#he says his war experience was too much the same as all the other young men back then and he has nothing new to say

[etraytin]

Old War Stories

It's interesting to talk with my WWII vet client about the war. He's 101 now but his memories of that part of his life are still clear, just tempered by the weight of years that have gone by since then. All of his old friends and comrades are dead by now, though he pays close attention when a veteran gets on the news for turning 100 or an honor flight is mentioned. Almost everyone he knew from his youth and the prime of his life are gone now, but he likes to tell stories about them. He likes telling stories about the war, mostly funny stories about how bad the sanitary conditions were or the food or being asked to build their own semi-permanent shelter and nobody knowing how. He has a great story about the time he almost got court-martialed for all but peeing on a general who happened to be walking by; it's one of his favorites.

Sometimes, though, he gets into a pensive mood and the tone of the stories changes. We were out in his yard the other evening because he wanted to trim the hedges and I was trying to keep him from breaking a hip while trimming the hedges, when something reminded him of his time in Italy. It started out with funny stories about the young guys getting lined up for medical exams and STD checks, but then wandered down other paths. He told me how they would go out into the town and the little boys who barely knew English and called all the soldiers Joe would try to tell them about their sisters who were sixteen or seventeen or eighteen and who "liked soldiers." He explained that the people in the town had nothing, they didn't have enough to eat and they would steal or do whatever they had to do. He told me that one time he made his way into the commissary area and somehow secured a big can of mixed fruit to his abdomen with a belt and managed to sneak it out and give it to some of the kids. That part of the story was funny, but he wondered aloud what happened to any of those people later on, how many of them managed to survive.

My client is proud of helping to win the war, proud of his service, proud of the friends he lost and the sacrifices they made. But he is haunted by it too, in ways that show sometimes in the stories. He says he talked with the pilot of the Enola Gay once, who came from his bombardment group and who he knew a little bit. He told me he asked the pilot if he'd do it again, and the pilot told him that he was an officer in the Army AIr Corps, under oath and under orders, and in the same circumstances he would do it again. And then my client told me another story of the first bombing mission he went on, when the bombing was a fairly new thing, and how the people in the town below heard the engines and saw the contrails and came out of their houses to look at the planes. If they'd run a few hundred yards perpendicular to the plane trajectory, my client told me, they'd have been safe. But they didn't. They didn't know any better. He decided that was enough war stories and yard work for one evening and we went inside.

[hanasnx]

" I FANTASIZE ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME " — hayden christensen.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: kinktober. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ daddy kink ノ sexual content: p in v ノ unprotected sex ノ dumbification ノ breeding kink ノ pregnancy scare ノ size difference ノ marriage mentions.

YOUNG!HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN who’s specifically close to your age. He fathers you while he doesn't have that much more life experience compared to you, even indulges in some breeding kink with his little girl. Your college-age boyfriend lets you sit on his cock and call him dad while he tells you he's "gonna put a baby in you, give you your own little girl to take care of." She'll be part of daddy's twins, you'll wear matching outfits and do you hair the same. "you'd look so cute" he says "with a little mini-you following you around. Like a doll to dress up." This movie star, fresh off the Star Wars set, bought you a 40k rock after the first week of dating you, just hasn't found the right time to propose yet—he just knows he wants you to call him dad for the rest of your lives.

He fucks you raw, talks shit in your ear about how he's gonna make sure this time. You were so eager to reach back and peel the condom right off of him, let him hit it bareback. You presented your little pussy so readily, how could he not reward you with a couple loads? You plead your usual mantras, begging him for it, telling him you'll do anything he wants, you'll do anything for him. So he lets you have it, empties himself into your little hole and plugs you up. Even does it a few times to really hammer it in that thick head of yours that he's getting what he wants. Talks you through feeling that warm seed spill out of you, only to get replaced with more, makes sure you know he's fucking a baby into you.

It's all just talk. Early in the morning he gets you a Plan B to take, he knows the drill. However, the results don't pan out as expected. Your period is late, and you get nervous. "It's normal," he reassures while he strokes your hair, "We'll keep an eye on it, sweetheart, just gotta be patient." Rocking you in his lap while he holds you, tucking your head under his chin.

"I don't understand!" you cry, clutching onto his clothes at his chest. Those glossy eyes he fell for look up at him and bat long eyelashes. "We're so careful." you sniffle.

His lips press together, memories come flooding back at the night in question. Your grabby hands stretching that sticky cum-stained condom off, and him pushing his hips forward to offer it to you. The positions you got up to that night. The euphoria of feeling each other bare intoxicating you two, filling your heads as you let fantasies run away with you. A knowing look pierces your innocent act, and a petite smile tugs at the corners of your lips, as if he's transferred the dirty recollections to you. Suddenly bashful, you cover your mouth with your hand. "Oh, I suppose we weren't very..." you trail off, electing to not finish the word "safe." He leans forward to peck your forehead.

You two have a couple of long talks about the reality of the situation, him talking, you listening. You let him reassure you that he'll "still love you whatever happens, whatever you choose to do." unsaid that it's in the case that you do get pregnant. It's not what you want to happen, but it assuages the anxious feeling in your stomach to know you've got someone who won't cut and run.

A couple of negative pregnancy tests and getting your period eases your worries, too. Taking out your relief on Hayden, you throw your arms around his neck to kiss on him drunkenly. "We almost made a baby together, daddy. Isn't that crazy? You almost put a kid in me for real... we would've made such a cute kid, don't you think?" the way you're babbling makes it sound like you're... disappointed that it didn't happen—or you're hot and bothered by the fact it almost did.

"Uh-huh, princess, that's right." he humors you while you kiss his grin. A big hand strokes up and down your back. "Was scary though, huh?" In a calculated move, he subtly reinforces the fear of it, to make sure you know the consequences you two narrowly escaped. You nod while your pursed lips dig into his cheek, essentially nuzzling your face against his. He jostles you to make sure you're listening. "We'll just have to be extra careful next time. Gotta learn to keep the condom on."

[masteri-0]

Just had a sudden thought of Dragon!Shen Yuan (or any creature really) AU, where it was like a normal rite of passage for parents to raise their young (protectively, they're not jerks, just uh, very unsafe for human children, or just humans in general...), then throw them into some sort of extreme trial to prove their strength, when they're deemed ready. Oh, and it was normal, expected, even, to take a go at your parents and try to murder them as a proof of superiority, or smt like that. Doesn't mean they don't love each other! Dragons just have a different way of showing care, that's all. What's a lil play fighting?

Anyw, main point is, SY transmigrates into SQQ with this mentality. Sees his cute little sheep. Falls in love instantly and adopts him. But oh! Oh, the protagonist is so weak, so malnourished! He's gonna nurture him and make sure he's well taken care of! Such a scrawny little sheep can't possibly survive anything! Oh? What's that? He has to push the scrawny baby into the abyss? Well! Makes sense, but that's years into the future, and he has time to make sure they grow up big and strong yet! Cue all the canonical pampering.

I'd imagine during LBH's disciple days, he receives a lot more comments about him going out into the world, and there's less matchmaking from Shizun, since SY believes that girls will flock naturally to him if he's strong enough, so there's also more emphasis on his training, as well as the training of other disciples on the peak. I'm not sure how he'll react to Bai Zhan disciples. Does he comment on their strength and set off the QJP disciples, causing an interpeak war? Does he still hold the same annoyance for them and property damage?

By the time the IAC rolls around, SQQ has already sent his not so little white sheep all over to gain experience, and deemed him ready for his 'coming of age' (close to human adulthood too, he'll do fineee). There is far less tears and hesitation. When the time comes and LBH's seal is broken, SQQ feels the increase in power and the last of his worry dissipates. He basically just looks at his kid, nods, and chucks him in. Dusts off his hands and pats himself on the back. One child down, however many more to go. Oh, they grow up so fast... (Was LBH freaking out during this? Oh well, must be the nerves, he knew the feeling well. But he's read the book and knows what's going to happen. His kid will be okay, and he'll naturally gain confidence after surviving in there!... No one ever said dragons were GOOD at feelings ...)

Of course, it takes some time to adjust to the absence, but there's less grieving and freaking out over his impending doom. Sure, he's judging the original work a little. Limbless and hanging, really? SY much prefers a clean death, thank you. (How he died in his previous life is up to interpretation). But that's besides the point, his favourite is off on his trial, and it's about time to test a few of his other kiddos too (single dad to, uh, how many?)

Shen Qingqiu gains reputation as a sadistic (?) teacher that puts his disciples through dangerous missions seemingly without care, but unlike in the past, he seems to love the kids and dotes on them off-missions, so no one's really sure what's going on with... That. (He's still waiting for one of them, any of them, to try and kill him? Where's the bonding?? Was he not doing enough???)

So when LBH returns, things go uh, differently. SQQ is just here, waiting in anticipation, appreciating how his kid's all grown up, and seeing the scheme to unfold. Safe to say, people are confused. (Him, especially. What do you mean, his kid isn't trying to kill him?? Really, where did he go so wrong in parenting? None of his kids want to bond with him the proper way!!)

(I imagine SY being a better fighter than in canon due to literal trial of fire as a dragonet, and I'm not sure if he would've gotten hit with without a cure at all during the invasion in consideration of this)

[ride-thedragon]

A critical analysis of Rhaenyra's motherhood.

Now I'm really happy that the show gave a critical lens to this with episode 7, but it's been established since S1. It was just that her fans and people who don't like Alicent made it extremely hard to give this criticism other and compared her to Alicent even though they aren't in the same circumstances. This is going to be a critical look at Rhaenyra’s motherhood, so if that will make you upset, move on.

Her relationship to mothers.

Rhaenyra doesn't have a real mother figure throughout her life. We see that she feels the need to take care of her mother at 14, probably because she saw Aemma go through it before. When her father kills her she's scared by it and it changes her.

We then see her lean into Alicent, but by the time she's trying to gain a sense of normalcy, her friend is going to marry her father. I know a lot of people hold out hope for that deleted scene, but I like the way they keep it in the show. Rhaenyra doesn't empathise with Alicent because of what happened with Aemma. She becomes a mother, and without much thought, Rhaenyra sees her as the king's wife and baby maker.

With Rhaenys (we will return to it) she doesn't seem to see her in that light. Rhaenys is a caution for who she isn't and wouldn't be. She's too young to realise the freedom Rhaenys has from her position.

There are no other prominent mother figures around her either, and Rhaenyra continues to see motherhood as a trap or slow death in a sense, a way to lock a woman up and bring her down.

How she becomes a mother

Rhaenyra does like sex. She's grown, and even though Daemon will burn in hell for risking her life like that for his own gain with her first sexual experience, Rhaenyra clearly likes sex, she likes the enjoyment and connection, the desire and want.

But she is a woman in feudalism, so she is looked down on because of it. When she has to get married after not finding that in any partner she was presented with, she specifically made the arrangement with Laenor that their sex was out of duty and obligations to make heirs while they could both seek out pleasure.

Rhaenyra and Laenor do not have a healthy or good relationship. Joffrey is murdered by Criston without punishment, and Laenor does his duty, but Rhaenyra finds no joy in it. People like to act as though Rhaenyra would've had to sa Laenor to have his kids but that's not what she says.

Rhaenyra is young and likes sex. She wants to have sex and feel desired. Laenor is gay and traumatised but still doing his duty like they discussed. Rhaenyra seeks out Harwin because she wants to enjoy sex and because sex with him is more enjoyable and what she wanted she gets pregnant.

By this point, she has the risk of the child being Harwin's, but why would she care? The child could be Laenor’s, and if not, he should provenly still look Valyrian.

The child does not look Valyrian, but she is now the mother of that child. She can't say he's a bastard because that's treason, so she passes it off as Laenor’s. This trend will continue and worsen with time.

All of her kids.

Jace.

This ine shocked people recently but I wasn't shocked. Rhaenyra has harmed Jace arguably the moat in all of this. He's her heir while she's fighting this war. Anything they do and any harm she puts herself in that could cost her her life, the Lord of the Realm will be asked to bow to a bastard. He's fully aware of this.

Jace is in constant question of himself, and Rhaenyra can never answer him. The first time he asks if he's a bastard she kisses him and doesn't answer, when he says he should be grieving Ser Harwin, she tells him it wouldn't be appropriate after her non answer and sends him to comfort Baela. She marries Daemon and has true boen Valyrian children by him, risking his life because his biggest protection outside of Rhaenyra was 'kilked' in a way that facilitated that union.

She tries and fails to betrothe him to Helaena, and after she engages him to Baela when she should be looking to allies to support her claim because she can't risk him marrying a non Valyrian.

Now, she keeps putting herself at risk in order to satiate her desires for peace and reunion while he is terrified not just to lose his power but to lose his position. Then she coddles him so he can't prove himself because Luke died. She dismisses and avoids his concerns six years later, just as she did when he was 10, something we see him do to Luke.

Now she again chooses herself before him when it comes to the Dragonseeds, calling into question his biggest legitimacy outside of her. Her right is her priority, and she chooses it over the potential harm it will cause to him. I also don't think she would've done it without that scene with Viserys in episode 8.

Luke.

Rhaenyra is really reckless with this one. She doesn't stop with Harwin. She doubles down because she believes it grants Jace viability if he and all his brothers look alike.

So when the heir to house Velayron doesn't look Velayron, people are rightfully upset. But again, thanks to Rhaenyra and Laenor protecting them, Luke doesn't realise he is a bastard until he's fully confronted with it. Then Rhaneyra, on two separate occasions, chooses to add fuel to the fire. With the boys and Aemond, Luke goes unpunished and protected because of Rhaenyra and her appeal to Viserys. This is something that festers in Aemond.

