#i’m not going to tag any of these characters

[rootedinrevisions]

Just...Stay: Part 2

SUMMARY: Tyler has to prove himself and win back your trust after nearly losing you for good. As he tries to commit to building a life together, the past tensions resurface, challenging both of you to confront the insecurities and fears that have kept you apart.

PART 1 HERE

A/N: I tried to write this using some of the ideas that you guys had for where YOU would like to see the story go (ie: a little bit of Tyler groveling, her moving on, and Tyler having to try and win her back! Hope you like it! xx

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You stand on the porch, watching Tyler’s taillights disappear down the long, winding road. The ache in your chest tightens, and you whisper to yourself, He’s gone. This time, for real. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the porch railing as if it can steady the chaos churning inside you. You’ve waited so many times for him to turn around, to decide he wanted you as much as you wanted him. But he’d made his choice, and you can’t keep waiting for him to want you.

With a shaky breath, you went back inside, the echo of his last words still hanging heavy in the air. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone, already pressing the familiar contact without needing to see the name. When the line connected and your mother answered, you could barely get out a word. But she didn’t need you to; she recognized the silence, the breathless, broken sound of you holding back tears.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, with that knowing sadness in her voice. “You don’t have to say a thing. I know.”

The crack in her voice brought the tears you’d been fighting up to the surface. The dam broke, and everything you’d been holding in—the hope, the ache, the final goodbye—poured out, leaving you unable to respond as she filled the silence with soft, soothing words.

“I’m coming over,” she assured you. “Just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, wiping away tears as you settled back against the counter, feeling like the empty space Tyler left behind was somehow everywhere now, pressing in around you. The quiet house felt so much bigger without him in it, the emptiness swallowing every corner that once held laughter, whispered promises, and the comfort of his steady presence—even if it was always temporary.

Later, you and your mom sit in the living room, the stillness almost too much to bear. She’s wrapped her arms around you, her gentle strength holding you together when you feel like you’re falling apart. You try to hold back the tears, but the weight of everything—of hoping he’d turn around, hoping he’d realize he was making a mistake, hoping he’d come back up those steps to say he was staying—finally breaks.

Your mom rubs small circles on your back, her voice soft and steady. “He made his choice, and someday, he’ll understand what he’s lost,” she murmurs. “You did everything you could, honey. You deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”

You nod, though it doesn’t stop the ache gnawing at you. For the first time, though, you start to let the truth settle in: that you deserve more than the waiting, the hoping. That you deserve someone who chooses you fully, every single day.

Later that night you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh light making your face look even more worn from the day, you brace yourself for another quiet night. You slip into your pajamas, ready to try and sleep through the ache in your chest, when your phone lights up on the countertop. Tyler’s name stares back at you, as if daring you to pick up.

Your heart thuds painfully, and for a split second, you’re tempted. He’s calling, just like he said he would. But you can’t answer this time. You can’t let him back in, not after everything. So you hit the red button, sending his call to silence.

Thirty seconds later, your phone lights up again—his name filling the screen once more. The resolve you’d tried so hard to build threatens to crumble, but you steady yourself, knowing you need to stay strong. You told him what would happen if he left. You’d made it clear, and this time, you have to stay firm with that.

With a deep breath, you hit “Ignore” again, feeling both the sting of regret and the strength of your own boundaries. It hurts, but you know it’s what you need to do.

You turn your phone face-down on the bed, trying to ignore the nagging pull to check it. But when you do, Tyler’s message is there, waiting.

Tyler: Can we talk? I just want to talk to you.

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of every unsaid word between you. He wants to talk, but he still isn’t saying what you need to hear—no apologies, no acknowledgment of what he’s putting you through, just the same vague promises. Another message appears as you sit, reading it with an ache building in your chest.

Tyler: Please. Talk to me darlin.

You want to answer; some part of you always will. But there’s no real shift in his words, no sign that he understands what you need. It’s just Tyler reaching out like he always does, and leaving you to carry the weight when he pulls away.

So, you let the messages sit. They stare back at you, blue checkmarks confirming that you’ve seen them, leaving him on read for once. It takes everything in you, but you put your phone on silent and push it to the side. This time, you’re standing firm.

* * * *

A few months had come and gone since you’d last heard Tyler’s voice, and while the ache lingered, day by day, you’d felt it dull. The first few weeks had been the hardest—filled with reminders of him in places you hadn’t even thought to look. But with time, you’d found a new rhythm. You packed up his things and stored them in the barn loft, out of sight and mostly out of mind. There’d been a few days when you’d thought he might call again, but each week that passed with no message made it easier to let him go.

Then, just a few nights ago, you’d bumped into Matt at the bar. The quiet, shy boy you remembered from high school was still there, but he’d grown more self-assured, his conversations easy and light. He’d listened intently, asked thoughtful questions, and laughed at your jokes, which was a nice change after months of heartache. When he’d asked if you’d join him for dinner, his eyes hopeful yet calm, you found yourself agreeing without hesitation.

Now, as you finish getting ready, you catch a glimmer of that anticipation you thought you’d lost. It’s a soft, hopeful excitement, different from the wild spark you’d once had for Tyler, but maybe that’s exactly what you need.

As you slip on your shoes and give yourself one last look in the mirror, a strange mixture of nerves and excitement tingles in your stomach. It’s been so long since you let yourself look forward to something like this—putting on a new dress, curling your hair, and swiping on lipstick just to feel a little spark. It feels nice to step into a night that’s full of possibility, even if it’s quieter than the whirlwind you once imagined with Tyler.

Matt isn’t the kind of guy who will leave you on edge, wondering what comes next. That thought is comforting as you smooth the fabric of your dress and check your reflection one last time. He’s steady, warm, and easy to talk to, and when he’d asked you out last week, you’d felt a genuine flicker of excitement—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself in ages.

Your phone chimes, breaking the silence of your room. You glance over, expecting it to be a text from Matt saying he’s on his way, but instead, you freeze. 

Tyler’s name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, everything else fades.

Tyler: Hey. I know it’s been a while, but can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot. Just… if you have a minute.

You stare at the message, feeling a swirl of emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s been weeks since his last message, and each day that passed without one felt like another small step forward. You’ve been letting him go—pushing his things up into the barn loft, moving him out of your thoughts inch by inch. But tonight, of all nights, he’s suddenly there, reaching out again.

The phone chimes again, and another message appears.

Tyler: I’m sorry. I miss you. Just thought you should know.

Your heart clenches, but this time, you feel a new kind of strength holding you back. You let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that you deserve someone who doesn’t make you wait and wonder, who doesn’t leave just to come back again. Tyler’s voice and his words, tempting as they are, can’t keep pulling you under. Not anymore.

With that, you tuck your phone into your bag, letting his message go unanswered as you grab your keys. Tonight, you’re stepping out into something new, something steady and full of hope—maybe even something that finally lets you move on.

At dinner, you and Matt settle into a cozy booth near the window, the glow of candlelight casting a soft warmth across the table. You offer a smile, and he returns it, looking just as eager and nervous as you feel. The waiter takes your orders, and for a moment, you both fumble with your menus, using them as a buffer against the quiet that settles between you.

“So,” Matt says, clearing his throat, “how’s work been treating you?”

You launch into a polite summary, and he nods along, sharing his own stories from the hardware store, a few of which earn a chuckle. But as you finish, another silence slips in, and you feel that small, familiar tension build in your chest. You drum your fingers lightly on the table, scanning your mind for something—anything—to say. Just as the silence is about to become too much, Matt asks if you’re excited for the weekend, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

You tell yourself it’s probably just nerves, that this is normal. After all, it’s been a couple of years since you’ve been on a real date, and first dates are always a little awkward. But as you lift your glass to take a sip, you can’t help but think back to the times you’d come to this same restaurant with Tyler. How the conversation would flow so easily, sometimes even late into the night. You’d swap stories, share laughs, and talk about everything and nothing all at once. There was never a lull, never a forced smile or the need to fill the quiet.

You catch yourself before the memory sinks any deeper and shake your head, forcing a smile as Matt picks up on a new thread of conversation.

Stepping outside the restaurant after dinner with Matt, you hold the door open just long enough to make sure he’s following when you feel yourself bump into someone headed in. You stumble back, and strong hands instinctively reach out to steady you. You begin to apologize, breathless from the sudden collision, only to look up and freeze. 

Those familiar, green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything around you blurs. Tyler stands before you, in a red button-up, worn jeans, and that off-white Stetson you know all too well. He murmurs your name, his voice thick with something unreadable as he holds you in place for a heartbeat longer than necessary. 

But before you can react, Matt is by your side, his hand pressing warmly against your lower back, gently pulling you away. 

Tyler releases you, his gaze lingering as Matt asks if you’re okay. You nod, feeling a bit dazed, and allow Matt to guide you toward the street.

