#i made them just because he looked like a pathetic little meow meow

[henrysfox]

nicholas galitzine and his lil meow meow energy in chambers (2019)

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

The green eyed monster

Shen Qingqiu gets a kitten. Luo Binghe isn't very happy about it.

Luo Binghe is angry. Bitter. Miffed. Pissed off. Displeased. Inconvenienced.

Jealous.

This is ridiculous!

He is the Demon Realm's Emperor, he is- he defeated the Abyss!

He is the best husband anyone could ever have, Shizun has never even seen the laundry basin once! Let alone the kitchen! The brooms neither!

So why isn't he that is being cuddled and kissed on the head and receiving pats?! Where is his affection?!

It's all the fault of that stupid, useless furry animal, that pathetic kitten Shizun found meowing its head off in the bamboo forest a few weeks ago, a palm sized black creature with wide, scared eyes and a voice loud enough to echo in the whole Cang Qiong Mountain!

Of course, Shizun is so kind and loving, he couldn't have left that screaming beast to die there, especially since it was so small, so he scooped it up, placed it in his lapels (in his lapels! On his chest!) and brought it back to the bamboo house.

The terrible beast lapped up all the food it could get amd purred loud enough to drown out any conversation, cuddling up to Shen Qingqiu obsessively, sticking its face against his as if demanding kisses.

And Shen Qingqiu gave them to it! Willingly! Smiling!

Luo Binghe was going to die of rage.

The beast had even nestled in their bed - "Binghe, she's too small to sleep alone!" - and in order "not to jostle it", Shen Qingqiu had apologetically told his husband they could have sex later, the kitten needed a "safe, warm place to sleep".

The audacity of that ball of pathetic black fluff to curl up on Shen Qingqiu's chest after made Luo Binghe burn inside with rage. That was his spot!

Ever since that night, the beast had become a part of their daily lives, and Luo Binghe hated it. Shen Qingqiu was doing everything with it, keeping it in his lapels or on his lap, playing with it with his brush handles and kissing it constantly.

Kissing!

Only Binghe should get Shizun's attention, anyway, but kisses?!

He decided that the animal had to go.

Keyword: he.

Because Shen Qingqiu had visibly recoiled at the idea of sending the kitten back outside or building her a shelter in the bamboo forest, no matter how pathetically Binghe suggested it.

In fact, the way Shizun looked, so protective but so heartbroken at the thought of being separated from his pet filled Binghe with so much guilt he wished to jump into the Abyss again.

Which brings us to the present.

Shen Qingqiu is attending some peak lord meeting the details of which Luo Binghe forgot because he's been too busy staring at Shizun's lips as he spoke about it to pay attention - and he has left the beast into Binghe's care for the day.

"Make sure you give her some food by mid-day, okay?" Shen Qingqiu had said, picking up the animal to kiss its small, inky nose. The thing purred. PURRED! "And play with her lots, she's so active!"

"Yes, Shizun, please don't worry, I'll do my best..."

"If anything happens, just come get me, okay? She's so small, so I worry..."

Binghe has to fight the impulse to roll his eyes at the memory. The beast is doing quite well running around, wreacking havoc. Why does it have so much energy? Binghe is sick of cleaning up after it. And it meows so much, the noise is hurting his ears.

Could it be so bad if he accidentally left a window open...?

He immediately squashes the thought. Shizun would be devastated!

So what was he to do now?

He just watched the ball of black fluff flurry around the bamboo house like it's possessed by demons. What a terrible thing. Why does Shizun love it so much? It's just a pathetic little thing without a family or a purpose, abandoned by its kind, that fell in love with the first person that gave it a modicum of affection!

Binghe resolutely refuses to think who that reminds him of.

But the little beast is not easily swayed. It seems to know Binghe dislikes it, so it sticks to his side constantly. It sleeps on his face sometimes, or attacks his ankles when he cooks, even licks his hand when it wants pets.

Binghe hates it.

But he does it anyway - for Shizun's sake! He couldn't care less about this puny creature!

...so, you may wonder, why is he playing with it now that Shizun is not here?

That is because Shizun might realize the kitten hasn't been entertained properly and scold Binghe of course! Sure, he did laugh a bit when the kitten tumbled on its tail as it tried to catch the feather Binghe dangled in front of it, and he found it funny how it reached for his hands to bite at his wiggling fingers - but that doesn't mean anything.

Binghe flicks a finger in the little kitten's face, and instead of flinching, it sniffs his finger pad curiously before rubbing its face against it.

Disgusting.

Binghe scratches beneath its chin with a long nail and catches himself smiling as the kitten purrs and closes its eyes contently.

Terrible.

The kitten ducks its head beneath Binghe's finger and he rolls his eyes. "So needy, does Shizun spend all his days spoiling you?"

"Mrow."

He huffs, but runs his hand over the kitten's head indulgently. "You always hog all his attention, how much do you even need, huh?"

The kitten purrs loudly in response as it rubs up against Binghe's gentle hand, and he can't help caressing down the kitten's small body.

"You're too small. Why don't you grow up, hm? You're making Shizun worry."

The kitten chirps, then continues to purr, pleased, climbing up Luo Binghe's chest from his lap. But the travel up is treacherous and the kitten nearly slips - Binghe's quick reflexes catch it though.

"Be careful. How clumsy. If you get hurt, Shizun won't forgive me."

The kitten continues its journey undettered and finally nestles into the junction between Binghe's neck and shoulder. Its small body is warm and vibrating with loud purrs, and it occasionally turns to sniff at Binghe's face and lick it.

"Stop that." He says, without any bite, and scratches between the kitten's ears with two of his fingers. The animal seems to take that as encouragement and pushes its head against Luo Binghe's cheek.

He turns his head to meet small, green eyes and a purring, black nose.

He cannot resist the impulse to lay a kiss over the kitten's forehead.

Maybe she isn't so bad, after all.

--

"Binghe, I'm-"

When Shen Qingqiu walks into the room, his mouth closes and his eyes soften with fondness. Sat on the bamboo couch, clearly waiting for him, Luo Binghe's head is angled to a side, the small, black kitten tucked into his shoulder and serving as the tiniest pillow in the world. They are both asleep, wearing matching expressions of content and relaxation.

Shen Qingqiu wished he had his camera right now.

[feefivefoe]

I fear that they would figure me out too quickly. I am so easily manipulated by someone acting pathetic 😔😔

The whole little brother act by Damian would get to me sooner or later and I fear that although Tim is 19, I would feel bad if he came to me after a "nightmare" 😞😞

I just hope that they don't play dirty, because I would be COOKED 😭😭

No you're so valid. I too like to baby pathetic meow meows.

But in my head, reader has to be unempathetic and uncaring because you don't live long in a city like Gotham by being sympathetic.

Caring about people is for those who have the luxury of resources to share. Bleeding hearts get snuffed out. And while reader isn't clinging to life, they aren't going out of their way to get killed.

But unfortunately for folks like you, at least half of the batboys are willing to be pathetic if it means getting the upper hand.

Dick and Tim have no shame. Both of them will cry while clinging to you about just how WORRIED they were about you. And how SAD they are that you HATE them soooo much! Won't you give your dear brothers just a sliver of affection?

Dick will try to monopolize you at times by being physically clingy. The others are just so much more touch adverse, and his love language is physical touch! He's just so sad that he can't properly express how much he loves his siblings! Won't you let him give you the affection he had failed to give for so long? He has so much to make up for! 🥰🥰🥰

Tim is a little more adaptable. Rather than pushing you into the mold he makes, he molds himself to your sympathetic nature. Not only did he have a nightmare, but he just finds it so hard to sleep while he's thinking about all the bad things happening in Gotham...won't you let him sleep in your room? Being around his (now) favorite sibling helps keep his mind at rest! And he's so sleep deprived...don't you want your little brother to get some rest? 🥺🥺🥺

Damian and Jason are much more reluctant to join in. They have more pride than that. And while Jason might be willing if you were mad at him like you were the others...he's already your favorite, he doesn't need to stoop so low. If he does find your attention slipping, he might 'unintentionally' trauma dump about how his death felt, his final thoughts, how the pit makes him feel...inhuman. About how Bruce made him feel abandoned, just like he did to you. What better way to firmly strengthen his position than trauma bonding, right?

Damian takes the longest to come around. Sure, he's the baby. And sure, he kind of played into it by insisting on strengening your familial bond. But he isn't a child! (Damian, you literally are-)

While the others infantilize themselves in a way to get your favor, Damian does it by doing the opposite. Don't look at him as somebody who needs coddling! He's going to look after you, because you're the one who needs him, not the other way around. You live such a better life now that he found you and got the others to bring you home. He'd never admit it, but he's envious of the attention the others get, but isn't willing to throw away his pride to do the same. He does have an advantage by being the youngest. You can't help but naturally baby him a little! And the scowl and scolding he gives every time does nothing to deter you!

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (23)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: M'Baku

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, polyamory, fluff, angst, implied character’s death, gore (blood, multiple stabbing), implied torture

Indecent Proposal (22)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

Please heed the warnings for this part!

“What do think, Alpine? Will your daddies come back soon? It’s been a few hours now,” you press the white furball to your chest. You nuzzle the cat’s head and sigh. “You’re very fluffy. No wonder Bucky likes you so much.”

Alpine allows you to place them in your lap. The cat repeatedly nuzzles your swollen belly and purrs low in its throat. “You like the babies already, huh? I bet you will love it when they grab you with their chubby hands.”

You chuckle. “Be patient, sweetie. They won’t hurt you, promised. Maybe they want to cuddle you. You’re just so…fluffy and pretty.”

Kissing the cat’s head you sniffle. “Do you think they are alright? I hope so. I can’t raise two kids knowing their daddies are…” You shake your head. “No. We don’t think about it, Y/N. Steve and Bucky promised to come back to you, and they will.”

Alpine lifts its head to look at you. The white furball meows loudly before lying back down. “You think so too, right Alpine? Soon they will be back.”

“Come on, do your worst,” Rumlow laughs in Bucky’s face. He knows this is the end, but he won’t go down crying. “I have the truth on my side.”

“You see,” Bucky presses the tip of his knife into Rumlow’s chest, drawing the first droplets of blood. “I get that you wanted to avenge the woman you loved.” He circles Rumlow, while M’Baku aims his handgun at his head to make sure Rumlow doesn’t try anything stupid.

“I would’ve done the same if anyone harmed Steve, and I did,” Bucky stops right in front of Rumlow to ram his knife into the man’s shoulder. Rumlow winces when Bucky twists the knife. “I showed mercy when she tried to get rid of my husband.”

“Mercy,” Rumlow spits in Bucky’s face. “She’s dead!”

“Yeah, because that bitch was batshit crazy!” M’Baku growls. “Bucky and I had to drag her off Steve! She was like a feral animal only because Bucky’s dick was too good.”

“Thanks, man,” Bucky laughs at M’Baku’s comment. “I appreciate your praise, but we have more important things to do right now.”

“Buck—” Steve huffs.

“What I tried to tell you is that I understand where you are coming from, Rumlow,” Bucky slides the knife back out. He watches the blood paint Rumlow’s shirt red.

“But, you didn’t go after us,” Steve rams another knife into Rumlow’s side, stabbing him twice before retracting the knife. “You tried to not only kill our wife, but our unborn children too.”

“Stop toying with that piece of shit. He’s not worth your time. Bastard tried to kill the sweet woman and her babies because his girlfriend found a better dick and went crazy.”

In the background, the rest of the men chuckle. M’Baku is not wrong. There is no use in wasting time on Rumlow and his unjustified revenge campaign.

Rumlow wheezes, he feels lightheaded. He’s close to passing out when Bucky slaps him across the face. “Don’t you dare pass out on me? You won’t get away so easily. What kind of man goes after a woman and her unborn babies?”

“A pathetic little man not getting over the fact his woman wanted something more than him,” Steve wraps his hand around Rumlow’s throat from behind. “You see, no one gets in between me, Bucky, and Y/N. Not you. Not your girl. No one.”

“You made one mistake,” Bucky twirls the knife before stabbing Rumlow’s other shoulder, “you came to our town and tried to hurt what belongs to us.”

“You don’t hurt a woman to avenge another,” Steve whispers in Rumlow’s ear as he slowly sinks his knife into Rumlow’s back. “Do you know why Bucky let her go after she tried to kill me?” He twists the knife meanly. “Because he would never hurt a woman.”

“To be fair, I killed that fake nurse,” Bucky smirks darkly. He twists the knife, earning a yelp from Rumlow. “I don’t know if it was your idea, or hers. But that one is on you. I’d never killed her if she didn’t try to kill our wife and babies.”

“Buck let’s end this,” Steve looks at his husband. He doesn’t want to drag Rumlow’s end out. “We are done here, aren’t we.”

“Not yet…”

You hear voices, and then heavy footsteps. Your heartbeat quickens and you hold your breath. Is this the moment you’ve been waiting for, or did your men’s enemies win the upper hand?

“Alpine, you punk,” Bucky curses in front of the bedroom. “Why are you wearing a diamond necklace? Hey, did you rob our wife?”

Steve chuckles while his husband fights with Alpine over the necklace. “Well, it suits the furry beast.”

“STEVIE! BUCKY!” You open the door to look at your men. Bucky is busy tugging at the necklace around Alpine’s neck while Steve watches his husband with amusement. “You’re back!”

Looking them up and down you frown. They look uninjured and are in a good mood. It seems everything went according to plan. “Why did you not call? Me and Alpine were worried sick. You missed lunch, and dinner!”

Hands on your hips you rant about missed dinners, worrying you and the poor cat, and anything in between.

“Aw, we have missed you too, Y/N,” Steve takes the chance to hug you first. His husband is still busy scolding the poor cat for stealing your necklace. “I see you found a way to kill the time.”

“Alpine kept me company. Giving the pretty kitty my diamond necklace was the least I could do. Doesn’t Alpine look good? I brushed their fur, and we watched movies together.” You hide your face in Steve’s chest, inhaling his scent deeply. “You smell good, Stevie.”

