#how many sons does messi have

[a2zsportsnews]

Meet the Messi family, who celebrated the FIFA World Cup win with Argentina in Qatar

Meet the Messi family, who celebrated the FIFA World Cup win with Argentina in Qatar

Messi has his three sons – Thiago, Mateo and Ciro cheering him from the stands during Argentina’s final against France at the Lusail Stadium accompanied by their mother, Antonella Rocuzzo.

[yovrnewromantic]

WORTH IT

ex!husband eddie munson x reader

based on the hc! by me that eddie kidnaps your kids, charging kisses for ransom wc: 1.2K

“You know you can’t keep doing this.”

Eddie can hardly hold back a pout. He knows you’ll criticize him if he lets it slip, reminding him that ‘he’s a grown man for goodness’ sake’ even though his puppy eyes never fail to succeed against you. Except once. Only once, when you filed for divorce circa 12 years ago.

Filed into the back of the van, your children are pressing their faces up against the glass windows. Their eyes are wide, noses are upturned, fogging up the glass with each breath— looking like the myth of pig-men came to life and are giddy to draw smiley faces and ‘hi mom’s into the steamed up glass. Unlike you, they enjoy when their dad kidnaps them, waving their teachers off with forged letters so they can hobble into his car and fiddle with the stereo as he stops at the florist, and biting their lips to stop their excitement when they see your old camaro pull up.

Forget-Me-Nots lay half-forgotten at Eddie’s side as he ruffles his already messy curls, mesmerized as you step out the car, mom jeans and rock shirt hanging loose. You look as beautiful as the day he met you. Some days, he feels like it is the first time he met you, his heart paralyzed by a certain type of warmth at the sight of your face. It’s like everything around you disappears and he recognizes his purpose. You. You make him feel like a teenager in love.

“Eventually I’m just gonna call the cops on your ass.”

Angry is not how you would describe yourself in the moment. The first time it happened, hell, you were pissed. Smoke practically blew out your ears when he first called, interrupting himself with giggles while he announced “The prince and princess of, phh, Munsonville have been exiled along with the King. Haha, oh um— If you wish to see them ever again, you must pay the price!” After the second, third, fourth, and tenth time, it’s only become a nuance.

“Hi, Mom!” your daughter calls out, voice muffled. Her hands are sprawled against the window, the hair that was once well-kept into two braids is now fuzzy and tangled. Her brown doe eyes peering at you, standing on her tippy toes to see. Looking like the splitting image of her father. Behind her, your son is playing with Eddie’s electric-blue guitar, strumming the string so harshly that you cringe, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s still staring at you.

Dumbly, Eddie just sticks the bouquet in your face, his fist inches from your face. “M’lady.” Through the thin stems of your favorite flower, you can see his lopsided smile.

Rather delicately, you take the flowers from his grasp, looking at them for a second too long to keep up your uneffected act. These must’ve been on sale, you assure yourself. He doesn’t remember the flowers you walked up the isle with, he couldn’t have. When you can finally drag your eyes away, your brows are furrowed. Something fluttering in your stomach as Eddie tilts his head, usual shit-eating grin strangely sweet. Small indigo petals flutter to the ground as they’re knocked off their branches from impact of hitting Eddie square in chest.

“Ow!” He lifts his arms up in defense. The purple-blue veins that flex on his bicep matching the shade of the dwindling flowers. “Y/N!”

Finally, easing your attack, your chest rises and falls as you point a finger at his chest. “Give my kids, Munson!”

“Mrs. Munson!” Again, you raise the flowers to wack him over the head, but Eddie’s hand grips your wrist, holding it in place and smiling innocently at you. “You know the drill by now.”

Groaning, you hide your face in what’s left of your flowers, a red hue rising on your cheeks. It’s embarrassing— giving in this easy to your ex husband’s demands, but there’s a special spot in your heart for Eddie that just. won’t. go. away. No matter how many dates you went on, no one could replace him.

Eddie’s hands are gentle as they pry your hands, and flowers, away from your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. Harshly sighing through your nose, and trying to convincingly eye roll, you choke out, “What do I owe this time?”

“Well, seeing as it took you ten extra minutes to get here from the estimated time…”

You shake your head. “I was busy explaining why the teachers didn’t need to issue an amber alert, dipshi—.”

“Ten kisses.” He’s too happy with himself, rocking back and forth on his heels as he watched the disbelief transform your pretty face.

“Ten?”

He raises his brows, playfully puckering. “Lay ‘em on me, honey.”

It’s never not awkward, begrudgingly (not really) approaching your ex husband with slow, torturous movements. Fingers finding his tattooed skin— which you used to color before you became adults and life went to shit, tracing up the expense of his arms until your hands connect around the back of his neck. He’s nibbling his lip as you inch forward, impatient. When your lips are close enough to touch, your breaths sync and your eyes meet. Heart racing, your eyes flutter shut. Lightly, the plush of your lips meet his— always surprising— soft lips. One.

Again. Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Eddie can’t help himself. His hands fly to your waist, squeezing the flesh he can reach and pulling your closer, shoving his tongue in your mouth when your hands tug on his hair. He tastes just as you remember, like tobacco and cheerios. As his tongue explores your mouth, you moan into his. Betrayed by your own body, dammit. His lips twitch against yours. When his teeth start to clash against yours, that’s when you pull away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. Nine.

Your eyes are hazy, a dumbstruck, lightheaded feeling coming over your body as you lean forward again. Foreheads connecting. Your noses nudging. Panting into each other’s mouth. Far too sensual for a divorced couple. Eddie finishes the last kiss for you, pecking your lips. Your breath hitches when he drags his teeth against the bottom. Ten.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he chuckles, panting. His large palm finds the bottom of your ass.

“Go to hell,” you whisper against his lips. “Kids!”

“Already in the car, Mom!” Tucked in the back of the car, seat belts buckled, your children look unimpressed. Your cheeks go bright red as you adjust yourself, trying hard not to stomp to the car as you avoid contact with Eddie, who walks slowly, cockily, behind you.

“I’ll call you later, sweetheart!”

You shove your hand out your unrolled window, middle finger up. Eddie’s laugh makes your chest tighten, but you won’t let it show, flipping on your sunglasses and pulling the fuck away from him. Eddie smiles as his kids wave through the window, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a knowing look on his face.

He’ll win you back eventually.

—

p.s. 💋

“Mommy, are you and daddy getting back together?”

With your grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning your white, you meet your five year old son’s clueless eyes in the review mirror— the product of the last time you got back together with his father. “Not a chance.”

not edited or read over 😔

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 17

Somewhere in the back of Bruce’s mind, there a voice that was grateful that no one Bruce had slept with had experimented on their own child. With Talia and himself there were already lines that had been crossed, but what Danny had been through was another level of horrible. Which is why that tiny voice didn’t mater.

This wasn’t about Bruce, this was about Danny. Danny who looked ready to bolt again. Bruce reached out and placed his hand on Danny’s still cold cheek.

“Danny, being my clone doesn’t make being my son any less true.”

“That’s not—” Danny’s eyes welled with tears again and he leaned into the touch even as his foot scooted backwards. “That’s not how it works.”

“It does for us. Our family is messy. It’s complicated and confusing and… wonderful,” Bruce said. He spoke slowly both so that his words were clear, but also so that he could find the right words. “It’s a butler and orphans, assassins and demi-gods, sons and daughters and sometimes people who are neither. You being a clone is just one more thing in that mix. You’re still my son, if you’d like to be.”

“You can’t want me, I’m dead,” Danny insisted.

Jason set a pot down, loud enough that Danny’s eyes flickered to him.

“Kid, Danny, that doesn’t mater,” Jason said in a carefully controlled tone. “It’s the same as I’ve said before, they all know I died.”

Danny’s eyes widened, causing the tears to sleep free. He blinked rapidly.

“…Oh.”

-

They’re sat around the living room, each with their own mug of hot chocolate, even Bruce Wayne— even… well, Danny supposed it would be Tim Drake-Wayne, once he had shown up. He had flown through the door as he spoke through gulped breaths of air. He didn’t have a domino on either. They all sipped slowly at their drinks.

They were waiting for him to talk.

Talking seemed an insurmountable challenge.

Danny took another sip of the hot chocolate and licked the sugar sprinkle bat from his lips. He didn’t look at them as he spoke.

“Dick Grayson, Jason Wayne, Tim Drake-Wyane. Cassandra Wayne… Duke Thomas, and Damian Wayne. I don’t know Spoiler or Oracle. I only… I looked up Bruce Wayne on a library computer after I ran. That’s why I know.”

“Close friends of the family,” Mr. Wayne said.

“And ex-girlfriends,” Night— Dick spoke up.

“Right. Red— Tim said him and Spoiler had dated.” Danny mumbled. He glanced over at Hood from under his bangs. Hood… Jason? Hood. Too many changes. Hood hadn’t said anything since he had revealed everything.

He must have noticed Danny looking though, because he sent a melancholy smile Danny’s way. “I get it. We kept a really huge piece of information from you, but we didn’t lie. When we said you had us no matter what Bruce Wayne did, we meant it.”

“But he’s your dad.”

“And that means we're all very good at not listening to him,” Tim said proudly.

Mr. Wayne just gave an amused snort at that.

“Dandelion,” Hood said, ignoring his family, “the first time that you looked up at Red and I we both clocked who you were instantly.”

“Not the clone part,” Red added.

This time it was Danny who gave a little snort.

(Fuck, they even snorted the same.)

Hood just flicked Red off. Tim. “Sure, not the clone part.”

“Because someone wouldn’t let me take DNA,” Tim interrupted again.

“It’s corrupted anyways,” Danny said and suddenly all eyes were on him again. He ducked his head down into a shrug. “From my death. This form I guess it would match enough? But my ghost form wouldn’t be any help.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Tim said softly. “But also Hood was right, you didn’t deserve us doing that to you right then, even if I just wanted to help. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t know that you came from Bruce. You just came from him in a different way than we thought.”

“You were family right away, kid,” Hood said. “If didn’t matter your name or pronouns or history or if you’ve died or even that you’re a clone. As soon as we got a good look at you, you were family.”