Tyler calls your name again, his voice softer, a thread of desperation woven through it. But you glance back only briefly before following Matt down the sidewalk, his arm curling around your shoulders protectively as he continues talking, oblivious to the moment that just passed. 

You try to steady yourself, but the weight of Tyler’s gaze is still on you, even as you walk away.

Watching you leave with someone else beside you, Tyler’s heart twists in a way he didn’t see coming. The sight of Matt’s hand resting comfortably on your shoulder, of you turning away from him so resolutely, strikes deeper than any storm he’s ever chased. It’s in this moment that something cracks, and he realizes with painful clarity just how much he’s let slip through his fingers. The thought of anyone else sharing the moments you once shared together is a weight he can’t shake. As he watches you disappear into the night, Tyler makes a silent vow to win you back, whatever it takes.

Matt drives you home, the quiet hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between you as you watch the streets blur past. He’s considerate, not pushing for conversation, as though sensing the hints of distraction lingering in your gaze. When he pulls up to your house, he steps out first, hurrying around to open your door. You offer a grateful smile, following him to your porch as you fish for your keys.

Standing under the dim porch light, you both pause, caught in that familiar, tentative moment that usually ends with a goodnight kiss. Matt smiles, leaning in with a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s hoping for more than the simple goodbye you’re about to offer. And though part of you wants to bridge that gap—maybe even craves the closure it could bring—Tyler’s face flashes in your mind, his eyes catching yours across that restaurant entrance, and you can’t shake the thought.

You lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Matt’s cheek before stepping back, your hand lightly on his arm. He seems to understand, though a hint of disappointment flickers in his eyes. “Goodnight, Matt,” you say softly, your hand dropping back to your side.

“Goodnight,” he replies, a warm smile slipping back into place. He pulls you in for a quick hug, his embrace steady and reassuring, but he doesn’t push for more. 

Watching him walk back to his car, you feel a pang of guilt. Matt’s a good man, and he deserves someone whose heart isn’t scattered across memories and what-ifs.

You let out a slow breath as his car pulls away, whispering into the stillness around you. You know you’re not quite there yet.

Minutes later you are in the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water when you hear it. When you hear him. The rumble of his truck reaches you before the sight of it does, that familiar low, steady hum breaking the quiet night. You freeze in place, feeling the sound more than hearing it, the way it seems to settle into your bones and send your heart racing. You step over to the kitchen window, barely breathing as you watch him pull up, headlights cutting through the darkness until he shuts the engine off.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, just sits there, his silhouette still and contemplative. You’d know the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, anywhere. 

Slowly, he climbs out and makes his way up the path, boots crunching on the gravel. With each step he takes your mind races, grasping for words, trying to brace for the conversation you know he’s here to have.

When he reaches the front porch, he pauses, hands on his hips as he lets out a long breath. His eyes flick to the window, and you step back instinctively, as though he might see you. 

You feel a sharp pang in your chest, the past month of silence cracking open like fresh heartbreak. Then he’s knocking, the sound a low, insistent rhythm that echoes through the house, reaching you where you stand, rooted in place.

You take a deep, steadying breath, one hand reaching to your chest as if to calm the beat of your heart. You can’t avoid him now. Whatever he has to say, you need to hear it. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it as you remind yourself to stand strong, to keep your heart guarded.

With one last breath, you open the door, meeting Tyler’s gaze—the same gaze that’s held you and let you go too many times to count. Tyler’s eyes find yours, raw and pleading, and his face softens in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. He takes a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush like he’s been holding them back for too long. 

“I know I messed up. I know I’ve given you every reason to walk away,” he begins, his voice low and thick with emotion. “But I can’t lose you. I can’t…not like this.”

His hands run through his hair, and for a second, he looks at the ground, gathering himself. When he looks back up, his eyes glisten, and he steps closer, his words growing more insistent. 

“These last few months, you not talking to me… I can’t even explain how much that hurt. How much I’ve missed you—missed everything we had. I kept thinking, maybe if I left you alone, you’d be better off. But I was wrong, and now I can’t stand not being near you.”

He takes another breath, his voice catching slightly as he adds, “I want to come home. I want to be with you. I want to come back and stay this time…if you’ll have me.”

You feel your heart stutter, your mind racing to process what he’s just said. You’ve wanted to hear those words so many times before, but now…now that he’s here, your defenses come rushing up. 

You try to keep your voice steady, shaking your head as you take a step back. “Tyler…you don’t just get to come back whenever you feel like it. You left. You made that choice, and I—” But you stop, seeing the way he looks at you, eyes shining with the tears he’s trying to keep back.

He’s holding his breath, his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to hold himself together. The vulnerability in his face hits you like a wave, breaking down the walls you’ve been trying so hard to build.

“Please,” he whispers, voice barely above a breath. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I…I just need you to know that you’re it for me. You’re home. Not just this house or the land…you, darlin’. Anywhere you are, that’s where I want to be. I don’t want to run anymore.”

You feel a knot in your chest tighten, torn between the longing in his words and the pain of what’s happened.

“Tyler,” you begin, voice unsteady, “I can’t do this again. I can’t open myself up just to watch you walk away.”

His hand reaches out, hesitating before he rests it on your arm, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “I’m not going anywhere this time,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “Not unless you tell me to.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s here, truly here, every bit of himself laid bare for you. And for the first time, you see a man who’s willing to fight—fight to be with you, fight for a future together, fight to make up for every broken promise.

You cross your arms over your chest, the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air between you. For a second, it almost feels like you can’t breathe. His words are exactly what you’ve wanted to hear, but there’s still a part of you that’s scared—scared to believe him, scared to fall for this all over again. You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from the emotions that have flooded your chest.

“How do I know?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper but carrying the weight of every question you’ve been holding onto. “How do I know this time is going to be different? How do I know you’re not just saying what I want to hear, again?”

He pauses, his face tightening for a brief moment, before his eyes soften, his sincerity cutting through the uncertainty. “All I can do is prove it to you,” he says quietly. His words are steady, but there’s an ache beneath them, something that makes your heart skip. “I can’t change the past, but I can damn sure try to make up for it.”

He glances toward his truck, his hand dropping to the side before he looks back at you. “I brought an extra bag with me this time,” he says, his voice steady with a quiet determination. “I was hoping you’d let me leave it here. Maybe when I come back in a couple weeks I could come back with the rest of my stuff…and that you’ll let me stay.” He looks at you, his eyes open and honest, no pretense, no bravado—just the raw truth of a man who wants nothing more than to rebuild what he lost.

You feel the sharp sting of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Tyler Owens, the man who once seemed so lost, so unsure of anything but the moment, is telling you he’s ready to plan. You feel the ground beneath you shift as he continues.

“I’ve talked to Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani about it,” he says, almost as if it’s something he’s already put in motion. “I’ve been thinking about moving up here, about making it work. I know it’s not just about me anymore. I know what I did, and I know what it’s going to take for you to trust me again. I want to be here, with you. And I’ve already been figuring out how I can make it work with storm chasing. With the team.”

The weight of his words hits you like a freight train. Tyler, who’d never seemed the type to plan, to make a life out of more than just surviving, is telling you that he’s thought ahead. He’s thought about you—about living with you. The logistics of his work, where he’d fit in with the team, how he could make it all work—things he’d never even considered before.

He never once brought up the idea of moving in, of building a future with you, before. Now, he’s here, telling you that he’s ready. And as much as your heart aches with uncertainty, something inside of you can’t help but feel the tiniest thread of hope tugging at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find the right words, trying to keep your guard up, even as your heart beats louder with each passing second.

“How do I know this is real?” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

Tyler’s eyes are locked on yours, his expression soft and full of sincerity, the words that leave his lips quiet but sure. “You’ll know by what I do. Not by what I say.”

As you stand there, the flickering hope mingling with every guarded part of you, you can’t hold back anymore. You have to ask him, to hear him explain it in a way that might finally make sense.

“Why, Tyler?” you say, your voice laced with hurt and frustration. “Why do you do this? The hot and cold? Coming back and then leaving just when I start to trust that you’ll stay? Why am I never enough for you to choose me?”

Your words hang in the air, heavy, but Tyler doesn’t flinch. He looks at you, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable cross his face—an expression you don’t think you’ve seen before. He takes a shaky breath, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to find the words.

“It’s not that you’re not enough,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “You’ve always been enough—more than enough. It’s me who hasn’t been enough. I’ve been scared… scared of needing someone the way I need you, of letting myself feel things that deep. I kept convincing myself that I’d be fine on my own, that I didn’t need anyone, but that was never true.”

He pauses, glancing away before he meets your gaze again, his eyes intense and filled with regret.

“Seeing you moving on, watching you with him tonight…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “It made me feel something I never want to feel again. The thought of you with anyone else—it made me sick. It took almost losing you for me to see that I can’t keep doing this. That if I kept running, I was going to lose you, really lose you. And I’d have no one to blame but myself.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers hesitant at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. When you don’t, he takes your hand fully, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything,” he admits, voice heavy with sincerity. “I know I messed up. But being without you, thinking I’d lost you for good… it’s been hell. And if there’s any part of you that can still trust me, even a little, I want to show you that I’m ready to be here for real. To stay. I can’t keep running from the one thing that matters most to me.”