“I smell good too, baby doll,” Bucky pecks your neck. He hides that Steve and he showered and changed clothes after disposing of Rumlow’s body. “How can we make things up to you?”

You smirk. “I know a way…”

Part 24

Tags in reblog.

[wszczebrzyszynie]

Uhhhh ur space mining au is my absolute favourite thing😭💙

I was wondering why Tango's hair changed colour after the moon incident, and why it was singed!（It made him so much more of a pathetic meow meow.

Thank you for all the amazing art!

The actual reason why his hair changed colour is because i wanted to include dungeon masters design in the au. But lore wise thats just what sculk infection does, as Cub has grey stripes and blue eyes (and i mean entire eyes, not just irises) after his accident as well. The scars on Cubs face are from the infection as well; his skin got eaten, in a wau. In Tangos case its mostly his hands that are scarred.

Things look different with Zedaph, as he wasnt really infected? He was working with already dead sculk. Which is why he didnt suffer the typical sculk infection effects, and instead started "splitting", which is... what it looks like. His body keeps splitting. It mostly affected his eye (ruining his sight completly) and skin. I changed his design a little bit; i wanted to keep his horns, but from ram horns i changed them to still growing warden horns. In the end Zedaph manages to stop the sculk effects with the help of Tango, but the body changes are irreversible.

As for his burned hair, he just has a tendency to blow things up. Very much an accident kind of thing. I am well aware thats not how burned hair looks like but its more fun this way. Burned exploded Tango by @akuroshi1

Thank you for the kind words :)

[darlingofvalyria]

❝—Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!❞

part 02 | baby, all you gotta do is trust me

chapter summary:

[ Cregan is a menace in bed (sexily), Aemond is a menace on social media (derogatory), Helaena is a menace (lovingly). ]

[ 4,715 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— smutty beginnings, a bit angsty, mostly fluff - nsfw: p & v sex, orgasm denial, degradation kink, mating press - lemme just introduce you to firefighter!cregan stark ahe - toxic alysmond but both of them are at fault, fwb situations, fake dating, slow-ish burn - sad sack aemy is a pathetic meow meow - viserys i has a spank kink, no i will not elaborate further - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— it's entirely my fault, i know. i made cregan too hot. aemond might be a bit op w/ his relationship with reader, but he & her have a comfortable past...soz. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

There's this thing that Cregan does with his hips.

It's always that sweet spot when your legs are either over his shoulders or haphazardly splayed against his waist, wide open as he drilled into you like a miner trying to find gold (and he would argue that in fact, your orgasms are gold to him)—

There's that moment when he feels you clenching, when you're so close to the precipice of seeing heaven that the motherfucker of the North slows down, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, he slows down enough at the haze of you reaching orgasm where he just.

Produces waves across his body, keeping a slow, toe-curling momentum with his hips, body-waving his dick in and out of you in a slow but purposeful movement— and he's smirking down atyou're fucked out state growing irritated doing something for him.

And before you're truly out of that orgasmic state, about to curse his entire bloodline of ruined orgasms forever or push him off his own godsdamned bed and break his stupidly good penis, he's bracing himself against the side of your head, laughing— not meanly, just amused, the asshole —and asks, almost like he's just asking you for the weather, "Does the pretty little slut want to cum?"

And he's not really asking, because he's grasped your thighs, shoving you into a mating press, and having you see stars in seconds.

"You think my neighbours called 911?" he muses, fixing his hair while in front of the floor length mirror in his room as you lounge about lazily on his bed, already washed and dressed for your own shift at Meleys, sans your pants. That's still in the living room from where Cregan yanked it.

"Hm?" you ask idly, not really focused on the conversation as you scrolled through IG, rolling your eyes at Aegon's post; Hel's big brother was in Ibiza getting sun-tanned in the morning (as much as his pale as fuck skin could tan) and getting it down at clubs at night, liking it nevertheless.

"Your scream at the end there was so loud, I'm pretty sure you broke Mrs. Beesbury out of her coma." You look up at Cregan's menace of a grin, playful and goofy in his tight shirt and thick work pants for his shift at the fire station. "I might be expecting five jars of honey from Mr. Beesbury as thanks."

You roll your eyes at him, laughing. He always got like this post-orgasm; loose and goofy and prone to making the dumbest jokes. It's cute, and on a good day, it does it for you.

It's not like you don't find Cregan attractive. It's how you got into this FWB situation with him in the first place; the dark hair, the scruff on his face, the firefighter bod— and by the Seven, what. A. Bod — when he and his co-workers stumbled into Meleys two months back, seeing your former high school crush aged up and hot had you on your knees for him in the back alley faster than he can hold you from the roots of your hair and grunt.

On a good day, it's easy to see getting past the easy arrangement of sending emojis to alert you wanna get dicked down and him sending a tongue and a heart, sending memes just for the hell of it at random parts of the day— breaking the easy friendship, the nice arrangement, and see where it gets you two, with Stark. On a good day, you can be submerge in the what-if, cute couple-y scenarios and giggle.

But despite the orgasm that could shatter a septa's vows quicker than you can say 'Oh holy Mother', your good day was tentative, broken with a click.

Aemond had made his first social media post since breaking up (the latest one) with Alys.

A darkened bathroom with explicit, orange-glowed lights that covered most of his person but not the slick show of water, freshly showered, against his torso, his chest, his abs. Droplets clung in places one would imagine licking him all over.

You know that bathroom to be the one in his high class gym, one of his favourite places. Since the toxic cycle with Alys started, he frequented it more. Aemond Targaryen was a man of routines and sharp o'clocks, so you know this isn't particularly off-key for him. But the posing (mostly) completely bare with water on his wiry muscles?

"Oh, this whore." You can't help it, as much as it irritated you— because it is clearly a means to get it across that he is newly single without actually saying anything, you can just imagine his DMs firing up with notifs — you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.

Aemond Targaryen. Publicly posting a thirstrap.

As public as his social media can get, it's a private account with less than 200 people.

A call rings in your phone, Helaena's face flashing, and you're still giggling when she half-shrieks, "DID YOU SEE HIS IG STORY OH MY GOD."

Your gaze meets Cregan, his bushy, dark eyebrows firing upward upon being able to hear Hel's voice while you winced. You put her on speaker as Cregan giddily comes closer to the phone.

"Good evening to you too, Helaena," you say warmly, giving Cregan's arm a light kick, mouthing, 'Don't you have work?'

Stark had the audacity to shush you, pressing a finger against his lips. You mouth, 'Gossip.' In a mature response, he stuck his tongue out.

Truly a wonder that not twenty minutes ago, this man had you keening over an orgasm.

Helaena continues on, "— I've had enough of this. I already have one slutty brother, I cannot have another one. There can only be two sluts in this family and no more. And that backlit? Seven hells, the whorishness."

"Hel, babe, you are not a slut." You meet eyes with Cregan who waggles his eyebrows, pursing his lips in an air kiss. "Trust me."

Hel snorts. "I know that, I meant my father. The whore of Babylon got nothing on Viserys first of his name, spank king extraordinaire."

If you could simultaneously choke on air and saliva, you would. "Helaena Targaryen!"

Cregan smacked his entire face down on his bed and ate his covers to muffle his laughter, his body shuddering as he did his best. His ass did look good in this view.

"What? Stranger may have mercy on me, but I tell you, before he died and before their marriage imploded, and at times traumatically problematic, they sure did get it freaky when they could. They gave it a good run and traumatised me in the process. I shouldn't have insisted my room was that close to them, maybe I would have ended up being an upstanding citizen of the community."

Cregan flips up, giggles spilling him as he muffled it with his hands. You kicked him again, trying to keep him away from your phone lest Hel figure out where you were again.

"Helaena, my love, compared to your brothers, you are such an upstanding person of the citizenry, the mayor should be giving you an award at this point."

"Right? Maiden have mercy, how busy do you think your shift is going to be tonight?"

You bit your lip guiltily while Cregan smirked, standing up as he finished lacing his boots. Hel thought you had gone straight to work, making up excuses about trying out a new recipe for next month. "Um. Not sure? Probably not by much, it's a weekday."

You don't lie, not really. Cregan mouths 'liar' and throw a pillow at him.

"Good, I'll send Aemond to you tonight. I already told him yesterday and he kind of just made a noncommittal hum— praise hands for another traumatised child of Alicent Hightower who has his own brand of communications issues —" You can just see Helaena's hard eye roll, and you massaged your lips to keep your laughter. The first time you met Hel, you never would have thought she slapped-back self-deprecating jokes out of her pockets faster than you can think a response to the last one. She was sweet, kind, a floral, bohemian girl with her pastel lavender pants and daisy flower clips.

And then you met her, vibed, and there was a dark funny humour to Helaena Targaryen that you always fought just bursting out laughter at the most inopportune of moments.

As sweet and floaty as she appeared, she was a menace.

"— anyway, Mr. Social Whore is going there later tonight, I made him promise. I said if you don't tell me he didn't come, I'm posting every photo I have of him from his naked baby pics to pre-pubescent Teen Teeny-Weeny Aemond, I do not care."

You whistle. "Damn, Hel, okay, I'll tell you when he comes."

"Good. OPLAN Get Aemond Out of This Bad Track Before He Fully Becomes Aegon 2.0 has now commenced. I love my brothers, I truly do, but I can only handle one Aegon at a time. I cannot be scrolling through social media in fear for my life times two, bestie, I refuse." Hel's voice pitches. "I'll talk to you later, bye, babe."

"Bye, Hel!"

Before you could put the phone down, she calls out, teasing, "BYE CREGAN!"

Silence. Then Cregan laughs, calling out, "Bye, Hel!"

The last thing either of you heard is her tinkling giggle before she drops the call.

"Fuck," you mutter, call finished.

Cregan wolf-whistles. "She's good."

You throw another pillow. "It's because you kept giggling like a schoolgirl!"

"Excuse me, that was a manly schoolgirl giggle, I'll have you know." He picks up his keys, winking. "Come on, I'll drop you off at the bar before I pole dance the night away to my job."

You cracked, snorting through the mental image of Cregan Stark, Lead Firefighter of the Ice Wolves Division, shaking his ass on the pole. You pad to the living room. "I'll give you a dollar for your troubles."

"Cheap ass!" he shouts after you.

Aemond arrives two hours into your shift, a little awkward— no doubt remembering your silent judgment of him the morning of his post-break up affair as that has also been the last interaction you've had with him before this, almost a week ago, and now here, meeting you at the insistence (and plotting) of his sister.

Your eyes meet ice water blue. He freezes, then straightens up, giving you a shrewd tilt forward. A nod. It's jerky, mechanical. You roll your eyes, mouth twitching, before you motion him over.

You are already making his favoured drink starter, Sazerac, when he slides into an empty seat on the bar. Your back is to him, refusing anymore interaction, and you know the usual comfort he finds in the eased silence you provide is nonexistent.

Out of all of Helaena's brothers, you've always liked Aemond the most. You teased him it was because the others are Aegon, duh, and Daeron, still in high school and never really around you "old people", but it's also because it's so easy to be around Aemond. When Helaena introduced you to the tall, lithe man who hummed politely at his sister's introduction of you, you found him intriguing.

It's not just the scarred eye, or the pretty, almost marble-statue visage (because by gods, seriously. The Mother took her sweet, loving time crafting the fourth Targaryen, bloody hell— like those cheekbones? With that cupid's bow lip? Okay, Mother, you have your favourites, we get it), or that he tended to keep himself in the background, let everyone else stretch into the conversation.

He often dipped in and out of the social pool like a mirage; a trick of the eye. A nod, a hum— almost, always an answer to someone else's direct question or someone— usually Aegon — dragging him into the conversation with an anecdote needing an input, not matter how inane.

And it intrigued you.

You took yourself and your drink of choice at the time— a Shirley Temple — and sat right beside him. He looked up at you, that one eye of violet widening slightly because you had just. Plopped beside him, thighs touching, before he smoothens out his expression, shifting at your direct eye contact and small smile.

"Can I... help you?" he finally asks, thoroughly waylaid but trying not to appear so.

"The scar." You nodded to his face as he froze. "Tell me about it."

His face had been so controlled, so guarded, when he tersely said, "My sister didn't tell you?"

"Nope. It's not something for her to tell me, isn't it? It's a personal thing. Most scars are." You shrugged. "Even if they aren't, I'd prefer if you tell me. It's your body. Your body your story."

He stared at you for a quarter of a minute before he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No, why?"

"You're too... forward."

You smirked. "I've been told. So are you telling me or nah, pretty boy?"

And he stared at you for a minute longer, or two, or three— the stare flickers to emotions so fast; shock, confusion, flatter, his own intrigue — before he told you about a stupid fight between children, about a stupid reason par another, and though his words had been concise, obviously keeping a hell of a lot more between vowels and tightened jaw, you don't press him. You let him talk.

At the end, you said, "Badass. Definitely less of a lame reason than what I was imagining, but 9/10 story. Your voice really sold most of it. It's good for telling stories."

In his brain, you could just see the click when his eyes flicked to his sister and back to you. Ah, so that's how they're friends. And he hums, truly, more than anything, stumped by you. And you smiled.

"You're definitely going to be my favourite Targaryen Brother."

It's no wonder then, that you two had gotten close. You had forced a friendship out of him, and the very unattached guy to literally anything new— suspicious of offerings, angry at pity, wary of kindness — had taken into it with a white flag.

So when the whole Alys situation happened, things shifted.

"Sazerac," you announce finally, placing the drink in front of him. He thanks you with a quiet hum, having stopped fidgeting now that you've acknowledged his existence. You raise your eyebrow as his sips turns to gulp, crossing your arms.

Just because you had promised Hel you were going to help him, doesn't mean you were going to make it easy for him. He knows you're pissed; despite the calm structure he had composed himself in, you can see the twitch in his fingers, the way his eye turned away from you the moment you refused to project your normal, warm aura with him.

He settles his drink down, watching the rim of the glass for a minute before he speaks, low and steady. "You're angry with me."

You snort softly. "Wonder why you think so?"

He sighs. "I didn't mean to. To let it get this... messy." He winces at the word, hating it.