Danny could feel the tears coming again and he wiped at his eyes in frustration. He wanted to just stop crying today.

“You could have been wrong,” Danny said. They didn’t get it, why didn’t they get it?

“Could have. But you were still a hurt kid that needed help,” Hood said.

“You don’t need blood to be family,” Dick said. “Me and Jason and Tim and Cass and Duke… Alfred, none of have blood with each other or Bruce and Damian. If you had turned out to not be related to Bruce at all? Well, you were already family.”

The tears came now and Danny couldn’t stop them. The hot chocolate was taken carefully from his hands by Jason while Dick pulled him into a hug.

“I don’t— I don’t get it,” Danny said through the sobs. “Why can you all— why can you all love me after a month when they— when my— when the people that were supposed to be my parents never did?”

“Danny—”

“They killed me!” Danny roared. He was shaking now and Dick help him tighter. “They made me just to kill me and cut me into pieces! I was their son! I was…. I was their son. Why couldn’t they love me?”

Between one blink and the next Mr. Wayne was up from his chair and in front of Danny. His large hand was so warm on Danny’s cheek. Danny sobbed harder.

“I don’t know, sweetheart, I don’t know because you are so loveable. It’s something wrong with them, not with you. I already know you’re wonderful and I can’t wait to get to know you more.”

Danny didn’t get it.

Danny didn’t believe it yet.

But god did Danny want it.

Danny flung himself forwards, landing in the arms that were waiting to catch him, and let himself cry.

-

“Nose bleed stopped and he’s resting now. Jay is staying in there with him in case he wakes,” Dick said as he closed the door to Danny’s bedroom softly behind him. A sad, wet blue lump was in his other hand. “We’ll try to get his bear dried out, it was in the bag he took.”

“See if the dryer has an air dry setting,” Bruce said. When both sons in the room looked at him in surprise he just gave a little shrug. “Dickie used to play with Zitka outside all the time. I learned to help make sure she was always ready for bed.”

Dickie gave a little laugh. It was heavily tinged with stress, but it was a laugh. Bruce would take what he could get right then. Jay still had a job, so he’d be alright for now. Dick would need to stay busy and close to people, but both those would do most of the work for the moment. It was Tim that Bruce had to worry about the moment; he was being very silent.

“Tim, chum, are you done with your drink?”

Tim blinked up from staring down at said drink. “What?”

Bruce crouched down in front of Tim (trying not to think of how he crouched down in front of a sobbing Danny just a bit ago) and took the mug. “What are you turning over in that head of yours, chum?”

Tim fiddled with his nails now that the mug was out of his hands. Bruce wouldn’t stop it unless Tim managed to make himself bleed. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s going to take him a long time to believe us— this,” Tim said, the words almost a rush.

Bruce nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

“And he could run again,” Tim continued, still speaking quickly. “It could all be going well and then suddenly he could be thinking of running again because he’s doubting things.”

“Okay Tim,” Bruce said with careful words. His mind was running through all the times when Tim had pulled away from the family, “what do you think we can do to help that?”

Tim shrugged and looked away. “I guess— I mean, saying things to him is good but it won’t get as far as actions. And those actions need to include making him feeling useful.”

“But—” Dick started, the dryer now rumbling away in the linen closet.

“I’m not saying make him do work,” Tim interrupted. “But until he can consistently believe that we want him in the family, him feeling useful will help give him a reason to stay. As long as he’s useful, he won’t think that there’s no reason for him to stay when he thinks no one wants him around.”

Gently, Bruce reached out and took Tim’s hand away from where his cuticle had started to split and bleed. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the spot gently. “We’ll make sure to offer him ways to help out. We’ll talk as a family about where the lines will be and what sort of work is alright, especially as Danny is still healing.”

Tim took a careful breath and nodded. “Good.”

“And Tim?” Bruce waited until Tim was looking at him to continue. “I love you and I’m very glad that you are part of this family.”

-

Bruce sent Dick back to the manor after Cass arrived. They talked about what was best and agreed together that for Danny, Bruce still needed to be here in the morning. Bruce knew Dick hated to leave, but he was the other one who could handle Damian and whatever moods this may have invoked. And they were both worried about pulling Jason away from Danny right then.

Once Dick had wrangled Damian, they all had a meeting. Jason joined in with headphones Tim delivered and stayed mostly silent. Alfred lingered behind Dick’s shoulder.

Bruce went over the day, doing his best to treat it like a debrief just so that he could get through it without his heart breaking the rest of the way.

Danny had run of his own volition, afraid that those who had hurt him would find them. He was most afraid of them hurting Jason and Damian. (Dick pulled Damian close). He wasn’t Bruce’s son, biologically speaking, but his clone. They would try, with permission, to take some blood and analyze it soon. There were worries about the state of Danny’s DNA that Bruce wanted them to look into, for Danny’s safety.

There was worry any tests might set Danny off.

Danny knew about their identities, though they did not share Stephanie and Barbara’s name— both girls gave their go ahead. He seemed confused, but alright. They had to be ready for a possible out burst over it later after everything that had sunk in.

They would be sure to give Danny things to do that made him a quick part of the family, Bruce wanted everyone to think what those would be. There was to be nothing that was patrolling or anything dangerous. They would all agree on the list.

When Bruce ran out of things to say, Alfred stepped forward, there as always to help with the next step. “Is there anything specific I should prepare for his room?”

“Blue,” Cass suggested.

“Stars,” Tim said from where he was tucked into Cass’ side. “He likes space. Maybe one of those projectors that turns the ceiling into the night sky?”

“Soft blankets,” Jason spoke, a quiet addition.

“An air diffuser, natural scents like flowers and earth,” Dick chimed in.

“A… a pet,” Damian said, words uncharacteristically hesitant, though he straightened up defiantly at the look of confusion on everyone’s face. “If he is a flight risk, then a pet will be something he stays for. It will also be a responsibility for him that is little effort and not dangerous. Also, when he needs company but the family is… overwhelming, his pet will be there for him. There are many cats and some suitable dogsat the shelter right now, I will take him.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched up in a little smile. “That’s a very good idea, thank you. I’m sure Danny would like your help, after we introduce you two properly.”

Damian nodded, though that slight uncertainty was still there in the curve of his shoulders.

“Dami?” Dick prompted.

“When will I be able to meet him? Properly.”

“How about in a few days, before we move him to the manor, I’ll bring you over with me, okay ayouni? We can bring lunch with us and have a meal together,” Bruce offered.

Damian nodded sharply, a slight smile on his lips. “Acceptable.”

“Good. We will try to have everyone over before we move Danny, which will be mostly on his timetable. For now, everyone get some rest.”

There was a chime of voices agreeing to that and signing off. Bruce made sure he was the last to leave the call.

---

AN: It's... mmm... not great day, so you all are getting this now instead of tomorrow when ao3 updates. Stay delightful, darlings <3

[wonderjanga]

Custody Battle

You know those AUs when Black Adam finds out about Billy being a kid, so he wants to adopt him? Let’s explore a different aspect of that. People think Marvel and Adam are the dads of Mary Marvel, and a kid named Billy, who might potentially be Junior. People also think they’ve been going through a messy divorce.

Marvel: “How many times do I have to tell you? I- Uh Billy, won’t be going to Kahndaq with you!”

Black Adam: “If I throw in the girl, will you let me then?”

Marvel: “Who? Mary?”

Black Adam: “Yes, her. If I’m correct, she’s also a child.”

Marvel: “Wha? Still no! Throwing her in made the deal worse!”

People are thinking Marvel isn’t letting Adam see their kids. People are also wondering how the two had kids, how long they’ve been married, and why it took them so long to divorce. I mean, the two had been throwing each other into buildings long before Adam wanted custody of the kids.

Black Adam: “Being the Wizard’s Champion is too much for you, Batson.”

Marvel: “It is not.” *sassy man eye roll*

As a result of this conversation, the public now thinks two things, one, that Marvel is neglecting his kids due to his work as a hero, or as the Wizard’s Champion. Whatever that means. The thing is though, it isn’t completely surprising because this is gonna be connected this to the “Cap not Caring” post. (In that post, Mary and Billy threaten to kill each other, while Billy fights Freddy)

Marvel: “I don’t want that man around Mary.”

Reporter: “And Billy.”

Marvel: *confused* “What?”

Reporter: “And Billy. Mary and Billy.”

Marvel: “Oh, yeah, and Billy.”

Yeah, people did not like that, because how do you just forget your son exists? To be fair though, Billy’s son is himself. Can you blame him? Too bad that isn’t common knowledge. They’re also flaming him for his “preference” for Mary.

The second thing people think is that Marvel’s name is Batson? People do some digging and find out about C.C.. Billy is now officially his own dad. Now, at the prospect of a child getting potentially kidnapped, or at least having to undergo forced family bonding, some other heroes grew a little concerned.

Marvel: “Guys he’s not getting Billy. I don’t know why he thinks he’s getting Billy. He’s not. I don’t know why he would think he has a choice when the only times he’s been in Billy’s life were to literally ruin it.”

Superman: *extremely concerned* “What..?”

Marvel: “I know right?”

Batman: “Why does Adam now suddenly want Billy?”

Marvel: “Cause he found something out he shouldn’t have.”

Batman: “What did he find out?”

Superman: “Why was a grown man beefing with a child in the first place?!”

Marvel swiftly dodged all the questions by walking away as Clark called after him.

Bonus:

The two get taken to reality court tv.

Marvel: *when it’s his turn to speak* “Jury and judge, he killed his nephew.” *points to Adam*

Jury and Audience: *gasps*

Marvel: “Who’s to say he wouldn’t kill Billy?”

Black Adam: “I’m a changed man now.”

Judge: *glares at Adam for interrupting*

Marvel: “Last week, you slammed me so hard into the ground I ended up in the sewers.”

Black Adam: “That was before, this is now.”

Judge: *bangs gavel* “Mr. Adam! Mr. Marvel is speaking. Refrain from interrupting.”

Black Adam: “Who’re you to tell me that?”

Judge: “The damn judge.”

Audience and Jury: *collective oohs and aahs*

[targetnewz]

How Many Children Does Lionel Messi have?

