#gods fucking bless the comic for giving him grey hair i have thought of little else for days now

[bitten-button]

Sniper!!! Beloved piss man <3

Small collection of Sniper screenshots below cut

Valve, show me this mans dick please

[mikenewtonhateblog]

My oc’s aka too long of a gd post

The “BL” Crew (does not stand for boys love I’m just a moron who made that abbreviation before knowing what it stands for). My main crew and main series, a lot is a big WIP right now as I’m slowly redoing the first book and all the lore. Why? I love torture. Book is fantasy type but I won’t specify what.

Lacie, the protagonist. God tier idiot, bisexual bipolar depressed MESS, insomniac, former theater kid, doesn’t know what she wants out of life but currently it is not This(plot of book). Hot headed, impulsive, crude, rude, Mommy IssuesTM, would rather be taking a nap right now, rules are made to be broken, absolutely fucking FERAL, more bags under her eyes than the airport lost and found. 5’5, 130lbs, Aries, age 18, white as shit like literally the whitest human you have ever seen, strawberry blonde hair in a 2011 Hayley Willaims haircut with long bangs, the darkest brown eyes you’ve ever seen that stare directly into your soul. Lanky, no curves, body of a 12 year old boy but works out so she can and will kick your ass and thats a threat. Not human?

Josh. Soft boy, smart, Lacie’s cousin and only friend for like the first 18 years of her life, autistic anxious mess who’s special interest is anchient egyptian history, is in honors classes, despises math, passes out when his girlfriend looks too cute, just needs a hug. Can eat a whole carton of easy mac if left alone, whole wardobe is the same outfit just different colors/hoodies, sensory issues, seriously can someone give this guy a hug. 5’9, 150lbs, Pisces, age 18, mixed (half whatever flavor of white Lacie’s family is [they don’t even know its just some scandanavian shit and irish], and half mexican on his mom’s side), medium olive skin with freckles and moles, dark chocolate brown hair that’s a bit of a 2009 Beiber cut, warm brown eyes, not beefy, a lil thicc and self concious about it but squishy boys are GOOD. Gets bit by a werewolf so now he is one his mood on it is “thats a lot to unpack but let’s just throw the whole suitcase away”.

Zander. There is not one braincell in this man, himbo KING, pansexual dumbass with undiagnosed ADHD, no impulse control, head empty and full at the same time, PTSD, his fashion sense should be an actual crime, gets in fights to feel something, basic requirements for him to be attracted to you: kick his ass. Drinks his respect women juice, sees a folding table and must immediately launch himself on it, chaotic, cannot drive a car and will not, food aggression and eats enough for 3 people but never gains weight which is ILLEGAL, him and Lacie may be a couple.....but in this house we stan slow burn, he talks in caps and every sentence either ends with a question mark or exclaimation point, likes romcoms. 6’2, 190lbs, Sagittarius, age 19, austrailian roots and has the accent but is from [REDACTED FOR STORY REASONS], white, dorito shaped with long legs, blueish black hair that’s long and messy, dark navy eyes that match his hair, bigass neck scar from [REDACTED]. Not human

Peter. Gay dad friend who is TIRED of having to be in charge of a bunch of teenagers, only one with full functioning braincells, lowkey a genius who loves engineering, mixes magical technology with human technology because he likes to play god, is he ever sober? No one knows, will kill for a bottle of single malt, his fashion sense? Tastefully expensive suits perfectly tailored. Likes building his own weapons that no one else knows how to even use, generally non-threatening but can get scary if needed. 6’4, 140lbs string bean man, Scorpio, age 179 but looks early 30s, I know I said Lacie is the whitest human but he’s even paler like a literal sheet of paper with scandanavian roots/ancestors were vikings or some shit, blonde hair styled like 2013 Brendon Urie lmfao, light crystal blue eyes. He’s a vampire and was born one.

Danielle. Tiny, sweet, queen of girls supporting girls, comments on all her friends instagram posts with 20 emojis, LOVES fashion and has a wardrobe that would make anyone jealous, oozes feminine energy, only child and parents are in love still, gets exactly 8 hours of sleep each night and wakes up looking like a disney princess. Just because she is small and cute doesn’t mean you should underestimate her she WILL fuck your shit up. Quiet when angey which is terrifying. Josh is her bf and she loves him so much but also loves teashing the shit out of him. Legally cannot cuss, polite, used her high heels as a weapon once, speaks like 5 languages because studying them is her hobby, gardens, hugs everyone. 5’0, 110, Taurus, age 18, mixed (half french-american, half Korean-american), glowy skin always, PETITE frame aka the friend everyone can pick up when they hug, long past her waist curly brown hair, bright green eyes. She’s not fully human as she has fae blood in her and this gives her the ability to talk to and control plants. Flower crowns for everyone

Becca. Theater kid who would die to sing in Wicked and has the vocal range to do so, cannot wait to graduate and go to her dream college which she got into and a scholarship, closeted lesbian bc her whole giant family is extremely catholic and she feels like not dealing with it, “no boys allowed in bedroom” rule is her favorite joke, chill, middle child of 5 siblings and just wants some peace and quiet for ONCE. Her fashion sense is “I’m dropping subtle hints I’m gay but only to other gays”, has a black belt and took self defense classes. 5’6, 145lbs, Virgo, age 18, Latina (cuban and mexican mix), darker brown skin with light freckles over her nose, athletic build, eyebrows on POINT, bright caramel eyes, short light brown hair cut in a bob, has a tiny nose stud, always wears a blue friendship bracelet her gf made her. Human

