#i can memorize one peice

[thatonecatcat]

“you cant make a hilda one peice au! you only watched till water 7!”

watch me.

[snail-migraine]

Requested by: @elysiumrealms

Sure! I did think some fleshing out on how the rest of the family acts around them would be cool to write. Sorry this took so long btw, my inbox gets stuffed pretty quickly and it was finals week. Anyway thanks for the ask!

-

Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

Pt.3

For you, the time before your punishment was nothing but a blurry mess.

Genuinely you don't remember all your horrible habits and manipulative tactics, you just remember acting on your insticts and not really thinking before you acted.

The few things you do remember is the interactions you had with your other family members.

The most memorable were the ones with Grandpa Lilia, when you were younger he loved cuddling you upside-down. Even if his grip was iron-strong it still felt so warm that you didn't want to leave.

When you got older he would allow you to play with some of his video games, he was always so sweet and helpful. Making sure you never got too frustrated at one certain part before taking the controller from you and completing whatever challenge had you stumped.

Lilia just loves babying you in a way he never got to with either of his original children.

He never failed to make you feel like the spoiled little brat you were.

"Ooh! Don't cry Darling, there's no need for that. Here, do you need Grandpa to help you? Okay sweet-pea. Don't worry, grandpa's here for you"

Then there's uncle Silver, who whose probably the most boring person to hang out with out of everyone in the family.

Don't get me wrong, you enjoyed his company but nothing even vaguely interesting happened whenever you hung around him.

He always really apologetic about it though, even going as far to bring you a little toy everytime he was allowed alone time with you. Typically is just a teddy bear, so that at night when you fell asleep you would think of your uncle Silver.

"Sorry we weren't able to play today. Here, have this. It's so when you fall asleep at night, you'll always remember your uncle Silver."

Your uncle sebek on other hand, he was hard to forget.

He was always loud, his voice commanded battalions after all. So a voice like his would definitely need for job like that.

You and him never played together, in his own words "WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD DESERVES A MUCH BETTER PLAYMATE THAN A LOWRANKING OFFICER SUCH AS MYSELF!"

Or whatever that was supposed to mean. You never really understood his way of thinking. While he was screaming his head off about not being good enough for you, you had sit and listen to him whilst daydreaming of all the video games Grandpa Lilia would play with you later.

It was boring, and eventually as you grew older you learned to tune him out.

Though I guess that wasn't the greatest idea, because within a week of learning how tune out his voice he came to you sobbing on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness.

"PLEASE FORGIVE ME WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD! WHATEVER SLIGHT HAVE DONE TO YOU, I BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS AND MERCY! JUST PLEASE STOP IGNORING ME MY LEIGE!"

But I guess that all leads you to where you are now. Stuck in a boring old rickety tower. Stuck studying and doing chores all day. At least Father allowed for your family to visit from time to time.

Their faces and voices make the endless cycle you've been going through day-to-day slightly more bareable. But to be perfectly honest, with every passing moment that you're stuck here; in this damned tower made to be your prison, you lose a small peice of your sanity.

A peice of your mind that can never be returned to it's owner.

Trully a cruel thing to do, especially to your own child. Isolating them from everyone and everything they've ever known to prove a point, when it wasn't even truly their own faults that caused such a mess? Foolish, and downright cruel if anyone asked you.

Ah, but what can you do?

You did do this to yourself after all, might as well own up to your mistakes and pay the price.

[annah-kitathryne]

I don't trust Batfamily fans who will hate everything about one character all the time always. They refuse to admit that the character does anything good for the story, or has a valuable asset to whatever group, team, person, or case that they are working on.

I think a healthy dislike is okay. Everyone who has ever talked to me knows I'm pretty critical of Bruce. Everyone on Tumblr who has read any of my posts knows that Jason annoys me.

However, they are still compelling characters who can be really interesting narrative and character wise. I actually think Jason can be an interesting character to use in stories.

That being said, everyone should be critical about their favourites. I follow the anti-Tim Drake tag for a reason. Because one it makes me ask the question, "Is my perception of Tim in rose coloured glasses, does what the person says have any basis in canon, and is this information i should think over or more on from?" It also keeps my critical thinking skills up, and my ability to memorize information and peice together said information.

That also being said Anti Tags for all the Batfam is filled with mysogeny, racism, classism, homophobia, and ablism.

[Correction: some of the main anti tags aren't as bad anymore. Hope they stay that way. Avoid Redit it can be really bad.]

Selfishly it makes me feel better about my ability to consume and create media. Because I'm at least better than the bare minimum.

Anyway, here's the thing. Stop being crazy stans who can't take a single criticism and stop being crazy antis who can't take a single criticism. Learn to balance the adoration and dislike.

Please read source material before you say fuck canon, because how do you know what to change if you have never read the material before. You wouldn't want someone who had never learned to fix or handle a car to suddenly come in and try to upgrade it for you?

Source material is important. Don't know where to start. Click the search bar and type out

[favourite character] reading list

If it doesn't appear on Tumblr click the search engine you use [Firefox, Google, internet explorer, safari, bingo, yahoo etc.] And type the same thing.

[lamentingocean]

JAHA X READER

The dark clouds of the sky but only a memorable day of potentially dangerous rejection and love can occur into the streets of China, jaha didn't know what to do since he had always been the smartest in every situation and in every battle.

of when his clothes are bathed in the blood of powerful fighters and soldiers along his path to his goal, and to a world of bliss for rules to not be followed by such a class of martial artists,

Throwing their yuan away in such a cocky mentality, the master of the black rabbit clan knew how to take care of threats like that, even if it means having shards of a enemy's sword getting scattered in the ground of class, even if it means protecting ilyang, even if it means protecting Y/N from the dangers of this world, the dangers of China and therefore their path to power and vengeance leading to destruction and wars,even if it means the essence of insanity scraped his soul.

yuan rattled on his hand as he surveyed the remaining gifts to buy for Y/N. It was pure ruby earrings. It was a beautiful chinese dress, it was perfumes of the finest caliber of scents. there are so many options.

A flashback banged into his head. He suddenly remembered what you like, and what you like mattered to him even if he's a cold-blooded killer with an aura called the definition of danger.

"I actually like blue earrings, I like the way they shine, and they look like the ocean to me? Don't you agree?"

he came inside the shop where the earrings were stored at, there were many shades of color, blue, green, white, black, gray, orange. the blue one on the side caught his blood red eyes.

the beautiful earrings looking into his eyes were called.

The forbidden city of the ocean, it all spelled out in Chinese, and a rare Chinese ink to make it stand out more. he picked them up in slight awe. thinking: Would they look good on her? a voice interrupted his thought process. it was a man in the first desk.

with an angry look on why he dared touch a fine piece of jewelry, wearing his hands like an illuminating necklace, jaha questioned in his ordinary sass.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

"You're touching a rich peice of jewelry? If you aren't going to pay for that, then get the hell out of my shop?"

he picked up the jewelry anyway and walked up to him. The intimidation scared the man that insulted a master terrified him to the brink. like it went through his thick skull. a large amount of yuan slammed onto the desk.

"I need to pay for this."

"First of all, you don't come up to my shop like that sir, most people treat the jewelry with respect."

It was at this point that this man was pushing him to the brim, even the vein on his forehead shown it as a sign to stop talking before death kisses him in the face into the afterlife. the man hesitated on spitting out the next words that will spill in the next second.

and if he did, then he had a 30 chance to be alive. His red eyes took his mind into a terrified panic. his words spit out orchestras of fear.

"FINE. IT'S FREE. TAKE IT. JUST DONT HURT ME.."

his sweat soak his armpits, the filling shit of his system kept pouring down out of fear of whoever this man is.

"W-who are you?"

his footsteps walked to the door, and jaha didn't want to speak to him any longer after his terrified voice almost gave him a nearing headache. He looked at the real price of the earrings.

"Hmm..50,000 yuan."

he went to a place he knew you would be at, since that's a place that stored the most memories of you inside that insane head. It was raining blossoms.

he saw you near the lake, looking beautiful as ever, with (whatever chinese outfit you like) somehow. he felt happy and a sensation of peace in his aura. like he felt like he was in heaven with you. Blossoms coated his void black hair cutely.

you turned with a bag of desserts on your arm, happy to be spending time with jaha after all the missions and drama you two have gone through.

From the demonic cult, the martial arts league, the light faction, and the dark faction.

you saw him with an existing happiness and popped a strawberry, chocolate cake that is small as a kitten in his mouth.

"COME ON♡ LETS GO TO THE QIXI FESTIVAL!"

(my comeback era for writing came back)

[professional-yearner]

Hey :) hope you are doing ok.

I was wondering if there is gonna be a pt2 of The Safe house story ??? I just wanna say that I totally loved it and hope you will continue🥰

Have a nice day 😘

The safe house 🤍 (Pt. 2) (Captain Wilco x reader)

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TW/WARNINGS: having a gun pointed at you, concussions and being dazed, having to remove peices of armor from an unconscious person, blaster marks, mention of wounds, collapsing, fainting, having to care for a grown person, dead relatives, broken arms

A/N: Tysm! I'm so glad you liked it! And yes, there's going to be more than a few parts, they'll just come out very slowly 😭

@littlenephilim999uriel

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Grumbling, you crouched down, setting down your new companion gently against a tree, breathing hard.

You had taken to slinging his arm around your shoulders and moving him that way, though his legs still dragged behind and your back was screaming with the effort of not collapsing under his weight. He had to be at least a foot and some change taller than you, making it even more difficult not to get his legs caught on things along the way.

The most nerve wracking part, though, was making sure he was still breathing normally and not slipping into some sort of coma.

You kneeled next to him, patting his chest plate and eventually his cheek insistantly to try to get him to open his eyes. Luckily, it worked, as it had the other three times, though he was just as out of it.

"9980…What?" He mumbled, blinking slowly.

You breathed a sigh of relief, he had been mumbling a series of numbers (who you guessed were, sadly, his brothers) and nonsense every time you had woken him up, but at least he was waking up.

"Okay, thank you, dear. You can go back to sleep now."

He hummed, closing his eyes again and resuming his light breathing.

You grunted, taking his arm around you again and pushing both of you to your feet once more.

After a few more hours of this, you finally reached the discreet, familiar path that led down to the safe house. You nearly sobbed with relief, your back and legs clearly sharing the sentiment.

You sped up, the decline allowing you some ease with your precious cargo. When you finally reached the door, you typed in the short code quickly, thanking the maker that you had memorized it as young as age five.

The door swooshed open, near good as new, and you almost dropped him in preemptive relief as soon as you passed the threshold. Instead, you continued to drag him, tapping along the hardwood floor with your foot until you found the hollow sound you seeked.

Finally you kneeled, still supporting his weight, and pressed firmly on the spot. You laughed lightly as the hatch rose slowly, always in awe of your grandfather's workmanship and his ability to bring older practices into the modern day so efficiently.

You poked your head into the space below. It smelled like dust more than anything, but you could make out faint traces of the incense he used to burn to flush out the smell of the game he would prepare in his workspace. Feeling along the wall, you found the switch, bathing the room in a soft orange glow.

You huffed, beginning a careful descent of the wooden steps that led into the space, yelping when you accidentally smacked his armored shoulder against the hatchframe.

After a few minutes of struggling, you finally got him down onto one of the three cots that lay collecting dust in the small room attached to the main living quarters.

"Oh, thank the maker-" You wheezed, bracing your hands on your aching back. You were so eager to just get everything in the storage rack unpacked so you would have food and medicine to actually live off of, nearly out the door to go do all of that before you passed out beside him, but you stopped.

One more time, just to be safe.

You beat the dust out of the cot beside him, moving him over. His breathing was still even, which you thought was a good sign as you leaned over him, trying not to invade his space more than you needed to to check on him.

You patted him quickly, "You still there, uh- sir?"

His eyes opened slowly once more, squinting as they adjusted to the lamp light.

You smiled down at him, brushing his hair back, "Good."

Slowly, your eyes came to rest upon his armor; you had to remove it, didn't you?

Would that be crossing a line? Maybe, but you would have to to inspect the blaster mark that marred his chest plate and to get a splint on that broken arm. It was necessary, even if it would probably be uncomfortable for both of you.

Carefully, you decided to start on his bad arm. He groaned as you undid his shoulder plate, making you wince.

"I know, I know- I'm sorry." You nodded, moving to his Rerebrace.

By the time you got to his gauntlet plate, you felt eyes on you.

You looked up and right into his dilated, honey irises.

"Oh, hello." You managed to laugh lightly, genuinely surprised that he had enough energy to stay awake for more than a few seconds.

He continued to stare, and you eventually went back to sliding off the last piece of that arms plating, placing it on the pile at your feet.

Setting his arm down as gingerly as you could, you went about unclipping his chest plate, placing the pieces on the floor and checking for damage to the chest of his black body glove that lay underneath. There didn't seem to be any blood or even a burn mark on it, thank the maker, it must have been a glancing shot.

Satisfied with your inspection, you got up, going to look for one of your grandfather's old medical journals to find how one actually went about making a splint. Or, you were, until he grabbed a hold of your wrist with his good hand.

You turned, confused as he squinted up at you for several moments.

Finally, he cracked a slight grin, letting out a flirty, slightly slurred, "Heyyy~"

You both stood like that for a second, staring at each other, until you snorted softly, detaching his hand with little effort, "Hey."

-

When you finally returned, armed with your new knowledge, a first aid kit, and a cool cloth, he was passed out again, snoring lightly now.

You placed it over his forehead, smiling when his pinched expression softened at the sensation.

Moving an old wooden chair to the side of the bed where his bad arm rested. It was a task to move it from his stomach in a way that minimized his wincing, but you managed, wrapping the area with the most swelling in a gauze bandage firmly.

Placing the splint along his forearm, you fastened it with straps of old fabric as tightly as you could without hurting him, avoiding the wound itself, and at last, you placed the arm carefully in a sling. You were shaking with nerves by the time you were finished, too nervous that you might've messed something up, but he didn't seem to be going into shock so you were most likely good.

Rising from your spot once more, you left the room, sending him one last look in the doorway before turning the corner to begin unfreezing a few portions for a decent supper for the two of you.

You were only a few minutes into beginning the cooking process on your small stove when you heard a bang from the other room, making you jump.

Getting up quickly, you rushed down the hall to make sure your new companion hadn't hurt himself by rolling off his cot or something, but when you arrived in the doorway again, you could only really stare in shock.

The man had somehow managed to get to his feet, albeit not steadily, shaking and swaying in a way that had you walking slowly and carefully over to him, nervous of startling him but terrified he would collapse and hit his head/arm.

Unfortunately for you, he was still awake enough to draw one of his blasters quickly when you did startle him, pointing them directly at you.

I really should have thought to take those off of him, you thought.

But you had been so concerned with getting him safely to the house that you had completely forgotten about the weapons, even though that's what you had approached him for in the first place.

The only thing you could do was stare like a dugar dugar in headlights as he trained them shakily on you.

Your eyes trailed from the barrels of his blaster to make contact with his, pleading in a way you hoped would show that you weren't a threat.

His eyes widened as they locked with yours and, slowly, he lowered his weapon, letting his arm fall limply to his side.

You let out a sigh of relief, not breaking eye contact as he stared at you, seeming almost in a dazed sort of awe. Though, your relief was cut short as he stumbled, falling to his knees as his eyes closed once more. You scrambled to his side, allowing him to collapse into you and sighing as his head came to rest on your shoulder, now breathing lightly again.

It wasn't a huge operation hauling him back up onto the bed, but you were still shaking from having a blaster aimed at you. You frowned down at his sleeping form, exasperated as you took the guns from his hand and holster.

This was going to be one long and wild ride, wasn't it?

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

IkePri tattos part 2! It's gonna be the main bitches now since we went over the others in part 1

Chevy:

He saw it when he first broke into your room to get away from his annoying brothers and get a moment of peace. He shrugged it off and went to do what he was there for, to read in peace, and be with you i guess.

