#i'm not sure if it will be the good sister

[jayparked]

Omg it’s such a good idea. I have a lot, if it is possible then could you make 71, 74 and 95. with Heeseung. You can do separate or take one or two away.🎀

you can't believe how bad your luck is.

the faceless, nameless person you've been flirting with on tindr just had to be your best friend's older brother. who was very obviously off limits to you and has been since the moment you and her became friends. you've been mindlessly and carelessly flirting with this stranger for weeks now, loving the idea of not knowing who was behind the screen.

but tonight, you're over at your friend's house watching a movie with her and her brother heeseung. you and your friend are on a couch on one side of the room while heeseung lays on the other directly across from you two. the movie is boring, your friend fell asleep 30 minutes ago, so you decided to text your mystery man.

except, as soon as you'd send a text, heeseung's phone would buzz. and as soon as heeseung would send a text, your phone would buzz.

"weird," you laugh nervously. heeseung is staring at you with furrowed brows, glancing back and forth between you and his phone. without a word, he lifts his phone up to his ear and, to your dismay, your phone starts ringing with the mystery man's contact info displaying on your phone.

hands trembling, you answer the phone with a meek, "hello?"

"no...no no no," heeseung groans with a nervous laugh. tossing his phone to the end of the couch, his hands come up in a prayer pose against his lips, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward.

your eyes are wide with horror and embarrassment. so, you do the only thing your brain is yelling at you to do: run.

quickly standing up, you clutch your phone to your chest and bolt towards the door, struggling to get your shoes on your feet with how shaky your hands are.

"y/n! wait!" heeseung calls after you, voice still soft enough to not wake his sister. he jumps over the back of the couch and blocks you from the door.

"heeseung, we can't-" you move to try to push past him, but instead he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly. body stiffening, you let heeseung hug you, one of his hands pushing past your hair to cradle your head.

"thank god it's you," he whispers into your hair.

"hee?" your voice cracks, eyes wide with surprise at his confession. heeseung moves his hands to your shoulders and leans back to get a good look at you. his brown eyes are soft as he looks over your features in a way you've never seen him look at you before. if only you knew this is exactly how he looked at you as soon as your back was turned to him.

heeseung cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing against your skin gently, "i don't think i've ever wanted someone more."

he leans in slightly, stopping just before your lips touch to make sure that you're okay with this. finally, you snap out of the shock that had your body frozen, and wrap your arms around his neck, meeting him the rest of the way and press your lips to his.

as soon as your lips connect, a hunger errupts between you; hands roam over one another, the kiss quickly getting sloppy as you feverishly try to consume one another.

an unexpected moan escapes your lips and gets lost tangled on heeseung's tongue when he rolls his hips against your crotch, letting you feel exactly what you've been doing to him. he pulls back after hearing you, realizing his sister is still asleep on the couch.

"oh, the things i'd do to you if we were along right now..." he groans, leaning his head against the door. he grabs one of your hands, intertwining your fingers and smiling softly at you. "but for now i should get you back home."

"i'm supposed to stay the night here, remember? i think someone will be a little upset if they wake up and i'm not here."

"yeah, me." heeseung pouts before letting out a soft laugh. "well, if you can't sleep, you know where to find me."

"maybe you can text me those things you would do to me. you know, if we were alone?" you smirk and glance down at the very obvious bulge in his gray sweatpants.

heeseung pulls you back to his body, one hand roaming down to your ass, grasping the flesh harshly while he leaves open mouth kisses against your neck.

"or maybe i can just show you anyways. what do you say? feeling brave?"

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[inspired-lesson-plans]

Well, since this blew up and became my most successful post, I'll add a few more things about Bordentown's MVP of AP Bio.

She's English, from England (Kent, I'm pretty sure), one of four sisters. Her accent has largely faded over the years, but her cadence never did. Imagine growing up where your mom talks like Ian McKellen.

I inherited some of that affectation, such that when I started teaching a lot of kids would ask where I was from. But I wish that I inherited her memory.

When she got her biology degree, there were only two kingdoms of life: plants and animals. Yet she still remembers more from her time in college than I do.

Has literally never been able to tell left from right. She would put transparencies on the projector backwards and the class would have to tell her that she was the only one who could read it.

One time some of her fellow teachers were discussing the boy bands they used to listen to in Middle School and how that made them feel old; i.e. NSYNC vs One Direction. She chimed in (read this with cadence) "When I was in Middle School, The Beatles were still together."

She once told me "I don't really like recorded music. It doesn't feel alive."

She made that lute to accompany her singing (which she does well but seldom), but she can't actually play it. This is not for lack of trying. More precisely, she learned how to play, but she was never physically able to. The third knuckle on each hand is slightly malformed, such that her ring fingers cannot put enough pressure on the strings, despite many hours of practice. So when the lute got damaged in transit years ago, she repaired it as best she could and then put it away for good. I never knew it existed until I was 18.