With the Velayrons who all suspect foul play with Rhaenyra and Laenor, when she kills Vaemond without answering him, she gives room for Luke to question why she didn't have an answer and in his mind, he should've just given the seat up. But he is Rhaenyra's son and she has fixed the situation by wedding him to Rhaena so he doesn't have to worry. She will always be there.

She isn't, though. He's sent away on a mission where he confronts the two things she willingly chose to ignore, Aemond and his bastardy. This leads to Luke's death.

Joffrey.

My baby boy hasn't done anything wrong and is fine, but the show willingly chooses to ignore any mention of his engagement to the Manderlys isn't a great sign that she won't choose to simply marry him off as well to fix the bastard problem.

Aegon and Viserys (and legally Visenya)

These kids genuinely harm Jace specifically. If they decide to be the heirs, more men would stand behind them because they are true born. That's a decision Rhaenyra made because, again, she thinks these boys will be raised outside of that conflict because of her. She is at the center of it.

Again, it's the question of sex and how much she truly thinks she can protect her kids from each other. Especially since Jace treats them like a segregated line, he won't cross.

Baela and Rhaena.

Show Rhaenyra isn't a mother to these girls. She's adultified one while parentifying the other and never offers comfort outside of her own gain. She is not a mother. She hasn't put herself in that position. You can argue she doesn't have too but she should have. Now, she is using them to her benefit in place of herself and what she can't do. Baela is the dragonrider, and Rhaena is the mother despite her protest. These girls aren't daughters to her. She doesn't give them the benefit of loving them enough to hear them.

It's not her responsibility, but she dies understand the position she is in and uses it when it benefits her.

With a focus on Rhaena for a moment as well, they let her claim seasmoke when they thought Laenor was alive in Essos. She risked her life trying to claim a dragon they understood would kill her. I really do hope that they didn't know, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did.

Is she a good mother?

No. She isn't a good mom. It's not a bad thing. She loves her kids because they are hers. She protects them because they are hers. We see a clear contrast with Laena's girls and how she sympathises with them. She, however, doesn't offer them comfort. She sends Jace to do it. Rhaenyra’s kids are an extension of her. She loves them dearly and will not see them questioning who they are. Because she did and hated it. Her kids are legitimate through her. They hatched her dragons egg, and she loves them. It is enough for her, but she has doomed them from the start. They will never be safe, and they are sure to have a sucession crisis amongst themselves. Being loving is important, but she doesn't recognise the responsibility she has to them. Even in episode 7 of seaon 2, we see the same pattern. Ultimately, she comes first. To their detriment, but she loves them. Welcome back, Viserys Targaryen.

Conclusion

I don't think there is a good mom I house of the dragon. And Rhaenyra isn't the place to start to disprove that. Alicent isn't a good mom, Rhaenys isn't a good mom and Laena, even though she is the closest we come to it, isn't a good mom, I'd say she's the best out of the bunch though. Laena is certainly the most normal mom, though. Laena is the best mom. Thank you for coming.

[targaryen-dynasty]

REWRITE THE STARS.

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader

Aemond arrives at your betrothed‘s funeral. And after being denied your hand in marriage once, he does not come to leave without you.

WARNINGS: angst? mentions of death, mentions of war, hinting at murder, kinda dark Aemond, female reader of House Baratheon (no mentions of appearance)

WORDS: 1.5 K

NOTES: Wow, feels weird posting something without smut lmfao. But… 👀 It‘s not mentioned, but someone particular and very jealous might have killed Lord Rosby, seeing that his House had deflected to the Greens at the very beginning of the war.

The body of your betrothed had not even been lowered into the ground by the time the enormous wings of Vhagar casted a dark shadow over the castle of Rosby. 

He had been drowning in his own blood after being struck in his throat by a crossbow from one of the so-called Black’s, or so you have been told, and while the image of it had been quite unsettling, the funeral itself was not too bad. 

Lord Rosby was many years older than you, and you had been betrothed not long before the war started. The Lord himself had asked for your hand in marriage, and with your father still having four more daughters to spare for any kind of political alliance, he had all too eagerly agreed. 

Much to the disliking of the prince, who dismounted his large beast at this very moment. 

He had convinced your father to support Aegon in the war of succession by promising to marry one of his daughters. You had been standing next to your father while your sisters stood lined up for Aemond to choose, and even after stating more than once that you hadn’t been free to marry anymore, the besotted prince had just reluctantly agreed to take the hand of your older sister Floris in marriage. 

Marrying a young prince of a House as noble as House Targaryen seemed far more appealing than marrying an old lord of House Rosby, and for the short time Aemond had stayed in the Round Hall of Storm’s End, it seemed you two had shared the same resentment towards the man sitting on the throne right next to you.

The envy you felt towards your sister had been eating you alive, so much that you had requested for your belongings to be moved to the castle of Rosby just so you didn’t have to endure seeing her face any longer. That your betrothed was not even there at that time just made it better.  

Now your father – and possibly you as well – had to experience the consequences of his pride and stubbornness first hand, it seemed. 

Upon spotting the large dragon in the far distance, a few members of House Rosby had taken their leave to go into hiding, but you and your father stood strong, despite the risk of being bathed in Vhagar’s flames sooner than later. 

For your father, it might have been the belief in his allegiance to the King, but for you, it was your House’s words, ours is the fury – and your fury was solely aimed at the man responsible for your misery. 

The rustling and shuffling behind you indicated that the few people, that had remained at the funeral side, bowed to the approaching prince, their mumbled courtesies not prompting you to turn around. 

“Lord Borros,” his voice was cold and calculated, dragging a shiver down your spine. “I assume you know what I came here for.”

Your father sighed, barely audible to anyone other than you, but even then you refused to acknowledge what was happening behind your back. It was not your place to speak, as you knew you had little say in the matter. 

The steps of Aemond coming closer could be heard, his presence suffocating. "‘Tis clear that she is not to wed Lord Rosby anymore. He was slain in battle, and his death has rendered the marriage pact void,” he stated the obvious, not mincing any words. “I desire to take her hand in marriage now.”

“Lord Rosby is but a day cold in the ground. It is hardly fitting of us to discuss marriage before he is even laid to rest,” your father scoffed, the sharp edge to his voice causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand. “Besides, I have already given you the hand of one of my other daughters, Prince Aemond. Your House might do as it sees fit, but mine will not, and one wife is more than enough.”

At his bold statement, your body went rigid, more so as you merely heard Aemond humming in return. 

After that, a short silence descended upon the courtyard.

“Do not allow your foolish pride to cloud your judgment, Lord Borros.” You raised a brow at that, curious to find out what direction this encounter was meant to take. “You will not gain anything by denying it.”

Not watching the moment the knights lowered your betrothed’s body into his final resting place, you turned around. Your eyes drifted from the ground up to the prince standing not too far away, his lips curled, and a steely stare solely focused on your father. 

“Your other daughter is of no interest to me.” His face was unmoving, and his voice as sharp as a steel dagger. “I have made clear what I wanted when I first set foot in your halls, and now, I have come to take it.”

When Aemond turned his focus on you, you could feel his penetrating gaze weight over you, the intensity of his good eye being enough to make you shiver. Yet, there was something about him that lured you in, a pull that was impossible to resist. With the way his lips pulled into a smug smirk, you knew he had noticed the turmoil raging within you.

Aemond jutted his chin forward, addressing your father while looking at you. “I will take her with me with or without your blessing.” The cold determination with which he spoke had your blood running cold. “You may not have the power to deny me the chance to wed her, Lord Borros, but ‘tis your choice whether you allow it to happen in your halls.”

Gathering your thoughts, you raised a hand to stop your father from speaking even before he had opened his mouth, yet you averted your gaze down to the ground, not able to meet either of their gazes. “The war has already been harsh for the Stormlands and the entire Realm, father. I have seen men return, bearing corpses of husbands and sons,” you said, keeping your focus on the ground beneath your feet with your voice unusually stern. “If this is the only way to bring peace to our people, then so be it.” 

You glanced at your father, and the scowl on his face was almost enough to make you retreat. 

Ours is the fury, you remembered. 

“The Lord Paramour of the Stormlands does not bend to the whims of some Targaryen–” 

“Enough, father,” you interrupted him, your voice stern once more. “The Stormlands have been bleed dry, peace is what matters. If my hand is what Prince Aemond desires, he shall have it.”

Your father grunted in disbelief, not expecting you to speak against him and surrender so easily. 

Aemond’s eye drank you in once more, and the smug smirk his lips had held before had returned, adorning his chiseled features. “Very well,” the Prince Regent declared, moving toward you with a hand outstretched. He intended for you to place yours in it, which you did after a second of hesitating. 

Before he led you towards the beast waiting outside the castle’s walls, Aemond turned to look at your father one last time, the smugness fully taking over his stance and demeanor. “I suggest you start preparing for the wedding, my lord, that is, if you wish to retain the title you currently hold.”

The threat hung in the air, gagging you and making it impossible for you to breathe. You did not meet your father‘s eyes, for you were certain the disappointment flashing in them would burden you even more. 

Silence surrounded you two on the walk towards his dragon, safe for the ‘you chose wisely,’ he had mumbled as you passed through the castle’s gates. These three words had your eyes widening, regarding the prince carefully. 

There was a strange lightness in your stomach as you approached the looming presence of the prince‘s beast, happy and afraid for what was to come at the same time. Were you meant to follow the same tragic path other women that had married a Targaryen prince had taken? Or would your future look different? 

An unfamiliar heat emanated from the dragon the closer you got, pulling you out of your thoughts. There was little time for you to adjust to its presence before your now betrothed urged you to climb the ropes leading towards the saddle on its back. 

“I will be right behind you,“ he said, a poor attempt to calm your fluttering nerves. 

With a bow of your head, you hesitantly reached for the thick ropes and started climbing the beast, the act itself proving to be a great challenge.

Aemond strapped you to the saddle, sitting behind you to keep you steady and supported while the dragon moved to ascend into the sky for your flight to King's Landing.

And with one look over your shoulder, you saw the castle of Rosby and its village disappear in the far distance. 

You had yet to find out if you had made the right decision or not. 

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

xi. eleven: every word you say

the sunlight did not reach her face. there was no sunlight in sight at all, aside from the most external door that shows a little hint of the visible spectrum. she stirred awake on the hard floor she slept, if she had any at all. she slowly sat up, finding the colonel on the adjacent cell, staring into nothingness.

they have yet to acknowledge each other's presence, trapped in their own battles inside. it was a surreal thing—to feel that it was both the end and the beginning. they have long let go of any hopes in receiving a lighter sentence, and that act is what made it possible for them to breathe despite the stifling feeling.

they have found freedom. losing all hope was freedom.

hence, the young silva raised her gaze to the ragged man across. his rank is not apparent on his current state, stripped off of dignity and proper legacy. she pulled him to the deepest ocean floor a man has never explored to.

"i am so sorry, raphael." raine broke the silence, feeling utterly apologetic for bringing the man with her in this fate.

"there is no need." he replied, closing his eyes as he leaned on the wall.

there really was no need. although his tone may have sounded frustrated, it was not directed to the girl. coming to think of it, he believes he would have done the same. he actually did, when he admitted to the suspicions just so she could be saved. the young silva, however, was hardheaded. a small chuckle left his lips as he looked at her in thought.

"you know, your father would be proud."

"oh, silence." raine rolled her eyes in jest, "i have not slept well with how much my eyes poured last night. do not make me cry again."

"but it is true."

"i know," she turned to him with weak eyes, "he asked me one time, if he was being too forceful in making me the viscountess or also the fact that he taught me things that a proper lady would not have preferred."

she laughed at the memory of her father teaching her how to hold a dagger at four, and her mother in utter worry as she caught them both.

"he was afraid he turned me into something he wanted instead of being someone I want to be."

the lady chuckled before continuing, "i told him I do not see myself embroidering at all. he laughed like crazy."

raphael weakly laughed at the story. by the mention of the girl's teaching experiences, a memory resurfaced in his mind as well.

"did you know that your father used to say you shoot like—i apologise for the term we use in the military amongst men—a virgin?"

despite being above average compared to the general public, her shooting really did not pass her father's standards. she could shoot, yes, but it would not have been enough for war. armand concluded that it was enough at the very least for self-defense.

raphael lifted one end of his lips, "i bet he would say otherwise now."

"that is because now i am not." she said with indifference, missing the way the man sat up from his leaning, turning to her fully.

"...wait, what—you mean...?" he asked curiously, his will returning to his voice in spite of their current situation.

raine looked at him and she found it interesting how curious he was at the topic. she let out a short giggle before slowly nodding. his mouth noticeably went ajar at that as he pried more.

"the bridgerton son?" she nodded once again, raphael leaning back down in surprise, shaking his head in disbelief, "your father is going to kill you."

"no need. the crown is doing it for him."

both laughed in chorus—how they could still jest in a situation like this is lost. perhaps, it was there saving grace. little joys do really count.

"i cannot fathom what you could possibly find so amusing in a place like this."

the queen's voice announced her arrival, her face grimacing in disgust at the place. the two greeted her with respect, standing from their position. she looked around, as if assessing their surroundings before settling her eyes to the girl.

her majesty sighed resignedly, "why ever did you have to shoot him?"

"he talked too much."

"that he did." she had no problem agreeing with that statement at all. the lord had been bothering her as well before about royal familial matters.

she clasped her hands, forming the words to say, "i have spoken to have a private execution for you both. it was granted. this is the least i could do, considering everyone has voted for a beheading instead of hanging."

raine nodded thankfully at that. she did not care much. either way, they would be dead. she inquired further, "the soldiers?"