When the two of you got closer, he softly asked about your tattoo. He obviously looked into what every peice of it meant, chucking at the way you saw yourself, but adorning it, like he adores you.

Once you were done explaining, he just nodded and kissed it. "It just makes you all the more of a fool, putting yourself trough pain to enhance and express your beauty"

Riolo:

He knew about your tattoo before you both made it into the palace. I mean, he sees you as his spouse already-

"Hm? I didn't realize that working in that bookshop makes you really important-" he examined and memorized your tattoo

"Huh? What do you mean?" You looked confused

Rio shrugged a bit "it's quite amazing tough! Perfect match for my future wife!" He grinned brightly at you, like allways

He also had little pawprint tattos on his ankle, he dosent really rember much about them tough

Jin:

He would be one of the first people to notice it. He won't bring it up tough. Why should he?

Even when the two of you get closer, he won't ask about it. He'll listen to whatever you need him to hear tough. He trusts you, so he'll learn eventually.

I think he would get a little intimidated by the tattoo tough depending on what it is of

Clavis:

So, when this man figured out that you have a tattoo, he doodles one onto himself/gets someone else to. Just to see how you would react.

He porpiously gets into a situation where you get to nicely see it (he may or may not be wearing a shirt. It's funny to see you all flusterd when you see him shirtless).

Nokoto:

I think alot of things he finds hot, tattoos are definately one of them.

He will do whatever you want.

If your tattoo comes with a story, he'll listen while traceing it, leaveing little kisses on it.

Don't think you two will be leavei g bed anytime soon tho-

Luke:

I think he sees how strong you are for getting a tattoo and loves you all the more because of it. He would share his story if you tell him yours.

"It shows you lived, like any scrape, scar, and mark on your skin. You have lived, loved, and created some sort of life. It's amazing! You're amazing..."

Yeves:

He has a memorial tattoo of his mother and his caretaker, just to keep them close forever. Like the earing he wears.

When he sees your tattoo, he dosent pry into it. He dosent wish to do anything to accidentally harm you if he does. He will just adore it quietly.

Licht:

Probably noticed it last. He has been avoiding you.

But when the time has come when he does see it, I think he is about the least rational. He gets worried that you got hurt to get this, or that someone branded you, or something.

He doesn't get why his anxieties are overwhelmed by this, but it is. So he sternly asks, listening to your awnser.

He would probably just, hold you after he learned. He wants you to just be safe... that's all...

Sariel:

He was a little surprised when he caught sight of your tattoo for the first time. But he was quick to shake it off, for now. He was there to help you dress properly afterall.

Then you started to nerviously ramble about your tattoo, and he just found that adorable. So he entertained you and listened to what you had to say about it.

"I don't think there has been another Belle with a tattoo, but I can see if there was one if you wish, so you can feel a little more comfortable in this role." He offerd a smile

"That would be nice.." you nodded a bit, glad he wasn't being judgemental of it.

To tease you, he kissed where your tattoo was before he left you to your devices so you can do your makeup and hair.

[evilminji]

@sroomheaddoc @stealingyourbones you know what? Because I CAN. Let's give this a shot. :

Lucius glanced down at the "nightlight". He could already spot no less then fifteen different lawsuits waiting to happen and god only knew how many more ways to weaponize it. That wasn't even TOUGHING on what ways EXACTLY the kid had decided to set the damn thing to define what was or wasn't an "intruder".

"Absolutely not. Put it back." He got for his trouble.

The Head Meance had the gall to look as though he didn't know EXACTLY what he was doing and why he had been moved to the 'baby jail' projects. Lucius may pretend he didn't KNOW they were called that, plausible deniablity was after all a Wayne Industries tradition, but that didn't mean he would tolerate literally weaponized sass. A night light? REALLY?

"We both know you were told to, and I quote," holding a hand out, Jerrica handed him Fenton's official project assignments pulled up on his pad, "Ah yes, here we go, 'a non-violent personal defense device for today's youth'."

To be perfectly honest? Lucius had already memorized what assignments these precocious little monster had. This was purely for show. That said, if Fenton want to sass him like a sulking teenager over being forced to do boring work? Then by god he was prepared to pull every lesson he ever learned as a father of four. Andrew may have a spine like a wet peice of cardboard, but you do not become minority CEO in a place like Gotham by lacking spine. Nor do you get to marry women like Tanya.

Fenton had fallen still. Inhumanly so. He had the slight tilt to his head of a man considering both his oppent and options, slightly narrowed eyes never leaving Lucious face. To be honest, Lucius still couldn't decide if Fenton and his lot were Metas, Supernatural Creatures, or just from some strange alien settlement (from what he can guess) somewhere near Illinois. All he knew is that they were all both too smart for their own good and dumb as lemmings. Would slap an eldritch god with a dead fish, for a corn chip they didnt even want.

And someone had thought it was a GREAT idea to give them power tools. Don't get him wrong, they were RIGHT, but it was still a headache.

"What if..." started Fenton in that Distinctly 'Bargaining to see what you'll let me get away with' tone he had heard far too many time from grown adults, "I could make it shoot a net? That's not violent! Is the tazer the problem? Cause Star's multipurpose Knuckledusters-drink holder-handcuffs-tazer design was really good! But if you don't like tazers we can stop adding them!"

"................." Lucius was going to have to make A List, wasn't he? "You know what? Let's start with that. I have a problem we tazers. No more high voltage everyday appliances, okay people?

"Sooooo..." The Fenton Menace began, a suspiciously fangy and victorious grin spreading across his face, slowly holding up his night light like a proud parent. "Does this mean-"

"Oh, not on your life." The grin dropped to a sulk. "You aren't blind, kid. You know as well as I do that would never pass a consumer safety inspection. Not even here in Gotham.you ever want to so much a STAND in the same building as the aerospace division? You're going to have to actually complete your projects. As They Were Specified."

"......mean. Yeeeeees, Boss."

Lucius looked at the nightlight again. Fenton dropped it on a nearby worktable. Grumbling he slunk back to his table with a bonelessness that no human could achieve. Every engineer in this room, was frankly? God damned TERRIBLE at pretending to be normal. Thank God this was Gotham and no one cared. Well, almost no one.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and didn't bother to stop the trainwreck about to happen. A muffled "FWUMPH!" followed by a half yell and crash sounded from his left. He and Jerrica looked down at a straightjaketed and slightly smoking Andrew in disappointment. There was a half burned pencil at his feet. He'd clearly tried to poke it.

"You work in Research and Development, Andrew. For God's sake. You KNOW better." Lucius felt compelled to say. "What on earth would possess you? For that matter, glowing eyes? That's every other Sunday and twice on Thursdays around here! This is Gotham! There's a good chance fear toxins are part of the rain cycle by this point, you ignore it! Even if it wasn't, you know damn well Meta discrimination is against both the law AND company policy. Do I have to take to HR?"

"I think he's unconscious." Muttered Jerrica lightly nudging her the downed man with her sensible pump.

"......from one little explosion? He works in R&D."

"Maybe it was stronger then expected? We could call Dr. Fenton back over? Or he could possible have an underlying medical condi-" Jerrica cut off, after pulling up the man's personel file in case they needed to call a member of the medical staff. At her boss concerned look, she winced. "......He's.. He's from Metropolis. I think someone hacked the files to get someone they could push around."

'Wait a god damned minute' Lucius thought, going over his General Menaces List. He forgot they weren't fully contained! 'Tucker J. Foley, you LITTLE SHIT.'

Short DPXDC Prompts #641

Lucius Fox recently employed some students who graduated from the Amity Park Community College. Little did he know this access to funding would cause their inventions to be borderline supervillain like in intention and design.

[stormanbates]

I've seen a lot of tumblr users that are on the spectrum put headcanons about Donnie being autistic on their blogs, so I decided to join in, since I have autism myself.

•Donnie is prone to headaches and the amount of tylenol he's taken in his lifetime is staggering.

•Sleep is difficult for him. Either he sleeps for 12 hours or he doesn't sleep for more than 2 hours a night. He's also a very heavy sleeper, and it takes forever to wake him up.

•Donnie is a picky eater. It's not taste, it's texture. For example: Potato chips=yes, mashed potatoes=eww. He can't stand food that's too smooth, or anything super spicy, but loves vinegary foods.

•Speaking of food, Donnie is more adventurous with new foods, as long as he knows what the ingredients are and cooking has helped with new foods.

•Donnie can memorize anything. He can watch a movie once, and memorize every line, even weeks later.

•Donnie often runs into walls because of lack of balance. He loves to spin around, though.

•Donnie won't even flinch if you break his arm, but will bawl like a baby if he gets a hangnail.

•Donnie loved baths as a kid, but hates showering as a teenager.

•His stims are: tapping his fingers on a table like he's playing the piano, clapping, raising his eyebrows, biting his lips, biting certain objects, standing on his tiptoes, darting his eyes all over the place, and bouncing while sitting.

•Donnie has issues with eye contact. His eyes will wander while you talk to him, but he assures that he's listening. To calm himself down while being lectured, he has to stare at Splinter's nose, rather than his eyes.

•As a tot, Donnie would hide under furniture, curl up, cover his ears and cry when his brother would get loud. Splinter had to drag him out and cuddle him to calm him down.

•Donnie also has anxiety, and often being overwhelmed makes the air around him seem like it's closing in on him.

•As a tot, he was sensitive to loud noises, bright lights and hates open spaces. As a teenager, he's only sensitive to loud noises.

•Donnie hates being touched, but will hug his brothers, April or his dad if he has to.

•Donnie is a huge crybaby, especially when he was a tot.

•Alone time is his best friend. Whenever he gets overwhelmed, he goes to his room to calm down.

•Donnie self soothes himself, but during missions, Leo has to be the one to calm him down.

•Donnie is extremely intelligent, but the stupidest things makes him laugh. He was reading medical journals at age 4, but videos of screaming frogs tickles his funny bone.

•Donnie has fidgeting toys and gets fixated on certain objects, protecting them and will get upset if anyone touches them.

•As a kid, he hated certain textures in clothing. He can, and will, strip naked if a tag itches or if a certain peice of clothing feels off.

•Donnie looked down often, trying not to step on any cracks, because he can feel it when they are not grooved. He can also feel certain colors, though it's hard to explain.

•Donnie has great hearing, he can hear conversations from across the lair, it scares his brothers.

•Donnie didn't speak as a kid, but is now a chatter box as a teen.

•Donnie made up a lot of imaginary friends, which is how he created SHELLDON.

•He enjoys ASMR and Mukbang videos, but can't stand listening to his family eat. His favorite catagory is soap cutting.

•Even though his other senses are heightened, he doesn't have the best sense of smell.

•Dee mimics people, not to make fun of others, but as a way to remember instructions.

•When pushed to far, Donnie will get aggressive, but then he cries when he's angry. Raph has to tell him to breath so he won't hyperventilate.

•Baby Mikey once got shoved by Donnie when he messed up his playing cards, to which Splinter immediately put him in his room to give him a time-out. Donnie felt it wasn't fair, but he learned to just keep his cards away from Mikey.

•Once old enough to read, Donnie read 3 grade levels above his age and could finish a book in a day. Reading was his escape.

•Leo, Raph and Mikey often felt like Donnie was a psychopath when they watched scary movies and he was the only one not scared.

•Being a first time father, Splinter often got flustered whenever his baby son was delayed while his other three were hitting milestones, such as eye contact, responding to their names, talking, or playing with certain toys.

•As a baby, Dee had acid reflux and Splinter spent many nights comforting a puky baby. Often Splinter would rush him to the bathroom to pat his son's back to get him to expel his stomach into the toilet.

•Donnie will info dump about a certain subject or he'll be silent for days.

•(Canon) Donnie can't sleep on his back, but will sleep on his stomach. It's because his shell is sensitive and he hates anything super soft.

•April has always been able to make Donnie feel better, which is why he's always with her.

[derelictlovefool]

• Dating Karl Heisenberg •

• Making you gifts out of scrap metal; metal flowers, small animal sculptures, a working music box, weapons, anything he can think of. He thinks about you all the time and one of the best ways he can show it is through these gifts, seeing the way your eyes light up everytime and the thankful kisses you give are little bonuses.

• Has a hand on you at all times, on your waist, on your arm, in your hand, just as long as he can feel you and has you close. It's an act of protectiveness but also possessiveness, you're his everything and if anything tried to hurt you or take you away from him he'd lose it.

• It's not like he himself needs protecting but he'll appreciate the gesture if you do act protective of him in any manner. He'll also get a little giddy if you act possessive over him, it's not only attractive but also very comforting knowing you want to keep him to yourself as much he wants to keep you all to himself.

• Petnames for days, uses every petname ever made for you (If there's any you don't like however he's excellent at cutting them out of his vocabulary immediately and never uses them). He falls back to buttercup, darlin' and angel a lot and if he finds one that really makes you tick he makes sure only to use it from time to time, doesn't want it to lose it's effect you know.

• Rare moments of vulnerability, when you're both wrapped up in each others arms late at night with nothing but the moon lighting up the room. He'll let your hands trace the scars on his body, share the painful memories that accompany them and cry against you as you comfort him. Likewise he'll trace any scar or blemish or insecurity you have and hold you close, comforting you with gentle words and soft kisses.

• A lot of teasing and loving bullying, he loves dishing it out and gets excited if you can dish it back. Playful insults, witty banter, nicknames that would make others think you hated each other, the whole shebang. Even when you're both half asleep and tangled together under the sheets, murmured good nights mixed with your favourite loving insults are a must.

• Him going absolutely feral if he saw you wearing a peice of his clothing, especially his coat. It riles him up and makes his chest swell, knowing when you walk around in it everyone will recognize it as his and therefore understand you were also his. Also him stealing your clothes because they smell like you and give him comfort (and a sly excuse to tell you if you want your clothes back you'll have to take them off of him yourself).

• Listening to him talk about his plan to take down Miranda for hours and him showing you any new designs/ideas for his soldiers. This is his life's work and as his partner your part of the whole thing, he wants a normal life with you away from all this but he needs to take down the bitch first.

• He will bite you, it's inevitable. He loves leaving marks all over you, hickies and bitemarks and scratches and anything else your comfortable with, he loves sinking his teeth into your shoulder and hearing you whimper and he loves seeing the bruised flesh the next day when you're sleeping soundly beside him. It's just one more way to tell others to back off of his lover.

• Having Lycans acting like your personal guard dogs because Karl is always worried about you and your safety. You get your own whistle for them but learn your lesson to not use it in front of Karl. The wicked grin that bloomed on his cheeks and raunchy remarks he made had left you flustered for a solid ten minutes.

• If you're a Lord yourself he'll visit your territory all the time, probably have a place of his own somewhere in it if you don't have a home he can bum in. He'll probably set up more security for your territory too, doesn't want anyone sneaking up on you after all.

• If you're not a Lord you're staying in his factory, of course you have autonomy and can go out if you really want but there's not much in the village to entertain you so you might find yourself staying by Karl's side most days.

• Kisses, every kind. Kiss to the temple when you're cuddling, kissing the back of your neck when he hugs you from behind, a kiss to your hand when he's being playful, kissing your neck when he's in the mood, kissing your shoulder when you're just sitting around. He will melt if you give any of these kisses to him and he will be chasing your lips with his own immediately.

• He's a walking heater, you will never be cold with him by your side. He's happy to have to lay across his chest to soak up every but of his body heat and he will always let you sneak under his jacket during the day, he'll take any excuse to have you cozying up to him.

• Learning how he says 'I love you' through his actions and certain phrases. He probably struggles with the actual words so it makes sense he says it other ways, be it memorizing all your favourite things and the way you like your drinks so he can make them/get them for you or calling you a certain nickname in a certain way that just tells you he's saying it without saying it.

• Watching him get flustered if you say 'I love you's, watching that transition to goofy smiles to confident grins and having your face peppered in kisses and playful nips. Will pretend he didn't hear you a few times just to hear you say it again and again, it makes his heart feel safe and light when you say it. Will get you some sappy soft moments he refuses to acknowledge later.

