#go home Brandon!

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

She NEVER disappoints!! MAUREEN CALLAHAN: "I demanded doddery Biden get off his sun lounger and go to Hawaii. But after THAT shambolic visit, I take it all back... The people of Maui have suffered enough."

Biden interrupted his Lake Tahoe vacation on Monday to fly five (5) hours to the island, and insist that the federal government was there for the islanders, despite the announcement of the paltry sum of $700 compensation for each household. 

By Maureen Callahan 22 Aug 2023

We all called for the President last week. Where was he, days after the apocalyptic Maui wildfires?

Actually, we knew where he was: On the beach at his shore home in Delaware. Prepping for his next vacation in Lake Tahoe. Issuing a reptilian ‘no comment’ when asked about the thousand-plus people missing and the Pompeii-like damage and what his plan was.

When was he going to visit?

For what it’s worth, I wrote an impassioned column imploring the president to go.

Now I take it all back. The people of Maui have suffered enough.

Joe Biden finally saw fit to interrupt his second vacation since the wildfires, to don his well-worn mantle as Empathizer-in-Chief, put his feet on the ground in Hawaii and comfort the survivors, 13 days after the fires.

It did not go well.

‘F**k you!’ was the prevailing greeting to his motorcade. Residents held unwelcoming signs: ‘It’s too late’. ‘Actions speak louder than words’.

Right they are.

We all called for the President last week. Where was he, days after the apocalyptic Maui wildfires? I wrote an impassioned column imploring the president to go. Now I take it all back. The people of Maui have suffered enough.

Joe Biden finally saw fit to interrupt his second vacation since the wildfires, to don his well-worn mantle as Empathizer-in-Chief and comfort the survivors, 13 days after the fires. It did not go well. ‘F**k you!’ was the prevailing greeting to his motorcade.

Yet Joe Biden was not humbled. Joe Biden doesn’t know shame. Instead he gave a meandering speech invoking, yet again, his own tragedies, dosed as usual with a soupçon of exaggeration.

‘I don’t want to compare difficulties,’ he said. Spoiler alert: He compared difficulties.

Once upon a time, he and Jill had suffered a kitchen fire while he was off doing a glamorous TV spot on ‘Meet the Press’. He almost lost his classic Corvette! Parked at his waterfront house!

Would the people of Maui, living through the agonies of entire families burned to ashes in their homes, of a 14-year-old boy’s body discovered alone and clutching his dead dog, care to hear those details?

‘It was a sunny Sunday,’ Biden said — oh my God, is there no one in this White House who can keep this president on-message? — ‘and lightning struck at home on a little lake that’s outside of our home — not a lake, a big pond — and hit a wire and came up underneath our home into our heating ducts, the air conditioning ducts.

‘To make a long story short, I almost lost my wife, my ’67 Corvette, and my cat. But all kidding aside’ — there’s a joke in here? — ‘I watched the firefighters, the way they responded… they ran into flames to save my wife and save my family… sometimes smoke is so thick… it was that thick inside the home.’

Not so, said the firefighters who responded. The Biden kitchen fire, according to the Cranston Heights Fire Company, was ‘insignificant’ and put out in just 20 minutes.

But hey — Joe Biden never lets facts get in the way of a good story. And no one’s suffering can ever compare to his own.

His speech to the people of Maui was disgusting. It was all about him. Note this line: 'I give you my word, as a Biden.'

As a Biden? How about as President of the United States?

He had such a low bar to clear: Get on the ground, shake hands and offer hugs, look survivors in the eye and listen to their stories, and offer a clear plan of action.

All he had to do was deliver a brief, locked-and-loaded speech and cede the stage to local heroes — take a page from George W. Bush’s promise on the World Trade Center pile after 9/11.

But he can’t do it. Joe Biden is fundamentally, constitutionally incapable of allowing others their grief. He literally claimed that he had ‘a similar experience’ to the Maui survivors.

Protestors greet Biden with 'f**k you' as he arrives in Maui

He had such a low bar to clear: Get on the ground, shake hands, offer hugs - and a clear plan of action. But he can’t do it. Joe Biden is fundamentally, constitutionally incapable of allowing others their grief. (Pictured: Flames devastate Lahaina, Hawaii, earlier this month).

‘By the way,’ he continued, ‘for 36 years I was listed as the poorest man in Congress, so I didn’t get there based on my income.’

Can you believe that was part of his speech to the survivors? How is it germane? Remotely relevant? Does Biden really want to invoke his family’s suspicious riches?

To quote Barack Obama: ‘Don’t underestimate Joe’s ability to f**k things up.’

Biden went on to perseverate over the loss of his first wife and infant daughter in a car crash — a tragedy he blamed on the other driver, who Biden infamously falsely accused of being drunk.

‘So, I have a little bit of sense of what it’s like.’

No, Mr. President, you do not.

It was the same when he met with Gold Star families whose loved ones died in his botched Afghanistan withdrawal, repeatedly invoking his late son Beau, who he often claims died in Iraq. (Beau died of a brain tumor.)

It was the same when he was caught checking his watch every single time one of those 13 flag-draped caskets were loaded off military planes at Dover.

‘The most disrespectful thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Darin Hoover, father of fallen Marine Staff Sgt. Taylor Hoover. ‘They would release the salute and he looked down at his watch on every last one. All 13, he looked down at his watch.’

So now I know: Joe Biden should have stayed away from Maui. He should have sent thoughts and prayers and far more than a $700 check to each surviving family. He should have begged Barack Obama or another esteemed Hawaiian to go.

The Rock would have done better. Jason Momoa. Hell, anyone but tone-deaf, crusty old Joe.

Looking at a canine rescue and recovery dog with protective paw gear, Biden ‘joked’ to the press: ‘You guys catch the boots out here? That’s some hot ground, man.’

Ugh, that ‘man’. Joe’s such a cool cat, don’t you know, just one of us. Amtrak Joe. Watch out: He might beat you up in the parking lot after fourth period. Remember ‘CornPop’? The gang leader with a razor blade at the community pool back in 1962? The 'bad dude' Joe Biden beat back with a 6ft-long chain?

Joe Biden, pathological fabulist, national embarrassment.

He should have stayed away from Maui. He should have sent thoughts and prayers and far more than a $700 check to each surviving family. He should have begged Barack Obama or another esteemed Hawaiian to go. The Rock would have done better. Hell, anyone but tone-deaf, crusty old Joe. (Pictured: Joe and Jill on the beach in Delaware earlier this month).

Those canines, by the way, have only been able to work in short shifts because the ground in Lahaina remains sizzling hot. That’s cause for alarm, not a comedy bit.

How about that climate crisis, Mr. President?

Speaking of — please, for the love of all that is sacred, stay away from Palm Springs and Los Angeles and any future disaster areas in general. The American people don’t need to see their doddering, likely demented president wandering away from a podium, mouth slack and eyes vacant, needing to be guided, as we witnessed on Monday.

This sad showing is a microcosm of the Biden presidency: No one’s at the wheel. The whole world can see it. Is this who the Dems really want to prop up in 2024?

And where’s Jill Biden in all of this? Most wives would gently take their husband by the hand and say: ‘Time’s up. You did your best, but it’s time to leave.’

Most wives would want to protect what’s left of their husband’s dignity. Legacy.

Not so for the Bidens, now safely ensconced in an $18 million vacation home, out of sight.

Awkward moment gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern as Hawaii Democrat tries to speak to him minutes after giving tone-deaf speech to victims of Maui's killer wildfires

Gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern in Hawaii

By David AverreUpdated 07:30 EDT 22 Aug 2023

Biden had a cringeworthy moment with Democrat Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz

President Joe Biden compounded his disastrous trip to Hawaii in the wake of devastating wildfires with yet another gaffe, blatantly ignoring a Democrat senator before gormlessly shuffling off at the end of an uninspiring speech yesterday.