Tyler’s gaze doesn’t waver from yours as he takes a slow step closer, his hands resting at his sides, waiting. He opens his mouth, then closes it, the tension in the air so thick you could almost touch it. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but you can hear the vulnerability underneath.

"Please, just… give me a chance," he says, his words hanging in the air.

You swallow hard, your heart caught in a war between hope and doubt. You’ve been hurt before, but everything in you is screaming to believe him. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened, everything that’s led to this moment. And then you open your eyes again, meeting his gaze.

"Tyler," you begin, your voice softer now, but still firm. "This is your last chance. If you mess this up, there’s no coming back from it. I can’t keep doing this. I won’t."

He nods immediately, his face lighting up with the smallest hint of relief. "I swear, I won’t. I won’t mess it up." His voice is more confident now, as if something in him has shifted—something that wasn’t there before.

You feel a knot in your chest loosen, though doubt still clings at the edges. But as you stand there, looking at him—really looking at him, all of the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty—starts to fade away. It’s like for the first time in so long, you feel like you can let your guard down, just a little. You give a small nod, the corners of your lips lifting despite the tears threatening to fall.

"I’m trusting you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make me regret it."

Tyler doesn’t say a word. Instead, he steps in closer, his hands gently cupping your face, as if he’s scared you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on to you. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a slow, tender motion. The air between you both feels charged, full of something real, something raw, something that hasn’t been there in so long.

And then, without another word, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft but intense. His mouth moves against yours with such tenderness, like he’s trying to pour everything into it—his apology, his promises, his love—everything he’s been holding back. You melt into the kiss, feeling his warmth, his sincerity, his desire for you.

The kiss deepens slowly, as if testing the waters, but it’s gentle, filled with the kind of care and emotion that you’ve been missing for so long. And in that moment, all of the fear and doubt you’ve been carrying seems to dissolve, replaced by something that feels like home.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both stand there for a few moments, foreheads resting against each other, breathing the same air. Tyler smiles against your skin, and you can feel the weight of everything shifting.

"I won’t mess this up," he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Dialogue

Dialogue - a written composition in which two or more characters are represented as conversing.

Crafting dialogue is an integral part to a good story, and it is an excellent way to progress your plot and characters.

Below is a guide to review your formatting styles.

FORMATTING DIALOGUE

Denote spoken words with quotation marks: “Let’s go to the movies.”

Dialogue tags go on the outside: “I’m excited for fall break,” said Abby.

When you have a new speaker, start a new paragraph: “Any plans?” Abby asked. Maria replied, “I’m going hiking.”

Keep action sentences outside: Maria nodded. “I’m going hiking.”

Use single quotations when quoting within dialogue: Rachel rolled her eyes. “And then he said, ‘We were on a break.’ Can you believe him?”

Use lowercase for dialogue with action in the middle: “If we don’t leave now,” Marcus yelled, “we’ll be late.”

Add Em dashes for interruptions: “We need to leave before—” A crash downstairs had the sisters skittering for the fire escape.

Punctuation after an ellipsis is unnecessary: “So, I guess we’re over…” he said, voice trailing off.

For multi-paragraph dialogue, do not end the quote at the end of the first paragraph. Add quotations at the start and end of the final paragraph: Marisol wiped her brow and said, “After we finish pulling weeds and trimming the box hedges, we should start planting. I want hydrangeas lining the fence and hostas flanking the stairs. We’ll need to lay straw at some point. “It’s going to be a long day, but I think we can get it all done.”

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Novel Dialogue ⚜ Effective Dialogue Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ Not Good Dialogue ⚜ Dialogue Tips

[aventurineswife]

anon who requested the IPC worker x Aventurine where reader faked their death :D

a part 2 would be cool, how you go abt it id up 2 u but if u would like any ideas…it could maybe have a flashback of their fakeout death and Aven’s reaction, and then flash to the present where he tries to leave IPC to live domestically w Reader, but they get killed for real in the process (i’m angst #1s lover) and now Aven is stuck in the IPC 😭

“At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home” | Part 2

Summary: Memories of your past with Aventurine resurface, unraveling the intense moments that led to your faked death. A flashback reveals the night you made the harrowing decision to disappear, showing how it shattered Aventurine’s world. Torn between loyalty to IPC and his love for you, Aventurine is ultimately willing to risk everything for a future together. However, when he attempts to leave the IPC, tragedy strikes, claiming your life in reality this time. Now, Aventurine must face an eternity of regret and entrapment within the very organization you both sought to escape. Bound to the IPC, haunted by memories of you, he is left yearning for a life he can never have.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, fake death reveal, intense emotions, love and loss, tragedy, betrayal, hurt/comfort, forbidden love, character death, emotional breakdown, regret, forced separation, internal conflict, bittersweet romance.

Warnings: Intense emotional themes, character death, grief, betrayal, mentions of violence, flashbacks, guilt and regret, dark themes, potential tearjerker, unresolved trauma.

A/N: AHHHH!!! 😭 THAT'S SO MEAN BUT SO GOOD TOO?! MY BABY!!! 🥺💔

(Part 1)

The memory clung to Aventurine like a shadow—one he could never shake. He could still recall every detail from that day years ago, the day he’d thought he’d lost you forever. In his mind, it was as if he were back there now, reliving the dreadful series of events that tore you from his life.

It had started with an anonymous tip. He’d been in the heart of IPC headquarters, surrounded by the opulent furnishings and hushed power plays that were his world, when he received the message. The vague words scrawled across the screen still felt burned into his mind: An unexpected death in IPC’s ranks. Don’t ask too many questions.

At first, he’d dismissed it as some cruel joke or an attempt to provoke him. But as whispers circulated, he’d felt an ache that reached far deeper than any professional ambition or loyalty to the IPC. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His fingers shook when he finally demanded details from an IPC informant. They had tried to placate him with silence, then with excuses, before finally leading him to a private room where they produced a list of names lost in action. His eyes landed on yours.

His heart had shattered. And in that moment, the world he’d so carefully built around him crumbled. The IPC, his title, every ounce of the strategic power he wielded felt like a joke, a hollow nothing in the face of your loss. Days bled into weeks, then months as he clawed through records, files, and whispers, desperate to uncover anything that could prove this had been a mistake. Eventually, after countless sleepless nights and fading hope, he resigned himself to a cruel reality: you were gone.

In the present, Aventurine had all but lost himself in your kiss, his hands cradling your face as if afraid you might disappear again. But now that he’d found you, he couldn’t imagine letting you slip away. You’d barely finished promising him you weren’t going anywhere when he whispered urgently, “Come with me. I'll leave the IPC. We can start over, together.”

The idea hung in the air, and the look on your face said you wanted it as much as he did. The life you’d built in hiding had given you some solace, but nothing compared to the warmth that had returned the moment you’d locked eyes with him again.

“I want to, Aventurine,” you murmured, your voice soft with hope but tinged with caution. “But you know, you leaving IPC isn’t going to be that simple.”

He gave a wry smile, the familiar gleam of his gambler’s spirit returning to his gaze. “Since when have I ever played it safe?”

It was settled. Together, you and Aventurine began planning a final escape from IPC, the promise of a quiet, shared life filling every unspoken moment between you.

Weeks later, the two of you were ready. Aventurine had secured falsified documents, disguises, and even an old shuttle that he’d salvaged and reprogrammed to slip through IPC scanners. His heart thrummed with excitement as he held your hand, the two of you ducking into back alleys and secret passages within IPC’s labyrinthine halls, moving closer to the shuttle bay with each step.

But just as freedom felt within reach, a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Aventurine,” called a smooth, calculating voice—a voice he knew well, belonging to his superior within IPC, one of the few who could see through his every bluff. “Going somewhere?”

A team of armed operatives closed in, blocking your escape route, and Aventurine felt his stomach sink as he saw the trap closing around you both.

“What’s this?” he asked smoothly, masking his fear with a cocky grin as he positioned himself protectively in front of you. “A farewell party?”

His superior raised a brow, her gaze shifting to you before returning to him. “Leaving isn’t an option for a Stoneheart. Surely you know that.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting your eyes, silently urging you to stay close, to trust him just one last time. “Then let me make it clear,” he replied, stepping forward, his voice steady. “I’m done with IPC. And if you want me, you’ll have to get through us both.”

In the ensuing chaos, you and Aventurine fought with everything you had, desperate for one last chance at freedom. But just as you were about to reach the shuttle, a shot rang out.

You stumbled, a look of shock crossing your face as blood bloomed from your side. Aventurine’s heart seized. “No,” he whispered, catching you as you collapsed into his arms. “No, no, please… we were almost there.”

