#he wants as many children as he's able to carry

[fandom-puzzle-peaces]

Just a Thought About Cale Part 2

It hath been requested, so here is a sort of continuation from my last post. Today I am gonna talk more about what I believe Cale embodies:

HOPE & LOVE

In my first post I already talked about hope a bit, and ya’ll can read that if you want my full take on this, but I will continue where I left off. Last time, I mentioned that something was missing when I listed out what it is exactly that Cale hopes to have in his “slacker life.” Said list is:

A nice house

A peaceful place to have said house in

A ton of money

After looking at this you may be wondering what is missing, since it looks like everything Cale has stated time again to want is already there. However, we all know how unreliable of a narrator he is and that he never actually fully says what he wants unless it’s money. What is missing is his hope of having a family living there with him in that nice peaceful house.

It’s so obvious that he misses having others around him, regardless of how many times he denies it. He’s just scared of losing them again, and for a time I do genuinely believe he had given up on that hope of having loved ones. But over the course of his new life as Cale Henituse you can slowly but surely see that hope being rekindled. It also helps when he learns that the “curse” that was accidentally placed on him due to white star shenanigans is now gone.

So now he actually has a chance to be able to keep his new family around, and you better believe he will do anything in his power to do so. We have already seen plenty of his self-sacrificial stunts to know this fact already. Cale’s list of hopes, of course, has continued to grow from just those beginning 3 that encompass his “slacker life,” and most likely will as time goes on to most likely include the simpler pleasures of life he can indulge in with his family.

A true family man I would say!

Now, regardless of how many hopes he has (or how small they may seem), Cale is someone who is full of hope and in turn fills others with it as well. So where does Love fit into our beloved idiot you may ask? Look at all of the people he has surrounded himself with and how he interacts with them. He may say he's "trashy" and a "bad person," but we all know he isn't with how he acts. Cale is highly perceptive of his family’s condition, their wants and needs. He goes out of his way, all the time, to make them happy:

He gives the children sweets and cuddles all the time

He gave Raon his name

He gives Rosalyn whatever she needs for her research and is helping her become the Magic Tower Master

He visits Alberu all the time and just hangs out, which must be such a relief to shed the royal persona (even if Cale does steal his cookies)

He lets Ron mess with him even though he hates it and helps him take back his ancestral home

Always eats everything Beacrox gives him and compliments it (probably also gives him new kitchen tools and ingredients to mess with as well)

He gave Eruhaben a reason to live longer and extended the dragon’s lifespan—and went through one hell of trial to do it—so he could do so (said reason being to live with them for as long as possible)

He gave Mary the world to experience and explore to her heart's content

Took in Lock and his siblings and just lets them be kids, albeit very violent ones

He got Choi Han a new sword (which he treasures), as well as a new home and family (which he treasures even more)

That's not even counting all he does for the others and his allies. But most of all, Cale protects them:

He never puts the kids in a situation where they can be hurt

Even when one of them was in harm’s way (Raon), he bodily shielded them not once but twice

He carried Rosalyn (with his weak noodle arms) when she couldn't stand out of harm’s way

He keeps Alberu's heritage a secret and helps him politically

He literally blew up an island for Ron

I don't think he's had a big moment for Beacrox yet, but he has saved him from the fate of living in a world without his father

Has shielded Eruhaben before from the White Star

Like the kids, Mary is almost always out of harm's way and he also protects her politically

Has shielded Lock during the Battle at the Gorge of Death

He protected Choi Han from completely losing it, as the biggest danger to Choi Han is Choi Han himself

Cale loves his newfound family so much he speedran the war with White Star in UNDER A YEAR!! And that's just for his family! You cannot tell me he hasn't also fallen in love with his new (well what was supposed to be his really) home world. He is literally tracking down and annihilating the Hunters who are in other worlds because they keep going after his in part 2. Don't tell me that isn't love! It also doesn't help that, no matter how much he denies it, Cale gets attached fairly easily. He wants people around him to love who love him in return.

GIVE THIS MAN SOME HUGS!

Anyways, I think I have rambled long enough. Hope ya’ll enjoyed this!

Brief interest check: how would ya’ll feel if I posted some creative prompts for writing, drawing, etc.? Lemme know however you want.

@elaemae hope you liked it!

[rednite-dork]

Dad!Seb proving that he can carry ALL of his children 😤

[khioneee]

tap out.

simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.

based on this.

simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.

in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.

but simon is an orphan now.

there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.

over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.

the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.

he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.

maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.

no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.

still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.

then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.

it’s you.

you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.

you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.

—you. you. you.

and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.

he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.

you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.

he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.

and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.

with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.

then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.

in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.

his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.

‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.

his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.

you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’

and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.

[buttercuparry]

Help Siraj get to 70k by Thursday!!

Some bloggers were less than pleased with my most recent posts where I talked about how Palestine has become a momentary trend for many, and accused me of trying to "guilt trip". They even predicted that these posts wouldn't bring in any sustained support for Siraj Abudayeh ( @siraj2024 ) and advised me to instead keep it to the point. Well alright then, let's keep it short and get to the point:

Siraj Abudayeh is a journalist who is fundraising to survive and rebuild in Gaza as he has no plans to evacuate

Recently he became the sole provider of FIVE FAMILIES- both his own and that of his parents and married siblings, after they all fled to him to escape the recent IOF attacks. 

As he is now fundraising to bear the cost of all 23 family members, he is even more desperate to finish his campaign. 

What the family needs most now is access to clean drinking  water. With 10 children ( Siraj's sons and their cousins) to take care of and with the polio epidemic spreading in camps, this is imperative. 

He has requested us to help him buy a submersible water generator and network tools. This is costly but with water treating plants and other facilities being completely destroyed, this is the only long term solution for now.

For 11 months Siraj has hesitated to buy a water generator. He was afraid  that he wouldn't be able to manage it while also making sure that his family had something to eat. But since there are more children (all between 6 and 12 years of age) to take care of now, he cannot put this off anymore. The settler state has already  unchilded them- they risk their lives and walk long distances to look for drinkable water to carry back in heavy pails, when they instead should have been working on their homeworks or playing. Siraj wants them to at least be relatively safe from having to take such risks to survive. 

Siraj needs to reach 70k by THURSDAY, that is within 3 days, so that he can start the process of making a purchase. You said that I do not need to write scathing posts to have your attention, so I am here now requesting you to act upon Siraj’s plea for help. 

He is currently only at $65,393 CAD . That is 4.6k away from our next short term goal. Boost and donate and help him access clean water for the children. 

[ GFM LINK ] [ Vetting #219]

[zylev-blog]

Batman opened the door, catching the falling body that had come out of the tube. Glowing green Lazarus water flowed around his feet, but he didn’t care. He gently laid the boy onto the ground, listening for breathing sounds. But he wasn’t even sure if his species could breathe. The boy was no older than Tim, with stark-white hair, and pale green skin. The boy wasn’t human, that was for sure, but as to what species he was, Batman had no clue. The teenager hadn’t even opened his eyes since being removed from the tube.

The Lazarus water didn’t smell quite like the pits he was used to. The water smelled cleaner, stronger. Less like battery acid and more like a strong-scented cleaner that he couldn’t give a name to.

He grasped the boy by the shoulders as he picked him up bridal style. He needed to take the boy to the cave, and figure out if he was even alive. A regular hospital wouldn’t be able to do anything for him.

“Batman, we’ve apprehended the last of the men in white suits.” Red Robin said over the comms.

“Good,” His voice was gruff, “Make sure they don’t escape before police arrive.”

Tim didn’t bother saying anything else to him. Neither of them were in the mood for jokes. Not after what they had seen tonight. They had stumbled across a lab in Gotham in an abandoned warehouse. They had thought that it was a Joker hideout when they first arrived, but they had quickly found out that wasn’t the case. After they had began to investigate, they had found corpses of many people that had been thrown into a pit. The bodies had evidence of vivisection, torture, and experimentation. The bodies had ranged from children to adults, but the results were all the same. They were all dead.

They had found tubes like the ones used at Cadmus. They held a few humanoid-species, but most of them looked like they were in varying stages of death. The only tube that looked like it held someone living had been the teenage boy he now held in his arms.

The worst thing about all of this were that they had no idea what this place was, what they were doing, or why they were in Gotham. They had stumbled in by mistake.

He had a lot of work to do.

“No survivors.” Nightwing’s voice sounded. Not even Dick was in a good mood anymore, and he had been joking around for the last few hours.

Batman looked down at the boy in his arms. The boy hadn’t stirred once, hadn’t moved, and hadn’t breathed. He might be carrying a corpse for all he knew.

“And the files?” He prompted.

“Downloading.” Red Robin’s voice was grim. “You’re not going to like it.”

He didn’t like anything about this situation already. How could it get any worse?

“From what I can tell from skimming through the files,” Red Robin continued, “They were experimenting with people’s souls. They killed all of these people because they wanted to catch their ghost.”

“Hrrn.” He looked away from the teenager in his arms. Maybe he didn’t have a corpse in his arms—but a ghost. A ghost of a teenager he failed to save.

What if it had been Tim lying in his arms? Dick? Jason? Damian? Did this teenager have parents before he died, or were his parents in the pit?

The boy stirred, whipping Bruce’s attention back to him. The boy moaned in pain, starting to writhe in his arms.

“You’re safe now.” He said to the boy. “You’re saved.”

“Nnnngh.” The boy opened Lazarus green eyes to look at him. The eyes were hazy, as if exhaustion plagued them. “Batman?”

“They won’t hurt you ever again.” He promised.

“Where is my sister?” The boy asked. “They took her.”

Dick’s words played on repeat in his mind. No survivors. But the boy didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“We’re still searching the base. She’ll be here somewhere.” He lied.

The boy closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. But even with Bruce watching him, the boy did not breathe. Maybe he didn’t need to anymore. Tears leaked down the boy’s cheeks, as if he knew Bruce’s lie.

[ezrazone]

my friend mohamed’s cat, amy, is older than all three of his children! he carried her with him when he and his family were forced to evacuate their home in north gaza due to the brutal colonizing forces and their us-funded death squads ravaging palestine for its land.

here is amy now - she’s been skin and bones since the genocide has prevented mohamed from accessing adequate care for her illness. still, she makes his children smile and he hopes to get treatment for her when they are able to evacuate into egypt. just the same as mohamed plans on finding care for his wife, who is suffering from advanced uterine cancer, mohamed cares a great deal about this little cat.

here’s another picture of amy and of the two birds that mohamed’s family escaped north gaza with. how incredible is it that so many palestinians refuse to abandon their beloved animals, even as the occupation indiscriminately brutalizes and destroys all life?

something beautiful happened! this tiny kitten has joined mohamed’s family in the tent! abdul rahman, sarah, and lynn all love this kitten and hope that they are able to bring it across the border when the rafah crossing opens back up.

despite serious illness, mohamed’s daughter sarah talks constantly about how much she loves these cats and wants to play with them again. mohamed tells me that she loves cats more than she loves her own parents sometimes. i understand her. can you help keep her safe and ensure that she can bring these animals with her to egypt?

donations increased temporarily after the election results were called, then slowed down again as americans seem to retreat back into themselves. please let these people hold your attention this time.

mohamed is #192 on this verification sheet.

if you would like an alternative method for donating, please use this cashapp QR code to send money to mohamed’s fundraising coordinator. we are in constant contact and mohamed confirms to me that 100% of these funds are sent directly to him without delay.

please help me protect this family and their pets.