The 80-year-old had a particularly awkward moment with Democratic Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz when, at the conclusion of a press conference, Schatz offered him a sip of water.

Biden completely blanked the senator and turned his back on him. He then began shuffling off, mouth hanging open and gazing listlessly into the crowd, while his wife Jill and Hawaii Governor Josh Green ushered him away from the lectern.

Furious Hawaiians had already greeted the President with ire, shouting 'f*** you' at his motorcade and brandishing signs telling him to go home as the 80-year-old and his wife toured the island of Maui 13 days after the inferno broke out.

The awkward scene came shortly after Biden had delivered a meandering, tone-deaf speech in which he compared the wildfires - which have killed at least 114 people and left 850 missing - to his experience of a small kitchen fire.

Gormless-looking Biden shuffles away from lectern after speech

Biden had a particularly awkward moment with Democratic Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz when, a t the conclusion of a press conference, Schatz offered a sip of water to Biden and gestured beside the lectern at a bottle of water

The President completely blanked the senator and turned his back on him. He then began shuffling off

His wife Jill and Hawaii Governor Josh Green ushered him away from the lectern

President Biden told Maui the nation 'grieves with you' in his first visit to the island since wildfires ravaged the city of Lahaina and the surrounding community

Biden and first lady Jill Biden look at a burned car with Hawaii Gov. Josh Green and his wife Jaime Green as they visit areas devastated by the Maui wildfires

People watch as the motorcade carrying President Joe Biden to visit areas devastated by the Maui wildfires passes by. One local gives the president a thumbs down

Furious Maui residents slam Biden before tour of Lahaina

Biden rental at Tom Steyer's $18MILLION home may breach housing code

Biden is back in Lake Tahoe mansion after his awkward Hawaii visit

The President and his wife were not greeted warmly by residents of Hawaii yesterday.

As their motorcade drove through Maui, several people lined the streets waving Trump 2024 flags and shouting obscenities at the passing cars.

One person brandished a sign contrasting the money spent on Ukraine with the assistance sent to Hawaii - calculating that each Ukrainian has received over $1,700 since the war broke out in February 2022.

Meanwhile, the White House announced that each affected household in Hawaii will receive $700 - a sum many islanders considered insulting.

Locals' fury mounted on Sunday when Biden, who was asked about the fires as he relaxed on a Delaware beach, simply replied: 'No comment.' 🤡

And last week, he appeared to forget the name of Maui, repeatedly referring to fires blazing on 'the Big Island'.

Biden interrupted his Lake Tahoe vacation on Monday to fly five hours to the island, and insist that the federal government was there for the islanders, despite the announcement of the paltry sum of compensation for each household. 

Even Democrats were demanding to know why the federal aid had been slow to arrive and so meagre, joining their Republican colleagues in questioning Biden's delay in arriving in Maui.

The death toll in Maui has topped 114, with some 850 people still missing feared dead.

But Biden waited 13 days since the outbreak of the fires to visit the island. 

Biden embraced with Hawaii Gov. Josh Green

[shouldprobablybereading]

I feel quite mean when I say that I want Lift to feel very guilty about what happened to Gavinor. Because that’s putting an unproportional amount of blame on her

But I really do wish that she does. Her actions during day two where irresponsible and childish to a degree that she is way too old to be able to excuse. And unlike most other instances of Lifts funny shenanigans of refusing to do what she is told, this time it had severe life altering consequences that can never be fixed

And I really hope that this is the turning point for her of finally accepting change and growing up to a degree. Because wether you like it or not, when you’re not the youngest, when there is someone looking up to you and you let yourself be in that position. You have a responsibility to a degree and can’t just run off and break the rules whoever you want or give dangerous advice

[daughter-ofthe-sun]

Does it ever drive you crazy

Just how fast the night changes?

[linthehero]

twinkism be damned my boy can lift a milf

[goldeneyedgirl]

@sonyawix Alas, my exile was self-imposed until I wrote something. Even Whumptober didn't produce anything worthy of seeing (gave me some future ficlet ideas that will be fun though). I do not deserve tumblr-time when I apparently decided to just not write at all during 2024.

So I skipped ahead and started on this year's Ficmas offerings instead (now is the time to make your demands), and I always make sure I have some new Anathema for you! We have a little scene from Ch 3ish, for the second 'official' meeting of the Cullens.

Adding Demon Jasper and Feral Jasper/Mary-Alice to the upcoming list. Honestly, I was not expecting Demon Jasper to make a blip on anyone's radar, I am delighted people enjoyed that verse. And I love that My Nonsense (anything involving Mary-Alice) sparks joy for anyone.

So I offer up this part of Anathema, and hope it sparks joy. One thing I am loving about Anathema is that the first half pretty much outlined itself. We love fics that have direction and aspiration.

I always love hearing from you, Sonya, thank you for the message <3

Notes: This was an experimental scene to fix the pacing of the first meeting vs the Cullens getting involved with the Brandons. I wanted to establish that Edward and Alice will have a rapport in this fic, and to set more of the scene of how the Cullens do end up in cahoots with the rest of the Council. And to lay a lot of groundwork for Alice getting to know the Cullens as individuals.

There's a fairly robust few scenes between the first meeting and this that I'm not happy with yet. Even these parts are extremely rough. I've also been doing a lot of research into supernatural creatures and cryptids around North America to try and work on world-building a little more (some of this is a throwback to the OG draft of Afterglow which was fun). So any details that don't entirely match up have been noted and will be fixed when this gets posted on AO3.

--

The second time we officially run into the Cullens is more than three weeks later. And it goes about as well as anything else in my life does as the unluckiest person to ever live.

This is one excursion that I am allowed out of the house for - other than taking Dulcie's purse to her at the salon, and riding my bike to pick up Chinese food for dinner, I have been house-bound. It's almost as if Freddie - and Sue, for that matter - are certain that if I am not under full supervision, I'll run away to the Cullen house to join them all in whatever debauchery vampires get up to all day.

Which, from Dulcie's gossip, seems to be mostly work at the hospital for Dr Cullen, and going to high school for the 'kids'. Very scandalous. But despite me pointing out that I didn't know (precisely, yet) where the Cullen house is and that sneaking around both Forks Hospital and the high school were only going to draw the attention of gossips and probably Charlie Swan in an official capacity, Freddie kept both eyes on me.

I was going a little stir-crazy - not only had I been on house arrest, we'd only had one 'client', and he'd just been placed in cold storage whilst private preparations were made. So when Charlie summoned us all to the backwoods for a meeting, I wasn't complaining. Even tramping through the mud of the woods to have a secret clandestine meeting was better than cleaning or sitting around the apartment.

But no one was expecting Charlie Swan to be standing in our clearing with three figures. Three figures that nearly had me running back to the car. Lamia. Freddie's hand clamped down on my shoulder firmly; not to be cruel, but to protect me - showing any kind of aversion to a lot of the creatures that passed through was dangerous. It provoked some of them to strike. And lamia loved young girls.

"These three were passing through," Charlie Swan said uncomfortably. "Left a mess in Port Angeles."

"Very gracious of Mister Swan to introduce us." The tallest was over six feet, with waist-length dark hair. But like all old Lamia - and there were more than you'd think, honestly - she was unnaturally thin, her skin bleached, like she'd been forgotten in the sun for too long. Her hair looked sharp and brittle, like fine wire. And as she spoke, a serpentine hiss caught on the tails of her words. The only spark of colour was the dried-blood colour of her eyes and sockets - even her lips and tongue were stained black. Her fingernails were unnaturally long and looked more like bone than anything resembling keratin.