"all free from the charges."

the two released a breath of relief. that was one of their main goals—for the rest of the troop to be able to go home and spend the following years with their families.

"thank you, aunt lottie. that is all i ask." she smiled warmly to the older woman.

"it will be in an hour." the queen noted, pertaining to the execution.

it must already be five in the afternoon already. the young silva did not know how time flew by so fast. she neared the girl, pushing a hand through the bars of her cell. raine held her hand as she continued.

"make death proud to take us."

raphael and raine's ears perked at that, their brows crossing as the queen took back her hand slowly, "how do you know of it?"

charlotte offered them a smile before she turned away, "your father had been a good company."

after the queen, major gilbert and the viscount bridgerton also stopped to visit them. the former relayed the gratefulness of the soldiers by the news of their freedom, while the latter updated her on how the queen is working on for a proper investigation against the said involved people in the treason with the help of the papers that was left to him. they did not take long, of course. the prison had that effect. it was very suffocating.

yet, her breath came back at the sight of the man in front of her.

"what are you doing here?" she said in concern, her lips quivering as she scrambled on her feet.

benedict reached to her, cupping her face with a tearful smile, "i told you. i will always be here."

she shut her eyes in shame of her current state, "you should not see me like this."

he chuckled with tears in his eyes, "like painfully beautiful?"

"like dying." she corrected in all honesty as he went silent, his heavy breathing speaking for himself.

his lips formed a thin line, features traced with painstaking gaze, "you are so unfair."

"i know," she admitted, knowing exactly what he meant, "i am so sorry."

he hushed her, his palms still on her cheeks as he soothed—both tracing the tear marks that intensified their emotions.

"forget about me. let go of this grief completely." she bleakly uttered, torment clear on her voice.

benedict immediately responded a multiple series of 'no' with an intense shaking of his head in disagreement. he would do anything to not forget her, both the joy and painful memories. he would cherish everything that she was present in. he would cling onto every word she utters.

"and in case you do forget about me," she continued, cupping his face with the utmost care, "i hope you remember by my touch alone.

he nodded fervently, "i love you."

he leaned his head to hers, their breaths exchanging as if he was used to the taste of pain on a dead friday night.

"i love you too."

they wanted to be together for as long as they could, and if that's not very long, well, then that's just how it is. and so, they held each other for the last time, coming to terms that if this life will be this cruel, he would spend the rest of his life praying that the next will not be.

he wanted to badly stay with her, to stop the time and prolong this moment. but, it seemed like he had angered the gods as a guard knocked his truncheon on the door, calling for him to exit for the fifteen-minute preparation before the execution.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

no later, guards entered the cells, taking both prisoners with no austerity in their touch. it was so strange for them to the point that it was hard to swallow. they have seized and lead criminals of darkest crimes to their end, yet they find themselves wanting to break the two out.

a viscountess and a colonel, both still children in their own way.

they have never thought there comes a day they would dread their work, and the executioner would say the same. because just as they all arrived in the execution stage, the forty-five soldiers, four members of the bridgerton family, and the queen are in attendance. as she caught sight of them, raine offered a brief, forlorn smile. these people are the ones who she is most thankful of.

executions happen at a faster pace than the young silva thought. one moment they were walking, the next they were kneeling. the executioner bowed to the both of them when they arrived, now asking for forgiveness on the duty he must do in a while. loraine granted him that.

he stood back up, announcing clearly, "you have been granted to speak your final words."

she turned to take a look at raphael, the latter nodding as a sign for her to speak for them both. raine casted her head down in thinking of the words she must say for the last time. she looked back at them all, to no one in particular, and dared to raise her eyes to her terrible fate as she began.

"when a crime goes unpunished, the world is unbalanced. when the wrong is unavenged, the heavens look down on us in shame. we too must die for this circle of vengeance to be closed. we will leave this record of our courage so the world will know who we were and what we did."

as she ended, they both tied the cloth firmly to cover their eyes. at the absence of sight, fear started to creep in. she could hear the executioner stepping away from her and to the colonel first. he declared with resolve, a means of comforting the two souls.

"death is proud to take you."

raine exhaled peacefully at that. it was a reply to their previous convictions—a way of reassuring they have done well.

and so, she did not panic, even when the sound of a drop on the floor filled the place.

raphael had been a great friend, soldier, and a person. the silva would not mind having to fight beside him once again.

the room stayed silent, with no other noise but the small whimpers of the audience. however, it was immediately overshadowed by the sound of footsteps, nearing her one step at a time. she guessed this must be it.

loraine's mind became blank. she hurried herself to think of memories—those that she would love to relive. she had a strange belief that it would not be as painful if she was feeling happy. but, it was also strangely hard to be one in the moment. all she could think of was that maybe, dying is the best option for her in this life. there was no home for her anymore.

and when she greets death, she hoped it is gentle. she hoped it is like going home. she believed a great happiness awaited her somewhere.

and for this reason, she remained calm as the axe hit her neck.

the audience found themselves letting go of the prolonged silence, breaking out to their cries. however, one person did not have any tear or voice left in himself anymore as he stared at the trail of blood that was starting to accumulate and flow away from the body.

indeed, a lot can happen in a day.

he was annoyed by her in one, taken by her in one, and loved her in one. he is grieving for her in one, and he will long for her in one.

and so, he was left with nothing but to face reality—realising that a very frightening thought is now shadowing him intimately.

when tomorrow depends to a person, what should one do? when that person is lost, does that mean tomorrow is too?

love was there. it may have not changed anything. it may have not saved anyone. but, it still matters that the love was there.

because, raine did not need to be saved. she needed to be found and appreciated for who exactly she was. her father has taught her that this world was only a preparation for the next, that all they can ask is to leave it having loved and being loved.

and benedict, until the very last moment, made that known to her and everyone else. she was found. she was appreciated. she was loved.

all by him.

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr @peetahpahkah @myo11 @idek-what-to-put @aysamuka

[gunnrblze]

Keep thinking about unhinged Walker boys. Not even after Rorke took Logan, just in general.

Like, their late teen years were very tumultuous because of ODIN/joining the army, they are 26 and 28 during the game, they’re still YOUNG.

Mid-late 20s and they’re fighting an intense war for their country, fighting on their father’s behalf, fighting a grudge from HIS past, etc. I absolutely believe, aside from their training keeping them in line (and the other Ghosts), that they’d understandably be a little manic at times.

I think you can mostly see it in the way Hesh acts sometimes in the game. Not to say he didn’t have every reason to lol, but he did act bratty and defiant at multiple points, and I think that’d be multiplied in a way we didn’t even see.

Before Elias died, he knew exactly how to keep them in line, being their father and all, but after he was gone, I see the rest of the Ghosts (especially new Captain Merrick) having to reign them in more than anticipated. With Elias being dead and Rorke still being a flaming cunt, they would struggle even more.

Keegan, Kick, hell even Neptune would have to participate in Operation: Keep The Boys Sanity Intact, because they certainly don’t have the mental bandwidth to do it themselves all the time (their brains are very FRESHLY fully developed…)

And I love that in game, Hesh has a specific monologue after Elias dies where he’s all calmly and solemnly stating that they’ll take over for their dad, finish the mission, etc. And yes they are grown ass men, been through a fuck ton of training…but let’s be so for real lmfao, that’s a lot to have on your plate for two dudes that are hardly cresting 30 years old.

I just think, aside from the few moments we see in game where they (Hesh lol) are loosing their shit a little, it’d be much more chaotic on a personal level than was shown.

I wrote something about the mentor/mentee dynamic I think Merrick would have with Hesh AFTER Logan’s taken, but I like to think he’d literally have double on his plate before Rorke snatched the baby off the beach.

I just like looking at both sides of the same coin. They grew up too fast, they’re no doubt traumatized, have been through extensive military training, and all the personal experience we see them gain….that definitely sobered them up real quick and knocked their maturity levels up several pegs.

But at the same time, I just don’t believe they’d always be that put together in the ways that we see, especially not compared to the more experienced elder Ghosts. Perhaps a sort of “we’re mature but you guys are seasoned” type of vibe.

And despite the only real description of Logan’s personality being that he’s a quiet, cold blooded killer, and an excellent soldier…bro is quite literally 26 years old and in the damn trenches, you can’t tell me he wasn’t routinely being a brat when he was able to be lol (babies of the family lock in!).

Even more interesting on Logan’s part, who would really be keeping him in line primarily when he acts up, pre or post Elias death…? Davey poo I’m afraid. And I think Hesh would get to a point where the weight of it all, plus keeping Logan in line and on the general right life path would have him tweaking.

Imagine having all that on top of you, then your dad dies, and your only surviving family is your clingy little brother…lmfao. Of course Logan is more than capable on his own as we can see in the game, but, and it’s been said before and will continue to be said, Hesh was parentified to the max. And it only becomes more clear when you read between the lines.

I just think in similar, but also their own separate ways, they’d be a little off their rocker sometimes. I like to imagine Keegan having the common fanon agreed bond with Logan, and helping him keep his eye on the prize, and I feel like Hesh would attach himself to Merrick (even older male authority figure, he lives and breathes the slivers of validation he’d get…)

And then there’s Kick…lol. In an unforeseen way, I imagine him being like a sort of glue in this scenario honestly. We don’t get much info on him, he’s hardly even in the damn game very much, but I think of him as being oddly very wise (not too far off since he’s not younger like the Walkers, but he’s probably not a whole lot older than Keegan/Ajax either) despite his nervous system being just as shot from fighting a war. He’d be like the cousin with some randomly sage advice for Hesh and Logan.

TLDR; the Walker brothers are frazzled, they need an Ativan, therapy, and a long winters nap

[hpdabbles]

The Empty Bottle

Harry Potter can say with certainty that he has seen a lot in his life, but he knows that he has not seen everything. In fact, he wonders how much he missed in the war he ended and how many lives he dismissed and failed to witness. There were times when the echoes of the war would play in his mind, catching him off guard, not only by the bad but by the good that slipped through his fingers while he struggled.

It would take him a minute to remember that it was all over. He had left the cupboard behind in the nightmares of his childhood; Tom Riddle lay dead, nothing more than ash in the wind, and he mourned those he lost but lived for those he kept safe.

He did everything he could to uphold the morals and expectations of a true Gryffindor. Not in some misguided ideal of house rivalry- he had outground such foolishness- but to honor the memory of those who adore the house.

He did it for his parents, godfather, werewolf uncle, grandfatherly headmaster, and mischievous brother-in-law. They were the ones who made him proud to wear his red tie and cheer for lions.

But he also met people who made him proud of the other three colors. He thought about the clever potion master whose bravery made him reconsider the evil of Slytherin. He thought about the woman who ran away from her family to be with the man she loved and now raised her godson due to losing both her husband and daughter. He thought of the mother who lied to protect him and her son.

He thought of the whimsical, loving girl who smiled even when harassed by bullies who did not bother to get to know her before passing judgment. He thought of a cheerful and kind boy who merely wanted to represent his school and life cut for being in the wrong place and time.

He thought of the different colored ties that decorated the floor after the fallen fifty bodies were gathered in the grand hall.

Sometimes, while taking breaks from Auror training, he would ponder what life would have been like to not be a Gryffindor. Would that have changed anything? Or would it all have been the same since he was Harry Potter and a prophecy had hung over his head long before his birth would decide that for him?

It was useless to focus on the What-ifs. He knew this. He spent his whole life wondering- what if my parents were alive?- and that was long before he knew of magic. There was nothing to gain from pondering them for too long.

Nothing at all.

He had a life to live—one that so many died to ensure he would experience. He would not let their sacrifice be in vain. Harry spent years trying to find peace with himself, to smile at family gatherings, to stop and watch the leaves fall off the trees, to feel the sun rest on his skin, and to simply breathe.

He learned to compliment his reflections and started to believe them for the first time in his life. He learned to stop and listen—truly listen—when asking someone about their day. He learned to lower his walls, to speak about his hardships so that the youth who gawked at him in the streets learned it was okay to ask for help.

Even heroes needed moments of weakness.

He married the woman who knew when his eyes turned dark with unknown horrors but still held his face in her warm palms to ground him. They built a home together where they used to hide from killers, twisting the rooms until only warmth reminded them.

She brought three wonderful buddles of joy for him, and sometimes, when he would sit outside, listening to the rain mixed with his children's laughter, Harry knew that if his story ended now, it would be a happy one.

The hero had done his duty, and now he rested. He had a really long life, but he was young in age, and sometimes Harry swore it was unfair. Yet other times, he felt content with the simple, quiet life. He was alive, but he would welcome death, as he did the day he marched into the forest toward Riddle with no regrets.

This is why, the day he woke to find a floating black dog made of smoke above his head, he only had a moment to reach out and gently kiss Ginny's face one last time before the Grim took its claim.

It was gentle and peaceful in the end, even as the dog gently bit down on his neck and carried his soul. He felt no pain, just relief—like gentle rain on his skin on a spring morning and the sense of complete and utter freedom. The Grim pulled his bodiless soul until they were back at the King Cross, where Harry reformed. This time, there was no crying baby, twinkling eyes, fear, or confusion.

Just a man walking alongside a dog, hand resting on the canine head as it leads him to a train. He knows he is to board, and with one finally pat on the Grim's head, he does so.

Harry finds a comfortable sit in first cart, sliding into the plush cushions with a sign. He stares out the window, watching the mist roll by as the train departs. The Grim is happily watching him go, black tail wagging, and Harry can't help but wave at it as the rattling of the tracks gains volume the faster the speed picks up.