Anika. Calling her a bitch/slut is a compliment, bisexual, a bit of a mean girl but she grows out of it give her time!!! Is always Too Much, the horny friend, favorite color is red so thats almost all of her outfits, loves to show off her body as much as she can because she’s hot and knows it and thrives in her own confidence. Her mom is literally like Regina George’s mom from Mean Girls but married a rich man 20 years older than her, Anika doesn’t know her bio dad but thats fine neither does her mom and her step dad is nice and does his best to be a dad. Becca’s gf, always hanging out at her home so Becca can get some quiet because Anika’s an only child and has a pool. 5’9, 135lbs, Gemini, age 18, white, long layered dark reddish brown hair, teal-blue eyes, swimmers body type (I normally do not mention bust size but she would want the internet to know she was blessed with big bahoogles so there you go), can sprint in heels. Half mermaid (boy was that a surprise considering her mom doesn’t know who her father is LOL)

Rex. Nb uses they/them he/him pronouns but honestly will respond to any, goth lite, only attracted to men and ace, can read minds so knows all your secrets, mischevious little shit, great friends with Zander and enjoys his dumbass thoughts and that he’s basically a human version of Jackass, wears too many rings, goth boots for kicking and fashion babey, always has the freshest memes and will not hesitate to roast in the group chat, hangs with the girls most of the time. Chaos god who loves making art, be gay do crime, skateboard and spraypaint. 5’8”, 165lbs, Leo, age 18, Native American, masculine frame, dark brown skin, blue eyes, firetruck red shoulder length hair that’s usually in a ponytail, knock-off gucci sunglasses just for judging their friends. Has magic in their blood so not entirely human and can cast spells and shit (don’t roast me its a wip and I’m doing my research)

Sam. Boho goddess, aromantic, makeup and nails are always instagram worthy, quiet and stoic type but losens up around close friends, Rex is her best friend, has some trauma and doesn’t want to talk about it, emotionally numbed out a bit and wants to purely vibe. Has seen some of the worst parts of humanity and wishes she hadn’t, finds no point in being bitter or resentful though because that won’t change anything, loves cats and once she moves out shes adopting one or three. Has wine aunt energy. 5’4, 200lbs PLUS SIZE QUEEN, Scorpio, age 18, Filipino (her parents are immigrants fun fact!), really olive skin sometimes has a grey/green tinge to it, dark brown almost black shoulder length hair, gold-hazel eyes. Sam’s the victim of a family curse that requires her to consume human hearts to survive, she can transform into a pretty scary looking being and uses this curse to hunt down pedoph*les, r*pists, murderers, and abusers. The less often she feeds the less human she looks, hence the constant grey/green tinge to her skin. 

Andy. Baby of the group, must be protected at all costs, 100% didn’t sign up to be in a friendgroup of 90% monsters but highkey loves it, trans, bi, anxiety MAXED, just wants to draw comics and cosplay spiderman, has to babysit his two younger sisters a lot because his parents are....not great, and as a result now knows all the lines to Tangled and The Little Mermaid. Big nerd energy, has to draw on everything including homework, gets inspiration for comics from his friends, awkward and socially anxious, drinks way too much tea and will accidentally steal your pens. Fears include: crowds, thunder, tall angry men, tiny spaces. Just trying his best. 5’2, 100lbs BEANPOLE BOY, Leo, age 16, white (irish and scottish roots), freckles absolutely EVERYWHERE, orangey red hair thats in desperate need of a haircut, chocolate brown eyes, braces, chronic nail biter. Human and kinda wishes he wasn’t.

That’s it for now if you read all this bless u thank u here is my whole heart. Please no discourse, literally these are fictional people I’ll never publish the books they go to.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

                                         FLORIAN THE FOOL

                                                             ao3

Time flies and it does not wait for anyone. But theirs are years well-lives, so Gendry supposes it's all right, in the end // Gendry gets to watch his Arya grow old with him. It feels like a blessing.

gendry’s pov of the white fawn

Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now

It's brighter now

I once believed love would be burnin' red

But it's golden

Like daylight

- Daylight, Taylor Swift

***

Sometimes, when it’s raining outside and the kids are deep asleep, curled on top of one another like a litter of pups, Gendry takes Arya’s hand and they dance slowly in the middle of the room, swaddled in darkness. Nothing fancy – mostly, they just sway side-to-side, her cheek leaning on his chest and his chin resting on the top of her head.

It’s very quiet between them.

This always reminds him of kneeling on the cold, soft mud in front her, underneath Raventree, when they were told to ask gods to bless their marriage. He did not believe in gods then and he does not believe in them now; Old or New or Red, they don’t seem to listen to mortals’ wishes at all. But despite that, he bowed his head dutifully and, against everything, did ask for one thing and one thing only-

Let me love this woman right, please. Just let me love her like she is supposed to be loved.

It is a prayer, but it’s also more than that; it is a promise.

Arya, with her hair chopped short and desperate eyes, trying to convince him she is a boy.

Arya, bow in her hands, swift and nimble on her feet, running through the woods like a fawn.

Arya in yellow silks and with flowers on her head, so young and so fucking gorgeous it hurt. Arya, saying she is his, claiming him as hers.

Arya hovering above him, her eyes shining in the dark.

Arya on her back, face all red, hair stuck to her forehead and crying in pain, her hand clasping his so hard that bruises form on his fingers.

Arya, ankle-deep in cold, cold river, holding Ben under his armpits and lowering him into the water and raising him up over and over again as he wiggles in her grip, giggling.

Let me love her like she deserves to be loved.

*

Jory only falls asleep if someone sings to him and it takes them way too much time to figure it out, probably because none of them have any fucking idea what they’re even doing and so the thought of ever trying lullabies have somehow never occurred to either.

But one yet another sleepless night, Arya, more tired than sane really, lays their screaming, screeching baby on the bed between them and begins to rub comforting circles on his belly with her eyes closed as she opens her mouth.

Six maids in a pool

They're of noble blood

One Fool, but great, on the shore

He'd seen that flower full of love

"She'll be in my garden" - he'd sworn

And then there is a sudden silence, blissful silence except for Arya’s low, rough voice and the sound of crickets outside as Jory’s eyelids flutter and shut. Soon enough, he’s deep asleep, clutching Gendry’s index finger with one of his tiny fists.