You sigh. "Aemy." He comes alive at the familiar nickname, sitting straighter, a relief on the edge of a cliff. "Honestly, I don't give a shit. You want to be trapped in this mess? You don't want to listen to other people tellign you, 'hey dude, maybe no?'"

He winces, remembering the third time he and Alys had broken up. The police car, Aegon vomitting, Hel crying. It makes you roll your eyes.

"Sure, have at it. Have fun, in fact. There's only so much sympathy I can give you for seeking out the problem that you know is a problem before I get tired. Before I stop giving a shit, because there's someone else I love that is starting to get hurt by it. I can only love you enough as much as you are willing to help yourself." Your eyes then narrow, half-glaring into him. "But what I'm truly getting angry about is how much this is affecting Helaena."

"I understand." He sighs again, calling your name but you raise a hand.

"Hold on, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Okay."

You look at him. A second. He waits. And waits.

He speaks up. "Yes?"

You sigh. It's hard to stay mad at him, you've always found so. "I don't know. I had paragraphs to say to you in front of a mirror, but now that it's you I'm looking at, everything just went away." Under your breath, you mutter, "stupid pathetic meow, meow face."

His mouth twitch. Ah. The familiar Targaryen smugness. Pinch Cocky Aemond is back. "Did my face distract you too much, ñuha riña my lady?"

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smile. If you called him Aemy, he called you the High Valyrian, his ancestral tongue, my lady. To tease, to establish comfort. You've always liked this better, being closer to Aemond than despising him for his stupid choices and big feelings he has a hard time unraveling, so he makes said stupid choices.

It's ease, it's familiarity, and you both fall into a high step.

"Okay, nerd, so what did Hel—" A customer calls you. "—One sec. Sorry about that, what can I get you? Ooh, nice choice, alright give me a minute." As you pulled a measuring cup and gin, you nod back to Aemond. "What did Hel tell you we're doing exactly?"

"That you're helping me... with Alys." A hesitance. "I know you don't like her—"

"— whoa, hold up, Aemy, I like her. I like her very much. I think she's a bad bitch, absolutely sexy, and clearly, she has good tastes which I respect her for." He had the good graces to blush, still sort of unused by the compliments you so freely give him. "What I don't like is how your relationship with her— here, hey, you're welcome! — has evolved. You were so good with each other, Aemy. And then..."

You mimic a sound of a crash and burn, and a tiny person screaming. He huffs out a laugh before sobering.

"I know." He sighs. "I don't... I don't understand it myself. There's a part of me that recognises I should walk away. And then there's another part that is just... it's Alys."

His palms, open and upturned, falls on the counter. Pensive. Begging. A confused, wanting penitent looking up at a god asking for direction. "I've loved her for so long." His voice quiets, like the words are sacred.

"I've loved her for so long," he repeats as if the words have worn itself out on his tongue, "it's hard to see past her. Ñuha riña, she has always been my future. It's all her. I don't know anything else outside of her."

You pour an Arbor Gold in a stemmed glass and pushes it to him. It's his favourite drink and he smiles at you, at the care, at the memories.

"I understand that," you say carefully. "And I already promised Hel I'd do it, whatever you need of me, to make her see you. But you should know that I'm doing this more for her than for you because... Aems, I believe you deserve so much more. A love that's exciting without it being harmful. A love that's pretty, as easy as breathing. One that doesn't hurt at the edges and pinches like a barbed wire."

"Is that possible for me?" he asks ironically, trying for a joke but you catch that lilt at the end. At that exhale. So much of his history had been broached by pain, borne from it. There are injuries that run so deep, they continue to bleed.

"Honestly?"

He places the wineglass down. "Yes."

You smile. "Yes."

You don't know if he believes you, or if he just indulges in your starry-eyed view of his future, but he smiles nevertheless, as best as he can and murmurs a gratitude.

It's pacifying, insecurity. You let it go for now because there's nothing you can say to a person truly down to trust your words.

"You're going to do this, then?" he asks. "For Alys and I?"

You shake your head. "I'm doing this for Hel and no chores for a month." And you, to show you that there's more past a future that you and I both know doesn't exist anymore. That if you prolong it, ignore how deep the barbed wire has gotten into your skin, it'll be too hard to untangle it when you realised you've bled out enough.

So will you just wear the pain proudly after that?

You shake another order in place, pulling ice and mint. You raise an eyebrow. "I've always known I was going to help. Are you willing to do this? Honestly Aemy, this can go two ways. One, she'll realise losing you is the worst thing that can ever happen— truly losing you to someone else, or two, she thinks you're truly moving on from her. And that's assuming she even thinks it's real, like I mean come on, it's me and you."

He arches a perfect silver eyebrow. You had already asked him if he gets his eyebrows done, and apart from Helaena messing with him back in high school, has been all natural. You think he's lying.

"And what is me and you?"

"Aemy, come on. I'm your sister's best friend. We're like... I dunno, family? She's always known that."

"Doesn't mean she's never felt jealous of you," he hums, swirling his wine with pinch fingers. It's elegant. Entrancing. The red liquid swirls and there are knots and strain in his hand, going through his arm.

And despite the bags under his eye, he still looks so good. Silvery blond hair wrapped in a low half updo, the shirt that hid nothing of his muscled chest.

His words sink in, breaking you from the hypnotizing reverie of looking at a marbled statue. "What? She felt jealous of me?"

He smiles gently, a little bit cockily. "Ñuha riña. Of course she did. Just because she understood your place in my life, in Hel's, doesn't erase the fact that you're gorgeous and we get along well. She liked you, truly, but she isn't blind. It's nothing that you've done, even she knew that. You're just too perfect."

You blink at him, unable to stop yourself from blushing. He chuckles meanly.

"Shut up."

He exhales a laugh. "I didn't say anything!"

"You know what you did." You give him the stink eye before you serve two more customers, thanking at a pretty hefty tip from one of your regulars, bidding him goodnight as he left. It is a slow night, you didn't lie to Helaena.

You almost don't catch Aemond murmuring, "I've missed this. I've missed you. I never like it when you're pissed at me."

"Good," you joke. "So you can watch yourself better. But yeah, I've missed you too. So how are we doing this?"

"I thought you had an idea, having agreed to Hel's plan before I even knew there was a plan."

You roll your eyes. "Well, I've had a few ideas here and there... it's more your comfort I'm worried about."

He frowns, pouty lips pursing. "My comfort?"

You place your palms behind the bar and hitch yourself up by your physical strength. He leans forward, confused still. You smirk. "Well, Aemy, I'm wearing a skirt."

"I... I don't know what that means, ñuha riña." He blinks his one good eye. "Nice skirt? You look pretty."

You force a pout instead of getting flustered by the compliment out of the blue. "I forgot you weren't all that popular in high school."

"No need for insults," he deadpans.

You laugh. "We're going to make Alys jealous, right? It'll be too much to hard launch my new status of existence in your life when you just broke up... but... if we can allude, at least..."

"I-" His frown deepens, the skin on his other eye, the scar, pinches as you see his mind whirr and whirr where your mind was reaching. "I'm still confused."

"Gods, alright, I'll just show you."

"Dude, bro, just put your hand under my skirt—"

"Ñuha riña—"

"Yeah, you know what, godsfuckingdamnit, if I alienate you that bad just shove your fist up my skirt, yes, Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!"

He calls your name, tips of his ears beet red, as a few patrons turn to you two, bewildered and a little amused. You wave at them but you sigh noisily at him. You're sat beside him on the counter, your phone on one hand with the camera app open, and you're glaring at him.

"Are you seriously telling me you've never placed your hand on Alys' thigh?"

"Of course I have!" He lets out a strangled sigh and groan.

"What's the difference?"

"I've never done it so publicly," he explains as calmly as possible, as if he's talking to a child. "And with the idea of posting it for everyone else to ogle. I've always just done it... under a table. Or. On her knee..."

"You're blushing so hard, you look like a tomato?" You snort. "I'm your fake Alys now, and we're soft launching an intimate relationship. This is basic."

"You're not my fake Alys. You're not my fake anytihng and you're not Alys." he says seriously, frown sharpening into a point before he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can't it just be my hand over yours?"

 You frown, forgoing the uncomfortable twinge from not my anything and not Alys. "Is this uncomfortable for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"It's not that, never that." He purses his lip. "It's the opposite. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with my touch."

"Aemy," you say softly, smiling slightly. "I am giving you permission. Wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. And you touching me has never made me uncomfortable. Now, come on. Hand on my thigh, pretty boy, so I can take this pic and get the ball rolling."

There's a second more of restraint, of holding back, and before you sigh and suggest something else— maybe he is truly uncomfortable with you, with you not being anything to him, and not being Alys, but is too polite to say anything — he places his palm, warm and heavy, against your exposed thigh.

It's a... new sensation. You've held hands with Aemond before, smacked it a few times even, but it's different when it's on a more... well, when it's not on a non intimate area of your body. New skin, new nerve endings to his familiar warmth and crease.

It makes you swallow how big his hand is compared to your whole ass thigh. Thumb to pinky and he nearly swallows the gaps.

He really has pretty hands. Knotted veins twisting upward to muscled arms.

Both of you nestle in the quiet, just staring at his hand over your thigh.

"Okay," he says, voice even. He's taller than you, always taller even when you're both sat down, and he's closer to the top of your head at this distance, his breath flutters against your hair. "What now?"

"I... take the picture." You blink, shaking your head slightly, as you take his drink and add your hand within the frame so it looks like you mean to take a photo of your drink and not the glaringly obvious hand on your thigh, before you you angle it. You take one, two, three. A few different angles before you feel you've got a few nice ones. "Okay, done."

It feels cold when he takes his hand away, giving your thigh a soft tap before it's back on the counter. He hums.

You get back on the work, choosing one and posting it promptly on your stories. You place Meleys' location and a kiss mark emoji before you post it.

"It does look intimate," Aemond hums, observing the story from his own phone. "But why did you post it on your account and not mine?"

"She's your ex, Aemy," you say, hopping off the chair and moving back behind the counter. The world re-orbits. Everyone back in their positions, the lines clear. The planets move in their normal trajectory again.

"She'll know it's your hand. And if we post it on mine, it has more of an impact, don't you think? We're friends on IG. She sees it on my stories, a man's hand on her thigh, in a background that's no doubt a bar. The hand is sorta familiar. And you posted that slutty mirror pic earlier tonight."

He blushes, you smirk. Planets and moons orbit back, their pace slow, their lightyears fast. Best friend's sister. Sister's best friend.

"If she doesn't recognise your hand at first, your story will prompt it on her brain. It's not a hard connection, you've been together for years. It's a girl thing. An exes thing. Bingo bango, the brain is running. Surely it isn't Aemond's hand? Even if it is... is it truly romantic?"

He exhales. "You're... kind of an evil genius."

"Just kind of? Damn." And you smile because he laughs, the sound spreading warmth across your chest.

Yeah, this is better. It always feels good when you and Aemond are on the same team, when you're not mad at him and vice versa, no matter how stupid the reason.

Saturn rings snap, black holes sink and swim in galaxies so far, far away.

You put your phone on DND as soon as the first five notifs pop up, prompting a barrage of other notifications. When you took a glance at it, it's all a varying degree of 'WHAT THE FUCK', 'WHO THE FUCK', and 'GO GET THAT DICK, GIRL OMG!!'

Only Helaena's message matters, and it brings a smile on your lips.

 'Noice'.

Another ping.

'Also— what a bunch of harlots'.

You show it to Aemond and both of you burst in stupid laughter.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr

[silmarillisms]

A Casual Reminder: Sauron Was Powerful

I'm not really sure why, but I've seen a lot of "Sauron was so pathetic, forever in Morgoth's shadow, what a baby" posts lately. And I do get it, I love the wet meow meow too.

But for all intents and purposes, Sauron does not fit the wet meow meow role. We are actually blatantly told that Sauron was greater in the Second Age than Morgoth was at his fall.

Sauron was ‘greater’, effectively, in the Second Age than Morgoth at the end of the First. Why? Because, though he was far smaller by natural stature, he had not yet fallen so low. Eventually he also squandered his power (of being) in the endeavour to gain control of others. But he was not obliged to expend so much of himself. To gain domination over Arda, Morgoth had let most of his being pass into the physical constituents of the Earth – hence all things that were born on Earth and lived on and by it, beasts or plants or incarnate spirits, were liable to be ‘stained’. Morgoth at the time of the War of the Jewels had become permanently ‘incarnate’: for this reason he was afraid, and waged the war almost entirely by means of devices, or of subordinates and dominated creatures. - Morgoth's Ring: Notes on Motives in the Silmarillion

The argument could be made that Sauron being greater at his height than Morgoth was at his fall doesn't mean much, but I would actually posit that it does, and for multiple reasons. Morgoth was the greatest of the Valar. Even in his decline, it took the whole host of the Valar invading from Aman and sinking Beleriand to defeat the armies that Morgoth had assembled - as well as Morgoth himself. It is no small feat for a Maia to amass that sort of power.

Let's take a look at the next paragraphs from the same essay in Morgoth's Ring:

Sauron, however, inherited the corruption of Arda, and only spent his (much more limited) power on the Rings; for it was the creatures of earth, in their minds and wills, that he desired to dominate. In this way Sauron was also wiser than Melkor-Morgoth. Sauron was not a beginner of discord; and he probably knew more of the Music than did Melkor, whose mind had always been filled with his own plans and devices, and gave little attention to other things. The time of Melkor's greatest power, therefore, was in the physical beginnings of the World; a vast demiurgic lust for power and the achievement of his own will and designs, on a great scale. And later after things had become more stable, Melkor was more interested in and capable of dealing with a volcanic eruption, for example, than with (say) a tree. It is indeed probable that he was simply unaware of the minor or more delicate productions of Yavanna, such as small flowers. Thus, as Morgoth, when Melkor was confronted by the existence of other inhabitants of Arda, with other wills and intelligences, he was enraged by the mere fact of their existence, and his only notion of dealing with them was by physical force, or the fear of it. His sole ultimate object was their destruction. - Morgoth's Ring: Notes on Motives in the Silmarillion

This is easily my favorite comparison between them. Sauron became Morgoth's right hand because, although Morgoth had power and ambition in spades, he lacked the mind for strategy that Sauron possessed. Sauron's strength lies in his clever plans, his manipulations, his deceptions. Just as it would have been for anyone else who wore it, the One Ring became Sauron's downfall because it blinded him to the same little things that Morgoth tended to ignore. Sauron lost because he became like Morgoth, not because he was lesser than Morgoth in might.