For a moment, there is nothing to view. A part of Harry always assumed that the mist would clear once he left King Cross', breaking way into a beautiful foreign landscape like the once fantasies of a boy stuck in a cupboard used to dream about.

He chuckles at his assumptions, for what man can claim to understand death? He leans back into his seat, closing his eyes. There is a moment when he wonders how Ginny and his children will handle his death. It saddens him to know that they will suffer for his loss, but it was Harry's time.

James would start Hogwarts in only three months. He prays his eldest enjoys his time there, even with his father's death so fresh. Harry knows Hermione and Ron will ensure that Ginny gets help to take their son to the train and will be there for his tears just as they had been when Harry was James' age

His death was natural, he went in his sleep, and he was content with it. He hopes they will live on just as he had when he lost those he loved.

Harry's eyes snap open at the sound of a knock on the door of his compartment. Through the small window, he can barely make out the head of a small boy, nervously peaking up at him as though he was standing on his tiptoes to see. It reminds him of Albus whenever his son wanted Harry to read him a bedtime story but was too shy to ask, and it causes a smile to twitch onto his face.

"Come in," He calls, watching the child scramble to open the door. He nearly reels back at the sight of someone so young on this death train before he remembers that death knows no age limit.

The boy could be no older than nine- just like his Albus- and is dressed in a muggle hospital gown. His cheeks are hollow, his skin is unhealthy and pale, and the specific way he carries himself indicates weakness. Seeing as Harry is still wearing his pajamas, he can guess the boy passed in the hospital, likely due to illness.

"Hi, mister. Do you know where we are?" the child asks, his voice rising in an American accent. Harry isn't sure about the region, but he suspects it is somewhere south.

Harry smiles, patting the seat next to him. Without hesitation, the boy climbs up and sits down with a burst of energy that surprises him. "Yes. We're on a train heading to the Beyond."

"We aren't in a train." The boy giggles, putting the window that Harry is leaning on. "We're on a boat! What's the Beyond?"

Briefly, Harry wonders if everyone sees something different when coming to their deaths, but he doesn't correct the young boy. "You're right. Sorry, I was being silly. The Beyond is a surprise for everyone. We know when we get there."

"Is my momma there?" the boy asks with wide, sparkling eyes. I want to tell her I don't feel sick anymore!"

Harry's smile falters for a second. He is unsure if he should explain that they had died to someone so young, but something on his face must have given him away. The boy's dim, and he looks back to the window, watching the mist that Harry sees before he seems to shrink in on himself.

"Oh, I passed away. Momma is going to cry." He hunches his shoulders, and Harry suddenly wants to comfort him. Without much thought, he places a arm around the child's shoulders, bringing him into a hug that has the young child melting into him.

They stay like that for a moment; the only sound is the soft sniffs of the child who mourns his short life and the man who feels he lived long enough. Eventually, the child falls asleep, using Harry's lap as a pillow, small tears covering his face.

He wonders for the child's name as they travel, and a voice whispers into his head.

Hadrian Evans.

Strangely, he felt like he had known that his entire life.

Time moves on, and Harry loses count of it, watching hills of endless mist roll by. Hadrian stays by his side the entire time, sleeping peacefully and clutching his sleeve.

A second knock is made at his door a while later, which could have been minutes or hours. Harry turns to find a man wearing a train uniform waving at him. He's pushing the snack trolly, but rather than sweets and treats, there are various bottles.

"Good day," the man says, in Hadrian's accent. "It's time to choose. Can you wake up the kiddo?"

Harry wants to tell him no since Hadrian seems content with slumber, but something tells him not to question the stranger. He gently shakes Hadrian's shoulder, whispering, "Hadrian, love, time to get up."

The boy's face scrunches up before tiny blue eyes blink open. He makes a confused face at Harry, rubbing at his face, and the wizard's heart melts. He feels oddly parental towards the boy, in the same sense of love he would for his own children.

Harry thinks he would adopt him without a second thought if they had been alive.

The trolly man smiles wider, gesturing to his bottles as the boy finally notices him. Hadrian instantly clings to Harry's arm, seeking comfort from the wizard. "No need for that kiddo. Nothing to be afraid of. I'm just here to help you lads choose."

"Choose what?" Harry asks watching the man push in the trolly, the bottles clinking against each other. He notices that they resemble potions with various shapes and colors, but there are no labels. He isn't what any of them do.

"That's the fun part. You will know once you pick. You can just grab the three ones that seem best to you. Don't think too much-trust your gut." Trolly man chirps and something about his hand motions seems familiar in a way that scratches Harry's brain. Has he met him before?

Harry hesitates, but Hadrian reaches out for the long plum bottle that shimmers when he pulls it towards him. The bottle is almost as big as the boy's torso.

Hadrian giggles as it continues to shimmer and glow, likely never seen magic before. For some reason, Harry knows in his bones that Hadrian was born a muggle.

Then, the boy grabs a small blue bottle that is see-through enough to see the gold liquid inside. Finally, he picks up an empty bottle with a giggle.

The trolly man nods. "Good health. Good Wealth and Second Chance. Wonderful choices, Mr. Evans. Mr. Potter, if you please?"

Harry looks at all the bottles, ranking his eyes over the tall ones, the small ones, the shining ones, the glowing ones, and the ugly ones. Nothing really calls out to him because he hears his wife's lectures about not touching potions, and he does not know the effect of echoing in his mind.

Not only that, but none of them speak to him. None of them makes him want to reach out and grasp. That's not right. Deep in his soul, he knows he should want to grab three of the bottles, but he can't find out why.

He stares at the bottles, repeatedly focusing his eyes on them, trying to decide. The compartment falls silent as he tries to choose before Trolly Man sighs, pushing the cart away. "Again, you make my job so hard, Potter."

"Do I know you?" Harry asks, confused, as the trolly rolls out into the hall, vanishing into ash, all its bottles gone.

"Yes." The man rubs his hand down his face as if greatly inconvenienced. Harry waits for an explanation, but no one comes, and Hadrian plays with his bottles.

"From where?" He asks at last, unable to help himself.

One dark eye- utterly devoid of any features, just darkness. Harry reels back at the inhuman-looking gaze, clutching to Hadrian protectively- peaks at him through fingers. "You escaped me before, and my dog led you here."

Oh.

"Death." He breathes.

"Yes. It seems you escaped me again." Death sighs. "And to think you made it all the reincarnation bottles."

"The what?"

"Reincarnation Bottles. The ones you pick before Life crafts you a new body, and Fate uses the potions in them to create your luck of the draw. You, however, are not going to reincarnate. You would have been going back, but your body has expired, and unlike the killing curse, there was too much damage to fix for Life to put you back in. Guess you will spend all eternity here."

Death glances down at Hadrian with a gentle smile. "Kiddo here is going to stop at the next port."

"Why can't he come with me?" Hadrian pouts "Why does he have to stay?"

"He didn't get a bottle, kiddo."

"He can have one of mine!" Hadrian hands Harry the empty bottle. It's the size of his thumb and has a round golden bottle top. A rush of warmth runs through his body the moment he touches it. Death tilts his head considering before he snaps his figures.

At once, Harry watches as Hadrian goes from a small, sickly child to a healthy, angelic one with sunny curls that fall over his ears and wide blue eyes that gleam. There is a moment where Hadrian stares in wonder at himself before Harry starts to shrink and ends up at eye level with the surprised child.

Death grins. "If it's freely given, then the Second Chance can be transferred. Harry Potter, you will go back, but not as the Boy Who Lived. You will return as Hadrian Evans, an identity and a healthy body bestowed by a kind soul. Don't waste it."

Harry opens his mouth to demand a better explanation, but between one blink and the next, he vanishes into a bright light. He clutches his eyes closed, feeling his body, his soul, and his memories shift in a whirlpool of emotions.

He is Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Slayer of Voldemort, Father of Three, Husband of a Professional Quidditch Player, born and raised in England.

He is Hadrian Evans, a wizard of two Squibs. He was born and raised in America due to his American mother. He was sick all his life up until he was ten years old, when surgery saved his life. He moved to England after his father realized his son had developed magic.

Per tradition, despite not being allowed to carry his magical family name due to his Father's disownment for his lack of magic, Hadrian was to be sent to Hogwarts and permitted access to the family vaults. He was the last heir to the family bloodline, and his father's scorn family portraits would rather a Squib-mutt keep their line of work alive than let the family magic die out.

He is eleven years old and stands before the open door of a compartment Hogwarts Express in 1991, nervous and unsure of his place.

Both memories, personalities, and souls mix until Harry Potter takes over and realizes Death has allowed him to take over a version of Hadrian Evans's life in a similar timeline.

How does he know?

"Are you just going to stand there, or will you come in?" A young boy with red hair demands. Across from a boy with baggy clothes, untidy hair, and deep, deep green eyes staring back at him.

It's himself or a version of himself.

Harry gulps, licking his lips and gathering his thoughts. He smiles hesitantly. "Are you sure it's okay for me to sit here?"

"Of course. There's space enough," Other Harry Potter tells him with a shy smile, and he is suddenly hit with the reminder that he was once reserved and cripplingly socially awkward due to his treatment by the Dursleys. It's one thing to live through it, but to see the effects of abuse on a child is another thing.

"Thank you." He says, pushing in his trunk, memories of his parents helping him pack with childlike excitement flashing behind his eyes. Strange to think of the Evans as strangers and loving parents of eleven years all at once.

Despite the contradiction, he knows that should he ask if they will open their home to Harry due to suspected abuse, the Evans would have Harry's room painted and decorated long before he arrived at their house.

Both adults know what living with a family that hates you is like.

"My name's Hadrian Evans," He tells the boys, accepting the name in a second. He had lived as Harry Potter and had been comfortable with its end. But now he had a new beginning, and that was rather exciting.

"Ron Weasley. Cool accent. You from the States?"

Hadrian grins with a sudden rush for life that he has not felt in a long time. "Yeah, I am."

Ron's eyes widen as a soft blush develops over the top of his cheekbones, and Harry coughs into his fist, looking flustered. Confused, Hadrian tilts his head as Ron stutters about which Hogwarts House they like to get into, attempting to change the topic.

Harry admits to not knowing what that is, and thus, the redhead launches into a fast-paced explanation, grateful for the olive branch. Hadrian settles in his seat, smiling softly, watching the two children speak.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere brynden rivers vs aegor rivalry hcs? Hopefully this is okay since you're still accepting asoiaf requests

Honestly, considering their rivalry over Shiera, makes sense to me! There isn't much I could find of them as I think their tale is primarily in A World of Ice and Fire (Although Brynden/Bloodraven is technically in the main books). So this is entirely speculation and HC about the little I know of their rivalry. I apologize if some things are wrong.

This is more focused on Brynden Rivers than Aegor. If there is ways to write them both better, I'd love to hear them.

Yandere! Brynden Rivers vs Aegor Rivers

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Blood in two lines, Murder, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Mentioned/Implied Targcest, Mature themes, Mature language, Stalking, Imprisonment, Dubious relationship.

If you think about it, a similar thing has already happened in the books in canon.

Not the yandere bit, but the rivalry over a woman they both loved.

In canon, Brynden (Bloodraven) and Aegor (Bittersteel) fought over the love of Shiera.

All three were known as the great bastards of King Aegon IV.

Shiera was known to love Brynden, although Aegor loved her too.

The two ended up fighting in the first battle of the Blackfyre rebellion, both out of different allegiances and possibly jealousy.

How I'd write this idea is this;

You'd definitely take the role of Shiera (Regardless of gender for this concept, I'm just covering potential behavior for now).

I'm not saying you also have to be a great bastard, but somehow you take the role regardless of your relations with the two.

We can assume Brynden is very cunning, speculated to have planned everything to set up The Prince Who Was Promised.

He can put together plans well, he's also a known sorcerer who utilizes spies and spells.

Brynden is an albino with a birthmark similar to a raven, earning him the nickname "Bloodraven".

Aegor was another great bastard like Brynden, one who never got along with Brynden in the first place due to their mothers being part of warring families.

Not only that, but Aegor's mother was replaced with Brynden's mother for Aegon IV.

Safe to say Brynden has... reasons to be bitter.

Even more so when the two meet you.

The two become very fixated on courting you.

Something that only opens the rift between them larger.

The two have little interest in getting along.

They are rivals when it comes to the Iron Throne due to their blood, but that matters little to them.

All they seem to care about is fighting for your hand in marriage.

Drama would only increase if you actually loved one of them and not the other.

For example, going down the Shiera route, you love Brynden... which causes Aegor to grow more bitter and try even harder to show he's the better option.

Ever since the two saw you in the Red Keep, it was like there was a spark.

A spark that ignited adoration... and a raging fire that brings dangerous ambition that soon came after.

Aegor was a skilled warrior that became a hired mercenary in his time alive before being killed in another battle for the Blackfyre Rebellion.

Brynden is a sorcerer or spends most of his time planning and spying, he lives for a long time due to his magic and always makes sure things go to plan

I feel, regardless of if you love Brynden or not, he'd win you.

His experience in sorcery and his spies would certainly be enough to get rid of Aegor, if he didn't get rid of himself first.

I can see Brynden still adamant on you being his, yet he takes his time more.

When he was younger, before the Blackfyre rebellion, Brynden always felt jealousy towards Aegor.

Aegor felt the same, determined to take you for himself.

Aegor seems like he'd use brute force, while Brynden thinks more about planning.

The two often fought over you when they were young, yet they didn't try to kill one another until the first Blackfyre Rebellion.

