a nap but begrudgingly agrees, holding out his hand

The dumbass tries to split it in two with his bare hands

Gets the juice in his good eye

RIP

Sanji:

(If you identify as a woman)

As if you have to even ask this man

He snatches the fruit out of your hand the second you walk into the kitchen

Peels and plates it fancy, like a rose.

And he makes a tea out of the orange peels (we love a zero waste ship-household)

(If you identify as a man)

“Peel it your damn self.”

Damn

Usopp:

Agrees to peel it for you but now you have to listen to one of his made up stories.

“You know, this reminds me of the time I single handedly saved a city from a vicious orange-a-saurus! What, you’ve never heard of it? Well it’s a savage beast, three times the size of the sunny with razor sharp-“

You get the picture

Chopper:

Agrees to peel it for you, but he can’t quite get it with his hooves

You end up peeling it and sharing the fruit together

Franky:

He makes a little robot to peel the orange for you

Dubs it the “Franky peeler-nator 500”

he and the little robot strike a cool pose

Brook:

He happily agrees to peel it for you

He’ll tell you a story about his old crew and Laboon

“Oh my, this orange juice sure feels sticky! Or it would if I had any skin! Yohoho!

Now, may I see your panties-“

Jinbe:

Of course he’ll peel it for you

He’ll hand each slice to you one at a time as he steers the ship

Kind of like a dad and his kid

Killer:

Agrees, but he’ll slice it instead of peeling it

Still plates it nicely for you

Kid:

You’re better off asking killer but if you’re that determined-

“What are ya’? A fucking baby?”

Does it after some convincing, but he’ll loudly complain about getting it under his nails

Law:

“No.”

Slams the door in your face

You walk away dejectedly but you hear his office door open again and Law heavily sigh, motioning for you to come back so he can peel it for you

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

Dog repeatedly escapes Up North shelter, sneaks into nursing home

An abused stray mutt kept trying to move himself into a senior care facility. So the nurses there had to figure out what to do about him.

He’d had enough of being at the animal shelter, so Scout the dog climbed over one tall fence and then another, crossed a busy highway in the darkness, entered the automatic doors of a nursing home down the road, walked unnoticed into the lobby, hopped onto a couch, curled into a ball and quietly went to sleep for the night. An astonished nurse there found him the next morning. She called Antrim County Animal Control, whose shelter happens to be just down the road. And they discovered that he'd escaped from there the night before. Scout was a stray mutt. He had no identity, no history. The shelter staff gave him his new name, but otherwise they knew nothing about him, though they noticed he had the distinct demeanor of an abused dog. Somebody apparently once shot him too, with BBs or birdshot, because his jowl still had some kind of round pellets embedded in it. You couldn’t see them, but you could feel them if he let you touch him.   The sheriff came and took him back to the shelter.

But a few nights later there was Scout, back on that same couch in the nursing home lobby. Somehow he again scaled a 10-foot chain-link fence, then a 6-foot solid privacy fence, crossed a highway without getting run over, entered the front door unnoticed, jumped onto the same couch as before and made himself at home for the night. A call was placed again. He was brought back to the shelter again. Just a couple of nights after that, Scout was back on the couch for the third time. And the staff had a decision to make.

Lost and found

Meadow Brook Medical Care Facility is a long-term medical care residence about an hour northeast of Traverse City. It cares mostly for seniors, some of whom have terminal illnesses, or dementia, or simply nowhere else to go or nobody to look after them. There are 82 beds split between several smaller households. For some reason, this is the place Scout the dog decided to make his home. “I’m a person who looks at outward signs, and if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be,” said Marna Robertson, 57, the nursing home’s administrator. “He did that one time, two times, three times, and obviously that’s something that you should pay attention to. And I asked the staff, ‘Well, he wants to be here. Would anybody like to have a dog?’”

The staff formally adopted him. Suddenly the nursing home had its own pet. And the residents were delighted. “I think it reminds them of being home,” said Rhonda Thomczak, 49, the administrative assistant at Glacier Hill, the household where Scout was first discovered. “When you’re home you have your pets, and you don’t get to have that here. Having a dog around makes it feel like home.”

[stark-raving-romantic]

Since we all agree the Harry Potter is NOT it...here's a fun poll! These are just my picks but if you feel that I've neglected one, tell me and I'll make another poll, the winners can face off or something.

Please reblog to break containment!

Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged , that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Northanger Abbey: No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be a heroine.

Anne of Green Gables: Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.

The Graveyard Book: There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.

Romeo and Juliet:

"Two households, both alike in dignity

 (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene),

 From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

 Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

Tuck Everlasting: The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.

Fahrenheit 451: It was a pleasure to burn.

The Hobbit: In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

A Christmas Carol: MARLEY WAS DEAD, to begin with.

The Secret Garden: When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Far Out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.

Percy Jackson/The Lightning Thief: Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood

[jerzwriter]

It's Kiss-mas! A Carrick Family Holiday

Once again, @/artbyainna (IG) hits it out of the park! I have not done many commissions lately, but I wanted something special for my OTP for the holidays, and she delivered! Look at my babies with their babies!!! ❤️I'm simply in love with this!

I wrote a story to accompany it below.

Book: Open Heart (Post-Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Featuring: The Carrick Girls: Samantha, Brooke & Kayla Rating: General Words: 1,300 Summary: The Carrick family has opted to have a quiet Thanksgiving at home, and the girls have unknowingly started some new traditions.

Thanksgiving Morning

Thanksgiving morning was finally here, and the Carrick household was buzzing with activity. Tobias and Casey were in the kitchen perfecting their holiday meal while their daughters were in the adjoining family room. Toys were scattered about as Samantha read a poem about being thankful, Brooke busily colored decorations at the coffee table, and little Kayla sat nearby, babbling with delight. Casey watched the peaceful scene with a full heart; this was exactly the kind of holiday she had hoped for.

A short time later, Kayla’s sweet babbling stopped, and she waddled toward the kitchen with her dark curls bouncing and the look of joy that could only be found on a child’s face this time of year in place.  

“It’s Kiss-mas!” she announced triumphantly, beaming as she raised her arms in the air.

Samantha, who remained on the couch, rolled her eyes in true big-sister fashion. “It’s not Christmas, Kayla. Today’s Thanksgiving.”