Your eyes met his, filled with a quiet acceptance he couldn’t bear. “It’s okay, Aventurine,” you murmured, your hand weakly reaching to touch his face. “I’m just sorry… I couldn’t give you the life we dreamed of.”

Tears he’d fought so long to hide spilled over as he held you, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, no, please don’t… I can’t do this without you.” But even as he clung to you, your grip grew weaker, your breaths fainter.

When your hand slipped from his cheek, Aventurine was left cradling your lifeless form, his vision blurring as grief consumed him. He’d lost you once before, but nothing had prepared him for the agony of losing you again—for real this time.

In the end, IPC dragged him back, broken and hollow, the final remnant of his old life slipping through his fingers. He returned to the office and his title as a Stoneheart, each day haunted by the love he’d sacrificed to leave the IPC, each night dreaming of a life he’d never know.

And so Aventurine remained, a prisoner of the world he’d once called his own, but now bound by grief—a gambler who’d lost his most precious wager.

[6esiree]

𝟐.𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

(𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞! 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭)

Hey, y’all! So, I just wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you in a crazy little way for the amount of love and support you’ve shown me—and continue to show me—since April. If it weren’t for you guys, I probably would have gone insane a while ago. Seriously, y’all keep me happy with your lovely comments and creative tags you add to your reblogs 😭🫶

Anywho, this giveaway I had in mind is more of a contest because I have less time to write and whatnot. Plus, I’m sure some of y’all would just *love* to return the favor by writing a story for me! (I’m joking, LOL) I regret to inform y’all that there’s only one winner in this situation, but the prize is fantastic, especially for my fellow Alastor simps. I’m giving away a 8 x 10 streamily Alastor poster signed by Amir Talai himself, and it comes with a certificate of authentication, too!

So, if you’re interested, all you have to do is:

⊹ Follow me. I am celebrating my followers, after all!

⊹ Upload an original character x reader story to tumblr that’s at least 2.5k words long and tag me so I can see it. You’re free to surpass this amount! Oh, and if I find out it’s AI written you’re immediately disqualified from the contest.

⊹ I was going to say that it can be about any of the character’s I’ve expressed interest in on my blog, which includes Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, and Adam, but honestly, I recommend you write for Alastor, Human Alastor, or Vox. I love them to bits :P

⊹ It can be fluff, smut, or angst—I do not mind. I’m not really picky about what I read, but if anybody would like to know, I’m a freak who loves tropes and x Gen Z reader stuff.

⊹ I ask of you to not write anything too graphic, though, like gore, vomit, or scat. (If I think of anything else, I’ll add it to this list)

Important: If you have any questions or want to make sure if what you had in mind is okay with me, you’re more than welcome to ask! Also, you have approximately 2 weeks to write your fic. I have a lot on my plate and I’m sure lots of y’all do as well, so I don’t want anyone who decides to join to rush themselves!

The Deadline to upload your fic is 11/21/24!

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XIV

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Aemond wallows in his grief over Valaena.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Grief, Desperation, Heartbreak, Talks of Euthanasia, Attempt at Euthanasia.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4465

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

The days had blurred into an endless stream of anxious hours. Aemond stared wordlessly out the window, his gaze vacant, face drawn and pale.

It had been over two weeks since Valaena had slipped into unconsciousness, and each day she remained silent, Aemond felt himself slipping further into despair.

Gerardys attended to Valaena daily, meticulously ensuring she received nourishment and care, his expression tightening each time Aemond asked if there was any sign of improvement.

Lirri and Arro had taken to caring for the children, who missed their mother terribly, not fully understanding what was going on.

Aemond himself had hardly eaten or slept. His usually pristine silver hair hung tangled, his appearance dishevelled. He spent nearly every hour by Valaena’s side, laying beside her, listening to the soft, rhythmic beat of her heart.

Sometimes, he would clutch her hand and sob, his pleas spilling out in quiet desperation, “Please-please, my love, come back to me. I can’t live without you.”

Family and friends came often, each one sharing their love, speaking as though their words alone could bring her back.

Rhaenyra would sit by her daughter’s side, clutching her hand, and Daemon would stand nearby, his hand occasionally brushing over Valaena’s dark hair.

Jace and Luke shared stories, speaking of their own daughters and laughing softly, trying to bring warmth into the room.

Alicent held Aemond often, her own tears mingling with his as she begged him to eat, to rest, to care for himself.

But nothing anyone did or said could reach him.

Even his new, unnamed son, waiting to be held by his father, had yet to meet him.

Aemond refused to see him, insisting that he would wait until Valaena could be there too.

One afternoon, as Gerardys was finishing his usual checks, Aemond whispered, “Is there any change?”

Gerardys let out a weary sigh and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my prince.”

Aemond’s heart dropped, his gaze fixed on Valaena’s still face. He hardly noticed when Gerardys left the room.

There was a knock on the door, and Aegon stepped in, his expression shifting as he saw his brother’s grief-stricken face.

“What did he say?” Aegon asked quietly, already dreading the answer.

Aemond’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’s no improvement. S-She still won’t wake.” His voice broke, and he turned away, clutching the edge of the bed as though it could anchor him. “What if she never does?” he gasped, his face crumpling. “I-I can’t lose her, Aegon. I just can’t.”

Aegon crossed the room, wrapping his arm around Aemond’s shoulders. “Hey-it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “Let it out.”

Aemond resisted, but only for a moment before he collapsed against Aegon, his body racked with sobs.

“W-What if she doesn’t wake up. I can’t lose her” he choked, the raw fear and sorrow cutting through every word.

“You won’t lose her,” Aegon murmured, his voice steady even as his own heart twisted painfully.

He had rarely seen Aemond cry, and never with such anguish.

Quietly, he brushed his fingers through Aemond’s tangled hair, trying to comfort him as best he could.

“Is she not responding at all?” Aegon asked gently after a few moments.

“N-No,” Aemond replied, his voice hoarse “How am I supposed to live without her?”

Aegon took a deep breath and, with quiet certainty, said, “You won’t have to. Valaena will come back to you. She loves you too much to leave you—not after everything you two went through just to be together.”

“I-I just—”

“No,” Aegon interrupted, his voice firm. “You listen to me. Valaena loves you, and she will come back. She’s fighting her way back to you, I know it.”

Aemond took a shaky breath, nodding as he wiped his tears furiously. He glanced at Valaena, his heart aching with every beat.

“I hope you’re right, Aegon,” he whispered. “I really, really do.”

Days passed, and Aemond felt hope slipping through his fingers. Each morning, as he opened his eye beside Valaena’s still form, the weight of despair grew heavier.

His sister, Helaena, would visit frequently, talking in her quiet, lilting voice about crickets and how they would all sing together again.

Although he didn’t understand her words fully, he found comfort in them—a flicker of brightness in the midst of his grief.

Rhaegar and Elaena would bring small bouquets of flowers, placing them tenderly by their mother’s side.

Daenys, too young to understand, would pat her mother’s arm, murmuring, “Mama, mama,” in her small, confused voice.

Each of her innocent touches and soft calls felt like a dagger to Aemond’s heart.

He tried to stay strong for them, though with each passing day, it felt like his own strength was crumbling.

However, on one of Gerardys' routine visits, the tension reached breaking point.

Gerardys moved from one side of the bed to the other, checking Valaena’s pulse and her pallor.

His sigh was heavy, and his eyes held none of the hope Aemond longed to see.

“It has been over four weeks,” Gerardys said gravely. “And still, there is no sign of improvement.”

Aemond’s hands gripped Rhaenyra’s tightly, his heart pounding painfully. When he glanced at his good mother, he saw her own pain mirrored in her eyes.

“Is there truly nothing more you can do?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice strained with desperation.

“I am afraid not, Your Grace,” Gerardys replied, shaking his head. “I have tried everything within my knowledge and means. The princess simply does not respond.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and his voice came out rough, nearly a whisper. “If she doesn’t wake up what will happen to her?”

Gerardys hesitated, his expression a mix of compassion and sorrow. “If she remains in this state, it is likely her body will eventually begin to weaken, and she may pass away-but there are also ways to help her pass-to end her suffering”

Aemond's brow furrowed. “What do you mean, help her pass?”

Gerardys looked between Aemond and Rhaenyra who nodded before speaking. “The Queen and I, along with her council have discussed the possibility of administering a high dose of sweet sleep to the Princess. It would allow her to pass peacefully.”

For a moment, Aemond was too stunned to respond, his mind reeling. “You-you want to kill her?”

“Please, my prince,” Gerardys said, raising a placating hand. “Allow me to explain—”

“Get out” Aemond’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper, but his expression blazed with fury.

Rhaenyra reached for him, pleading softly, “Aemond, please. Try to understand that—”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”  His shout rang through the room, raw and filled with rage and pain.

Without another word, Gerardys bowed his head and quickly left the room, and Rhaenyra followed after him, her shoulders slumped.