[dedalvs]

My brother and I absolutely cackled after that Aemond and Aegon Valyrian exchange!

I wanted to ask (and I'm terrible at conlangs, so forgive me) what grammar/syntax Aegon is stumbling over here and how to properly say what he intended to? Any why is he making thise mistakes (simply lacking the vocabulary, or rules of the language he hasn’t grasped)?

Let's take a look at it. This is what he said:

Nyke koston... Bēvilus... Sētegon bīlīvāzmi?

The subtitles say this:

"I can... Have to... Make a war?"

Prior to this Aemond is, essentially, showing off. He knows that Aegon has simply not put any time into studying Valyrian (or studying anything). At this stage, Valyrian is no longer spoken by the family on a day-to-day basis—especially as Alicent probably never learned it at all (or if she did, only in a few scattered lessons here and there; not to actually use). In order for either of the boys to gain any kind of fluency in the language, they have to study constantly and find ways to use it. There's simply no daily need for the language—and plenty of reasons not to use it, as very, very few people they'll encounter on a daily basis speak the language.

Now, if we were talking about two random people in Westeros, this wouldn't mean anything. But these are the children of Viserys Targaryen, himself a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror. They brought their family line and their culture with them to Westeros—and, of course, their language. If someone like Alicent Hightower doesn't speak High Valyrian it means nothing. If a Targaryen doesn't speak High Valyrian, though… See, they're supposed to be able to speak Valyrian. Failing to do so carries with it a sense of shame that isn't present for a random person who doesn't speak Valyrian. Aemond knows this. Aegon is annoying him, so he goes poking at that wound.

Aemond could have fed him a short line with an obvious answer to help Aegon out, but instead he threw a whole mess of Valyrian at him. The longer it goes on, the more lost Aegon gets, desperately trying to catch up and figure out what was just said and thereby missing what is being said at that instant. From the whole speech, Aegon probably only figured out that he was being asked a question, and it was something having to do with planning.

So, back to what he says. The beginning student of a language is quite adept at doing a single verb in a present tense sentence. In a discussion like this, though, you're typically saying things like "I think that" or "We should" or "I suggest" or "Perhaps we might", etc. All that stuff that we need to offer opinions, make suggestions, hedge, etc. Much more than simple narration.

Aegon is attempting to do this without a sufficient command of the language. He knows some vocabulary, he knows some grammar, but he simply did not put in the work to actually speak this language. Thus, he has to overcome a lot of Common Tongue (i.e. English) interference.

There are many differences between Valyrian and English, but the biggest one by far is the major word order. In English, the verbs come before the rest of the junk; in Valyrian, they come at the end. And this is how things get all messed up.

In English, you start the sentence saying things like "I think" or "We should" or "It seems". In Valyrian, those things come at the end. If you start with the Valyrian equivalent of "I think", you will quickly realize (presuming you know enough of the grammar) that you're sunk, because once you've said it, the sentence should be done. Thus you get Aegon's false starts.

Starting at the beginning, Aegon says Nyke koston, which is kind of like saying, "I could". But there's nowhere to go. This is how a sentence ends. For example, if he wanted to say, "I could fly to Harrenhal", he would say Harenhalot sōvegon koston—literally "To Harrenhal fly I could". If you're thinking English-ly, you're essentially thinking backwards, and if you simply translate what you're thinking, you'll immediately have nowhere to go. You'll have to take a pause and think about how to get started again. And that's exactly what happens here.

Now, leaving aside that Valyrian is a pro-drop language and starting it off with nyke "I" is unnecessary and makes you look like a beginner, koston isn't bad (I mean, if used sentence-finally). Once he realizes he can't start there, though, he loses confidence. It's those old High Valyrian lessons all over again, and some maester suggesting he hasn't studied. That self-doubt makes his facility with Valyrian worse. This means his chances of recovery are severely hampered.

But onward he presses, and he decides to say "We have to" or "I have to". Now, the problem here is in Valyrian that requires the verb bēvilagon. This verb isn't used in the usual way. Literally it means "to lie on". If you wanted to say "We must mobilize our dragons", you'd say Īlvī zaldrīzī mazannagon īlo bēvilza. That's literally "Our dragons to mobilize us it lies upon". The one who must do something is placed in the genitive and put directly before the verb. If you start with the verb, well, you missed your chance to say who it is that must be doing something—let alone what they must do. Another false start.

It's also worth noting that he says bēvilus as opposed to bēvilza. Let's ignore that it's the aorist and focus on the fact that it's the subjunctive (just like koston). You use the subjunctive with your main verb when you're hedging—when you're suggesting. Not when you're commanding. Kind of an odd thing to say "We must do this" with the subjunctive. Kind of like saying "Maybe we might considering having to do this".

At this point, his confidence has completely evaporated. Everybody's staring at him like he has no idea what he's talking about; Aemond's eating it up. He knows he's cooked. He's got to say something, though, so he says sētegon which isn't even conjugated. It means "to make" or "to create", which might make sense in English (e.g. "to make war"), but doesn't make sense in Valyrian (a bit like saying "to construct a war" or even "to bake a war") and then tries to pronounce vīlībāzmi "war" (wrong case/number, wrong order) and fails, saying bīlīvāzmi, which means nothing (also he wanted vīlībāzme. Vīlībāzmi is "wars").

Long story short, he doesn't present himself very well—and we didn't even talk about his general pronunciation or intonation. It's kind of a great big mess in only five words. A true disaster.

But if there were no expectation that he should be able to speak Valyrian, none of this would matter! If there were no shame associated with him specifically not being able to speak Valyrian no one would expect it of him, and this challenge would mean as little as someone challenging him to speak the Old Tongue or Asshai'i. It'd be meaningless.

In short, this small portion of this scene is about being a heritage speaker of a language. It's the exact nightmare scenario all heritage speakers fear: To be put on stage and made to perform despite being unequal to the task while simultaneously feeling that they should be equal to it.

It'd be so cool if it was okay to be kind of good with a language—if that level of mastery was acceptable. In the real world, anyway.

[howcouldmuffin]

Dreaming.

You know that falling in love makes you feel like a fool, but what if it’s him?

PAIRING : Jacearys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : SFW, Targaryen incest, Non-canon

AN : I was inspired by the song “Kingston” by Faye Webster. Her music is amazing, and the way she describes falling in love is so lovely to me. Although it may not perfectly match the song, I hope you like it.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

Everyone in Westeros is aware of the long-standing conflict between the Greens and the Blacks. The king is well aware of this issue too, but he hasn’t been able to resolve it, so the problem continues to persist.

You know the Velaryon siblings very well, having grown up under the same roof as them. While your mother’s influence might have made many think that you were not close, children often don’t see things the same way as adults. They, along with your siblings, were raised to constantly compete with each other, enemies by birth. But after they moved to Dragonstone, everything seemed to calm down.

As the years passed, you grew into a princess of great honor, more graceful than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms. You possess every desirable quality, and people often compare you to a combination of Visenya and Rhaenys in a single woman. Such praise could easily lead to vanity, but you know well that these words are nothing more than the desires of those who speak them.

“I’ve heard that Rhaenyra has arrived.” you say as you open the door to Helaena’s chamber. “Will you join me? Mother is likely busy in the small council.” She is preoccupied with your nieces and nephews, and at their age, they are quite a handful.

“I’m sorry, but my children are being quite a handful right now.” she says, confirming the scene before you. The children are getting ready for their bath, and it looks like it will take a while. You decide to help your sister manage her lively brood.

“Who here is being a good child?” you ask as you lift up one of the boys. “Is it you, Jaehaerys, or is it you, Jaehaera?” The children are usually well-behaved around you, and they listen to you quite obediently.

“I am!” the boy answers.

“Well, good children don’t make their mother tired, okay? That goes for you too, young lady.” Both nod in agreement and follow their maid to go take their bath.

“Thank you so much, sister.” Helaena says as she walks over to you. “It would have been even more chaotic without you.”

“You’re welcome, but I should be going now.” you reply, kissing her cheek before leaving the room and making your way down the corridors of the Red Keep.

The decorations here have likely changed since your eldest sister last saw them. Religious symbols now adorn the walls of the building. At times, you don’t agree with what your mother has done, filling the place with the beliefs of your family’s old traditions.

“Your Grace.” you curtsy to the pair as you approach.

“I apologize for not being there to welcome you. I only just heard that you arrived, and Mother is likely preoccupied with the small council meeting,” you explain. Rhaenyra immediately embraces you. Despite your mother’s dislike for her, you are not your mother. Her attempts to separate you have no effect if you refuse to adopt her views.

“I have already received a warm welcome from you.” Rhaenyra smiles as she releases you from her embrace and takes your hand.

“Only from you, niece.” Daemon adds.

“You must be tired from your journey. I think you should rest first.” you suggest.

“My husband and I will visit Father first.” she responds. “and I have someone I want you to meet.” She lifts up a young Targaryen boy while another child is carried by a maid.

“This is Aegon, and this is Viserys.”

“So these are my nephews, my little princes.” you say, taking Viserys from the maid. “They have grown so well.” Both boys have the silvery-golden hair of dragons and possess the regal presence of true princes of Westeros.

“Jace and Luke mentioned they would be heading to the practice yard if you wish to see them.” she adds. Your dear nephews, you wonder how much they’ve grown. You hand Viserys back to the maid after kissing his cheek, then turn to your sister.

“In that case, I’ll take my leave, Your Grace.” They both nod in acknowledgment.

You leave the area and head straight to the practice yard. You and Jacaerys are the same age, while Lucerys is a year younger than you. You Daeron and Jacaerys were all nursed by the same wet nurse, which is why you and your twin brother are closer to them than to others in the family.

After a short walk, you find the stairs leading to the training yard. You catch a glimpse of your brother Aemond, who is also there. Over the years, you have tried to encourage him to let go of his grudge, knowing that he once experienced the same mistreatment as our nephews. You hope he may have come to some understanding.

“Welcome, dear nephews.” you say as Jace and Luke turn to see you, their faces showing a mix of nostalgia as they remember the place where they once lived.

They have grown so much, the boys you once knew have become handsome young men, true princes. As soon as they see you, they rush to embrace you, and you return the gesture. They are still as endearing as ever.

“How was your journey?” you ask them.

As you pull away from the hug, you notice how their handsomeness has only increased. Jacaerys, in particular, possesses a beauty that seems straight out of the fairytales you once read. Your heart races, pounding in your chest.

“It went smoothly.” Jace replies. “You’ve grown so much.”

“And even more beautiful.” Luke adds, making you all laugh together. The moment brings back memories of when you were all young and oblivious to the complexities of the world.

“I wish you the best in the judgment, Luke.” you say, taking your younger nephew’s hand. “I will speak with my mother and my grandfather on your behalf.”

“Thank you so much, Princess.” he smiles back at you.

“It seems there’s a family gathering I wasn’t invited to.” your brother Aemond’s raspy voice breaks in. He walks over, and you notice Lucerys’s discomfort. To prevent any tension, you step in front of him, silently urging Aemond not to start anything.

“Are you here to train, nephews?” Aemond asks.

Before anyone can respond, Vaemond Velaryon, another claimant to Driftmark, appears. His presence is intimidating, and he seems to harbor little fondness for your two nephews. You silently pray that the gods favor your nephews over him.

“I apologize for being late, Your Grace.” you said, curtsying before taking your seat. Before dinner, you had so many things on your mind that you lost track of time in the bath, and by the time Nora came to fetch you, it was already late.