How Many Children Does Lionel Messi have?

Lionel Messi is looking for World Cup glory and will be supported by his wife Antonella Roccuzzo and their children. After an incredible five trips to the biggest tournament on the planet, the Argentina star has announced that this will be his last World Cup. 3 Antonella and Lionel Messi at the Ballon d’Or award When did Messi marry Antonella Roccuzzo? Messi has been in a relationship with…

[maximumqueer]

Yamato, Transness, and "Passing"

Now that we're nearly a full arc removed from Wano and Yamato's introduction, I want to talk about the reaction that a subset of the one piece fandom had to his reveal as a trans man/transmasc person, the transphobia behind that reaction, and how the concept of passing plays into that reaction. I'm not going to be arguing that Yamato is a trans man, as I think it is very obvious that he is given how he is referred to in the canon text. This is instead going to be more of a fandom dissection of why (in my personal opinion) so many people refuse to acknowledge Yamato as a man.

When we are first introduced to Yamato, he is dressed in a way that gives him the appearance of a flat chest, and is wearing a mask to hide his face. He looks like a man in a cis-heteronormative way

When Yamato was depicted like this, he was (from what I can tell) mostly referred to with he/him pronouns by the fanbase. This is based on comments underneath his chapter debut and episode debut. There are comments under his episode debut that do use she/her pronouns and refer to him as a woman, but because these episodes have been out for a while, it would make sense that these kinds of comments would be left on his debut after his second design was revealed.

Then, when he removes his mask and outer layer of his outfit, he is depicted like this

After this reveal, more people began to refer to Yamato with she/her pronouns, and refer to him as Kaido's daughter, despite him referring to himself as Kaido's son, as well as the people around him using he/him pronouns exclusively for him. What changed? Well, Yamato went from having a design that looked traditionally masculine to having a more traditionally feminine one. As such people who associate only women with having breasts and more "feminine" features began to insist that Yamato was a tomboy, or a delusional woman, anything but accept that fact that he is a man.

There is a phenomena with trans "acceptance", where a character is accepted as trans only if they look like their gender according to the cis-heteronormative ideal, and questioned and denied if they don't. Kiku, a trans woman who "passes" as a woman did not receive nearly the same level of speculation and denial of her trans identity. (This is not to say that Kiku received no hate or transphobic comments, but that because she looks like a woman to the average cis-het viewer, she was treated as a "real" trans person, whereas Yamato was not).

Yamato has been repeatedly referred to as mentally ill for being a "non-passing" trans man. He has been called bad representation (despite large numbers trans men/transmasc people, myself included, saying that his IS good representation). People have made claims with no canon backing in an attempt to hand wave away his transness because he "looks like a woman", a popular one being that Kaido some how forced Yamato into being a man, despite his backstory telling us the exact opposite.

And the reasoning for all of this speculation is that trans people are held to such high standards in terms of appearance and presentation, even in fictional media. A trans man must have a flat chest, deep voice, facial hair etc. or he isn't actually trans. A trans woman must have breasts, a high voice, a lack of facial hair, etc. or she isn't actually trans. Non-binary people are dismissed entirely. This denies the many different and diverse ways that a person can be trans. Sure, some trans people wish to medically transition, get the "surgery" and go through life as if they were cis. But not all trans people want that. Gender is messy and complicated, its not nearly as black and white a we have been taught to believe. There are many trans people (both binary and non-binary) who will never medically transition. That does not make them less trans, it does not make them delusional. Yet because we have this black and white thinking ingrained in us from childhood, any deviation from the strict boxes of "man" and "woman" are immediately questioned, and that includes gender non-conforming people - both trans and cis.

This type of transphobia is not talked about enough, as the people doing it will so often hide behind the idea that they are protecting "real" trans people, and just want to make sure that they are respected and taken seriously. But, respect for a persons gender identity CANNOT be conditional. It does not matter if they "don't pass". It doesn't matter if they are a good person, a bad person. The second you start dictating who gets to have their gender respected is the second you stop being an ally. And that includes fictional characters like Yamato.

[heavenlymorals]

Details I've noticed about Arthur Morgan Part 2 cuz you guys seem to be devouring the first one 👍🏼 :

- Him and Dutch share the same sense of humor- dry, sarcastic, and usually at another's expense.

- However, both Arthur and Dutch get really annoyed whenever they direct that same humor to eachother.

-When Dutch and Arthur quick draw, they both turn their bodies to make them a smaller target. They are the only ones in the gang that do this in idle animation.

- Arthur's journal is filled with many half done, not fully rendered drawings. Some pages have one small drawing on them and are then skipped over. Other drawings are just shapes and strokes that represent the schema of an animal or person. It's very realistic to an actual sketchbook and not the Pinterest dream sketchbook.

- Arthur, prior to Hosea's death and Micah overturning his position as Dutch's right hand man, is always there whenever a big decision is being there and is asked for feedback too. Arthur isn't just a member of the VDL gang, he's a leader of it too and people seem to forget that.

- Arthur is very emotionally tough and when I mean very, I mean VERY. He doesn't cry when Sean dies, someone he considered like a little brother. He doesn't cry when Lenny dies, someone he probably saw as a son. He doesn't cry when Hosea dies, someone he saw as a father figure. Of course, they were all in high stress situations that could've stopped an emotional reaction, but even later when he can process things, he doesn't cry.

- There is one time in the game where we see Arthur tear up from emotional pain and that is when he speaks to the nun about his life and what he could've had. Still though, he doesn't cry. It says a lot about him.

- In the final journal entry, though, we see a splotch next to the entry on the empty left page that looks like a tear drop. Take that as you will.

- Arthur's hand writing becomes much more spaced out, messy, and words will be scribbled out more often the sicker he gets. Shakey hands.

- He's very witty and quick with insults, like fascinatingly quick.

- He is pretty intelligent but does allow others to dumb him down like Hosea- as the gang's strongman, this could be so the people they work with would put more emphasis on Arthur's strength so he can be more intimidating.

- The picture that Jack gives Arthur has the male figure wearing a black gambler hat like Arthur and John didn't wear a hat in chapter two. Jack probably saw Arthur as his father figure during that point, not John.

- Does want Jack to learn responsibility ("About time you started to earn your keep" "You got to stick at things, Jack") , but he's very kind, patient, and reasonable considering how young the kid was.

- He doesn't let women carry their luggage if he can do it for them (Mary, the nun)

- He's casually mean or teasing to the younger men and generally polite to the women but he will go off on them in the same way if they anger him enough.

- I wish he was a real person

- I'd like to drink a beer with him

- For I love him ❤️

[missglaskin]

Yan!Great Bastards/Targs house (Platonic) HCS

Characters-Aegon IV, Naerys, Aemon (mention), Daeron II, Daenerys, Daemon Blackfyre, Shiera, Aegor, Brynden

Note; reader is adopted and female, mostly platonic but some relationships can be interpreted. The timeline is inaccurate/messy

Ever since Aegon brought you to court, many whispers assumed you must have been a bastard of his. Yet there was a lack of any sign that the blood of old Valyria coursed through your veins. It also didn't help that there were whispers claiming you already had a family of your own, adding to the uncertainty surrounding their fate. Still, even with doubt, the lord and ladies accept Aegon's claims.

Aegon has kept you close ever since you arrived at court. He has proven to be a man of envy, despising the thought of anyone else stealing your time and attention from him. Despite his best efforts to keep you to himself, Naerys and Aemon were still able to become quite involved in your life.

You quickly won the favor of Naerys, as she would spend alone time with you at any given chance. It's her who also gave you and Daeron and Daenerys the opportunity to finally meet. With Naerys, you can come to expect that she'll hand you clothes that she herself embroidered and sewed.

With you around, Aegon treats Naerys with a little more decency. Aegon is a man who seeks praise and validation, so noticing your frown and distant demeanor in the way he treats Naerys will hurt him just a little. Unbeknownst to you, it only deepens Daeron and Aemon's attachment to seeing you care for Naerys.

Aemon is the last person Aegon ever wants to see you bond with. There is considerable conflict between the brothers, whether it's believed to be over Naerys or the allegations regarding Daeron's legitimacy. The more Aemon spends his time with you, the more bitterly Aegon feels toward his brother.

Daeron, along with Aemon and Naerys, is possibly the most "normal" out of the family. He treats you with such tenderness and care—it's impossible not to warm up to him. Given that his father brought you to court and paraded you around, you initially assume that Daeron would harbor some resentment. But all Daeron's eyes convey is warmth.

Daeron and you are told to spend most of the day together whenever you could, either playing cyvasse, going for a walk in the gardens, or having dinner together. Aegon didn't give much thought if you chose to carry out your princess responsibilities, but Daeron and Naerys did. They had you be taught how to dance, courtesy, and embroidery while he wasn’t around. 

Aemon would always try to accompany you, either walking you to your chambers or through the gardens. He guards you with the same degree of vigilance that he does with Daeron and Naerys, stepping in to help if he notices you in distress. He also permits you to go horseback riding if you choose, as Aegon never lets you.

These are rare moments in between, as Aegon immediately steals you away to his usual spot by his side. As has been said, Aegon was a demanding man. He anticipates your unceasing praise, telling you of something "nice" he has done for Naerys or giving you a gift just to see you smile. It was best for you to pretend he's the favorite of the family.

When Daeron wed Myriah Martell, both of you grew quickly fond of each other. As expected, Aegon did not like the little friendship you developed. When the two soon introduced Baelor (Breakpear) to the court, they made you among the first to hold him. Daeron couldn’t help but smile as he watched you interact with his baby son. Little Baelor was often used as an excuse for Daeron and Myriah to take you away.

While you were very attached to Daeron, he was older (and very busy), so you spent your free time with (Aegon ofc), the ladies of the court and most of all with Daemon and Daenerys. Rumors occasionally circulated that you were spotted in the gardens, showing young Daenerys the lovely view of the flowers with Daemon watching you both from afar.