In the early 2000s she wrote a YA novel about a girl who gets sucked into the Fey and has to help save them from domination at the hands of Queen Mab. Too many plot points to summarize, neither can I share a link to it because it no longer exists, save for her and my memory. Imagine if your mom had written The Golden Compass, printed it at home, didn't bother publishing it, then lost both the manuscript and the floppy disk that held the only copy.

She also wrote a sci-fi novel about space-faring amnesiac vampires trying to find their home planet. The twist is that they were the products of a top-secret genetic engineering project headed by Dick Cheney during the War on Terror. When she told a colleague about it, he was so bought in that he asked, "Do you think this could be really happening?"

Very concerned that my mom has chosen the path of bioterrorism.

[nczennie]

easier.

Pairing: Reader x NCT's Jeno AU: Established toxic relationship Genre: Smut (18+ only) ♫: Easier - 5sos Preview: He doesn't think he can live without you but he doesn't think he can stand to live with you either. Words: 2.5k *warnings under cut

Warnings: Smut scene (unprotected penetrative sex, oral f. receiving, some slight spanking)

Jeno has always heard there is a fine line between love and hate. And right now as he stares at you across from the apartment, laughing with your friends, he believes it's true.

It was only hours before you were both screaming at each other, arguing over something so miniscule he doesn't even remember. It had ended with you leaving your shared home claiming it was over; yet you came back an hour later and proceeded to get ready, neither of you acknowledging what happened.

This cycle has been going on for months now. A toxic circle of hatred and love all tangled together that neither of you could tell the difference anymore.

You and Jeno were high school sweethearts; innocent and sweet love. He was your first kiss, first relationship, first love, and you were his. The pair of you claimed to be so in love that you followed him to his dream university, even declining an offer to study abroad in the country you always dreamed of visiting. Maybe that's why you hate him so much, Jeno thinks as he fills his cup in the kitchen. Too distracted by his thoughts to even enjoy the party, even though it was to celebrate him. He continues to think back to high school, how much he loved you. And now you both were weeks away from graduating university and so much as changed.

Maybe we shouldn't have moved in together, he thinks trying his best to recall when this growing annoyance has started. It seemed like an amazing idea all those months ago to get an apartment together for your last semester of school. But now you're both stuck here living together until the lease is up. Maybe that's when you'll be over too, the relationship ending with the lease as if some sort of contract. Is that what you want? Jeno thinks to himself, yet just like all the other times he doesn't know. He doesn't think he can live without you but he doesn't think he can stand to live with you either. Maybe we can work it out.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. That's all that ever fills Jeno's mind when he thinks about you now. Trying to see what was wrong in the past, trying to see what will happen in the future. He isn't sure what to think anymore.

"What are you doing in here all alone?!" Jeno nearly jumps as the voice of his best friend booms in the kitchen. He merely lifts his cup up, as if showing Jaemin he was filling it. Jaemin throws his arm over his shoulder, "Dude, this party is for your birthday, why are you hiding in the kitchen?" He doesn't want to tell him he's hiding from you, from the growing hatred he feels in his chest when he sees you. From the softness that follows when he sees your smile, making him forget the feeling in the first place.

But Jaemin doesn't wait for an answer, only dragging him back into the living room where people linger and dance to the booming music. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Jaemin whispers in his ear causing his eyebrows to furrow. He nods his head to the side and Jeno smirks when he realizes he's referring to Haechan's sister. Jaemin has been crushing on Haechan's sister for years now but has refrained from taking action in fear of how their friend will react. But now she's at the party dancing wearing a dress that causes Jaemin to blush.

Jeno chuckles, "Why don't you ask her to dance?" Jaemin scoffs. "With Haechan lingering around, no thanks." Jeno shrugs, "Someone else might just do it then, especially if she's looking as good as that." Jaemin only nods in agreement, both of the friends taking in how she looks.

After taking her in, his eye move across the room, looking at the guests who have arrived since he was in the kitchen. His gaze continues to move across the room until he meets yours.

You're stood in the corner with a couple of your close friends but as even as they talk your eyes are on him. Your jaw is clenched, your stare speaking more than words. Jeno knows right away you saw him looking at Haechan's sister, obviously not pleased with how he was appreciating her. He rolls his eyes, not even hiding the movement from you. Earlier you were claiming to leave him and now you were mad at him for looking at another girl.

He turns, eager to escape your gaze, making his way around the crowded room. The music is pounding and the lights are dimmed making his head start to ache. Jeno craves just a moment of silence so he moves to the hallway, moving past a couple making out to get into his room. Your shared room.

Chugging the rest of his drink, he puts the empty solo cup on the dresser before moving to sit on the edge of the bed letting out a frustrated sigh.