"What kind of mess?" Harry Clearwater said flatly. He wasn't subtle; he'd brought a shotgun.

The two younger Lamia looked down, as if regretful.

"We fed." The words are simple but every adult around me visibly recoils. I'm kind of numb to it - maybe it would be more horrific if I was older.

But the way that the Lamia speaks - almost smugly, as if to intentionally upset everyone here - annoys me beyond explanation. Odds are that anyone they fed on was young enough to have a mom and dad waiting at home for them, worried. That they wouldn't even get simple news that they were gone - they'd have to wait weeks for DNA testing to confirm who this bony old bitch had torn into.

"You need to go." Everyone swings around to look at me, and I'm kind of surprised I spoke as well. My words sound polite but firm, and there's a distinct undercurrent there I barely recognize in myself. I don't think I've ever spoken that way to anyone in my life.

"Excuse me, child?" Her eyes narrow.

//

I can see it happening as if it's in slow-motion; Harry lifting the shotgun, one of the younger Lamia reaching out for him with a look that meant someone was going to die; Charlie Swan had his service weapon out and I just… stepped forward and shoved the monster backwards.

It was gross, honestly. Between their age and their powers, their clothing is essentially a second flesh-covered skin that crackles under my hands. Their actual skin is so thin that I could feel, for that split second, all their organs churning. The smell of blood was overpowering, and I just wanted her to break into a million pieces.

Except...

//

"That was the most disgusting thing I have ever lived through," I half-shrieked as I made my way back to the meeting place. Sue followed with the flashlight, offering platitudes. "Why do these creatures always decide to be disgusting around me? I'm not going to be able to salvage any of those clothes."

"She could have killed you, Alice. You should have left her alone." Sue's words aren't convincing; the look on her face when I had stepped forward meant she saw imminent death was coming for both Harry and Charlie before I intervened.

"Well, she succeeded in murdering that pair of jeans," I said crankily, turning into the clearing. "…Oh."

The Cullens had shown up, and none of them looked happy.

And of course, I was now wearing a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms with bleach stains and an oversized Newtons Outfitters hoodie, with my hair scraped off my face from my impromptu water-bottle hair wash. I looked like I'd just rolled out of bed, and the Cullens looked like they'd stepped out of the pages of Vogue.

Jasper lingered just behind the bigger one - Emmett, I think I'd heard someone call him. He nodded at me when I met his gaze, and it was almost like he … relaxed somehow.

I was mostly embarrassed that I looked like this in front of him. He was wearing the softest looking black sweater I had ever seen, and immaculate jeans. My jeans were soaking in a bait bucket full of salt and vinegar, and would still be thrown in the garbage.

Just once, I wanted to look less like a grubby schoolgirl in front of him. Them. Not being swallowed up by thrift store winter coats or rejected clothing stashed in the car for incidents like this.

This absolutely wouldn't be an issue if I went to school. I'd be able to wear all the cute outfits I'd been planning in front of him - them - and look vaguely normal.

"We heard there was a meeting," Dr Cullen began. "We weren't notified."

"You weren't invited," Billy Black shot back firmly. "Your role is to keep us informed if others of your kind are in the area. The rest of our business doesn't involve you."

Freddie looked warily between the Council and the Cullens. "We gather as necessity dictates, and which parties are required," he said neutrally. "This was not a meeting that required your presence."

"Can we know what the meeting was about?" The red-headed boy stepped forward with the kind of confidence that belied his apparent age. "It would be helpful if we knew what was in the area."

Silence.

"We keep the area safe for the residents. We get a lot of things passing through," Charlie Swan said finally.

"But it would be immensely helpful if we knew exactly what we were dealing with - especially if injuries present at the hospital," Dr Cullen said earnestly.

I made a face - I remembered the absolute panic at Forks Hospital when the Nezhit had blown through a few years back. Having someone in the know dealing with the hospitalisations wouldn't be the worst idea…

…Who was I kidding, I was willing to make any argument if it meant I might be able to have a conversation with Jasper where I wasn't wearing glorified pyjamas, probably reeking of vomit. I definitely needed to stash more toiletries in the back of the car from now on.

I slunk towards a nearby boulder to take a seat, Freddie looking over to make sure I didn't stray too far. I knew there would be a lecture about my actions with the Lamia when I got home - even if I was preventing at least two gruesome murders, the rule was that I observed silently.

"Injuries are typically very low," Sue Clearwater said in a no-nonsense tone. "We manage fine."

"But didn't you just say that she was nearly harmed?" Mrs Cullen gestured at me. "Sweetheart, what happened?"

I scowled. "Lamia," I said, and Emmett Cullen let out a chuckle at the sound of loathing in my voice. "Did you know that the young ones don't so much as spit venom, but kind of projectile vomit when startled? And their venom is more along the lines of 'caustic rotting human tissue smoothie'? It was chunky."

"That is disgusting," the blonde girl said sharply.

"It was. And I was covered in it," I said, jumping when I heard a rumble coming from my left. Jasper; he looked pissed. Was he growling again?

"Why were you anywhere near them?" he asked, in that rough voice that sounded like it wasn't used very often, his eyes piercing through me.

"Easy, Jas," Emmett turned to look at his brother.

"She was going for Harry's throat," I said. "I just gave her a shove."

"You shoved a Lamia?" Dr Cullen looked at me with bewilderment.

"I'm not allowed to carry a weapon," I replied. Both Dr and Mrs Cullen looked taken aback.

"We need to be present at these meetings," Jasper said abruptly. "For protection."

"Protection?" Harry Clearwater sneered. "From you?"

"We'd be happy to help," Mrs Cullen tried again, and the blonde girl scoffed.

"We're faster and stronger than most other creatures," the redhead said - Edward? That might have been his name.

"I mean…" Charlie Swan looked at my uncle. "Not many things we come across will try and negotiate with a local coven. It could encourage a lot of them to move on sooner."

"We don't need a voice in these meetings unless they directly involve us," Dr Cullen continued. I was watching the negotiations without drawing attention to the fact that Jasper was moving closer to me, leaning against the other end of the rock I was perched on - and honestly, trying not to giggle at how unsubtle he was being. "We simply want to make sure that none of you come to harm doing your duties."

"I really don't think this is necessary." Sue looked angry and was talking in that short, clipped way she did before she was about to blow - I remembered what happened when Seth and his friends tried to make s'mores with a cut gasline when Seth was, like, eight.

"A Lamia could have killed any of you before anyone could react. You could have been scraping Alice's remains off the rock," Edward shot back.

"Where did they go, anyway?" I asked, forgetting my plan to avoid drawing attention to the fact that Jasper was only three feet away from me - and that was a generous estimate.

"Alice, come over here," Freddie insisted, and I pretended not to hear him.

"They didn't stick around," Charlie Swan said shortly. My gaze fell to the shotgun in Harry's hands.

"We were downwind," Emmett winked at me.

"They won't return - they're heading up to Canada," Edward added before his gaze fell towards Jasper. "No."

"They attacked her," Jasper said, looking at his brother with a flat gaze. "They moved to attack the whole group."

"And they killed some kids in Port Angeles," I volunteered. "Probably teenage girls."

"Someone is going to have to check the bodies to make sure we don't have a fresh Lamia on the rise," Freddie said tiredly. "Charlie, if you put in the request for I.Ding for me tonight, I can drive up tomorrow."

"They're murdering children?" the blonde stepped to the front, her gaze hard.