The tranquil realm Viserys ruled over quickly came to an end when he passed away. Aegon, the fourth of his name, soon sat the throne. The moment the crown was put the crown on his head, the dynamics of the family were entirely shifted. Aegon’s first act was to ensure you were legitimized before the whole court. Giving you the name Targaryen was probably the only time the family came together. 

If possible, Aegon’s treatment of his son and brother worsened. Any disputes he had with Aemon led to the king forbidding his brother from ever speaking to you. It wasn’t beneath him to threaten Daeron with the same thing as well.

As king, Aegon publicly had numerous mistresses. Who all knew to get on your good side as Aegon was persuaded by your opinion. It was told how much he liked a mistress by how much he allowed her to interact with you.  Falena Stokeworth, Jeyne Lothson, Bethany Bracken, and Sereni of Lys were among the familiar faces. You even bonded with their bastards, which one is compelled to believe is a jab at his son.

The court also knew to get on your side; after all, it wasn’t filled with noble or wise men, but those who flatter and amuse. It’s said that if one made you laugh, it was enough reason for Aegon to gift them land.

Aegon always showered you with gifts, but as king, he made sure you were the best dressed at court. From silks taken from Qarth to being showered with all sorts of jewelry—diamonds, gold, rubies, and pearls. And if you asked for it, he would gladly name hills, mountains, and even castles after you.

Aegon assumed that with all he had done for you, you would always be on his side. So one can imagine his fury when rumors of Naerys’s adultery and Daeron’s legitimacy were whispered among the court, and you took his wife and son’s side. Even more when you seemed to admire his brother for defending the queen’s honor.

It was a tragedy when Aemon’s life was taken when he stepped in between the king and his assassin. His death sent Naerys into grief. And while you were grieving for Aemon, you had to also grieve for Naerys as she soon followed him to her grave. Aegon pretended to comfort you, but secretly, in all his selfishness, he was glad to have some competition taken out. 

Daenerys already saw you as her sister, but with her mother’s death, it only made her cling to you far more and made the two of you closer than ever. You did always have a way of cheering her up. In the evenings, either one of you would sneak into each other’s bedchambers just to spend time conversing. 

Daenerys loved when you would do her hair, sending away any of her handmaidens to do it instead. Even when you think you did a poor job, Dany was quick to compliment you. She was affectionate in general, embracing you either when she greeted you or when she said her goodbyes.

With Naerys and Aemon dead, Aegon continued spreading the rumors of his son’s illegitimacy, and tried getting you on his side more than once. But it only made him despise his son more seeing your intense loyalty towards him. Made worse with the queen dead, the mistresses were far more bold, pushing their children to get closer to you as a way to gain more favor in court. 

Aegor was the first to catch your attention. Even as a child, his protectiveness and possessive were evident to the whole court. If it wasn’t your father pushing away the other children, it was Aegor. In his eyes, Aegor saw you as a sweet thing to be protected, and he was willing to do anything you asked of him.

He was easily jealous and bitter of anyone taking your attention away from him. Whether it’s your lady friends, to which Aegor stands in the corner glaring at them, or Daenerys, who’s having some tea time with you. Worst of all, his anger was all directed towards Daeron to which Aegor had to hold himself from lunging at the prince whenever Daeron took you away from Aegor.

Though there’s no bigger rival to Aegon until Brynden comes into the picture. Between the half-brothers, there’s no familiarity. Not only do their houses hold a long rivalry that passes generations but Aegor’s mother was passed over by Brynden’s.

Aegon allowed you not only to know Melissa Blackwood but also to become familiar with her three children: Myra, Gwenys, and Brynden. Aegor hated how Brynden seemed to easily catch your attention. You didn’t notice the way Brynden slowly inserted himself into your little friend group with his sisters. And when you add Shiera to the mix, Aegor only grew to loathe Brynden more.

As said, while Aegor is more aggressive and demanding, Brynden is much more subtle. He has a way of getting you to open up to him, and he is a great listener, remembering every little bit. Brynden also seems to have a knack for noticing the little details from your rings to your headpieces. 

But like Aegor, Brynden is also a jealous man. You have no idea how many he has sent away, whispering doubts into your ears about the "suspicious" acts of your lady friends. Even as a child, Brynden had a way of pulling the strings and somehow he knew all there was to know. 

Shiera takes any opportunity to steal you away, locking arms as she guides you away when the two half-brothers are at each other’s throats. She would spend many hours with you if she could, listening to your sweet voice. One of her favorite things to do is get you ready for feasts in your chambers; she is fond of ivory and lace and incorporates it into your style as well.

Though none of Aegon’s bastards are closer to you than Daemon Waters. You would usually catch him in the corner of your eye, and you didn’t mind his company with how nicely he treated you. Giving you advice when needed, complimenting your dress, or gently tucking anything in place.

He was your father’s (second) favorite, and it’s evident in how he allowed Daemon the privilege to become closer to you. History remembers all too well when he handed Daemon ‘Blackfyre,’ but what history doesn’t know is that it secretly made Daemon feel as if he’s more worthy of your attention.

As expected from an Heir, Daeron resided in Dragonstone for a few years. He promised to exchange ravens and he kept to his word. As much as Daeron missed you terribly and desired nothing more than to bring you along, he knew his father’s answer. 

The more Aegon sat on the throne, the more your seat was right to next to it; a little throne of your own, one made comfortable instead of his. It was the last years that made Aegon actually never leave your side, not even Daemon could interact all that much with you. 

When Aegon’s reign ended, he demanded you to be on his side as spent his last moments on his deathbed. And it made you a witness to his last decree: legitimizing all his great bastards; a last spite against Daeron.

Upon learning of his father’s death, you and Daeron reunited once more, a happy moment instantly overshadowed by the realization that Daeron must do his supposed duty, crowning himself with you as his witness. He spent his time repairing all the damage his father did. Daeron would go as far as to include you in the council, and like his father, would look forward to your advice, but unlike his father, he can choose to make his own decisions.

Daenerys being sent off to Dorne was upsetting for both of you. You both promised to exchange letters and gifts. Dany would send letters detailing her time in Dorne, how she grew fond of the place and the people, but that she missed home and, most of all, she missed you. Daeron made promises to have you visit her, but secretly the two of you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Daemon and the rest of the bastards being legitimized was an incident that made everyone hold their breath; they all knew the consequences of doing such a thing. But for now, it seemed as if not much had changed. Daemon took the name ‘Blackfyre’, and he and the rest were strangely treated well by Daeron and allowed at court.

With Aegon no longer around, they were all allowed to spend time that they could not have. A secret among everyone was that it was a relief Aegon’s passed. Daeron, of course, had more authority than anyone else, but he strangely did not hold his father’s intense possessiveness and jealousy, and the same went for Myriah, who treated you so well and convinced her husband to give you some freedom.

It meant you were permitted to be entertained in court as much as you wanted. Dancing with the other lords and ladies even if it led Daemon and Shiera taking all of your time.

You were also permitted the freedom to attend many dramatic performances and the jousting where many men competed for your hand. But something that Daeron and all the others agreed on: was that you were off limits.

While Daemon sat well in court, it was Aegor who whispered things to his ear. Aegon’s intense envy and bitterness never dissipated; if anything, he found himself resenting Daeron more and more over the years. He thought while the king presented smiles and courtesy when taking you away, he assumed the king was a fox behind a sheep’s clothing wanting you all to himself.

And we can assume the resentment never stopped towards Brynden. Not only did he take the woman he loved, Aegor is forced to share you with the man he hates more than anything. Brynden gives him passing looks that Aegor knows all too well what it means. But a sight that makes him clenches his fists is watching you read with Shiera and Brynden, sitting too closely between the two of them.

Family dinners, while on the surface seem nice,  all the servants and the guards could feel the tensions rising. You are obviously seated next to the king, or at times seated next to Myriah. They all exchange pleasantries, but one can notice the glare Aegor gives when Brynden speaks to you, how Shiera and Daemon tend to only seek you out in conversations. How the rest tense when you compliment or thank one of them. 

And while everything seems pleasant at the moment, it no longer does when Daemon Blackfyre announces himself as the rightful king with Aegor on his side. When Daeron has you locked in your chambers or has guards watching your every move for your safety, but most of all to ensure you are not taken under his nose.

Shiera and Brynden who take Daeron’s side reassure they all want the best for you. There is a war brewing between the family and everyone is well aware you are stuck in the middle.

[rizsu]

nonsensical questions — you must answer! tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen.

⤹ list ﹕ s. shinichiro + i. wakasa | f. toji + r. sukuna.

being a father means your child is either gonna humble you or throw questions only the divine can answer.

+ extra. for toji's part megumi's an older brother 😝

SHINICHIRO SANO — “well...!”

“daddy, if the sun went boom what would you do?”

curiousity is a child's best friend. when his son asks a question, the boy will not stop until he gets his answer.

curiousity, on the other hand, is not a father's best friend. shinichiro's more experienced than his five-year-old, he's had his fair share of ‘curiousity killed the cat’ moments.

as if shaping the mangoes into star-shaped pieces wasn't enough for him, he just had to spice it up with a triple question-mark (???) question and his cute actions.

the little one, or as shinichiro calls him, mini shini, was the one who introduced the question. he stretched out both arms and drew an imaginary circle in the air to reenact the sun going “boom!”

a sweat-bead trickles down shinichiro's neck. he swallows hard. if he dares to answer the question wrong, it'll only result in a challenging battle to make him eat the fruit. he ponders on the question, what would he do if the sun truly went boom?

die? no, that's too intense.

stop it? a power he wish he had.

tell the sun “don't do that!”? sounds like a perfect answer.

shinichiro places the star-shaped cutter down, lifting the boy onto the countertop. stabbing one of the many mango pieces with the child's fork, he imitates the sound of an airplane, swirling the fork in a bee-line before it lands in his son's mouth.

the action sends the younger one into a fit of giggles. he happily chews on the fruit, kicking his dangling feet back-and-forth.

“and as for your question,” shinichiro begins, “i'll tell the sun to not go boom-boom before it booms.”

he ends the sentence with a smile, gearing up the fork for another airplane run.

his son, however, doesn't return the excitement. instead, he tilts his head, slows the pace of his kicking, and questions his father, “but the sun is all the way up there. you're down here. how would that work?”

shinichiro smiles ear-to-ear, finding the genuine curiousity of his son amusing. he uses his free hand to ruffle the boy's hair, feeding him the fruit as he speaks, “because i'm your dad!”