As soon as they were gone, Aemond rushed to the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind them.

He turned back to Valaena, his chest heaving. Sitting by her side, he took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips.

“I won’t let them- I won’t let them take you from me-” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Aemond clutched her hand, drawing it to his heart. He sat like that for hours, unmoving, praying that somewhere deep within, she could hear him.

Aemond barred the door to the room, turning away every visitor, every knock, every entreaty to let someone in. He didn’t want anyone near Valaena, didn’t want anyone near them.

He was done with their attempts to comfort him or, worse, convince him to let her go.

As he sat slumped against the wall, Gerardys’ words replayed over and over in his mind: that she may never awaken, that her body would weaken until eventually, she would pass.

The suggestion of sweet sleep to ease her passing had ignited anger so fierce it had consumed him, but now, in the stillness, that anger simmered into something else entirely—.

The ache in his chest was so raw, so all-consuming, that he felt as if he were being hollowed out from the inside, his heart twisted into a mass of pain he could barely breathe around.

The thought of her slipping further and further away, of her body growing frailer with each day, was like a knife twisting in his heart.

He didn’t want her to waste away; he didn’t want her to be in pain.

Slowly, he got to his feet and approached the bed, his gaze fixed on Valaena’s face.

She was so beautiful—ethereal, almost as if she were caught between this world and another.

Her skin was pale, but her features were softened, the gentle rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life, and with every second, he feared it would be the last.

Even in this slumber, she was radiant, a vision of the fierce and tender woman he loved more than life itself.

It was almost cruel, the way her beauty remained undisturbed, untouched by the weight of what they were enduring.

He couldn’t look away; he was terrified that if he did, he’d forget this moment, the way she looked, lost in a place he could not reach.

In his mind, she was still full of life, laughing, fierce and strong. He closed his eye, recalling her strength, the fire in her gaze that had captivated him from the beginning.

Wanting to remember her as she was.

Aemond picked up a pillow, clutching it in his shaking hands. He remembered what she had said to him in their cabin.

‘Just promise me one thing. If I am to die, I would rather it be by your hand’

She’d made him promise. The thought of letting her linger in this half-life, slipping further from him, made him feel like he was failing her.

Taking a shaky breath, he lifted the pillow, his vision blurring as he held it above her face.

Every fibre in his being screamed at him to let her go, to do the one thing he could do to free her from this endless silence.

But standing here, the pillow shaking in his hands, he couldn’t bear it.

Looking down at her face, so still and beautiful, he saw the traces of her smile, the faint lines around her eyes from all their laughter, all the quiet moments they’d shared.

Memories surged forward—Valaena laughing, Valaena fierce and defiant, Valaena holding their children.

His hand dropped slightly, then his grip loosened, and the pillow slipped from his fingers onto the floor.

He stumbled back, horrified at what he had almost done. He pressed a hand to his mouth, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

“I-I can’t do it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. His chest felt as though it would shatter from the weight of it all. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry-”

Weakly, he lowered himself to his knees by the bed, clutching the sheets as he buried his face in them.

“Please come back to me,” he whispered, his voice raw with desperation. “Please, I can’t do this without you. I don’t know exist without you.”

After a long, silent moment, he pulled himself up, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lips before he laid down on the bed, drawing her close.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, feeling the faint warmth of her skin.

 “Sleep as long as you need to, love. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll take care of you.”

With his arms wrapped around her, he rested his head beside hers, feeling the faint warmth of her skin against his own.

As he drifted off to sleep, he let himself hope—fragile, desperate hope—that somewhere, somehow, she could hear him.

Aemond was soaring through a vast, endless sky, the blue stretching out forever above him, beneath him, and all around.

Vhagar’s mighty wings carried him effortlessly as he glanced over to see Valaena riding alongside him, Silverwing gliding through the air.

Her dragon’s silver scales gleamed in the sunlight, and Valaena herself was laughing—a bright, carefree sound that echoed around them.

Aemond felt joy fill him as he watched her lean forward, urging Silverwing into a dive. She tucked her wings close to her body and plunged toward the glittering sea below, the wind rushing past in a blur of motion.

At the last moment, Silverwing pulled up, wings slicing across the ocean’s surface so close that sprays of water fanned out behind her, shimmering in the sunlight.

Aemond laughed, his voice echoing with pride and exhilaration, as he shouted, “Show-off!”

Valaena threw her head back in laughter, her dark hair streaming in the wind, her voice bright and filled with a joy he hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.

But suddenly, a flash of blinding light tore across the sky, so fierce that he instinctively shielded his face.

Blinking, he looked around in panic. “Valaena!” he shouted, desperation cracking his voice. “Don’t go towards it—stay by my side!”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a strange, echoing silence.

Then, her voice drifted through the air, soft but clear. “Is not my time,” she said, her words rippling through the air like a gentle breeze.

“No, not yet. Come with me,” he pleaded, his heart hammering in his chest.

Valaena hesitated, glancing toward the bright light in the distance.

But then she turned Silverwing, guiding her away from the beckoning glow.

She followed him, and together, they flew back toward King’s Landing, circling the Red Keep in unison before landing in a green, sunlit meadow just outside the walls.

Aemond descended from Vhagar’s saddle, climbing down the sturdy rope ladder.

He barely had time to turn before Valaena was there, sliding gracefully down Silverwing’s wing and landing with a soft thud on the grass.

Aemond felt his breath catch as he closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth against him, tangible and solid.

He whispered against her ear, “I love you-”

Before she could reply, footsteps sounded in the distance. Aemond turned to see Helaena approaching, her eyes soft and distant, a serene smile playing across her lips. She tilted her head, meeting his gaze.

“The crickets will sing together again,” she said quietly, her voice lilting with a familiar, otherworldly calm.

Aemond furrowed his brow, confusion knitting his expression. “Helaena, what—?”

But before he could finish, she turned and walked away, humming softly to herself, her voice fading into the distance.

Aemond glanced back at Valaena, who simply shrugged and took his hand. She looked at him, her gaze warm and full of affection.

“Let’s go home,” she murmured, her voice soft and comforting, her words echoing around him as the world began to fade.

Aemond’s eye fluttered open, the remnants of the dream lingering as a dull ache in his chest.

For a brief, beautiful moment, he half-expected to see Valaena there beside him, her smile bright, her eyes filled with that warm, knowing light.

But as he blinked, the cold darkness of the room settled around him, and the fog of sleep cleared, allowing the painful truth to seep in.

It had only been a dream.

Reality crashed over him like a tidal wave, and he clenched his fists, feeling an unbearable weight in his chest.

The vividness of the dream—the warmth of her laughter, the thrill of flying together, the strength of her arms around him—had felt so real, so heartbreakingly close.

But now, she lay beside him unmoving, locked in a silent slumber.

Aemond let out a shuddering breath as he realized how foolish it had been, to believe even for a second that she might have woken, that she might be well again.

A faint spark of hope that had flickered in his chest during the dream faded, replaced by a hollow, gnawing grief.

He turned toward her, studying her face—the face that had smiled at him moments ago, so vibrant and alive.

But now, her expression was empty, serene but lifeless, her shallow breaths offering a miniscule amount of comfort.

He reached out, his hand hovering over hers, hesitant, as if to touch her would shatter the fragile illusion he’d clung to in the haze of sleep.

His fingers brushed over her cold skin, and he felt an ache so deep it threatened to unravel him.

Aemond drifted into another restless sleep, but a faint sensation roused him—a delicate brush of movement against his hand.

At first, he thought he was still dreaming, that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But the gentle twitch continued, soft and real, grounding him back in the present.

His eye flew open, heart pounding, and he looked in disbelief as Valaena’s fingers moved, curling ever so slightly against his.

He sat up with a jolt, staring at her face.

Her eyelids fluttered, and then they slowly opened.

 With a quiet gasp, he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her soft skin. "I knew you'd come back to me," he whispered, voice breaking with relief and disbelief.

Tears spilled from his eye as he leaned down, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, his arms wrapping around her protectively. "Thank the gods-”

Aemond felt her hand, still weak, but unmistakably real, move to rest on his head. Her fingers stroked gently through his unkempt hair, a familiar, tender gesture.

A shiver ran through him as he held her closer, feeling the weight of his anguish begin to lift, replaced by an overwhelming wave of gratitude and love.

For a long moment, he stayed there, sobbing quietly, pouring weeks of heartache and fear into her presence.

Valaena’s touch anchored him, assuring him of her return.

When he finally looked up, her gaze met his, tired but warm, filled with a quiet strength. His heart clenched as he took her face in his hands, memorizing every detail.

"I was so afraid," he murmured, voice trembling. "Afraid I'd lost you forever."

She managed a faint smile, her eyes filled with the same love that had carried them through every trial before this.

 "I’m here," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely more than a breath. "I’m here, my love."