I'll leave off with a last quote from NoMitS.

Sauron had never reached this stage of nihilistic madness. He did not object to the existence of the world, so long as he could do what he liked with it. He still had the relics of positive purposes, that descended from the good of the nature in which he began: it had been his virtue (and therefore also the cause of his fall, and of his relapse) that he loved order and coordination, and disliked all confusion and wasteful friction. (It was the apparent will and power of Melkor to effect his designs quickly and masterfully that had first attracted Sauron to him.) - Morgoth's Ring: Notes on Motives in the Silmarillion

Sue me. I'm a filthy Angbanger at heart.

Also, here's all of NoMitS if anyone wants to read it.

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 23 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: The Maiden's Ball continues, and Valeana is pulled from one prince to the next. Word Count: 6313 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drunk!Aegon, yes that's the warning. be warned.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Yes, she's a big girl this chapter.

“Ow! Aemond! Again?” Valeana pulled away from him, bending down to rub her foot. Her face twisted in both frustration, impatience, and pain. 

He grimaced, his hands flying up in surrender, “I’m sorry! I promise, I’m not doing it intentionally!” 

She sighed, putting her foot back down as she looked up at him. Aemond was growing too tall nowadays, at speeds that she could not catch up to. She had to wear her wedged slippers just to be able to put her hands on his shoulders, which she loathed to wear. But she did it for him, because he was her friend and she could not in good conscience have him grow up to be a dismal dancer. Her toes greatly hated her for it though, since he had stepped on them more often than she cared to admit. 

But his face was beat red and twisted in guilt, and that made her heart easily cave. Valeana was so utterly weak for Aemond, it would be a problem in the future, she was sure. He resembled too much like a sad little cat, which was also one of her greater weaknesses. Every stray that would look upon her with squinty eyes and a gentle meow, she would stop and bend down to give them pets that would consume her time and make her immediately forget what she was intending to do a moment ago. 

Aemond had the same exact effect on her. He could make her bend as easily as a thread, and she’d immediately forget herself. Though she could not blame him, it wasn’t like he knew that he had this effect on her.

“It’s because you’re not paying attention, Aemond,” she approached him again, anchoring her hands on his shoulders. Their bodies were flushed together, for he was too tall and her arms were too short, there was no way for their middles not to touch. “Maiden’s Day is in a week, and your mother expects you to dance with at least a couple of girls there.” 

As she said that, her heart thrummed painfully. Aemond was at an age where it was expected to find him a future bride, likely one that would benefit his family, creating strong alliances with strong houses. She was not a contender, at least that is what she believed. House Celtigar may have been one of the richest families in Westeros, second to her mother’s house, the Lannisters, but they had no influence. They stuck to their region of the Realm, spending more time in Essos making their wealth than gaining power on their side of the world. Not to mention, Aegon frequently reminded her how ugly she was, not fit to be in court, let alone to be marriage material for a Prince of the Realm. Valeana loved to dance, she was quite good at it, which is why Alicent tasked her with tutoring her son. The sad, pathetic irony of it was that she rarely ever got to dance at balls. Unless it was with her father, or when Clement visited the capital, or she to Claw Isle. One time Alicent forced Aegon to dance with her, and you would’ve thought that he was being burned alive slowly with the faces of anguish he was making the entire time.

“One, two, three. One, two, three,” As Valeana tried to guide him through the steps, she looked up at him with a look of encouragement, but also to make sure he was paying attention. 

He was looking down at her with his lips pursed, a teardrop sweat rolling down his temple. His eyes flickered from her face, and then lower, and back to her face again. He kept on doing that back and forth, and Valeana wondered if he was finally trying to watch where his feet were going. 

But then he stepped on her toe again, and she ripped her foot away with a hiss. Aemond’s head fell back and he pushed his palms into his eyes in frustration. “I’m sorry! I am!” 

“I don’t get it,” Valeana muttered as she rubbed her toe. “You’re graceful when you’re sparring, and have such a sure foot. How is it that you’re the complete opposite at dancing? It’s practically the same.” 

“Maybe we should take a break,” He said, pulling his hands away from his face, and then shoving one in his pocket. His fingers fiddled in there for a moment, turning away from her to pace around the empty room they chose to practice in. “Give your toes a breather.” 

“How considerate,” she muttered, limping over to a bench to plop down on to remove her shoe and inspect the damage. It was just red, no bruising or bleeding around the nail. Thank the gods. 

Valeana was visibly upset, Aemond realized as he watched her on the bench putting her shoe back on. He couldn’t help but assume it was because of him, and how he was making this difficult for her. Physically torturing her with his stupid big feet, and failing her as her student. Little did he know, her despondency had nothing to do with that, and more to do with the fact that this would be the only time she ever would dance with Aemond. 

He joined her on the bench, and stretched out his legs, his hand still in his pocket as they sat in silence for a few minutes. Valeana stared at the wall, and he at the ceiling until he finally turned his head and examined her profile. Her face was starting to define, shaking away the softness of childhood as she was slowly becoming a woman before him. Aemond eyed her lips, pouty and pink, and was reminded of his failed attempt at kissing her in the Godswood. Perhaps he should try now? Was now a good time? No, he decided. She still looked upset. 

Aemond fidgeted a bit in his seat, looking between her and a point of nothingness in the room. Finally she turned to him, her brow furrowed at his actions. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh,” he scratched his head with his free hand, his eyes flickering to her for a moment, and landed on her ear. “Oh– hold on, Valeana, you have something in your hair,” he pulled his hand out from his pocket and carefully reached out to the side of her head. She visibly froze when he went to pluck out whatever it was that was there, afraid that it was a spider or something. 

But then his wrist did a flickering motion and suddenly, as if by magic, a gold coin with two faces appeared. Valeana’s eyes turned into saucers at the sight, looking at it in awe and surprise. Her hand reached her ear, as if she would find his secrets behind it. Her mouth fell into agape as she reached out and snatched it from his fingers. 

Aemond laughed at her reaction, glad that he had managed to lift her mood. 

“How did you do that?” She tossed the coin around in her hand, as if she would find some answer on it. It was a worn down coin, two heads instead of one and a dragon. Clearly a mistake in the smelting process. 

Aemond buttoned his lips and shook his head, “Magic.” 

“Shut up! Tell me, I want to know.”

“You have a magic ear, it produces many things.”

“Aemond,” she stressed his name, “I swear to the gods, you better tell me–” 

“How ‘bout this,” he offers, taking her hand in his, looking almost serious. “I’ll tell you the day I become good at dancing.”

Valeana scoffed, heavily rolling her eyes, “So, when pigs fly then.” 

Valeana craned her head to and fro around the dance floor, eyes flickering from one face to another as she waltzed with Jacaerys. When she had ducked under his arm, she spotted Aemond amongst the couples, dancing with Maris and mimicking the same movements as everyone else, completely graceful and effortless. Her lips pursed as she forced herself to pry her eyes away from them. However, it seemed her dance partner was aware of her wandering attention. Once he pulled her body into his with hand splayed behind her back, and the other cradling her right, he tilted his head to catch her eye. 

“Am I that repugnant that you cannot even bear to look at me?” Jacaerys raised his eyebrow, though the question was rhetorical and laced with amusement. 

The question effectively took her off guard, and she turned to him, blinking guilty as if she was caught stealing someone's purse.

“Oh, no, my Prince,” she scrambled immediately. “That isn’t it at all–”

“Valeana,” he smiled, shaking his head, “Drop the formalities, please. We are not strangers. We grew up together.” 

She was twirled under his arm, and momentarily had to hook her arm with another man before being returned to the Prince. As soon as she did, her demeanour visibly changed to something more casual, “I promised my father I would be nice.”

“You had intentions of being otherwise?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused by her statement. 

She stared back at him impassively when she replied, “Yes.” 

Jace tilted his head at her even more befuddled, his lips pouting as he struggled to comprehend why. Gods, she thought impatiently. He’s lucky he’s pretty. 

“Jace, you and your brother were complete jackasses to my sisters and I,” She plainly stated, her bluntness taking him by surprise. 

He wanted to scoff, but he held himself back. The tenseness of his shoulders underneath her hand was the first indication of his defensiveness. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, struggling to politely contradict her. 

“We were children, Valeana. You cannot keep me accountable for things I’ve said as a child.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Do you still keep Aegon and Aemond accountable for calling you and your brothers bastards?” 

Jacaerys nearly stopped dancing all together. His foot faltered, but he rapidly covered it up, then quickly looked around to make sure no one was staring at the mention of that word. That heinous, taboo word that has been used against him all his life. 

“That is different,” he seethed in a whisper through his teeth. “That… that word is used as a weapon against us over our legitimacy.”

Valeana rolled her eyes, “Oh, poor Prince Jacaerys, dragonrider, son of the Crown Princess, beloved by his grandfather, the Lord of the bloody Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, The Rhoynar, and the First Men. It must be so hard having brown hair and brown eyes.”

They stepped around each other as the dance continued, though the waltz was nearing the end. His hands were back on her waist to lift her up and place her back down on the floor on his other side.

“You are a lot more hostile than I remember, Valeana.” 

“I have grown hostile, Jacaerys. It is the consequence of being the target of cruel pranks and jests all due to my physical appearance, of which, as a child, I had no control over,” Her combative large green eyes bore into his brown ones. “Words cut deep wounds when they are inflicted on a child, Jace. And I hope you remember that after all you and Luke have ever done and said to me, I have never once called you… that. Not even behind your back.”

Words cut deep even then, because Jace swallowed down the truth like it was a tough, dry piece of overcooked steak. The dance slowed to a stop, the two of them parted so they may bow and curtsy to each other. An orchestra of clapping filled the vast room, and the dancers met each other again to kiss knuckles and say their temporary farewells before leaving to find their table with their families. 

Jace found it difficult to look her in the eye when he approached her, and Valeana couldn’t decide if she felt a smug sense of satisfaction from it, or simply annoyed at his cowardice. But he took her hand to keep up appearances, then bowed his head to meet her eye, since she refused to lift her chin to meet his.

“You are right,” now it was her time to be taken by surprise. “I treated you poorly in our youth. Allow me to make it up to you now… especially since there may be a chance–”

“Jace, tell me the truth, would you be trying this hard if I was still fat?”

He shut his eyes at the blow, “Valeana, that isn’t fair.”

“It’s fair to me.” 

Pursing his lips, he looked down at their hands, his thumb sweeping over the back of her palm. Valeana stared at his face closely, wondering if he was trying to stall because they both knew the answer he was not willing to admit to. 

“I am not the same boy that you remember me as,” he began, effectively avoiding the question as she predicted. What she didn’t predict was his knowledge of her and Aegon’s relationship. “If you can forgive Aegon enough to court him,” it was a struggle for him to say those words, “Then why not give me a chance?” 

Valeana pinched her brow, an exhausted moan on her tongue as the weight of her predicament felt a little more heavier. Juggling three princes was a lot of work, when there was only one (maybe two, if she squinted) she really wanted. On top of that, the entire Kingdom was setting bets on who she would choose. When her eyes opened, she could see her father’s eager face at their table near the dias where the royal family sat. Ultimately pleasing her father won. Especially since she was on thin ice as it is. 

“Fine, Jacaerys,” she relented, and he prized her with his victorious grin.

“Excellent,” he beamed, “Your brother told me you like horseback riding. Mayhaps we can have a ride in the Godswood together?” 

“That actually sounds nice, Jace. I haven't had the opportunity since I got here.”

“Then that settles it. How does tomorrow sound? We can have a picnic at the Heart Tree afterwards.” 

“It will have to be the day after tomorrow, I’m afraid. I promised Queen Alicent that I would help her with a dress,” more things for her to juggle. She really ought to stop making promises to people. 

“The day after tomorrow it is then,” he smiled gently and brought her hand to his lips, leaving an open-mouth kiss on the back of her hand. 

The spread of food upon the tables dwindled to just scraps. Enough food that could have kept the smallfolk fed for months surely, but the appetites of the aristocracy were larger. The dance floor became the centre stage for actors, fools, magicians and other such entertainers. At some point, a comedic bard named Quintyn the Quicktongue, renown for his skill in improving songs on the spot had taken the ball by storm. 

He had bent his knee at the Celtigar table, just a few feet away from Floris, who had a sour face for the length of the ball. She looked down at him in confusion, a blush upon her cheeks that soon crimsoned when he began to sing to her. 

“With a chest as flat as the fields we till, Yet still my heart she does fulfill! For beauty’s not in curves or skin, But in that forehead and her little chin!”

Valeana spat her drink. Her hand flew over her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked at Quintyn in horrified elation. This of course caught his attention, and he floated over to her with his lute ready. While Valeana was trying to control herself under the watchful eyes of Quintyn, Floris was aghast, angered, offended, and trying to be calmed down by her mother. 

“Oh, no,” with a groan, Val sucked her lips under her teeth and leaned back into Clement’s shoulder when Quintyn smiled mischievously down at her, then up at the anticipating crowd. The crowd hummed with hushed laughter at the mere sight of his face. 

“Oh, she laughed so hard, her drink took flight, Her face turned pink, a rosy sight! With silver hair and eyes so bright, She sparkled more than the morning light.

"Her bosoms bounced in the cheer she spilled, But with grace and charm, she was still well-filled! A beauty, true, in laughter's bliss— Just watch your drink next time, my sweet Miss!”

And just when Clement sprung from his seat, Quintyn twisted around and pranced away to find his new victim. Valeana’s head flew back from her laughter, hands flying up to her cheeks as her face turned proper pink from her gasps. Laughter rang throughout the hall, the loudest of all was Aegon, who clapped and wolf-whistled from the royal table. Alicent, Otto and Viserys collectively sent him a withering stare. 