Brooke looked up from her coloring, her brow slightly furrowed. Ever the peacemaker, she wanted to settle things quickly. “It is Thanksgiving,” she agreed. “But we can start celebrating Christmas today, too.”

Kayla’s tiny body appeared to tremble with glee. “Kiss-mas!”

Tobias scooped his youngest into his arms, pressing a kiss onto her chubby cheek. “You know what, sweetheart. We can start celebrating the Christmas season today.”

“Really?” Brooke gasped, her eyes wide. She had been trying to broker peace before but never imagined they’d get this lucky. “Does that mean we can put up the tree today?”

Casey joined the conversation, a soft smile on her lips. “We don’t have big plans,” she reminded Tobias. “Just us and the girls. So I think we could start decorating, don’t you?”

Tobias turned to her, Kayla wriggling happily in his arms. “I don't see why now. After dinner, we’ll make it happen. Tree, stockings, the works!”

“Yey!!!” Brooke squealed as she danced around the living room. Even Samantha couldn’t help but smile as Kayla happily declared, “It’s Kiss-mas!” once more.

Dinner Time

The house was filled with the aroma of roasting turkey. Samantha helped Tobias set the table, and Brooke and Casey were finishing up in the kitchen as Kayla chased the family cat, Pietro, all around the room. While Tobias and Casey were eager to dig into the delicious meal, the girls were more focused on the promise of Christmas decorating to come.

Samantha was the first to push her plate forward. “I’m done!” she announced with a broad grin.

“Done?” Tobias asked with a raised brow. “You barely touched your food, hon. You’ve gotta eat more than that.”

“Daddy’s right,” Brooke chimed in, clutching a dinner roll. “We need energy for decorating!”

Casey laughed softly, sharing an amused glance with Tobias. “We do need energy,” she agreed. “But there will be no decorating until after we have the pumpkin pie. That’s non-negotiable.”

Kayla sat tall in her high chair, clapping her hands. “Pie! Pie!” she giggled, pointing to the dessert on the counter.

“You can have pie, sweetie,” Casey promised. “As soon as you finish that turkey.”

Despite the older girl’s minds already being set on the tree, the meal was filled with tender moments, especially when they shared what they were most thankful for. Samantha had a long list prepared, covering everything from her family to her books and dolls. Brooke quickly added Mommy’s bedtime stories and Daddy’s pancakes as Tobias playfully whispered into his wife's ear, “Note, it’s not your food,” he laughed. Kayla’s contribution was a little less cohesive—“Cat! Turkey! Kiss-mas!” She yelled as Tobias grinned and told her that was a perfect list.

Decorating the Tree

The girls had barely cleared their plates before they asked their father to get the tree. Almost as eager as they were, he needed little prodding. He returned from the basement with plastic storage bins containing their decorations before Casey finished clearing the table. The girls squealed when he placed them next to the fireplace, where their stockings would soon hang.

Casey knelt beside one of the bins and pulled out their beloved angel tree topper, holding it up with a smile. “Remember this?” she asked Tobias, gently taking his hand. “We bought it our first Christmas together.”

“Before you had us?” Samantha asked, seemingly shocked that her parents had a life before she and her sisters entered it.

“Yep,” Tobias laughed. “Mommy and Daddy actually did things before you were all born, too, you know.”

“But I’m sure they weren’t as fun!” Brooke giggled as she pulled their stockings from another bin.

“Daddy, you have to start with the lights!” Samantha called out, already wrestling with a tangled string. Casey chuckled as Tobias groaned. She knew this was his least favorite part, but Samantha had already assigned the job to him.

The room quickly filled with laughter as holiday music played softly in the background. Brooke worked diligently on the lower branches while, with Tobias’s help, Samantha worked on the higher ones. Casey watched with a smile as she kept Kayla occupied, and they both kept Pietro away from the tree.

“Can we do the stockings next?” Brooke asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Tobias replied, then he helped Brooke hang them carefully along the mantle while Casey added the finishing touches to the tree.

With everything finally in place, they stepped back to admire their work - their faces aglow from the tree’s twinkling lights. It felt like magic. Tobias wrapped his arm around Casey, placing a kiss on her head. “This is perfection,” he whispered, and nearby, Kayla apparently agreed. “It’s Kiss-mas!” she yelled, bouncing up and down with delight.

The End of the Night

“What can we do next?” Samantha asked, hands on her hips.

Tobias exchanged a look with his exhausted wife. “I say we watch some Christmas movies,” he suggested, settling back into the couch.

“Can we have popcorn?” Brooke asked, though her tone left little room for negotiation.

“There’s no other way to do it,” Casey laughed, and as the girls piled onto the couch, Tobias joined her in the kitchen to make popcorn. With the quiet hum of the microwave filling the space, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Do I tell you how thankful I am for you often enough?” he asked, his voice low and filled with emotion.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You tell me quite often,” she replied. “Do I do the same for you?”

“Yes,” he smirked. “But feel free to lay it on me more often. My ego isn’t as big as you think.”

Casey’s laughter filled the room as she gently smacked his chest. “Oh, please. Your ego couldn’t possibly get any bigger.”

They glanced into the living room, where the girls were snuggled under a blanket. Samantha and Brooke already bickering over what to watch first, while Kayla, nestled between them, looked completely unphased by the commotion.

“Our lives have sure changed since our first Thanksgiving together,” Casey said, leaning into Tobias’s chest.

He nodded, his voice full of reverence. “You can say that again, and they just keep getting better.”

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple before they carried the popcorn into the living room.

Settling onto the couch, Tobias announced, “All right! It’s Kayla’s turn to pick!” The toddler squealed, pointing at the screen. “Kiss-mas show!”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Casey laughed.

“Don’t worry, girls,” Tobias assured. “We’ll watch all of our favorites tonight.”

A gentle snow began to fall outside as Rudolph appeared on the television screen. Snuggled under the blanket with their daughters on their laps, Tobias and Casey’s hearts couldn’t have been more full. They shared a quick kiss before they turned back to the TV, basking in the glow of their tree and the simple joy of being together.

It was the perfect Thanksgiving, after all.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

@choicesholidays New Traditions, Cuddling by the Fireplace @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 thankful, television, pies, happiness

Tagging others separately.