They stay frozen, afraid to move, to even breathe, in case the baby will wake up, but it does not happen and Gendry slowly tears his gaze away from Jory, so relieved and overjoyed, about to just pull Arya against his chest and kiss her senseless-

But Arya looks down, still like a lake, tears rolling down her cheeks one by one.

‘’Arry.’’ – he whispers hopeless, at loss of what to do. His heart beats so loudly in his chest that he’s sure she must hear it.

‘’It was- it was Sansa’s favorite.’’ – she lets out with a shaky breath, hunching over and hiding her face in her hands. – ‘’Florian The Fool and Jonquil.’’

Slowly, so, so slowly, Gendry grabs her wrists and lowers her hands down and cups her face, wiping tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. She’s so skinny, so sad lately, worn to the bone.  

‘’It’s just so hard now.’’ – she admits quietly.

He’s about to say I know, but bites on his tongue before those words escape from his mouth. No, he doesn’t. He does not know much really. He leaves on the first light and comes home late, and Arya stays, day and night, hissing in pain every time she nurses and lulling crying Jory in her arms for hours, over and over again. The girl who wanted adventure and thrill, stuck in one place like a caged bird.

Staring into Arya’s weary, gleam-less gray eyes, Gendry really, truly hates himself for the first time in his life.

He does not know how to make it better. So, instead, he does the only thing that comes into his mind; he kisses her forehead and tells her that she can go to sleep and he will watch Jory. This night and all the other nights. And he will learn all the songs under the sun, if that’s what their baby wants. Behold, Gendry The Fool.

This earns him a smile. Small and barely-there.. but it’s a beginning.

*

In the morning light, she is a statue carved out of marble.

Sitting on the threshold, barefoot and with her hair loose, she looks so fragile. Bird-boned. If she was a metal, she would require goldsmith’s nimble fingers to form, not brute strength of a blacksmith.

And yet, she hears his footsteps, she turns around to look at him and moves a little to the left to make place for him. And, when he sits down, she rests her head on his shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do and he wraps his arm around her-

And yet, despite all, they just fit. They work.  

She places his hand on her swollen belly so he could feel their babe kicking underneath his fingers, oh gods, he never wants to move from this threshold ever again. He tries to imagine sitting here with another woman, sharing his life with another woman and it just leaves a foul taste in his mouth.

He is hers. Simple as that.

*

Duncan is so small in Gendry’s hands, barely bigger than a loaf of bread and looking so delicate. Born a moon too early, he came out of Arya’s womb pale and unmoving and Gendry has never been more afraid in his life than in those few seconds stretched into infinity, looking into Arya’s wide wild eyes and waiting for their second son to take his first breath and start to cry. He’s fine now, maybe still a bit too light, but that’s okay – Gendry can keep him safe and warm in his arms as long as it takes for his to gain strength on his own, as long as he needs it. Even if it’s forever. It doesn’t matter.

Jory is so curious about his baby brother that it’s almost comical. He peaks at Duncan napping on Arya’s breast and then gently, very gently, pats his chubby cheek.

‘’Soft.’’ – he grins up at Arya and she laughs.

‘’Yeah, babies are like that. All soft and nice. Do you want to give him a kiss?’’

Jory seems to be thinking about it for a while, a tiny wrinkle appearing between his brows from concentration. It smoothes down when he leans to press a peck on Duncan’s dark head.

‘’Love him.’’ – he babbles with a toothy smile and Gendry can swear that there actual tears in Arya’s eyes, no matter that she would deny it.

*

‘’Wish I could give ‘em a name.’’ – he says quietly, watching as older boys snore in unison, both of them holding each of Ollie’s tiny fists.

Arya reaches out above their sleeping children and puts her little hand on his cheek. Her eyes are shining in the darkness like twin stars and yes, indeed, Gendry wishes for a name other than Waters more than he has ever wished for anything, but that’s not the only thing he desires. He wishes for a featherbed for Arya; for her to be less tired; for her hands to remain soft. He can’t give her comfort the same way he can’t offer any of the three sons he has with a noble-born woman anything more than a hut on the hill, a few goats and a small workshop in the Maidenpool.

‘’They have a father who loves them, a father who they can be proud of. That’s more important than any name could ever be.’’

Gendry thinks it’s very lady-like of her to say so. But, after all, she gave up her name for him, so maybe he could trust her on this matter.

*

Sometimes he dreams of Arya in Winterfell; Arya all highborn in Northern furs, a silver crown on her dark hair and cheeks painted pink from frost. He dreams of wolves surrounding her, howling for her in the woods, bowing their heads for her when she passes through the pack of them as if she was their queen.

Wolf dreams, she tells him shortly one time when he wakes up in the morning to find her sitting in the bed still deep asleep and biting on her lip hard enough that it bleeds, her hands all scratched by her own nails. He doesn’t ask for more explanation. It’s scary enough, to think what she might have become, how high she might have risen had she not she chosen him.

*

Beric arrives one evening, seated on a fine black mare that makes boys gasp in awe and nervously elbow each other until Jory asks very politely – let it never be said that Gendry raises his son as wildlings, thank you very much – if they can maybe, just maybe, feed her an apple. As horse happily munches, absolutely not paying any attention to three little creatures combing her tail and patting her sides, Arya hoists baby Ben on her hip and talks with Beric outside as Gendry goes to fetch cheese and milk.

On his way back, he stops on the threshold and grins involuntarily. Gods, his wife is just so fucking pretty, more beautiful with every passing year. No one would call her a dirty boyish urchin now, with her long dark locks cascading down her back and a blush on her sweet face. She sways delicately, side-to-side, as the child in her arms dozes off, his head resting on her shoulder.

Gendry very briefly wonders if he could possibly persuade her to have yet another babe. A daughter this time, a little Arya, gifted with her mother’s effortless grace and devious gleam in grey eyes. From their sons, Ollie is the only one brown-headed and also the only one alike to Arya in any physical regard; Jory and Duncan are both copies of him, taller than they should be at their age and growing out of every pair of shoes more rapidly than Gendry can supply them.