“And that’s the man you want to be your husband?” Clement whispered in Valeana’s ear. 

Val groaned and sent him a surly glance over her shoulder, “Grow a sense of humour, Clement.” 

He scoffed and turned back to the table. 

The entertainers cleared as the band of musicians started to play, encouraging people to rise from their seats to take their spots on the dance floor once again. Pair by pair, people rose, including the Lord and Lady Celtigar, proving that romance never ages. Even Clement excused himself when his eye caught the eye of a Myrish beauty presiding at Prince Qyle Martell’s table. 

Valeana couldn’t help her gaze when it traveled to the royal table, eyes catching the impassive visage of Aemond, leaning back in his chair with an ornate goblet in his hand. He wasn’t looking in her direction, his attention seemed absent from the present by the way his fingers fiddled with the ridges of the cup in his hand. His attention was pulled away from his reverie when his mother whispered something in his ear, and then shortly after, his eye found Valeana’s. 

Just that moment Aegon had blocked her view by ducking his head down between her and Shyla. 

“Hello, Crab Cake,” Aegon said cheekily. The waft of wine and liquor on his breath would have annoyed her, had it not been for her own indulgences that evening. 

With her chin propped on her hand she smiled up at him, “Hello, Aegon Toast.”

Floris scoffed and rolled her eyes at their overly familiar nicknames. 

His grin broadened, “Well, look at you, all flushed with drink already.”

“Not as much as you are, my Prince,” she tilted her head back, trying her best to ignore the penetrating glare of her step sister. 

“Not yet,” his tongue poked out through his teeth, causing her to shake her head at his absurdity. Aegon suddenly straightened, hand extended, “Come now. My nephew robbed me of your first dance, and my pride cannot handle that.” 

Floris shook her head and directed her attention to Shyla, “Do you approve of this? Shyla, darling, your sister has usurped your–” Floris was caught off by the surprising appearance of another silver-haired prince. 

Daeron smiled at everyone at the table just as Valeana had accepted Aegon’s hand and allowed him to pull her onto her feet. 

“I hope everyone is having a fine evening,” the presence of the youngest Targaryen prince drastically shifted the mood of everyone at the table. 

Aegon visibly rolled his eyes to the back of his head, making Valeana smirk knowingly. Shyla’s eyes marbled as she craned her neck up at him with a dazzling smile, the world around her ceasing to exist at his mere presence. Floris also perked up, her sour face vanishing and she visibly leaned in to get Daeron’s attention. The most curious of all though was silent Arthor, who stared up at him as if he was a statue made out of diamonds and gold. His mouth popped open, but words failed him. 

“The crown does not disappoint, my Prince,” Floris’ back went straight, evidently unaware of her sister’s new found affixation of the youngest Targaryen brother. Aegon and Valeana shared a look, secretive smiles upon their faces before they slowly took their leave. 

Floris actively ignored her estranged step sister and Prince Aegon as they stepped around the table and made for the mass of dancers at her back. Her attention was fixed on Daeron, her last chance. With Valeana hogging the affection of the crown prince, and Viserys’ eldest, Aemond still attached to that bore, Maris Baratheon (a development she bitterly did not see coming), and Lucerys seemingly unavailable at every turn, her last hope was Daeron. There was Joffrey, but not only was he not present, he was also nearly ten years younger than her. 

Though her hope quickly died when Daeron smiled down at Shyla, and Floris then became aware of just why her littlest sister allowed Val to swindle Aegon from her. Her smile dwindled down to a pinched pout, realizing that she would be once again left empty handed. 

“Lady Shyla, would you do me the honour of a dance?” His hand barely was offered before the girl clung to it. Daeron smiled widely at her eagerness, the dimples in his cheeks reaching his glittery eyes. 

Floris had to bite her tongue, wanting nothing more than to remind the young prince about little Floris. Elder Floris had to listen to the younger prattle on and on about him, enough to make her annoyed by her presence. She now knows why the youngest Baratheon was so besotted by him, and if elder Floris was not on the brink of spinsterhood, she would have been very eager to encourage the courtship of her baby sister and Prince Daeron. That was the plan originally, was it not? The one that she had assumed was to take place when they got the letter. She would have Aegon, Valeana would have Aemond, and Shyla would have Daeron. 

Or perhaps that was her delusional wish. 

When Daeron took away Shyla, Floris started to mutter to herself, leaning against the chair, simmering in her sour mood. Arthor was staring at her, his hand cradling his chin. 

“What?” She barked at him. 

“Have you ever heard the idiom ‘you catch more flies with honey’?”

She rolled her eyes, “You’ll catch even more with a corpse.” 

With that she gathered her dress and swept away from the table, leaving Arthor to finish his cup and leave shortly after. His dark eyes watched Shyla and Daeron carefully before disappearing into the crowd to follow a dashing man with red hair through the main entrance.

Floris was also hellbent on leaving the ball; she had her fill of rejection and humiliation for one night. Her mother tried to placate her throughout the feast, telling her to smile more and be polite, but her smile would never reach her eyes. Additionally, she never drew attention to a single man in the ball. But then there was her step sister, whom everyone, including women seemed to stare at her and whisper. Of course, Floris knew it was for the wrong reasons, given that she was the one that struck the match and stoked the flames of the gossip going around King’s Landing. The problem now, she realized, was that it ultimately backfired on her. She indirectly made her least favourite person in the world the most preeminent unwed lady of the Realm. Women hated her or they wanted to be her. Or both. 

And what was worse, the ill gossip did not deter the possibility that Valeana may very well become the fucking Queen of Westeros. A title that she, Floris, was more worthy of. She was the regal one; the one with the swan-like neck, the thin waist, the willowy legs, and tiny feet. The one that knows how to talk to ladies of the court, and how to keep her wits about her in social gatherings. The one who actually wants to be a dutiful wife and have son after son after son. But here she was, left to rot until she became an old maid. 

No one paid her much attention as she stepped around patrons of the ball, towards the side entrance that led into the intricate maze of corridors at the very heart of the Red Keep. No one except for a man with chin-length black hair and a clubbed foot leaning against the wall. 

“Leaving so soon, Lady Floris?” 

She slowed down her pace once she was under the threshold, caught between her rage and years of etiquette grinded into her skull like a mortar and pestle. Floris took a step back and gave a subtle curtsy. Her smile was small, the most she could force when she was battling with her own anger, trying to remain poised and impassive over her terrible evening. 

“Lord Larys,” she acknowledged. “I regret to say that my feet are crying out for rest after such a long day. Now that the feast is concluded, I thought it best to take my leave for the night.” It was a lie, but it would save her dignity. 

He hummed, his eyes glancing down to the floor where her feet were hidden behind the hem of her dress, and then back up. 

“I didn’t see you dancing.”

She couldn’t help her eyes from narrowing, “You were watching me?”

There was a faint smile there, one that she could not decide if she liked or not. Though what he said after did make her toes tingle and her face feel hot. 

“Always.” 

“So did you tell Jacaerys Strong he can sod off?” Aegon leaned into her ear, pressing their bodies flushed together with a firm hand on her back. Valeana had to lean her head away just to look at him. 

“I made a promise to my father I would give him a chance,” she reminded him. He rolled his eyes exaggeratingly, then tried to shake a wayward strand of hair from his face. It had escaped from his plait at sometime, and had been waving to and fro in front of his nose the better part of the evening.

“But we had a deal,” with his emphasis on ‘we’, his hand slid southward and shamelessly gripped her behind as he pushed their middles together. Had she not been wearing layers upon layers of skirts, she might have felt the stiff rod in his breeches. 

Her eyes widened, “Aegon! My father and mother are right here.” Her eyes flickered to her parents, stuck in their own inebriated world as they swayed back and forth, blissfully drunk and unaware. 

Aegon just chuckled, his breath wafting onto her face, reminding her of his own state of drunkenness. He leaned into her neck, nose ghosting over it to inhale her scent before he brought his lips to her ear, “No one is watching us, darling.”

That was a lie. She felt eyes upon her, but she could not pinpoint who’s. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end, like a prey sensing a predator in the grass. But it wasn’t her father, nor Clement. The latter was also occupied, with that same Myrish woman who, by the looks of it, planned on taking him to bed. Valeana wanted to laugh at the sight, but the unease in her gut was keeping her alert and slightly agitated. It was not Jace, nor Luke, nor even Daemon. The young princes were conversing with Cregan Stark, and their step father seemed preoccupied with his brother at the royal table. It wasn’t Aemond either, since he appeared to have disappeared from his spot at the same table, and with a quick sweep of the hall, Valeana failed to see Maris as well. 

The uneasiness she felt was overpowered by a sudden wave of sadness, and she subconsciously moved in closer to Aegon’s body, placing her forehead on his shoulder. He was, of course, oblivious to her mind and took it as a sign of affection and an invitation to speak freely. 

“Gods, my brother was a fool for letting you go that night,” he groaned into the side of her cheek. His tongue flicked out to capture her earlobe but he hadn’t accounted for the earring that dangled there. With another moan, this time of slight inconvenience, he pulled away so he could look at her properly. His forehead met hers when he propped her face up with one hand, then moved it back to her waist. 

“Mayhaps he was right for insisting on escorting you back,” his eyes fluttered shut, and she watched him silently and closely. “I would have pulled you into the nearest room and fucked you pregnant.”

Valeana’s head immediately pulled away from his, causing him to whine in annoyance. Her face was surely flushed already, but she still felt the heat rise to her ears, and (embarrassingly) down to her loins. She was used to Aegon’s lewdness, but it had never been this bold and vulgar. No man had ever spoken to her like that, and she wasn’t entirely understanding why it didn’t offend her as much as it should have. 

She subconsciously licked her lips, which was possibly the worst possible thing she could have done, because his eyes were on them in an instant, and without hesitation he leaned in to capture them. Luckily she was able to pull back on time, placing a hand upon his chest to create some distance. 

“Aegon, you are drunk, and you do not know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I am saying,” he smiled lazily at her. “I want you Valeana Celtigar. You-you make my cock so, so viciously hard. After every moment we share, I-I have to find some vacant corner of the castle to fuck my hand. Or the nearest maid that can pass off as you —Her name is Hildy by the way; she’s the only woman I’ve ever allowed to stick a finger up m’bum.” 

“Oh my Gods, Aegon, please, that’s enough–” 

“Hush–” he placed a heavy finger on her lips. They had gradually stopped dancing, instead they were now lingering in the crowd of ignorant strangers, just as drunk as her dance partner. Maybe a little less. Aegon leaned against her, his only pillar of rationality. “‘M not done, Crab Cake. I want to be the one to give you bruises all over your tits. I want to taste your pleasure on my tongue while you are seated upon my face. I want to rub your precious little pearl while I devour your beautiful arse like the peach it is. Seven fuckin’ Hells, Valeana, I want your maidenhead!”

“Aegon, you’re getting too loud,” her eyes flickered around as her mind struggled to juggle the alcohol, the anxiety, and the unwanted desire. Every vulgar confession spewed from his lips caused her pelvis to flutter. Ever since Cat had told her about the story of the Dornish princes, it was all she could think about throughout the Maiden’s Day prayers and the ride back to the Red Keep. 

Had she and Aegon been alone, however, Valeana might have caved into her lust, encouraged by the over consumption of wine and spirits and her touch starved skin. Her eyes would close as he would pepper kisses on her neck and shoulders, and she could escape into a fantasy where his lips were still his and his hands were Aemond’s. No man has ever craved her like this, and she had believed none ever would. And Aegon offered her something she had no idea she wanted.

But, Aemond was somewhere in this room. She didn’t want him to know that she lusted for his brother, lest he think less of her and spur even more for her being another one of Aegon’s wanton whores. But at the same time, she wanted to anger him to the point of possessiveness, where the mere thought of them together would bring him to the brink of madness. It was all infuriatingly confusing, her feelings. 

She wanted Aemond’s respect and his ire. 

She wanted Aegon’s security and his chaos. 

She wanted Aegon’s lust and Aemond’s love. 

“I do not care,” he shook his head, hands reaching up to cup her face so he could bring her closer until their noses touched. Instinctively, her hands flew to his elbows, trying to calm him down. “I’ll have the whole bloody Realm and the Free Cities hear it. I want Val–” 

Her hand flew to his mouth, cutting him off before they earned any more looks other than the ones within earshot. Valeana could feel his smirk on the palm of her hand, his shoulders shaking from a silent laugh. 

“What are you doing, Aegon?” Her hand tentatively dropped from his mouth, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. 

“Trying to win.” 

Her brow furrowed, gearing up to ask what he meant by that, but the sharp “Aegon!” that came from behind the Prince shook both parties to their bones. 

Valeana had to yank herself away from Aegon’s hands, which had no intention of releasing her even when he turned around to face his mother – a forest fire in her green and gold gown, the seven pointed star proudly displayed on her clavicle – and looked at her utterly unaffected. 

“Ah, my beautiful mother,” his arms laid limply at his sides as he turned to give her his obligatory attention. By how taut her jaw was, Alicent was putting her muscles into overdrive at holding back her true emotions, particularly now that her presence has made a vacant circle around the three. “You have impeccable timing, as ever, I was just telling the lovely Lady Val–”

“Aegon,” Alicent said again, lower, more stressed. The tone was enough to convey her need for him to shut up, which he did before the Queen turned to Valeana. Her face gentler, though still contrite, “Lady Valeana, excuse me, but I would like a moment with my son, if you do not mind.” 

Valeana curtsied, “Of course, your Grace. I was just growing weary of dancing anyway.”

Alicent gave a curt nod, “I am glad you enjoyed your Maiden’s Day. I will see you on the morrow, Lady Valeana.”

She nodded in return to confirm their plans, “Your Grace.”

Valeana gifted Aegon a small smile before thanking him for the dance, bidding him a good evening and then parted from the son and his harpy mother. She could make out Aegon’s whine at her departure, and the silent berating Alicent was giving him about his untoward public displays. Putting them behind her, she decided to duck her head and make for her family’s table. 