“A princess should know the importance of being punctual.” Alicent scolded you.

“It’s alright. Children always have many things on their minds.” your father said. “Go ahead, take your seat.” You nodded at your father and made your way to the empty seat beside Aemond. Helaena smiled at you, and you noticed Jacaerys watching you as well. He had been the reason you had been thinking about him all day.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems.” Viserys continued. “I announce here that my youngest daughter will marry my grandson, Jace. I have made my decision, and I ask you all to accept it.” Your father's declaration left the entire room in silence, including you.

You could hardly believe what you had just heard. You looked over at Jacaerys, who was already looking at you. Although you felt a small twinge of joy, the suddenness of the announcement left you stunned. Your mother's displeasure was immediately evident on her face. Viserys slowly stood and shared his thoughts.

People began to rise and speak, but you couldn’t focus on anything else. You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to feel.

“Sister.” your brother called. “Congratulations on your engagement.” Aemond spoke with a hint of amusement, knowing well that you never saw yourself ending up as a wife solely meant to bear children. But if it was Jacaerys...

“How should I feel?” you asked him.

“Be happy, at least he’s not like our eldest brother, sister.” he replied, surprising you. You expected him to mock or tease you, but instead, he offered you encouragement.

“Do you not resent them anymore?”

“I promised you before they arrived that I wouldn’t do anything to stir up trouble between us.” he replied. “I’m trying.” You raised your glass to toast to your brother's words, appreciating his sincerity.

The music played beautifully, and your mother seemed to have composed herself, while others engaged in lively conversation with those seated around them. Before long, Jacaerys stood and invited Helaena to dance with him. You felt a pang of envy as you watched them together—wasn’t he your betrothed?

“Has Daeron sent any news?” your brother beside you asked.

“He’s been training as usual, more diligently than ever.” you replied. “He asked me to thank you for the new book you sent him.” Although you were speaking to your brother, your eyes remained fixed on your newly betrothed. He was handsome, and the sudden betrothal your father had arranged had left your mind unsettled.

“Are you jealous?” your brother interrupted again. “Shall we dance together like they are?”

Your brother had been acting strange lately, starting from yesterday, today, and even now. Although he had promised, his behavior was beyond what you had expected.

“What do you want, brother?” you asked him seriously. “Are you planning to use me as a tool to hurt them?”

“You’re overthinking, sister.” he replied. “Wouldn’t it be better if I were to make friends with another heir to the Iron Throne?”

“Let’s hope that’s true.” you said, offering him your hand. “Don’t leave me behind. My feet are sore.”

The dinner proceeded smoothly, with everyone seeming to be one big happy family. You hoped this friendship would endure and not be shattered.

You closed the door to your room and hurried over to your writing desk. There were so many things from today that you wanted to record and reflect upon. You thought about the conversation you had with Jace today, your heart pounding at the memory. You hoped he hadn’t noticed. Your face had flushed, and you couldn’t meet his eyes. You knew what this feeling was—you were falling in love with him. How could it be so simple?

Should you write to your twin about this? What advice would he give you? Or perhaps you should share this with Helaena, though she was likely busy with your nieces and nephews. In the end, you decided to jot it down in your personal journal, a simple and safe choice.

After trying to fall asleep in the darkness of your room, you realized it was no use. You couldn’t sleep. Perhaps a walk, like you often did, would help calm your thoughts. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the corridors of the Red Keep. The moon tonight was beautiful, and you stopped to gaze at it from a window, its light bright and close.

“Princess.” Jacaerys' voice startled you, nearly causing you to gasp out loud.

“Prince.” you curtsied, and he bowed in return.

“Are you unable to sleep?” he asked.

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep.”

“You must be worried about our betrothal.” he replied. “I swear on my honor, I will not dishonor you, Princess.”

“I will do the same.” you replied. The two of you stood there, looking at each other, and you found yourself at a loss for words. If it had been anyone else, you would have no trouble striking up a conversation, but with him, you were suddenly too anxious.

“I think we should both return to our rooms, Princess.” he said finally. “If you don’t mind, I’ll escort you back.” You nodded in agreement, and as you led the way, he followed at a slow pace.

When you reached your door, you realized it was time to bid him goodnight. You stopped, turned to face him, and gathered the courage to meet his gaze. His eyes were so beautiful, and you wondered if he could see how red your face was.

“Goodnight, my Prince.”

“Goodnight.” He remained where he stood, not turning to leave. You opened the door to your room and closed it slowly. He would leave after you shut the door, you assumed. Your hand clutched at your chest, feeling your heart hammering as if it would burst out of your body. Your hands were trembling. This must be the beginning of that foolishness you had always heard about.

You were overjoyed when your sister said she would be staying here longer. It meant you could spend more time getting to know your betrothed and spending time with him. The activities you often did alone now had him joining you. You talked about matters of the kingdom, the families allied with yours, the histories of different dragons, or even trivial things.

For you, it was wonderful to spend time with him. There were days when the two of you talked until you fell asleep together. When your mother found out about this, she scolded you intensely, speaking about propriety and how others might perceive it. You were confined to your room for an entire week.

But Jacearys surprised you with the secret passage in your room. You wondered if there were passages like this all over the castle. He used that secret passage to visit you while you were locked in your room. You thought about how much effort he must have put in just to talk to you, and it made you think about him even more, falling in love with him all over again.

“So, how was practice today?” you asked him. “Did Ser Criston bother you again?” You were lying on the bed reading a book while he leaned against the headboard, staring at you.

“He seems to have stopped. Aemond kept him away from us.” he replied. You knew well that Criston didn’t seem to like Rhaenyra or her children, but it wasn’t good to pass that dislike onto others.

You closed your book and slowly sat up, crawling to sit beside him. Jace shifted slightly to give you more room. You rested your head on his shoulder, holding hands. One of his arms draped over your shoulder. Life here must have been hard for him—the stares from everyone, the words he often heard.

“I want to go to Dragonstone.”

“Then you’ll have to marry me and go live there with me.” you said, turning to look at the prince. He smiled slightly.

“And if I don’t marry you? Can’t I just go?”

“Wouldn’t you want us to go together, just the two of us?” Jacaerys leaned closer. You looked at him without blinking, and finally, your lips met slowly. He gently slipped his tongue into your mouth, teasing yours as if to savor every bit of sweetness from you.

After a while, the two of you pulled away, gazing into each other’s eyes before laughing together. Jace leaned in again to kiss your cheek.

Now you know what your desire is from here on out. No longer will you need to sleep to recall your dreams, because now your life feels like a dream, and you’ll be living in it forever.

[pennyblossom-meta]

Analysis of the romance in Death Note's Spiraling Trap game.

EDIT 02/03/2024: minor edits and fixes, added a few imgs and extra content.

A huge thank you to the folks over at agtteam who translated L - the ProLogue to Death Note: Spiraling Trap into English! Now we can all date L become FBI agents after hours.

I've been playing the game recently and one of the features I love the most is the L Communicator, which allows the main character (referred to as MC henceforth) to take a break from adventuring and listen to L talk about whatever is on his mind.

There's around one hundred different lines available as the MC develops a relationship with L and they paint him as such a sweet, attentive and thoroughly unique individual that I was surprised by how detailed it was. If you're thinking about playing, then this part is definitely worth putting effort into.

The mechanics of the dating sim are relatively simple: during the adventure, you'll pick up a number of recipes hidden among traps and tools. Then, Watari will provide the ingredients and you can give L whatever sweets he specifically craves. These recipes and cravings depend on the time of day and can be season specific.

Character analysis

As stated in-game, giving L sweets causes his appreciation for the MC to grow. However, L being L, means that he craves different sweets throughout the day. He's definitely very specific about what he likes and what he wants for his sugar fix.

However, if you give L something he isn't craving at that specific moment, he will sulk. The way he expresses his displeasure varies according to the depth of the budding relationship he has with the MC.

L: To tell you the truth, there are many other things I would have preferred. L: [F/N], I hate to say this, but I really would have preferred something else. L: F/N], you must know that I was hoping for something else, right? L: [F/N]… It’s not my favorite but, it made me really happy.

Note: Given that the books in the expanded universe (Another Note and L: Change the WorLd) came out before this game, I think some of the quotes further ahead might be a subtle nod to how L is perceived by the police forces as the "creepy murder detective". However, references about his piece of mind lead me to believe that L craves some respite from the burdens he carries on his shoulders — burdens so strong that they managed to curve his spine.

Note: I'm unsure how the system here works, as the MC also gets points for gaining L's trust in the actual adventure when they a) agree with his observations and b) find key objects hidden in unsuspecting places. It might affect the available lines through the L Communicator.

L: Today is going to be a better day… Let’s think positive. L: I wonder what kind of morning this will be. L: It seems the air outside is crisp this morning.

L: I want to finish what I need to get done before night falls. L: It’s nearly sunset. Time for children to go back home. L: If you just stare into space, night will be here before you know it.

L: It’s already evening… Time keeps passing me by. L: There’s something different about the air at night. L: Night-time, dusk… It’s the witching hour.

As a naturally introspective individual, L observes the world around him and draws conclusions. To my surprise, the game actually managed to capture how observant L is about small, unsuspecting details of daily life and give him a slightly poetic side laced with a hint of wistfulness that suits his character well.

This is a side of L in his private life that I personally wish we had been able to glimpse during the Kira investigation. Though, at the time, L was busy trying to prove that Light was, indeed, Kira. It left him little to no time to enjoy the world around him. During the brief time that L could have had a semblance of rest right before the Yotsuba arc, he was depressed that his deductions were "wrong" — though I could see him musing about some of the above, equal parts whimsy and sulking.

L: If I start to lose my touch… I guess I’ll retire. L: Another day, another mystery… L: I have a lot of thinking to do. L: I feel like doing some capoeira… L: I haven't played tennis for a while. L: The weather today is… Well, it matters not. L: I, um… No, ignore me. L: Am I reading too much into it…?

As a thinker, L has a lot of unfinished thoughts he says out loud. Some border on cliché, others are musings about things he'd like to do or that he's missing.

I wonder if some of his thoughts end up trailing off because, suddenly, he catches himself and believes they're not important? Or that he doesn't think the MC would be interested in what he has to say beyond work matters?

L: “In spring one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn.” Though, too much sleep isn’t good for anyone. L: If you think about things persistently, noticing all the sides to them will come naturally. L: Strawberries… Despite the name, they aren’t actually berries. How berry disappointing. L: The one who has thought it through wins. It’s true for chess, and for deduction. But in the case of love… I don't know.

He's also a philosopher at heart, always thinking about the human condition. In these we can also witness his dry humour, silly puns along with a subtle desire to share his thoughts on the world and give helpful advice.

As for love, L is cautious but willing to learn. It's a topic where he's out of his depth.

L: Um, Watari is… L: I wonder if Watari’s asleep? L: What could Watari be up to? L: Today is Thanksgiving Day. I am truly grateful to Watari for his diligence.

I found it interesting how L's thoughts eventually go back to Watari and what he's doing. He's the one person that L relies on and whom he interacts with the most. Other people are passing acquaintances at best, who show little interest in L beyond work.

Notice how he mentions diligence? Although it is a utilitarian consideration, it also reveals a thankfulness for the comforts of familiarity and the peace of mind that trusting someone close brings. This is a topic we'll explore better at a later stage, i.e., how trust and acts of service work as a relationship builder.