WAKASA IMAUSHI — “realistically speaking–”

the backyard, wakasa, his toddler, a bucket of pink paint with a paintbrush, and a kid-sized vanity. it's finally daddy-daughter playtime and his little girl is energized and ready! after her well deserved nap, she's been more bouncy than ever. her steps have little jumps to it, her now messy pigtails still bounce with her, and her painted palms are evidence of the happiness.

as soon as the toddler woke up, she stared into nothingness to regain her senses. then, she immediately made it her mission to run to her dad.

“papa! papa!” was the only word heard throughout the hallways alongside her footsteps. it didn't take her any longer than a minute to find her father situated on the hammock outside.

she stopped in her tracks halfway there, raising a finger up to her mouth. it's an action she does whenever she's making a decision. wakasa looks peaceful; should she go to him or go back? of course, she goes to her dad!

when she arrived next to him, she stood on the tip of her toes to see inside the hammock. there he is, peaceful with his eyes closed. the slumber — or whatever he's doing — doesn't last for long. his newly found father instincts have been tickled and tingled. he sensed the presence of his daughter.

wakasa opened his eyes, greeting his daughter with a soft smile and lifting her onto him.

“slept well?” he asked, running his hand on top of her head in attempts to smoothen the stray hair strands.

“mhm, i did!” she nods.

“me too, princess,” he mumbles, yawning after the sentence.

the two sit in silence, enjoying the perfect weather.

toddlers aren't experts at sitting for too long. soon, she got bored and jumped off her dad's lap.

“papa, can i have a unicorn?” she pouts, patting her hands on his arm.

wakasa coughs. he accidentally choked on his saliva after hearing such a question. unicorns aren't real, and he's not going to rent a horse. it's not the same — his baby would be disappointed!

“an’ i want it to paint my table pink!” she disrupts his thoughts, adding another sentence to her previous one.

“i'm sorry princess. i can't get you a unicorn, but i can paint your table pink,” he breaks the news to her, immediately following up with a suggestion. although the unicorn won't be in the equation, the pink table will, and that's more than enough for her!

and that's the reason as to why they're surrounding her vanity with a bucket of pink paint. wakasa took his time to drag the vanity out, and his princess took her time to bring the paintbrush!

channeling his inner painter skills, he got to work as soon as she brought the brush. a little swish and swash of the brush and her vanity was eighty-percent finished. even though she lacked a brush, it didn't stop her from dipping her hands into the paint and using that as her brush. a bit of a mess, but nothing will ever get in between daddy-daughter time!

TOJI FUSHIGURO — “*lost the war and the battle*”

toji experienced more in emotions today than he's ever had in his entire life. whether it's the five stages of grief or exhaustion, he felt it all. his three-year-old daughter made sure to run her father's pockets and his mind dry. what was supposed to be a monthly home restocking run ended up being an expensive whatever-fits-in-the-cart-daddy-buys-it run. megumi got himself two lego sets, and the baby girl got herself a dollhouse.

don't be fooled; it's not just any regular dollhouse. it's a walk-in, spacious, pastel pink and white with purple accents dollhouse. toji knew the moment she stopped in her tracks with her mouth agape his card would end up maxed out.

he gulped, hoping that she doesn't turn around to him. during toji's younger days, if he didn't want to deal with something he'd pretend he doesn't see it. if he can't see it, the problem does not exist. but now, he's a father — he has duties!

as the younger sister by four years, megumi's bound to do as his sister says. the seven-year-old boy made sure to be his sister's knight the very minute she came into the world. he was in love, a little jealous, and absolutely adored her. if she wanted that dollhouse, he'd back her up!

“daddy—”

“not today, princess. not today.”

not today? such words are nonexistent in her world. something must be wrong with her father. she turns around, walking up to him with her arms stretched out. toji follows suit, bending over to lift her.

she squints at him, he pretends to not notice, megumi busies himself with his toy car while imitating the sounds of a sports car.

“i wan’ the dolly house!” she pouts, using one hand to repeatedly pat on his chest and the other pointing at the dollhouse in view.

“you can't have it today,” he explains, shooting her a small smile that has a double meaning.

again, she doesn't get it. once a child is confused, they begin using a word they won't stop using.

“why?”

“'cause i said so.”

“why?” she tilts her head.

“not today, sweetie,” he tilts his head.

“but why?” she raises an eyebrow.

toji begins to feel the stress creeping in, “because—”

“i can put my toys back if it's too much,” megumi intervenes, he's been watching them for a minute now. he, too, wants the dollhouse, but he won't say that! it's not in line with his knight image.

“no, meg'. leave it in there,” he rejects his son's offer. toji's been strong on letting megumi know he mustn't sacrifice his wants for others... and it'll be unfair if he had to put his toys back.

this almost set the three-year-old off — she wants that dollhouse! seeing that megumi's toys fit in the trolley, maybe she can break down the dollhouse and fit it in the trolley too.

“daddy, break the dolly house ‘nd put it in the trolley!” she increases the pace of the hand patting on his chest. she had a bright idea and she's going to stick to it.

toji goes silent. the idea isn't the smartest, but he felt his proud dad senses tingle. his second baby had a suggestion! an actual one! and she didn't use “why” this time!

giving in he walked towards to house, still against it but what can he do in the faces of his children? they're his weakness. he didn't win this time, but he'll win next time. this counts as the fifty-seventh lost.

SUKUNA RYOMEN — “apparently i do not have rights.”

“papa, let's play dress up.”

sukuna doesn't know if he's offended or proud. instead of a question, he was met with a statement. there weren't any greetings, any hugs, just nothing but a statement. she walked in with business! slowly, but surely, she's showing signs that she's taking after him and he's never been more proud.

however, such proudness doesn't mean he's going to twinkle and sprinkle. he's a man and will continue to look like it — not.

who told sukuna he had freedom of speech? what made him think his little carbon copy wasn't going to drag him? with her two hands securing their grip on his wrist, she walked backwards to her room. the only time sukuna accepts defeat is when he's face-to-face with her. he's a gun, but she's a bomb. it is evident that he's overpowered by her.

the moment he entered her room, he was met with instant sparkles and positivity. he knew he was about to be princess-fied and there's unfortunately nothing that can be done.

she sits him down on her stool. then, she grabs her tiara, standing on her tiptoes to place it on his hair. she gathers her toy makeup and her glitter-included perfume. sukuna's right eye twitches; he can feel the items laughing at him.

“it's makeup time!” she announces, opening the palette of six bright colours.

she dabs her finger in the purple eyeshadow. making sure there's enough pigment, she swipes it over on to his eyelids. one layer done, another to go. this time she goes in with blue just below his eyebrows. satisfied with the eyeshadow, she goes in with white in the middle to blend the colours. a perfect mix!

the next step is the blush. she whips out the blush, using three fingers to apply it this time. she repeats until she's satisfied with the amount. sukuna's cheeks are as rosy as a rose!

the last item is the lipgloss. it's also his most dreaded one. he despises the way the lipgloss feels on his lips — it's far too sticky for his liking! he'd rather use oil. in sad attempts to soften the stickyness, sukuna licks his lips.

she squeezes the tube until the gloss overflows. it's just the right amount to apply on and over his lips. her hands are a little shaky, but she's still a good makeup artist!

sukuna has now been princess-fied. due to his behaviour at her studio, she gives him a star sticker.

“papa, you're pretty now!” she compliments, clapping her hands at her creation.

sukuna took the compliment another way. was he not pretty before? did that mean she found him visually troubled? maybe she doesn't — kids are honest people, and she doesn't know how to lie yet.

[shellem15]

This has been commented on many times in this fandom, but I'm using it as a springboard for my own brainrot Raphael really is just like his daddy. There's the obvious stuff—the narcissism, the dramatics, the convoluted plots and just the general messy bitchery—but there's also the stuff under the surface. Both have massive inferiority complexes, both are extremely envious and power-hungry (Mephistopheles in particular for the envy part, but we'll touch on that later), and both act extremely obsessive towards certain tools, goals, and—most relevant to this post—people.

Now Raphael is definitely weird towards Tav/Durge, but it's a bit more ambiguous as to whether he's obsessed with them in particular or just sees them as a means to an end. The situation with Hope, on the other hand, is quite explicit. Raphael is obsessed with her, even naming his home after her, but there's not really anything material he gets out of her. Him imprisoning and torturing her is not a means to an end, he just does it because he's a sadist. He wants her attention, he is entertained by her defiance, he wants to break her—he both loves and loathes her.

And what do you know! Raphael's thing towards Hope is kinda similar to how Mephistopheles acts with his object of obsession—Asmodeus. Now, if you need to know anything about Mephisto's character, it's that he's envious. Envious towards his peers, envious towards his betters, even envious towards his inferiors—he resents that others' have what he does not. Even Martinet, Asmodeus' unflappable constable, thinks so: "Were Mephistopheles to become the King of Hell, it would take him less than an hour to start wondering why he wasn’t also ruler of Mount Celestia." (Guide to Hell, p. 45)

The #1 target of Mephisto's envy is Asmodeus. The man is capital-o Obsessed with him, ya'll.  Asmo is on his mind 24/7, haunting his every thought. He lives rent-free in Mephisto's head.

Mephisto is the silver medal to Asmo's golden 1st place. Eternally living in his shadow, the Starscream to Asmo's Megatron. He is always one step behind him—like, Mephistopheles has been trying to become a god for a while now, and just when he was about to succeed, the spellplague happened and Asmodeus ate the god Azuth like an energy bar, snatching up godhood by sheer luck. And then, of course, Mephisto's godhood plan fell through so now the power divide between them is even greater than it was before.