"There are two parallel species of Lamia," Freddie said, trying to catch my attention. Jasper hadn't attempted to move any closer but was surreptitiously watching me. I wasn't budging; this was the closest I had been to Jasper Cullen since he arrived and I was curious about so many things - and enjoying the fact that he seemed to be just as curious of me. "You can tell the difference based on the presence of scaling surrounding the cheekbones and feet. One hunts men, the other prefers young people, usually girls."

"Three girls, around fourteen," Charlie Swan confirmed grimly. "I.Ding them will be difficult, so we shouldn't have any issue getting that approved, Fred."

"Rose," Edward said warningly and she sneered at him, tucking herself next to Emmett.

I looked over at Jasper then, to find him watching me carefully.

"They didn't hurt you?" he asked softly. I shook my head.

"We'll protect you." He looks away when he says that, back at the group.

It's not an offer now; it's a firm insistence - the kind of tone that doesn't accept arguments or compromise. Who was he before he joined the Cullens? He didn't look that much older than me, really; like… all the Cullens, really, he physically looked young but there was age and time in the way they carried themselves, the way they spoke, the look in their eyes. Every single one of them looked a little bit haunted, honestly.

Edward looked exasperated but was watching me carefully. He was strange in a genuinely interesting way.

Jasper looked back over at me as Dr Cullen tried to soften the new requirement for their continued presence at any public meetings with Sue and Charlie.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked over at my uncle, who didn't look happy.

"Come on, Alice," Freddie said, and he sounded more tired than annoyed. "It's time to go. We'll discuss this with the Cullens later."

[hayquetenerpatience]

Bye bye Joe. Good riddance!

[stefisdoingthings]

truly going feral over gungrave y’all trigun fans HAVE to watch it

[solarsunshine]

H-O-T-T-O-G-O/You can take me hot to go!

[afrognamedfizzarolli]

Thinking about her

I know it probably wont happen, but ya boy can hope

[dashiellqvverty]

i apologize to all my mutuals i promise i will be normal but there is a part of me regressing to my 15 year old self reading an archived livejournal pete/key manifesto for the first time at 12am on a school night

[vox-off]

my mother just called to tell me she has a cold, so she told the rest of the guests that were coming over for xmas tomorrow not to come, so it would just be her and me. and she doesn't want to risk them getting sick, but she'll mask and stay 6 feet away from me and it'll be fine because she doesn't have a fever

then was sad and tried to negotiate with and then guilt me when i asked if we could just postpone because i don't want to get sick either!!

and now i'm anxious and worked up because there's still a part of me scared shitless of disappointing my parents even though this is the logical step to take!! she can mask and stay 6 feet away from me all she wants but unless she's sanitized all surfaces in her house or masks 24/7 in her own house, i can still get fucking sick!!!!

[ohmymets]

fave citi field moments of 2024: you will not clinch a division in our house thank you very much!

Mets vs Phillies, September 19th

I wasn't going to go to any of the games involving the Phillies, because as mentioned, I like my baseball lowkey, and in September 2024, there was nothing lowkey about a Mets vs Phillies fixture. I don't love crowds, I had work in the morning, etc etc...

On the other hand, the regular season was coming to a close, which mean that summer was coming to a close and the cold weather would be arriving. The winter never makes me feel very good. So I figured that I've got to push past any sort of discomfort and go to as many games as I could.

The idea for this Tumblr actually came from this game, because my absolute joy as Vientos, Alsonso, Alvarez and Nimmo homered felt especially heightened, a bit of a weird sensation I guess, and I remember feeling a release from journaling when I was younger.

It was also my first time seeing Diaz's entrance with the new ribbon lighting! I've long been an advocate of The Trumpets because I always loved the whimsy of it. Maybe it was a sign of things to come.

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[linthehero]

not to be violent or anything but if bryce doesn’t win a streamy i think we should all riot because if she doesn’t win it’s rigged because if anyone deserves to win it’s her

[cherryheairt]

Hidden Truths pt.2

Cregan x wife!reader

named reader no description, from house Glover

masterlist

part 1

thank y'all so much for the kind words and eagerness to see this part. Please forgive me for not replying to all asks being sent to inbox, you'll understand with the chap lol. The pressure was so real I had planned to write other things between pt 1 and 2 but I dropped everything to do this between work and sleep lol

changed the og ending because so many people thought it would be more fitting and I agreed lol

anon pointed out my mistake on glover and bolton im so sorry for that confusion yall it is meant to be glover originally. i made too many mistakes im a mess rn

Ernest makes it to Cregan's solar first, Ron not far on his heels. Panting, the younger speaks up first when Cregan Stark shoots them a bewildered look whilst hunched over his oak desk.

"Was Lady Stark due for some business today, My Lord?" He asked, catching his breath as Cregan sat up in his seat, attention fully on the guards.

"Not any that I'm aware of. Where is my wife?" He asked, glancing outside of his small window to the blistering storm outside. There was no way she would be anywhere except her chambers—not after he caught her soothing Brandon to sleep. The sight had melted his heart immediately, glad to see his wife finally finding it in her to go see him, to give him a chance.

Though, he could not blame her, of course. He could still remember the day he brought the Stark babe home, and how he dreaded the meet throughout his months of journeying home to Winterfell.

Aelys had been on the forefront of his mind, even through the slimy politicking of King's Landing. The wait was only made ever longer by the fact that the party Cregan traveled North with had to wait until Brandon was old enough to travel, too. Moons went by painstakingly slow, and Cregan moved to load the carriage for the boy as soon as the Maester gave his word that Bran would not be suseptible to the outdoors during long durations on the road.

Cregan dismounted his grey mare, patting her on the neck in thanks before the stable boy guided her back to her designated place. With a tense sigh, he rolled his shoulders and opened the carriage door that held Brandon and his new wet nurse. Sara, his older sister, would join the family in a few short weeks while she continued her stay at the Blackwood's. He wished she was here to console his wife in the coming days. Gods know that he cannot, not when the news of his betrayal had to come from his own mouth. As he promised himself it should be. The sinner should say his own penance, no one else. A Stark is a slave to his oaths.

Thanking Greya kindly, Cregan picked up Bran in his arms. His onyx black curls shifted against the crook of his arm as he shifted the babe to be held better. The four moon-old babe fussed as he was removed from the woman's comforting hold. As if was, Cregan was more of a stranger to the young babe than his wet nurse was. Unfortunately, the Lord had not spent the amount of time with him as he knew he should have. The thoughts and guilt racked up in his mind and burned at the back of his throat every day, leaving Cregan to promise himself that in Winterfell he would spend more time with him.

Another promise for the list.

Cregan stepped through the courtyard's archway, holding his breath as he watched his beautiful wife standing by the Keep's doors, shivering but still insisting that she come out to meet her husband. Her smile was as lovely and bright as he remembered, a much more contented and relieved smile than she had sent him off to battle with. That day, she could hardly stifle her tears back as she hugged him 'goodbye'. He felt quite the same. Cregan would never leave for Southern business again, not in his lifetime. Once had been enough to last generations, though he was sure the Stark family would not go too long before being summoned again.

Her face shifted from joy to confusion in a matter of seconds. As Cregan continued straight towards her, Bran bundled up in so many wools and pelts that it entirely engulfed the babe. She lifted her skirts to step down to meet him. Originally, Cregan had wished to scoop her up in his arms and place a sweet kiss on her cold lips, but the bundle between them prevented such things. He could not greet her so sweetly and then present the bastard to her. Ripping the bandage off a fresh wound, Cregan would not be deceitful for longer than he had been during his moons of silence in the South.