Only it was void of life. When she stood at it, the adrenaline from the electric night was starting to move out of her, replaced by a wave of exhaustion. It was as if she had taken milk of the poppy and it was starting to wane off; she could now feel the dull ache of her knee and right calf. She had been standing, walking, and dancing far too much that day, and Valeana was not used to wearing her current prosthetic for this long. 

She briefly leaned against the back of a chair as she bent down to push the butt of her palm down her left knee, trying to massage some of the ache. It helped none, and now she was starting to get a headache. The alcohol certainly would be the number one culprit, but it was also the noise, the amount of people, the early day, and the emotional internal struggle. Aegon’s confession also leased a place in her head, reminding her that her life is more complicated than she would have liked. 

Valeana needed to get out of there, before another man could crowd her with questions for a dance and offers for a courtship she did not want. She took the side exit, but it was also occupied by a few dozen patrons; men talking amongst themselves, women gossiping on a bench, couples trying to steal intimate touches in such a public setting. When Valeana spotted one of the Tyrell cousins openly flirting with a man she could not identify, she couldn’t help but let out a soundless laugh to herself. They began as maidens that day, and surely by tomorrow’s light, there will be many who will no longer be allowed to hold that title. 

And the Maiden wept. 

Val wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, only that she was following the corridors that had considerably less people crowding them. Finding an alcove with some stairs, she followed it slowly, hands bracing the wall as it led her to the cellars. The warm glow of the room was immediately relaxing. Music was muffled just dull enough to settle the pounding at her temple, and the sight of the many candles and Balerion’s massive skull bizarrely coaxed her into a state of ease. As if she was finally safe under the Black Dread’s shadow, even in death. 

She settled on a stone bench that faced the monument of the Conqueror’s dragon, extending her left leg out as she pulled up her dress so she could massage the muscles of her thigh and knee. With eyes closed, she took steady breaths to ease the headache from her skull, trying to lull herself into a state of blissful ignorance. Ignorant of the music above her; ignorant of the distant chatter and laughter; ignorant of the sound of feet padding along the flag stones; ignorant to the Prince who had followed her down to her sanctuary.

Ignorant of another that followed suit, hugging the shadows. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR SNEAK PEAK: "I miss you too."

Notes: Couple of things. 1) I've mentioned this before in my masterlist, but it bears repeating considering some might've not read it or forgot. I am absolutely terrible at writing poems and songs, so yes, Quintyn's little jingle was partially written by an AI. It's like the one form of writing I hate to do, and I'm terrible at. The only thing I can do competently in terms of poems are Haikus. And this is free fanfiction, I'm not going out of my way to find someone or pay someone to help me with it. I need money to buy groceries and pay for my cat's college intuition. I'm not ashamed of using AI to help me in areas I struggle, and I am not going to be persuaded into being ashamed of it. ty :) 2) The current chapters ive been working on have been a struggle, because I'm going in them blind with no plan. So updating is gonna be a little slower until I can get back into my grove of things. I feel like once I get these chapters out of the way, it'll return to normal.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[yallemagne]

So I finished the first season of X-Men: The Animated Series of course. Highlights?

Episode 1 & 2: Night of the Sentinels

Jubilee's father really fuckin sold her out huh? And holy shit the fucking sentinels. Dog, why did you MAKE THEM SO BIG. I had expected like that they started small and got bigger ones when the X-Men were revealed, but no, without even alerting the nation that they were making these robots, they sent a giant ass robot into a mall to capture one teenager.

Me pointing out "huh Morph is getting a lot of moments here, I like it" followed by them immediately dying. Like damn. They really did that. No wonder the creators backed out of having Thunderbird be in Morph's role, that would have just been insulting. Especially since he probably wouldn't have been brought back.

"Tell Cyclops... I made him a convertible."

Cyclops refuses to apologize for leaving without Morph and Beast but instead offers Logan an opportunity for revenge. It's so them. These petty bastards.

Episode 3: Enter Magneto

Beast... you're so silly. So, Beast refuses a rescue by Magneto (he's imprisoned) because "I'm awaiting a fair trial that will prove my innocence"... girl. You are a giant blue man. So, yeah, another case where Magneto was right.

Sabretooth is such a fake-ass bitch, I love it. So, he shows up at the trial causing a ruckus and gets injured and the X-Men take him in and start treating him like their pathetic little meow meow. This couldn't possibly go wrong.

"Come on, they're gonna kill him!" "Good." *turns around* "WHAT?"

"He's a threat." "He was near death." "Not near enough."

They just keep giving Wolverine all the best lines.

Episode 4: Deadly Reunions

Sabretooth, my poor little meow meow... all you did was a few itty bitty kitty murders... That's what Charles is saying at the start of this episode.

Xavier truly does try to get to the root of Sabretooth's anger with some super therapy, but alas, Sabretooth is just That Bitch. We do know that a competent telepath can temper his anger though, just look at Birdy.

They leave Jubilee alone with him acknowledging full well "this man is more dangerous than Wolverine... have fun babysitting!" He's restrained in a chair growling "let me at 'em" as Senator Kelly is being racist on TV and Jubilee very kindly turns it off and he's like "sowwy I'm twying to be a good boy... 😿" So of course Jubilee sees his restraints are hurting his wrists and releases him to help. Hahahaha. Oh girl.

If this were a show being produced today, I could totally see Sabretooth being accepted by the X-Men because "daww look he's angry just like you Wolverine" being drawn out into a longer arc where he actually gains their trust so it creates a genuine rift in the team... but also maybe he's not that patient for a scheme like that.

(also I know the show probably isn't going with the continuity that they're blood-related, but Wolverine telling them Sabretooth is nothing but trouble and getting hit with "but he's just like you 🥺" is very brother-coded okay?? Anyone who has a terrible older brother can relate.)

"Alright you egg-sucking piece of gutter trash. You always liked pushing around people smaller than you. WELL, I'M SMALLER! TRY PUSHING ME!!" << that's some little brother dialogue.

(… Morph would have listened to Wolverine about Sabretooth. Morph knows the Deep Lore.)

Episode 5: Captive Hearts

Callisto saw Cyclops and immediately said "I'm gonna make him my trophy husband", and while that is a valid reaction, no means no, hun.

They literally establish Storm as the Morlock's future Moses basically with her promising to come back for them when the time is right and they feel safe to breech the surface. And then they gave Magneto that role in '97. Ugh. He has the nerve to say Xavier just left them down there when it was in fact Storm that respected their right to self-determination.

Episode 6: Cold Vengeance

I love every time I see Sabretooth, he's just so silly-looking. No wonder everyone else imprinted on him like "hehe silly orange kitty" he's so BIG. He's incredibly top-heavy, just look at his bazongas.

We got through this with no sacrifice of Inuit life but a sombre sentiment that they'll be abandoning the old ways rather than rebuilding their homes.

Episode 7: Slave Island

Jubilee and Gambit have a nice little dynamic. He's the first person Jubilee used her powers to protect and she does it multiple times. I imagine he's like her cool older brother with street smarts.

No wonder Gambit was suspicious of Genosha in '97. Can't really trust that all is well when the foundation of that place was quite literally built with slavery.

This just makes Magneto's "tsk tsk Charles didn't use his wealth and resources to ship a load of UNWILLING Morlocks to Genosha for their own good" comment in '97 all the more frustrating. Man can be a dumbass.

Anyway--- CABLE CABLE CABLE. My silly little big boy.

Episode 8: The Unstoppable Juggernaut

Juggernaut is such a funny guy. I feel like usually, the big guys don't get to be the wise-cracking type, so this piece of shit was fun to watch.

Also just love Colossus, he's perfect.

Episode 9: The Cure

It's hard to feel bad for Warren when he's literally rich and funding a project that can be easily weaponized to hurt mutants. Sure, he was tricked and wasn't actually funding his "cure", but it would have been awful even if he got what he wanted. Just wear one of those collars for the rest of your life, jackass.

HOW IS NO ONE CHECKING IN ON THIS RESEARCH?? This experimentation on human beings is taking place with no government interference???

Pyro and Avalanche are fucking don't even try to convince me otherwise. Pyro, I don't care where you are from, I'm gonna be so weird about you calling every man you meet “darling”.

Episode 10: Come the Apocalypse

The public will see literally any villain and be like "A RENEGADE MUTANT!!" Like yeah sure I think Apocalypse technically is a mutant?? But like they really just profile all criminals as mutants.

Again, not sorry for you, rich boy.

Poor Rogue, having to absorb all these men's damage.

Episode 11 & 12: Days of Future Past

Bishop is a fucking traitor holy shit. Sure he gets better but damn. Girly was really like "The face-eating jaguars would never eat my face." and then was immediately told he was no longer needed.

"Someone... or something has come back through the time portal." "CHECK PLEASE! TIME PORTAL?"

"You kids better behave yourselves; I'm staying behind to babysit."

"Okay, ROUND BOY. Let's dance."

Wolverine has all the best lines.

Wonder why Mystique specifically chose to impersonate Gambit for the assassination. Perhaps he seemed the most likely? Perhaps a grudge against him for his relationship with Rogue?

Episode 13: The Final Decision

I'm so fucking disappointed that the fate of mutantkind lies in the hands of Senator Kelly because, dog, I wanna shoot him.

When you make a giant racist robot factory and even the giant racist robot factory is smart enough to recognize that mutant rights are human rights and so it resolves to protect humanity by replacing it with robots. Fucking dumbasses.

Honestly makes you wonder what the fuck Trask thought he was doing coming back in the new series. He knew that starting up another Master Mold would inevitably lead to the robots replacing politicians' brains with computers and he DID IT AGAIN ANYWAY.

Seeing Chuck and Magnus working together always warms my heart. And then they go right back to being enemies.

That Mister Sinister teaser at the end was... I'm not gonna say it.

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

pit babe ep 7 stray thoughts

- way made him feel undeserving of love….

- so jeff is like that cause he’s plagued by visions..

- ok now i get the peteway posts. oh ways pathetic nature and whiny bitch demeanor have captivated pete body and soul

- oh way might be my little meow meow of the show

- oh god oh fuck i might be a peteway boy

- kim needs to kiss winner to shut him up

- omg person who hurt protagonist was antagonist pikachu surprise face

- scream this is so dramatic. the scheming it’s all coming together (also peep kentakim this is for you le trash prince)

- ok so this is where we find out tony wants to sell babe for bitching

- AH CHARLIES THERE THE DRAMA

- do they know charlie’s powers also who WAIT IS THIS A NUTHPHOP BALLADnvm just sounded like ambivalent thoughts

- way seems happy i don’t trust this. is he about to break

- oh he is oh no it’s babe. oh i think someone’s gonna ugly cry it can go either way at this point. babe sweeeeep

- oh… maybe i don’t want this babe babe nooooooo nooooooo. oh he’s gonna close his heart off to other people now isn’t he oh fuck noooooooo SOMEONE STOP HIS THOUGHT LROCESS PPLEASE

- i don’t understand ways face here i need subtitles but for facial expressions

- oh poor puppy

- does anyone know if they make the music in house

- this ep might be my fav so far….

- is way an omega y’all

- there’s been a shift in babe…. i can’t explain it but something changed in the last 20 min

- babe being an easy cryer is so important to me actually

- ooo surveillance being a theme again lets goooo

- SCREAM CHARLIE BACKSTORY AND MOTIVSTION OH GOD ITS HAPOENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM STAY FUCKING CALM

- charlie trauma enthusiasts let’s gooooo

- tony is so fucking evil i hope charlie rips his face off

- how wild would it be if winner was an enigma. like he’s not but could you imagine

- actually i need kenta to rip tony’s face off

- does charlie know about his power. does anyone

- babe looking like a wet feral cat i need to lie down

- SCREAM HE JUST FLAT OUT TELLS BABE LIKE THAY?!,!?!?! like i’d be scared to get punched like ???? it’s wild he just flat out says i took your power like wow i thought he’d lie at least a little

- these flashbacks can never be happy can they… always gotta leave you horny and destroyed

- charlie being like “don’t worry i can fix this. if you want i can just kill myself” like broooooo

- scream do you think charlie woke up one day like “damn he smells fine today” skejdjfjejrjr

- “can mama not break up with papa 🥺” “ 😒😑😩 fine”

- honestly i get babe if someone took away my sensory issues id still fuck them. much more enthusiastically then before probably. i get him now liking kissing too like this makes perfect sense to me

- oh way….. oh god this pathetic man nothing can go right for him ever ima creaming

- i also get babe because charlie is so cute id fold immediately like so what you stole my super powers look at your cutie patootie self how could i stay mad

- oh here we go car sex scene- are they talking about booty holes rn is this happening on my screen… good for them

- oh way… i’m so sorry my baby boy im so sorry… honestly he’s stronger than me i would’ve been throwing shit THE BOUQUET

- ok so are the only ones with special powers jeff babe and charlie (and way ??)

- NORTHSONIC these absolute clowns. does he not understand adoption i love him. nosrthdaonic aenwwvehtjrngn l. what are these two talking about. way omega confirmation ????

- sonic get your boy on a leash his poor impulse control and lack of common sense is staggering

- kim kinda right like let him cook oh ew fuck tony for that too

well what an ep

[andorerso]

Hi! I'm taking an opportunity you presented and I'm asking for more of your story: let the cat out of the bag. I adore it and would like more of it!

A sequel to this AU with some more adventures of Mimi the Cat! Thanks for the prompt, I hope you like this <3

Summary: Five months after they started dating, Jyn gets cold feet and tries to run from her feelings. Naturally, Mimi is not happy about this.

OR, how Mimi saves this relationship for the second time.

Jyn has prepared a little box with all of Cassian’s things she could find: a pair of socks, two shirts, a toothbrush, a razor, shaving cream, his favorite shampoo, one of his cookbooks… She didn’t realize how much stuff he’d kept at her place, growing roots in her home the same way he’d sneaked into her life. Slowly, steadily, subtly. And so thoroughly, she doesn’t know how to cut him out.

She hesitates when it comes to the blue shirt she loved to sleep in, running her fingers across the soft material like it was his skin.