‘’Your brother would take you. All of you.’’

Beric’s voice is like a cold shower, briefly, just before it turns into a cold fury brewing in Gendry’s gut.

‘’Why would I ever take my sons to Winterfell?’’

‘’They could have a future there.’’

Gendry doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. If Lord Beric  All-Mighty Dondarrion wants to say that he cannot damn support for his own family, he can fucken say it to his face. But he remains inside the house, hidden in shadows and frozen in place. Listening.

Arya laughs, both softly and bitterly somehow.

‘’What kind of future? Bein’ treated as bastards, even though they’re not? Bein’ treated as baseborn and worse for that, even tho they don’t deserve it? ‘’

‘’Your brother has no heirs, he could use three healthy, strong boys. Do you want your ancestral seat in the hands of some other house? For Starks to die out?’’

Gendry’s fist clench. That’s a low blow and Beric bloody knows it, probably that’s why he does not look Arya in the eyes.

He never let it go. He rode with smallfolk, wined and dined and shat with them, but he never forgave himself for letting highborn girl under his care to be defiled by a bastard blacksmith, knight or not.

Nearly killed me when I refused to ride North with them, sulked through the wedding and acted all high and honorable, and now he tries to take a wife from her husband and children from their father.

‘’Rickon married Shireen Baratheon; if Bran will die childless, Rick’s second son will hold Winterfell. If not, Sansa’s child will. Heard she has a boy now.’’

‘’It’s your sons’ right.’’ Beric’s voice turns sharp. ‘’Hope you know what you’re depriving them of.’’

There is silence ringing in Gendry’s ears for a moment. He inhales, deeply, and is just about to move, to bash Lightning Lord’s skull in, when-

‘’Oh, I know full well.”

Ours is the fury. For the first time, he thinks Arya would make a fine Lady Baratheon; there is so much anger radiating from her that he half-expects for the sky to part and send down thunderbolts.

‘’I deprive them of ever watching their father killed in a godsdamned game of thrones. No one will chop Gendry’s head off for a secret. No one will betray me and slit my throat. ‘’ she states, her voice unwavering. - ‘’If I die on them, it will be in childbirth. If Gendry does, it will be from the plague. These are honest deaths, the ones that don’t scar. Don’t teach me how to love my own children, Beric, or how to take care of them. I gave them the freedom to be who they want to be. And if I will ever bear a daughter, she will be freer than I ever was.’’

Guilt, heavy like a stone, punches him in the gut.

All those years and I’m still underestimating you, love.

Beric gifts them their fine black mare when he leaves the next morning, against their protests. Gendry wants to sell her – it’s suspicious for people like them to have a horse like that – but boys plead and plead for hours and Arya glances at the mare fondly, and Gendry is reminded how she used to ride faster than wind, hair unbound and no saddle needed. Freedom incarnate.

His wife calls the horse Wintersong.

Alysanne is born nine moons later.

*

Against his stupid, silent wishes, their children grow up quicker than a blink. He longs for bare feet and joyous shrieks, for mud fights and hurts that could be healed by kisses. What he gets now is to see them all go their own way and seven hells, it hurts so much.

Benjen is the first one to go, stolen away at just nine by Lord fucking Dayne,  to squire for him and then to be knighted. And Gendry knows, somewhere in the more rational part of him, that this is a good thing, that Ben would be happy doing what he was so clearly made to do. Ned is an honorable man and he will take good care of the boy, and one day Ben will be a great knight. They would sing songs of him. Still, this knowledge does nothing to soothe his sorrows. Bloody Starfall is too far away to travel and, as he hugs Ben’s scrawny frame, the realization that it might be the last time he does that takes his breath away.

I will never see him practicing with wooden swords in the woods again. I won’t see as he grows up.

Is there ever a bitter moment for a father, he thinks, clutching Alysanne’s hand as she waves her brother goodbye.  – then when he gives his child away and they are not his anymore?

The first night after his son’s departure,  Arya weeps from dusk till dawn, clinging to him in desperation until exhaustion pulls her under.  Next morning she’s calm and collected again, moving on as if nothing happened, but this is the first time that Gendry looks at his wife and thinks she’s getting older.

Jory’s next; always the responsible one, he quietly and slowly explains to them one afternoon how he will finish his apprenticeship soon and would like to stay in Maidenpool and marry his carpentry master’s youngest daughter. Gendry knows the girl – pretty lass named Joy, fox-like and with hair kissed by the fire. He had no idea that Jory fancies her thou, although it is possible he might be the only one oblivious, as Arya doesn’t even try to look surprised.

(Stupid. – she tells him in the evening, shaking her head. – During the fair last year all he did was look at her, all moony, too afraid to ask her to dance. Didn’t you notice that?

Well. He didn’t.

Arya sighs heavily, resting her head on her hand and glancing at him from underneath her lashes.

Remind me why I married you?

He leans down, resting his forehead against hers. His hand sneaks underneath her skirts to rest on her bare tight and he watches as grin blooms on her face.

Don’t complain, m’lady.)

Duncan doesn’t ever really leave, which Gendry cherishes.  Even as a kid, Duncan loved coming over to forge the most, begged Gendry to teach him blacksmithing ever since he was maybe six. As a man grown, his second son is his mirror copy; his body made to hammer metal into obedience and temper it into strength. He’s good at that, very good in fact. Steel sang for Gendry for most of his life – and it sings for Duncan too, even more beautifully. Girls from the whole town come over to watch him work and even Gendry is not as blind as not to see that the boy enjoys their attention.

He would be lying if he said it does not worry him, the thoughts of his own father and bastards swimming in his head until one day Duncan sets the hammer down and turns to him, blushing like a maiden.

‘’Dad.’’

‘’Hmm?’’

‘’Well. There is this girl- we, I mean, she… you know…‘’

Ha. There is always a girl.

‘’Are you going to marry her?’’

Duncan’s ears turn red.

‘’Yes.’’