"Husband," She smiled, reaching out to touch his chilled face, pink in the cheeks and ears from exposure. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." She was antsy on her feet, eager to get inside to proper reunite with her husband, no bystanders gawking.

Speaking of bystanders—Cregan's entire party had separated and dispersed around the courtyard. They met their own wives, parents, or children as they laughed and conversed. Though, the loud and joyous clamor soon died down when whispers had been spread around by those who already knew of Cregan's boy. Wives that knew Aelys well stared in pity, clutching their shawls to their chests and shaking their heads quietly at their Lord.

He fought the urge to hang his head.

She had not yet seen the babe, only the cloth surrounding him.

"Cregan?" She whispered, tilting her head with concerned eyes. "What is wrong?" His sweet, sweet wife. Her first priority had been him over anything since the days of their honeymoon—the days she had confessed to be extremely anxious about during their courtship. She was a Northern woman herself, hardened and shaped like an ice sculpture but retaining her warm heart and spirit. Cregan had intimidated her greatly, according to her giggling confession, and she had feared he may be a cruel and selfish man since he could easily do as he wished to his Lady wife. He proved her wrong, apparently, getting to know his wife throughout their private honeymoon. They had a bond like no other, always at each other's side and filling in for the weaknesses of the other during their duties as leaders.

Cregan's brow furrowed deep, blinking away as he felt his nose start to sting.

Only then, when his glossy eyes met hers silently, did she glance down to the cloths. Slowly reaching up a shaky, gloved hand adjusted the pelts so she could peer past them. Gasping at the pale babe, Aelys' eyes sharply met his. A million thoughts raced through her head, clearly showing in her facial expressions. Not assuming the worst, as she probably should have done, Aelys asked, "has one of your men died? Is this babe an orphan?" Always so trusting of her Lord husband, something Cregan had admired and was eternally grateful for throughout their marriage.

"Aelys..." He cleared his throat when his voice came out much too quiet and hoarse. "This is my son." He declared to her, and to the onlooking crowd who did not bother hiding scandalized gasps.

Her eyes blinked in rapid succession, shaking her head lightly and smiling. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son."

His silence met her words. When he did not cave and admit to messing with his wife, Aelys shook her head more firmly. "No." She said, whispering. Her eyes clamped shut as she breathed in and out deeply, only opening to glance down at the babe, scrutinizing its appearing and comparing every freckle to Cregan's. "Don't do this to me, please. You would never do this to me." Her words were nearly lost to the air.

"It was one time, I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan told her.

"On your name?" She harshly bit, stepping away from Cregan as if he had burned her. "Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods. Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—" She gasped out, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and clutching her stomach. A choking sob rippled through her, and Greya stepped forward to gingerly take Brandon from Cregan's grasp. His arms fell to his side, clenching as he stopped himself from holding his wife in comfort. She could find no solace in the man who hurt her so.

"I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too. Was it just not me you wanted a family with?" She asked, cranking her neck up to look at her shameful husband.

"Aelys, I did—I do!" He started, stepping forward to wipe a hot tear from her cheek.

Flinching away from his touch, she looked up at him with the same mistrust and solemn acceptance that he found in a dying prey's eyes. Suddenly, Aelys looked to become aware of the crowd. Glancing around self-consciously, she straightened herself upright like the people expected of a Lady Stark. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." She loudly adressed the weary party and their families, who awkwardly moved to shuffle inside the dining hall. With a final glance past Cregan's shoulder to the wet nurse, Aelys was gone.

Seeing the shared glances of horror between the two, Cregan cleared his throat. "Where is my wife, boys?"

Ernest swallowed harshly, not daring to look him in the eye. "She—she said that she 'ad business in Winter Town. That you approved of it, I swear!"

Ron nodded so quickly that his head of curls messed about and framed his face further. The snow still on their heads and shoulders had now melted in the warmth of the Great Keep, reminding Cregan of the harsh weather the guards had to bear all day. They were trained and honed for such conditions, Aelys was not.

"Yes, Lord Stark! We couldn't disobey our Lady's words." He insisted.

"You think I'd make my wife go settle business in Winter Town during a blizzard?" He growled out, standing from his seat and storming between them to his doorway, where he turned on them and saw them both flinch in shock. "Which way did she go?"

"Uhm..." they shared another glance. "She said Winter Town, Lord Stark. What other way would she have gone?"

Cursing, Cregan grabbed Ice and lifted the great sword to his shoulder. He left without another word to anybody, knowing every second counted when it came to finding her. "Bloody fools." He scoffed to himself, mind turning and thinking of places she might head to.

Clearly, not Winter Town. She had no business there, not that he knew of, and although they had not been speaking these past moons he still oversaw all of her duties as Lady. Though, her reports of dealings and responsibilities was done through the Maester rather than her own mouth. A middleman, the poor elder had become. Cregan endured the silence without complaint, knowing his own actions brought it upon him.

His actions brought her further away from him than he perhaps estimated. He knew the babe would tear a rift in their relationship, and knew it would take a long time before they could even begin to mend it—but he never wanted it to go this far.

Back to her childhood home, to the Glovers in the Motte? Or, perhaps she found a secret lover that would meet her in the storm like a destined and tragic fairytale. He would not blame her for seeking love in another, though his never faded.

His quickened pace was only interrupted by Sara. "What is the rush for, brother?" The elder woman asked, dark brows furrowed with concern. Other the past four moons she had gained her strength back, looking the picture of health now that she was back home and recovering. Cregan could barely meet her gaze, looking between her and the doors ahead.

"My wife is gone." He told her honestly, shifting impaitiently in place. "I don't know where to, but I'm going to search for her."

Sara's dark eyes saddened, face scrunching up in grief. "This is my fault. I should have—"

Cregan stopped her immediately, taking her firmly by the shoulders and dipping his neck down to level himself. "No. It is mine alone. I made the choice to do this, I shall face the consequences of my actions."

"Cregan..." she sniffed, but did not allow tears to fall so easily.

"I'll be back." He promised. "With my wife."

Was she running away?

Cregan swung open the Great Keep's door, blinking staggardly at the wind gust that slammed into him. Not bothing to close it behind him, Cregan stormed to the stables and tacked his horse up. In a matter of minutes he was off and out of Winterfell's expansive walls.

His only option was to head towards Glover territory. It was a two days ride normally, but the storm would make it double or perhaps longer. She would not be far ahead, not even two hours ahead of Cregan and unknowing of how close he might be on her trail.

There were not even hoofprints left in her wake. The snow immediately covered all tracks and left only pristine fields of white powdery frost.

He would not know where she was until he spotted her amongst the white. Cobalt, her black stallion, was sure to stand out within close enough distance.

Until he did see her, he could only wait.

And it was exactly that; a waiting game. Cregan took only three days to reach the Deepwood Motte, faster than he anticipated. He was weary and exhausted, but still pumping with adrenaline and awake off sheer will. Here, in the safe walls of Harriston Glover's keep, his mare could finally have more than a few measly hours of rest, as well as food and water.

His fingers and toes burned with the edges of frostbite. Even in his thick protective gear, he was not entirely safe. The few, small fires that he built for himself in the cold nights gave him only a semblance of warmth. Each step felt like five as his vision blurred and weaned in and out. He steadied himself on a pole, waiting for his father-in-law to come downstairs to greet him. And, if luck be on his side, his Lady wife.

He owed more than an apology.

Harriston was a stern man, though not unreasonable. He loved his children and ensured they had only the best; education, caretakers, spouses. His eldest two children married long before Aelys was even of age to be wed, both men marrying Northern girls that they'd grown up with. When it came to his youngest and only girl, the man knew Lord Stark would be a most auspicious match. The Houses had long been friends and allies, and keeping the tradition of partnership thriving through marriage was no strange thing. He'd been even happier when Aelys wrote to him weekly, describing how enchanted she had been with her new husband and thanking him profusely for giving her a blessed match.