A clean break would be better, right? No need to torture herself with old memories. This would be hard as it is…

Jyn puts the shirt in the box and slams the lid shut. It sits on the living room table all day, taunting her, while Mimi squats under the couch, unwilling to even look in her direction.

Fair enough. She doesn’t really want to look at herself either right now.

Cassian is stopping by soon to collect his things, and then it’ll be over.

She shouldn’t complain. She’s the one who ended things after all. Still, the finality of it squeezes her lungs so tight that she has to stop and remember to breathe. They dated only for five months; it shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t be such an integral part of her that she can’t go on without him. It was meant to be just some harmless fun. But she’d underestimated how much this would hurt.

Seeing Cassian on her doorstep doesn’t help. The face that once put a smile on her lips now makes her want to curl up in a ball and cry while she eats ice cream out of a box like those women in romantic comedies during the second act fallout.

Except this is no movie. She doesn’t expect a grand reunion at the end of all this.

Jyn leads him to the living room, ignoring the memories of all the times she’s done that only to grab him by the collar and pull him down on the couch to fool around. It’s more or less how their first kiss went, right on that couch with half a dozen notebooks open in front of them and forgotten for the night as her legs wrapped around him and his hands slid under her shirt.

Then, a couple of months of unattached sex, or so they had said until Mimi had meddled in her own strange, brilliant way and made them admit their feelings for each other. And so they’d begun dating, five months of bliss Jyn had never experienced before. Not perfect, no, but imperfect in a way that was just right.

Oh, she remembers thinking one night as she played with Cassian’s hair while he slumbered peacefully next to her. So this is what people write all those poems about.

Looking back now, that realization might have been the beginning of the end. Because this is what she does, she runs. When things get too real, she cuts the cord and disappears. Leaves behind a string of broken hearts, but none of them her own.

Except this time, it feels more like she severed her own hand rather than whatever cord tied them together. Cassian left, but the cord stretched taut and continued to tug her towards him while she slowly bled out from her self-inflicted wound.

Now here they are. All those months, and they can barely stand to look at each other. Pathetic.

A scratching sound interrupts her train of thought as Mimi finally pulls herself out from under the couch. Of course she would, now that he’s here. Little traitor.

With a single, drawn-out meow, she runs to Cassian and greets him by rubbing her small body against his leg while she trots around him in circles. The twitch of his lips as he looks down at her is Jyn’s first glimpse behind the calm mask he donned.

Her heart squeezes. Damn it. He’s always loved her stupid cat to irrationality. Once, she joked that the real love story was not between her and Cassian, but between Mimi and Cassian. Cassian laughed and kissed her forehead while he continued to rub Mimi between her ears.

“It can be both,” he said.

Well, she’s effectively ended both as well.

Cassian leans down to stroke his hand against Mimi’s white fur a couple of times, a sight so familiar that Jyn has to dig her nails into her palm to keep her composure. The cord tugs harder but she digs her heels into the ground and refuses to budge. She can’t go back now.

Cassian doesn’t linger as long as he normally would. He straightens up, despite the displeased yowl Mimi lets out, and gives Jyn a look of apprehension.

She jerks her head towards the box on the table. “That’s all I could find.”

Her voice is strained with things she doesn’t want to admit. Like how much she’s missed him in just the week they’ve been separated, how she isn’t actually sure she’s making the right choice, how scared she is to never see him again…

What would he say if she told him all that?

Cassian picks up the box, ruffling through its contents. He has nothing to give back to her. They spent more time at her apartment because of Mimi, but the realization still gives her pause. Had she really been so closed off that she wouldn’t even bring over a toothbrush? Had she been holding him at arm’s length all this time without knowing it?

“Thanks.” He clears his throat as he closes the lid shut, gives her a fleeting glance. He’s unable to hold her gaze for too long. His face is smooth as marble, but the tension in his posture is obvious. “Well, I should just…” He trails off, gesturing towards the door.

“Right.”

Neither of them moves. They stand in awkward silence, waiting for the other to say something, fix things, be honest. But she can’t make her voice work. If that was so easy, she wouldn’t be here to begin with.

Cassian snaps out of it first. He turns away, heading for the door, and Jyn knows the window has closed. No takebacks now. She follows him with a heavy heart, watches silently as he pulls on his coat and prepares to walk out of her life. Will they go back to strangers now like they’d never known each other? Will he nod at her politely on the street or turn away with a frown? Will it still mean anything to him a year from now?

He pulls the door open, and Jyn loses her composure. “Cassian —”

Before she even finishes saying his name, he’s already stopped and turned to face her again. One hand on the doorknob, he waits, patiently, for her to speak. But with those dark eyes that miss nothing watching her, she loses her nerve again, and the words get stuck in her throat. Whatever those words even were.

Don’t go? I’m sorry? Can we talk about this?

As Jyn hesitates and Cassian waits, Mimi, who’s followed them to the foyer, slips between his legs and runs out the door.

“Shit!” Jyn takes off after her without a second thought, but the little devil is far too fast for her own good and is already sprinting down the stairs at the end of the hallway. “Mimi, stop!”

She can hear Cassian fumble with something in her apartment, but she doesn’t stop, taking stairs two at a time as she tries to catch up with Mimi.

It’s no use. By the time she reaches the ground floor, Mimi is nowhere to be seen, and the single mom from the second floor is blinking at her in surprise, holding the main door open.

“She just ran out, I didn’t see —”

Jyn doesn’t dignify that with a response, tearing out into the street and blinking helplessly at the busy neighborhood. It’s the typical picture: people rushing by on their phones, cars honking, drivers yelling, a baby crying in a stroller, a street musician on the other side playing his guitar… The noise feels oppressive.

Now what? She looks left, she looks right. Mimi could have gone in any direction. And with the amount of traffic they have in this area…

Her heart racing, Jyn takes deep breaths and tries not to panic. Too late. She’s not prepared to deal with this. Sure, she often jokes about Mimi being her heartless little devil cat, but it’s nothing but affectionate teasing. Mimi’s her baby and she can’t imagine her life without her. She’s never run away before; she isn’t an outdoor cat. If something happens… if they can’t find her…

Cassian arrives behind her, but Jyn’s still scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a flash of white fur.

“Is she gone?”

“I…” She can’t finish her words, a ball lodged in her throat.

Cassian grips her shoulders and turns her to face him, but she’s too distraught to even feel the burn of his touch.

“Hey, don’t panic. She must be nearby.” He sounds so sure, but Jyn knows he’s only trying to reassure her. Well, she’s gonna let him. Eyes locked on Cassian, she nods and tries to believe him.

Mimi couldn’t have gotten that far, right? She was just pissed at Jyn for sending Cassian away, a fact she’s already made clear in the past week. She was playing the part of an angry teenager running away from home to piss off her parents. Very dramatic. Very unnecessary. But she’d come back.

She has to.

“I locked your door,” Cassian continues, producing a key from his pocket that he hands to her. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”

“You don’t have to,” Jyn begins feebly, but nothing sounds worse than the thought of doing this on her own. Luckily, Cassian sees right through her bullshit. He sends her a look that says he isn’t willing to argue about this, and Jyn’s heart swells with appreciation.

“We’ll find her, I promise.”

xxx

The sun starts to set, casting the sky in pink and orange hues, and Mimi is still missing.

Jyn is beginning to lose hope of ever seeing her beloved cat again. More and more nefarious possibilities of what might have happened circle her like dark clouds before a storm, and she can’t push them down anymore. What if she was attacked by a dog, what if she was hit by a car, what if someone saw her, thought she was cute, and picked her up to take her home, what if what if what if

Cassian tries to keep her spirits high, but he’s fighting a losing battle.

“She’ll turn up,” he insists, always so determined, as they make their way back to her apartment building. “We can print some posters, post it on social media —” he goes on but Jyn doesn’t want to hear it.

It all begins to build in her chest; breaking up with Cassian, the shitty days at work, the sleepless nights, the endless cycle of repetition… Now this. She can’t lose Mimi too, she just can’t.

She doesn’t know how to survive without both of them.

“Stop!” Jyn bursts out just as they reach her apartment building, then buries her face in her hands. Cassian clams up, but she can feel his worried gaze boring into her. “Everything sucks!”

With that, she dramatically plops down on the front steps, removing her hands from her face to rub at her temples. Everything sucks is an understatement, but she doesn’t have the words to describe the heavy weight sitting on her chest. Tears prick at her eyes, and it takes all her energy to keep them at bay. Crying in public in front of your ex-boyfriend was not on the agenda today.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Cassian hesitating for a second before he joins her.

“You wanna go upstairs? Rest a little?”

“No.”

“Okay. How about those posters then? I can make them if you want.”

“I can make them myself!” she snaps, angrier than she should be.

“Okay. Do you want me to go then?”

“No.”

“Right.” Cassian clears his throat and falls silent. For a while, neither of them speaks as they stare out at the street while the night grows darker around them. Clearly, she’s sending mixed signals here. She should say something. Tell him that he can go, that he’s already done enough. She can handle it from here. But she isn’t sure she can. Selfishly, she doesn’t want to let him go yet — because then, she’ll be truly alone.

No cat, no boyfriend. Just Jyn in her all too empty apartment with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company.

“Hey…” It’s Cassian’s gentle voice that pulls her back to the present and makes her realize those damn tears leaked from her eyes anyway. And now she can’t stop. She wipes at her face furiously, sniffing, but they keep falling, and when Cassian reaches for her hand and pulls her into his arms, she doesn’t fight it.

She buries her face in his shoulder and lets herself weep for a few seconds. Cassian’s arm circles around her waist, one hand rhythmically stroking her hair. He doesn’t say anything, but she’s glad, preferring his silent but solid presence over meaningless words of reassurance. It doesn’t erase the ache in her chest but calms her down long enough to stop sobbing and pull herself together.

“I’m sorry,” she says when she pulls away, wiping at her eyes. Despite their five-month-long relationship, it’s only the second time she let herself cry around him. She doesn’t think Cassian would judge her or make fun of it, but it’s hard to override two decades worth of self-preservation instincts. Don’t show weakness, don’t show vulnerability, don’t give them ammo to hurt you; it’s always been one of her most important rules.

But it’s also why she broke up with him, isn’t it? She’s never considered that you can’t build a relationship on mistrust because she’s never had any that mattered. Now she has to figure out if she could unlearn those habits and keep Cassian, or let him go for good.

“And not just for sniveling all over you,” Jyn continues, speaking slowly as she thinks about what she wants to tell him and how to say it. “I’m sorry for chasing you away. I was just… I was…”

“You got scared,” Cassian finishes for her, getting to the heart of the matter without preamble. Jyn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He lifts a shoulder, a quiet huff on his lips that almost sounds amused. “I know you. Better than you think. Better than you probably want me to.”

“I… That’s not true. I want you to know me.” She can understand how it might not seem that way, but it’s true. Deep in her heart, she wants nothing more than to be seen and understood by him. It’s just all that fear getting in the way, whispering cruel things in her ear and making her question herself. You’re not good enough for him. He doesn’t want you like you want him. He’s not going to stick around forever. It’s better to cut your losses now while you can. Leave him before he can leave you.

Her armor may have protected her for years, but it’s now become the number one enemy working against her.

“But if you knew,” Jyn begins, her mouth pulling into a frown, “why didn’t you say anything?”

Cassian’s gaze drops to his lap. “Jyn, I can’t force you to want to be with me. I can’t force you not to run. You have to figure that out for yourself. I thought… if you’re ready, you’ll come back.”

“And if I’m not?” she asks, a strange tremor in her voice.

“Then you’re not.” He looks up, and his dark brown eyes and long eyelashes mesmerize her for a second. He’s so close, so warm, so pretty; she has to ball her hands into fists to keep from reaching out. Touching him has become natural like breathing. She doesn’t know how to quit it, quit him.

Fuck, it’s not fair. How is she expected to think clearly when he’s watching her like that? Fantasizing about kissing him breathless is not a productive train of thought at the moment.

“I want to be with you, but it has to be your choice to come back.”

So maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s the way he looks at her, maybe it’s his smell, his warmth, his magnetism, maybe it’s that she doesn’t want to be stuck behind her castle walls anymore. Safe but alone.

Or maybe it’s the way she’s struggled to sleep at night, kept awake by the memory of their time together and how happy he’s made her, but she tells him, “I think I can try harder.”

“Jyn, is that Mimi?”

Jyn blinks, surprised by his response for a second. Then she remembers. She isn’t even sure Cassian heard what she said, but when she turns and finds Mimi strutting down the sidewalk towards them like nothing was amiss, all thoughts of their relationship issues escape her brain.

Gasping, Jyn shoots up and runs to snatch Mimi into her arms, hardly daring to believe it. She’s come back. She’s okay. A little dirty, and positively grumpy at being held like this, but otherwise unharmed.

Jyn’s almost lost all hope, and the relief that floods her chest now threatens to bring on another wave of tears. Biting down hard on her lip, she tightens her grip around Mimi and breathes in deeply. She’s cried enough today.

“Where have you been?” Jyn demands, but her voice is too high and shaky to sound scolding at all. “We’ve been looking all over for you, young lady!”

“Yeah.” Cassian comes to stand beside her, reaching out a hand to rub Mimi under her chin because, as Jyn knows from experience, he just can’t help it. “You scared us.”

Us, Jyn thinks, sending a small smile his way. A team.

Mimi lets out a belligerent meow and starts wiggling in Jyn’s arms. By the way she wags her tail, Jyn knows she’s getting annoyed at being held like this, but tough luck. She’s not letting go until they’re back safe and sound in her apartment. That’s what you get when you run away from home and scare your parents half to death.

Readjusting her grip on Mimi, she turns to Cassian and gives him a tiny, hopeful smile. “You wanna come up for dinner? We can talk some more.”

“That depends.” His eyes sparkle with playfulness. “Are you cooking?”

Jyn lets a bark of laughter. “I can be convinced to leave the task to you.”

“In that case, I’m right behind you.”

As he always has been.

Hiding her smile, Jyn turns and leads the way back to her apartment. She’s taken the leap, she’s chosen to fight, and she’s never been one to back down from a challenge. So screw the insidious voices whispering in her ear; she’s not going to let them win and cost her something important.