[darkh3llscap3]

hi!! i loooved your spencer Reid yandere hcs!! i was wondering if you could maybe do numbers 2&23 from the obsessive prompts with an innocent reader and a yandere bucky, loki, or peter (whichever you want!!)? tysm:)

Title: Not enough

Obsessive Prompt 2- "Listen baby, I'm doing this for your own good, So stay mad at me but at least your safe."

Obsessive Prompt 23- "I wanna be closer skin contact isn't enough anymore."

..........

Summary: You and Loki spend the day in bliss and it gets ruined casuing Loki to let his yandere side out more.

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, toxic relationship, mention of future violence, honestly a good amount of fluff.

General Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

I woke up from my blissful sleep Loki hanging onto me from behind. I turned around and faced him, he looked so peaceful. His hand started to trailed up my exposed thigh yet his eyes stayed close. He let his hand go all the way up to waist then he pushed me on top of him. My head went into the crook of his neck instantly.

We stayed like that for a while the sun peaking in through the curtain as his hands went onto my butt. I looked up at him he was already staring at me, when we made eye contact he smiled his white teeth poking out. I held onto his cheeks making his face pounty and kissed him. He leaned up to mold his lips against mine.

He sighed into the kiss one of his hands came up to put a peice of hair behind my ear so he could see me better. I smiled at looked at his messy black hair sprawled out on the cousion- My phone started ringing loudly on the bed side table ruining the moment.

He frowned as I reach for it I saw Nats name flash across the screen so I answered sitting up on my side of the bed.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver and I heard Natashas voice remind me that was were going to go to the mall today. I get up to change into something nice has I listen to her talk about her day. Once I'm finished changing she has finished so I hang up.

Loki is sitting on the bed with a unreadable expression on his face. "Are you okay, baby?" I asked to him he just stays seated I come closer and he jumps up hitting my back against the door. I look up at him in surprise.

"Your not going anywhere. We were having such a memorable time and you chose to leave me for her?!" I slid my hand against his face has he leaned closer to it out of instinct.

"I'm not going to be long and I didn't chose her. I love you and only you." He nodded as I nudged his away so I can open the door. A hand grabbed my shoulder as I open the door and slams it closed. I'm thrown on the bed as he locks the door and starts walking back and forth in thought.

I try to get up and run out but he's quick to catch me and throw me back. "What the he'll Loki let me out!" I scream at him with a fustrated tone.

"Listen baby I'm doing this for your own good. So, stay mad at me all you want but at least your safe and here with me." He was infront of me my face in his hands pretty much mimicking how my hands were this morning.

"I can't believe your doing this again I'm safe going out I can literally turn a pencil into a weapon while Nat was trained." I push against of him last time I tried to go out with Wanda and Nat to have a girls day and he kept me locked in for a week.

"Don't push me, I just want to hold you for an entire day is that too much to ask?" He yelled back has he pushed me down onto the bed and forced me on his chest. As he held me down like we were this morning. He shoved my head in the crook of his neck and signed like he was relaxed. After a few minutes he frowned and mumbled "I wanna be closer skin contact isn't enough anymore." I froze planning my next move carefully.

[dirksawesomesprites]

editing / fixing sprites + my headcanons

Part 3: Beta Highbloods

Equius Zahhak

he uses he/him and is a pansexual, aroflux , transmasc male. the ends of his hair is always damp from his sweat since his hair is neck length. he wears a binder because hes too scared to get top surgery (so me fr). he has to wash his binder like every few hours because it gets soaked with sweat (he has several chat dw and he binds safely :3). the paw on his tanktop is from nepeta, meow painted it on. his shorts are the same lengh as jakes, take that as you will. he and eridan go to shooting ranges together and do target practice. eridan lets him practice with his rifle, and he lets eridan practice with bow. matesprit is eridan and his moirail is nepeta. (TEAM SEAHORSE.)

Gamzee Makara

he uses he/they/honk (yes originial ik...) and is gay, hypersexual, and is ,in his words, "just a dude", but hes not. no one knows what his exact gender but neither does he. his clothes are stained with sopor and faygo. his horns are darker from how dark his hive his, the only lights in it are LED coloured ones and lights from screens. his eyes are more red than normal, from lack of light and the drugs, but they arnt as red as his sober eyes. he makes theory videos and posts them to his youtube channle. they mostly consist of him ranting about stuff thats not even related to the theory and eating sopor slime. once he started off talking about the mirthfull messiahs, and it turned into a cooking tutorial. they once got sopor slime pie stuck in their hair and karkat broke 2 brushes while getting it out for over 4 hours. they mostly go to karkats hive to hang out because of how messy theirs is, and leaves karkats hive a mess aswell. he mostly drinks the red faygo but lets just say uhhh it might not all be faygo that stained his shirt... his matesprit is karkat, his moirail is tavros, and he has a black crush on eridan

Eridan Ampora

with cape

without cape

march

(i loved remaking this because personaly i think all the amporas sprites SUCK... they had so much potential)

he uses he/she and is bisexual and transfem/genderfluid (bicon). he hangs out with cronus occasionally because cronus views him as a younger brother/sister because of his want to be human and human relationships. royal bloods are traditionally very tall, but she has a growth stunt to where she wont grow much more than she already is, cronus teases her about this. his "hang out place" is the trolls verison of the titanic wreckage, for his first attemt to swoon feferi he took her there on an unoffical "date". she rejected him there, because of that whenever he goes there all he can think about was what he did wrong with her. he also goes there to study his history textbooks, he pretty much has all the hisctory of its wreckage memorized (just like me fr...) she gives sollux peices of seaglasses she finds when cleaning up the beaches, because of this he has a shelf in his hive dedicated to this collection. he can play the pipe organ. each of her rings represents a failed relationship (emo ahh). his matesprit is equius, his moirail is karkat, and his kismesis is sollux.

Feferi Pexies

with cover up

without cover up

she uses she/it/glub pronouns (hi cana...) and is omnisexual with a female preferance. seadwellers fins are pretty senstive, so most keep their hair short, she keeps her hair long because shes in the water most of the time (so itll stay out of the way), but once upon land shell keep it up in a bun or something similar. it likes to take nepeta on trips to the pool or ocean even though meow is afraid of water. she always brings a big floaty for her so she can still be on the water with her without getting wet, but meow has been known to accidently pop the floaties on occasion... even though her matesprit dosnt like swimming or water in general she has offered to teach her how to swim, the offer is always politly declined though. whenever she finds nautilus fossils she always rushes to aradias hive to give it to her. her matesprit is nepeta,her moirail is aradia.

editing / fixing sprites + my headcanons

Part 1: Beta Lowbloods

Aradia Megdio

without bag

with bag

dead

she uses she/they and is demigirl and bisexual. her horns are covered in a layer of dust from scavaging for fossils and living in an underground hive. she wears a messanger bag that she uses to keep all of her fossile hunting materials and other things. she uses the fossils to decorate her hive and shes goth (original i know). her matesprit is sollux and her moirail is feferi.

Tavros Nitram

he uses he/him and is a cis guy (just is slightly feminine) he is mlm/gay. he loves fairycore and his favourite dog breed is a golden retriver (speficially the human version dave showed him, not alternian.) his robot legs will occasionslly malfcution, causing them to either get locked in place, squeak loudly, or get sticky joints. dave constantly has to call dirk over to fix his legs. his matesprit is dave, moirail is gamzee, and he has a black crush on gamzee (not very "black" though, mostly a "i can fix him" mentality but it ends up being "i can fix him but itll make me worse in the prossess) type stuff. its a pale leaning black thing.

Sollux Captor

he uses they/he/she and is bisexual and bigender (original i know but its kinda funny concidering my headmate with a sollux source is bisexual and bigender so im stealing that). hes emo and has a johnnie guilbert shrine in his hive he swears is ironic. he is colour blind (blue colour blindess specifically) so he sees voilet/purple as a ugly brown thats why he calls eridan ugly so much. he plays the synthesizer. hes double jointed and likes to gross his friends out with it. his shoes were orignially both white but he lost the second one but was too lazy to find it so he just wears the same brand shoe but different colours. theyre vans shoes. his matesprit is aradia , his moirail is dave , his kismesis is eridan , and his auspistice is karkat.

Karkat Vantas

he uses they/he, theyre nonbinary / transmasculine (has top scars and is technially transmasc but is also nonbinary i dont know if im saying this right) and is unlabeled for sexuality (they kiss guys but is unlabeled take with that what you will) they are punk even if they dont particualerly dress like it. their sweatpants are too big and their sweater is too small / tight so theyre a small gap of stomach showing. he purrs when happy, sleepy, or comfortable. when he gets scared their voice cracks and squeaks. when theyre alone listening to music in their hive hell jump around bouncing off stuff pretending to play the guitar and screaming / singing at the top of his lungs to the song. his matesprit is gamzee, his moirial is eridan, his kismesis is dave, and they aupistice for eridan and sollux.

Nepeta Lejion

she uses she/meow and is girlflux, catgender (original i know), grey romantic, and asexual. when she paints on her shipping wall she tends to get paint all over her and it has since stained her jacket. she has had her hat since she was very little and its very streched out and worn. same with her tail as its not part of her, it drags on the ground behind her and gets dirt, sticks and leaves caught in it most of the time. she likes to play the xylophone, read warrior cats, and play animal jam with equius. she purrs when she his happy / sleepy / comfy like karkat. her matesprit is feferi and her moirail is equius.

[mazzystar24]

The promised in depth Taylor swift analysis of malex:

This may have multiple parts

Edit: this is definitely having multiple parts I gave up midway

1. Renegade -Specific to Season 2-

Memorable lines in the song:

Are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these? -cmon season two finale who

And let all your damage damage me

Carry your baggage up my street and make me your future history

You wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

Is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together? So I can love you

Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything?Or do you just not want to?

There was nowhere for me to stay But I stayed anyway

You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself But do you know you're demolishing me?and then you squeeze my hand as I'm about to leave. ——-this line especially is accurate

And if I would’ve known how sharp the peices were you’d crumpled into I might’ve let them lay

Like you can’t tell me this song isn’t Alex’s perspective in season two like Michael pushing him away and him staying anyways And like the whole it isn’t their time thing??? RENEGADE AS FUCK

2. Come back be here -this is specific to the lost decade

Memorable lines:

“I told myself, don't get attached But in my mind, I play it back Spinning faster than the plane that took you”

“Delicate beginning rush”

“If I would’ve known what I know now I never would've played so nonchalant”

“Taxi cabs and busy streets That never bring you back to me I can't help but wish you took me with you”

“This is when the feeling sinks in I don't wanna miss you like this”

“Come back, be here”

“And I don't wanna need you this way”

“This is falling in love in the cruelest way This is falling for you and you are worlds away”

3. Tis the damn season - also lost decade or like early season one vibes if you wanna be really specific think of the morning Alex stayed

If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone I would have asked you

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

And the road not taken looks real good now and it always leads to you in my hometown

Time flies messy as the mud on your truck tires

Sleep in half the day just for old times sake and I won’t ask you to wait if you won’t ask me to stay

And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'

And the heart I know I’m breaking is my own to leave the warmest bed I’ve ever know

We could call it even even though I’m leaving and I’ll be yours for the weekend

4. The last time- lost decade and season one vibes yet again cos Taylor loves angst almost as much as the writers

Basically every Gary lightbody line is Alex’s pov and every Taylor swift line is Michael’s pov because the song flows sort of like a conversation between a malex vibed couple

I find myself at your door just like all those times before I’m not sure how I got there all roads they lead me here

You open your eyes into mine and everything feels better

And right before your eyes I’m breaking no past no reasons why just you and me

This is the last time I’m asking you this put my name at the top of your list this is the last time I’m asking you why you break my heart in the blink of an eye

You find yourself at my door just like all those times before you wear your best apology but I was there to watch you leave

All those times I let you in just for you to go again disappear when you come back everything is better

This is the last time you tell me I’ve got it wrong

This is the last time I say it’s been you all along

This is the last time I let you in my door

This is the last time I won’t hurt you anymore

5. This is me trying - this one is harder to break down because it fits both povs but isn’t as clearly broken up as the last time but mostly by verse

Alex lines:

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that

Could’ve followed my fears all the way down

Maybe I don’t quite know what to say but I’m here in your door way

Michael lines:

They told me all of my cages were mental so I got wasted like all my potential

and my words shoot to kill when I’m mad I have a lot of regrets about that

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere fell behind on my classmates, and I ended up here

Pouring out my heart to a stranger But I didn't pour the whiskey

Either:

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound it's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you you're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

6. Tears ricochet- Alex pov doesn’t fit perfectly but eh this is purely if you wanna turn the angst on season two dial to like 100

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe all the hell you gave me? 'cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'til my dying day

I can go anywhere I want anywhere I want just not home

You can aim for my heart go for blood but you will still miss me in your bones

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves you had to kill me but it killed you just the same

cursing my name wishing I’d stayed

And you’re tossing out blame drunk on this pain crossing out the good years

AND MY HANDS ARE HURTING SO PART TWO IS IMMINENT

[wisp-of-thought]

l o v e l a n g u a g e

language: the principal method of human communication or

a systematic means of communicating ideas or feelings by the use of conventionalized signs, sounds, gestures, or marks having understood meanings

~

93% of communication is non-verbal. and i tried to learn a new language for you.

it was not an easy one. there were no textbooks, or online review tests, or vocabulary sheets. there was only my hastily scrawled notes trying to understand. there was only me, practicing my pronunciation in the mirror, watching my mouth form around unfamiliar vowels, my hands trying to learn how to hold the consonants so you might be able to better understand my accent. there was only you, trying to teach me a language that had never been transcribed.

you lend me one of your earbuds on the bus and play a song i cannot understand because there are just chords. just brushstrokes of sound. just melody threading notes together. the music is trying to say something. but you are trying to say something too by giving me this rythem. i cannot understand. but i listen anyways. and these are the ways in which i try to learn. you memorize my coffee order but forget my birthday. you never say you miss me but you look back twice exactly when we part every time. your eyes are always closed when we touch. i do not understand what these things say, or what you are trying to tell me but i listen anyways. and these are the ways in which i try to learn.

once, we don't speak for too long and the first night you spend in my bed again, i ask you, before i turn the light off, what it means. you don't look at me. you say you don't know. so i flick off the light switch and curl around myself under the covers. your hands find my hair, find my waist, find the soft skin of a scar, find the place where the flesh is thinnest between the world and my heart. i ask you what that means. you say it means, "you still have me." and so i kiss every one of your finger tips and in this way i respond, "i am glad." i let my legs tangle with yours under the blankets and in this way i say, "you still have me, too." in this moment you have not learnt my language yet either. but we are both learning. and some things are hard to misinterpret.

you take me to the movies to watch the same film for the second time. i do not understand what this is trying to say or what you are trying to tell me but i listen anyways. on the drive home, we take the leftover silence of the theatre with us, and i ask you what you meant when you did this. you are still picking the quiet out from your teeth with your tounge and so i say, "in my language, this means, 'i would choose the silence over your voice.' in my language this means 'you are only worth the past, over again. there is no moving forward, only backwards. until we fall into the oblivion from which we came'. " you pull off the road. you shake your head. say, "in my language, this means, 'the quiet is hard sometimes but never with you.' in my language, this means 'i think we have time enough to reread stories twice'. this means, 'you are the familar and for this i am grateful'. this means, 'i do not need adventure to stay'. that I am content to sit with you and the dark and devour a peice of the world together."

and so i come to learn that your leg slipping over my hip when i am just on the cusp of sleep means: i forgive you. learn that a sandwich found in the fridge made the night before for me to take to work means: im sorry. learn that the hour long shower means: not now. learn the bitting of the nails means: now. now, please. i learn the sunday morning pancakes mean: i love you. but so do the forehead kisses and the 1:30 am texts about tomorrow and the you telling me about your day. i learn the offer to fix my car means "let me be something for you, please." i learn 2 dirty mugs in the sink mean a bad day unless one of them is the red one and it's thursday, because then that just means working late, and in this way i learn about the context of a phrase.