Romance

Neutral stage

One of the first things I've noticed is that, during the early stages of the relationship, L is still very formal and quite a bit dismissive — even borderline rude. As his sugar fix gets sated by the MC's keen suggestions (Watari provides the ingredients, of course), L grows gradually more fond of them and wants to include the MC in his life with an enthusiasm I can only define as endearing.

L: Aren’t you bored? You don’t have to check in on me. L: Don’t you have stuff to do?

At the beginning, L is still wary of the MC on a personal level as they have absolutely no rapport beyond a partnership of circumstance and usefulness in the name of justice. He's quick to get bored and doesn't take it very well when he's given sweets he isn't craving. A bit childish, one could say, the way he sulks when the MC errs by not reading his mind.

L: Did I enjoy it? Let me just say “no comment”. (about sweets that weren't quite to his taste)

It's also very in-character for L to feel both annoyed at someone who is randomly calling him and be suspicious of their motives.

Growing interest

L: Spending the afternoon with you isn’t so bad. L: Even though it’s late, you’re not going to bed, huh? L: You must be a night owl, [F/N]. L: I’m a little curious about you, [F/N]. L: Are you having a good time? I’m just curious. L: You’re kind of… Ah, no, forget I said anything.

He starts addressing the MC by their first name as he becomes more enamoured. It's very sweet. I was pleasantly surprised at how attentive L becomes as he gradually comes to the conclusion that this is a person who understands him.

Mind, due to game mechanics the MC gains approval by giving L sweets, but from a narrative perspective what's really happening is that L not only feels seen and understood, but also accepted. And when that happens, he starts lowering his walls and relaxing.

As a plot device, I would say these are defining moments within L's thought process here; he's curious about the MC, finds them interesting enough to want to know more them and pursues that curiosity to see what they might have in common. It seems he's both a little baffled and content about this development.

L: [F/N], what do you think of when you see a sunset? L: What are you doing this afternoon? Oh, should I not have asked? L: Are you a night owl? Oh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.

It should also be noted that L is very mindful of boundaries. There's a tentative, almost shy attempt to connect. He's determined to indulge in his curiosity since the MC's attentiveness towards him shows an opening for closeness he's unused to (but is happy about) and to tend to his more immediate needs (i.e., food cravings), which in turn shows a genuine concern for him. Aside from Watari, I doubt anyone ever extended L similar kindness.

And it is in this determination to get to know the MC that I also find Mello's words (AA: LABB Murder Cases) that L is actually a very active, aggressive individual with absolutely no interest in social conventions perfectly represent him this game, as he navigates a growing fondness with expectation, curiosity and caution — on his own terms, while minding that he doesn't overstep.

L: Staying up late talking to you… It makes me feel calm.

I find it particularly heartbreaking how this confession of L unknowingly makes it more transparent how burdened he is. The spine curved by burdens unseen, the addiction to mind games and sweets; all of these point to stress factors which isolate him further, increasing the loneliness and lack of affection in his life.

That L feels the need to mention the MC makes him feel calm seems telling.

L: We’re both late workers, huh? That makes me happy. L: [F/N]… You’re pretty formidable. L: It’s reassuring to have a partner like you. You’re someone I can trust. L: Your feelings have been received. (Valentine's Day) L: The fact we’ve become so close was an unexpected development on my part.

And here it is, the acknowledgement just as L enters the highest stages of approval, where he expresses admiration and happiness at the close bond he developed with the MC.

"An unexpected development on my part" is quite the turn of phrase. One can only wonder, but I'd make an educated guess that L didn't see this coming because:

a) no one showed feelings towards him before. In his line of work, hidden behind a screen there is no time to indulge or get attached to anyone (he would mistrust their intentions anyway) and so L keeps everyone at arms length, sharing little more than a professional side of himself and fostering utilitarian relationships that help him win "games". L ultimately carries various burdens the average civilian would never be able to understand, all due to the pressure of his job. When failing at the "game of cat and mouse" means being responsible for the likely deaths of dozens, perhaps even hundreds or thousands, the stakes are up in unimaginable ways. What started as a thrill chase can have catastrophic consequences should L fail. That in itself alienates him from society at large. It's a game that L plays well and absolutely profits from, but it is also an indicative of two major flaws: his addictive personality and how he suppresses his emotions to carry on. Coincidentally, it's the expanded universe, in particular Another Note: LA BB Murder Case and L: Change the WorLd, that give us the best insight into this. This isn't too dissimilar to the struggles policemen face in high risk jobs or technicians who have to flag and delete sensitive content from online platforms. These people end up changed from what they see — and some carry traumas for the rest of their lives. That's not to say that L doesn't feel for others. He respects people whom he considers good or morally upstanding (Soichiro Yagami), who are competent in their line of work (Naomi Misora, Mogi), worthy of a second chance (Aiber and Wedy), who speak their minds, unafraid (Aizawa) or who are reliable, loyal to him as a person and not just his cause, in whom he can place his trust and feel secure won't betray him (Watari). The MC seems to fall mostly in the last category, though the relationship is rather precocious — and there seems to be a fair amount of wishful thinking and even projecting on L's part, since communication happens over a device connecting two people remotely. He falls both for the idea of the individual and their attentiveness towards him. When L mentions that they make him feel calm, I'd argue it comes both as a surprise to him and a confession of a closeness and safety he intimately craved — though I personally view L as someone who feels lonely and wanting healthy human contact, even if his social skills might not be the best (worsened by his distrust of people as a whole). Someone who ultimately is willing to adapt to him but whom he can adapt to, as well. Someone who sees him as a person and not an unfeeling robot. It's a POV that certainly challenges certain aspects of DN: Vol 13. I would further argue that L's portrayal has evolved significantly beyond the manga, and that his subsequent humanising is partially a result of the creative liberties the English translations took, as well as a more empathetic view of the character and hidden struggles. Each medium displays a separate iteration of L, with common variables.

b) L fosters distant relationships with others as a safety measure. Aside from Watari, L's contact with other people had always been distant, work-focused, perhaps even tainted by notions of his supposed creepiness as a kinky detective "who relished bizarre murders" (L:CtW). He's useful to the police because he achieves favourable results, though L is still viewed as "a human computer, capable only of measuring mass murders in terms of cold numbers, a reclusive sociopath" (L:CtW). He isn't necessarily liked; in fact, I would argue he rubs people the wrong way most of the time — as we can see during his interactions with the Task Force, during the events of Death Note. L is tolerated, a useful asset who is both mysterious and a pain to deal with. However, he's also put on a pedestal due to his status (i.e., Relight, the children at Wammy's). For the latter, he purposely shatters their idea of L as this unbeatable, paragon of justice by defining himself as a monster (anime), a dishonest cheating human being who hates losing (manga). I do share in lux-mea-lex's perspective on L doubting his own humanity and how it fuels a certain self-hatred for distrusting everyone around him. As lux mentions, "love comes with trust" and L is an excellent detective precisely because he questions everything and everyone — but it comes at a cost: his own loneliness. To draw a parallel, L's ultimate flaw — and that which makes him great at his job — is not unlike what we see during the moments of extreme anguish that Veronica Mars goes through in her personal relationships and which draw people away from her when she oversteps boundaries to prove she's not being lied to. That mistrust comes from experience, for people burdened with having seen too much and it's not unlike a kind of paranoia acquired when one has to deal with the worst of humanity on a daily basis.

Full reciprocity

L: [F/N] you’re the light that illuminates the dark night. That’s an exaggeration of course, but… L: What I need to live is glucose… and to talk to you. Nourishment for my brain and heart. L: When we’re together, I feel like there’s no problem we can’t solve. L: The afternoons I get to spend with you are precious to me.

When the MC achieves the stage of full reciprocity with L, he's very open to showing vulnerability and lowering his emotional defenses. I found this to be particularly sweet, as L is such a secretive man with so many hidden layers that him being willing to show such honesty with that one person he holds dear is incredible character development.

Beyond the game, I would say that achieving this stage with L would be much more difficult and, naturally, would involve going beyond picking the best sweets for him.

Something important to keep in mind is that L seems to value acts of service, as the people who interact with him more closely have some utility value and aid his work. However, L's life revolves around his work; he lives and breathes his detective work, which is why having a partner who brings him peace would be so important.

L: The time I spend with you is as important to me as the sweets. L: Good morning. It makes me really happy to see you here. L: For your sake… I’d think of a way to get through anything. We share a bond. L: When you have time, I’d like to take you to a shop that makes the best sweets. L: When you’re free, how about we play tennis together? I will have Watari reserve a court. L: If something were to happen to me… I want you, as the person I hold dearest, to carry on the L moniker. L: When my thoughts hit a dead end late at night, I feel like I’m stuck in a maze. But, having you here makes me feel reassured.

I also found it very sweet how L takes the initiative to plan for activities to do together with the MC. And how their presence, their reassuring words make him feel at ease. It seems that a loving relationship would give L a goal in life beyond his work.

Carrying on the L moniker... this quote might be the result of L's trust in the MC growing during the events of the game, or a sentiment L nurtures due to the MC being attentive enough to understand his specific cravings. But being able to read L and having the mental dexterity to become him are different things, as the latter involves a lifestyle that few would want and a complete focus on work. Even FBI agents have lives beyond work.

L: I learned from you that sweets are the bond that brings people together. L: You give me true peace of mind. No one could ever replace you. L: The way I am now, I… I can’t think straight when you’re not around. L: Being able to share this sunset with you, I couldn’t ask for anything more. L: You understand, don’t you [F/N]? What my heart so strongly desires is something more… L: When I talk to you, I feel like my senses are sharpened. Thanks to that, my radar has become more sensitive.

What a sweet guy. I love how L focuses on the little things and just wants to spend time together with the person he holds dearest. It's almost as if he daydreams a close, loving relationship — a trait that clashes with L's logical side.

This game and the expanded universe of Death Note have convinced me that there are many more layers to L than what we can see in the main story.

As Fu Takahashi, who plays L in the 2020 Japanese version of the musical, said:

“(...) A common thing about L among these versions is that, despite his superficial image as a smart guy who hates losing, he actually feels lonely and needs affection, I imagine. Perhaps he is an orphan – his character suggests so. He tries to control his emotions, like the feelings towards his parents, or romantic feelings; that’s why he is sort of dependent on games or battles of the mind. So I want to play L while thinking about the foundations on which his personality has been formed.”

I think this quote and the game are actually very telling of L's core personality and how it moves beyond that cold, calculating persona that defines him in the manga. It's also more in line with the characterisation that we see in the anime and the books, which help humanise L.

As I mentioned elsewhere, learning how to trust and be comfortable around someone else would do L wonders. Though that person would have to accept him for who he is and help him learn how to navigate a healthy relationship.

Perhaps the true test of love, for L, would even be for him to be confronted with someone who knows who he really is and, is not only kind to him, but also sees the best in him — regardless of his flaws. I think that we've had a glimpse of it in this game and it's a breath of fresh air.