Aegor sided with Daemon Blackfyre, while Brynden sided with Daeron II.

If you still wish to go down the Shiera route, Brynden probably joined Daeron II because you sided with the king.

If you sided with Daemon, then he probably would still try to pry you from Aegor's grip.

All while Aegor aims to slaughter the Bloodraven.

It doesn't matter what side you choose, or if you even pick a side, their first attempt on each other's life is with the death of Daemon Blackfyre.

It's in this fight that Aegor flees and Brynden comes back with one eye.

Blood is shed for the both of them, the red liquid coating one another before they part.

A nauseating sight for everyone involved.

If Aegor took you with him, Brynden plans ways to get you back into his own arms.

If Brynden took you, Aegor plans ways to drag you into exile with him... yet Brynden is more clever with his plans.

If you side with Aegor, he keeps you with him and founded the Golden Company.

Aegor would keep you safe beside him, promising to keep you from the Bloodraven.

Yet... even if you loved him... he still perishes in the end.

During another Blackfyre Rebellion battle, Aegor would pass in battle.

It's never specifically said, but I like to think Brynden planned this (for this concept) in an attempt to remove heirs to the throne... and take you back in this case.

You'd have men, spies, keeping an eye on your every move.

By the time Aegor dies, you're scooped back up and dropped at Brynden's feet with the help 

of Daeron II.

If you were with Brynden from the start, Brynden would just plot Aegor's demise before Aegor can make a move.

Truthfully, you were never intended to be Aegor's.

Not in Brynden's plans you weren't.

Brynden hopes you'll see that, especially when he tells you Aegor took his eye.

That outcast never deserved you in Brynden's thoughts.

Brynden makes sure his plan goes through, that you're his.

And you are his... for years.

No kidnapping needed, not if he plays his cards right.

Even then, it won't be hard to frame you... especially if you sided with the Blackfyres....

Brynden would imprison you if it meant you two could be a pair.

He's a convincing man.

You'd be Brynden's until he himself is exiled by King Aegon V.

Even then he'd still want you by his side... he'd keep you alive with magic just like he does himself...

Before you even know it, Brynden has planned out everything between you...

He won't have anyone take you from him, everything must go to plan, and in the end he knows he'll have you someday... not Aegor.

[wispforever]

Some thoughts on Itachi

So, I've seen a lot of comments circulating about my tags on this post, and I'm intrigued at the interest. I didn't expect it, as I see much more pigeonholing of Itachi's character than honest to god analysis. No hate- I'm no stranger to Kishimoto's writing. Some of his characters were unfortunately butchered or never given the chance to be developed properly, and Itachi is most certainly no exception. That said, I like to grant him a bit more nuance than I see on most blogs. I think people get a little wrapped up in the supposed "moral implications" of exploring how Itachi was also a victim of the system, as well as someone who victimized many people. But it's silly to equate character analysis and context consideration with condoning genocide.

I have a good laugh every once and a while at the metaphorical gymnastics people do in order to stay in the good graces of a bunch of internet trolls who are just Waiting for any opportunity to tell you you love murder and think it's delicious just because you made a post exploring a character's background. Media is grey; it's layered and wonderfully complex. There are many wrongs and rights in every story, and many wrongs and rights within those wrongs and rights. That's what I love about Naruto. Often times it's really too much like real life. Instead of people being black and white, right or wrong, bad or good- they're usually in a tough situation, trying their best and falling short, don't have all of the information, acting with good intentions or acting on what they believe will bring about a lesser evil, and then end up hurting others.

But it is much easier to assign blame and move on. A so-called bad person will always be the perfect scapegoat for issues bigger than them. In Itachi's case, the fascist government in the Leaf. It's easier to say Itachi could have just refused and decided not to be involved, than to recognize that like almost every other character in the narrative, he was under extreme duress, living in a military state. He was a child whose existence, along with all the other children and adults in the Leaf, was only valuable as long as he could serve as a tool for the war machine in the shinobi world's fucked up political system. And saying this is not the same as saying he was not capable of better decisions or that everything that he did thereafter or in general should not be read critically or subject to hypothetical consequences. It is the same as a saying his actions cannot be fully understood without complete context, and the themes of Naruto will never come through if every villain is just "evil" with no further nuance. And it would be boring too LOL

That said, I love to think about Itachi's situation back then. The ages in Naruto are a bit muddled, a little inconsistent, subject to change and interpretation, but Itachi was a child when he murdered everyone in the Uchiha compound. Most sources say he was 13. It should go without saying that someone so young isn't capable of the same decision-making or critical thinking as say, a 30-year-old, someone whose brain is finished developing and has much more experience on Earth.

Itachi's experience at this point in his life is informed by his age, and it's obviously informed by his childhood, as he has no other place from which to draw conclusions. Itachi grew up in a warring state. He saw people die and was subject to extreme violence in his formative years. To make matters worse, he was taught that war was inevitable and the only thing he could do to guard against it was kill others before they got the chance to kill him (threaten the village). Thusly, Itachi internalized at a very young age that what was in his power was to minimize damage (to himself, to his village, and to the world). What was not in his power was to stop this violence entirely (by adopting a critical mindset and going against fascist powers).

A part of this I think people often forget is that Itachi has absolutely nowhere to adopt this mindset FROM, as even though his father and the other members of the Uchiha clan seek equity in the Leaf, if they were to overthrow the Hokage and create a new system, it would still presumably center around the same ideals (minus, of course, the oppression of the Uchiha as a group). Fugaku is the head of the Uchiha clan at this time. As someone who imposed near impossible performance-related expectations on both of his sons, and withheld love and affection whenever they came up short (so often that it was at the cost of having any considerable emotional bond with either of them), there is absolutely no good reason to believe that Fugaku would reform the Leaf using a non-fascist ideology. And if he did, there is no good reason to believe that he would be some kind of visionary LMAO

This is important to remember because when it comes down to Itachi's decision to either kill everyone in the Uchiha compound and his family, or be part of the coup that would overthrow the Leaf, some people treat it as though it's a choice between fascism and non-fascism, which it most certainly is not. And if it was, Itachi, as a child who had grown up immersed in this ideology, would not be able to appreciate the difference. This context allows us to understand further what Itachi was really weighing in that moment. Accounting for his young age and limited worldview, the only valuable difference in this moment to Itachi was the amount of bloodshed that he would "allow" to happen. Essentially, he sees the options as follows:

Either give in to Danzo and kill everyone in the Uchiha compound, or facilitate a coup where the current government is (hopefully) overthrown and risk starting another war.

Here, Itachi pauses. He has known war. He knows how it affects children, adults, families, and whole nations. The peace he's living in currently is bought with blood, but it's the only peace he's ever known. The alternative is horrifying. And a war in this context, Itachi likely thinks, would be his fault, as he has now been put in the position to "prevent" it. Danzo and the whole shinobi system have groomed him into thinking so. Itachi, at age 13, cannot understand that there would be no war; it exists only as leverage for Danzo's argument at this point. His sensitivities are being played on.

Fugaku, though he is not the same as Danzo, offers about as much help as he does (that being none). Fugaku has no interest in avoiding war; if a war breaks out, it's justified because it will still mean his clan will no longer be living in oppression. This idea is valid, as fascist systems and discrimination can only cease to exist when we rise up against them; unfortunately, this most often calls for righteous violence, as the oppressive powers will not be moved with peaceful shows (not to mention they are willing to go to extreme lengths to avoid losing their hold on the people they have crushing power over, i.e. the Uchiha massacre). But Fugaku has no words to explain this to Itachi, who fears the worst and further fears being responsible for the worst. All he does is act as if it's a moral failing that his 13-year-old son is unwilling to stage a coup, which he believes could mark the abrupt end of a peace that's only just begun.

That said, let it be known that Itachi does appreciate this situation with SOME nuance, though it isn't of the kind that might have enabled him to see he was being manipulated. He at the very least understands that Danzo is a warmonger and oppresses those he fears (the Uchiha). He understands that the rights of his clan have been sorely disrespected, and that the issue needs correction. He understands the anger of his friends and family. This is why it takes him much deliberation before he can even come close to making a decision. He plays both sides right up until the end, listening to Danzo, as well as Fugaku and Shisui, paying attention to the current atmosphere in the Leaf as he tries to decide.

It is something he doesn't want to do. Here's where I get to the part I put in the tags of my drawing.

In this situation, it's almost worthless to write an analysis about Itachi's feelings at this time, his understanding of what was actually going on, his loyalty to his clan or his loyalty to the Leaf, because really, he could not grasp it. He was never prepared for this. He never knew he would be asked to make a decision he could only understand as "your family or the world?"

Itachi was put in a position that had no happy ending. There was no decision he could make that would not hurt. That could not result in a cataclysm that split him right down the middle. There was no version of this story that a 13-year-old could carry out thinking "I have done the right thing."

And that's the important part. Both sides asked him to make this decision, and so both sides are guilty of placing an immeasurable pressure on a child who should never have been put in such a position. Regardless of ideology, regardless of price, regardless of oppression or loyalty or devotion or any other thing- someone else should have made this decision for Itachi. Someone else should have been responsible. An adult, at the very least. Someone who COULD understand the implications of both options. Someone who COULD go forward and appreciate the evil of fascism and know that a coup was necessary. Itachi was never capable of such a thing. If he made the "wrong" decision, than every child who can't explain to you what a fascist government in a military state looks like and explain what the difference is between a hate crime and resisting a hateful power, is also wrong. Here is the nuance. These are things a 13-year-old in this universe cannot be expected to understand unless they are taught. And Itachi had no teacher. Quite the opposite. There were only forces pressing him from both sides, saying "choose."

Had his father done this for him, had Shisui been in this position, had any other adult Uchiha acting as a spy been put to this task, it would be a much different narrative. But of course, it had to be Itachi, who Danzo knew he could manipulate. It had to be a child, someone skilled enough to do the job, but inexperienced enough, afraid enough, to be willing to sacrifice everything they had to see the mission through. Someone you could whisper "greater good" to and have them hand over their well being on a plate. Someone who didn't understand they had the power and strength to destroy the system threatening them.

On a narrative level, Itachi exists to illustrate this point. How young people are systematically indoctrinated to serve a greater purpose, be it under a specific government, religion, or otherwise. We see it in real life fascism, in real life cults. There's no mistake. It isn't an accident that Itachi's story begins like this.

Which brings me to the rest of his life. The reason I drew the picture in the post referenced at the top. Itachi's character is a bit of a mystery the rest of the anime. Be that because of bad writing or an intentional omission, his motives, thoughts, and opinions are largely left ambiguous. However, there are still a few moments that interest me as far as the implications of his development.

When Itachi first comes back to the Leaf village, he faces Kakashi. On the one hand, this could simply be a narrative tool- the big bad meets the big good. He takes Kakashi out of commission! The first rogue shinobi we see who is able to defeat the pillar of the Leaf, the Copy Ninja, and without even breaking a sweat!

On the other hand, I find the brutality of Itachi's attack very intriguing. Again, it could be the tough guy act, but he's able to keep three jonin busy easily using standard genjutsu (with the help of Kisame). It wouldn't be a stretch to say that using the tsukuyomi is overkill, and at a considerable price, we learn later.

Why then would Itachi, who has been shown to have excellent battle intelligence, who is strategic to a fault, be willing to jeopardize his health among other things just to... scare the Leaf? Make sure Kakashi wouldn't be a nuisance in the future? Sure, the last one would make collecting Naruto less complicated, but they dispatched Kakashi easily enough, and surely Jiraiya, who Naruto was with at the time, would pose a bigger problem than Kakashi.

It doesn't make strategic sense, which makes me wonder if Itachi has a special animosity toward Kakashi. Being his superior in the ANBU before the Uchiha massacre, someone who was willing to conduct surveillance of the Uchiha compound without question, Kakashi could have become a symbol of the indifference of the Leaf for Itachi. He could very well have been a reminder of the inoperable position Itachi was put in when he was still a child, and Kakashi, of course, was an adult. Another adult who did nothing. Noticed nothing. Did not help Itachi.

And while I'm certain that Kakashi would have taken severe issue with the goings on in the Leaf at that time, judging by his reaction when he finds out the truth in Shippuden, Itachi knows him only by what he did then. Facilitated surveillance of the Uchiha compound, was a supportive superior, but nothing greater. A bystander whose compassion, while well meaning, was entirely unhelpful.

I don't think it's far fetched that Itachi fucking crucified Kakashi because he was so angry at what being in the Leaf did to him. At some point, as he got older, he realized how terrible it was. He realized there were people like him. Children who were "born killers". Pawns in the game of the shinobi powers.

After leaving the village, Itachi joins the Akatsuki, who are also seeking peace through war (another story). He is supposed to spy for them, but doesn't follow through in any enthusiastic way (that we're shown). He works alone for quite some time, or else with a group (briefly he was shown with Conan and Kakuzu). He is partners with Orochimaru before he's expelled from the Akatsuki. He is partners with one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. He grows up and meets many people, sees lots of stories unfold. He learns that he isn't in a minority. Many shinobi are just like him.

And then, as an adult, he is partnered with Kisame, who he finds excellent camaraderie with because of their similar backgrounds. We see in this relationship that he understands what happened to him and what he did enough to acknowledge that, while neither of them are monsters, as many people say, they are human. And humans make mistakes. Humans are complicated. Wrong and right and wrong and right. They understand each other, and Itachi understands more clearly what the world puts these children up to. What it forces shinobi to become. That it isn't all his fault, but he still did it. And so he is responsible. He appears to be able to live with that.