you learn things too. pick them up slowly. through daily conversation. murmmer things in passing. nonchalant and nervous. i don't correct you. i just smile. because I know what you are trying to say.

i wince sometimes at the misused vocab and poorly built sentences that crumble quickly, but i do not offer to teach you until you ask. because i know for certain what you are saying then. saying:

i want to know how to speak to you in the language you feel most at home in.

i want to be able to know you in the words there are no direct translations for.

i want to be able to find you in the dialect you retreat to when the day has gone on too long.

you are saying:

i want to be able interpt everything you think there are no words in my language to say, and so you don't say them.

i want you to be able to tell me everything

you are telling me:

i want you to know that i want to try and talk to you even when it is hard.

you offer to walk with me in the fall afternoon even though you hate the crunch of the leaves that you say sounds too much like endings and i ask you if this offer means "i love you" or "i don't want to be alone right now" and you are looking away from me when you explain that sometimes things can have more than one meaning.

i tackle you half screaming half laughing when you buy us the concert tickets for my birthday and you ask me if this means "thank you" or "i love you" and i am smiling when i explain sometimes things can have more than one meaning.

i come home late to find you sobbing on the bathroom floor and i hold you for hours. i show you videos of baby's laughing until the tears subside long enough for you to kiss me with salt sorrow stained lips and i ask against your mouth if this means "thank you" or "i love you" and you whisper of how different things can have the same meaning and in this way i learn of synonyms.

sometimes the learning of a new language is difficult.

is frustrating.

is silences that scream two things in dissonance.

for the hardest things to define are the absences.

for there are a million subtle ways the pronunciation of quiet differs depending on what you are trying to convey.

sometimes learning a new language is

mistakes.

is misunderstandings.

is apologies

for violating customs

and muddling unfamiliar proverbs.

i'm sorry,

this is not my native tounge.

but i am trying.

i am learning.

if you are willing to teach me.

sometimes a new language is something we become fluent it. the bilingualism comes easy. it rolls off our tounge like second nature. you realize now there are new ways to love in this language. but there are also new ways the hurt. and new ways to heal. and new ways to apologize. you realize there are new ways to know someone when they are not afraid to be misheard.

sometimes a new language is a patchwork quilt of simple words and poorly stitched grammer. sometimes i pull out a few words at the restaurant to impress you. you smile less at the phrase, more at the gesture. sometimes i stumble over the words and you help me up, help me along the sentence, because you know it means the world to me to try for you.

sometimes all we can do is learn to understand. the words never come out right so we stop trying. but we listen. we nod. we laugh. we hold them at all the right parts of the story.

sometimes the greatest gift you can give someone is to understand

what they are trying to say.

when she makes paper flowers and sends me photos of them. i know she is trying to tell me: "look. i got out of bed today and created something beautiful. i thought of you in the slow process of the cultivation of this miracle." and i don't know how to reply. not in her language atleast. and so i don't. but i know what she means.

sometimes it is enough to understand someone.

sometimes it isn't.

sometimes a new language is not for us. we tell ourselves we are too old to pick it up. we tell ourselves it is too difficult. too forgien. too complicated. we try for the sake of saying we tried. but we don't.

in the end, we know how to say hello and goodbye and thank you and a handful of curse words. sometimes we know how to say i love you. in the formal tounge. with textbook pronouns and rigid verbs.

sometimes learning a language is

things lost in translation

is

how was I supposed to know what that meant?

is

why didn't you just tell me?

is

i didn't know how.

is

being too tired to roll your r's and remember the right tense.

sometimes learning a language is screaming everything you cannot translate at the language barrier between you. hoping they understand. hoping they don't.

but there is something unmatched about being welcomed home in your mother tounge.

something about being forgiven in words you could never misinterpret.

about being called to bed by the familar.

t h e r e i s s o m e t h i n g u n p a r a l l e l e d a b o u t b e i n g l o v e d i n

y o u r o w n l a n g u a g e.

[genshin-obsessed]

I dread everything about school, sure, I got some friends. But that doesn't help ease the pain of having a mental breakdown the night before school starts.

I've given up trying to ask my mom or dad if I could get a day off, my mom wouldn't allow me since my dad won't let me. My dad has said he only cares about my education, so I don't see the point in trying anymore.

I envy people who have a mental break day where they can skip school/work. Even in the weekend I can't get rest without thinking about tomorrow. I had a breakdown last week and ended up being yelled at by my dad. Now I really don't think he cares about me besides getting an education.

I already plan on getting an actual job, started a business, how much longer do I have to suffer before I can just get a day off? Or when will I ever be good enough for him?? I'm trying to do things that make me useable enough for society, even though my grades are fucking failing and I can't stop lashing out on things.

These things don't matter anyway, he'll just end up telling me again "and I don't want to go to work" then WHY THE FUCK DID YOU GET THAT JOB?? fucking peice of shit, he doesn't care about my mental health unless it makes me unable to be a working citizen and get an education.

I'm so fucking tired, I'm trying to keep everything in, but I'm so afraid. I'm so afraid that something will happen that I can't control. I don't want to hurt someone again, but I don't know how much longer I can keep it all in.

I just have to suck it all up, going to school like nothing happened, again. My suicidal thoughts have started to come back, my anxiety has been worse and worse, and I feel like relapsing again.

The only reason I don't self-harm anymore is so I don't get put into a mental hospital again. But if I end up not keeping all these urges and thoughts away then I'll just end up in the mental hospital or worse, an actual prison. The mental hospital felt like a prison anyway, which is why I'm scared to tell any teacher or adult at my school.

It's also 1am, and I shouldn't be bothering anyone with this. I can't bother my sister, she has to get enough sleep to go to work, and with how much little time I get with her now, it's just like when she was in college and i had nobody. My parents are useless in this situation, because my mom would just get yelled at by my dad for suggesting me staying home. And talking to her feels so.. uncomfortable. My dad is just a no. There is no talk about my mental health, if I'm feeling sad, I'll just have to deal with it.

I'm stuck, I don't know how much longer this will last, but probably for a couple more years.

I wish I could easily take my life away, there is hardly anything I want in life anymore.

Just a note before I start: I made a new tag for anyone to block because I’m gonna allow more serious topics with it. I’ll go with the regular tw tags as well, but this one is just one big tag: 🐚— vent

Right, onto you anon. I wanna start by saying I am so, so sorry you’re going through this. I understand, my mother was extremely hard on me in school. She rarely let me take breaks off of school and kept his idea that I had to attend almost every day to be a good student and to have a good education.

Even in college, both of my parents are pretty hard on me to take “good classes” and not “waste” my time. I don’t think many parents understand the stresses of school and it makes it hard for them to understand how terrible those days can be.

The school system is all messed up. Learning subjects that most of us won’t use- unless you’re choose a job in that particular field- teachers pile on too much homework, everything is just memorization at this point, and it gives us little time to relax. The way some teachers even assign homework makes it hard for us to even relax on weekends, which is why we have them. You really only have summer and even then, some parents force their children into extra activities then.

You feelings are valid. 100%. You’re allowed to feel exhausted, especially when you’re not getting any breaks. Getting through high school is the probably the only thing that’s really required for most jobs. But having a college degree doesn’t mean you’ll be rolling in money. It just means you can have a more secure job but by no means guarantees success. Parents don’t realize that.

For you, especially, it’s all building up. I’m sure you already know this to. Holding it in 100% won’t help. The stress also seems to be affecting your school work and it’s making it harder to pass classes which just leads your parents to lash out. It’s a vicious cycle that just doesn’t stop. And the only way to really stop such a thing is to take a step back, but you’re not even allowed to do that.

I think the attempt to please your dad’s ideals is also adding stress. You want to be good enough, and that’s understandable, but sometimes parents project what they couldn’t do onto us. Sometimes, it’s never enough because at the end of the day, they’re not the ones who could accomplish that. I’m sorry to say that and I hope it doesn’t upset you further, but maybe you should try doing this for yourself and not him. Some parents will never be happy- as sad as it is to say that.

I’m glad you don’t self harm, and I’m really proud of you for breaking away from that. Yes, it may just be to stay away from the mental hospital, but I’m still happy you’re staying away from it. Although, I would recommend talking to someone about this, other than me of course, because I can’t do much for you, unfortunately. I can only listen and offer a bit of advice.

Though you don’t want to stress out your sister, it seems like she may be the only one you can kind of trust. Maybe if you’re of age, you could try talking to a therapist or meeting with a school counselor/therapist. They may be able to actively help you, maybe even working with some of your teachers to lessen the workload. Either way, they’ll be more helpful than me.

I want you to know you’re doing an amazing job though. You’re still going after all of this and I know it seems bad, but I know it’ll get better. I know this isn’t much, but I’m very proud of your resilience.

If anything, when you’re on your own and in college, you can 100% take a break and you’ll definitely deserve it. But I do want you to try and talk to somebody you find you can trust. Or try to reach out for help, because something like this can’t be done alone.

There is one thing I think you want and that’s to be free from all of this. School, your parents, the exhaustion, the stress, and so that can be your goal. Though these days will show up often, maybe the idea of being free from all of this while still being able to live a happy life can be that push you need. I’m not sure if you’re able to move away for college, but I would recommend you do that. It’s a little difficult to be on your own, but you’ll get to choose how you live.

I know my response was kinda all over the place, but I really hope it helped anon💖💖 you’re always welcome to come here and talk to me if you’d like. Maybe about school, homework, just to vent, or chat! I would like to hear how you’re doing too 🥺💖

[rise-my-angel]

#'Jon yelling at the top of his lungs far too early in the morning that he was The Young Dragon.’ HAD ME LAUGHING#bc i KNOW jon had ned stressing every god damn time he yelled that

Ned Stark is waking up from another trauma ptsd nightmare about his dying sister only to immediately hear a 6 year old Jon outside screaming that, and he just starts writing a letter to Howland like "I swear to the gods I'm gonna throw myself down a well one of these days."

Howland just writes back like "lmao is he still in his dragon phase 😎"

And Neds like in all captial letters "THATS NOT FUNNY HOWLAND"

#also just that little moment between jon and reader at the end#having time to just be#return back to the little semblance of normalcy they knew growing up#with the sparring session#was very cute#until horn dog jon made an appearance#and then it was PHEW 😮‍💨

Jons entire existence is him internally telling himself not to let it turn sexual, but failing constantly because hes a fucking animal. Also part of it, is that he's had a lifetime of only being able to express his feelings in such careful, or mostly platonic ways that now he has the freedom otherwise, its difficult for him to not let that other side he always wanted with you, to not take over.

Sparring with you used to be fun, now he just sees how quick and how much you've learned from him over the years and just lets his caveman brain start controlling him. Turning pride into raw lust.

Jon has just a constant battle between: wants to spend time with you vs secretly has the sex drive of a fucking maniac

#also this fic is dangerous for someone with father and mother issues PHEW the way i always tear up whenever reader and her parents#have those good moments#growing up watching the show i was always indifferent to the baratheons#most of my opinions forming thru robert’s character#but this series has made me love the baratheons so much

I was the same way when I first got into this series, both books and show. I really liked the complexity of show Robert but I didn't quite pay attention otherwise. Until years later I did a reread and re watch and I realized how much the Baratheon family in general are so complex. Baratheon readers or Baratheon ocs are always Roberts child, but that didn't sound as interesting to explore to me. (Read more cus I accidentally went on my usual pro Baratheon propaganda rants, targ stans turn back here i say nice things about Robert)

Robert is actually one of my favorite season 1 characters don't get me wrong, some of his best scenes are entierly show only to the degree it elevated him from a book character of kind of just a piece of shit, to a man who let himself become a peice of shit and he tragically knows how far he let himself fall. He still has some of the best scenes and most memorable quotes: "One army, a real army. United behind one leader, with one purpose." Or "He came running at me. This dumb highborn lad. Thinking he could end the rebellion with a single swing of his sword."

Show Stannis is a lot more blunt and dry then even in the books but it works so well in contrast to Robert and Renly (who is actually pretty much spot on to his book version). You see his conflict of belief and he takes his duty seriously without pride and he understands his misdeeds do not make him a good person. One of my favorite lines is what he says to Ser Davos the episode before Renly is killed. "A good deed does not wash out the bad. Nor a bad, the good."

Or after he looses at the Blackwater, you see a really human moment where he comes to terms with what hes done, looking horrified at himself hissing in distress that he killed his brother. The show did not do Stannis justice because the show runners were not comfortable with his character, but I really think the changes made to him could have worked if I just re contexalized his justifications.

Show Stannis is fascinating because, much like Jon, a lot of his complex characterization can be found in his physicality and non verbal expressions. He doesn't talk a lot, so if you don't pay close attention then its hard to see why he is so interesting. He's a lot like Ned Stark in a way, but because Ned was also charming where Stannis isn't, he tends to get overlooked.

Same with Selyse. Now I've mixed book Selyse with show Selyse. Since in the books, Selyse does not dislike Shireen. Shireen is actually the thing which really keeps their marriage from falling apart because they both love their daughter. But Selyse in the show is sort of an under appreciated character. Show Selyse clearly wishes she and Stannis loved eachother and she tries more then her book counterpart.

Baratheon readers/ocs are just never Stannis and Selyse's because they are not easy to write and characterize properly. But I wanted people to see the sides of the Baratheons that I did, so I'm glad I've been able to show them in a different light then you may previously have thought of them in.

Jxhdhd

Ddd

Heart of the Great Wolf

29 - Shrouded Truth in Sickness

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 14k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past child illness and death, mild mentions of violence, mild disturbing imagery, smut, p in v, light sexual descriptions

Notes: Jon is in fact not wearing a fur cloak in any of these scenes, unlike the show. As Dragonstone is very far South and is in fact, way too warm and humid for fur, Now, none of that matters, but it's important to me that you know that. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

For all that you had been doing, you could hardly remember much of what was said as you all sat around the painted table. Much of the Royal Fleet was typically at Dragonstone as it was far more advantageous then from King’s Landing, so for much of the fourteen years Robert had been King thus had allowed your father to serve his duty from home. On one hand it meant you stood watching him leave harbour for war so shortly since your return home. Yet, it also had meant only two short months later, you stood in the exact same spot watching him return. 

High on the black stones down to the shores you had stood high up, holding Shireen up right by your cheek and waving her tiny arm at the ships coming home. She had finally been old enough you could take her on simple walks around the castle grounds telling her stories the whole while of father. Your mother had said she would not be able to understand you, but you cared little. Always bright and animated as you spoke to her she was always engaged with what you said even as she neared three months. 

You perhaps had gotten used to how to talk to young infant girls like so from the last number of trips you had made to Winterfell. The first return you made was when you had met Lord and Lady Stark’s first daughter. A bright hair of Tully red, even moreso then Lady Catelyn herself, Maester Luwin had jested that little Sansa must have strong Tully in her blood more then Robb. She was a well behaved girl, quiet if not a bit fussy at times but you were quick to play big sister with her at that very young age. 

Arya was more of the one however, that prepared you in the end.

Mischievous and loud, always looking for something to do, or someone to play with her and she had latched onto you quite quickly. By the time you had returned home some months ago, your mother was about ready to birth Shireen. Shortly after she came into this world, father left for war so you had spent two months doing everything you could do ensure she didn’t feel neglected. She even at so young, had a babbling energy about her that clearly little Arya had prepared you to handle. 

So when father returned, it felt odd to suddenly be pulled back from spending time with her as he insisted on keeping you focused on your lessons. It was one night such as those where your father had his men all meeting around the painted table, your mother still recovering from giving birth and thus Shireen was left under the watch of her Septa. You were up with your father, sitting only a few chairs down from him with paper and ink in front of you. 

You had one easy task, or at least, one task with a simple rule. Everything spoken in that meeting, you were to write and translate, and it would be checked to make sure you had not let your time North let you forget all of your language lessons. Whatever they had been talking about, you scarcely recalled however. 