[clawsdevour]

𝜗𝜚˚,. iwaizumi husband hcs

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, fluff, ideal husband goals idk bout yall, not proofread

५ *𓈒 ࣪

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to be the one to rise up early in the morning. He has a morning routine that obviously requires basic necessities like showering, brushing his teeth, and making breakfast without causing a disturbance in your slumber. However, he will wake you up with gentle forehead kisses when he knows you have something important planned on your schedule.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to plan all of your vacations and little adventures. He likes to incorporate what you want to see during the trip while being able to enjoy and unwind. He's the one booking all of the hotel rooms and researching the sightseeing spots.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to love having simple date night dinners with you. Like I said he's a planner of some sort, so he'd definitely also be reserving a restaurant he knows you'd like. Iwaizumi simply just likes to sit across from you while you talk once more as if you first met each other for the second time.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to come home late from working overtime to see you've fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him. He'd kindly wake you up by peppering you with kisses and whispering to you. When he believes you're back in your consciousness, he'll carry you back to the bedroom where you're able to sleep soundly by his side.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to send you texts throughout the day to just check up on you because he's curious. Many of them would definitely be a 'have you eaten yet?' because he cares about your physical and mental health. He likes to know that you're able to take good care of yourself while he's gone.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to give you the best massages when he realizes that you're having an even slightly rough day. He'd tell you to come sit in front of him while his large hands loom over your slump shoulders to work their magic on you. He'd also tell you how amazing and lucky he is to have you.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to enjoy the morning sight of you, just right out of bed. You could be making breakfast with your sleepy eyes that're half awake and messy hair that's still untouched. He'd think it's really cute and walk over to put his beefy arms around your waist with his chin on your shoulder while mumbling out a 'did you sleep well?'

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to love having little deep conversations about your guys' relationship right before you two sleep. You're staring right into each other's eyes while you whisper sweet little stories about how you've met and how far you've come while his giving you a kiss on the back of your hand.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to take the day off to take care of you when you're sick. He'd be in charge of your cooking your meals until you start to feel better. On days when you feel so bedridden, he'd serve you breakfast in bed while taking your temperature and changing out the dampness of the wet towel on your forehead.

-Iwaizumi, the type of husband to always dream of having children with you. He clearly states the future he wants to build which includes you being in it, he can't see one without you. He loves the idea of having your children roam around his house.

masterlist here

[filurig]

a new little spingle... info about him under the cut

a disciple of glaris in sartrill's priesthood, despite his holy position - isn't too enthusiastic about it. truthfully, he was forced into his current study by his parents as he was born as a "curlwing". "curlwings" in sartrillan culture are considered the closest to "true" children of glaris, having been born with her "blessing" of flightlessness and therefore are believed to be more strongly attuned to her, so the natural course for any young curlwing is to enter priesthood training at an early age. despite that, however, karu never excelled in his priestly studies - not that he was necessarily bad or couldn't carry out the duties he were assigned, but his superiors keep worrying that he doesn't put enough heart in it, so he has never really risen considerably in the ranks of the priesthood.

somewhat lethargic, karu accepted his "fate" - while he has faith, he also longs for being able to have his own life as life in the priesthood is relatively restricted to the holy grounds and the districts in sartill closest to it. there is a small, adventurous spirit inside of him that wishes to see more of the world, having never left sartrill in his entire life, but at this point he's sort of given up on it. he is somewhat ruled over by his fear of sticking out and not conforming and betraying the expectations of the priesthood, his family and Glaris herself.

karu can come off as quite cold and tired as he feels sort of detached from the people and circumstances around him. when brought out of his shell, however, he brightens up considerably - but can be a bit cynical still. he isn't actually as serious as he comes across as, and actually enjoys being around people who don't take things too seriously either. he tries to self-correct though and therefore that part of him is rarely seen by anyone. because of his alienation from other harpies, partly due to his upbringing and role, he's a bit socially inept, but has learned to deal with that by hiding behind his stoic and unconcerned facade. a bit of a double edged sword because it only reinforces the idea people have of him around him as this "serious, no-fun wholly dedicated priest disciple who doesn't want to mingle with the commoners"

while he wishes he had more freedom to do stuff, karu does enjoy some parts of his priestly duties - most especially the craftsmanship he gets to engage in. sartrillan priests will actually be responsible for most of the settlement's craftsmanship especially ones concerning fabric and clothing, but also other crafts (former are just the biggest categories)

flightlessness is relevant in some satrtillan mythology and in the biggest story (the one involving glaris) is a noteworthy sacrifice some crakam made to grant them the ability to hide from humans using illusory magic. that ofc creates a sort of weird relationship with crakam society and crakam born with flightless conditions. in sartrill its especially pronounced as glaris is the settlement's "patron deity" and while care is taken to accomodate to the flightless, there is also a social schism between them and other crakam bcs of their connotations and also the fact that most flightless crakam are "strongly encouraged" and often forced to live in the priesthood.

craftsmanship is strongly associated with holiness/the priesthood in sartrill because the body alterations flighted harpies undergo to render themselves flightless permanently actually increases arm flexibility a little, and historically being unable to fly it was a natural direction for many priests to head in to contribute to the community which might be why it became such a strong practice

there are several different conditions that can make a harpy not be flighted - curlfeather is one of them. any condition which does such is treated similarly - it doesn't really matter which, but curlfeather is probably the most common/well known one.

[bunnis-monsters]

I saw you wanted fluff so maybe naga husband and his chubby wife going on a picnic with their young hatchlings and he teaches them how to sit in the sun to digest food but mamas still a little sore from labor so she joins them!

You watch, walking slowly as your husband and chubby little hatchlings slither ahead of you. You’re just exhausted, wanting to rest, but staying cooped up in your husband’s den has got you going a bit stir-crazy.

He suggested a picnic, and usually he would carry you, but today he was a bit preoccupied with the children, making sure they stayed in line and didn’t start too far from the path.

You continued to waddle, wiping the sweat from your brow. It was hot and humid, but the picnic was right by a lake, meaning you’d be able to cool off!

As your husband laid out the blanket and fed the hatchlings, you dipped into the water for a quick swim, sighing in relief once you had cooled down a bit.

Unfortunately, the water seemed to chill you too much.

Your husband was purring, watching them swallow small mice and frogs, gently nuzzling their heads. He was a really affectionate father, not like the myths you had heard about nagas. He didn’t eat your young now send them off after birth, no, he nurtured and tough them his way.

“Come along, little ones. There’s a nice rock in the sun.”

As they slithered away, your teeth chattered, and you wanted to whine and complain to your husband so he’d coddle and kiss you.

But you knew he was just trying to take the responsibility of taking care of so many hatchling right after birth off of your shoulders, so you couldn’t be upset.

Instead, you watched, a bit intrigued as they sunbathed on a large rock, the little ones letting out satisfied coos. They weren’t like human babies, they came out slithering and able to eat entire animals whole… but there were still your babies, and watching them babble and stretch out in the sun gave you cuteness aggression.

You waddled to the rock. Your husband looked up for a moment, ready to do whatever you needed, but he settled back down when you curled up at his side.

“You’re cold…” he said softly, his forked tongue darting out to catch your scent.

“Yeah, that water was nice, but it felt like I was freezing when I stepped out.”

He nodded, nuzzling his face into your neck. The little ones whined and slithered to you, resting their heads on your soft belly and legs, wanting to be close to their mama.

The little family took a nap out in the sun together, all happy and warm.

———————

SFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @zyettemoon1800 @kassandra-hawthorne @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @readeryn68 @danielle143 @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @hammerhead96-blog @bubblez-blop @snugglyshoji @wanderlustingcastaway @amberexe2 @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

How Far Are You Willing To Go? - 1

PAIRINGS: Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

SUMMARY: Amid a quiet life post-divorce initiated by Ghost himself, his past resurfaces when his ex-wife and their young children are abducted. He's thrust into a desperate race against time to save them, facing his own demons and fighting to protect his family at any cost. Question is, how far is he willing to go?

WARNINGS: Angst, if you squint. Simon being a dummy for getting a divorce. Incorrect knowledge of allergies and asthma (please help a girlie out)

WORD COUNT: 1,096

*not proof-red*

ENJOY!

“Rylan needs to take his-,” you immediately get interrupted by his low and rough voice. “Meds, by seven in the evening after having his dinner. Yeah, I know,” you can’t help but feel that there is a trace of disdain in his voice.

Oh, how you’ve heard so many variations of that voice. From the usual rough and dark, to how soft and loving it could go. The latter was a rarity for people to hear, who meet him outside of your home’s doors. For you, however, it was common. Was being the key word. It may have not been the voice you heard 24/7, but it was a voice you heard daily.

You look at him and eye the black surgical mask he wears, “right,” you pause. “Just wanted to make sure,” you give him a purse smile, before bending down to be at eye level with your six-year-old.

“Kyla, be good and take care after your brother. Be kind in school and do your homework. Call me if you ever need some help with it, ok?” You try to wear out the imaginary creases on her little brown cardigan.

She nods her head like a mini determined soldier and says a very affirmative ‘yes Mama.” Then you move over to kneel in front of your youngest, Rylan. The four-year-old with the many existing allergies. He rubs his nose, and you tut at him, “use a tissue honey, here blow into this.” You hand him the handkerchief you always carry around for this exact reason. “Do you have your inhaler?” You ask your boy, and he nods proudly as he reaches into his pocket and shows you the small piece of plastic.

“Call me if you need Mama, ok Rylan?” You rest your hands on his shoulders, and pat down on the sweater, you look into the light brown eyes he inherited from his father and kiss his forehead. He nods at you one last time before turning around and running to your ex-husband’s family truck. Kyla kisses your cheek one last time before screaming a “buh-bye Mama” and running off to catch up with her little brother.

You stand back up and cross your arms, heart hurting a little knowing you’d be spending two weeks without your children. But what can you do? Not complain, of course.

It was part of the divorce agreement that Simon is allowed to have the children over at his place for three weeks maximum, whenever he returns from deployment. You reluctantly agreed, purely to the reason that you wouldn’t survive if you were in Simon’s place and couldn’t be able to see your kids.

You were kind in that way.

Simon loved you for it.

He loved everything about you.

He still does.

The ice around his heart thaws as he sees your eyes become bleary as you watch the kids climb into his backseat.

He hates seeing you sad.

He does everything in his power to mask the emotions he feels, and he does it well.

“Well,” you sniffle, “I-uh….I’ll leave you to it then.” You wipe your eyes nonchalantly before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as a sort of distraction to what you feel currently.

It was always hard for you whenever Simon comes to pick up the kids.

The mother hen in you does not want to send them with him. But you know, a 100 percent sure, that they’re safer with him than with you, considering Simon’s military experience.

One of the main reason’s Simon broke things off with you.

Simon nod’s, his hands remain in the pockets of his hoodie. You lift the little paw patrol and the little Bluey child suitcases and hand it to him. “There are three weeks’ worth of clothes in there, for each of them,” you stick your hands to the side immediately after he takes them into his rough and calloused ones.

“Please call me if-,” you start, but he interrupts you again. “Anything happens. Yeah, I know,” he says with a rough tone that says, “you seriously think they’ll get hurt with me?”.

“Right…...right,” you nod as you whisper, the words more of a reassurance to you.

You try to peak at his eyes under his hoodie, but to no avail, you couldn’t see them under his black tainted sports sunglasses.

His phone starts to ring, and he pulls out of his back pocket to see the caller ID revealing the caller “Price”.

“I’ll see you in two weeks then,” you say, knowing he has to go. He nods in response before turning away and heading back to his truck, he places the suitcases in the passenger seat before double checking the buckles on the child-seat’s where Kyla and Rylan are sat in.

He does all the dad checkup’s before getting in the driver’s seat.

He see’s you through the tainted windows of his truck.

He rolls the back window down so the kids can say their final goodbye’s

“Bye Mama!” Both kids scream and the wave with smiles on their faces. You chuckle wetly as tears silently roll down your cheeks.