[youremyheaven]

Momagers, Stage Mom's & Mama's Boys: The Dysfunctional Moon Child

Moon influenced people often come from households where they had a very dysfunctional relationship with their parents. Both parents are usually toxic but the Moon person forms a close, overly sympathetic and anxiously attached bond with one parent who they perceive as the victim or martyr in some way. (Dad's abusive or neglectful and mom's the one trying her best, for example).

WHY does this happen?

Moon is said to be the most Yin of the planets. It's passive, feminine and emotional.

Most of the time, these bonds are toxic because its overly protective, overly nurturing, controlling, overly caring as opposed to say Sun influence which will create bonds that are too independent and unattached (aka female friendships vs male friendships lol). Moon influenced parent-child bonds become toxic because there's TOO MUCH love, care and attachment and neither party can have a separate independent existence.

Moon influence is prominent in the charts of momagers/stage moms AND the kids who are under their control.

Priyanka Chopra, Rohini Moon

Pri and her mom are attached at the hip and they're literally ALWAYS together. She has managed Pri's career since she was a teenager. And since she's not a nepo kid, it's known that she's had affairs with several married men in the industry, especially when she was starting out, to secure work :((

And I think its fucked up to have a parent basically pimp you out to make money. Be it PC getting a nose job or her army doctor mother quitting her job to open a cosmetic surgery clinic or her family running a pub?? PC is the golden goose and her family has just been living off of her money and encouraging her to basically do anything to make it. I think its a bit fcked to be smoking with your mom and its not bc I'm Indian lol

Alia Bhatt, Shravana Rising

Now Alia's dad is a pretty well known asshole who is infamous for being abusive. And Alia had a pretty rough upbringing, so its no wonder that Alia is as attached to her mom as she is. Alia's own marriage is pretty fucked up and toxic.

Alia started her career when she was 17 and to this day, her mom manages her finances. She was recently in the news for being scammed out of 1 crore rupees (119,000 dollars) so like I guess her mom's not exactly brilliant at what she does lol

Katrina Kaif, Hasta Moon

Katrina Kaif who is British, came to India when she was 17 and met and started dating the violent, toxic abusive Salman Khan, who was 20 years older than her. He helped her establish herself as a huge star but she went through a lot including physical abuse.

Kat endured all that because she had 7 siblings to support and her mom was a single mom. She's extremely close to her mom but I still think its fcked up that a literal teenager had to become the breadwinner of a family of 8 and endure all kinds of abuse in a toxic industry and in a country where she knew nobody just to break even.

Bella Hadid, Hasta Moon

Yolanda is a toxic mom in general but she has a particularly toxic bond with Bella for sure

Britney Spears, Shravana Moon

She's probably the most notorious example of being controlled by her toxic , abusive family :(((

Brooke Shields, Rohini Sun/Jupiter/Rahu

Her mom made her pose naked for playboy when she was 10. That should say enough about how fcked up her momager was. She has spoken about how her mom was an alcoholic and she felt like she had to do everything she could do to keep her mom alive :((

Ranbir Kapoor, Shravana Moon

He grew up in a toxic home where his dad cheated on his mom and was an alcoholic. He's KNOWN to be a mama's boy and his mother lowkey influenced all his previous relationships until he finally tied the knot with someone his mom approved of ://

Today his wife dresses and emulates his mom lmao

Leonardo DiCaprio, Hasta Moon

He's another infamous mama's boy

It's interesting to me how in most of these cases, the fathers were either absent or neglectful. These people grew up under the sole care of their mothers and it created an overly possessive, toxic, codependent bond. All of these people have spoken about how hard their mom's lives were and how they're grateful for everything their mothers did for them. This tendency of the Moon to make its natives be entirely sheltered from Yang or male influence or in some ways find Yang influence repulsive is very telling.

Similar to how Sun influenced people find it difficult to relate to or connect with Yin themes (like being clingy, attached, being nurturing in a traditional way, being openly loving etc) Moon influenced people struggle the most with detachment, letting go, independence etc. The extremes of both these can be unhealthy. It's important to learn how to be balanced and not give in to the tendencies that can harm both us and the people in our lives.

That's all for this post<3

[planchettewrites]

Until the Twelfth of Never

SSA Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds)/AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: A lonely evening without your husband causes some positive reflection, that is until he comes home again.

CONTENT: Pure fluff, brief and minor allusions to sex, mentions of Haley Hotchner's death, mentions of loneliness.

A/N: Aaron Hotchner, my beloved! Initially, this fic centered around another song, but then I reworked it to a song that fit much better. I apologize for not posting, I've been working on other fics and preparing for my new job. I wanted to make this fic realistic to what it would be like to be married to Hotch, so prepare for some angst. All that said, I hope you enjoy it!

1.9k words | Safe!

Evenings with your husband were usually tranquil. Evenings without your husband were far more tranquil, at least for the most part. As you cared for your stepson, who you loved with all your heart, he kept the house lively. He came into your room and showed you his drawings, or you helped him with his homework, eventually tucking him into bed at night. It was those moments you cherished with Jack. The moments where you could read a story to him about faraway lands and slain dragons or the defeat of monsters or hear him talk about his day at school. However, no matter how much you loved that little boy, there was always a space in your heart missing from your husband’s absence.

You worked during the day, picked Jack up from school, and then returned home to a relatively clean house. Then you cooked dinner, ensured Jack got cleaned up for the evening, tucked him into bed, and watched television until it was time for you to sleep. That was consistently the hardest part of the day, where you fell asleep next to an empty side of the bed. Almost every night and every day, like clockwork, before you sleep and before you wake, you reach out and put your hand on Aaron’s pillow, feeling the soft material under your hands. Some days, you spray his cologne on his pillow to trick your brain into thinking he’s there. 

You learned rather quickly that it’s very hard to be a wife to a husband who rarely comes home. 

In some ways, you don’t feel like you have ever a right to complain. His not being home was the same thing that brought the demise of his marriage to his late ex-wife. The solitude and the silence can be pleasant, but your husband is your other half. You miss him like any wife would. However, when he was home, it was like he never left. He was still the kind, silly, dedicated, and wonderful father and husband he was before he left. When he was home, he always made time for you and his son. He’d take you three out to dinner or the movies and spend plenty of time with each of you in ways where it matters. He’d take his son to school and back, take him to baseball games, and watch Jack’s favorite shows with him. He’d spend time with you in the mornings and at night, ensuring you were happy and all your needs were fulfilled. He’d cook dinner for his family and spend every waking moment with the both of you. 