Gendry stays quiet for a moment, before deciding that it certain things just don’t matter as much as he used to think they do.

Slowly, he eases his scowl into a smile.

‘’Congratulations, then.’’

Olllie… Ollie is a burden too heavy to bear.

(Arya screamed for hours, howled like a wolf with the limp body of their son clutched to her chest. No words, just raw ache of a wounded animal, not letting anyone come near. Alys hid in the cupboard, curled in a little ball with her hands pressed to her ears and crying in terror until Jory carried her away, hushing Duncan and Ben out.

Spring fever has a smell, sweet and disgusting. It always comes too late, when there is nothing that can be done anymore, clinging to hair and skin for weeks. No one can wash it off. In a way, Arya was right – death from plague never really scars. The wound that it leaves simply doesn’t ever close.

Ollie was so small, gasping for breath. He still had all his milk teeth, he still loved for Gendry to toss him up in the air, he still would ask Arya to tell him stories every evening and kiss his forehead goodnight.

So small.)

Sometimes he wonders – if they lived in a castle, maybe a maester could heal him, maybe he still would be alive. He wonders if Arya wonders about it too, but decides to keep silent.

They don’t talk about Ollie, none of them.

Alys runs away two moons before her five and tenth name day, surprising no one. Gendry guesses he got his wish; she is her mother’s daughter, truly. He watches, sad and resigned, as his wife tries and fails to hide her quiet glee as she reads him the letter Alys left. He just hears some phrases, here and there: mummer’s troupe, tightrope, adventure, being an acrobat and a boy, there is always a fucking boy.

And just like that, there is two of them again.

*

When they were younger, they used to be more desperate for each other, more hungry. Gendry supposes it makes sense -  he was less sure of her then. Not in a way he doubted she loved him, he always knew she loved him, cared for him. It was more like he was living without ever exhaling, holding his breath and waiting until someone will take her away from him, because surely someone will?

Lady Arya, the Northern Princess on his lap, her eyes shut closed and mouth opened in pleasure, moaning his name and digging her nails in his shoulders.

It was just too good to be true.

He was so careful, not to get used to any of it. From his experience, Gods delight in taking things mortals take for granted. And his family already feels fragile enough; no matter how solid the walls are,  they built them on quicksand. Everything is perishable and he can never forget that. But the older he gets, more and more of this burning anxiety disappears from his bones, evaporating in the thin early-morning mist outside when he wakes up in her warm arms and she sleeps like breast milk and dreams.

He still memorizes as much as he can though. Just in case one day memories would be the only thing he has left.

The identical shade of blue of his sons’ eyes. Alys’ breathy laughter. And Arya, Arya, Arya.

Years made her sweeter, softer.  When they were freshly married, she used to order him around in bed, half-starved for his touch and half-ashamed for being so needy. They would go hard and fast, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips and her teeth leaving bite marks on his neck. He would be lying if he said he did not enjoy that, but now it’s even better. -now, when they make love, it’s slow and gentle, and everything they never thought they could be. She unravels underneath him, letting him pleasure her and worship her until she’s boneless and pliant, laughing breathlessly when his beard scratches her belly.  She used to be slim and skinny, his wolf maiden, taut like a bowstring about to break, with lean muscles dancing underneath her pale skin. Now, there are traces of their children all over her body. They are written in the silver threads in her hair and in a blue spider web of veins on her breasts and faint marks on her belly where it stretched to accommodate growing babies, each of them.

It makes him stupid every time, looking at all those. Stupid and drunk on a feeling he does not even know how to describe.

Time flies and he can never get enough of her, of how it feels to be buried in her, of her hair in between his fingers and her nose bumping his and the way she bites on her lips when she peaks. The taste of her, the sight of her, the sound of her – she drives him mad and he sometimes wonders if he was put on this Earth just for this one purpose, to love this woman until he dies.

Because Gendry loves his lady Arya, like a fool and with all of him. This one thing never changes, even when they grow older and softer and weaker, and their hearts beat slower than they used to. Even when she is no longer dark-haired and he is no longer strong like an ox.

He can no longer carry her through the door, but he can still hold her hand as they watch the sunrise together. And maybe she does not water dance anymore, but, when she brushes her lips against his knuckles, this wicked gleam still burns in her eyes.

He loves her. The best he can. And as it seems to be enough for her - well, he trusts her enough to find solace in that.

[artificialqueens]

Beneath the Amber Moon, Part 12 (Galactica AU Group Fic) – TheDane & Veronica

Heyyy!! Welcome to Part 12 of “Beneath the Amber Moon,” a group fic set in the Galactica Universe. Click here for previous chapters.

We hope you’re enjoying it! Let us know what you think!

Summary: The group deals with the fallout from their shit-tastic night at the club.

/////

“Fuck.” Detox turned in bed, the sheets feeling hot against his skin, and he could hear Juju chuckle next to him.

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of the morning walk you promised the kids just because you’re hungover.”

Detox groaned, opening an eye to look over at his wife. The sun had been a blessing for Juju, making her glow, her skin and hair looking healthy and fresh in a way she almost only did during early pregnancy. If Detox hadn’t been snipped, he would have genuinely worried for a moment.

“Hi.”

Juju smiled, and sat up on her elbows. “Hi.” She was naked, her brown hair falling over her shoulders, and Detox watched her breasts, Juju giggling at the attention.

“Are you still drunk?” Detox reached over, brushing some of Jujus locks behind her shoulders so he could fully watch her tits. “You’re awfully chipper.”

“Seems like someone fucked it out of me last night.”

Detox snorted. “Can’t have been me then, I remember you yelling that I haven’t fucked you good since before Grace was born the last time we fought.” Detox had taken her doggy style, Juju groaning into her pillow, her full hips and delightfully fat ass grasped in Detox’s hand.

Juju smiled, an apologetic and gentle look in her eyes. “Sorry.” She leaned down, her tits resting on Detox’s shoulder as she kissed his neck.