Now, the greyed man stood in front of Cregan with a deepset frown and a fierce look in his eyes. "Lord Stark. I thought you'd be busy in Winterfell."

Cregan cleared his throat, focusing on him intently. It made sense that the man was cross with him, especially after he assumed that Aelys had sent him a few lengthy letters telling of Cregan's infidelity. "I came to see my wife, and to bring her back home."

Harriston huffed a sarcastic laugh. "You send her back home, only to come yourself first?" He gestured around with his arms up.

Cregan tensed, "first? Is Aelys not already here?"

Lord Glover matched in his seriousness. "Aelys wrote to me three days ago, informing me that you had sent her here to be away from danger."

"I did not send her anywhere."

"You mean you do not know where my daughter is?" He asked, voice low and firm as he stepped closer. Though Harriston was a fine swordsman and a battle-worn fighter, Cregan did not fear the Lord's wrath, for he could easily best him in combat.

He did, however, have the brains to fear a furious father's vengeance.

His heart nearly beat out of his chest. "And she stated that she was on her way here?"

"I think I know what she said, boy." Lord Glover hissed. "Where is Aelys?"

"She must still be out there," Cregan murmured breathlessly, turning on his heel and running out of the fort's doors and back out to the stables. Cobalt was in none of them, confirmed to him that Lord Glover was not simply lying and hiding his wife away from him.

Cregan decided to take another horse—one well rested and ready to travel in the packed snow, unlike his own weary mare. Guiding it to the doors where Lord Glover had exited and looked at Cregan with a fear unlike the learned man usually expressed, he asked: Where are the kennels?"

When Aelys left to brave the storm alone, she had not anticipated the sheer unforgivable nature of it. Living in the North her whole life, she'd long grown used to cold weather and hunting for herself. Hunts often lasted days or weeks, being times of comraderie and companionship when out in the wilderness with your people. She had not been hunting in years, much less alone.

The snow had slowed her travel significantly and clouded her navigational judgment. North became South, and East became West after so long of walking. With the skies so darkened, it was even harder to tell the time of day. With every stop she made and every fire that burnt out too quickly for her to be fully warm, Aelys had grown desperate.

She found shelter in a half-conscious act to preserve her on life. Now, curled up with only her fur-lined dress and the pelt she had brought from Winterfell, she could not help but begin to accept that she would die in this cave.

Aelys thought of her life in a few curt thoughts.

She had only lived twenty and two years. She grew up with loving parents and two elder brothers who doted on her greatly. She married Lord Stark of Winterfell, someone who took her heart quicker than she'd ever thought possible. She would die here, alone and cold because of him.

She thought of all the things she had wanted from life. Not much, for a Lord's daughter. Aelys had always wanted love and gave love in return. Trusted perhaps too much and did not gain from it. She wished for children, eventually, and could never have them now. She wished to see the warm deserts of Dorne and the lush gardens of Old Town in her retirement.

Aelys Bolton would not see anything but the North, nothing but the cold snow and frost-tippes trees around. They had grown familiar and warm.

Warm.

She was so warm, now.

Aelys closed her eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of better days.

"You do not wish to return home to a babe in the nursery?" Aelys asked, voice low and humming as Cregan lay beneath her on their shared bed. Most men did, misliking the process of pregnacy but loving the outcome, for it could only serve to benefit them.

"We will have plenty of time for babes when I come back to you." He replied, brushing his lips over her the crown of her head. "What kind of husband would I be if I left you to deal with the struggles of pregnancy and birth all alone?"

"I won't be alone. Sara is staying, too. I will have a sister to keep me company and complain all my grievances about my missing husband to her." She said amusedly.

Cregan paused in his rhythmic stoking of her spine. "Sara has asked to come, my heart."

She paused, too, lifting her head from his chest and squinting at him. "Sara can come down to King's Landing with you, but I cannot?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "She will be staying at the Blackwood's residence at Raventree Hall, not King's Landing. I would never endanger either of you by bringing you to the capitol. She has been offered guest housing by her friend, Alysanne Blackwood, during my time down there."

She huffed, conceding to his words and dropping her head back down, listening again to his ever-steady heartbeat. "Must be nice to see the Riverlands." She said lightly. "I hear they have fields of flowers growing year-round."

"And the permanent smell of fish and mildew." Cregan added with a snort. "You're not missing anything, I swear it to you. Sara and I will be gone for a short period of time. I intend to leave as soon as things are settled and put to rest."

Aelys hummed her quiet acknowledgment. There was no argument to be had, not when Cregan was set to leave in the morning. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." She said cheekily, though there was plenty truth to the statement. Alone, she would serve as political head to Winterfell and the temporary 'Warden' while Cregan was missing in action. She had her advisors, consisting of Cregan's trusted councilmen, but the hole that she knew would sink itself into her heart already wore her into her.

Cregan laughed at her words, nodding. "Aye, my love, you will do perfectly. I'm sorry to leave you alone for so long, but I have no doubt you'll do great." He said proudly, kissing her nose. She scrunched it up at the ticklish feeling, allowing a girlish giggle to leave her throat.

"Don't be gone too long, husband. Your wife needs you here." She said, tilting her head up to meet his lips.

"I would never dream of it."

The moons passed by with no reprieve for Aelys. As Winterfell's sole head, her days were busy from dawn til dusk. Letters were exchanged sporadically with her husband while he helped Aegon iii ascend to his place on the iron throne.

Until, one day, his letters ceased. It had already been a full year without Cregan Stark, and Aelys was beginning to grow used to the lack of her husband and sister by her side. Routine had grown to be instinct for her, breezing through her duties like she'd done them all her life. The only thing missing was her lover.

Concerned, Aelys checked in with the resident Maester to ensure Cregan's wellbeing.

When he paused, lips pursed and hands clutching at his cane with a stress unlike the calm elder, he rasped out his own fears. "I, too, have received no word from Lord Stark. Though, no news has come of us death in the capitol, so he must simply be occupied."

Occupied at the end of the war? When Aegon had already been named King and all the men put to trial were either declared guilty or innocent? The brunt of the work was over and done with—told by Cregan himself.

So why was he silent for an entire moon?

It was another fortnite before the Stark wrote back to her. The letter was curt and brief.

My dearest Aelys,

Forgive my abrupt silence these past weeks. Please know that you have been on my mind throughout this entire time.

Sara has grown sick in Raventree Hall, and has not been able to travel with the host of men I have sent back home to the North. We will stay behind for another few moons while she is in recovery. I will return to you soon.

With love,

Cregan Stark.

It was shorter than his other letters by many paragraphs, pages even. Cregan left out no details when describing his miserable times in the capitol. Aelys found herself much enjoying his theatrical melodramatic retelling and was rendered bemused by this letter. Still, she continued to lead with no pause for breaks.

Three more moons later, and Cregan wrote that he was mere days away from Winterfell. Without Sara Snow, unfortunately, as she was still not entirely recovered, but his party could be postponed no longer.

Aelys rushed around Winterfell's Keep in a flurry of excitement. She ordered every room to be cleaned spotless, for rations to be saved for days until a feast could be made for their arrival, for hearths to be extra tended to, and for the courtyard to be prepared to clear the way for the host.

Finally, the days of busy bodies floating around the Great Keep came to a stop. The feast was warm and ready at all available tables. The hearths were warm and ready for sleepy heads to rest within the rooms. The tubs were filled with scalding hot water that would warm by the time they were used. Lady Stark stood for hours at the Great Keep's entry stairs in the courtyard.