But when he returns to the Leaf, those feelings bubble up. He hates the Leaf. He hates that system. He hates what he did. Maybe he even hates being a shinobi, how his excellence was weaponized, how being an Uchiha doomed him and his clan. And for what?

Itachi is played as a character who is only sensible, only logical, only interested in practical things, has nothing to express. But the way he behaves toward Kakashi in that moment bares all his grief and anger. I just like to think about it. We have so few moments where we get to see Itachi genuinely. The fight with Kakashi, the Sasuke/Deidara fight, his thoughtful moments with Kisame. Just makes me wonder what could've been if Itachi's story had gone a little differently.

Anyway, if anyone would like me to expand on any points or has additional thoughts, feel free to hop in my ask box or leave a comment. Thanks for the interest, I love to talk.

[xanqels]

Make Daddy Proud.

joel miller x f!reader

Pairings: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel have never gotten along, so what happens when you come to his house and piss him off?

word count: 5.1k

warnings: size kink (reader is small and joel is a big boy) dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie, breeding kink, cursing, foul language, reader likes to play on joels’ nerves, spanking, hair pulling, fingering, oral (m receiving), choking, alcohol consumption, unsafe p in v (wrap before you tap), pet names, joel is daddy, cum eating (?), tommy ships, minor spit use, brief aftercare, age gap (joel is mid 50s, reader is late 20s), degradation. NO USE OF Y/N!!! ellie is mentioned, sarah is mentioned. slight angst. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me after my writers block. this is based off of an ask i was sent. this has not been edited‼️

————————————————————————-

Joel Miller.

A dangerous man, a killing machine. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head if you looked at him the wrong way. A man who aged like fine wine, and along with it his attitude towards the world soured. A grumpy man.

You met him one evening, the weather starting to cool, when Tommy called you over and introduced you to his brother. Maria didn’t seem to thrilled about the older Miller brother coming to stay, and it was written on her face. You’d known her long enough to spot the telltale signs of her upset and and disapproval. A small frown line on her dark skin, or the way her eye would twitch slightly.

Tommy, on the other hand, a smile on his lips. His estranged brother was alive and well, after all. Who wouldn’t be happy? Well, Joel, it would seem. A scowl on his weathered face, covered in deepened wrinkles, something any normal young lady may see and scarper away at the sight of, but not you. No, you were intrigued. You wanted to hear more about his troubles, his experience on the outside, but when you opened your mouth to greet him, he merely grumbled at you. Thus, starting a month long war of snide remarks and quick insults, immature snipes at each other just to wind the other up. He’d open up to you on the occasional dark night, after many whiskeys and the occasional hug, but by the next day you’d be back to bickering.

The pair of you couldn’t be in the same room without your quick tongue and his dark scowls ruining whatever good day the other had. Tommy was tired of it. Tired of the bickering, tired of the pettiness. He knew you found Joel attractive, he could see it in your eyes the first day he introduced you to him. The way your eyes swallowed him whole, the way your tongue swiped across your bottom lip as you took him in. You’d never admit it though, you were too proud.

As for Joel, on the other hand? He never showed much emotion, he was a tough cookie. If you’d known him before the world went to shit, you’d know he was a carpenter. A lively soul with a daughter of his own. And now? He was closed off, only talking to Tommy, you, Maria and Ellie, the young girl he ended up hauling around with him, or that’s how he puts it. And on the odd occasion, the bartender who serves him his favourite beverage – Whiskey, neat.

“Shove off, Miller.” You whine, pushing his large frame slightly as you try to take seat. “You’re taking up the whole booth, fatass.” You grumble as he rolls his eyes and moves further into the booth. You sit across from Tommy, Maria beside him as you give them both a warm smile.

You can hear Joel grumble beside you, but you brush him off. You take a sip of your drink, grimacing as the liquid burns it’s way down your throat and into your stomach. You notice Maria has a tall glass infront of her, raising an eyebrow. “Only water tonight, Maria?” You ask, and she nods.

“On patrol tomorrow morning.” She sighs. “So, can’t really be dealing with a hangover. Need to keep my mind clear.” She taps her head with her index finger, and Joel just scoffs.

“That’s some pussy shit.” He says, earning a glare from both you and Maria. Tommy was in his own world, watching Cameron and Pete arm wrestle at the bar, secretly rooting for Cameron. “You gotta learn how to handle your drink better, Maria. Heck, I even take a bit of whiskey with me on the days I am on patrol. Keeps ya warm.” He shrugs as he takes a sip.

“Just because you drink like a fish doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.” He frowns at that, but you continue. “Next time you fear you might get cold on patrol, dress up warmer. Don’t want you freezing to death now, do we cowboy?” You pat his shoulder in a faux friendly manner.

“There’s only so many clothes a man can put on his body, darlin’.” You like that nickname, “darlin’”. Though sarcastic, it warms you, electrifies your loins and leaves you wanting more. “Gotta let the whiskey warm ya from the inside.”

You scoff, silently mocking his words with your face screwed up. You loved and hated the game you’d play. “I’d expect an old man like you to have more sweaters, Miller.” You circle the rim of your glass with your index finger. “I see you flaunting around town in your shirts and flannels. I know they’re not thick enough to keep you warm. Just an excuse for you to drink on the job, I’d say.”

“I’m not an old man.” Joel scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just young and clearly have no knowledge of the world. Not my fault you’re so naive.” He speaks, swirling the liquid around in his glass, avoiding eye contact with you.

You close your mouth for a moment before opening it again, a single syllable falling out of your mouth as you were just about to tear Joel a new one, you weren’t naive, but Tommy cuts you off with a laugh and a cheer. Obviously, Cameron had won.

He turns back to the table, his eyes immediately scanning yours and Joels faces. He frowns. “God, are y’all bickering again?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You feel like a child being scolded. “You two just need to bone it out or something.” He earns a smack to the arm from Maria for that. “I’m just sayin’! These two bicker like there’s no tomorrow. It’s getting past a joke now.” He grumbles, finishing his last dregs of his now room-temperature whiskey.

You sit back in the booth, arms folded and pouting. Joel just rolls his eyes, but chuckles to himself at your scowl. He pats your head in faux sympathy. “Cheer up, Doll. I’m sure Uncle Tommy didn’t mean to scold you.” He coos, and that only annoys you more.

You smack his hand away, annoyance written across your features. “Piss off. You’re not my daddy, Joel.”

“I could be.” He says audible only for you, grinning. “All you have to do is say the magic word, and I’m all yours, darlin’.”

You look in his eyes, and for a moment you think he could be serious. A dark glint behind those deep brown eyes. Something resembling lust, a fire, a yearning for more, but that glint flickers away as his grin grows wider until it turns into him laughing. A hearty laugh, a laugh that could warm your soul.

“God, give in, Joel!” You push him again, but he only laughs harder. It only annoys you more, and you end up having yet another grumble in your seat over it.

“Oh for gods sake, what did I just say?” You hear Tommy shout at the pair of you for bickering again, and that brings a smile to your lips.

It was late when the four of you walked home, with Joel being the first to leave the group, and you being the last. And it wasn’t long after that for you to get changed into an oversized grey shirt and some old fabric shorts. They were old, tatted and had holes in a few areas, but they were comfy and you were thankful to even have clothes to sleep in.

You lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, the slight buzz of the alcohol in your system making you sleepy, but the thoughts running through your head kept you wide awake. You knew Joel was just being grumpy when he said you were naive. You weren’t naive, you’ve been through the exact same shit he has with the Cordyceps infection that ravaged everything you ever knew and stood for. It upset you, the fact he thought so lowly of you, the fact he thought you didn’t know any better than him.

The upset swirled in your stomach, half of turning into anger at his stupidity. If he’d ever taken the time out of his day to actually have a half-decent conversation with you, aside from those late-night drunken talks he usually forgot, he’d realise you’re not naive at all.

The anger bubbled inside of you, until you find yourself out of your bed and storming down stairs, throwing on the first coat and pair of shoes you could find. You set out onto the dimly lit streets of Jackson. You needn’t worry about locking your door, everyone knew the rules and the consequences and wouldn’t dare set foot wrong.

You found your feet dragging you towards Joel’s house, your mind had no control over your body at this point. You were determined to prove him wrong, to show him you weren’t naive. And that’s how you ended up banging on his front door, impatiently tapping your foot against his porch.

You were actually surprised when he opened the door, his hair all scuffed up, eyes squinted slightly as he rubbed sleep out of them.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice gruff and deep with sleep. You’d obviously just woken him up. He yawns, leaning against his door frame in nothing but a pair of plaid pyjama pants. God, he was so attractive, if you weren’t mad at him you’d jump his bones right now. His tanned skin, marked with scars and evidence of his battles. It stirred something in you, he stirred something in you.

He clears his throat, and you snap out of it, eyes darting up to his. He has his eyebrows raised, dark iris’ boring into yours. You shuffle slightly, swallowing thickly. “You really upset me.”

He groans, rolling his eyes. “Chin up, Darlin’.” He sighs, running a hand through his ragged hair. “Can’t we talk about this tomorrow? I gotta get my sleep.” He yawns, moving back into his house slightly as he goes to shut his door, but you place your foot in the gap and push it open.

You step inside, shaking your head. “No, Joel. I can’t sleep. You said I was naive, what do you mean by that?” You ask, and he just grumbles to himself as he shuts the door behind you. Obviously, you weren’t leaving anytime soon, and you’d just made your mind up then and there, and Joel had no say in the matter.

He laughs, thinking you’re messing with him. His laugh falters as he sees the look on your face, pitiful and innocent. His smile turns into a frown, furrowing his brows. “You’re not serious are ya?” He chuckles nervously. “C’mon darlin’, I was only messing with you.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t cool. I’ve been through just as much shit as you have, Joel. You can’t just take my experience for granted.” You speak, folding your arms across your chest.

“You’ve had it easier than the rest of us.” He looks away from you, avoiding your gaze. “You haven’t dealt or even seen half of the shit I’ve gone through. The things I’ve had to do just to survive, the looks on peoples faces I’ve had to endure.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Joel.” You take a step forward, his eyes darting back down to yours again. “Just because you lost Sarah doesn’t mean you can disregard everyone else’s experience. We’ve all been through the same shit.” You regret saying that immediately.

That statement, the mention of Sarah. It’s like it clicks a switch in his mind, his face warps into something you’ve ever seen before, pure disdain. Pure anger. You can see his nostrils flare as he takes in deep breaths, and his chest rising and then falling. You’re both somewhat afraid and oddly aroused.

“How fucking dare you?” His voice stone cold, jaw stiff as he steps towards you, backing you against the front door, pointing at you as his tall, stoic frames completely engulfs yours. You wince, turning your face away from his as his hot breath hits your cheek. “You do not mention her name in my house. You do not mention her name at all, you don’t deserve to even speak her name.”

Tears prick your eyes, you feel so ashamed of yourself. You’ve hit a new low, you’ve stooped to a new level, all because he called you naive. You brought up the ghosts of his past, the things he has nightmares about that leave particularly dark circles under his eyes, the thing he often drinks to forget. No wonder he’s angry at you.

“Joel.. I’m sorry.” You whimper, giving him big doe eyes. He just tuts and shakes his head.

“Stupid. Stupid naive girl. You need to be taught some manners.” He’s suddenly calm, or atleast calmer, and you don’t get to question it, his hand wraps around your waist and he’s dragging you into the main room, switching the lamp on. He sits himself down on the two-seater leather couch, and you look at him confused.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He speaks, and you’re even more confused. You’re stood inbetween his legs, his hand caressing your face. Have you just stepped into another dimension? His mood swings are confusing, but he’s so fucking handsome. “Why don’t you apologise to Daddy properly, hm?”

And there it is, the burning hot feeling in your stomach, the desperation to be touched, manhandled, anything. He manoeuvres you into his lap, your crotch ontop of his, hands gripping your waist. He glides your coat off your shoulders, throwing it onto the other side of the room. You shiver, goosebumps raising on your arms from your loss of warmth, your heart beating a million miles an hour as he leans in.

“You gon’ be good for Daddy?” He asks, his texan drawl coming out in full force as he leans towards your neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along it. You whimper at the feel of his warm, plump lips against your cold skin, unable to answer him until he’s nipping and sucking at your jawline.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You sigh out, and he seems not to mind your answer, rather he seems intrigued by it. He pulls away, eyebrows raised.

“That so?” He tilts his head, his right hand coming up to grip your face, making you look at him. “I’m not afraid to show you who’s boss, Doll.” His fingers buried in your cheeks, his eyes full of intensity. You think you broke him. “You crossed a line.”

“I know I did, and I’m sorry.” You choke out, tears still pricking at your lash line. “Please.” You beg, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. He releases your face from his grip, smiling to himself. His hands grip your waist again, and he leans back, eyes scanning your fragile form. He hums.

“You’re a sight to see.” He growls softly, gently grinding you against his crotch. You whine at the feeling as he repeats it once, twice until you feel his cock harden against you. You don’t even have to see it to know it’s big.

He leans forward, lips connecting to your neck again as he guides you, but he soon finds he doesn’t have to as you take control yourself. You gently grind against his clothed cock, whining at the friction as your sleep shorts catch on your clit. He leaves a sloppy trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses against your neck, and you can’t believe this is happening.

He pulls away, lips glistening with saliva in the light. You don’t stop until his hands hold you in place. You look up at him, confused. His pupils are blown out, eyes full of lust and desire, hunger for you.

“Think you’re ready to apologise?” He strokes your hair and you nod. “Don’t take long to break ya.” You roll your eyes at that, unable to muster up a witty comeback, and he pulls your hair. You moan at the feeling, the pleasure going straight to your weeping pussy. “None of that now, Darlin’. Alright?” You hum, and he gently pushes you off his lap.