“Daddy!!”

“Coming!” Detox sat up, two sets of small hands hammering on their bedroom door. “.. Did you lock it last night?”

Juju rolled over, picking up his shirt from the floor and throwing it at him. “Maybe I wanted you to myself for a while.”

Detox looked at his wife, a brief surge of love rushing through his chest, before the slams on the door grew even louder.

“I’m coming, you fucking demons!” Detox yelled, a smile on his face. “Calm down!”

/////

Adore stirred, a strange noise rousing her from her deep sleep, eyes glued shut. After storming out of the club last night, she’d dragged Courtney back to the boat, where they’d ripped tequila shots, dancing and singing and avoiding any deep conversations, finally passing out face down on Courtney’s bed. It was glorious, but now she was paying for it.

Water.

She tried to reach blindly towards the nightstand where she was pretty sure a bottle of water stood, but was met with excruciating pain the second she moved.

“Ughhhhh…”

“Tell me about it,” came Courtney’s voice, weak and hoarse, from the bathroom.

Adore rubbed her eyes and blinked slowly, turning her head gingerly towards the bathroom. Courtney sat on the floor, head against the toilet bowl. That was when Adore realized; the sound waking her up must have been Courtney throwing up. Poor thing.

“Y’okay?” Adore croaked out.

“No. Why did you have to choose tequila of all things?” Courtney pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain.

“‘M sorry baby.” Adore buried her face back into the pillow, as the memories from earlier in the night came back, the reason for the tequila binge in the first place. Oh god, what a mess. Outside, a foghorn blasted, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin.

“Dear god…” Courtney said, then began retching again.

Adore whimpered pitifully into the pillow. Today was going to be just delightful.

/////

For once, Violet woke up after Sutan. Her entire body ached, the sheer panic from last night still playing at the edges of her fingertips. She thought of what had happened, at the way Bianca had looked at her, at Raven’s pure enthusiasm, at the look on Sutan’s face. She wanted to throw up, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that happen.

“Hi...” Sutan smiled, and Violet wanted to cry. He had been so good to her last night, not following her into the darkness that had been her mind even once. Instead, he had pulled her back, put her together with gentle hands and more compassion than anyone deserved, least of all a liar like her.

“Hi...”

Violet reached out, gently running a hand through Sutan’s hair, the grey strands so soft underneath her fingers. They had fallen asleep, bodies pressed against each other, Violet laying on top of Sutan.

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was low, but Sutan picked up it instantly, his surprise at her question hitting Violet directly in the stomach.

“Why are you asking me?” Sutan looked at her, his brow furrowed. “You’re the one who’s pregnant.”

The word was terrible, the gravity of it, the way it changed everything still making a shiver run down Violet’s spine, but she didn’t want to panic, didn’t want to run, and that had to be enough for now.

“Maybe…” Violet bit her lip, pulling her hand away and putting it underneath her head. “But I’m not the only one here… Not the only one...” Violet sighed, annoyance rushing over her at how terrible she was at talking, how her words always failed her when she needed them most. “I love you, and I want to hear how you’re… What you’re feeling?”

Sutan chuckled, the sound dry and so very like her boyfriend that Violet couldn’t help but smile.

“If I’m honest? A little terrified.” Sutan touched Violet’s leg with his, pulling her even closer, sliding their bodies together. “It’s not everyday that your girlfriend, who’s 26 and has told you that she doesn’t want kids, tells you that she’s pregnant.”

Violet remembered it vividly. How they had laid in bed and how Sutan had said that he wouldn’t mind having kids, how she had wanted to laugh back then, how ridiculous the idea had seemed to her at 23, but so much had changed since then. She had changed. But most importantly, she knew that they had changed, and that they had changed together.

“I don’t know if it’s true anymore...” Violet felt Sutan’s arm settle over her hip, her boyfriend's skin just as warm as always.

“What’s true?”

“That I don’t want kids.” They were the most terrifying words Violet had ever said, and yet, they didn’t seem so frightening when Sutan was touching her. “I’m not saying that I want them, but…

I’m not saying that I don’t don’t want kids.” don’t know if I want them… But I know that I don’t not want them no matter what.”

“You. Violet Chachki.” Sutan smiled, his eyes filled with a tender love. “Are the most confusing woman in the world.”

Violet kissed him, their lips gently touching. She could have stayed in bed forever, but a member of the staff knocked on the door, gently reminding them that they were docking in, and that they had to pack.

/////

Raja was brushing out her hair, the task usually one of silent indulgencet, a moment during her day that was only for her. Today, however, Raven was still brewing up a storm, her wife walking around the room and packing violently, like every item they had brought along had personally offended her.

“Please be careful with that-” Raja didn’t get to finish her sentence, Raven throwing her expensive shampoo into her bag.

“Okay that’s enough.” Raja stood up, putting her brush down. “You need to stop being a brat, princess.”

“I? Need to stop being a brat?” Raven turned, her eyes filled with anger. “You’re negotiating modeling contracts, without telling me!”

“Sssh.” Raja put a finger over her mouth. “The twins are asleep.”

“You think I give a fuck?!”

Raja made the decision right then and there, one step, then another, and she was in front of Raven, her hand covering her wife’s mouth. “Shut up.”

Raven’s eyes grew comically large, and Raja could almost feel her knees buckling, Raven wonderfully slutty for whenever she took actual charge.

“You’re going to listen, and you’re going to listen now. Okay?”

Raven nodded, and Raja smiled. “Good girl.” Raja didn’t release her hand, knowing that she couldn’t trust Raven not to go off in a tantrum just yet.

“Yes Karl approached me, yes I might model again, no, this has nothing to do with you getting fired-”

Raja could feel Raven attempt to speak.

“No. You got fired baby girl, and you deserved it.”

Raven’s eyes shot lightning, and Raja knew it was still sensitive, but she understood her brother’s decision to cut her wife free, and she would have done the same if she was in Sutan’s shoes.