Aemond kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, and finally her lips, a desperate and reverent touch, as though it might bind her to him forever.

And for the first time in weeks, he felt peace.

“Our son?” Valaena’s voice was soft, hoarse from the long silence she’d endured during her coma, but it was full of that familiar warmth Aemond had missed so much.

Aemond’s smile faltered, and he looked down at her. His heart ached to see the longing in her eyes, but he kept his voice steady as he responded, “I haven’t seen him, not yet.”

Valaena frowned slightly. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but her gaze searching his face for an answer.

“I-I wanted us to see him together,” Aemond said, his throat tightening at the memory of the promise he’d made to her, the one he had struggled to hold on to in the weeks since her coma.

Valaena’s lips curved into a gentle smile, a glimmer of her usual warmth returning. “Can we see him now?” she asked, her eyes softening.

Aemond nodded and stood up, walking toward the door. His heart swelled as he imagined the moment when Valaena would finally get to hold their child. He unlocked the door and called for Lirri.

A few moments later, Lirri appeared, her expression concerned as she saw Aemond’s face. “What’s wrong, my prince?” she asked quietly.

“Could you bring me the babe?” Aemond asked, his voice low.

Lirri nodded and, without hesitation, disappeared into her chambers. A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a small, swaddled bundle in her arms.

She gently placed the baby into Aemond’s arms, and he held the tiny form, feeling the weight of it settle against his chest.

“Thank you, Lirri,” Aemond said, his voice filled with gratitude. He shut the door behind her and returned to Valaena’s side.

With a tender smile, he carefully placed their son on her chest. Valaena’s breath hitched, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed down at the small bundle, her fingers trembling as she lightly traced the baby’s tiny features.

“He looks just like you,” she whispered, her voice full of awe as she stared at the baby.

Aemond couldn’t help but smile as he looked at their son, his heart filled with a profound love that he could barely put into words.

He stroked his son’s cheek gently, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I waited this long to meet you properly,” he murmured, regret lacing his words.

Valaena reached out, her hand taking his in a gentle, soothing gesture. She kissed his palm softly, and Aemond’s eye closed briefly at the touch.

When she pulled away, her gaze returned to their son, her expression tender.

“Does he have a name?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost like a prayer.

Aemond’s eyes met hers, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared decision. “No,” he replied softly. “I wanted to wait for you.”

Valaena’s lips curled into a small, affectionate smile. “I’d like to name him Aemon, in honour of his father,” she said, her eyes sparkling with love.

Aemond chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked, teasing, though his heart swelled with affection.

Valaena nodded with certainty, her eyes warm with emotion. “I’m sure.”

Aemond stroked the baby’s soft silver hair, a tear threatening to fall as he marvelled at the life they had created together.

“Aemon,” he whispered, the name tasting like hope and promise. “He may look like me but he’ll grow up to be strong. Just like you.”

“Now’s not the time for Strong jokes my love” said Valaena,

“Time and a place. I know” replied Aemond smiling slightly.

Valaena shifted slightly, her eyes filled with concern as she looked up at Aemond. “You look so tired,” she said, her voice gentle.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Aemond admitted, his gaze dropping to their son. “Not since you’ve been in the coma.”

Valaena’s brow furrowed, and she gave a soft gasp. “How long was it?” she asked.

“Just over a month,” Aemond said, his voice tight as the pain of that time resurfaced.

Valaena’s eyes widened. “A-A month. What about our other children?”

Aemond placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “They’ve been well taken care of,” he said gently. “They visit often. The flowers over there are from Rhaegar and Elaena.”

Valaena nodded slowly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She looked at the flowers with longing. “I want to see them,” she said, her voice breaking.

Aemond smiled softly. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring them to you,” he promised.

Valaena shifted again, the weight of the baby becoming too much for her.

Aemond gently scooped Aemon up, cradling him in his arms and rocking him softly as he looked at Valaena with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, his voice laced with worry.

Valaena’s gaze was sad as she watched Aemond care for their son. “I can’t even hold my son properly,” she murmured, the pain of her weakness clear in her eyes.

“You’ve just woken up from a month-long coma,” Aemond reminded her softly. “It’s going to take time to build your strength back.”

Valaena nodded, a sad smile flickering on her lips. “When will you tell my mother I’m awake?”

Aemond sighed, a small chuckle escaping him. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to keep you to myself for a little longer.”

The soft cry of their son brought Aemond’s attention back to the baby. He carefully opened the door noticing Lirri waiting outside in the hallway.

“Lirri,” Aemond said quietly, “He’s hungry. The wetnurse will need to be summoned.” As he placed his son gently into her arms

“Is my lady well?” asked Lirri.

“She’s awake”

Lirri smiled widely. “Does the prince have a name?” she asked softly.

“Aemon,” Aemond replied, a proud smile on his face.

Lirri smiled warmly “A good name-it suits him well”

“Don’t tell anyone that Valaena is awake,” he said softly. “I need a bit more time with her.”

Lirri gave a small nod. “I understand, my prince,” she said before slipping back into her chambers.

Aemond returned to the bed and sat beside Valaena, his heart light for the first time in so long.

He laid down next to her, his hand gently brushing her face. She was so tired, but there was a quiet contentment in her eyes as she watched him.

“I’ve been asleep for a month,” Valaena murmured, her voice faint, “yet I feel so tired.”

Aemond smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s okay, my love. Sleep. Rest.”

Valaena’s eyes fluttered closed, and she whispered softly, “I love you.”

Aemond kissed her forehead gently. “I love you too,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

Just as the gentle rhythm of her breathing steadied.

"I dreamt we were flying," Valaena murmured, her words barely a whisper.

Aemond froze, his chest tightening at the sound. He looked down at her, her eyes closed, her face soft and peaceful as she rested.

The vulnerability of the moment struck him, but there was something else in her words, something that tugged at his heart.

"Flying?" Aemond whispered.

Valaena stirred slightly, the corners of her lips lifting as though recalling the fleeting images of her dream.

“Yes, with you,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with the weight of sleep. "You on Vhagar, me on Silverwing-The sky so blue and endless. There was a light, you wouldn’t let me go-and the crickets they sing together again"

Aemond’s heart caught in his throat. The images she spoke of mirrored his own dream so closely, it almost felt as if they had shared the same vision.

For a moment, he dared to believe that her mind was reaching out to him, somehow connecting in a space beyond reality.

Her hand twitched slightly in her sleep, and he gently took it in his, his grip tight, as if holding on to a memory, a hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she could hear him, could feel him there.

And as the weight of their shared grief, their joy, and their love settled over them, Aemond finally allowed himself to close his eyes, drifting off to sleep with Valaena nestled safely in his arms.

TBC

[bellaireland1981]

Hallmark Holiday RomCom Writer's Challenge!

Details:

To celebrate my Birthday month AND all 1.1K of my amazing followers as well as to make this holiday season more fun, I asked what you all wanted and you voted for another Hallmark Holiday RomCom Writer’s Challenge! The cheesier and fluffier the better! Tooth rotting fluff! Let’s keep dentists everywhere in business this season! You can pick any TGM character to write for and pick a trope (bonus if you combine more than one in a story!), once you know who you’re writing for and what trope(s) you want, DM me and sign up! I’m not limiting anything! The more the merrier! 

Rules:

You can sign up for as many tropes as you’d like! 

18+ Only! Minors DNI

You can submit for a series, one shots, mood boards, drabbles, etc… The point is to HAVE FUN!

Must be appropriately labeled (Smut, Angst, warnings, Fluff….etc)

HAS to include a  HOLIDAY! RomCom genre and include the TROPE  you sign up for! Go crazy! 

General:

Your creations are due by January 1, 2025! Tag me @bellaireland1981 and #HallmarkHolidayRomComChallenge in your work so that I add your link to the Challenge Page! 

Tropes:

Meet Cute

Enemies to Lovers

Forced Proximity

Destiny/Soulmate

Childhood Sweethearts

Forbidden Love

Second Chance Love

Impossible Love

I have a Secret

The Bet

Fake Relationship

Love Triangle

Opposites Attract

Amnesia/Mistaken Identity 

Instalove

Just Friends/friends to lovers

Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded

Rags to Riches

Marriage Pact

Best Friend’s Brother/Sister

Country Inn

Home for the Holidays 

Bachelor Auction (charity?)

Boy/Girl next door

Nanny 

Blind date/ Dating App/ Friends setup

Let's Celebrate!!!

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

This will be my one and only post about this subject: why do I say that Charlie Vickers trolls the fandom, from time to time?

Because not only he’s a great actor (and if he doesn’t get any award nominations for Season 2 is a massive crime; his performance was outstanding), but he also studied everything about Sauron in order to play him in “Rings of Power”. I’m talking books, notes, letters, everything he could get his hands on. He knows this character extremely well and this is obvious in his performance (which is very in line with what Tolkien himself wrote), but also with many things he says in his interviews (I’m thinking about the one time he said there is debate if Gollum can actually be considered a hobbit or not; this alone tells me Charlie knows his Tolkien, and he’s up to date with Tolkien scholars thesis).