She wanted to be there exactly when he walked through the archway. Despite the cold biting at her nose, the Lady stood resiliant and tall.

It was nearly in the afternoon when Cregan's party arrived. He came through first, leading as head of the host as any Lord should. A wheelhouse followed, surrounded by a small league of soliders all around it. She bounced on her heels slightly, seeing Cregan dismount from his ride. Though she found herself bemused and slightly hurt when he glanced at her and made his way towards the wheelhouse instead. Had Sara recovered enough to join and perhaps wanted to surprise her good sister? She hoped so, for she had missed her greatly. After growing up with only brothers, Aelys found a best friend and sister in Sara Snow. The whispers about Lady Stark befriending the bastard of Winterfell followed her around like a dark shadow, but she never paid them any mind.

Bastardry had never bothered Aelys before. Not even when she was a woman of noble birth and was taught that bastards were born inherently lustful, evil, and made of sin.

She waited patiently at the top of the steps for Cregan to fetch Sara.

To her surprise, he only pulled out of the carriage with a bundle of clothes in his arms. Pelts and blankets, it seemed. A plainly-dressed woman from the South stepped out after him but stayed trailing behind. A maid of some sort, though she had no clue as to why a Southern maid would need to follow Cregan back to Winterfell.

As he strided towards her, a strange and unhappy look on his face, she forced her anxiety back down her throat and raced to meet him. "Husband," she greeted with a smile. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." Reaching out to caress his face and simultaneously brush flecks of snow from his loose hair, she couldn't help but stop to admire her husband's handsome features. It had felt like an eternity that they were separated, and she had begun to forget the full details of his frame. Forgot his scent in the room and his side of the bed. Nearly forgot the warmth that he provided simply from standing nearby.

The very warmth he is giving to her now, in the chilly courtyard.

His eyes appeared to gloss, his nose and cheeks pinking even more so than they had already grown in the biting air. Glancing over Cregan, she assessed quickly for signs of fatigue or illness.

"Cregan?" she asked gently. "What is wrong?" She prayed he did not catch whatever Sara had caught, or hid a wound under his mass of leathers and pelts.

When he shiftly lifted the bundle in his arms to gesture for her to look at it, she finally spared a look to the mysterious ball of cloth. She had completely forgotten about it until now, noticing the maid still behind Cregan a few yards back, head tilted down and looking at her slippers. Peeking over a fur pelt, Aelys gasped at the sight. A babe, only a few moons old by the looks of it. Her mind raced with possibilities. Why would Cregan bring a babe back instead of leaving it in more temperate climates like the Riverlands that he stayed in on the way up North?

"Has one of your men died?" She asked in a hushed tone, assuming first that one of his soldiers perhaps fathered a bastard babe before perishing in a battle or falling to sickness. "Is the babe an orphan?" Cregan did always have a soft spot for younglings, showcased clearly by his time spent personally training young squires of Winterfell. He had lost his own younger brother in their youth, and the hole had never filled from that loss of kin.

"Aelys..." he started, meeting her eyes with a soft and sympathetic look. "This is my son." Was said loud and clear for any listeners to hear.

A jest. Cregan had seldom liked to be humorous in front of crowds, or anyone but herself and Sara, but he must have been in good spirits today. Briefly glancing at the surrounding people, she found only pitiful looks from the women and severe looks from the men. Shaking her head, Aelys forced a smile onto her face and a shaky laugh. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son." She emphasized.

He only stared at her back. No words of comfort, no sudden burst of laughter among his men to tell her that the biggest prank in the world had been pulled on her. Just shameless silence.

He had declared her second best in front of all of Winterfell. Her people and his.

"No." She said firmly, shaking her head 'no'. She breathed in and out deeply, trying to clear her blurry eyes and woozy head. Glaring down at the false babe in his arms, she found many similarities that she wished she had not. The same straight brows that Cregan had, the same scattered freckles, the same pale skin. The only difference was the hair color—black as a midnight sky or dragonglass. The mother must be beautiful.

Moving her eyes to the maid behind Cregan, she found that the girl had a mousy blonde color to her tresses. She could not have possibly bore a black-haired babe. She felt sick, like she'd throw up and choke at the same time. "Don't do this to me. You'd never do this to me." She pleaded out, voice small and hoarse.

"It was one time. I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan promised. But every word was like poison, filling her heart with a heavy black liquid and drowning her from the inside out.

"On your name?" She hissed out, uncaring of the onlookers for this one moment. She was allowed to be angry, callous, and spiteful, even. Any self-respecting woman would be. And she'd be damned if she wasn't. Any Stark woman ought to be when ruling over the entire North. Any Glover woman is.

"Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods! Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—?" Words spilled from her mouth before she can think properly. But she did not regret any of them, knowing she was in the right. Bile rose in her throat, pushing itself past the forced down emotions. She swiftly covered her mouth, stilling herself to prevent any more embarrassing. Subconsciously, she clutched at her empty stomach with her free hand, both mourning the fact that she'd have no children and thanking the Gods for not giving her any previously. A cry finally escaped her lips, watching the plain maid take the babe into her arms again as Cregan looked on helplessly to his wife.

Aelys found her voice again, though it was ragged and tired. "I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too." He was a liar, the worst kind of man. "Was it just not me you wanted a family with?"

She'd rather be struck with his hand than his deceitful mouth. It would hurt much less.

"I did, Aelys—I do!" He pleaded, stepping forward to console her. His arms looked like steel traps in her louded mind.

She took a lengthy step back. She would not share his warmth, nor his love. Or his bed, his room, his damned dining room. His children. Not when he had shared it with another woman. Given her his love, his attention, his son.

She could not bear to keep herself calm any longer. Adressing the entire courtyard, who had made themselves the Stark's own personal peanut gallery, she spoke firmly. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." Without a second glance back at the Stark, Aelys excused herself to her chambers, where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the chamberpot until she could only dry-heave nothingness. These chambers had not been used since she arrived in Winterfell, instead choosing to sleep and stay in their marital ones. She would not step foot into those again unless she was dragged kicking and screaming.

Aelys awoke to strong arms lifting her from the stone floor. Groggily, she was stirred from her deep and preserving sleep. How long had she been traveling? How long had she been buried under those pelts? Time was a blur when she was in a near comatose state, dead to the world. Limbs were numbed and her body felt warm after so long in the cold weather.

"I've got you, sweet girl. We're going home." A familiar voice rung in the back of her head. Even the jolting movements of a horse trotting could not fully move her to consciousness as she fell back asleep.

When she fully gained her sense of mind, she could clearly hear the sound of two men arguing. The warmth of a hearth was next to her as she lifted heavy blankets and furs off of her body. Glancing around, Aelys found herself back right where it all started. In Cregan's room, formerly their marital chambers that she had long since moved out of. A large oil painting sat over the heart, depicting a newlywed image of her and Cregan. They both smiled brightly in the photo, much to Cregan's complaint that the painting did not make him look 'serious enough'. She only laughed and tipped the painter extra gold dragons for the accuracy.

She loved that painting more than any others they kept in the Great Keep. Now, the two faces looking down at her only served to remind her of the falsehood she lived every day while Cregan was absent. Taking care of Winterfell and the North all by herself, just to come back and be thanked by his uncouth mistakes.

Shakily standing up, she winced at the feeling coming back to her limbs. Wriggling all twenty of her toes and fingers, she ensured they still all had feeling. Miraculously, she did. The numbess still felt vaguely there, and her throat was extremely dry and achy. But at least she was alive. Even if it was back in Winterfell, she could attempt her return to the Motte as soon as the storm died down.