He stands up, towering over you as he points to the floor, and you kneel down. He nods, happy with your submission. He bends down slightly, cupping your face in his hand. “You know what I want?” You nod, tongue poking out to wet your lips. He stands back up. “Good.”

Your hands are quick, scrambling to grip his waistband, as you pull down his plaid bottoms slowly, not knowing what to expect.

But then you see it. It’s angry red tip, weeping with precum and you just know he hasn’t had something like this in a while. His own hand? Maybe, but not another woman. It’s girthy, and has a considerable length to it, maybe seven inches? If not slightly more. It’s definitely going to be a stretch, a burn, something for you to gag and choke all over, but you’re almost certain he’ll hit those right spots with it. The spot you struggle to reach with just your fingers.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His voice pulls you out of your trance, and you wonder how long you’ve been looking at it, drooling over it. “You gon’ open your mouth for me, Doll?” He holds his cock at the base, waiting patiently for you to open your mouth.

You shuffle slightly, placing your own hand around his cock as you open your mouth and lean forward. His precum spreads across your tongue, salty and slightly bitter, but you don’t mind, rather quite the opposite. You hear him groan as your warm mouth and wet tongue take him, moving your head down slowly, only getting to about halfway before your gag reflex starts to kick in. You stop, pulling back and repeating the same motions, only managing to fit about half of his cock in.

At some point, he grows slightly impatient, taking his hands and placing them on the back of your head. He holds you in place as he thrusts forward, the entire length of his cock gliding down your throat. You gag at the intrusion, eyes filling with tears again, but you focus on him. The way your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen, the way he smells. You want to make a mental image of this, remember and cherish it forever lest you forget it.

He gently pulls you back, repeating the action multiple times. Tears roll down your cheeks as he fucks your face, head feeling slightly dizzy as he depraves you of oxygen. He moans, and you can feel his cock throbbing in your throat. He tears your head away from him, groaning softly as he wraps his hand around the head of his cock, staving off his orgasm.

You gasp for air, coughing and spluttering slightly as you come back down, wiping your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.

You okay?” You hear him speak, sounding slightly out of breath. You nod, wiping the drool from your chin. Your pussy was aching by this point, you just wanted to be filled by him, to be fucked relentlessly til you didn’t know your own name.

He helps you up, ever the gentleman he is, and sits himself back down on his couch. He removes your sleep shorts, and then your shirt, manoeuvring you back into his bare lap. His eyes scan your body, now naked and in all its glory. He groans at the sight, hand coming up to pinch your hard nipple.

You sigh at the feeling. “How many fingers can you take?” He asks.

“Two.”

“Two what?”

“Two, Daddy.” Your cheeks flush. He holds his hand up next to yours, and your fingers are nothing compared to his.

Yours a thin, nimble and fragile. His are calloused, thick and long. “Only two?” He asks, incredulous and you nod.

He furrows his brows, bringing the pad of his thumb to his lips, swiping his tongue along it. He reaches down, placing his thumb on your clit, rubbing in small circles. You moan, hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

“Just makin’ sure you’re wet enough.” He knew he didn’t need to, he could see you practically dripping on his lap, but he just wanted to hear you moan.

He pulls his hand away and you frown, until you see him sucking on his index and ring finger. He pulls his fingers out, examining them in the light before giving you a look, and you nod. He was asking if you were ready.

He brings his hand down, gently pushing his two fingers into your tight pussy. You cry out at the dull burn, but underneath the burn you could feel the heat, the need growing for him. He lets out an audible sigh, he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers, stretching you open for him.

“Oh, Joel.. Fuck.” You moan, squealing when you feel his calloused hand smack against your arse. You whine, frowning at him. He just shakes his head.

“Wrong. Try again.” He stills his fingers inside of you, they’re just nudging that sweet spot you’d been unable to find yourself.

You groan as you wriggle in his arms, trying to get him to move. “Fuck, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You beg. “Please, Daddy.”

It seems to appease him, as he’s soon fucking you wide open with his fingers again. He makes a ‘coke here’ motion with his fingers, and you’re sure you can see stars.

Your nails dig into his broad shoulders as he hits that spot, throwing your head back. He takes this to his advantage, leaning in and sloppily leaving kisses along your collar bone.

“Fuck, Daddy I’m gonna cum.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. I haven’t said you can yet.” He grumbles against your skin.

You try to hold off, but the pleasure is so overwhelming. He’s hitting that spot again and again, purposely rubbing up against it even though you’re struggling. You can’t hold on.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” You cry out, and to your mercy he allows you to ride through it.

It’s quite possibly the best orgasm you’ve had. Your jaw goes slack, and you feel as though you’re having an outer body experience. You can feel it in every crevice of your body, on every inch of your skin. It’s incredible, you never knew you could feel this good.

You slump forward, resting on Joel’s shoulder as you come back to planet earth. You’re still panting by the time you come to.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He tuts, and the sound sends chills down your spine. “Didn’t I tell you not to cum?” He slowly pulls his fingers from your pussy, and you jolt, the movement sending aftershocks through your body.

You sit up, strands of hair sticking to your forehead as you meet Joel’s eyes. They’re angry, but still full of lust. You disobeyed him, and now you’re gonna have to suffer the consequences.

He lifts his fingers up, examining them in the light again. “Look at that.” He grins, your slick gleaming in the light. You’re embarrassed, you made that mess. You’re surprised when he places them in his mouth and sucks them clean. He shuts his eyes momentarily, giving you an exaggerated moan. “You’re delicious, Doll.” He says as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. You truthfully don’t know what to say, but it seems as though Joel didn’t plan on you speaking anyway. He practically pushes you off him onto the seat next to him. He stands up, rolling you over on your stomach.

You can’t see what he’s doing, until his hand connects with your ass. You yelp out, fingernails digging into the leather.

“This is for cumming without my permission.” He speaks. “Dirty little slut. Can’t even wait for her daddy’s orders, hm?” He asks, spanking your ass again and again until you’re certain he’s left a bright red handprint.

Every slap he gives sends waves of pleasure to your pussy, and you can’t believe you’re enjoying this.

His hand reaches up, wrapping itself in your hair as he pulls your face up, he leans towards you. “You gon’ listen to me?”

You nod. “Yes Daddy, I promise.”

He wipes the tears running down your cheeks, and honestly you hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying. He plants a kiss to the side of your temple, a simple gesture that shocks you.

He flips you over again and climbs in-between your legs. You watch as he places your legs on either side of his waist, and begins to gently stroke his cock.

You can feel yourself desperate for him again, even the simplest of his movements turn you on.

He holds his hand out infront of your face. “Spit.” He commands, and you do. He wipes the spit on his cock, even though he doesn’t need to as you’re wet enough, but he enjoys it when you do what you’re told.

You gasp as you feel the smooth head of his cock against your tight hole, biting your lip as he pushes into you.

The stretch hurts more than his fingers, but it was expected. He’s thick. You scrunch your face up as he pushes into you, and you hear him sigh as he bottoms out. You open your eyes, lifting your head up slightly to see where you’d connected at the seams. A holy sight, a gorgeous sight. You’d take a picture and frame it on your wall if you had a camera.

He reaches up and caresses your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. You open your lips slightly and he slides his thumb into your mouth.

You suck on his thumb as he starts to pull out, slowly, before slamming back into you. Your tits jiggle at the force, and he seems to find that somewhat amusing.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He coos. “Gonna make you my little cum slut.” You moan around his thumb.

His pace is slow at first, almost as though he doesn’t want to break you, but he soon picks up the pace. Your mouth falls open as sweet melodies fall from your lips, and he trails his hand down to your neck. He wraps his hand around, gently squeezing your neck as he fucks you, hard.

You feel as though you’re on cloud nine, your mind is spinning as he fucks into you. You don’t even care that you’re sweating so much you’re practically glued to the leather, or the fact he’s nearly depriving you of oxygen for the second time tonight. You’re just focused on the way his cock feels, the way it hits that sweet spot and nudges your cervix. A pleasurably painful sensation.

He removes his hand from your throat, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks on it, gently pulling it with his lips before letting it go. He plants opened mouth kisses along your salty skin, sucking and nibbling at the soft spots on your neck. There’ll be marks tomorrow.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans. “I’m gon’ ruin you for any other man. You’re mine, you hear?” He growls against your skin.

You cry out, arching your back slightly as you feel the leather rip from your skin. “I’m yours, Daddy.” If someone told you that you’d be in this situation five hours ago, you would’ve laughed in their face.

You can feel it starting to grow again. The fire in the pit of your stomach, the wave that grows ever larger before it crashes.

He can tell you’re close again, the way your pussy strangles his cock. It makes him desperate to feel you cum around his cock. “You gon’ cum sweet girl?” He sounds breathless, almost as though he’s on edge himself. His thrusts are growing slightly more erratic.

You can’t reply, you just nod. He brings his free hand down to rub your clit, rubbing circles into it.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You manage to make out, face scrunching up as the intensity of it builds.

“Cum for me, Doll. Strangle my cock.” And you do just that.

Your pussy pulsates around his cock, legs shaking as you reach your high. Your mouth falls open in yet another silent scream, and he fucks you through it. Your head feels so light, you feel as though you’ve reached new highs, reached new extremes.

His hips are stuttering by the time you come to, and you can tell by the way his cock is throbbing and by the noises he’s making that he’s close.

He doesn’t give you much warning apart from those tell-tale signs, as he thrusts harshly into you a few more times before he’s moaning your name. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as he paints your walls in ropes of his thick, warm cum. You feel stuffed.

You both lay there in silence for a while, him ontop of you whilst his cock softens.

He eventually clears his throat, slowly sitting up and running a hand through his hair. You make eye contact, and all that anger and must that was previously in his eyes has gone and been replaced by adoration. He caressed your face again. He slowly gets up, and you hiss as his cock slips out of you.

He reaches down, fingers spreading your pussy as he looks at it, full of his cum. He grins, scooping up a bit that had run out and pushing it back in. You can hear the squelch of your juices, a vulgar sound.

He slowly gets up, and you can hear his bones crack as he stretches. He pulls his bottoms back up, turning around and looking at you from above. You were a sight. Eyes slightly red from the tears, sweaty skin and a pussy leaking with cum. He stays there for a second, making a mental memory of how you look.

“One moment.” He walks out of the room, and you can hear the tap in the kitchen turn on and off.

He returns moments later with a damp cloth and a cup of water. He cleans you up as you drink the water, giving you a warm, genuine smile. A rare sight.

As he’s cleaning you, he places a hand on your smooth stomach, caressing it softly.

“You’d look so good swollen with my babies.” He murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

————————————————————————-

tags: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @planet-marz1

a/n: please note this has not been edited and is my second ever fic. will happily accept any constructive criticism :) also i love receiving asks so feel free to say whatever

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

"Knuckles is just having a little trouble adjusting to his new home. It wasn't easy for me to understand this planet at first either […] I had a family that was patient enough to let me figure things out, so we have to do the same with Knuckles." Notice how as Sonic says all of this, Tails doesn't chime in with his own experiences coping with Earth as another example. What is this baby boy hiding?

Tails did nod as Sonic said those things, so I imagine it was a similar struggle for him. But! Tails might've been a bit more adaptive to such things. Think about it for a sec with me.

When Sonic came to earth, it was abrupt, jarring, sudden, and the aftermath of a tragedy. In being sent to earth, Sonic lost Longclaw, his first adoptive mother. He was SO young, too; probably between 2 and 3 years old. Practically a baby. 😭 He tried to make himself a good life, as good as he could manage without getting to interact with anyone and at such a young age, but living in the woods and being isolated for so long did a number on his mental health. Even after he properly met Tom & Maddie, his social skills were awkward and lacking, and considering how much time is between the first and second movies, they probably had an entire adjustment period as he tried to figure out how to live with a family. That's likely what he was talking about in this clip. 🥹

When Knuckles first came to earth, he was coming with intention and on a mission. Find Sonic and use him to find the Master Emerald. He had no intention of staying on Earth. It was because of Sonic and Tails befriending him (and the vow they made together to protect the Master Emerald, according to him) that kept him from leaving. Not to mention, coming to earth was a HUGE culture clash for him, and that continues. He's used to the ways of his tribe, to war, to a completely different set of rules. Adjusting to the life of a small town American family is a HUGE adjustment for him, especially compared to the others, hence why he's having more problems than Sonic and Tails.

But Tails?

Tails's initial motivation in coming to earth was "warn Sonic about Knuckles, then leave." But then Sonic roped him into tagging along for the ride, and by the end, they're brothers. You can't separate them anymore. They both admire one another so much, and Tails is clearly excited to be adopted into the family. For Tails, earth has been near nothing but positive. Sure, there was the bomb incident in Siberia and the brief trauma before the dance fight fixed that up, but otherwise? He gained a big brother from who was previously his hero. He gained another big brother from Knuckles (if that scene where Knuckles picks him up and sits him on his shoulder says anything 🥰). He got parents. He got a home. His culture from Mobius didn't seem to clash as much with earth culture as Sonic's and Knuckles's did, especially Knuckles.

Tails Wachowski has definitely had his fair share of trauma, but our baby boy is doing well, I'd say. Becoming the baby of the Wachowski family has probably been like living the dream for him. 🥹💙💛❤️

[bokettochild]

lol I’ll guess that u listened to Monster while writing that scene? And yes I love Christian music. I care about the lyrics I’m listening to so Christian is what I tend to fill my playlist w. Plus, since I’m a Christian myself I like to support those artists and know they exist bc they’re less common than secular music.