Reaching for the ink once more, your hand had hovered in place over it. In fact, all of you seemed to have stopped. Your Uncle Alester had later said that it looked almost as if you had accidentally caught sight of the candle lit flames situated near the empty middle of the painted table and had no longer had the ability to look away. The reflection in your eyes was tense, and you seemed not to have realized you were not paying any attention or moving. 

Only when he had called your name did it pull you out of it. But as if having no awareness of where you had been, your hand dropped and thus knocked the small glass bottle of ink all over. Some spilling onto the wooden writing desk sat on your lap, the bottle crashed down with a smash all across the floor and spilling more ink onto there and most it had made it’s way all over the front of your dress. 

The sudden onslaught of sensations had startled you greatly, causing you to jump from your seat with a gasp and all eyes flew over to you with various stays of confusion as to your outburst. But all you could do, was stammer. Looking at your father with no explanation as to what happened, but he had simply dismissed you, that he would look over what you had done up to that point tomorrow. 

The walk back to the corridors where your room and now Shireens room sat was frustrating. You uselessly wiped at the ink now ruined the dress on you with no understanding of what really happened between you in the middle of correcting a word you translated incorrectly to flying back as you had sent the bottle of ink all over you and the floor. 

All you did was reach your hand up, and your eyes caught glance of the flickering flames of the candles in the middle of the table and it was enough to take your mind away. Had that been all of it, you might have recalled looking into the flames and seeing strange images flying through it and painting across your eyes as they transfixed you to them. Until your uncle had called your name did it coincide with another calling your name that you, at the time, didn’t recognize, and it forced you back to the room you sat in. 

But, it wasn’t the only thing to happen that night, and thus it was forgotten for a while.

Passing through the corridors, you could feel the damp, stuffy air even from the distance and huffed in annoyance. You walked a bit further, peeking enough into Shireen’s room so that you could both see your Septa, but not enough she could see your dress and lecture you. “My father says I am to watch Shireen for the remainder of the night, that you need not return until mid morning.” Her brows narrowed as she looked up from the cross stitching she had been working on, calling your name in sternness.

Before she could say anything more though, you disappeared beyond the corner shouting, “Please leave her door open, I will only be a moment.” You heard her sigh and grumble but as you hid somewhat behind your heavy door you could tell she had left. Giving you the chance to peel off the ruined dress before she could see, changing into something much more simple but warmer. 

Only some minutes later and you made your way into her room. Shireen looked asleep when you had poked your head in, but it seemed the sound of your voice pulled her awake. Her infant’s bed with wooden pulls just enough that she could slumber without falling, you pulled the front and sides all the way down as she blinked awake more with a babbling on her lips. 

Standing up you moved to the largest window which had the ability to open, to the edge of the room, which Septa Moelle had closed. Annoyed you shook your head as you spoke to your sister in a dramatic manner, “Oh it is far too cold child, I will freeze to death before the night is even up.” Dropping to a more normal tone, “Honestly Shireen, you’d think she grew up in Dorne how much she complains of such cold. This is nothing,” your head turning to glance at her now sitting up more to watch you, “Wait until you come North with me in some years, now that is what cold truly is.” 

The cool breeze filtered in with a nice rush over your exposed skin that alleviated the damp air around the castle. Glancing to her once more, she seemed content as every to just have you speak at her. Unlike your mothers insistence, Maester Cressen said that as long as you speak to an infant, it helps them learn language faster. So it was alright she would not properly understand you for some time. 

“Now, which story should we read tonight? If you have any suggestions, speak up.” Turning back you ran your hands over a pile of books you had brought in to her room. Ones you did not care to read or keep for yourself anymore, however you thought she may was well see for herself if she found any interest in dragons and wars long passed.

So you begun to read the stories to her, spending many nights you sat crossed legged on her or your bed, with her propped up comfortably in your lap with a book open before both of you. You would read carefully out loud, pointing to each sentence you read as her bright green eyes followed intently. 

Voice morphing into low and high pitches of differing theatrics when you would go over something whimsical happening, gasping and pointing to drawings attached and helping guide her tiny hand to where you were pointing. Sometimes repeating certain words until she babbled out more nonsense before pressing a kiss to her cheek until she giggled. 

Four times now your mother had lost one of your brothers, and now The Mother had finally heard your prayers and hers and granted a child. A sister, and you were taking full advantage of what you were beginning to think you’d never have. 

Biting your lip in thought, your nails tapped against the cover of one book about The Young Dragon in consideration, when you heard a simple thud. Turning back, you saw a small doll laying flat on the ground and a little Shireen giggling along. Shaking your head, you left the books behind, walking over to her bed.

Kneeling down you recognized the doll was a brand new one father had bought from a merchant when he returned home. The dress had been hand painted to match that of the house colours even, and she clearly adored it. For the most part. 

Picking it up you placed it back on the bed, only to watch her toss it again with a smile. This time your eyebrows shot up as your mouth opened in a playful audacity. “Are we playing a game or are you just being a pest, Shireen?” Like you were a dog you fetched the doll once more, holding it in your hand up above her with a grin as you waved it from her reaching arms. “Only if you don’t throw it again.” 

This time she sat it down back on the soft bed as you took most of her attention instead as you sighed out, “Was I this much of a brat when I was your age? If so I see why father has so many grey’s already, you’ve been in this world but three months and I already feel as ancient as Maester Cressen.” You looked at her now more close up, and something made you narrow your eyes. 

It was hard to see in the low light, and Shireen only wanted to reach for you when you tried to reach in and check. Laughing you pulled back from her grabbing hands, “Hold on, silly girl, hold on.” Getting up you walked to the other side of the room to grab a lantern sat on a small table, walking over and hanging it properly up on the wall to the side of her bed. 

In the direct firelight now you sat back down facing her, reaching to gently tilt her face to the side as you tried to see what had gotten on her. “Does our Septa pay no attention, what did you get into in your nap that looks...” 

It was something unpleasant filling your veins as your voice faded out, eyes narrowing with a sharpness as you leaned in, keeping her close. It wasn’t something you grasped right away, until your hand let go of her cheek. Glancing down to the brand new doll now sitting abandoned at the side of her, you flickered your eyes back up to the mark. 

It was small almost like a tiny cut, but when you leaned in more reaching to turn her head even more so you could see, you realized that it wasn’t a cut that was on her cheek. It was a crack. A crack that sat with dry and almost flaking skin just slightly around it. In the uncomfortable pit forming in your stomach, you realized that it looked partially by the crack to be a mottled black, but the dry skin around it didn’t match the rest of her either. It almost looked-

The second you realized what colour the small patch of skin looked like, you had filled with such a sudden dreading fear that you were swooped with a painful dizziness, your hand dropping from her face in an instant. Not two seconds passed as you realized it, did your eyes and mouth widened in a horrored gasp, and you had turned and ran out of her room and down the corridor faster then you’d ever had run in your life.

Voice so loud that every man in the room around the painted table could hear you screaming in a desperate panic for your father, before you even could ascend the steps of the Stone Drum Tower. 

It had been a long time since you had a single solitary use for knowing it. The worst you could think of was that you had translated it entirely wrong and were worried for nothing, but few on this island knew how to read it. As far as you were aware, it would only be three and you certainly weren't going to bring it to the third it was for until you already knew without a doubt what it said.

The morning rained harsh over Dragonstone, and as you leaned your palms against the painted table you had to tune it all out in order to focus. You read and reread it so many times you couldn't be sure it even spoke words anymore. Maester Pylos had brought it to you, but you had looked at him with something held back as you told him to have someone fetch your father up to meet you, alone. 

Without any other word you simply had handed it to Stannis, “I need to make sure this says what I'm seeing before we do anything else.” A twist in his face your father had taken the raven scroll from you, and the translation was exactly as you feared. “You are certain?” 

Stannis looked it over again as sharp eyed as yourself. “You surpassed my skill a long time ago, if what you translated is correct then that would be more assured then my own.” 

One hand was draped across your stomach while the other let your elbow rest on your forearm and dig your nails into your bottom lip. You did not like the unease in his own gaze, turning to your father as an unsettled feeling rippled from your veins out and flowed equally through his as he continued. This if true, was something else entirely. “The last I had known of where they were, a spy of Lord Varys had reported her and her brother in Pentos.”

Shaking your head, you inhaled deeply as you stood straighter. “Apparently, she had been there to marry some Dothraki Horse Lord, last I knew of her Robert had ordered her and Viserys killed and his spy turned on him the last moment. Haven't known where she was or doing after that, I don't even know where she would have gotten..I thought all the eggs were gone.”

You could see the enormity of the skull in the underground halls of King’s Landing, and how much stories of Aegon’s Conquest were written in the worst severity known of fire and blood. Was this why he demanded Jon do the same as once done by Torrhen Stark? Bend the knee or be destroyed? 

“Evidently not. After Summerhall proved failure, it would take a lot of power to bring three to life as she clearly has. Who did this arrive for?” Gesturing to the raven scroll, but as your head tilted somewhat to the side with a narrowing look in your eye, the answer was already spoken as much. “It seems Aegon is keeping a few secrets of his own.”

The rain poured so loudly behind you, as if trying to wash out the fire already burning in your memory that flashed so green it felt as it it blinded you. You did that with nothing but wildfire, what would three flying beasts of their full potential do this time? Your voice was quiet, “You said he claimed he was the last of his family, obviously he knew about her so why lie? Why lie to us?”

His guess was as good as yours, “Garner sympathy, perhaps. Much of our family and the Starks are gone, meaning he may have presumed a plea of similar circumstances would soften our choices.” You turned around, knowing your father could see the tensity in your shoulders as you walked to the edge of the room, hands braced on the stone looking out to the rain splashing against the sea. Moments later, sensing your father approaching all the same matching the position. “We need to know what the boy knows. If he intends on bringing them to Westeros, we will need to be as prepared for it as we are for the far North.”

A squire sent out to bring Aegon up to both of you, keeping for now things all tucked away between the only ones who could even read the language sent of the writing. Speaking low, your eyes never peeled from the sea. “Why Ser Axell?” There was a small noise in his throat, the only indication of a question to elaborate. “Maester Pylos told me about the ceremony on the beach, you burned Ser Axell and two others that day.” 

Neither looked at the other, but your postures matched just as the held back coldness in your faces, his voice as controlled and tight as yours. “He was an infidel. I ordered him to tear down his idols and he disobeyed.” Your throat swallowing as you tried and failed to sense any emotion in the tone, and you couldn't help but notice that it wasn't calm dedication you sensed. 

Turning not enough to face him, but so that your voice carried just well enough to hear your muttering towards him. “He was my uncle. He was your brother by law, if you needed reminding.”

There was the tone, only, it emerged from Stannis just on the air of light enough, it made your mouth part as you twisted in something close to frustratedly amused. “If we are speaking in those terms, I could remind you that by way of your late husband, Jon Snow is your brother by law.” 

You could sense his eyes flicker to you just the slightest. Your eyes narrowing as your jaw clenched with almost a shake of your head. Whispering as your nails tapped against the stone, “Look at you, still having a sense of humour.” 

Leaning more of his forearms against the stone, you did as well. His voice low and in what only you could pick up was a slight mocking. “An ironic thing to say when it's coming from you.” That time you did turn to properly look at him with a furrowed brow. “You have many strengths, but humour is not one of them.” 

Matching his stance, you smirked half heartedly now both Baratheons watching the water. You chuckled just a bit, and so did he.

Your voice however, dropped back once more. “Everything got worse once I was dead, didn't it? This, my mother, the red woman. I don't know if I can say it only is coincidence all of this fanaticism got much worse after you all thought I was gone.” Stannis nodded, as your head dropped. Lungs tightening you tried to push out the thought that no one was responsible for your own families continued demise but each other. Maybe you were all destined to become this way. 

“I've never asked you to believe as me and your mother do. She took to it more, a true believer your mother is. Even now, she takes is to her heart and no matter what you dislike about it, it is something I see in too.” Your hand reached up, fiddling with what you had begun to think of as Shireen's necklace, for just a moment to keep your eyes dry. “But losing you, and realizing I could have done something to help prevent it and didn't? Your mother and I hadn't known we were to have a grandson until you were already dead. So yes, in our grief, in my guilt we let ourselves believe in it stronger then we should have allowed. That I should have allowed.” 

Unlike her necklace, you didn't reach down to run over where your scar was under your dress. You didn't want to once more feel it sink into you and twist as it had too many days since.

He continued quiet, your eyes both now on the sea of your home, and nothing but a heavy weight sat between you that hadn't been allowed to sit for a long time. If ever. “I almost lost you once, and then I actually did. All the same with Shireen. I can't change that, all I can do is work to be better then I am. Better then I was. I couldn't protect my daughters when it mattered most, and I will never have a bigger failure as my duty of a father then that.” 

It was quiet between you, looking out to the rain as it slightly blew now to mist gently over your hair when you thought of it. That you desperately hoped that in his final moments, Eddard Stark did not feel as if he failed his daughters. No matter where they were now, alive or dead, at least your father was alive to see it get better. 

But hearing the strain in your fathers voice even as he leaned just like you against the stone edge with a calm disposition, you dared not think of how it would have felt for Ned to die with that kind of guilt. 

By the time he arrived in the room, both you and your father had moved onto opposite sides of the table. The rain still pouring as Aegon closed the heavy door behind him, looking between you both with  a distrusting glare. Stannis gesturing towards the raven now sat by the edge of the table where the blue haired dragon had come in with a much more lack of patience in his tone then he had with you. “You speak High Valyrian, I presume. What do you make of that?” 

Both of you watched with close eyes as he read it over, but there were few which could hide their surprise, or shock, as well as they thought they could from both Baratheons. Glancing up slowly as his grip tightened on it, you wondered just how much of this information he might not have known in so much detail. If the unnerved silence matching his clenched jaw, spoke of. 

His voice was as controlled as any. “I presume neither of you brought me up here hoping I could translate this for you.” Your eyes were cold and without a single blink as they found his blues. “You already know what this translates as, what do you want me to say?”

Your voice came out as sharp and hissing as was the look in your eyes, hands perched on a chair in front of you. “We want you to tell us what exactly you know. About her, about them,” Your head gesturing to the raven he still held. “You do not get to stand there and pretend as if we do not all know what kind of a threat this could be. Your blood ties to that family does not excuse you from hiding something as important as this from people.” 

Glaring at you, he ran a hand over his face. Pacing to the side as you and Stannis both watched before he put the raven scroll back on the painted table. If whatever lie he was about to conjure up was confident, your fathers stern tone to almost shout over the rain took every chance of that away. “You came to us pleading for peace only days ago, that you are the last of your family and yet now we know for a fact that across the Narrow Seas, Daenerys Targaryean has living dragons. How about you start with why you lied, considering the King in the North and myself did nothing but lay out nothing but our true intentions to you.” 

Three monarchs were alone in the darkness of the room of the painted table, but for once it was the Targaryean heir which held not a single ally to look to. It took him a good while to find such words, and it had him on edge as neither you nor Stannis moved an inch waiting for him to speak. Glancing up between you both he sighed, then paced as he spoke instead. “I'm supposed to marry her, Daenerys.” 

If Aegon had noticed the brief glance as you and Stannis shared a twisting grimace he didn't mention it. At least you knew your father well enough that his comment about Jon was a joke. 

“They all thought it would strengthen my claim if I did, but if you had not noticed, I came here alone without her. I still have never even met her. I told you I was the last of my family, because as far as I've ever met, I am. I didn't even know her whereabouts until..” Hand gesturing to the raven scroll. 

It had said that she was finally reported by Vaes Dothrak atop a dragon, but that there were still some to be suspected under the temple of Mereen which was under her control. Your father's tone was before, was indistinguishably short and unimpressed as yours coming out. 

Stepping around the chair you came much more into his view, snatching a ship from the painted table's layout which was used to represent the Golden Companys own fleet, leaning against the side of it with your back against the table, staring unblinkingly harsh at the Targaryean. “Tell us what you know about them. Her dragons.” 