I don’t know the logistics of Amazon deal with Tolkien estate, because it appears very one-sided, with Tolkien estate controlling what Amazon can get their hands on to produce and write the show, but maybe the actors can access material from there too? I don’t know, I’m spitballing in here.

Not even the anti “Rings of Power” crowd can deny Charlie’s talent and how he’s the perfect cast for Sauron, because he’s absolutely nailing the role. His performance is insanely good, and I can’t praise him enough for his work. Awards be rigged if he doesn’t get the recognition he deserves. This was truly his season (alongside Charles Edwards, Sam Hazeldine and Robert Aramayo; to me these were the top and strongest performances this season).

Anyway, from Charlie’s interviews is also clear he has a very dark and sarcastic sense of humor (which I love, by the way), with joking about killing other characters and the human sacrifices in Númenor, among others things. Hence my use of the word “trolling”.

In one recent interview, Charlie said he doesn’t know how the next seasons will actually go, story-wise. He talks about having a “map” on his mind due to his readings, and he’s being honest, because “Rings of Power”, indeed, diverges from what’s considered by many as “Tolkien canon” (I won’t get into canon vs. legendarium debate here).

I don’t know how these interviews are suppose to work; if the actors have guidelines in what they can and cannot say; or if it’s totally up to them. Either way, Charlie can’t go around and “spill the beans” and spoiling the story (especially the bits that aren’t in what Tolkien wrote). This should be obvious, but apparently it isn’t. And every time I write something about Charlie “trolling” endless posts “coincidentally” appear in the Haladriel tag on how we must be nice to Charlie.

And I’ll say this, and I don’t even care about sounding offensive here or not; this infantilization of a married man in his 30s, is bizarre. Charlie is a few months younger than me. He’s not a child actor nor a teenager who needs to be “protected” or “sheltered” from certain interviewers’ questions (as I’ve seen getting thrown around) nor from the fans’ opinions of him (especially when these aren’t negative). You should take that crusade to the actual anti-RoP and dudebros crowd. They are the ones who don’t want the show to succeed, and want it cancelled.

[impala-dreamer]

Yes, it’s that time again. As an oversized turkey thaws in your fridge and Mariah Carey starts doing her vocal warm ups, it’s time to think about gifting something special to those you love.

Why not give the fanfic lover in your life a custom written fanfiction designed and starring Them?!

Imagine the joy on your bestie’s face as they read about riding in the Impala with Dean and singing along to their favorite song! The magical feeling they’ll get when Bucky rescues them and his prickly exterior softens at their touch… Or hell- get one for yourself and read the story you’ve always dreamed about but couldn’t find ;)

So many possibilities and stories to tell!

Read on for more info and please, reblog to spread the word. 💖

How does it work?

You send me a message and we discuss what type of story you’d like. If I think I can do it properly for you- it’s a go!

You provide details about the character (you, someone else, multiples). Stories can be OFC, Actual People, or Reader Insert.

You leave me alone for a few days and when I return, you’ll get a PDF file of your fic (including custom art) emailed right to you ready for gifting! (gift wrap not included)

What fandoms are you writing for lately?

Any fandom can be negotiated provided I am familiar with it and feel like I would do the details justice. Ex: I’ve watched football, but I’m not gonna write a great football story bc I just don’t get it. ;)

Fandoms I am currently comfy with:

Supernatural, Supernatural RPF (Mostly all ships!)

The Boys, The Boys RPF

The Walking Dead, TWD RPF

Marvel (Cap, Bucky, Thor, Wanda, Sam), Marvel RPF (Evans & Stan)

Criminal Minds

The Hunger Games

The Magicians (Ships too!)

Random RPF Actors/Singers

What Kind of Story Can You Do?

Anything. No, wait. I’m afraid you don’t believe me. I mean… ANY T H I N G. You want hardcore smut that borders on problematic? I’m in. You want the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed and would make Hallmark movies cringe? I got you. Angst? Dark stuff? General? Literally Anything you want. I only have one or two things I’m not comfortable with but that can all be discussed in private, and honestly, after almost 10 years doing this, no one’s ever come close to asking for them so you’re 1000% good to ask for whatever.

What’s the bottom line here?

Well, your story, which will be anywhere from 1,000 - 20,000 words depending on how wordy I get, will be a flat rate of $25. This includes my full attention to your story from start to finish, accompanying art, specific detail inclusion, and an emailed PDF file that you can print out or delete, or whatever you want. It’s yours.

I do not write for word counts, only the story. If your complete story can be told in 1k words, that’s great. If it takes another 40,000 and we end up with a novel, that’s great for you and I won’t charge you any more for it! I’m more worried about giving you the best story I can than worrying about word counts.

Commissions are open now until Christmas Eve Eve (Dec 23, 2023).

I will only take FIVE commissions at any time, so best to get to me first. First come, first serve, then I go down the line.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I’m not scary.

You can also check out my Tumblr Masterlist for examples of my work incase you’re unsure. And… just a reminder, Patrons get a discount!

Much love and wishes for an awesome end of the year,

Beka <3

2024 Tags 

@feelmyroarrrr @caplanbuckybarnes @mariekoukie6661 @alwaystiredandconfused @zepskies

@k-slla @foxyjwls007 @shadyloveobject @cosicas-cuquis @luvr4miya

@deanwinchesterswitch @cevansdove-baby @somebrokeartstudent @peytongoose @illicithallways

Add Yourself To The List

[the-bar-sinister]

Seeing that other ask made me decide to actually ask this directly but like the other day /766229604596842496/ this got me wanting to write some fic; but I’m really new to all this and don’t know the social rules and expectations of if that’s okay or only okay in certain methods or what have you? Like I’d love to write and share it on ao3 as my first fic but I don’t want to step wrongly about how to do it if you don’t mind

Here are the important things when you're posting your first fic on AO3.

ONE: Make sure to select any of the four appropriate archive warnings for your fic.

These are:

"Author chose not to warn": This means "read at your own risk". Select this warning if you don't want to spoil your readers as to whether your fic has any content related to the other warnings in it.

"Graphic Violence": This means you want to warn readers that your fic has heavy or detailed descriptions of violence in it.

"Underage": This means that you want to warn readers that your fic contains descriptions of sex that involves characters who are underage.

"Major character death": This means that you want to warn readers that a major character in your story dies.

"No archive warnings apply: This means you want to let readers know that your fic does not contain major character death, underage sex, or graphic violence.

TWO: Give your fic a summary. It doesn't have to be long, sometimes the shorter the better! If you can't think of how to summarize your fic, you can just take a excerpt from the fic itself and put it there.

THREE: Tag the characters in your fic. Some people tag every character who appears in their fic no matter how minor, but this actually makes it more difficult for people to find fic about the characters they like. It's usually better only to tag the characters who are important in your fic.

FOUR: Tag the ships in your fic. Like with character tags its best to stick to only the major pairings that you're writing about, and not to list background ships. If you want to warn for background ships, its better to do that in an author's note.

FIVE: Additional tags. You don't have to go crazy here, fewer tags is often better. You want to tag the genre of your story (is it romance? adventure? fantasy? horror?) and tag a few tropes if there are major common tropes that pop up in your fic so people can find it by looking through those tags. People often also use additional tags to say what kind of ending the fic has, and what POV the fic is written from (first person, second person, third person.)

If your fic has a main character, consider adding the additional tag (character)-centric, or POV (character) as well to help people who are interested in that character find your work!

And that's all you really need to know!

Other than that, there are no rules to writing fic, and no hidden "social norms" of AO3.

There's no algorithm to game to get better stats, so just write your fic, tag it, and post it!

Then you can share it on tumblr!

If there were more specific questions that you had, or if I missed the nuance of or misunderstood your question, please, please feel free to send me a follow up message, but I hope I could help!

[allofmytoxicity]

Hi, I’m currently writing my first ever Neal Caffrey and was wondering if you’d like to be tagged into any of my stories. I understand if that’s something you don’t want to. Have you got any tips writing for him? :)

Oh my gosh! Yeah! Okay, so, tips for writing Neal (at least from what I have)

- Always, when Neal is talking refer to Mozzie as Moz.

- The only time, and this is in the show as well, when Neal refers to Mozzie as Mozzie instead of Moz is in a dead serious conversation with Mozzie.

- I give Neal that weird mix of Golden retriever and black cat energy.

- But if I'm writing Peter (and it is a possibility, my drafts are a thing of great mystery) I'll give him a weird mix of Golden retriever and bull dog.

- For any other detailing I use @/theschoolofplot on insta for different things. They mainly have fantasy writing tips, but in all of that, have lots of general writing tips as well

- Oh, and for crimes, I know it will look dead dodgy, but make your search history look like you are about to go and commit a crime. Every crime. Don't care what it is. From cons to murder, let the FBI suspect EVERYTHING about you.