Bro tries so hard and it just doesn't work. Like, when Mephisto was going through his rebrand phase as the Lord of Hellfire, he changed his appearance to that of the "quintessential devil". But all that ended up doing is making mortals confused about who exactly he is—a lot of mortals straight up think he is Asmodeus. Like, to the point that Asmo just went "you're the manager of my cults now lol", so now the distinction between the two is even more blurry. Also, Mephisto's wife is straight up closer to Asmo than she is to him (see my Baalphegor post), which is just another spit in the face. Bro cannot win. (This ties into another similarity between him and his son; Raphael clearly got the loser gene from him.)

Now, obviously the situation between Raphael and Hope is very different than Mephisto's relationship towards Asmo—Hope is Raphael's captive, while Asmo is Mephisto's boss; Hope's life has been upended and tormented by Raphael, while Mephisto is at most an annoyance towards Asmo (bro has repeatedly told Asmo to his face that he would usurp him and Asmo is just like "whatever, dude")—but the level of obsession is similar. Raphael hates hope but is also desperate for her affection, Mephistopheles loathes and envies Asmodeus but is also his greatest ally. Both are desperate to fu—*ahem* both are psycho-sexually obsessed with them.

So, yeah. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

TLDR: Raphael inherited his psycho-sexually obsessive tendencies from his daddy lol. Also you should really read the lore about Asmodeus and Mephistopheles' relationship because it's actually insane y'all. Like this shit was made for the gays people.

[daenysx]

Hi! I hope you're doing well. Idk if my request got lost honestly but is it okay if i re-send my request?

This is about modern!Aemond's family. You hc that Aelyx is a mommy's boy. How do you imagine Aelyx and Aemond bond? Is there a time where they get to spend with each other?

hi, lovely !! i'm sorry, it's probably my fault because i remember seeing your request during the sleepover but i didn't answer it and it all got messy in my inbox. thank you for taking the time to send it again, i hope you enjoy <33333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, fluff

aemond targaryen is quite literally addicted to buy new books.

he has a perfect excuse for it now, it's not only for me- the kids will enjoy it as well. you like that about your husband, even when he puts his books everywhere at home. he's not messy, never, but he likes being able to reach any book he wants any time. he says they are organized in their own way. you won't argue with him, he knows how to charm his way out.

tonight you're taking alyssa for her first official girls night. aunt helaena invited her with the biggest smile on her face, she said it'll be fun, jaehaera will be there after all. there'll be lots of snacks, lots of conversations, and maybe alyssa can sleep early but it's okay. she's almost seven years old now, she likes being included.

she says goodbye to aemond with a big kiss on his cheek. he returns the kiss with an even bigger one, and a good hug that lasts for a few long seconds. you also get a kiss from him, and give him a promise to send pics of alyssa and jaehaera playing together.

aelyx hugs you next. he's a bit more clingy these days, an adorable boy with chubby cheeks and aemond's eyes. you kiss him many many times, tell him to have a good time with daddy.

when you leave, the boys of the house are alone. aemond takes his son in his arms, carries him to the couch because he always gets a bit upset when he sees you leave. he holds aemond's sweater in his tiny hand as aemond settles down on the couch.

this is where the books come into the picture. aelyx adores books. he's like a mini aemond, at least that's what aegon says, he likes touching the pages and looking at the pictures. he likes when one of you reads a part out loud for him. he falls asleep quicker when aemond goes through his favorite sleep story.

it's almost his bed time. aemond got him his favorite book, it's full of pictures and short paragraphs for his daddy to read out loud.

"shall we look at the pictures first?" aemond asks as his baby settles down on his lap comfortably. he'll probably fall asleep in a few minutes but it's okay. aemond rubs his big hand on his son's back in circles.

"yes, please." the boy says. "this one."

his tiny finger points the picture of a princess, there's a knight standing next to her. this was alyssa's favorite picture once. aemond gets a sense of nostalgia.

"oh, yes." aemond says softly. "do you like the princess?"

"looks like mommy."

"she does look like mommy. what about the knight?"

"hmm." aelyx lifts his head and puts it back on aemond's chest. no lovely thoughts about the knight apparently.

"can i read this part?" aemond asks. "it's the one about the knight saving the princess."

"okay." aelyx agrees. his eyes are half open, silver hair messy from being snuggled to aemond.

daddy always uses his softest voice when he's reading. it doesn't matter which book he reads. there's one about quantum physics, another one about ethical theories, there's alyssa's favorite fairytale, and it's always the same tone of his voice.

you told aemond that the kids adore his voice once, he quickly fell in love with this thought. he reads out loud until his throat hurts and aelyx loves it. it's a story book now because of his bed time but he'd gladly listen to one of aemond's politics books if it meant to hear daddy's voice for minutes.

"so they ran until they could reach to the forest. the knight turned to look back when he heard a voice, someone was behind the trees-"

aemond stops when he hears a tiny snore. a nice breathing sound coming from his baby on his chest. he takes his phone and sends a quick selfie to you, letting you know aelyx is asleep.

he stays there for a few minutes. it's always a nice feeling to hold his son in his arms, he resembles aemond in many ways but he also doesn't. he looks like him, thinks like him, talks like him. aemond knows he'll be better, though. at least aelyx will have a dad who tries his best to be included in his kids' lives.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, soldier, medic, and spy

↳ warnings: mentions of surgery and alcohol

↳ song: runaround sue—dion

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He’s such a doofus. It takes him at least a month to pick up on it

• The entire time you’re flirting or making moves on him, he’ll jokingly reciprocate it under the impression that you’re just joshing around

• It takes one of the other team members approaching him for the mercenary to realize what was actually going on

• “Son.” Engineer had sighed as he stood in the doorway to Scout’s very messy room, “You do realize they like you?”

• Scout’s very dismissive and red faced about it

• “What? Psh. Stop messing with me, Engie. Don't you have sentries to build or somethin’?”

• The second Engineer leaves, he’s practically tearing up his room in a tirade of emotions

• Overthinks the past few months with you way too much. Practically wears a spot into the floor from all the nervous pacing he does

• In the end, Scout confronts you to ask you out

• Tries to be formal, but we all saw how that turned out with Miss Pauling. Eventually just gives up on trying to be suave— and not succeeding —to blurt out what he’s thinking

• “So, uh, yeah. I’m not so. Er. Good at this sappy stuff, but there’s a Tom Jones museum I think we could go check out. Together.” Scout pauses, accent only getting thicker with worry, “Alone. Y’know?”

• Over the moon when you say yes. All nerves dissipate and are immediately replaced with a cross between a smug and relieved victory

• If you look close enough at his ears, they’re a little pink

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫

• If he hasn’t known you for long, Soldier will actually just chalk your actions up to being a communist spy

• A very exasperated Demoman had to get Miss Pauling to bring in heavily classified paperwork on you just to prove to him you weren’t a commie

• “Very well maggot! I’ll believe you— for now! Sleep with one eye open!” Soldier had barked, slamming down your file on the dining room table as a tired Pauling watched. You noted that the papers were upside down, and you doubt he even read them. Or that he could read

• He’s very blunt with everything. Words, actions, emotions, etc. Doesn’t understand why other people can’t just do the same. It would make conversation so much easier to him

• So he’s not oblivious to your attention per se. Just very curious, I suppose

• It takes maybe less than two weeks after the Communist Incident, as Demo had dubbed it, for him to corner you

• “Maggot! Do you find me attractive?” He demanded

• You’d been eating breakfast at the time, and almost choked to death on your laughter at the question

• “Short answer, yes.” You gasped through wheezy laughter, the volume only increasing at the frown on Soldiers face. “Follow up question; is that really how you just asked if I had a crush on you?”

• Nods and booms back that he thinks you’re also easy on the eyes. Proposes the idea of doing a training course with you sometime. Breaks out into a crooked grin when you accept

• “Excellent! I expect you up at oh five hundred for the course tomorrow!” He saluted you, which was Soldier equivalent to a bone crushing hug of respect

• You returned it, and missed the way his eyes crinkled with happiness behind the brim of his helmet

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Always so consumed in his work that he probably just ends up finding out from Archemedies

• The birds had always been allowed to rest on your shoulder while he performed risqué experiments on you, acting as a distraction from the feeling of someone sifting around in your guts

• I guess the dove had picked up on one too many looks you’d tossed the ex-doctors way

• To this day, no one can understand how the two of them can communicate, but one thing leads to another and suddenly Medic is looming in your doorframe silently

• “What’s up, doc?” You’d greeted him with a Bug’s Bunny quote and a grin. Medics lips only twitched up slightly as he pushed his glasses back up the brim of his nose

• “A little bird told me zhat someone has a crush, ja?” He barreled right into the topic, leaving no room for you to prepare for the sudden accusation. Medics scrutinizing gaze didn’t miss the way your eyes glanced in the direction of his lab, no doubt silently cursing Archemedies

• “No need to fear, freund.” He unclasped his gloved hands from behind his back and approached you. “I simply am here to offer you a deal.”

• Turns out the deal was a chance talk over cheap beer in his office. Pretty rare, considering how much of his time Medic chose to dedicate to work

• “I’ll take it.” You shook his hand, briefly noting how large it seemed even when compared to you

• “Vunderbar, mein schatz.” Medic smiled gently, leaving you to wonder what he had just said

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• There is no hiding when it comes to this French fuck

• Spy immediately picks up on every glance. Every chance of avoided eye contact and unnecessary clearing of a throat

• Suddenly he seems to be a lot more talkative towards you than normal. Hanging out by your side at gatherings rather than a dark corner with cigarette smoke curling around his head

• Fleeting touches slowly begin to sprinkle themselves in between conversation. A hand on the shoulder here, and a brief touch to the pulse point there

• The first time he did the latter, he noticed how fast your heart was beating and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a slight chuckle

• If he was nicer, Spy would definitely take action and approach your first. In fact, sometimes he almost finds himself wanting to

• But the man knows how people work. If you truly wanted to pursue him, you would come around eventually. No point in making rash decisions. He was a patient man, after all

• A small part of his ego preened at the thought of making you work for it

• And come around you did eventually did

• Finds himself opening the door to his smoking room one late night only to be met with the image of a very frazzled looking you

• You rush out something about a date too fast for his ears to catch. Spy is simply too busy letting his eyes roam over your casual cloathing and slight fidgeting. The crooning of an old French record plays from behind him as he blinks down at you

• “Would you like to come in?” He finally sighs out, opening the door a little wider in the form of an invitation

• By the time you manage to get inside, you notice he already had a wine glass set out for you

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 9

Hello! This story is moving right along. I'm not sure how much longer it will be but I've finally gotten to the competition part of the story and then we slowly ramp up to the Olympics where the real fun begins.