On a LU note, favorite genres per boy? And do they focus more on lyrics or melody?

Oh fantastic! I was a bit wary of suggesting just the Christian artists I grew up on, but I'm glad to hear you enjoy it too! I tend to be more careful with what I listen to as well, but sometimes you don't get a choice (and that sometimes is when your room-mate doesn't give a darn).

For the LU boys:

Hyrule doesn't have a lot of experience with music, but most of what he hears in his era is folk music, much of it passed down from Legend's era (or just straight up written by Legend). He'd enjoy most stringed instruments, I think, but especially because stringed instruments are the best for group songs (the musician can sing too) and he loves the sense of community the music creates.

Legend would be a mix of folk and work songs, since, again, it's something he would have grown up around. He'd be pretty versatile about music though, but I think his favorite instruments would be the piano and the violin/fiddle. Still I think blues and jazz would be something he's really enjoy as well, or just anything really soulful, although he'd have to be in the mood.

Twilight is a country boy, need I say more? He's a fiddler himself, I think, but the banjo and guitar are special too. Mouth organ is a maybe, sometimes it's too much for his ears, but the way it compliments other music is something he really enjoys. French horn is something he really lives though (since it plays so prominent a role in Ordon's music)

Sky is accustomed to the lyre and flute family, but I think he'd really enjoy communal music like Legend, Twilight, and Hyrule. He'd probably get a rush from rock, but only in small doses, as I really can't see this man being a metal head. If he had the chance to hear a full orchestra though, I think he'd be utterly blown away and just dazzled! Same with a proper choir performance. He feels like the type of guy who'd enjoy a vocal arrangement as much as an instrumental one.

Time is a rock man. 80's style dad rock. He cannonically says things like "groovy", so this is cannon to me. (also @cantankerouscanuck got me hooked on the idea). He likes softer music too, but his happy music is the heavier stuff. The ocarina may be what he;s known for, but this guy performed with the Indigo-Go's, he knows how to handle a guitar!

Wind is a pirate, so like Legend, he's used to working songs mostly, but I think he'd also enjoy rock, like most 13-year-olds do at one point or another LOL. He'd be mostly versatile though! Anything with a beat makes him happy mostly (RIP Wind, you would've loved rap)

Four isn't much of a musical person, as none of the colors can agree and the chaos is a bit much, but when split, let's just say that they cover the full spectrum of musical interests :)

Warriors is one that I headcannon to come from a poorer background, so instruments weren;t much of a thing where he's from. Vocal arrangements and folk music were common, but because I love the idea of a Celtic Captain, there was a piper who came to town once and a bit and the music was much adored by a young Wars. Now that he's come city side, he's very fond of piano, but that deep love of the pipes will never leave him <3

Wild isn't much used to music, but I think he just likes anything you can play on an accordion, since the association with Kass and the Rito makes him happiest. Don't tell me that they don't all adore and treat "the champion's descendant" like one of their own! Rito village is his home away from home, but Kass's music is a constant no matter where he is. He'd like other music, I think, especially "exotic" music like what we hear played in Gerudo Town (Naboris' Theme slaps!) but the accordion is the sound of home to him.

[goodqueenaly]

Is there much in the text to really get a sense of the relationship between Aegon III and Jaehaera? it seems like there was not any investigation of her death and wondering if that's a sign of anything? Maybe because of just reading on investigation of Amy Robsart's death from a fall that my mind went to the mystery around Queen Jaehaera. Unsure if it makes sense, but reading fan message boards on the topic where a prevalent idea Aegon III was too young to have made a fuss one way or the other.

Inherent to Fire and Blood Volume 1 - and this is one of the major weaknesses of the book IMO - is that we as readers are kept at arm’s length from the characters GRRM (via Gyldayn) describes. Because the conceit of the book is that it was written by a maester living more than a century and a half after most of the events he records, we cannot have the same personal narrative experience of characters that we get in ASOIAF or the Tales of Dunk and Egg. Consequently, we are far more limited in how much we can say about the personal feelings of any given character, or the personal relationship between any two characters. (Except the points in the book when GRRM decided to forgo the conceit entirely, but that’s a different story.)

To the extent that we do get any insight into the relationship between Aegon III and Jaehaera, Gyldayn emphasizes the lack of personal interaction between the two. Gyldayn states that the two “had very little contact with one another [after the wedding] save on formal occasions”. Even interactions on such occasions were apparently rare, according to Gyldayn, because “the little queen was loath to leave her chambers” and “never left her own apartments”. Too, Gyldayn states that after Unwin Peake took over the regency government, “Queen Jaehaera hid in seclusion in her chambers” while “King Aegon trained in the yard by morning and stared at the stars by night”. (Note that while Gyldayn reports the contemporary rumors that Jaehaera killed herself out of grief that she “loved [Aegon] with all her heart, yet he paid her no mind, showed her no affection” and “did not even share his rooms with her”, Gyldayn provides no source for this rumor, and indeed admits the higher likelihood that Jaehaera was murdered.)

Of course, it is very understandable why Aegon and Jaehaera would not have been very close to other another. As Grand Maester Munkun himself noted at the time, “[b]oth of them [were] broken”, very much traumatized by the tragedies they had witnessed firsthand or experienced in their still-short lives: the violence and cruelty of Blood and Cheese, the assault on Aegon and Viserys’ ship in the Narrow Sea followed by Aegon’s harrowing flight home on Stormcloud (and the loss, seemingly permanently, of his younger brother), the deaths of nearly every member of their respective immediate families (including the immolation and draconic devouring of Aegon’s mother in front of him). Add to all of this whatever GRRM wanted to imply with Jaehaera in babyhood - that from her birth Jaehaera “did not cry … did not smile … did none of the things a babe was meant to do” - and it’s pretty evident that both Aegon and Jaehaera were deeply scarred children suffering from severe emotional trauma that really no one in-universe was trying to treat (even if any would have been equipped to do so, which is far from certain). Brought together in a solely political marriage (itself aimed to address the violent recently ended war between their dead parents), deeply scarred while still young children - after all, we’re talking about an 11-year-old and an eight-year-old - neither Aegon nor Jaehaera was positioned personally or emotionally to become close to the other. 

It’s also important to note that whatever Aegon’s feelings toward his late “little queen” were either ahead of and/or immediately after her death, he was (purposefully) given very little opportunity to consider, much less mourn, her passing (read: murder). Unwin Peake, having had Jaehaera killed by his agents Mervyn Peake and Tessario the Tiger, moved with what both contemporaries and Gyldayn the historian considered unseemly, openly ambitious speed to force Aegon into another betrothal, specifically to his own daughter. Indeed, Ben Blackwood “questioned the haste of” the betrothal, as in his mind “Aegon should have been allowed half a year at least to mourn his little queen” (in, perhaps, standard Westerosi fashion for widowers). Whether or not Aegon would have actually wanted to or felt prepared to mourn Jaehaera - and again, the lack of introspection forced by the conceit of F&B really limits how much we can speculate on his feelings - he himself was thrust, suddenly and unwillingly, into the role of new bridegroom, faced with the prospect of marrying yet another unknown maiden while he himself was still suffering so much.

As far as the lack of investigation goes … I think the regency council and court became distracted too quickly by the question of Aegon’s remarriage to consider the manner of Jaehaera’s death. Because Peake had moved with such “presumptuous” speed in trying to slip Myrielle into Jaehaera’s place, the other regents and the Westerosi aristocracy at large had to react very quickly to what was very obviously a power play on Unwin’s part. The flurry of responses, both censuring and nuptial, to Unwin’s move, and the subsequent recalibration of his plan into the Maiden’s Day Cattle Show, meant that the matter of Jaehaera’s death lost its immediate significance. With “no shred of proof” against Unwin for Jaehaera’s death (as Gyldayn is at pains to insist), very little way to prove Unwin’s guilt beyond a confession from any of the conspirators involved, and an ostensibly plausible explanation for her death (in the deliberate parallel between Jaehaera and her mother), Jaehaera’s murder was simply not a target for inquiry. Nor, of course, would Peake have encouraged any real investigation into Jaehaera’s death, considering he himself arranged the murder in the first place: indeed, Unwin brutally distracted from his own guilt in the matter by having his ally George Graceford torture the queen’s servants for inconsequential misdeeds and mistakes and his other ally Lucas Leygood arrest and torture a septa merely for words against Jaehaera. 

(Incidentally, I wrote about Amy Dudley’s death a while ago.)

[a-writer]

Put some respect on Bryce's name! (HOFAS SPOILERS)

I've been reading so many things about Bryce and Hunt and their relationship... I'm done! Put some respect on them (specially on my girl bryce) names!

Bryce isn't a red flag or the bad guy for what she said to Hunt, c'mon... In this essay:

Let's start from the beginning. Bryce is someone with a strong character, plus she's what? 24? 25? She's young as fuck, specially compared to Hunt and the others, who are like hundreds of years old. Pluuuus, she's in her first serious relationship, Hunt is her first love, she's learning to navigate the ups and downs of a new relationship.

On top of all that, she's found herself in this situation that she never asked for, being theia's successor and having the starborn light AND the horn. She's been having traumatic experiences for months in a row, it's a miracle she hasn't lost her head completely.

She was giving her all and she just wanted Hunt to do the same. I feel that she understood his trauma, but she couldn't understand why he would throw all that away and get scared so far into the mess. There was no way out already and Bryce was okay with going forward and risking her life, she just wanted for him to feel that way, too. And I agree with you all that expecting that from someone with so much trauma as Hunt is selfish, she was being selfish, but she was also in a hard as fuck position.

Which brings me here. They were at war!!! Emotions were constantly high!!!!! We say things we do not mean in those situations. Bryce understood that and apologized to Hunt, she gave him space and she let him know that she was by his side all the time.

They have the most beautiful connection, they constantly remind the other how much they love them and they are always willing to go to the end for one another. To me, they are one of the most beautiful couples and I love them. I feel like their relationship is so mature and forgiving. It feels like a real relationship, and i love that.

[frankthesnek]

I have seen a lot of content here and on other platforms talking about how much people hate Steve's ending in the Infinity Saga, and I wanted to give my two cents. So buckle up folks!

Fisrt off, just to get it out of the way, I personally do not like Steve's ending. I don't like it because of the canon implications. They make a big deal about not changing things by getting the stones and returning them when they are done.... then Steve stays behind, and I'm sorry, but that opens the potential for SOOOO many plot issues canonically. Anyway, on to all the reasons I DON'T TAKE ISSUE WITH his ending.

The two things I see used most often as reasons to why Steve's ending sucks is 1) it's not in character for him, and 2) he abandoned Bucky waaaahhh! Let's talk about both.

1) not in character? Completely disagree, because pure and simple Steve is not the same person at the end of the Infinity Saga as he was at the start of his story.

An important thing to remember is that Steve was young when he became Captain America. He was only 25, which is like... the start of actual adulthood. He got the serum, and from that moment on, his life was not really his own. Let's look at how his life goes after becoming Cap:

Steve becomes a show pony for the USO (not what he wanted or thought he would be doing).

Steve ends up in the middle of war (yes, he wanted to protect his country. That doesn't mean you enjoy war).

Steve willingly sacrfises himself for the greater good.

Steve comes back to a new world where everything he has ever known and all the people he ever loved are gone.

Steve ends up fighting wars, again.

Steve is young and ends up in pretty much back to back situations where he is the leader in dangerous situations, something that yes he excels at... but here's the thing, just because you can do something doesn't mean you should/are prepared to. I'm not saying Steve is a bad leader (he's not), but Rhody says it best in Civil War, "Steve that.... that is dangerously arogant." Steve IS arogant. It's not intentional, just a result of power and leadership at an early age.

By the end of the Infinity Saga, this arrogance has been checked and is gone. Steve has grown, aged, seen, and experienced so much more. He has experienced not only other people's failures but his own. He has grown into his power and learned with it. We see this process as we move through the movies. At the start, he wants to have a life and settle down someday. Then he becomes Cap and at first he still wants this but, as time goes on he questions if he can ever do that because he doesn't think he can walk away (Steve says this himself in AoU). Then in the end Steve has done his time, served his term of duty and realizes he CAN walk away (I personally feel this comes a lot from Steve seeing Tony make that shift too late in life and lose his family before truly getting to experience them).

Long and short of it, Steve at the start would not have gone back. Steve as the man he is at the end, would have.

2) but he abandoned Bucky! Steve wouldn't do that, right? Yeah, yeah he fucking would. I get that it seems bitterly unsatisfying for him to just leave Bucky after everything Steve went through to save him and get him back.... but here's the thing if anyone understands Steve's struggles and what he's been through, it's Bucky. Bucky lost his life too. He went to war young, got captured and reprogrammed, was forced to do horrible things, and lost the world and people he knew and loved.

If anything Bucky would have been the one to encourage Steve to do what he did. Picture Steve going to Bucky and being like, hey I have this crazy idea, and I need you to talk me out of it. Would Bucky talk him out of it? No, Bucky would encourage it because he KNOWS first hand what Steve has lost.

Bucky clearly knows what Steve is planning when they say good bye in that last scene. Just like how Steve was willing to put everything on the line to save Bucky—Bucky was willing to let Steve go live the life he deserved. Really, that right there is what it all comes down to in the end. What did Steve deserve? After everything he has done, he deserved happiness, and that's what he got. Bucky wasn’t gonna talk him out of that because he loves Steve, and that can mean letting people go, just like it can mean fighting for them.

Anyway, just my thoughts. The end.