It had been a dreadful blizzard. Not a rare sight in the North, but usually none lasted so long. Aelys could not help but feel it was the Gods punish Cregan and Aelys for their marital spat. Something like this must be so futile and useless in their eyes and the eyes of the people of the realm, but to Aelys it was her world and her life. No one could help Aelys but herself. She'd leave these spoiled halls even if the Old Gods and the New wished otherwise. If Cregan didn't have to keep oaths, why should she?

Opening the large wooden door, Aelys found the source of the faint yelling. Her eyes widened at the sight of her father in front of Cregan, in all his gruff charm with his silver hair and beard. She hadn't seen him in nearly two years. She stayed at the archway under the door, simply listening in as the men shouted further down the hall. If either turned their heads, they would spot her eavesdropping.

"—cannot even keep her safe during Winter! Am I to expect her to stay safe during a wildling attack, or worse? Or will you be prioritizing the safety of your mistress?" Harriston shouted, veins nearly popping out from his forehead and neck in his fury. Snow still gathered on his pelt coat, meaning he had just arrived recently.

"It is my mistake that she was endangered out there—but I would never let such a thing happen again under my protection. This is her home, I cannot allow her to go back to the Dreadfort. She is a Stark." Cregan emphasized, though had a defensive raised tone.

"Was she a Stark when you bed a whore in King's Landing?"

"The situation is more complicated than that." He responded, clenching his jaw.

"Nothing could ever be more complicated than losing your wit at a brothel, Stark. There is no argument to be had. She is staying with her family, where she was intending." Harriston growled out, a tone of finality to his tone. As he swung on his feet to head down the hall, face set in a worried and seething anger, he finally spotted his daughter.

"Aelys!" He yelled in relief, rushing toward her and scooping her up into his thick arms. "We're going home immediately. We will wash our hands of the Starks once and for all."

"I will not allow that." Cregan spoke from behind. As Aelys hugged her father back just as tightly, it was a battle to keep her tears from flowing in his safe arms. She missed her father more than she knew.

Before Harristone could speak, Aelys nodded. "We will settle this." She said flatly. Her father hesitantly let her go, nodding once firmly after seeing the resolve in his daughter's eyes.

"Very well. I will wait in the dining hall for you." He sighed, walking away.

Aelys shivered in the loss of warmth again. In her bare feet and night gown, she felt the cold of the cobblestone walls and floors start to seep under her skin again. "Here," Cregan murmured, gently shifting his mass of brown wolf pelt over her shoulders and clicking the direwolf emblem into place.

She allowed it, though she did not thank him with words. She took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes. "I want to separate. Divorce, I mean." She said tiredly.

Cregan flinched, jaw ticking and heavily considering her words. "That is entirely my fault. It is in your right to ask that of me." He said, voice dimmed and not nearly half of his assuredness. "But please, hear me out."

"What could I possibly hear you out with?" She asked, exhaustion clear in her tone. She'd dealt with this situation long enough.

Cregan nudged the door back open, nodding for her to enter. Reluctantly, she led the way in and watched as he gently shut it behind them. "I swore an oath, nearly nine moons ago." Cregan started.

Her brows furrowed, bemused. "To whom?"

Guiltily, he looked down at her, looking much alike to a kicked pup. "My sister."

"To Sara? What ever for?" She grew frustrated, knowing he was beating around the bush.

Taking a deep breath, he told her everything. "Sara stayed with her friend Alysanne Blackwood in Raventree hall for the entire time I was aiding King Aegon. In that time—she fell pregnant."

Aelys' heart dropped to her stomach. The same sick feeling overtaking her. She did not say a word.

"Davos Blackwood and Sara had built a bond, much like we did." He said. "When she told Davos of the news, they both went to Lord Blackwood to plea to marry each other. He refused, not allowing his heir to marry a bastard."

"And you legitimized Brandon as your own in turn?" She hissed.

"Sara begged me to. She lived her life as a bastard—she did not wish the same for her own son. I swore to her that my nephew would never be allowed the same treatment. I knew Aegon would do it." He trailed.

"So you bring him home, and humiliate me instead? You didn't even tell me, your own wife! You chose Sara over me. She is your sister, I know, but she chose to be with Davos Blackwood." She could have taken a tea, or moved to Essos or Dorne where bastards were more accepted. There were other options, but neither Sara nor Cregan used them. "That is cruel, Cregan. It is heartless." She cried.

"I never wished to hurt you, I only wanted to protect her. It was my oath." Cregan pleaded, grabbing her hands in his.

She shivered again, though unknowing if it was in chill or her own anger. Part of her was happy that he never truly took another woman to bed—never picked another other her. Though he still hid the biggest secret in the world from her for moons. Allowed her to suffer in their shared home and withstand the pitious looks of the people and court.

"I can't trust you. Not ever again. You could not trust me with your own kin's truth, and punished me for it." She stated. She could not allow herself to cave in so easily, to fall back into his arms.

"I understand, sweet girl." He muttered, softly stroking the apple of her cheek almost mindlessly. "I will sign whatever the Maester's conjure up. You will be free to marry whoever you wish—someone who will not lie to you."

The Starks were known for their loyalty and devotedness to their oaths. If Cregan Stark had lied to his wife so easily, no lesser man could ever make her happy with faithfulness and loyalty. Aelys had accepted her life to be one of loneliness from the day Brandon was allowed into the home.

"I will stay in Deepwood Motte for the time being. From there, I will see where my path leads." She said vaguely, unknowing now of what her heart desired. "Wish Sara well for me." Aelys asked of him, leaving him behind as she wiped any straying tears from her face.

"I love you, Aelys." He said, calling softly after her.

"I know." She whispered to herself.

In the dining hall, Harriston awaited her arrival. Perking up when she entered, he knowingly took her into his arms. "I'm tired, father."

"Let's go home. Your mother has missed you dearly." He said, planting a fatherly kiss to her temple.

Aelys would not yet send word for a formal separation to the Citadel or to the King. For now, time apart was what she declared best for herself.

divider by - @issysh3ll

tags - @palomavz @emithefrog @karinalight @johnshelbywife @tojisrealwifey @baddielizzy @pearldaisy @brookiecookie @jessicar401 @hardkiddonut @littlelilly27-blog @nayaniasworld @just-mj-or-not @flaneurpastel @unsweetenedpeatea @blucesita09 @maxmegara @deeeeexx @masschotch @janniepark1997 @spongelistener @margaaaa30 @paracii @lovebabe18 @rey26 @damneddamsy @yunnifer @kenzcarson @glqmmywhqmmy @arizonadesert @blumin8 @its-your-girl-savy @dreamygirli3 @aemondloverr @zaranobiyuyu @nsr-15 @oxymakestheworldgoround @isansstuff @high-speed-r

so many tags dont work 🥲 will try to tell in comment sec

ending is ambiguous. Will she decide to divorce or eventually mend their relationship? Up to you!

might make an alt ending where he really is just a shitty guy but this had been my idea from the start (many guessed it and i could not reply to them because of it lmao)

sorry if those two scenes got repetitive, but I wanted to show the 'cregan bringing brandon home' from both of their more detailed perspectives. Cregan's shame and guilt and her humiliation and heartbreak.

so many people guessed so close (to the sara part at least) only saw Jace thoughts tho, but he's already dead long before Cregan's walk down to the South. Would have been much more dramatic, but I think Jace would never allow a child of his to be apart from him. Many people swayed me to lead them to separate instead of stick together, and it does make more sense to have her leave him in the end. Although he did not cheat he still lied and publicly humiliated her, even unintentionally, but he's a grown man who is smart enough to know consequences.

[hayquetenerpatience]

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