Some really juicy plot twists at the Olympics I can't wait for you to read. And the ending which I am vibrating to write for you.

In this we have a good therapy session, Max joins the team, and Eddie is a sweetheart. (Which we all knew).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

~

Steve knew he should have gone to therapy after the first time he tried to get into the water and had a fucking panic attack. But he was newly off his dad’s money and having to work for the first time in his life, he just didn’t have the time or the money to do it.

But now that he was getting paid a lot more as a coach and Dr. Hughes being willing to do the sessions after hours and therefor off the clock made it easier to try.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked into that neat office that Tuesday afternoon, but it certainly wasn’t a forty-something man with neat wire rimmed glasses and curly hair. He had a round face and pleasant smile. He was wearing a nice vest over a blue button up shirt.

Steve smiled and slid into one of the chairs in front of the desk Dr. Hughes was sitting behind. “I thought tweed jackets were standard issue for therapists.”

Dr. Hughes snapped his fingers. “Shucks, I knew there was something I forgot to do!”

Steve laughed and was immediately put at ease. “Eddie said you're the dad of one of his friends...”

Dr. Hughes’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “And you want to know how the son of a psychiatrist and licensed therapist is friends with the local drug dealer?” Steve blushed but nodded anyway. “I have two sons. Twins. My Gethin is everything a white, upper middle class parent could want. He’s quiet, smart, does particularly well in school, straight, dresses neatly. Popular at school, well liked by his teachers. His mother and I are very proud.”

“I’m guess your other son isn’t all that?” Steve huffed, flopping against the back of the chair. He could just picture this kid. Loud and angry and messy. A little bit like Eddie. God, he hoped the kid had some really good friends, because if he knew anything, he knew what it felt like to never be good enough in your parents eyes.

Dr. Hughes chuckled. “My son, Gareth is more like my wife. Loud, fierce, and vibrant. We got him his first drum set when was eight to help him work out his energy and it worked. He’s very good at it. He doesn’t get the grades Geth does, but we go to all his band’s shows, we celebrate his passing his classes. While doesn’t have as many friends as his brother, Gareth has a tight knit group that he can rely on for anything.”

Steve blinked at him with his mouth open.

“I do specialize in behavior analysis after all,” Dr. Hughes said with a tender smile, “I’d be a shit therapist and worse father if I didn’t at least follow what my profession says on the matter.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve said after snapping his jaw shut. “I guess I’ve just never seen a parent treat their kids equally before. One parent always has preference especially if one doesn’t fit inside their perfect box.”

“Ah ha!” Dr. Hughes said, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms of his chair. “The perks about a patient one can look up on the internet is knowing a bit about them before hand. Did you not fit into the box your parents made for you?”

Steve snorted. “Tell you the truth, Dr. Hughes,” he said picking at the skin around his nails, “I don’t think they cared enough to build the fucking box in the first place. My mom was always off with her charities and her clubs and my dad was only there to make sure I made them look good. But nothing was ever enough for them.”

“Do you think that your feelings of abandonment contributed to your trauma in the pool?”

Steve stare at him for a moment, head cocked to the side. He scratched his cheek nervously. “I guess I never really thought about it. I always assumed it was just getting hurt.”

“Trauma is rarely so black and white,” Dr. Hughes said gently. “We’re not going to dive straight into what happened at the Olympics. This first session is really about getting to know each other and deciding we’re the right fit for each other.”

Steve nodded and they got to talking about sports and somehow ended up on Eddie.

“He’s a good kid,” Dr. Hughes said. “A bit rough around the edges, but that is more to due to his circumstances and less to do to his actual personality.”

“I really don’t know him that well,” Steve admitted.

“And yet you offered to train him for the Olympics,” Dr. Hughes pointed out.

Steve snorted. “What’s something you’re good at that isn’t this job?”

“I’m really good at math. Particularly complex equations. My calculus teacher thought I should have been a mathematician.”

Steve nodded again. “So imagine you’re picking one of your sons from school and you pass by the classroom being used for dentition, and the teacher isn’t there. But instead of drawing dick pics on the white board, he’s correcting the teacher’s math. Correctly, I might add. Would you not want to jump in and help him achieve greatness if you could?”

Dr. Hughes pressed his lips together tightly. “And you saw that greatness in Eddie?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said seriously. “If he had been swimming in ‘08, he would have been on the US team; no doubt.”

Dr. Hughes blinked at him for a moment. “You told me you didn’t know him very well, but I think you know him better than you think you do.”

Steve blushed.

~

He arrived at the pool to find Eddie and Robin waiting for him in front of the rec center. As soon as he stepped onto the curb, Robin threw her arms around him.

“How did your first session go?” she asked anxiously. “Was it hard, are you okay? Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

Steve laughed and spun them both around. “It was fine. It was more about getting to know each other. Testing the water as it were. It was good. He was nice.”

Eddie grinned. “I’m glad you guys got along. Dr. Hughes was telling me and Gare that not every therapist is a fit for every person and we weren’t sure what we were going to do if it didn’t work out between you.”

“Suffer.”

Robin and Eddie laughed as Steve grinned at them.

“It’s my lot in life,” Steve huffed as he let go of Robin and started walking to the door.

“It’s not a lot,” Robin said.

“But it’s my life!” Eddie finished.

Steve’s grin turned into a fond smile. Yeah, he couldn’t get in the water now and maybe not ever, but he had Robin. And if everything turned out well, maybe Eddie, too.

When they got in to the dressing rooms to change, the other coaches and athletes were conspicuously absent. When Steve asked a passing Joyce about it when they got out, she said with a smile.

“I convinced them to use the other dressing rooms on the other side,” she said brightly. “After all they are closer to the pool they were supposed to be using.”

She patted him on the shoulder and went back to where every it was she was going.

Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He cocked his head back and forth. If that was the case...

He walked up to Robin and Eddie and clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “All right guys, a slight change of plans. As soon as Max gets here, we’ll be using the second main pool today.”

“Where is the goon squad today?” Robin asked.

Steve just grinned. “Not here.”

Max came running up to him in a panic. “I can’t fit my hair under the cap! I don’t want to get chlorine in it. Trust me when I say that red hair and chlorine don’t mix.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and his hand went shakily to the top of his head. He ran his fingers through his curls nervously. “You don– they wouldn’t make me shave my head, would they?”

Steve’s jaw hardened. “If they try and make you, I will drown them personally. Shaving a man’s hair is fucking pointless because it’s going to be under the cap. If you weren’t swimming with one, then I could see it. But as you won’t, there is no need to do it. Robin will help Max do her hair, and I’ll help you do yours, okay?”

Eddie sat down on the edge of the pool and Steve began braiding Eddie’s hair and gently weaving it. He put the cap on Eddie’s head, starting from the back. Eddie adjusted it so that it sat perfectly over the tips of his ears.

Eddie turned back to thank him, but gulped when he realized how close Steve was. “Right. Um... thanks.”

Steve blushed, stepping away to let Eddie slide into the pool. Robin and Max followed close behind. Steve got up on the lifeguard chair and pulled out his clipboard.

“Since Max is going to be learning the different types of strokes,” he said brightly, “we’ll have Eddie demonstrate each one and then I’ll rate them. And while I’m talking to Eddie, Robin can help Max learn the first one.”

“Sure thing!” Eddie chirped happily. He tussled Max’s cap and she pushed him off of her. “Just you watch me, Red. I’ve got this in the bag.” He looked up at Steve. “Which one do you wanna try out first, Coach?”

“Backstroke is what you’re best at,” Steve said with a smile. “Go on, showoff. I know you want to.”

Eddie grinned and then wadded over to the second line, ducking under the floaties. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, then looked up at Steve, giving him a thumbs up. Steve blew the whistle and off Eddie went. Robin talked Max through everything Eddie was doing and the mechanics of it all. When Eddie touched the return plate he looked up at Steve.

Steve pressed the button on his stopwatch. “Not a bad time and your form was really good.” He then gave Eddie scores on his technique and style, Eddie nodding along.

“Translate!” Max snapped at Robin, causing the two men to snap their heads up to look at her.

Steve blushed in embarrassment as Eddie grinned at her.

“Sorry, Max,” Steve murmured. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a person to talk swim with since– well, since before Tommy decided to shove a stick up his ass.”

Max’s eyes went wide with gleeful surprise at Steve swearing. He wasn’t allowed swear at children so the kids had never heard his more colorful language.

“Steve!” she said in awe. “There are children present.”

Steve laughed. “Like you don’t swear the worst of them. Well, all except Dustin. That kid has the worst potty mouth.”

“Oof,” Robin said with a wince. “I’d say he swears like a sailor, but I think even sailors would blush at his language.”

Max cocked her head to side and then nodded. “Yeah okay. He’s worse than I am. But barely. Like I’m better at coming up with insults then he is. He usually just resorts to ‘your mom!’ when he can’t think of anything.”

“That’s a preeetty piss poor insult,” Eddie cackled. “Like does he even know your mom?”

“I think he does it because his mom is a literal saint,” Robin said solemnly. “Like she always brings us donuts or homemade muffins. No one would dare say it back to him lest the lose access to the most delicious baked goods in existence.”

Eddie eyes went wide. “Those triple chocolate muffins were hers?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, nodding. “She can’t decorate for shit, so her cakes aren’t pretty to look at but they are so good you forget the icing was starting to slip off one side a bit.”

“That’s because she gets too excited to share it,” Max said with a fond eye roll, “so she doesn’t wait for it to cool down enough before she starts frosting anything.”

“Right, right,” Eddie said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “note to self never insult Dustin’s mom. Got it.”

Steve nodded seriously. They got back to swimming and were wrapping up when the goon squad arrived.

They were on their way out, laughing and talking. About what Steve couldn’t make out. Then someone bumped Steve’s hip sending him toward the pool. He let out a shriek of unequivocal terror and squeezed his eyes shut, fearing the absolute worst.