“I shouldn’t have considered it without discussing it with you.” Raja moved her hand, Raven’s lips bit together in a thin thin line. “And I apologize for that, but I might do it, and that’s my decision. Okay princess?”

Raven stood for a while, shuffling from one foot to the other. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Raja smiled, Raven finally coming down from her temper tantrum.

“Fine.” Raven continued packing, and Raja assumed that it was over, so she started braiding her hair, not paying attention anymore, until Raven spoke up again. “So… Just so you know…”

“Yes darling?” Raja looked over her shoulder, to where Raven was standing, folding their clothes

“If a good offer does come along, it might not hurt to take it seriously.” Raven smiled. “I wouldn’t say no to a little extra sugar for all the hard work I put into being a mommy.”

“Of course.” Raja smiled, Raven already fully onto bargaining. “What would you want first?”

“Have you seen the new Birkins?” Raven twirled a bit of her hair, and Raja chuckled. She worked in fashion, so of course she had seen the new velvet pink Birkins, had already emailed her sales associate at Hermes to be put on the list for it so she could gift it to Raven.

Raja was just about to reply, when they heard the distinct sound of Tanya crying.

“Jesus Christ…” Raven groaned, dropping the pants she was folding.

Raja laughed. “I’ll go see what’s wrong.”

“No. No.” Raven walked by, kissing Raja’s cheek. “I can do it. Besides-” Raven wiggled her brow. “There might be a new little voice joining us soon.”

“... What?” Raja looked down at Raven’s stomach, her brain short circuiting.

“You don’t know?” Raven lifted a brow.

“Know what?”

Raven turned, walking away.

“Raven! Know what?!”

/////

That Violet had requested to go to breakfast had been a surprise, to put it mildly. Sutan had fully expected his girlfriend to hide away in their room all day, a suggestion he wouldn’t have minded at all, but here they were, Violet actually filling her plate at the buffet.

“What is this called again?” Sutan held up a piece of toast with the buffet thongs, pointing it towards Violet.

“I thought you were working on your french?” Violet raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like you have been very diligent in your studies Mr. Amrull.”

“Because models eat tons of toast.” Sutan was working on his french, but he wasn’t picking it up anywhere near as fast as Violet, Elite a whole lot more forgiven than Dior when it came to using english in the workplace.

“It’s called pain grillé.”

“Le or la?” Sutan put the piece on his plate, Violet own sprouting her usual fruits but also beans and even her own piece of toast.

“La.”

Sutan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. They took their seats, Violet’s prediction that no one else would be there absolutely right, everyone else probably hungover or on the beach with their kids. There had been a shadowy figure in the corner that resembled Adore when they first arrived, wrapped in a hoodie and wearing dark glasses. But other that that, the buffet was empty. Sutan grabbed Violet’s foot underneath the table, trapping it with his own, and Violet chuckled, allowing it.

Sutan knew the peace between them was fragile, that they still had so much to talk about, but for a moment, they could just sit and eat together. It was ruined in seconds however, by the doors opening, Raja and Raven stepping through with their kids in tow.

/////

Adore trudged down the beach toward her bungalow, shoes in her hand, last night’s eye makeup still smudged on her cheeks. Physically, she was feeling a lot better, after some alka-seltzer, a gallon of water, pancakes, and a Bloody Mary -- but emotionally, she was still on edge. She spotted Alaska up ahead and swallowed, forcing herself to keep going, approach her, not knowing exactly what to expect.

What she found was her girlfriend in a somber, contrite, slightly teary state. She dropped to her knees in the sand and wrapped Alaska up into the biggest, tightest hug she could.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I...really lost it.”

“You’re allowed,” Adore said, brushing her hair away from her eyes. “You obviously care about it a lot, and so…” Adore took another deep breath. “Listen, if you really really want kids, Lasky. Then...you should have kids. You’d be a great mom.”

Alaska scoffed, looking down at her hands. “I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I practically ripped your face off the second a conversation didn’t go my way, so...maybe I’d actually be a really shit mom.” She sniffled.

“Okay, or...what if you look at it like...you ripped my face off for denying life to your hypothetical children, protecting them before they are even born?” Adore offered a bright smile.

“That’s a reach.”

“I’m serious,” Adore said softly. “I think any kid would be lucky as fuck to have you as a mom.”

Alaska leaned a head on Adore’s shoulder, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Thanks, bear.”

“Besides, Jinkx will keep you in line.”

“Oh god. Poor Jinkx.” Alaska covered her face with her hands.

“I know. We really wore her out, huh?” Adore giggled a little into Alaska’s blonde hair.

“Yeah. Let’s go find her?”

“Okay.” Adore rose from the sand, pulling Alaska up with her. Before they began their journey through the sand, Adore squeezed Alaska’s hand, pulling her back. “Listen, I...”

“Yeah?”

“I really want to support you, if this is...what you want. I’ll do what I can, but I just don’t know if I can…” Adore bit her lip.

Alaska looked at her face, into her sad swollen eyes, and touched her cheek.

“I know.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Adore’s temple. “We’ll figure it out.”

/////

[I can’t BELIEVE you!] Raja was fuming, Sutan grabbing her arm and pulling her outside when she had thrown her plate, causing a scene in the almost abandoned restaurant, Raven whispering in her ear the moment the Russian had spotted them.

[Violet is PREGNANT, and you didn’t tell me?!] Raja’s chest was hot, anger swirling inside of her, her heart beating heavy in her ears.her chest hot, anger swirling inside of her, bursting out. [I’m your fucking twin, and you didn’t tell me!]

Violet had made her escape the moment Raja had started yelling, the black haired woman slipping out of the restaurant with the speed of light, her plate half finished  while Raven had looked on with both amusement and fright, Raja not even sure if her wife had ever seen her this angry.

[How long have you known?!]

Raja hated Violet. Actually, truly, deeply, hated her. How dare she keep her brother away from her? How dared she drive a wedge like this between them?