This week was another week Aaron was gone. He was supposed to return by the weekend, and then he’d return to your arms again. Until then, it was you and Jack. Except for the rest of the week, based on his wishes, he was with his Aunt Jessica. He wanted to see his cousins on the Brooks side of the family. You and the Brooks family got along fine, which is very fortunate for you. You had no ill will towards Haley (nor the rest of the Brooks family, for that matter); in fact, often, as a family, you would visit her grave. 

Needless to say, the Hotchner household was very quiet with your husband or your stepson. As you made dinner, funny enough, one of Jack’s favorites, fettuccine alfredo with broccoli and chicken, you turned on one of your CDs, an assorted mix from songs of the 1950s. Aaron got one of his coworkers, Penelope Garcia, to burn the CD for you. It was a mix of songs that both you and Aaron enjoyed and ones that made Aaron think of you. Songs like “Everybody Loves a Lover” by Doris Day, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, “Please Mr. Sun” by Tommy Edwards, “Fortune Teller” by Bobby Curtola, and so on and so forth. 

One of Aaron’s favorite tracks on the mix was “The Twelfth of Never” by Johnny Mathis. Aaron said it was one of his favorite love songs from that era; the slow melody and beautiful lyrics really spoke to him. In fact, he loved the song so much and associated it with your relationship and marriage entirely that it was your first dance song at your wedding. It was one of the first tracks on the CD since Aaron found the song so representative of your love. 

The music from your CD player blasted throughout the house, with no worry of waking any sleeping children or husbands. Currently, the second track of the mix was playing, “(I Got Spurs) Jingle Jangle Jingle.” Although the lyrics no longer applied to you, you had told Aaron it was one of your favorite songs in college. 

“'Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle (Jingle, jangle)

As I go ridin' merrily along (Jingle, jangle)

And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single" (Jingle, jangle)

And that song ain't so very far from wrong (Jingle, jangle).”

You sang along with the track from nearly the top of your lungs. You danced around your chicken as the pasta was cooking towards al dente. Your broccoli was also being steamed, and the chicken pieces were already cooked. Your hips swayed to the rhythm of the song, the funky orchestra carrying the tune of the music while Kay Kyser sang the lyrics. 

You always preferred to cook with music on. There was nothing like a dull life, you thought. You needed music to carry you through the good times and the bad, the lonely moments or the otherwise not. You twirled by the counters, imagining that your sleep shorts gave you the same twirl as a skirt from the early 1950s. 

“…Oh, Lillie Belle (Lillie Belle)

Oh, Lillie Belle (Lillie Belle)

Though I may have done some foolin'

This is why I never fell.”

You laughed a little to yourself as you sang along to that last lyric. You remember that promise you made in college: never fall for a man who stole your heart. Of course, that all changed when you met Aaron. Upon meeting, the attraction was instant. You met through a mutual friend of your father’s, and even though he was noticeably older than you, that didn’t seem to matter too much. You were a grown woman; you could make your own decisions. You didn’t expect that decision to be falling in love with and eventually marrying Aaron Hotchner, becoming a mother figure to a beautiful boy in the process. Still, you wouldn’t ever regret your heart’s desire. 

“… Oh, I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle (I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle)

As I go ridin' merrily along (I go ridin' merrily along)

And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single" (And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single")

And that song ain't so very far from wrong (And that song ain't so very far from wrong).”

As the third chorus came in with a woman’s voice, you found yourself totally entranced in the music. You did the twist as you stirred your pasta, singing your heart out. Some of you wished that Jack or Aaron were here to enjoy this moment with you, but concurrently, you were having a great time with yourself. The music kept you company, and the gentle hum of the stove fan kept you grounded in reality. 

“… Oh, Lillie Belle

Oh, Lillie Belle

Though I may have done some foolin'

This is why I never fell

'Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle (I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle).”

You kicked up your feet and continued to sway around the kitchen. While you were by no means a professional dancer, you knew how to dance well enough that you could carry your body to the melody. As the last chorus kicked in, you huffed out a sigh with a smile. All that dancing knocked the wind out of you. You went back to stirring the pasta, finally tasting it to see if your pasta was fully cooked. It was. After draining your pasta, you put it back in the pan to add the sauce as the next song begins. 

Part of you stopped to smile when you heard the opening notes of the next song on the tracklist: “The Twelfth of Never” by Johnny Mathis. Part of you wanted to skip to the next track, avoid the slight twinge in your heart when you heard the song and thought of your physically absent husband, but that’s not what Aaron would want. If Aaron were here, he’d grab you to slow dance, singing along to Johnny’s baritenor with his low baritone. 

“You ask how much I need you; must I explain?

I need you, oh, my darling, like roses need rain

You ask how long I'll love you, I'll tell you true

Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you.”

You sang along under your breath, your eyes closed as you stirred. You sang along to the following verses, swaying gently from side to side, imagining Aaron’s big arms wrapped around you. You wished you could feel his arms wrapped tight around your waist, kissing your neck as you cooked. One of his favorite things to do when he was home was cook together. You kept singing until you felt a presence and heard a familiar voice sing along to the song. 

“Hold me close,

Never let me go,

Hold me close,

Melt my heart like it will snow.”

Your eyes shot open as you turned to the sound of the voice, and there stood your husband in the flesh, leaning against the doorway, looking at you like you were a fresh drink of water in the scoring heat. Such love was apparent in his eyes; it almost made your eyes tear up. You nearly dropped the spoon, placing it quickly on the counter and almost sprinting into your husband’s arms. 

Opening his arms for you, Aaron immediately pulled you into a tight hug, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “I’ve missed you, my angel.” he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “I’ve missed you so, so much.”

Tears were beginning to brim in your eyes as you looked up at Aaron, a smile growing on your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in! When did you get home?”

“A few minutes ago. I heard our mix playing, and I had to come to see what you were up to.” his arms grew tighter around you, one of his hands slithering up your back to cradle your head. “I see that you’re cooking.”