- I don't live anywhere near New York or the US as a whole, I'm in the UK, so I do quite commonly sit and look at a map. It isn't the best, but it does come in handy for looking at how long streets normally are in the area I'm trying to describe, even if I'm using the wrong names.

- Back on the point of writing Neal as a character, I'll normally rewatch a couple White Collar episodes as I'm writing a piece just to make sure the levels of sass are up to scratch.

I think that's kind of it from what I can think of, at least for now, but if you need anymore tips, feel free to send in another ask.

[amalythea]

moonstruck ; birthday event !

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As a way to celebrate me being old and a way for me to get back into writing I decided to host an event! I wrote these prompts like a year ago back on @soleillunne with the help of @starrveill (i love you)

This is a request based event, if you have an idea in mind send me an ask with a prompt, a genre (optional) and a character of your choice.

You can send in as many asks as you want, but only one prompt and character per ask is allowed. So you can ask the same prompt for different characters with multiple asks.

I will delete any request that's against my rules and just make me uncomfortable in general. If you have any questions about the characters I write for please don't hesitate to ask.

I will tag this post and each post related to this one with "moonstruck!", and the event will get its own masterlist. I don't know when I will close the event, but I will announce when I do.

Below are the prompts, go crazy (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

1. “don't smile at me like that!”

2. “may i have this dance?” “well, if you insist.”

3. “stop moving, i'm almost done!”

4. “well, if i tell you it wouldn't be a secret.”

5. “the moon is beautiful, isn't it?”

6. “i wouldn't wanna fight you. you're pretty feisty.”

7. “your eyes are always on them.” “…are they? I haven’t noticed.”

8. “do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?”

9. “are you sure you're okay? your face seems a little red.”

10. “...on the bright side, we'll know how not to cook next time.”

11. “you're my favorite person.”

12. “close the curtains! my eyes are burning!” “don’t you think you’ve slept in long enough, you little vampire?”

13. “here.” ”what are you doing?” “giving you my jacket. cover yourself up, people are staring.” (bonus: “…are you sure you’re not the one staring?”)

14. “how… do you understand my feelings so well?” “…because i’d been in your place once”

15. “i love you. now say it back.” “please— stop talking, save it till we get you help—” “say it back—” “i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me—”

16. “dont miss me too much, okay?”

17. “tell me what i can do for you.” “stay.”

18. “wait! don't go... not yet.”

19. “i swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.”

20. “how do you make the pain go away?”

21. “you feel like home to me.”

22. “it's okay to cry, you know.”

23. “you're acting like my mom.” “shut up and let me take care of you.”

24. “i'm never leaving you. you're stuck with me.”

25. “in your darkest moments, I'll be your guiding light.”

30. “you're exhausted, honey.”

31. “can i have another blanket?” “do you really think that’s a good idea, love?”

32. “come over here; let me patch you up.”

33. “how do you do it?” “do what?” “make me feel alive.”

34. “i have no idea how i got through my days before i met you.”

35. “what do you feel when you're with me?” “when i'm with you... i feel at peace.”

36. “you lied to me. was i just a pawn in your game? the easiest one you can discard?”

37. “you make me feel so alone.”

38. “i don't know what to do without you.”

39. “make sure it kills me.”

40. “i love you, until the end of the world.”

41. “you had your chance.”

42. “wait for me, will you?”

43. “i don't want to go.”

44. “i'm sorry, have we met before?”

45. “it's okay, you can let go.”

46. “i can't help but wonder if you ever truly loved me.”

47. “given your history, i should have known better.”

48. “you made a promise.”

49. “in the end, I was just a stepping stone in your path to success, wasn't I?”

50. “i can't trust you anymore, not after what you did.”

51. “…please don’t come any closer.” “why not?” “i don’t want to hurt you.” “who said you would?”

52. “people always leave, so why should it be any different now?” “what if i told you that i never planned on leaving? not now, not ever?”

53. “the only thing that makes every ounce of pain worth enduring is you.”

54. “i love you too much to stay away, and I wouldn't wish for anything less than to spend an eternity by your side.”

55. “the day i lose you is the day that i lose everything.”

56. “please don't go... i love you.” “...i wish i could believe that.”

57. “i'm sorry. you deserve so much more than this, and i can't even give you that, no matter how much i want to.”

58. “do you know the difference between history and you?” “what?” “history is the past, but you’re my future.” “…oh my god.”

59. “now remember, you don’t need to apologize for things you aren’t responsible for, okay?” “okay! i’m sorry!” “…i literally just said not to apologize.” “sorry..” “damn it. we’re gonna have to work on that a bit more.”

60. “i’m sure the feeling won’t last, but let me hold onto you a little bit longer before i go.”

Bonus: send me a prompt/lyrics of your choice!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

moonstruck — unable to think or act normally, especially as a result of being in love.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[cricketchaology]

On a scale of 1-10 how gay would you say the ninja (turtles and Legos) are, 1 being straight and 10 being the most fruity tooty rainbow colored man whoring pride girlboss who ever did gay

i’m so glad you asked. i’ll start with the legos.

gayest: cole. he literally ran away out of fear of disappointing his father. his life story is a queer allegory. 10/10

next: Zane. even when he’s dating pixal it’s gay because i fundamentally believe both zane and pixal have an inherently complicated relationship with gender as it’s a literal programming within them that they have to learn to dismantle and feel instead of obey. i do think zane and cole kiss. 8/10

jay: run of the mill bisexual. significant preference for women. controversially, i do not headcanon jay as trans under any circumstances. cole jay and zane were a polycule before kai joined the crew. it didn’t stick but it was nice while it lasted. 4/10

kai: used to take a tom hardy approach to sexuality. said to skylor “i’m a ninja of course i’ve had gay sex.” this is because he was looking to zane jay and cole as his reference as to what a ninja was. he’s bisexual. him and skylor are t4t. 6/10

nya: definitely into intricate rituals. for a long time her attraction to jay was comphet. i do think this eventually changed and she loves him for real but for a while it was a role she was trying to fill. she realized this and they broke up but she came to miss him. she’s bisexual. her and pixal have definitely explored each others bodies. 7/10

lloyd: i think lloyd has too many other problems to be gay. i think he’s some form of nonbinary but don’t believe he’d ever label his gender or his sexuality. it’s just not something he has time for. i don’t think he’d ever trust someone enough to actually date them. 3/10

pixal: definitely nya’s queer awakening. pixal has an extremely complicated relationship with womanhood (zane was made to be a son whereas pixal was made to be a servant. these are their programmed genders more so than male and female. they talk about it a lot) but still finds the concept meaningful enough to her to align with. definitely more interested in relationships than zane and has done more exploring. if you catch my drift. 9/10

if u want to know anyone else i’m very willing to follow up.

onto turtles. this might get confusing because i think it varies iteration to iteration but i’ll try to be succinct.

general order of turtles by gayness (in iterations i like):

leonardo, mikey, donatello, raphael

leonardo: in ROTTMNT he’s like a 9/10. the world would have exploded if they’d introduced usagi. like a 7/10 in the 2003 series because usagi is there but he isn’t as brave. lower scores in 2012, idw and bayverse because he’s too busy being cringe or committing incest with karai. like 4/10, 2/10, and 3/10 respectively.

mikey: at least 7/10 no matter the iteration. 9/10 in the IDW comics. he’s the artist of the group. he’s silly. what more is there to say.

donatello: okay here’s the thing. bayverse donnie is an 8/10 because she’s a woman to be. 2012 donatello is like a 6/10 because i believe he wants to kiss casey as well as april. rottmnt donatello is sexless. absolutely 0 bitches want him. still a 5/10.

raphael: his whole bit in toxic masculinity in almost every iteration. 2/10. however rottmnt raphael is a glowing gay point. 4/10. still not high but it’s an improvement.

april o’neil: most gay in rottmnt for obvious reasons. 8/10 there. unfortunately in every other iteration her purpose is to flirt with a turtle or casey jones. 1/10 everywhere else.

casey jones: engages in intricate rituals (playing hockey). however i believe he is actively homophobic in all iterations except ROTTMNT and the idw comics. 3/10

hope this helps.

[verocitea]

Behold, the truth.

[emipon]

So excited to play aaaaaaa can’t wait aaaaaa

[to-rise-above-monsters]

why did isayama put his whole pussy into yumihisu after saying he can’t write romance. and then fumble when it came to the straights.

[tainebot01]

I would like to officially welcome Eustace Winner to the "My Name Is A Cruel Joke My Paternal Figure Played On Me" club

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Eustace Winner from Ace Attorney and Hunter from The Owl House in a handshake, against a purple background. Both are looking towards the camera as if they are taking a picture and both have a look of concern on their faces. Eustace’s expression is significantly more distressed than Hunter’s. End Description]