You know they’re safe with Simon, but you heart still hurts that they won’t be around for a while.

Simon sees the tears and his own heart breaks.

He pulls out of the driveway with a heavy heart, hating to see the love of his life in tears.

He sighs before pulling out his phone and clicking on Price’s caller ID.

The old Captain picks up after two rings.

“Ghost, we need you.”

🎀🎀🎀

TAGLIST <3: @cntloup @identity2212 @somnorvos @yyiikes @bobateasilverpearl @animarix @outoftheseine

Guess who's back? Back again?

Hey Lovelies!

I know it's been a while, but uni has started and I am trying to re-slay. Here is the much-awaited Simon series I have always wanted to start.

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!

Also....

Lemme know what y'all think!

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[nadvs]

home before dark (part six)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe didn’t have a drop of alcohol last night, yet he feels violently hungover this morning.

He stares up at the ceiling of your guest room, running on a few hours of broken sleep. He feels so exposed. Once he started talking to you, he couldn’t stop.

He was fine living an empty life. But then you walked back into it, completely unaware of how painful it is to be around you. But it feels so damn good, too.

Nonetheless, when he looks at you, he sees his doomed childhood, his lost happiness. He’s not sure the good will ever outweigh the bad. Especially because he’ll never be able to tell you the entire story. You’ll never completely understand why he is the way he is.

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you to leave last night. You were just trying to help. After so many instances of telling himself he’d stop brushing you away, he’d stop acting like your asshole of an ex, he did it again.

But telling himself he should do something and actually doing it are two very different things. Everything in this nonsensical world is easier said than done.

You’re making breakfast in your kitchen, your temples aching from the sadness that hasn’t left you.

Rafe wasn’t awake before you for once. You don’t know how you’ll face him. You feel just as powerless as you felt when you were ten, unsure of what to say to him or how to act around him.

He was in the car. It won’t stop clanging around in your head. He was with her the last minute she was alive.

And when you tried to hold him, to be there for him, he told you to go away. You know better than to attempt to get him to talk about it again.

“Hey.” Rafe’s deep voice pulls you out of your haze. You look up to see him standing by the far counter, then return your gaze back down to the pan. For once, you’re the one avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” you reply. Your shoulders are stiff. You know he wants to leave. “Just a second.”

You pull the pan off the range and cross the kitchen, pacing to the front of the house. When you open the door and re-arm the security system, you step to the side, hand tight on the knob.

You will yourself to look up at him, meeting his blue eyes. He’s standing between you and the front step of your home, unmoving.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. “Maybe have some breakfast?”

It’s like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, taking another risk of rejection, expecting to fall but having a shred of hope that he’ll pull you to solid ground.

“I can’t.” He walks past you, a hard push off the edge. You’re disappointed. In him for denying you again. In yourself for thinking he wouldn’t.

You’ve always felt safe with him. But right now, while he’ll protect you physically, your heart isn’t even close to feeling whole. He’ll break it every chance he gets.

You spend your morning in a haze. You wish you could carry at least some of Rafe’s pain for him, but he’ll never fully open up to you. Last night, when he told you about the accident, he pushed you away the second you tried to comfort him.

After lunch, you realize you can’t handle being alone any longer. You text a friend and accept her invitation to hang out at her house.

Talking with your friend about everything but what’s been weighing on you is a welcome distraction for a couple of hours. Rafe is always at the back of your mind, but being with someone else helps ease the pain.

After you say your goodbyes, you walk down to the street where you parked. You notice a white paper rectangle tucked under your windshield wiper.

Your stomach drops. Normally, you’d assume it’s a ticket of some sort. That maybe you parked where you’re not supposed to. But you know that’s not what this is.

You pluck the paper from under the wiper and get into your car, trembling as you lock all the doors. You look around, terrified you’ll meet Ty’s stare.

But you’re alone. Nobody is around.

You rip open the envelope. On the top inner fold, in his messy writing: I always have my eyes on you.

Fear’s razor-sharp claws squeeze your insides when you pull out what’s in the envelope. Photos of you from the past few days. At the gas station. At the mall. At the pool.

Ty’s been following you. Taking pictures.

You lock your doors again, even though you know you already did. You’re at a loss for what to do. Where to go.

Just walking up the driveway back to your friend’s house is daunting. And going home to an empty house is just as scary.

So, you go to the one person you know will take away the fear. You drive, park, and find his name in your phone.

Rafe is sitting on the balcony leading out of his bedroom when his phone starts buzzing. He sees your name on the screen and scrambles to answer as fast as possible.

“You okay?” Rafe says.

“No.” Your voice is shaky. “No. He’s been following me.”

“Where are you?” he asks, standing and rushing to find his keys.

“I’m in front of your house.”

“Good,” he says. He tucks his gun into the band of his jeans. “Good. It’s okay. I’ll be right down.”

Rafe spots your car at the end of his driveway. When his eyes find you, he’s sure he’s never seen someone look so shell-shocked. He tugs at the passenger door handle a few times before you catch on that you need to unlock it.

He settles in the seat next to you, brows furrowed in worry, watching you stare ahead at your steering wheel.

“I don’t even know how I - I drove here,” you stutter with a humorless laugh. You’re in a fog.

“What’d he do?” he asks.

Your eyes dart down to the ripped open envelope in your cup holder. Rafe grabs it and leafs through the photos. Anger climbs up his body in half a second.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters.

“He left it on my car,” you say.

You can’t let Ty do this to you anymore. You’re not above wishing Rafe would beat him within an inch of his life. You want to fight back in every possible way you can. You want him to lose.

“I think this is enough to go to the police,” you breathe. “I need a restraining order or something. I can’t just watch this happen. I mean, I have enough evidence of - of stalking, right?”

Saying the word out loud is what finally breaks you. The tears you’ve been pushing down rush up without any mercy. You start to cry quietly, your chest heaving.

“Listen to me,” Rafe says softly. “He’ll pay for this.”

All he can feel is a burning urge to protect you. To make sure you never feel this way again. He’s not leaving your side for a minute.

You sense Rafe’s hand on your knee. It’s like you’re watching this happen to someone who looks and sounds like you because he can’t possibly be happening to you.

“You want me to drive?” he asks.

You nod, tears rolling down your face, unbuckling your seatbelt.

You watch Rafe’s knuckles turn white as he drives your car down the street. You ask him to stop at your house to grab the letter Ty left for you, glad you didn’t throw it out in haste, and arrive at the police station carrying the proof of your ex’s incessant hounding.

Rafe tucks his gun under the seat before going inside.

The building is dingy. You approach the front desk, locking eyes with the man sitting behind a computer, his uniform dull and washed out.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“I need to file a restraining order,” you say. The words feel odd coming out of your mouth.

The officer hands you a sheet of paper on a clipboard and a pen, instructing you to come back up to the desk after you fill it out.

It’s vile. You’re scared for your life and in response, a stranger hands you a form.

The waiting room is empty. You and Rafe settle in the worn, ripped up leather seats. You look down at the words in front of you, your hands trembling.

“Here,” he says, taking the clipboard and pen from you. You’re too shaken up to focus.

You watch Rafe write your full name at the top. Your address. Your date of birth. He remembers it all.

Then, he drags the pen over every box that applies to you.

The defendant and I are persons who are in or have been in a romantic relationship. He marks it with an X.

The defendant has inflicted emotional distress on me. X.

I want the Court to order the defendant not to assault, threaten, follow or harass me. X.

I believe I am in danger of serious or immediate injury.

Rafe looks to you.

“Not when you’re around,” you say honestly. “But you can check it.”

When Rafe comes across the blank sections, he sniffs in unease before reading the instructions out loud.

“Give specific dates and describe in detail what happened,” he recites. He doesn’t want to hear this. “Just talk. I’ll write.”

You go through it all from the beginning. The aggressive text messages. The in-person threats. The email. The letter. The photos. Rafe writes it all down. His stomach turns as he listens to you recount it all.

You take the clipboard to record what’s left: Ty’s contact information.

You drop the form off at the front desk and sit back down. Rafe watches you blankly stare ahead, your knees anxiously bouncing.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbles. You nod, unconvinced.

“We can grant you an emergency protective order,” a police officer tells you after taking you and Rafe to a private room. “There’ll be a court hearing within ten days. You need an attorney to represent you and to help prove that the letter and photos are from him.”

“Okay,” you say. The old man across the table is speaking like he’s talking about something boring, like the weather.

“So, wait - are you saying - he can just walk around free until then?” Rafe asks.

The officer looks at Rafe, his face emotionless. Then he looks at you again.

“The defendant will be informed about the temporary order and he’ll be told not to contact you,” he responds. “If he violates the terms, you need to let us know. But a judge will determine if a permanent order should be granted. It’s up to them to decide if this person is a danger to you.”

“Are you kidding?” Rafe shuffles in his seat, shaking his head. “Someone’s gonna tell him to stay away from her and - and that’s it? Until a judge maybe makes it official?”

“That’s the way the law works,” the officer says.

“The law is bullshit.”

“Reconsider your tone, young man,” the cop warns.

Rafe scoffs, like he’s taking it as a challenge. You’re frustrated that the man is being so cold about this, but Rafe’s hostility isn’t helping.

“Rafe,” you say, placing your hand on his forearm. “Can you wait for me outside?”

He meets your eyes. He realizes he’s stressing you out. Times like these, he hates his temper.

Rafe has been standing by the front doors of the building for five minutes when you come out, your arms crossed.

“I didn’t mean to…” he mutters. “He was just so goddamn casual about the whole thing-”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I know.”

You still feel like this is a nightmare you’re waiting to wake up from. Your parents are overseas for work, totally oblivious to what’s happening. You need to call them. How the hell do you even deliver this kind of news?

“Did he say anything else?” Rafe asks as you make your way to your car.

“He just told me I should get a lawyer as soon as I can,” you say. “I found one in the area and I called her office. I have a meeting with her tomorrow.”

You’re still shaky and you’re glad Rafe is heading for the driver’s side without you having to ask him. You settle in your car, locking yourselves in silence.

He’s not starting the engine. He’s just looking at you. You meet his eyes and try not to think about last night.

“You’re scared,” he says. Your eyelids flutter. You are scared. The last twenty-four hours have been a mess.

Rafe wallows in the feelings of failure and self-pity. He’s supposed to make you feel safe and he’s fucking it up. You look terrified.

“I’m not gonna leave your side, alright?” he says. “I’ll make sure you’re never alone until he stops. And he will stop.”

Normally, you’d ask him if he can really take that on. But you have to ask yourself if you can take it on first. Being around someone who’s committed to keeping you at a distance is starting to wear on you. But this all started so he’d keep you safe. Whether you can handle it or not, you will.

Rafe grimaces when you don’t respond. Maybe he’s not enough. Maybe you need to feel like you have the power to keep yourself safe, too.

“I’m teaching you how to use a gun,” he decides.

“What?” you say. You can’t have heard him right.

“You won’t be scared if you know how to protect yourself,” he says. Then he shoves the key into the ignition and drives to his house to swap to his bike.

You cling onto Rafe as he drives his motorcycle along the coast. He approaches a clearing in an overgrown field. You can understand why he changed vehicles when you feel how choppy the terrain is. He navigates over the grass and stops under a tree.

“How do you even know about this place?” you ask once he kills the engine and you take off his helmet.