“I’m sorry; if I knew you were coming home, I would’ve made some for you too.”

He smiled. “Not to worry, sweetheart, I ate on the plane ride back.”

Effectively abandoning your dinner, you let yourself melt into your husband’s touch as the last verse of the song began to play, the two of you singing along and swaying to the rhythm. 

“I'll love you 'til the bluebells forget to bloom

I'll love you 'til the clover has lost its perfume

I'll love you 'til the poets run out of rhyme

Until the twelfth of never, and that's a long, long time

Until the twelfth of never, and that's a long, long time.”

At your wedding, you promised to love each other for the rest of your lives, come what may. The song currently ending perfectly encapsulated your relationship with your husband; you two swore to love each other through the hard times and the good, regardless of what life threw your way. You and Aaron would always have each other’s backs, and that is what this song meant to you: that you would love each other until the twelfth of never—which, indeed, was a long, long time. 

[myloveforhergoeson]

i know that all of us see mrs. knight and the knight household as the main place the four btr boys revolve around because that is all that is shown to us in btrtv, but i've been thinking a lot about james and brooke lately so i have something to bring to the table!

the only time we see the other moms (imagine, for a second, its not simply because it's a mothers day episode) is when james specifically is in trouble - when is mother is threatening to pull him from his dream and bring him back to minnesota to live with her.

jennifer calls up joanna and sylvia when james is in need of help. not when logan and camille break up for the umpteenth time and jennifer could think 'hm, maybe his mom should be here to comfort him.' not when carlos' father comes to visit and she could think 'oh, hey, maybe sylvia should be here too.' the other moms are called specifically when james' livelihood - and more specifically, his happiness - is in danger.

because of this, i'd like to posit that while the knight household was likely the primary place of refuge for the btr boys, i'd also like to put forth that james spent a lot of time in houses that were not his. i'm thinking multi-night sleepovers when things in the diamond household(s) got out of hand both pre- and post-divorce, james going to a different house with his friends after school every day, having a permanent place for his items in the knight, mitchell, and garcia households...

joanna and sylvia take the first damn flight out of minnesota they can to rush to la and help talk brooke down from making a huge mistake. maybe it's because they all know she can be a pain to deal with, but the way everything was immediately dropped, how tough they were on brooke and her decision, and how they did not stop fighting until they found a solution to keep james in la, speaks to me that he is as much a part of their families as he is part of brooke's.

[damneddamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part ii)

My friend, I am writing this to you from the depths of the forest behind the castle. A thrush builds a nest far over my head while a violet beetle strums a tune, and nearby, a brown hart crosses a brook with her doe. It rains more often, and I stroll in it, wet to my bones. I alone bear witness to the marvels of my home. I cannot sit idle in my chambers anymore when no one seems to care about my whereabouts. Write soon, I eagerly await your tales of voyages on Vhagar. Yours, Aemma.

You should've seen him, the way Aemond Targaryen appeared when he unfurled the little scroll. It was a habit now. He would read and read it, for hours, a single wistful eye going back and forth on the page, mulling over each painstaking word, tracing her name, inhaling the scent of the soil on Dragonstone, before rolling the paper and depositing it with the others in his wooden chest for safekeeping. This letter found him over three moons ago. He had written back, twice, all to be met with nothing. He took to heart the gloom that seeped through the paper, unlike the bewitching girl he had heard from ages ago. She used to speak of collecting dragon eggs, running off with a boat into the sea, and exploring the caves beneath the courts. What was she up to now? What did she look like now? What were they doing to her?

Far away, on Dragonstone, Aemma's days evolved into boredom, a mere observer of the storms that raged. She grew further apart from her still-devoted mother, biding in heartbreak and loss while the princess enabled the household with Prince Daemon. Aemma couldn't help but see her father, Ser Laenor, everywhere. In the salt of the sea, in the misty eyes of his dragon, Seasmoke, in the boats that were docked at the bay, and in the sea glass that washed ashore. She became more disturbed, more evasive, and similarly, more accustomed to her smarting headaches. You could tell the days of her girlhood and absurd adventures were behind her.

There were times when her dear brothers would find a way to shed some light in her life by taking her to the watchpoint to have her see them glide above the ocean, mounted upon Vermax and Arrax. She had once ached for a dragon of her own, but she had given up as the years rolled into others. It didn't seem to matter, nothing changed in the way her family saw her.

Other times, she'd think of her dearest friend, Aemond, across the reach, training hard, fighting battles, riding Vhagar—he felt like a distant dream. A wish that would never quite be. Writing to Aemond brought back serenity to the young princess' mind. The quieter times were behind her. Her getaways were discounted now, but she'd continue to search the island for new excitement just for him. He was a gentle reminder that it was never too late to take action on what she had once dreamed herself to be.

On the morning of her father's observance, Aemma was informed that the princess would like to break bread with her. She didn't know what to expect. So she dressed in her best silks and joined her mother at the overflowing table. Aemma engaged in silence, scraping her fork against the plate, unable to hold her mother's expectant eyes. She wanted to share her troubles, talk about the past, and remember him the right way. Nothing came out except—

"I've missed you," Aemma managed to speak. It was the truth, she'd missed her mother's presence around her dearly.

"Then why have you been shying away from me?" her mother returned, her voice gentle. "Tell me, Aemma. What have I done to receive your silence?"

She met her mother's gaze, stronger now. "Nothing."

Her mother breathed a sigh. "I have not forced it upon you to wed a strange lord. Daemon often prompts me on this, but I refuse it because I know your heart. It belongs to no one but you." She reached across to warm her daughter's cold fingers. "Your brothers worry that your woes have become too deep these days. I share this concern with them, my love. I know you ache for Laenor—"

And the whisper-thin weir broke loose. Aemma's face crumpled into distress, using a hand to muffle a soft cry. She hasn't heard that name around here. No one would dare speak it. This has been a long time coming.

"No, mother," Aemma wept.

"Oh, Em. Even after all these years." Rhaenyra stood up to bound to her side, pressing her daughter into a tight embrace against her chest. "I'm here. Unburden yourself."

"Why doesn't it hurt as much for anyone else?" she asked through her tears, her shoulders shuddering. "Not you, Jace or Lord Corlys. Why me?"