The fact that Aegon had to look down to meet you in the eyes took nothing away from the cold intensity that gave away nothing in such a firm stature. “The one spotted by Vaes Dothrak, is the largest, Drogon.” 

Your hands easily tearing off a sail from the wooden figure as you repeated but in a quiet mutter, almost mocking his more meek tone. “Drogon,” 

“She has two others, reportedly locked in the dungeons of the temple in Mereen. Viserion,” Ripping off another sail, you chucked it along the painted table once more as your eyebrows raised, repeating the name. Aegon glanced with what almost was to be a sigh to Stannis before finding again, no ally as he returned to you. “And Rhaegal.” 

Nodding, you tore the last sail off. “Rhaegal.” Nothing left of it, you under tossed it roughly to slam against the painted table, knocking down what other wooden ships sat by to represent that of Dragonstone. “We could have three dragons flying to our shores any day, and we would be powerless to resist. What does that say about your intentions that you chose to share this with none of the two Kings seeking peace on this island, until I had to translate your raven before it got to you.” Your head tilting to gesture to Stannis. 

The man himself, looked none impressed as he too moved closer. “I spent four years at war trying to press my claim for the Seven Kingdoms, and yet I've put that on hold beacuse I can't rule Kingdoms that do not exist once winter arrives.” Your eyes forced to stay in place, not to ask him about it, it wasn't the time nor your business about his involvement with the Nights Watch. “You and this woman mean to bring dragons back to our lands, scorch our earth and massacre our people when already a war is coming for us from the North.” 

For all spoken of being the last dragon, and the fire and blood of the family known for their undeserving pride, there was something not quite comfortable as he swallowed. He hadn’t spoken a word of this since you all had been here, and you were dizzy trying to connect it all to a why. “I never wanted..I didn't ask to be involved in her affairs. They tried to convince me to ask her for help but I said no. I came here without them, I got the Golden Company on my own to follow, I didn't need her help, and-”

Something in him stopped, as he looked between you both. Walking to the head of the painted table his hands braced against the top of the chair there. You and Stannis both shared a glance, something unsure of trust in both your eyes but allowed him to gather his thoughts.

“I know what they say about my grandfather, the things he had done. Hearing is one thing, but, knowing one of your own is out there doing all of that and worse is another.” Looking up to you both, finding something it seemed, a bit less difficult to look in the eye as something freezing washed over yours. “They say she performed some kind of blood magic to hatch her dragons, sacrificing her own slave, and ever since she’s let them turn her into a conqueror.” A drop to more of a strained whisper, “And despite my namesake, I do not use that title mindlessly, I assure you both.” 

You saw green and screaming, what you had done to even be rid of the wildfire brought to your shores was more monstrous then you ever imagined doing and yet it was nothing compared to what three dragons would accomplish. 

Aegon continued looking between you both now finding confidence in what likely he had rarely spoken of and finally getting out as terrifying as it kept becoming, “In Essos, her brutality is already legendary. She has taken the Unsullied for herself, and burned their previous masters alive. She crucified hundreds of noblemen in Slaver's Bay without a second thought, even boys as young as twelve for simply who they were born as without ever due trial for who as guilty and who wasn't. And when she grew bored of that, she fed the rest of her enemies to her dragons.” 

You tried to find the right words more then once, but Stannis settling on a calmer disbelief for his thoughts attached. “Why keep such a close eye on her movements if you didn't intend to warn of it?”

It now was even move clear, Lord Varys had kept a certain degree of strange information from these people. “My – Lord Connington wishes for me to take her as a wife. Secure a powerful rule on the Iron Throne and if so then have use of her dragons as well. I chose to sail here without her instead. I shouldn’t have to go running to my aunt for help like some beggar.” 

A low hiss in your own whisper finally clawed back at what he was focusing on. “This isn’t about who you wish to marry. We are not here to help you with a family dispute, we are fighting a war coming from beyond the wall-” Stopping the raise in your voice, you stepped back for a moment as your hand pressed to your forehead with a harsh pressure. Turning away until it eased up, you looked back to your father, only nodding once at you, letting you speak your peace, albeit calmer.

Facing Aegon once more, you gestured to Stannis before pacing closer and closer to the dragon. “He and Jon are the only Kings who care to protect the realm, before something we know nothing about comes for us all. What use is everything we have sacrificed if armies of Unsullied and Dothraki come to destroy the people’s homes, rape and enslave our women and children? Watch it be burned down by dragons and the daughter of the man Jons father and mine fought to overthrow?”

It didn’t matter if Aegon or anyone didn’t believe in what winter storms would blew through the realm without a second thought. The world seemed to be closing in on you, ice on one side and fire from the other and both were just as terrifying. 

You felt as if he were looming over you increasing in his own frustration as his face twisted to anger, stepping closer to you. Stannis on the other side circling around quietly as the Targaryean stood tall and large in your face with anger. “I don’t want any of that, I didn’t conquer lands or burn down innocent people just to call myself a King. I was raised to be better then that, better then her. I told Jon Connington I was the only dragon he needed, and I meant that. I don’t need to ride on a dragon the size of Balerion the Dread. I want people to want me as their King not be scared of me.” 

Narrowed eyes stabbed within the gaze of the other as Stannis stood now enough by him that Aegons shoulders tensed, your fathers voice was low and calmer. “Yet you are still demanding Jon Snow and myself, bend the knee and swear fealty to you.” The blue haired dragon only glared at you as you did him. “Knowing he and I, would be giving up everything we've fought for.” 

Biting your tongue as you inhaled, trying to keep your heart calmer before you muttered through more gritted teeth. “I stood against my father for three years thinking we would one day go to war with one another, and now he and Jon are working side by side to protect their people from the Others.” 

Looking between you both, the rain pouring down just outside the castle walls filling the air, Aegon swallowed. “If I don't fight for my right-”

Your father finished for him however, his voice low, and a sympathy within that had Aegon turn from you entirely to look. Not a comforting man Stannis Baratheon, but an understanding one. “I once thought that if I did not press my claim, that my claim would be forgotten. That I would be just a page in someone else's history books, but I'm not fighting for it now. Not here. I saw the truth, and it is coming no matter if you believe us. But we have been honest, you kept this from us.” His head nodding to the raven. “You mean to cut off our legs and leave us crippled to Daenerys Targaryean and her dragons, all so you can pursue the Iron Throne without competition. I would suggest reconsidering Jon Snow's offer to discuss terms with him, he convinced me this war the most important one, maybe if you have enough intellect left in you, he will do the same again.”

You had told Aegon you would go fetch for Jon yourself, sending him off closer to the main grounds of the castle as the rain only barley begun to ease up. Before turning the corridor, you looked back to the dragon before he could turn away. An unpleasant glare in his own eyes that faded into conflict as they drifted into anger. “If you wish to follow your ancestors, be that Rhaegar or your own namesake, we cannot stop you. But he won't kneel for you. Jon is not Torrhen Stark, and he never will be. But winter is coming, and we're running out of time, Aegon. Which means you're running out of time.”

Many woodland creatures looked at the approaching figure as a beast, large and terrifying as sharp eyes saw all. No noise was made other then small ones scattered about as if they knew they weren’t to be food for this one. 

It was never not strange, especially now so far away to do so. So many times at the wall it would happen in his sleep and he tried to tell himself otherwise. They were only dreams he’d think to himself as he woke in the morning. At night Jon’s mind was filled with too much thought, too much work, and too much impending doom looming over the horizon of the far North and every night he found no solace. He dreamt of direwolves. 

Control is what a warg was said to be able to do. Find their consciousness inside that of an animal and control them of your own, and yet sometimes Jon doubted it was as simple as such. Each time he had found himself seeing through Ghost’s eyes he found himself knowing what he knew and needing no explanation to follow what path he was already on. 

Was Jon really the one in control of Ghost, or did they share that consciousness together? Because as he walked through the snowy lands of the wolfswood, Jon knew he was following tracks that of other wolves. He knew what he was searching for and there was no reason he should, but he would walk at night through the trees and search as Ghost would alone. 

Sometimes he would sit in on the meetings of the Lords in charge for him. At first questioning the appearance of the giant creature but settling once they saw he would only sit silent right where he could see the whole room. But now, as he walked the morning through the woods, he realized what Ghost had realized before him, or together he surmised. 

Whoever the wolves were which he seemed to be stalking, one left tracks that too large for normal ones. Ones Jon would step right into with a front paw and fit perfectly. Out in the wolfswood around Winterfell, Ghost was searching for the trace of another direwolf. 

He could hear something else in the distance. A mist somewhere on his person, that was followed by pouring of rain overhead and waves crashing against the rocks. It was that which kept Jon from losing where and who he was.

It was harder some days then other to remember he was a man. He would be back in the snowy North, his paws sunk deep into a drift of snow as he stood on the edge of a great cliff. Or dreams suddenly finding his mind inside of Ghost during a hunt, and he suddenly needed to kill and fill his stomach with fresh meat and dark blood. 

The feeling would startle him awake sometimes, the night before he had awoken just as his blood red eyes found, ironically, prey in that of a deer. For a few seconds, he couldn’t quite come back from how much Ghost’s hunger woke Jon, making his own mouth water. His hands tensed as if still paws and his nails acting as claws, Jon realized he was digging his nails deep into your hip almost drawing blood, and the force already bruising the skin. 

You hadn’t at least, woken up at the pain, Jon had well worn you out only hours before. 

But as he stood there now, his mind only was pulled back by the sudden sensation over his fur of delicate nails, scratching gently along his spine as he let a low growl out. But was the airy, quiet whisper making his ears twitch did Jon pull his mind back, reminding himself once more he was a man. “Jon,” A soft voice far from the North and Jon had to focus to come back. He was not a wolf. His hands had been braced against a high railing and his gloved hands strained at the pressure as the rainy skies of Dragonstone returned. 

You knew before you had even gotten to his side, his stiff posture unmoving but also with a tensity that was not indicative of the isolated spot around him. It would take not much more but a gentle coaxing to pull Jon back, not wanting to startle whatever path Ghost was taking him on so far away. You had almost felt bad, it was clear he missed the direwolf and there was little doubt Ghost missed him just as much. 

Letting him wander the North in the eyes of Ghost was also simply a way to bond with his companion so far from one another. 

Much work had been done under the grounds of the island. Tunnels and strange pathways that with enough men stretched deep and far with caches of Dragonglass amongst the strange sparkle of a cave that stood around you like a dreaming sky. 

Dragonglass was not for much use elsewhere, but it was certainly a very hard material to cut through, all tools needing to be as sharp as each others and as long as what broke off of the walls came down without shattering into tiny pieces that was all that was needed. It wasn’t the solution to save his people, it was a resort needed to protect those who otherwise won’t be able to protect themselves from what was coming. It killed the Others, it killed wights and if something came for you it was enough to survive. 

The rest of it all however, was trickier. But one step at a time, too much and winter would overtake everything and blind Jon and yourself to what needed to be done.  

It was almost adorable, the way you gently approached him softly whispering his name, and seeing even as his eyes paled over with an eeiry white, his brows furrowed in a brief confusion. For a moment it was almost as if a growl formed deep in his chest as you ran your hand flat and lightly up his spine before returned to you, blinked away the white and once more his grey eyes came back.

Not pressing him on what he was doing, instead he seemed to have gotten the message that you were trying to address him in a manner that wouldn’t tip off he was elsewhere as his back was turned. A flicker of his eyes to you, and you spoke low with a stoic look in your eye but a splash of amusement tinged behind your breath. “Aegon has decided he would like to discuss terms with the King in the North, peacefully that is.”

Jon’s eyes glanced more to your slightly clenched jaw and rigid posture, a small rasp as his hands tightened against the stone he was braced against as the wolfish sensation crept out slowly. “Are you and Stannis not invited?” 

Shrugging a shoulder, you didn't want to weigh him down just now with what was discussed just yet, hoping the dragon would be reasonable otherwise with Jon as many were. “We already spoke, however I wouldn't say it went very well. It could be he is a difficult one to work with, or..” 

Jons voice was low as it was amused, “Or it could just be beacuse it's you and Stannis.”

That pulled a chuckle from you, pulling your hand from his spine as you nudged his arm as a playful smirk was shared between your glances at the other. Not mentioning it to you, but he tried not to focus that the spot felt cold to Jon as you pulled away. Wrapping your shall around in the coolness just short of the rain Jon stood by, you leaned more against his side easy. “I'd wish you good luck, but it seems you are far better at having that with negotiations then I ever am.”

“You could be good at it, if you weren't so stubborn.” 

Jon smirked to himself as your own face twisted in a playful offence. “Is this your first time meeting any one from my family?” He chuckled more freely next to you, only your voice lowered a bit as you leaned more to look at him. “Is everything alright, home I mean?” 

Nodding, he looked out to the rainy island around and couldn't stop the feeling of how much he missed the cold and snow instead. If he knew how much longer he had to be here, Jon would have been counting down the days already. “It is, everyone's keeping the peace.” 

He needed to go, but as you both stood there for a moment the pair of you let the comforting, warm quiet between you sit. Never time to yourselves, never allowed any time to yourselves it felt. 

Small moments were all you had, Jon and Robb both it was starting to feel. 

Too many had been gathered in the hall, for what was suspected a crowd was the worst thing to be in the corridor. Your own shorter figure was braced against the door frame, hands perched on it’s edge as you watched the careful movements of Maester Cressen. Beside him was your father and the silent, solemn look between them made you feel even worse. 

None had ever seen you quite so openly distressed as when you burst through the door in terror saying something was wrong with Shireen. Your mother now stood on the other side of the door frame in a stilled silence contrasting how your muscles almost shook as you watched. 

Cressen was quiet, only for family but it was your mother’s shaking gasp wavering into a need to cry that told the rest everything they needed to know. “It is as she feared, my lord.” The second you had looked at him and said her skin looked cracked and grey he and your father had moved swiftly. Your father ordering his squire to fetch Selyse and bring her to Shireen’s room as he pulled you with them to see for themselves what you had seen. 

Whispers rippled around behind you and your mother in horror and concern. “We have to deal with this now,” one said. Another whispering, “Who knows which one of us already has it next.” A third in the back almost angrily, “She needs to be dealt with before we’re all shipped off with the stone men.” 

Maester Cressen at least, held a bit more peace in his tone as he spoke to only the family. “There are methods to keep it at bay to varying degree of usefulness. Most accounts differ to what helps, but to take the safest course I would recommend none but me have contact with Shireen for the time being.” 

Your father looked at you, “It was the doll you mentioned was suspect, correct?” 

Nodding, you looked at it now laying on a small table on a cloth to be wrapped up and burned away outside. “It’s the only new thing she has, and Septa Moelle wasn’t paying attention, Shireen was napping with the doll pressed to her face.” You could hear her protest behind you, but your head whipped around as the red in your eyes stung enough to raise your voice. “I always pay attention to her when I'm with her, you weren’t even on the same side of the room when I came in.”

You knew the older woman was not happy with your more insolent attitude in the past few years, her eyes narrowing in a lecture already. “Well I could hardly stop the disease from being on the doll could I have? What else would you have me do, child?” 

“Watch her-” 

You had started to yell, only to have your father call your own name sternly. Your body flipping around to face him again, but there was no lecture in his eyes. A rigid posture that begged to fall apart and a strain in his voice and eyes as he glanced to the others. “Leave us.” 

All but the family and Maester Cressen remained, as Stannis beckoned Selyse to step inside more before closing the door. Your arms had crossed over your chest, trying to contain the growing ache inside of it as you kept looking over at little Shireen oblivious to the world threatening to take her away from you all. Your father’s voice was quiet, and less angry then you presumed. “I understand how upset you feel, but I cannot have blame thrown around like that. This isn’t anyone’s fault. Including yours.” 

Your eyes flew down, looking anywhere but his and you despised how easily he had seen past your anger. Your mother was quiet toned off to the side, “She is young and it has only just appeared there must be something we can do.” 

Maester Cressen however, gave little hope. “Some believe cutting off the effected area upon formation will stop the spread, but that is out of the question in our case. I have a number of mixtures I can apply, and vinegar is also spoken heavily of something that prevents it’s spread to others. But other then that, there is little we can do.” 