She has her cat, and she has her almost-boyfriend, and she’s ready to give this another shot.

[forcebookish]

I don't care what anyone says I hope topmew is endgame and top takes mew away from that nasty friend group 🙏 I know some people like to victimize certain characters but let's be real here they are all shitty friends that constantly overstep his boundaries and I'm sure we don't need to get into all of Boston's atrocities. I guess the thing that gets me is people act like mew always has to carry the baggage of his friends and be the bigger person no matter what but somehow top is the one that is irredeemable and should not be forgiven under any circumstances?? If he wasn't cornered, manipulated, and coerced I would agree but that is definitely not the case here. Anyway this was longer than I expected and I'm not the best with words so I hope this at least makes some sense lol.

you're making perfect sense, anon!

i've seen folks try to say that boston is the "real victim" in his "relationship" with top...?????????? someone made a whole thread on twitter. if i had to say "no one owes anyone sex" once, i'd have said it too many times - but i've had to say it MULTIPLE times!!! what did top even do to boston? tell him he doesn't want to sleep with him?? tell him "stop?" nearly cry (twice) when boston told him that mew might be cheating on him? push him away when he wouldn't let go? wow, such abuse, so victim🙄 top out here literally just trying to stay in his own lane, date a guy, and work on the hostel while boston can't keep his creepy hands to himself😒 but i guess it's boston's god-given right to touch people who don't wanna be touched, apparently😒😒

and people got mad at mew for being "mean" to ray when he was frustrated about ray calling him drunk in the middle of the night. he even says, "i'm not picking you up again." again. he has had to help him out of these situations he puts himself into before. pathetic little meow meow or not, that is a huge burden to put on your friends time and time again. the drama already established that ray tells his friends he loves them when he's drunk, mew had no reason to think that ray was going through a crisis until he actually heard he was crying. AND THEN CAME RUNNING TO HIM!

re: mew's shitty friends (hey, cheum you can stay!), what's cool about the relationships in this drama is how many characters mirror each other, not being the same but being flipped and on opposite ends of the spectrum. the most obvious example is top and mew: top being sexually active, open to new experiences, and LOUD during sex, while mew is celibate, likes to stick to books, and hardly even breathes during sex. and for topmew, i personally think that's a strength!

but ray and boston are also mirrors to each other: ray looking up to/loving mew and boston hating/looking down on mew. and they both kinda ruin his life about it lol

and yeah, i really, really want endgame topmew. honestly, they seem to have the strongest relationship (at least among the boys and including the friendships) in the drama. i can't, and absolutely don't want to, see mew reconcile with boston. maybe ray, depending on how things go down - but i'm so not into the idea of mewray, because it smacks of "wearing him down." he held that torch for years.

i would never say that what ray has done is as bad as boston, but it's another case of not respecting someone's boundaries when they have firmly rejected them. (it's not just because it's not a forcebook ship!!! i promise!!! ...i mean, it is a little bit, of course😅)

and i find it very ugly that it wasn't until top and mew had someone serious in their lives that ray and boston couldn't deal. i've been saying this before the drama aired, but i really think that top and mew would have just had a normal, you meet, you date, you fall in love relationship (even with the drug use, it's not impossible to work through that as a couple), if it weren't for ray and boston actively trying to sabotage their relationship - if they were actually good friends. and the drama seems to be delivering on that theory. seems to be the point, actually.

thanks for popping in, anon! prayer circle for endgame topmew 🙏🕯️🙏🕯️🙏🕯️🙏🕯️🙏🕯️

[piosplayhouse]

I don't know what brought in the su she ask(s) but I see him mentioned and immediately go like that little jumping black cat with all the emoji hearts around it

I love that man. I have so many thoughts about him. He's not even really that rude or mediocre or any of the slack he gets from being seen through wwx's narrative. He isn't ugly - he's a Lan, apparently there's no such thing as an ugly Lan - but he's forgettable because wwx is forgetful. He isn't weak or mediocre - he is able to hold his own against lwj, and jgy put his trust in him for a reason - but he's subpar because no one holds a candle to lwj in wwx's eyes. He's not even all that rude - he's on the same level of pettiness as anyone else honestly - but because he took offense to lwj, to wwx he may as well have pissed on his boots.

Su She isn't a saint. No one in the book is. He still did many awful things, most if not all of them without the excuse of being pushed to doing them. His morals are just as fucked as everyone else's - but that's because he's just as pathetically human as everyone else is. He just isn't seen that way because his character is literally doomed by wwx's narrative, who refuses to see him as anything else but evil. Su She is literally just some guy. A loyal to fault one, who holds probably unproportional grudges to slights probably unintentional, but he's just. A guy.

and I love him

(which is funny because it started as a joke when no one else in the server liked him so I made it my job to and then became surprisingly very good at it)

anyways have a good day tell the cang qiong cat clan I said meow 🍊

YES!!

What you said in the second paragraph about wwx's lwj vision destroying su she before su she even did anything is so funny because it reminds me of xie lian just randomly thinking about how plain yin yu looks every time he shows up like ok gay ass who taught you to be mean!!

But you're so valid in your su she passions I'm in total respect. Actually just tonight (when Im writing this before it gets tossed into the queue) i came across an interview where the hosts asked mxtx if su she had such complex morals because he was in a relationship with jgy and mxtx was like ... no??? it was so funny. He didn't choose the pick me girl life the pick me girl life chose him.

[small-artist-oc-showdown]

A collaborative OC story with your partner, huh? Well it looks like YOUR PARTNER’S OC FROM THE SAME STORY IS HERE AS WELL!! SAY HELLO TO @insertsona’s LUCIFER!! He’s ALSO some kind of canine who goes by he/him!

...Oh. Ohhhhh boy. Fun fact, this was the first REALLY long submission I got! Cut time baybee :3

“oh god where do i start. uh. he has a toyhouse here -> https://toyhou.se/17736012.lucifer 

lucifer is a character in my partner and i's collaborative oc story!!! hes the oldest brother of five hes aroace hes my poor little meow meow he even becomes a twitch streamer (canonly)((after he gets better)) 

his introduction to the story is through being spoken about negatively . he casts a shadow over his younger brothers narrative and leaves an aching hole in everyone else's. when he finally makes a physical appearance it only hurts. 

hes a guy who spends so much time trying to forget the past that its arguably all he thinks about. a guy that holds on and doesnt let go even though he wishes he could. a guy that is so pathetic and yet so strong (to me.) a guy that despite his best efforts he is still just like his family and that every decision hes made linked back to how much he Cared. how even though he comes off as cold and distant below that he Cares. he cares so much and it Hurts and its killing him a little and it Scares him. 

he just wants his family to be okay even if he cant be!!!! he wants the best for the people he loves even if that doesnt include him!!!!! he wants things to be okay for the others and hes so scared and . he doesnt know what to do or how he can fix anything and he cant bring himself to think about what already has happened and everything hurts so much and he Hates It and he wants to move on but god he Cant and hes still holding onto an old friendship even after everything even though he wants to hate that old friend and . your honor 

he tries so hard to be strong he tries so hard to keep himself together but he is slowly falling apart . he cut out his own siblings in an act motivated by some twisted concept of protecting them . he cant handle change to the point that change breaks him . but he wants things to change. he wants things to get better. hes tired of this. but he cant handle change. hes tired, hes overworked, hes frustrated, hes falling apart, hes Afraid. hes Afraid, he is Afraid, He Is Afraid.”

Poor guy :[ Why should you vote for him?

“a vote for lucifer is a vote for pathetic men everywhere!!! hes got all the best dynamics . tragic siblings . tragic childhood friends . tragic losses . you name it he has it (tragic edition) . he has soo many issues hes like a wet paper towel . hes my son wet who has every disease he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone do you understand me 

you should vote luci because i am literally obsessed with him and can go on a very long rant about him unprompted . i have a 243 song playlist for him that i still add more songs to . is this anything”

[the-himawari]

A3! Troupe Event Translation - Journey to the Colours (5/11)

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

Kumon: Kazu-san?

Kazunari: Ah, Kumopi. Over here, over here!

Kumon: Huh? Oh, are these pancakes?

Kazunari: Nope, they’re pao cakes! Omimi made them from how they’re described in the script~. What’s more, I got some Chinese tea from Aririn yesterday. I brewed some up. Let’s have a tea party!

Kumon: …Sure.

Kazunari: Pao cakes are made with wheat flour and have cream sandwiched inside of them. They’re kinda like Chinese steamed buns, dont’cha think? I know you’re not a big fan of sweet stuff. But they say that sugar is good when you're tired, and we kept the sweetness low for you. We even left out the cream.

Kumon: It’s yummy…

Kazunari: I know, right~! Omimi was curious about your thoughts, so let him know later! Kumopi. You looked kinda down. All of us were worried.

Kumon: …Sorry about rehearsal today.

Kazunari: Nah. Don’t worry about it. You know, you can talk to me if something happened.

Kumon: … …Kazu-san, have you ever had any regrets?

Kazunari: Eh?

Kumon: …Never mind. You know what, it’s nothing! Sorry for saying something weird! (There’s no way I can tell him that all I can think about is the baseball team lately, so I might have some lingering attachments to it.) (Everyone’s worried about me. I have to do better to pull myself together as the lead—!) Thanks for the food! I feel better now! I’ll thank Omi-san and Homare-san later.

*runs off*

Kazunari: Kumopi…

-pause-

Kazunari: … (I couldn’t ask about anything in the end… I’m so useless.) (“Regrets”, huh…)

Cat: Meow…

Kazunari: ?

*something topples*

Kazunari: (There was a cry just now… And there’s a weird sound coming from my room…)

-pause-

Kazunari: Mukkun?

Cat: Meow.

Kazunari: !? Ah… are you Sumi’s friend…?

Cat: Meow.

Misumi: Kazu, have you seen a kitty~… ah! Here it is!

Kazunari: So you are Sumi’s little feline friend~.

Misumi: We were playing in my room, but then it ran away under my nose. Sorry your room’s a mess now. I’ll clean it up!

Kazunari: Don’t worry about it. It’s fine! You wanna play, right, kitty? You can take it outside.

Cat: Meow~.

Misumi: Okay… thanks, Kazu!

*leaves*

Kazunari: (I see~. This cat was the source of the sound earlier.) (Anyways, it looks like a hurricane went through here~. The cat even got into the closet.) …Hm? (This is… the paintbrush I used when I was taking my exams at my private art school…) (It’s worn out and I thought I threw it away already. But I see I brought it over.) …

*door opens*

Muku: !?

Yuki: What the heck?

Muku: What happened to the room, Kazu-san?

Kazunari: Ah~, y’know~. I’m in the middle of a major clean up!

Yuki: Hmm?

Muku: Ah, were you able to talk with Kyu-chan?

Kazunari: I did, but…

-pause-

Muku: Regrets…?

Kazunari: He didn't go into any details, but maybe that's why Kumopi was so out of it during rehearsal.

Yuki: Kumon’s regrets…

Kazunari: This is just my guess… but it might be about baseball.

Yuki: …Come to think of it, Kumon bumped into a friend from his little league days when we were doing a street act the other day. He told Kumon it was a shame he quit baseball. Maybe something was plaguing Kumon’s mind.

Muku: That might be it… Kyu-chan loved baseball with all his heart, after all. I parted from track and field which I loved too, so I think I can empathize with how he feels. I’ll try talking with Kyu-chan.

Kazunari: Thanks, Mukkun. I’m Kumopi’s co-lead, but I couldn’t support him at all. Pathetic, huh~?

Yuki: Not really. Everyone has their own way of being there for others. It’s true that you saved me during our Sardines play, but there's no need to get too worked up about it just because you're the co-lead.

Muku: He’s right. Just watch over Kyu-chan in your own way, Kazu-san.

Kazunari: —. Bring it in for thank you hug, you two!

*pulls both of them close*

Muku: Wah, it hurts.

Yuki: It’s painfully hot.

Kazunari: Hey!?

---

previous | next

[scp-torment]

while adam is wettlesweeping it up here’s MY wettle propaganda

7000 is not the first article he appeared in! before 7000 was published, i read the article that first established his luck anomaly and i was INSTANTLY invested. dr wettle just lives like this? all the time? the poorest little meow meow of all time? does anyone see this man? i was ECSTATIC when the 7000 contest dropped and there was a whole article about him and i lost it when its rating climbed up and up and it won. it won by a lot. because it is so so so unbelievably good

the article looks long at first glance, but the overwhelming majority of it is dialogue + there’s loads of images. it flies by but itll leave you with an impression. itll make you laugh. itll make you feel shockingly emotionally crushed. itll leave you satisfied. its a humorous article that takes itself seriously. it’s part of a canon if you want more, but it’s fully, completely standalone if you don’t.

wettle is a sopping, pathetic, wet cat of a man. hes part of the reason i made an scp sideblog. he’s a grumpy, twice-divorced, 50-something asshole that you will feel emotions that you’re not ready for about. 

oh you dont like him? well surprise! theres two other plotlines in the article to follow! scp 7000 is a story about a global breakdown of coherent probability. wettle is a vitally important perspective on that, but not the only one. the second plotline is about dr dan (the guy from scp 096) and his quest to figure out what is going on with this anomaly. the third plotline is about the O5s and the chaos insurgency’s attempt to gain control over it. despite the appearance of complexity, the whole story is actually quite easy to grasp and in the end its so simple and im trying SO HARD not to spoil it all over the place. but it is a really investing story that you should vote for

you really have to read it. and once you read it, you’ll say “wow, that was really an investing story,” and you’ll vote scp 7000.

WETTLESWEEP WETTLECON LETS GO. in the wise words of adam "dark" hopping from july 25 2022, "#also omg its dr . william wettle#43s own fail blorbo i know fucking nothing about this man"

I can see SCP-7000 is linked to the Site-43 Canon hub, but I don't see a particular section for him or group of stories, so you can't just send me a long ask about other articles he's in and not tell me which ones they are!

If Wettle makes it to the finals, I'll link them all properly, so if you want even more content for the people just finding this to read…