"You loved your father more fiercely than any of us." Her mother stroked her fingers through Aemma's braids softly. "In time, you'll learn to make peace with the memories. Just as we have."

Aemma nodded, eventually finding it in herself to take solace in her mother's careful words. She felt a soft nudge against her stomach, moving out of her mother's arms to touch her swollen belly. Another addition to the family.

"I still want you to take a husband in marriage, Aemma, at your own will and time," her mother said to her, more serious now. She brushed a finger over her tear tracks.

"It does not interest me, mother," Aemma confessed with a sigh. "I've said this plenty."

"Yes, I know."

"Spare me the argument then."

"At the very least a kind, respecting companion who will support you in upholding your duties and protect your ideals, just as your father did for me," she insisted.

"If I were to wed, you would make me a pillar in a dismal court at King's Landing," she tried to explain, but her anxieties piled up to rush out in a mess. "Name me heir to the throne, face all those vile aspersions with a stone heart, and have me mindlessly plough out babes which I don't think I'm capable of for the life of me. I will not be made into a husk of my—"

Rhaenyra caught her chin to interrupt and glared her daughter straight in the eye. "You will not be heir."

She blinked once. "Mother."

"You should be, as my firstborn. I don't deny it. I've fought the very Gods for this privilege my entire life." Her mother palmed her cheek, her expression softening. "But it does not outweigh my oath to you and myself when I first held you in my arms. That I would never subject you to what my father had me brook, a mere political headache until I couldn't see past myself on the throne. I see my misplaced youth in you, daughter, and I want you to prevail for the both of us. Live as you please, captain a ship, voyage as an explorer, and not a tongue will raise against you. I will see to it."

Aemma stared at her mother, her words dripping into her mind one by one. She hoped she heard all of it right.

"For that, Jacaerys will be named my heir," the princess affirmed. "Although, as your brother's kin, you have to take to husband. I cannot have Jace's claim questioned any further. I can only grant you so much latitude on this, not freedom. I am sorry, it's all I—"

Aemma leapt at her mother to swallow her in a delighted embrace. It felt like a warm sunrise after a cold, unclear night, and it carried all before anyone. She pushed her face into her mother's neck, squeezing her as close as to pour her graciousness into her. She would never forgive herself if she were to do wrong by the princess, someone who trusted their years of deprivation and defeat to her.

"Thank you, my princess," Aemma whispered.

Her mother exhaled a laugh, smoothing many kisses against her cheek. "I am all but worthy of you."

"But, mother," she drawled and pulled away to show her the confusion. "How am I to move forward with this?"

"We can do this slowly. I will soon send word to a few great houses in Westeros. Essos, too, if you'd like," her mother divulged, smiling. "You will treat with them until you find someone who agrees with you. I won't bestow you upon them as a broodmare, they will value you as a princess and a lady. Take all the time you need, and satisfy your discretion."

"You make it sound so effortless," Aemma muttered.

"It will be, Em. Don't think too much, speak your mind, if you must. Someone who does not squinch at your wishes is most suited for your hand."

She shook her head. "I am not confident about that."

Her mother kissed her cheek again. "Simply let it happen, my love. Good things will follow."

X

As it turned out, the word of mouth of insurgency and challenges of Prince Lucerys' claim to the Driftwood throne brought the Dragonstone Targaryens back to their home on King's Landing. The young princes and princess were to stay with the rest of their kin after a long period of separation. A union for the ages.

Soon enough, that word grew old and what delighted the realm was the pleasing news that Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen of Dragonstone was arranging matters with a select few houses to place suitable marriage prospects for her eldest daughter, Aemma Velaryon. At sixteen years of age, her flowering into maidenhood had made her more beautiful. She would eventually draw the eyes of many young lords in the kingdom. Hightower, Blackwood, Arryn and Stark were among the favoured handful.

This matter did not escape Prince Aemond's ears, but he remained impassive to it. It shouldn't bother him, why would it? He knew it was only a matter of time before Aemma would be within these castle walls and he would heed her words before all else. This must be foul play from his sordid half-sister Rhaenyra. The Aemma Aemond knew would never stand for this plight. She would stand before him and remind him of his promise all those years back, they would mount Vhagar together and take to the open seas. Of course, he remembered. He always knew this day would come.

The morning Aemma arrived at the Red Keep, Aemond stood atop the verandah past the courtyard with his brother and sister, his head held high to show his duty and not his deference. But his eye searched and hungrily awaited the sight of her again. What did she look like? Was she as nimble and reserved as they said? That she was the epitome of a true Targaryen princess? Or perhaps—

"Whose eyes does Aemond One-Eye seek?" Halaena droned quietly, taking his attention for a moment. That title irked him.

The carriage was emptied and already making for the gates. Had he missed her arrival? No, she was too hard to miss.

Halaena took his arm, leading him back into the entrance doors. Aemond wavered, his sights still on the courtyard. Why hadn't she come? Where had she gone?

"Come, brother. She'll join us later, I'm sure of it."

He was having none of it. People expected Aemond to simply go about his day as if Aemma's disappearance from the occasion was irrelevant. He was ushered to break bread with his family in a rather torrid affair and train with Ser Criston in the undern when all of his thoughts were linearly on the young princess. Where, where, where.

He sweated out his anguish, battling hard, swinging his sword in lithe twists until Cole's sword was knocked out of his fingers with Aemond's simple outmanoeuvre. While the sparse crowd clapped for him, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two of Aemma's brothers. The bastards of Dragonstone. The ones who cost him his eyesight. He'd been through a world of pain since that night. He would not let that slide, not so soon.

"Nephews! Have you come to train?" Aemond called out, hoping to get something out of them. Any one of them would know where Aemma had run off to.

Jace's gaze sharpened with a black stare as Aemond approached them in fleeting steps. Jace put himself protectively in front of Luke. Aemond scoffed through his nose and dropped his sword on the table nearby.

As if he'd venture to cut the throats of the princes of the realm. In front of all these witnesses. How unseemly.

"Aemma," he declared. Her name left his lips like a plea.

"What about her?" Jace sneered.

Oh, he was not making this easy. "The princess was missing this morning."