You shook your head fervently, “No there has to be an answer somewhere.” He tried to explain otherwise but your voice raise only shook as tears begun to form behind your eyes. “We could write to the citadel, some book there must have an answer we don’t.”

Perhaps if this was a more affectionate family, Selyse would have been more willing to pull you back into an embrace with her at your desperation, but you all stood there feet apart as alone feeling as one another. “There is no harm in requesting aid, or even inquiring if they would be willing to look on our behalf.” 

Your father was braced with a hand on the high frame of the bed, eyes trained down on Shireen who blissfully was looking up at him with a smile hoping to pull one from her father back. His voice quiet as he never looked away or moved an inch from her. “Do everything available to you to treat her, and when you run out of options? Find more.” 

You slowly stepped around everyone, coming to the other side of Shireen’s bed. You only just got her, you had finally seen The Mother grant your years of prayers and let a sibling be born. You couldn’t let her just take that away so soon. You finally had a sister, you couldn’t let her slip away right before your own eyes. “Did you hear that sweet girl? Father will make sure we get you better, yeah?” 

Shireen was none the wiser, only reaching out with a tiny hand wanting you to return to her with a cuddle, and it only made the tears fall freely down your face. Would you ever be able to hold her again before the greyscale took too much of her? Would she think you hate her now? 

If the adults had spoken around you, you didn’t notice. Only silently crying as you looked at the confusion of your new baby sister not understanding why you wouldn’t come to her. Your father’s voice was full of a pain as it was a rough determination. “Maester, none but you and I will be allowed access near Shireen for now. Selyse,” Your father motioned towards you with a nod. “Have her septa prepare a room temporarily in another corridor.” You turned to look at him, and for once, he did not scold you for so freely protesting him over something. “This is not a debate. I almost lost you to a fever a thousand miles away, only four years ago. I will not chance this disease taking both of you now.” 

What you hadn’t realized at that time, was just how little you were about to be allowed to see Shireen in any way for well over a month. And even less so after only a fortnight from now when maesters, healers, and any other kind of potential for a cure came pouting into Dragonstone and left you feeling lost as to what to do all alone.

Other then who had been called upon to help cure her, the island was closed off from any and all people. And no ravens were to be sent or received during that time, not wanting to risk any chance of one of such birds or letters carry a hint of greyscale off the island. 

You had a painful feeling you knew where your mother currently was. The halls more empty in the middle of the day as windows all opened around let the breeze flow around fresh. Your room once more, had not been touched it seemed. 

Looking to the box still sat alone on a cabinet top, you ran your hands delicately over the surface. Deep blue with orange foxed adorning the sides while the inside you knew was a mixture of browns, and black and gold all forming that of antlers. You had done it yourself the first time, painted it to represent both your birth houses. 

You could see what was sitting inside without opening again to check, and you knew that it was the last thing you had to do. You had one last part of Shireen, but you knew another needed these. A loss she couldn’t blame her own fanatical intents for. Being back on Dragonstone was nothing but miserable and yet you felt something compelling you to give one last kindness of yourself away. 

By the time you had made your way down the corridor, you could see her door was open partially. The wind blowing her curtains against her bed with rushing water splashed behind and birds calling to the songs Shireen loved to sing when she was spending time in her room. Selyse was sat against one side of her bed, a paper in her hands, one of Shireens unsent letters to you no doubt, that her eyes refused to tear away from even as you stepped inside. 

Neither spoke a word while you gently sat beside her. The box closed and sat gently in your lap, fingers running along the sides as you looked around the room. Not much had changed since your last visit with her. Books more advanced sat scattered about, ones dragonglass and volcanoes choking your insides to the memory of her saying she would be a scholar on it by the time you came back. A want to impress her big sister by showing she researched the mines that you were carving into now. 

You never got to spend time with her as you both wished. Once she had been cured for coming to a month was when you and your father left for Kings Landing. King Robert had come to the island, beckoning his brother to serve as Master of Ships properly from the capitol instead of here, and your father had agreed and taken you with him. From then, only in letters and visits short and rare did Shireen still have a sister. 

Voice so quiet as she spoke, it was low with a distant sorrow sat heavy in it’s sound. “I was beside myself when we had gotten the raven about your illness. Realizing that we could have lost you so far away from where we could help you was terrifying.” The letter in her hands drifted down, folding back into the position she unfurled it from initially. Neither of you looked at the other. “I’m not sure I ever felt more scared however, then learning Shireen had caught greyscale in her own home, in her own bed. I was horrified.” Her voice even in such low quiet, still cracked in pain. “I almost lost both of my girls and there was nothing I could do to change it.” 

Far away on your own, you could see you and her here. You sitting where Shireen had been, and your mother where you sat, and the crestfallen expression as a reality hit her she did not understand. “I always promised to take her North one day, bring her with me to meet the Starks and she was always upset knowing you would never let her.” Swallowing heavy before pushing strongly forth. “She didn’t understand how terrifying it was. Almost losing her, having to stand and listen to father’s men all tell him to send her away before it was too late. Or how much you and father smiled when she got better.” 

Before however she had a chance to respond, you spoke a bit more firmly. “I used to think you blamed me for my brothers.” Her neck whipped over to you, but you only swallowed more with a clearing throat but the waver did not go away. “You stopped spending time with me after your first, and father sent me away after the second. I thought boys were supposed to come before girls and I had cursed you to lose the rest beacuse I was somehow killing them just by way of being around you.” 

You didn’t realize quite yet, that her brows narrowed as her eyes shined with a mist as you looked down to the box. “Everytime I would write their names on paper, spell out the prayers I had always heard Septon Barre bless the other children with under the Seven, and burn it into ash. I’d hold them with my own blood and let them wash into the sea. Everytime I prayed to The Mother begging her to forgive you, to forgive them and let them pass into the heavens and be together. They were my blood and my fault so I needed to pass them on.” 

Selyse stayed silent. “I made a toy for each. Wanting to give them something hand crafted and so everytime I put the new one in here when they were gone.” Your fingers now trailing over the top. “Hid it away so that no one could take them from us, even after the Mother took them from you. But they weren’t my sons, they were yours.” 

Turning to look at her, neither of you hid the pain. You gently handed her the box, her gaze looking it over before carefully pulling the top off. Your heart weighed far too much in your chest as you looked down at them all. Taking her time to gaze over each one did she realize you had gone back to carve a name into all four of them. Her voice a disbelieving whisper. “Petyr, Edric..” 

“I did the same the first night back here with Ned.” Her eyes once more looking to you, but you looked at no one but the memory of deep blue eyes and an astounded laugh of joy. “I will always have part of him with me, every time I look in a mirror I will see him against me for good, but you don’t have anything of them. And as far into the future as I can imagine the second I leave this place I have no plans on coming back. They deserve to be in the hands of a mother they never knew. A child doesn’t deserve to have never truly met their mother.” 

This time, you weren’t sure who you were even referring to anymore. Your life or your dreams.

The quiet was palpable as she looked at them, for a good while enough that you tempted standing to make your leave when she spoke. “I didn’t know my grandson had a name. Or that you had named all of my own sons..” Strangely, a small laugh left her lips. “You already were a better mother with your own brothers then I was to my own daughter. I can’t take back the years we didn’t speak, or the war we were on opposite sides of but I can start atoning for it now.” 

Placing the lid back on, she put it to the side before turning to look at you more directly. The memory of waking up in Winterfell with Catelyn Stark so gently running a hand through your hair trying to ease you into things without being scared or confused hit you. But as so many years later the act was done by your true mother, you had muttered a quiet “Aren't we a a fucking pair?” 

Eyes widening, your name in a scold came flying out of her lips in disbelief before taking a beat to pass and then laughing. Something you don’t know the last time you saw Selyse do. Her hand now mindlessly smoothing out messy strands at the side of your hair, “I suppose one Queen to another I can’t quite scold you for language any longer.” 

You thought of your Uncle Axell, her own brother and what Maester Pylos had said but in truth you wondered what the point of bringing it up to her was. Her belief was stronger then your fathers even now, and had already witnessed how tight the red woman’s tendrils had been wrapped around her mind to think nothing of monstrosities. It didn’t make any of it right, but Selyse wasn’t a monster. 

Just a woman who spent much of her life ill, and too many years as a mother losing her children over and over again. You only had lost one, and you knew the things you in that year with the Boltons had twisted you into believing, things that to this day Jon was still finding spots it was tangled deeply in your darker psyche. 

Selyse and you were different for those things, but Stannis also told you of how he and your mother seemed to only let those beliefs get worse after they thought you were dead, and you knew that was no coincidence. Having no grasp of letting the red witch burn her brother alive after losing her eldest daughter and grandson in one slaughter. You still if you thought hard enough, could feel how much your hand stung in the pressure as you sunk a knife so deep into Myranda’s tongue and mouth that you hadn’t noticed until the next morning you had her blood splattered across your face and even then you almost cared not to wipe it from you. 

Or how if Theon let you walk into that room, you would have wasted no time carving a number of sickeningly horrific things into Roose Bolton for every wound you and Robb had been killed with. A chilling memory of how if you were lucky you would have done worse to Ramsay that night. Horror in grief made the mind desperate to find answers in the blood that traumatized you in the first place, and you found it harder and harder to look at your mother and hate her for any of it. 

Stannis was another story, it always was with your father. You and him too alike to find harmony in the ways you always saw in Lord Stark with Robb, with Jon. Those three of them cut so close of the same cloth but not for a moment did they clash. 

In many ways Stannis was similar to Ned Stark, and it was why you suspected he and Jon seemed to find ease in working beside the other. Jon was raised with the best of values his father could pass to him, and it was those which Stannis respected more then anything. But the aspects of you and your father which were similar blended as well as drinking wildfire with a dash of honey to soothe it down. 

The honey works for the bitter taste on your tongue, but the wildfire will still twist your insides and expose that it never really would go well in the first place. You were finding it easier to stand in the same room as your father, but there were things you couldn’t quite get passed but now perhaps it would be easier if you both understood that.

On the opposite end, Catelyn would hate you for finding love in Jon after losing Robb and, and Robb’s unborn son. But you knew it was none of those things which ever caused the divide between you and Selyse. A difference in core beliefs and what was right and wrong were the stops and the sights of fire as a terrifying horror versus the inevitable godly truth. 

She was trying, and she didn’t hate you for having such different choices and beliefs then her. The woman who raised you half of your life would hate you for simply loving the bastard son of her husband. Look down on you for finding a life after being ripped from Robb in the brother he loved more then anyone, and solely would do so beacuse she couldn’t see him as anything but a memory of infidelity. 

The voice next to him was easier to talk to then it was days before, much easier he found. Jon stood over the outside lands, the rain having cleared up enough that they could stand outside and stay dry. From here, Jon could watch the sights of his men, as next to him Aegon watched Jon with an uncertainty flickering between things. Both men had put forth that the two of them talk things out more civilly, and at the least so far he found once no other eyes and men were there to watch, the dragon found a bit more personality in his words. 

“You make brooding over my failure here quite difficult, do you know that? You look far better brooding then I do.” As if unintentionally proving his point, Jon barley could muster half a smirk before it dropped once more. Brows narrowed watching his people, his only thoughts were how little chance any stood once the storms finally came and how so far he convinced all but none of the dangers. Aegon beside him filling the silence, “I’m the prisoner, I should be the miserable one.” 

Jon’s tone was flat but not unsympathetic to the thought. “You’re not my prisoner. We're both keeping our men out here in peace, and you can take them and leave whenever you want. I didn’t come here for you or your army, I needed one thing before the dead come.”

Aegon was having difficulty with the ideas. He wanted to sigh clearly, but Jon could see his gaze finding the side of his once more with a question. “You’ve been King longer then myself, how about you figure out what to do for my plans of taking Kings Landing, and I figure out what to do about your walking ice monsters.” 

There was something close to partially amused in Jon’s chest but it didn’t make it to the surface at all to see. Partially distracted by the thought of how he was beginning to miss the cold. It was windy on Dragonstone but humid and heavy in air the moment you left the close cliff sides to the waters. A once memory of looking to a summer in Highgarden and now that felt foolish, Jon wasn’t sure anymore he would be comfortable in any place that didn’t leave him a little bit on the edge of freezing. 

“It’s hard for me to fathom, you understand.” 

Not hesitating, Jon was confident as he spoke. “I do. But I also know that I sent two hundred men to the wall from an enemy I defeated, and that still won’t be nearly enough. We made pleads to the crown multiple times for help, but it was only King Stannis who came. He was the only one who believed us, and I’m starting to think I was lucky to get even him on our side.” 

Aegon stood silently for a good minute. Arms crossed over his chest as he considered the difference between them. He had been trained for this his entire life, he knew how to look like a King, hold himself like a King, and how to rally men and speak as a King. But it was in the quiet, rasping, deep tones of Jon Snow, that had Aegon realizing none his own training meant anything compared to a leader who had one cause he truly believed in. “He seems like an unpleasant man, but not one easily swayed by those around him. Says something he came to your aid, even if it was just beacuse of his daughter.” 

The silence between them was strange to Aegon as it was choking to Jon. What horrors had the Boltons forced onto you by the time Jon had finally met your father? How much had you thought everyone in the realm had given up on you when in truth both men were closer to you then ever without knowing? 

Then he thought of Mance. He rarely did anymore, his time with the King Beyond the Wall not long nor was it anywhere near pleasant. He respected him in many ways, but when trying to find the truth of what he really gained from knowing him boiled down to one thing. 

“You're a good lad. Truly you are. But if you can't understand why l won't enlist my people in a foreigner's war, there's no point explaining.”

If Jon could, he’d apologize to Mance for learning that lesson only after the man himself was dead. 

“She had nothing to do with it.” Glancing to Aegon with a clenched jaw, “Stannis coming to our aid, he did it on his own choice. She had nothing to do with that. She- we both thought she was dead.” He didn’t know what others heard about you or him, but it sounded less and less appealing to him by day having people know about both of your deaths, and both of you coming back from it. 

Beside him he could feel a tension. There wasn’t much he could do about that either, Jon had no interest in placating rivalries of almost thirty years passed. If Aegon was going to join him, then your presence would simply be something he would have to learn to deal with. His voice was controlled too, as if not to show Jon how agitated he felt. “It’s a tall tale you are asking men to believe. I don’t even know if I do yet.” 

Jons voice was nearing a quite irritated edge. “How do I convince people who don't know me, that an enemy they don't believe in, is coming to kill them all?” 

Aegon chuckled, and Jon didn’t appreciate it. He was included in that frustrations as far as Jon was concerned. Nodding amusingly, “Good question.” 

Jon’s response was short, and with a stilted anger that he had to reign in. “I know it’s a good question. I’m looking for an answer.” That feeling only compounded with the wonder, was it him that was the problem convincing people or their blindness to the truth? Would this be easier were it Robb standing here instead of him, Jon wondered. Robb was the better talker, after all. 

“What do I get out of helping you? I came here for the Iron Throne, not to fight ice monsters in the North beside a King who won’t even bend the knee. I help you and what would I get in return?” 

This time, Jon’s eyes did meet his. The grey painted dark enough it flashed with an angry frustration as he lost more of his patience with him. “That’s the problem. I’m not fighting this war to get anything out of it but to help keep my people alive. But the more of you who fight against me, or demand you only will help if you get something out of me? I don’t have time to stand here and teach you why you’re the one missing the point.” Jon stood a bit closer to him with not an ounce of patience left for this. “You’re fighting for some chair, I’m fighting to save my people. If you can’t understand why that’s more important then the Iron Throne, then there’s nothing left for us to talk about.” 

Aegon wasn’t nearly as confident, but he at the least, wasn’t hostile. “I suppose there isn’t.” 

The sight out in the training yard by the cliff side was an interesting one. Approaching the holdings for swords, lances, arrows and a variety of other weaponry you came to stand beside Ser Davos who was watching in amusement. Leaning your palms against the wooden holding you found a small smirk. “Is this how we hold meetings these days? Beating each other with swords?” 