But the splash never came. There was no rushing of water, no feeling of enveloped and choked by the waves. All he felt was cold arms holding him tightly to a broad, flat chest. One that as very wet and very, very naked. His arms were trapped between his chest and the person holding him, but he didn’t struggle.

He leaned into the touch, his eyes still squeezed shut, his heart racing behind his ribs. The arms began moving gently to stroke his back as muttered phrases slowly brought him round again.

He opened his eyes to stare directly into the warmest brown eyes he had ever seen. It was like when he woke up from his panic attack.

“There you are, big boy,” Eddie murmured. “I’ve got you.” He brushed Steve’s hair gently out of his face.

That’s when he realized that there was screaming going on around them.

“I don’t care who your father is, Hannah,” Joyce was shouting, “until he signs my paychecks, I’m in charge here and had Steve fallen in, he could have you charged with assault.” The girl turned pale and immediately everyone shut up. “That’s right, pushing someone in a pool is so dangerous Steve would have every right to have you arrested. Now get out of here.”

After everyone made sure Steve was okay, Robin walked him to the car and shoved him into the passenger side. As she slid behind the wheel she said, “It’s a good thing Eddie had such fast reflexes.”

“Yeah.” And all the way home, Steve thought about those arms wrapped around him, keeping him safe.

~

Part 10 Part 11

Tag List: CLOSED

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

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9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @eriquin @tartarusknight @gloomysoup @morallyundefined

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Could you do your own analysis abt what traits/behaviours Aegon and Aemond got from Alicent? They both took after her and it's insane

What a wonderful question! Thank you for it, and my apologies for the delay with answering - and for the direction the answer ended up taking (you might have meant some specific examples as opposed to the more general thing I`m about to offer).

I`d like to start with this:

It definitely doesn`t mean that I enjoy watching either of them suffer or wish torment upon them (especially given that Aegon and Aemond are my absolute faves and Alicent is among my top 5 HotD/F&B characters as well). What I do find fascinating is how all of them are enduring the pain: living it, transforming it and channelling it into the world with nothing but a look.

And I find just as interesting the way the mother and the sons express their feelings when their adversaries find themselves in a tight spot, in one way or another:

It`s definitely schadenfreude but one tinged with the sense of curiosity and slight disbelief, as in "Looks like you could have problems as well after all, huh?"

Сontinuing with this mother-children connection, it has to be said that Aegon and Aemond are absolutely self-sufficient characters with their own motivation and unique traits; but in some way they are also Alicent`s agents, the way she speaks with the world (just like in one sense or another sense all people are continuation of their parents - even if they never knew them its their absence that leaves an imprint on a person`s soul).

Aegon is the voice of her suffering.

(I`m all in for the theory according to which Aegon is a nail biter just as his mother is a nail picker - and these habits do not come from a happy place).

Aemond is the voice of her bitterness and rage.

It`s almost feels like emotion-wise Aegon resembles Alicent in static while Aemond represents her in dynamic.

And it`s heartbreaking to think that when both of them were dead Alicent once again had to lock all her pain and anger within herself - and those grew insurmountable over the course of the Dance and eventually drove her mad.

Additionally, it`s of interest to note that all three of them are driven by duty in one way or another - but they handle it differently.

Both Alicent and Aegon wear theirs like a royal chain around their neck (if S2 doesn`t show us Aegon embracing the burden of ruling, if only for the sake of his family, I`m ignoring it); but where Aegon doesn`t take his off because of being afraid something terrible will happen if he does, Alicent just can`t fathom doing it. This metaphorical chain has grown into her body and become an inalienable part of her.

And for Aemond duty is not a piece to wear but a weapon to wield. He is so aggressive about it (even if it`s passive aggression) that it almost feels like it`s a material object - and a quite sharp one, a worthy addition to the sword and the dagger.

I`m sorry if the answer`s turned out to be messy. I just have way too many feelings about this family:)

[picturejasper20]

Danny and Vlad's relationship in TUE timeline is so interesting to me because it is just so messy in many angles.

You have this kid that lost all his family and moves to this house of a person he thinks he could understand his pain but at the same time this person is his archnemesis.

I imagine that Vlad would try to buy Danny all these sort of material things, like a huge room, videogames or allow him to visit places that expensive. He wants to believe he is doing better than Jack as father, and maybe in a few ways he does, but also he keeps seeing that what he is doing doesn't work and Danny keeps his distance of him.

As like, Vlad really craves for being loved, specially in a way that is having father-son bond with Danny. Yet he is so focused on this idea that he doesn't see what Danny really wants, which is someone to understand what he is going through or be there for him. And we know that Vlad himself is pretty bad on these things.

I can see Danny having these moments he wants to talk to Vlad and tell him what is on his mind but he stops on his tracks when he tries, he doesn't know how talk to this man. Or maybe Vlad doesn't fully pay him attention and he just decides to avoid him because of that.

At some point Vlad would realize what he is doing wrong and that he just doesn't know how to be a father- he thought it would be easier when it is not. After his realization he would try to change the way he approaches Danny and Danny would likely do the same, as he actually feels being heard instead of ignored.

[prettymonegasque]

cards and flowers

Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader

Summary: Love is found through many ways. Yours was through messy cards from an adorable toddler with a cute dad.

Warnings: SO.MUCH.CUTENESS. nothing else just fluff!!

Word Count: 1k

A very special fic inspired from my very first request <3

“Papa! We should give her Floppy. Floppy is a great doctor.” Theo held out his stuffed toy as Charles buckled the 3-year-old in the car seat. “Sure, mon amour. She would love it.” Charles chuckled and kissed his son’s forehead. He let out a deep breath and got into the driver’s seat. 

His teammate had a nasty crash during the Saudi Arabian GP. She made it out alive but sustained some minor injuries and had to be hospitalised for monitoring. Charles always worries about everyone he loves. He cannot even fathom losing anyone, especially the girl he’s grown to love and fall harder for every second. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you and never had the balls to confess his feelings. 

The sound of Theo singing along to the radio shook him out of his thoughts. Charles looked at him through the rearview mirror and smiled. He couldn’t wait for two of the most important people in his life to meet.

‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫

“Theo, when we get in we should talk very softly okay? No yelling or running. You should be very gentle. Tu comprends?” (you understand?) Theo nodded as Charles gave him a soft smile and held the toddler’s hand guiding him through the hospital halls. He couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. You might not have met Theo before but Charles spoke so much about him that it felt like you’ve raised him. He lightly knocked at the door to your suit and heard a low voice asking him to come in. 

“Hey. How are you doing?” Charles gently approached you. Theo clutched his father’s calf and shied away. You let out a small laugh, “I’m fine Charles. This must be the famous little Theo Leclerc.” The toddler replied with a mumble. “Désolé bébé. I didn’t catch that.” You cooed at Theo. “‘m not little. I’m three.” Theo confidently showed two fingers and gave you a toothy grin. 

“Oh my! You’re a big boy, aren’t you? I’m so sorry sir.” You dramatically apologised and got out of bed. Charles immediately stopped you. “Don’t you dare get up. You’re supposed to be resting.” “Lord Perceval, as much as I love you dotting over me, they cleared me for Australia. In fact, I’m getting discharged this evening.” You ignored the eye roll from the Monegasque and kneeled before the toddler to level with him. “Nice to meet you, Theo. I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand which the toddler promptly shook.

“Papa talked a lot about you. He said you’re prettier than Rapunzel. But I think Rapunzel is more prettier.” Theo shrugged. “Did he actually say that?” You giggled and looked up to find a blushing mess of a man. “I do agree with you, Theo. Rapunzel is so much more prettier.”  “Mon chou, don’t you have something to give to Y/N.” Charles tried to switch the subject before his little spawn revealed anything more. “We got you flowers. Papa said lilies are your favourite. I also made you a card. Papa drew everything but I coloured it. I’m very good at colouring.” He shoved the flowers in your hand and proudly showed you the card.

Your heart skipped a beat every time Theo mentioned that his papa talked about you. Does he always talk about me? A silly little thought entered your brain but you were quick to brush it off and continued your conversation with Theo. Unbeknownst to you, Charles was hopelessly falling in love with you and wondered how wonderful it would be if he could witness this every day for the rest of his life.

‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫

It’s been 3 years since that day at the hospital. Three championships, one champagne-and-sweat-covered confession and a lot of dates later, you and Charles sat on the island watching Theo giggling and running from the waves. After a successful yet hectic first half of the season, you relished the quiet moments you got with your little family during the break. You turned to kiss your boyfriend to find him staring at the void, deep in thought. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You nudged him, shaking him out of his trance. He gave a puzzled look. “Whatchu thinking about baby?” “Just you and how much I love you.” He leaned down and kissed you softly. “I love you too, Charles. Toujours.” (always) He smiled and then called out for Theo. The now 6-year-old came running into his arms at full speed. You started tickling him and cherished the giggles that erupted from him. After he calmed down, he looked at his dad and nodded. You were a little suspicious but let it pass. 

“Theo, mon chou, don’t you have something to give Y/N?” Charles urged him. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Oh yes.  Papa and I made you a card. I drew and coloured it all this time. Look!” He handed you a white envelope. You were still confused, it wasn’t an anniversary or birthday why are you getting a card? But when you opened the envelope and read the card your confusion was replaced by disbelief. 

You gasped and looked up to find your boyfriend on one knee while Theo tried to suppress his excitement. “Y/N, ma cherie. I’ve had the immense pleasure of knowing you for the past four years. And I’ve loved every second of the last three when I got to call you mine. The day Theo was born, I told myself I would love him like no human in this world could. But then you came into our lives and showed both of us a kind of love that is so pure and raw. I don’t ever want that love to stop shielding us. So will you do both of you the greatest honour and marry me?” You were full-on sobbing, snot and all. Charles was tearing up as well. Theo looked like he was about to burst from anticipation. “Yes” That one word changed your life forever. 

‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫ ꒱‧₊˚ ♡ 𓈒 𔘓 ۫

I am very sleep deprived so if you see any plot holes or typos, no u didnt uwu