"Why would I ever—"

"She went to the stables to see her direwolf," Luke said instead, catching his eye. Aemond wanted to carve out his skin every moment the boy lingered unpunished. "She didn't arrive with us because... she didn't want the attention."

This piqued him. "Why not?"

"Seven hells, Luke," Jace hissed.

"You know how much sister cares for him," Luke mentioned.

Jace sighed, sensing his fairness, and spared Aemond an apprehensive look. "Aemma's not in the mood to speak to anyone. In fact, she should've stayed back. My poor sister had an unfortunate incident attempting to claim the Bronze Fury not long ago."

X

Aemond wasted no time in tracking down her chambers from her brother's directions. With bated breath, he burst through the doors—"Aemma?"

His dread intensified when he noticed her belongings still stacked in spotless trunks in the corner by the vanity as if she were planning to leave as soon as she came. No, he simply would not allow it.

He carelessly pushed the curtains of the bed aside to find it untouched. The room was freshly scented of lavender oil; she had recently taken a bath. Her cloak hung off the edge of her dining chair. Her gold jewellery was left scattered on the table. She had been here.

"Aemma!" he called aloud again.

"Aemond?" Aemma's delicate dulcet reached his ears.

From the short balcony, she finally presented herself before him, coming between the sunlight and him. Indeed, the rumours were true. Gone was the tempestuous little girl from his treasured memories and instead, in her place, stood a lady so impressive he couldn't believe it was Aemma. She had come into her own beautifully, in the graceful slopes of her breast, waist, nose and lips. There were still traces of that young girl which refused to give way, blessed in her doe eyes, sun-kissed skin and—her hair.

This was what her brothers had vaguely mentioned to him.

Her silvery-blonde hair, that usually flaunted intricate braids or hung in pretty ringlets around her waist, had been completely singed off by dragon fire, all the length and volume lost to a limp mess of curls around her neck. Her mother must have attempted to cheer her up by fashioning a delicate crown of braids around her head.

Aemond didn't care for any of it. She could've stood there with a third eye or a cock in her hands—this was his Aemma, in the flesh. Six years he had gone without her. Nothing could stop him now.

He couldn't contain himself any longer, he strode across the floor to bear her in his arms. As tightly, closely, and intimately as his strength allowed. This had not changed at all, she was as warm as the day she'd parted him.

"It's really you," Aemond exhaled with a faint, incredulous laugh. He spun her around in just as much elation as when he had first dismounted Vhagar and taken to her celebrations.

When he set her on her feet, Aemma had laughed in delight and taken his face into her palms, her dark eyes observing every tick of muscle in his features with a disbelieving smile. Even if his ghastly scar had startled her, she didn't show it.

"I've missed you every day, my friend," Aemma murmured. Gods, you could see his chest swell with satisfaction. It was exactly what he wanted to hear from her.

"How you've grown," he commended, warmly stroking her waist. "So tall and elegant... no wonder all the realm is vying for your hand."

Even the words tasted like poison in his mouth. His expression soured a little.

"And you! I never thought I'd live to see the day your hair was longer than mine own," she exclaimed back, overlooking his mood shift. She held his broad shoulders, measuring the distance between her hands. "You've come to be with the power of a true dragon-rider. I am proud. How goes Vhagar?"

"Insatiable." Much like him right now. "Come with me. I'll fly you over the bay for as long as you'd like."

He'd like to get the word out to the smallfolk, that the princess has been taken to another prince more deserving of her.

"Oh, no. I don't think I can even see another dragon without pissing myself," she told him, her eyes set on their feet. Discomfiture was evident on her face. "I tried to mount... Vermithor upon Daemon's guidance and my hair—" she sadly touched the soft trims around her neck "—I lost it in doing so. If it weren't for him, I would've lost my life, too."

Aemond's arms tensed under her touch. The thought of it was excruciating. What was his uncle thinking, putting such a hysterical little girl in front of a beast as large as Vhagar? And what was Aemma thinking, that such a ferocious beast would bow to someone with her merciful attitude?

She looked up at him, heavyhearted. "Do I look dreadful?"

Aemma could not begin to question that when he had been stricken by her fortitude all those years ago. No burned braids, dirtied skirts, or lost dragons could make up for that.

"I'm certain it'll alarm the lords but not me. You were always glorious to me, princess," he appreciated her, not-so-subtly.

She threw her head back to laugh freely. "Then I must tell my mother to cease this weary pursuit to find me a husband. At least until my hair has grown to an adequate length."

That sounded like a great strategy. It gave him enough time to plot a controlled plan to relieve Aemma of this pressure.

"Have you met with anyone?" he asked, his voice calculating.

She made a face. "Not yet. Lord Blackwood has written to my mother. But..." A lightness overtook her features. "After my stay has ended, I'll be heading north to treat with the Lord of Winterfell."

"Winterfell?" He made the word sound like filth on his tongue. "Those vulgar cunts will cut you up and stuff you in a pie before you can wish them good morrow."

She snickered. "Lord Cregan Stark, my mother tells me, is a gentle giant. No older than I am. I hear from my grandsire that he is an honourable king to his people." She twiddled her thumbs to hide a smile. "Lord Stark wrote to me a while ago. He is rather charming."

Aemond couldn't stand her growing fondness for that filthy northerner. "You write to each other?"

"It was only one letter," she denied. "To pursue familiarity? In any case, my family are thrilled. House Stark is an invincible, age-old power."

Aemond sneered under his breath. A mere word of mouth had swayed her affections to the cold deadness of the north. As if Aemma would last a single winter up there. Warm and beaming in that Stark's arms... he wanted to gouge his one remaining eye out and douse it in acid.

His vindictive thoughts faltered to the Aemma in front of him, who was lulling him to immodest thoughts at the way she stroked her finger down the long scar on his cheek. His eyes almost shut at the bittersweet sensation.

"Jace told me what happened that night with you and Luke," she professed, sadness enveloping her expression. "I never got to tell you how sorry I am, my friend. You must've been in great pain."

He gulped down the bile that rose to his throat at the mention, but he maintained his calm demeanour. Instead, he brought her fingers on his cheek to his mouth and, without thinking, lay a delicate kiss.

"Long forgotten," he lied.

He didn't miss the way Aemma's lips fluttered with a sharp inhale and slipped her hand to her side. She massaged the wrist with a flustered chuckle.