Rafe doesn’t want to admit that he passes by this barren corner of the island several times a month to pick up coke from his dealer. That he’s been here to shoot at nothing multiple times before.

“Just do,” he says. “Come on.”

You swing your leg off his motorcycle, wishing you didn’t feel the loss of his touch as deeply as you do.

When Rafe leads you deeper into the clearing under the cloudy afternoon sky, the road now out of sight, he pulls his gun out of the back of his jeans. It’s unreal watching him adjust the weapon in his hands, how casually he’s handling something that could kill a person.

You look over your shoulder, wondering if Ty is hiding somewhere. Will you always be on edge like this, worrying his eyes are on you?

You glance back at Rafe.

“Where’d… you learn?” you mumble. “To use it.”

Rafe looks up at you. Your eyes are wide. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He was being impulsive when he suggested this. He forgot how you looked at him when you noticed his gun at the party a few nights ago. He’s supposed to be making you feel safe. But you look freaked out.

“If this is a bad idea, we don’t have to do this,” he says. “I was-”

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re right. I’ll feel better knowing I can defend myself if it… if it comes to that.”

The thought sends a chill through your body. You try to shake away your fear.

“I was just wondering,” you say.

“I taught myself,” Rafe admits.

“How come?”

His jaw clenches.

“I told you, sometimes I get pissed off and…” He tries to bring down the sharpness of his tone. “This helps. It feels good. You’ll see.”

You can tell just how heavy his soul is as you watch him focus, sliding the magazine of the gun in and out. You wonder how many times he’s come out here, running towards a twisted form of solace.

You get it. You don’t know how you’d react if what happened to him happened to you, but you doubt it’d be very different from this. You’d be angry at the world, too. You’d want to take it out any way you can.

Rafe steps closer to you, opening the chamber, every column in it filled.

“It’s loaded,” he tells you. “You can see the bullets here. Safety’s on.”

He closes the chamber and offers the gun to you. It’s heavy in your hand as he rounds to stand behind you.

“You see that tree over there?” he says, his voice low. You follow his finger to see a tall, broken stump in the distance. It looks like it was hit by lightening and torn in half.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Aim at it,” he instructs you. “Use both hands. It’ll have some kick.”

You’re tense as you raise the gun towards the tree. You have one hand wrapped around the grip of the gun and tuck the other underneath the barrel.

“Like this,” he mumbles. His arms encircle you, his chest firm against your back. Your breath catches as he rests his hands over yours. He guides your left hand closer to your right, adjusting your fingers to spread wider.

“Safety’s on,” he reminds you. “Just get used to the feeling, alright?”

“Alright,” you say.

His forefinger settles over yours, pushing down on the blocked trigger.

“This is where you press down,” he says. You nod against him.

Rafe’s trying not to notice how nice your shampoo smells. The way your body feels enclosed in his. The fact that his heart started racing the second he gets close to you like this.

“You ready for me to turn off the safety?” he asks you, zeroing in on the reason he’s here. You nod and in seconds, the loaded gun in your hands is completely unguarded.

“It’ll be loud, okay?” he mumbles. You feel his warm breath against your cheek. “You don’t have to be scared. You have all the power here.”

You feel like you haven’t had any power in a long time. You take a few breaths before you pull the trigger. The bang is ear-splitting and force is hard, jolting your arm, sending the bark on the tree flying within a second. You actually hit your target.

You lose your stability, hands loosening beneath Rafe’s. He quickly pulls the gun back and turns the safety on again.

“Shit,” he says amusedly. “You did it.”

You’re in disbelief that you’re doing this and that it kind of felt good. You turn to look up at Rafe, who’s towering behind you.

Your eyes are locked as you stand together in the desolate patch of unkept greenery. You’re silent now and so is he, your breaths in unison.

“Feel better?” he finally asks.

“Yeah.”

Rafe has spent so long harboring hatred for everyone, including himself. But as he drinks in your features and the way they come together so beautifully, he’s sure he doesn’t hate you and never has. How could he when you look at him like this, like you’re expecting the best from him after all he’s done is disappoint you?

Just like last night, the words come rushing out of Rafe’s mouth. He’s getting worse at keeping them in around you. It’s still uncharted territory, so he’s struggling to find out how to say exactly what he’s thinking.

“I don’t…” he says. He starts over. “You should be… happy. I mean, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with all this.”

You chew on your lip. He’s right. Nobody should have to suffer like this, scared of a maniac who won’t leave them alone, who seems to find pleasure in inflicting fear.

Rafe hates that you’re fighting for your own comfort. You deserve to live in ease.

“Thanks,” you say. You gaze into his eyes, wishing they didn’t see what they saw when he was ten years old. “I want you to be happy, too.”

Rafe’s lids drop, his sharp jaw tightening as he grinds his teeth. He can’t cry in front of you. Not again.

“Give it another try,” he says, handing the gun back to you after turning off the safety. You take it in steady hands, aiming at the tree. He doesn’t hold you this time.

After a few seconds of concentration, you pull the trigger and miss. Then you try once more. You hit your target. You can’t imagine ever using this on a person. But if it comes down to it, to your life or Ty’s, you’re picking yours every time.

You lower the gun, realizing your breaths are faster now.

“I think that’s enough,” you say, your stare still fixed ahead. You feel Rafe slowly take the weapon out of your hands again, his fingers brushing yours.

“You wanna go home?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Without another word, you head back to your house, feeling Rafe’s heart thudding against your palm as you cling onto him on his bike.

Rafe waits in the front room while you try to call your parents. Neither of them answer, likely asleep in their timezone.

You put your phone away, looking defeated. He said he wouldn’t leave your side and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“I’ll try again in the morning,” you tell him. “You can just make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge. I’m gonna go lie down.”

Rafe nods, his elbows on his knees as he sits forward on the couch, as if he’s ready to strike any threat that might come your way.

You stand and cross the space, then breathe out a slow exhale when you reach the end of the room, your hand on the edge of the wall.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, glancing back at him. “I know it’s hard for you to be around me. My parents will fly back after I talk to them and you won’t have to do this anymore.”

You round the corner, leaving him with his thoughts.

It’s not until after sunset that you come back downstairs, feeling trapped in your own home. Rafe is where you left him, scrolling on his phone, surely bored.

“Hey,” you say. You got a text from a friend a few minutes ago about a party at a house down the street. “You wanna get out of here?”

More people are drunk than sober when you arrive at the party, the music and chatter almost deafening. Rafe is brushing through the crowds in front of you.

You spot your friends on the other side of the room and find some relief in seeing people you know actually want to be in your company.

You tug at his shirt to get his attention. Rafe turns and leans down to hear you over the music.

“I’ll be with my friends,” you tell him. He pulls back, confusion in his stare.

“You sure you should go on your own?” he asks.

“You’ll be close, right?” you say.

Rafe shuffles in place, looking tense before he leans over to speak again.

“I’m fine being around you, okay?” he says, thinking about what you said back at your house. “If that’s what this is about.”

He’s fine. You don’t miss the coldness of his words. He’s simply fine being around you, while you ache for him when he’s gone.

“I don’t want to just be… tolerated,” you confess. “I’ll stand over there and I won’t move.”

“Aren’t we supposed to pretend we’re together?” he asks, suddenly desperate to feel you. He offers his hand. You look down at it.

For the first time, you don’t want to touch him. Because you’re so painfully aware that this is all a farce. Because you went through so much today that keeping up appearances feels ridiculous.

When you don’t take Rafe’s hand, the sting of rejection pools through him.

“I don’t care about fooling him anymore,” you say. “We don’t have to keep lying to everyone.”

You offer him a sad smile and brush past him. Your friends’ faces fall when they see you. That’s when you know you’re wearing your anguish for everyone to see.

You stand against the wall, alert and sharp-eyed in case Ty shows up. Maybe he won’t. Maybe the police scared him from even risking being in the same room as you.

He doesn’t seem to be here. But you’re drained of all hope a mere half-hour later when you suddenly see your ex in the crowd. When his gaze meets yours, his lips thin in anger.

Like an animal charging towards its prey, he rushes towards you, shoving past people. You look around and feel overwhelming relief when you see Rafe’s profile locked on Ty as he scrambles to get to him.

“You went to the fucking police?” Ty shouts, rushing towards you.

Even over the music, you can hear the sound of Rafe’s fist making contact with Ty’s jaw. The crowd quickly scatters, shouts erupting as they clear out the space.

Everyone runs away but you. You step forward, watching in disbelief as Rafe leans over, one hand on Ty’s collar, the other delivering blow after blow.

Rafe’s knuckles ache with every punch as Ty lies on the ground, absorbing every strike, slack-jawed. He sees red. Every punch is harder than the last.

“Don’t follow her, don’t talk to her, don’t even fucking look at her!” Rafe yells. “Do you hear me?”

Pure rage fills his veins as he takes everything out with his fist. Every reason he’s so painfully angry. The misery you’re going through. The loss he feels every single day. The fact that people like this get to live when his mother doesn’t.

“Rafe, that’s enough, man!” you hear. You watch two of Rafe’s friends pull him off. He scrambles to get out of their grip.

You can see Ty clearer now. His face is covered in blood, his head rocking side to side.

You turn to see Rafe is pinned against the wall, a third friend now holding him back. His jerks to get free are violent and frantic. Until he sees you.

You look shattered. He stills. You close the distance.

“Let’s go,” you say, unable to recognize your own voice. “Please.”

Rafe’s friends look at each other, never having seen him settle down so quickly. They loosen their grip off of him and he hurries to you, his body curving over yours in an effort to shield you from everything that just happened.

As you rush out of the party, Rafe’s hand is pressed at the small of your back. You’re glad it is, because you’re not sure you’d be able to handle anything without him keeping you steady right now.

When you make it home, your heart is still pounding in your ears. In the moonlight, you noticed how bloody Rafe’s knuckles were as he drove, so you impulsively lead him to the closest bathroom on the first floor of your home.

He doesn’t realize what you’re doing until you turn on the faucet, checking the temperature of the water before you take his hand in yours and wash off the evidence of the fight.

Blood starts to pool down into the sink in a spiral. It wasn’t that long ago you watched Rafe cleaning himself up like this at his house the night he agreed to pretend to date you.

You turn off the tap and take a hand towel, gently dabbing his swollen knuckles. Rafe watches you, the way your face twists in concentration, his lips parted as he breathes heavily.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

You’re not thinking straight. You’re doing this because you feel like you owe him for making Ty pay for what he’s been doing to you, but it’s better not to be touching like this. Not when you know it’s a matter of time before he goes back to being a stranger.

“I guess you can do this yourself,” you say nervously. You hold out the towel for him to take with his good hand.

Ever since Rafe fell into this destructive pattern of fighting, he did this part on his own. Cleaning himself up, dealing with the ache, breathing through the residual adrenaline. Nobody ever took care of him like this. He never let them.

Really, he never let you. Because you were the only one holding out a hand while everyone else watched him drown.

“Can you?” he mumbles. You look up at him, puzzled. He always rejects your offers to help. But not now.

“You want me to?” you say. Your voice is brittle, echoing in your small bathroom.

His eyes are soft, as soft as they were when he was a boy, and he nods.

You continue to press the towel against his knuckles. You look at his hand, thinking about the way you watched it write for you earlier today, recording every detail of the torment you’ve lived through over the past few weeks.

What would’ve Ty done if he got his hands on you tonight? And how could Rafe think so low of himself, call himself a psycho, say he fucks everything up, when he could be the only reason you’re alive right now?