[Raja. You have to calm down.] Sutan’s grip on her elbow was tight, his fingers digging into what little flesh she had there. They had made it onto the beach, the long stretch of sand abandoned of other humans, the open view and the crashing waves reminding Raja of Indonesia, her heart breaking into pieces.

[Don’t tell me what to do!] Raja pulled away, forcing Sutan to release her arm. [I can’t believe you did this!]

[Calm down, or I won’t talk to you.]

Raja looked at her brother, more than ready to spew venom in his face, to scream the frustration that was clawing at her. It was them against the world, always had been, always would be, and now this had happened between them, Sutan keeping a secret this gigantic from her.

Raja opened her mouth, but then, she saw the look on his face, her brother completely calm, his dark brown eyes looking right back at her, meeting her gaze head on and standing his ground. His face was so like her’s, and yet so utterly foreign for the first time ever, and Raja deflated, her anger fizzling away.

[How long have you known?]

[Yesterday.] Sutan watched her for a moment, making sure she had actually calmed before he pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to her and Raja took it immediately. She needed something, anything to ground her, to let her pretend that she still knew everything about the man next to her. Sutan lit her up, shielding her cigarette against the wind, and Raja took the first drag.

[Fuck…] Raja groaned, tears still threatening to spill from her eyes. She hadn’t cried since her girls had been born, and she hated it. She sat down in the sand, pulling her knees up, her beige Saint Tropez pants probably already soaking up the dirt.

[Are you going to keep it?]

Raja couldn’t believe that her brother had gotten Violet pregnant, that it had to happen after he had moved to Paris, the rift between them just growing bigger and bigger. She had noticed it, of course, but Raja hadn’t been able to imagine that her brother would grow so far from her, even in her wildest dreams.

Sutan sat down next to her, lighting his own cigarette. [We don’t know.]

Raja looked over at him, her head resting on her knees. [What do you mean you don’t know?]

[That we don’t know yet.] Sutan took a drag of his cigarette, her brother putting his arm around her, and pulling her into his side. [We’re still talking about it.]

Raja snapped to her brother. [What do you mean you don’t know?]

[That we don’t know yet.] Sutan blew out smoke, Raja remembering her own cigarette, almost an inch of grey ash threatening to spill at the tip.

[Shit…] Raja felt her heart speed up. “Shit…”

“Shit indeed..” Sutan smiled a little, his eyes so incredibly sad. “Violet said that she knew that she didn’t not want to keep it.”

Raja snorted, the evasive and frankly ridiculous statement so like the woman her brother had chosen to love and even prioritise over her. “And how do you feel?”

“I’m fine either way.”

“TanTan.” Raja looked at her brother. [Don’t lie. Not to me.] She grabbed his hand, gently intertwining their fingers as it rested over her shoulder.

“I want it.” Sutan’s voice was small, much smaller than Raja had ever heard it before, her brother sounding like he was almost scared to speak his desire. “I want it Raja.” Sutan took a deep breath. “And I’m terrified Violet doesn’t want the same.”

/////

“Do you hate us?” Adore asked, placing a soft kiss against Jinkx’ cheek.

“Never,” Jinkx said, catching her chin and kissing her back, this time on the lips. Alaska’s fingers wound their way into her hair. “I love you both, even when you’re insufferable.”

“We love you too,” Alaska said, a contented sigh leaving her lips.

“So...what are we gonna do?”

“Short term? I guess I’ll see the doctor and ask about our options,” Alaska said. “Long term? Who knows.”

Jinkx turned around to kiss her too, wrapping an arm around her slender waist.

“Sounds perfect.” Jinkx hummed softly, pulling both of her girls in close, and then began to giggle softly.

“What?”

“Why does sheee get a baby?” Jinkx said, perfectly imitating Alaska’s drawn out whine.

“Oh god, did I really say that?” Alaska buried her face in Jinkx’ hair.

“You were really on one.”

“Wait, who gets a baby?” Adore asked.

“Uh...it seems that Violet is a little bit pregnant. Maybe.”

“Ooooh fuck.” Adore thought for a moment. “Well there you go. She probably won’t want it. You should buy it from her.”

“Omigod, Adore…” Jinkx shook her head. “You don’t just buy someone’s baby.”

“I mean, you say that but...money talks, babe. Make her an offer.”

“Stop,” Jinkx laughed. “Please do not repeat that, ever.”

/////

Violet sprung from the bed when she heard the door open. She had paced the room, walking back and forth, everything in her itching to go for a run, to force her body to go until she could feel nothing but the beat of her heart and her breath, but she hadn’t dared, the thing in her stomach holding her back. Violet had started to think less and less of it like an invader, less of whatever that was growing in her belly as a dangerous and terrifying entite that had come to ruin everything and more like.. Like something else.

Violet walked out of the bedroom, looking around. “Sutan?”

“Here.” Violet turned, her boyfriend's voice coming from the couch where it looked like he had dumped down straight from the door. He looked terrible, tired and grey, the white shirt that had been freshly pressed this morning crumbled, his hair looking the way it only ever did when he ran his hand through it out of worry.

“Sutan?” Violet sat down, not touching him but watching. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Violet bit her lip, the words so like the man she loved and knew so well, but she also knew that he was lying. She reached out, gently touching his knee. “How did it go with Raja?”

“She’s not mad.”

Violet nodded, listening to his words. “That’s good.” Sutan closed his eyes, leaning against the back of the couch, his head tipped back. Violet wanted to ask again if he was okay, but she knew how much she hated the question herself. Knew how uncomfortable it made her to be propped and probed. She just sat, her thumb gently stroking Sutan’s knee. “That’s very good.”

Sutan put his hand on top of Violet, and she released a breath, allowing herself to fall into the embrace Sutan offered, her legs over his lap, her arm over his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and hiding in his neck. “I love you.” Violet whispered it against his skin, saying the words almost more for herself than for him, but Sutan still heard them, his hand finding her hair, his fingers gliding through it, gently and slowly petting her.

“I love you too lovely eyes.”