"The eyepatch is... different," she said breathlessly.

Aemond was affecting her, quite obviously. Just not enough. He glanced from the corner of his eye, smug, as she walked around him and toward the bed.

"You might not like what lies under it," he said. "Besides, I'd say we match for life now."

If only she read into what he truly meant. She knowingly touched the noticeable scar that cut through her eyebrow with an absentminded smile. "Yes, we do."

He couldn't wait on this any longer. The words were bursting at the seams, coming undone. "I must talk to you at once."

Aemond took her hand to hasten her to sit beside him on the bed. He entwined his fingers between hers and held it to his chest as he asked her, enunciating his words carefully. She watched him with all her focus.

"Do you truly want to be wed? Have they imposed this on you? You can tell me, Aemma, I will do anything in my power to stop this insanity. I will burn down that damned Sept for you if that's what it takes."

She smiled at him. "Don't fret for me. I am content."

"Surely you lie. 'Tis not good for you." They're not good for you, he wanted to say.

"My mother is right, my dear friend. If I can find someone who can understand what I want out of the marriage, I certainly couldn't ask for more. An honest relationship," she whispered intently. "It's all I want."

Her words burned him more intensely than any inferno in the world. Because she never saw him as a prospect. He would make her see him.

"Whatever fucking happened to fighting for your liberties? To not run in the face of adversity?" he snapped, dropping her hand from between his. "You said it to me, did you not?"

"I have done my part. I've deferred it fairly," she stated, slightly staggered at his tone. "This is a resolution."

"You've given up."

"I have not."

"They've turned you against me," he muttered.

"Oh, spare me the theatrics. Am I to remain a maiden all my life?" she asked, laughing.

He reached out to clasp her chin, but he made sure to be gentle how much ever he raged on the inside. Her smile fell to confusion, her gaze flickering to his fingers and then his eyes.

"You said we'd travel the world together. That we'd ride together on Vhagar, feast all we liked, row boats, build tents, see the world's wonders—am I to consign those ideals to nought? Have you filled my head with meaningless fiction?"

She breathed out a short gasp of incredulity before relieving his grip on her in sharp movement. She stood up to slant by a pillar, pushing her head into her hand. She was a picture of perfection toiled in a peculiar sort of misery. Beauty became her.

"We were children," she mumbled. "Priorities shift over time. I am a princess, a Targaryen no less, sans a dragon. I am without worth if not for my mother, and so are my ambitions."

He scoffed. "Maybe to you. I have counted on every letter, every fucking word, you've penned to me like a madman. You've grown a hunger in my heart and now you mean to crush it with your unfeeling hands."

"I don't understand what you want from me," she spoke, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I want you!" he growled, pushing to his feet.

She turned to stone before him. Perhaps she had not heard him properly. Aemond took a calm breath inward. No turning back from this anymore.

"Wed me, Aemma," he said, surer of himself. It felt right to say those words aloud, in that exact order. He had never imagined saying it to any other lady except her.

Aemma eventually thawed and lifted her head to stare at him. As if she was waiting for something. He couldn't get a read on her. Her immense, dark eyes softened and smouldered and ravaged his mind.

"Wed me and make me yours," he persuaded softly. "I will protect your honour, our dreams, and our future together better than any foul-mouthed, fat swine lordling this realm has to offer. May the Gods help anyone who stands in my way."

"Aemond," she whispered with an edge of hysteria in her voice.

"Aemma," he murmured.

He sauntered closer to her, leisurely dragging his knuckles down her forearm all the way to her wrist. She had the softest of skin, unblemished, kissed by daylight. He elicited a shiver from her, an abrupt action pressing her closer to his chest.

"I've waited a lifetime for this. For us," he confessed. "I have known no other hope that was not you. Now that I have you, my hope is not misplaced."

The little vestige of control he had on his self-restraint began to splinter and then it would be damaging for him to be around her. It was only right to give her some leeway to consider his transparent proposal.

Aemond deliberately stepped away, tucking his hands together behind his back. "But I am a man of virtue. I will never push you to do something you disfavour."

Her lips parted as air shuddered back into her, a hand supporting herself over the stone pillar. She kneaded at her forehead, soothing away a headache.

"I... need to think."

He beamed brightly. "Yes, good. 'Tis a lot to fathom. A night's rest should do nicely. On the morrow, I shall revisit you, and we shall break our fast together."

Her brows furrowed when she understood. "You mean to court me."

"Apparently so."

"You will cause indecent speculation," she warned.

He pursed his lips, unable to contain his amusement. "Hmm. Why can't a prince and his dear niece dine together after all these years apart?"

Aemma uneasily bit her lip.

"We disregard their baseless whispers as we always have."

X

The hearsay of Prince Aemond and Princess Aemma breaking bread together and alone swept like wildfire around the Red Keep. It was said that among those the news had stunned, it was Prince Jacaerys who had taken this as a slight. Meanwhile, the Princess of Dragonstone and her consort, Prince Daemon, weren't certain of the positive response on this matter. One night, a thoughtful conversation in High Valyrian was heard from their shared chambers.

"Laenor had always sworn that Aemma was for Aemond," she pondered out loud to Daemon. "They've been following each other around since they could walk. We all saw this coming."

"She has hardly met with any other men," he said. "Offer her other options. Taste the local flavours. I hear Lord Stark has been quite pleased. He wrote to her personally, didn't he?"

"Aemond is what she wants," she sighed.

"She takes after her mother," the prince teased. "Seeking out her uncle."

"Daemon."

"Then make her see that the boy is not what he seems. Our girl has purposes that do not conform to his own. She intends to be like me," he chuckled, "and he is loyal to his sword."

"I will not twist my daughter's mind into submission," she grumbled.

"Gently dissuade."

The princess laughed quietly, stroking her pregnant belly. "Or it would do good for us to form an alliance with Alicent and the king. Protect our lineage from within. And with it, strengthen my claim to the throne."

Daemon hummed, mulling it in his mind. "He is only the second son after all. It is that drunken cunt who will be a threat."

"Precisely. I intend to hit two birds with one stone."

X

you can continue to read part iii here! and here's my masterlist!

hope you like the way this is progressing! do let me know what you'd like to see ~*