The man chuckled, glancing to you with a playful twist on his own face. “I don’t know if I would call what they’re doing beating each other, your grace.” Looking over, you had to bite your tongue at just how correct he was. It seemed a few of the men had found use in challenging and failing to best Jon in a duel. 

“How long have they been at this exactly?” There were laughs shared amongst the Northerners watching around with the men of the Golden Company as if none were at odds just days ago, the ones on the main area were a few you did not recognize, at the side of an increasingly exhausted and frustrated looking Aegon against a confident but focused Jon. 

One lunged and was almost instantly overpowered with a few quick movements from him that they seemed not to even see coming, to which the Northerners around had a chuckle at as well as a smirk trying not to form on Jon’s own face. Ser Davos beside you letting it sit on his. “I think he’s been knocking most of them into the ground for about an hour now. I will give it to Aegon, he hasn’t given up yet.” There was certainly enough grime on the man to prove it had been a while. “Even if it would be in his best interest.” 

Leaning forward more, you let your forearms brace over with hands clasping gently together as you watched freely. The two kings now opposite, Aegon’s blue hair tied up and back as strands continued to fall in his face, whereas Jon’s curls sat loose and far less damp then his counterparts in sweat. His voice lighter then it had been in just as long, not a trace of burden and frustration pushing him down more then he deserved. “You’re paying too much attention guessing what I’m going to do next. By the time you figure it out, I’ll already have hit you when you weren’t looking.” 

Sighing out, Aegon squared his shoulders and readjusted his grip on the practice sword. “Focusing too much now, of course.” Both men looked at the other, as a second pair of men also stood by each side of the dragon. 

It didn’t last long. Biting your tongue hard you found yourself finding an appreciation you never truly had before. Jon fought with ease, as if his sword was simply part of his arm moving around them and the second one got too close, there was a teeth gritting strength behind his hits to move them off or incapacitate them. A harsh slam to Aegon’s face knocked him right back and easily had Jon all but slam down the sword from his grasp in the result. 

Thankfully, Jon didn’t look your way just yet. A tightening in your chest that heated your blood rushing along to every corner of your veins had you biting your tongue harder to keep such a stoic expression, you knew what he was like too much now. In a fight and more and such skill and strength swooped into your heart and made it race. Inhaling deep through your nose you felt it slow back to normal just enough to simmer the look from finding your eyes.

The gathering parting ways a bit more, Jon gathered what was scattered about as Aegon spat out what bit of blood Jon had hit up into him. Your eyebrows lifted a tinge without changing much else, voice flatter then he appreciated as you looked his way. “Well fought.” 

Glaring at you with a hissed, “Piss off.” You looked to Davos as a smirk did indeed fail to get covered up on you, your eyes much softer now glancing back to Jon. You truly hadn’t seem him at any ease in what felt like such a long time. Even for just now, it warmed you to see just a hint of it. 

Jon found a voice which sounded much like the days in the Winterfell training yards as he and Robb would still be much more inclined to knock you into the dirt yourself to teach you. “Fighting comes easier to some then others. You train everyday you’ll get better, but you can’t assume it’ll be enough to make you the best man in the field. Eventually even the best get bested.” 

Turning back with a twist on his face, Aegon argued “So you’re saying if you weren’t the best out there the other night, it wouldn’t have been humiliating for you?” Jon’s easy answer only of no almost made you laugh. If there was one thing he had none of, it was an ego. “Well it is for me. The rest of the Seven Kingdoms hear I lost my first proper fight to a girl and they’ll all laugh me back out of the country for being a coward.” 

It slipped out honestly, your eyebrow raised at him with a quick comment of “You’re too stupid to be a coward.” Jon and Davos both grinned at the ease of how you said it. Connington having watched silently from afar moved forward to grab Aegon’s sword with a yank, a silent comment on his lips likely telling him to cool off. 

Was he purposely circling around you like you were a prey being stalked? 

The evening sun setting in the sky still begging to rain again, but Jon had not let left the training yard, now only the two of you remained. One practice sword in each of your respective holds and yet he had not the courtesy to let you change from the dress you were in. A hard to hold back smirk of amusement on your face as you twisted and turned to keep your eyes on him. 

“What happened to not wanting me near a sword any longer?” 

A dark mischief sat in Jon’s eyes as he stood tall before you, a lightness still on his voice kept from earlier. “We both know you’re not going to stick to that.” A smirk on his lips was less cheeky and more of a soft fondness that bled into affection of the grey. “I know we haven't done this in years together, I’ll go easy on you.” 

Once upon a time you wouldn’t have believed him on that, but now there was not the confident aggression in his stance he was holding himself with hours before. “As if that ever lasts long.” 

Flashing almost black in his eyes for a moment did Jon almost stop in his tracks, you were purposely trying to rile him up. Throw him off track and he seemed to have caught onto it faster then he would have years ago. He was quick though, enough that you barley had a chance to turn around, but just as the two practice swords were to clash he had the strength to hold it merely an inch from colliding. “Besides, I miss just being able to spend time alone with my best friend.” 

The brightness in his eyes soaked through your skin and absorbed into your very heart, your hold on the sword in your left hand almost shook enough he could knock it out. Instead he did something unexpected, using a free hand of his own and running it gently along the loose hair at the back of your head as he leaned in, hovering over your lips. But your gentleness spoke before he could close that gap.

“I could name a fair few people who might object to me having that title anymore.” But just as his free hand raked down your hair you realized what he was trying to do. Almost with a ducking spin you nearly avoided being yanked back into him with his sword at your neck, taking a few steps back with a grinning audacity at his own smirk. 

Jon had gotten much better since you both last did this. In Winterfell during your last visit when Lord Arryn was still alive, Jon and Robb had teamed up on you alone taking easy turns all but tossing you around. Robb was overwhelming and fierce in direct attacks that had you only able to defend and never gain the upper hand, only to have you turned around and disoriented by Jon’s swift grace and using his unfair strength to shove you back into Robb. 

Even now you could hear Bran, Arya, and Rickon all watching and yelling as it onlookers of a tournament and arguing who was going to win. Ned Stark had approached the scene behind all of your views and watched his sons who were clearly toying with you. Not that he had said it, nor did you know, but he had commented to Ser Rodrick that it was impressive you had kept up as long as you had. 

Knowing his boys had done this since they were old enough to hold a sword. Robb and Jon would wake up early, and in the warm days of summer they wouldn’t even come to break their fast, just running out into the training yard and fighting until Ser Rodrick could finally come out and properly teach them. A many of those mornings they would choose heroes of old to be, yelling at the top of their lungs what great warriors they admired which they pretended to fight as. Some mornings as he walked the halls of Winterfell he would sigh deeply, shaking his head at how of all times his son chose to be the loud one it was the sounds of Jon yelling at the top of his lungs far too early in the morning, that he was The Young Dragon. 

But you hadn’t ever held something sharper then a dinner knife before coming to Winterfell. You on the second visit had begun learning to shoot a bow, and picked that up with ease. You were quiet and focused most of the time anyways. But never anything more. 

You hadn’t sparred with any that wasn’t a life or death slashing of genuine battle since he and Robb as they toyed with you, the small doe at the mercy of two true wolves looking at you like a meal. 

In truth, you supposed that turned out to be far more true then you ever imagined. 

Smiling and huffing a laugh was so freely falling from your lips, Jon was trying to challenge you but every upper hand he gained it was never aggressive. Just enough to push you back onto the right track as you both moved around the other, an ease almost with a laugh in his tone. “I know you’re quicker then that.” 

Inhaling deeply, you tried to focus more. Watch his actual movements and not what everything else was saying he was about to strike with. So far, you hadn’t had once instance to put him at the disadvantage. Knowing he could see you were trying to focus, almost coming to get close to a hit on him twice, both times he seemed to get you turned around. Certainly he was indeed the one who taught you how to fight with smoothness and not strength. Only he had both which was the problem. 

Glancing up at his curious gaze, you tilted your head down to your attire. “You wear the dress next time and tell me it’s easy to be quick.” 

Only, he too had a quick trick up his sleeve that wasn’t part of the rules. Finding your stride for only a few moments before Jon came close, and instead of making a hit, chose rather to grab at the flowing skirt of your dress. Yanking you right up into his chest as the chilling cold of the metal on the sword begun to drift flat along the insides of your calf and thighs, taking the edges right up along with it just enough to have you fluster in an instant. 

Jon’s voice only a husking deepness as his eyes drifted down for a second to your lips and further along what he could see. “I’d rather rip yours right off you.”

The dullness of a practice sword posing nothing to feel shaking nerves about, instead finding it in how strongly you felt a flush in your veins grow hot and begging as you failed to find the right way to turn the situation on it’s head. Instead one hand had pressed up against the leathers on his chest as the other tried to keep a firm grip of your own sword. “Here, where anyone could see? A bold move, my King.” 

Oh did his eyes grow a full tint darker. Much more freely looking down at what he could see of your figure with a raw lust before leaning close again, his breath hot across your skin a he spoke deep in your ear. The hand which had your dress bunched in his fist let loose, sliding around now to your back and pulling you closer. Knowing you had not the right grip of your own weapon to over power him before he could you. “What about you? You going to let everyone see? No protest to someone walking by, watching me take you right here?”

The cool touch of the practice sword almost tracing along your inner thighs as if it were a teasing touch, his mouth drifting shamelessly to bite your neck. The hand flat on his chest begging to drift up to run through his hair but he had you pressed too close to his front to move. Your other hand very slowly shifting how you held your weapon as you spoke through strained, biting back moan. “Maybe I just know better then to fight back.” A hum in his throat as he soothed over the sting from his teeth with a gentle press of his lips. “Men are vile, dangerous things. A girl such as myself knows better then to fight back when she’s at the mercy of a man like you.” 

His arm around your back pulled you closer, his other hand losing any purpose in it’s trace along your skin. Giving another growling bite to a lower spot on your neck, pulling a high gasp that almost was too loud in need. His rasp muffled against you, “And what kind of man am I?” 

A few answers rung out, but just as you spoke gently leaning more into his curls to mutter it, his grip tightened. “A brute who lets his guard down.” Twisting right out of his grasp Jon pushed back against your counter with a bit more aggression before he overwhelmed you enough he could snatch your sword right from your hand. 

Tossing it to the side with a clang, he then snatched you and flipped to pull your back into his chest. An arm wrapped around your front keeping your own under his, and the other gently letting his practice sword rest at your neck. This time his rasp was deep and rumbling in your ear, his arm pulling you back more as you almost let out a tiny gasp, feeling him press his hardening, covered cock into your ass. A shiver flew down your spine. “Maybe this brute should drag you back to his cabin. All alone in the woods. Strip you bare, mount you on top of my bed and claim you over and over until you’re crying anytime I try to stop.” Your breathing picked up drastically as he rumbled in your ear. “Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

His free hand sat flat across your stomach, pushing your hips back into his covered cock more as he stepped forward into the plushness of your ass. You partially tried to turn to look back at him, “Sounds more wolf then man if you ask me.” 

His head dropped again, moving the sword down to drop before tightly holding your hip, his teeth and lips finding more home in your neck. His strength alone was powerful enough to keep you in place. “That would make you my mate, you know.” His grip tightening as you shivered against him. “And a wolf has a duty to fill his mate with a nice, litter of pups.” 

Jon once more felt that sensation as if the two of you were being watched, but you shook more in his touch and a whine sat so close to leaving your throat he tossed the feeling away for now. You close to forgetting that you were out where any could see, leaned back heavily into his touch grasping at what you could of his forearm. Jon suspected you didn’t even quite realize how desperate you sounded or what you were even asking for. “Jon, please...” 

Unable to stop the thoughts, all Jon could do was growl in his head, oh he will. He’ll fill you deep with his seed as many times as you could take it, and Jon was slowly uncovering just how much of his seed, how much of that intensity you could take.

You discovering how much you felt like your life held true purpose when Jon would kiss you, touch you, and take you again and again. Making it to the room you both were staying in was going to be a true test of will power at this rate. 

Forgetting the rumours haunting you, for as long as Jon was as bare as you were? Hips grinding roughly against yours, his thick cock thrusting deep inside you, as his hands gently interlocked his fingers with yours, pressing them with a need into the sheets at the side of your head? Well, it seemed like nothing else existed in problems or mind but you and him.

Some nights, it felt as if truly all you and Jon had in this world anymore, was each other. 

[vennilavee]

"please come back in one peice" omg i would DIE

a drabble for the soul of a flame warnings: none, some suggestive content

Levi hardly ever sleeps over, and when he does, you never want to sleep. You want to hang on to every precious second with him, ignore the sun rising over the moon and just lay in your cocoon with him. But for his sake, you sleep. So that he sleeps- he has trouble sleeping as it is.

You won’t be a reason for him to not sleep right before another expedition outside of the walls.

In the morning, the air is still. You bury yourself further into your comforter and nuzzle into Levi’s hold over your waist. You don’t want to let him go, not really. If you just stay in bed for another five minutes, maybe you can convince yourself that this was a strawberry pink dream…

But you can’t go back to sleep, not when Levi looks the way he does. Dark circles under his eyes have considerably lightened ever since sleeping with you and he looks relaxed. Strands of silky hair fall effortlessly to his forehead and you can’t help but push them away easily. His lips are pouty even in his sleep, and a little chapped. Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip without thinking, Levi catches your wrist in his hand.

His eyes are still closed and you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he’s awake if he wasn’t holding your wrist.

“Good morning,” Levi murmurs, voice still thick with sleep.

It’s the dawn of a new day, and in less than four hours, he’ll be out of the door. He’ll be outside of the walls, face to face with a danger that you can’t even conceive. Selfishly, you wonder why it has to be him. You wonder if he could ever choose a full life with you.

“Morning,” You say softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. Levi hums, finally peeling his grey eyes open and meeting your sleepy, brown eyes. He pulls you closer to him, lazily draping a leg over yours and kissing you properly in greeting.

He still tastes like tea and mint. You try to hang on to it for as long as you can. Levi kisses you lazily, as if he has all of the time in the world. You know he doesn’t. He knows he doesn’t.

You say nothing, only kissing him back fervently. As if he’ll disappear if you don’t. Which he just might. You memorize the feel of his lips, the chapped ridges that fit between yours. Your grip is urgent, arms tight around him and you press yourself as close to him as you can. To mold into him. 

Levi slots himself between your legs easily and pushes your nightgown up at your waist. His weight over you is a welcome one, his hands squeezing your thighs. To commit the feeling to his memory. He kisses down your clothed chest, relishing in your quiet sighs before running a hand over your core. You shiver, he looks at you with a glint in your eye and your sighs melt into moans as you let him love you.

You had only had time for a shower and a quick breakfast with him, but that was okay. He had to be back at headquarters soon, to get ready to leave for the expedition.

Levi watches you curiously, eyes trained on your back as you flit around to make yourself busy. You’re uncharacteristically quiet, as you usually are. But this time seems different. He can see something floating behind your brown eyes, something shining at the surface. Waiting to be spoken, to be said out loud in a whisper, as a confession.

“Come here,” Levi demands softly, patting his thigh. You turn around, looking like a newborn deer as you hesitantly make your way to him.

You sink into his lap, arms wrapping around his head instantly. Levi curls a hand around your cheek, eyes dancing with amusement at the soft gasp that comes out of your mouth. He pushes his lips to yours greedily, hands moving to your waist and squeezing.

You like that. He knows you do.

“What is it?” Levi asks, forehead pressed against yours.

“Hmm?” You ask, about to press your lips to his again.

“You’re quiet this morning,” Levi says.

“Nothin’ gets passed you, huh?” You mutter. Levi flicks your forehead in response.

“What is it?” He prompts again, squeezing your waist.

“Just…” You murmur, “Please come back to me in one piece.”

Levi exhales. “I can’t promise you that. You know I can’t.”

“I know. Promise me anyway.”

tags: @simpingmaize