“You okay?” he mumbles. You look up, realizing he’s watching you and can see the anxiety etched into your expression.

“The court order didn’t work,” you respond. “It didn’t scare him. It’s a good thing you were there. Thank you.”

Rafe has never felt sure about his place in the world. Not after his loss. But the sense of purpose that taking care of you has given him, the feeling of being told it was good he was somewhere, is unlike anything else.

He flexes his throbbing hand, your words from earlier tonight rattling in his mind. The insinuation that he tolerates you. It’s wrong. It may bring back bad memories to be around you, but it’s not like he’s merely putting up with you, like he’s eager to get rid of you.

“Should I get you ice?” you offer.

Rafe doesn’t answer. He only stares at you.

“I don’t just tolerate you,” he says after a moment, his voice rough.

Your heart aches. Tears prick your eyes. You inhale slowly, your face crumpling with sorrow.

“What is it?” he says.

“I can’t… You told me not to talk about it.”

Rafe chews on the inside of his cheek. He can tell how much it’s been hurting you, how much you’ve been yearning to have this conversation.

“Say it.”

You look down, so overwhelmed that it hurts, accepting his invitation.

“What happened to you was… I don’t have the words. I never did,” you whisper. “It changed you but I can still see parts of who you were before. You’re a good person. Maybe you don’t think so, but you never stopped being good. You asked me why I care about you. That’s why.”

Rafe is speechless. Everything in him is urging him to walk away from you again. The closer he gets to you, the more it hurts. The more it reminds him.

He ignores the impulse to leave. He lets you keep talking.

“And I understand why you shut me out. You were grieving. I’m just so… so, so sorry.” You know it’s a risk to say, but this might be your only chance to tell him. You take a breath. “She’d be so proud of you, Rafe. I know it.”

You stare up at him through your lashes. Finally, you’ve said everything you’ve been wanting to say to him for years.

To hear someone he trusts telling him his mother would be proud of the man he’s become, even when he always feels so angry and rotten and broken, gives Rafe an overpowering sense of relief.

Then, it creeps up on him, the way he can’t bear that he survived and she didn’t. She should have stayed alive. Why did he deserve it? Why didn’t she?

You watch Rafe’s face fall, brows pinching, eyes starting to gleam with tears. Seeing him cry because of what you just said is a punch in the gut.

You should give him space. It’s what he always wants. But just in case he needs any of the comfort you can offer him, you give into your impulse to touch him. At this point, it’s senseless to fight it.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, bringing him close to you, squeezing him into a hug. When he doesn’t return your embrace, you start to retreat, but then you feel big hands drag up your waist, pulling you back in.

Rafe digs his head into the crook of your neck. His body starts to tremble with his cries. And finally, he surrenders himself to you completely.

(part seven)

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[she-is-ovarit]

The intersection of male supremacy and white supremacy: Sperm donation corruption and rape by deception of women.

Jonathan Jacob Meijer.

(There is a Netflix documentary: Man with 1000 kids)

Several women went to this Norwegian man seeking a sperm donor. He had great hair. He had great teeth. He traveled and made Youtube blogs of everywhere he went, to all of these different countries. These women went through a private website as opposed to a clinic. He told these women that his intentions were to donate to a maximum of five families.

As they began getting pregnant and giving birth, some bumped into each other. And what a funny coincidence it was that they happened to share the same donor. And then more met and knew of each other. And some realized that their kids were in the same day camp together, and what were the odds of that?

And as it turns out, this man was operating under several different aliases and traveling internationally, donating to 11 different sperm banks under different names, providing sperm privately for women on the side. And he didn't just donate to five women, he donated to hundreds of women, many of whom connected with each other over social media and formed an online group where all were concerned with what he was doing. And this resulted in thousands of children directly related to this man internationally.

And he didn't just use his sperm, but would also meet up with his bald scarred friend and mix their sperm together in the sample bottle, so many of these women non-consensually conceived children with a man they had never even heard of without realizing it. And him and his buddy and other serial donors would "joke" that they were spreading their "white seed" when they would travel to places like Hong Kong and Kenya.

When he was finally tried in court he stated that if there was concern about incest, the children can all simply wear and use a social media symbol that brands them as his so they can recognize each other. And a female judge (who's name I cannot seem to find online) in a Dutch court, sentenced him to 100,000 euro fine for every time he donated if he was ever found donating again and required him to contact the donor banks and request his material be destroyed.

Donald Cline

(Also a Netflix documentary on this: Our Father)

A fertility (gynecology and obstetrics) doctor in the 1980s who welcomed women into his clinic before cryogenic freezing of sperm was a thing and it was freshly inseminated through a procedure. He let the women know that he was using the sperm of medical students and that there would be no more than three times sperm from the same student would be used. Some women, who weren't able to conceive with their husband for one reason or another, also came into the clinic wanting to use their own husband's sperm.

Years later a woman who grew up knowing that part of her DNA was from a sperm donor began wanting to connect with her potential siblings on 23&Me. She was shocked to discover at least 10 siblings she was related to. She got in touch with them.

It turns out that Dr. Cline proceeded to use his own sperm on the female patients, hiding somewhere in the clinic to produce it immediately before using it to inseminate unsuspecting women. This man covertly reproductively exploited several women and "fathered" 94 children. Whenever the children would try to meet with him, he would show up intentionally carrying a gun to intimidate them.

One of his biological daughters, who didn't realize Cline was her biological father until adulthood, even had him as her own gynecologist. He performed pap smears and breast exams on her. He knew that she was his biological offspring and she did not have the knowledge and therefore the option to decline being sexually examined by her biological father.

Dr. Cline was also tried in court by the victims; however, the judge was sympathetic to him.

____________________________________________________________

This form of sociopathy not only majorly creates significant consequences to the gene pool for our human species as these half siblings are at higher risk of incest, but the psychological harm done to the mothers and the children are horrific. Some of these (now adult) children have described an entire undoing of their self-identity, and many struggled in processing that the men who may have raised them was not their biological father. Some of these mothers are teaching their children to always ask whoever they date if they were ever conceived by a donor. These mothers now wrestle with conflicting emotions - the fact that they were betrayed, taken advantage of, and used to fulfill a man's god-complex, while also finally having a child or children that they love with all of their hearts who were a result of a violating situation.

These two men share two other things in common: they have both argued that they were "helping" these women. That these women came to them in need and that they were engaging in philanthropy and giving them what these women wanted. That they should be grateful.

And that they were interested in contributing to the white race. In addition to Meijer's comments in "spreading white seed", Jacoba, one of the child victims of fertility fraud/the reproductive rape of her mother by Donald Cline, described how he was using her mother as a pawn repeatedly to fulfill religious, male supremacist, and white supremacist ideals to spread the white race.

Now, look:

Presently there are little to no regulations or legal enforcement in preventing men from committing fertility fraud/this form of sexual violation and reproductive exploitation of women. There are little to no consequence for men substantially altering the genetic pool and using women as chattel and children as genetic products. In fact, Meijer was the first case in which a judge placed restrictions on male reproductive autonomy as a consequence for causing sexual, psychological, and evolutionary harm.

[rockpaperimpala]

So about Netflix's the Last Airbender....

I am literally so confused you guys. You made me think I would HATE this show. And I LOVED it. Me. Known perfectionist and hater.

Katara was lovely. Yes, she started as a more soft spoken character than her cartoon version, but she was still passionate and hopeful throughout, just visibly unsure of herself. I think people were thrown off by this actress' natural way of expressing herself, which is Different from animated katara for sure, but not bad. Then she spends the whole season growing in Confidence and Fire. I Adored her fight with Paku, it really did feel like a payout of the whole season's development, and the bending kicked ass!

The Bending Kicked ass!!! The martial arts was fun and fast and creative and exciting! It looked SO good. That alone would be enough reason for me to watch and enjoy any show.

Zuko's actor was fantastic. He really captured the rage and confusion of this 16 year old banished prince. And there were so many Added moments between him and Iroh wich to me enriched their relationship. Like YES! This is why I'm watching, to see more of them, to see things done a little differently.

Iroh facing the consequences of his actions at Ba Sing Se!! That's what I'm here for!

Zuko's relationship with the men on his ship! That's what I'm here for!

The Extra layers we get to Ozai manipulating his children!

Also no one is talking about Admiral Zhao, who I had SO much fun with. I feel like they slightly fleshed out his character in a really dramatic way, really developing the hubris and frankly insane grasping ambition of someone who would kill the moon. I completely enjoyed this wilder, less controlled version of him, who comes up through the season from basically nothing and no one!

I am OBSESSED with King BUMI and his anger and disillusionment with the world! Like this was SO real. Living a hundred years of futile war would do that!!!! It is one of my favorite changes to the whole series. This new layer of emotion and character depth is what I'm here for!

Sokka was SO funny. He literally had me laughing out loud so often. That actor GETs Sokka, and GETS the way his humor is delivered. And is also able to tap into the more vulnerable side of him. People said he was "obsessed" with leadership. WHAT? That is a young person trying desperately to do his best and to try and find his place in the world, to figure what he has to offer. I loved his pride at hearing the Mechanist say that he would make a good engineer, and the sweetness of the moment that Yue's father says that he can be a hero without being a warrior. Sokka does so much growth in this series, in understanding himself and life.

And his chemistry with Suki was adorable!! I even like him and Yue (who was a totally unexpected sweetheart, despite her terrible wig)!! Like he has that same ability that Sokka has in the original to Connect with people.

Aang was great! He WAS fun loving and sweet and funny. I don't know what you guys wanted. Cartoons are always bigger and more exaggerated than live action. People's eyes swell up an, birds fly around their heads, and there are funny sound effects. That larger than life quality is the strength of animation! You have to look for different strength in live action. Like the SUBTLETIES of the acting choices. This little actor brought so much kindness, innocence, and strength to Aang.

And I FELT his frustration at being asked to do this at 12, his fresh hope anytime it looked like someone more experienced would be able to help him and no one did, and that's why he didn't learn waterbending this season, because he kept waiting for an freaking ADULT to show him the way, to help him carry this immense burden, but every adult he meets asks him for help instead, asks him to carry it himself, and then the finale hits and he realizes that there won't be any adults helping, he does have figure this out himself, and he makes the hard choice, takes on responsibility more than his years and offers himself to the ocean spirit, and he might have been lost entirely if not for Katara!

And that counter running theme to the show pays off: that he doesn't have to do it alone. He may not have more experienced guidance, because the adults have let him down again and again, but his friends will be with him, and they will figure it out together!

This is there throughout the series! Katara tells him this about learning waterbending, when he says he still wants to wait. Bumi tells him this in the palace at Omashu, and Aang sees the faith he has in his friends repaid!

I like these changes! And the show still found time for silly fun adventures and character building moments.

The show was never going to be the animated original. That is already a Masterpiece, and it frankly did NOT need to be adapted at all. I did not WANT a live action adaptation. I was adamantly convinced I would hate it. But the changes that they netflix show gave are what I Iike most about it. If I want to see Zuko say "you rise with the moon, I rise with the sun," I will go watch the animated original, because that version is perfect. And now, if i want to see Zuko say "Lu ten would have been proud to have you as a father," and see iroh pull him into a tight hug, I can watch this live action version, which is very good too. I'm going to disagree with most of the people on here and say that the Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender, DOES capture the heart of what we liked about the original show. It's spirit, fun, excitement, and characters. And the changes made are the reason we should be watching.