The door to the room opens and he looks on as you make your way into the room, shutting it behind you. You don't make an effort to move, merely standing in front of the entry staring at him and he leans back onto one arm on the bed, feet still planted firmly on the ground. Jeno glares back at you, taking in your figure which looks more like a shadow with the only light in the room being the glowing blue leds hanging around the ceiling. "I came in here to be alone, you know." he finally speaks out as you slowly move to make your way over to him. "Everyone is here to celebrate you, isn't it rude of you to be hiding away from them." You reply and Jeno bites his tongue, wanting to voice it's you he's hiding from not them.

"I just needed a moment." he murmurs instead which causes you to let out a scoff, "What? A moment away from enjoying Haechan's sister?"

His chest rumbles with annoyance, you've known as long as him that Jaemin has eyes for her not him, but lately both of you have been finding any reason to pick fights with each other. "Is that seriously why you came in here to bother me? Because you thought I was checking someone else out?" He listens as a humorless laugh leaves you, "Because my boyfriend is obviously eyeing some other girl in our own home? They noticed you know, my friends. They saw you, do you know how humiliating that is?" Your voice rises with every word.

Throwing his head back Jeno groans, "Do we really have to do this now? All our friends are here, let's just work it out in the morning."

You finally move the rest of the distance to stand in between his open thighs. Jeno lets his eyes to linger on your bare thighs, move upward to take in the tight dress your wearing; it's his favorite dress, he picked it out more than a year ago. He eyes move up to eventually meet your gaze and he can't help the jump of his heart, not matter what he feels he will never not think you are the most gorgeous person he has ever met.

"I'm sorry," you whisper and he swallows. "It's fine," he mumbles back because right now it's so hard to blame you because he finds you so beautiful.

Jeno sucks in a breath as you suddenly move to straddle his waist, the skirt of your dress moving to scrunch up on your upper thighs. He stays leaning back on his arms, merely watching as you study him. Reaching up, you run one of your hands through his dark har, "I just wanted you to have a nice birthday," you whisper to him and he would laugh in annoyance if he wasn't currently so captivated by you.

Instead he leans forward, lips almost brushing yours, "You can still make it nice for me," he mumbles causing you to smirk. Your eyes take in his face for a second before moving in to push your lips against his. The two of you kiss with fever, it's sloppy and filled with lust. Gone are the days where kisses meant something other than fucking. There is no love in your kisses anymore, just a toxic passion and lots of tongue.

You break from the kiss with a bite of his lip, pulling on it as you pull away from him. Jeno leans back on his forearms, attempting to catch his breath as he keeps his eyes on you. Your breath is just as unsteady as his and his eyes bounce along your face as a smirk grows on your lips. "Let me sit on your face." Speaking out to him, a scoff leaves him but doesn't match the smirk the joins his mouth as well. He leans back the rest of the way, laying flat on the bed, throwing his arms above his head, "C'mon well."

Taking a moment to stand, you shimmy out of your lace underwear, hiking the skirt of the dress over your stomach. You move back over Jeno, placing your knees on either side of your head before slowly dropping your cunt onto his mouth.

He accepts your eagerly, hands wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer to him, tongue reaching out to meet you. You let out a shaky breath, eyes rolling closed has he sucks hungrily on your clit before lapping his tongue over you like you're his favorite meal.

The wet slurping he makes can barely be heard over the loud music from the living area but it turns you on even further. Leaning forward, you place your hands on the bed in order to steady yourself. Grinding down with a moan, you move in order to perfectly rub your clit over the tip of his nose. He lets you move on top of him, his tongue licking messily over your juices, dripping over his chin.

His hands move from your thighs up to grasp the meat of your ass, pushing you to move faster against his face as your moans become louder.

Jeno swings his hand back slightly in order to leave a slap on your ass, the slight pain making your jerk but the whine leaving your mouths only makes him repeat his actions.

He can easily tell you're close to your finish as you become whinier, movements becoming uneven. Grabbing your thighs once more, his strong grip makes you hold still. He moves his mouth to your clit once more, sucking and tongue flicking over it in such a manner your legs start to shake.

Your hands grab the sheets till your knuckles are white. You cum hard, biting your lips still don't mask your cries of ecstasy. Despite this Jeno keeps his mouth on your making you whine out his name, thighs shaking to close around his head.

He finally releases you with a pop, allowing you to move off of him as he licks over his lips. Keeping his eyes on you as you move to be level with him once more. He thinks you look beautiful flushed and sweaty from the orgasm he just gave you.

There's no talking as you more towards him, tongue sticking out to lick over the mess you made on his chin. He groans, closing his eyes, letting you lick your juices off his mouth. Only opening his own when you lick into his lips.

He licks back into your own mouth, his hand reaching up to roughly hold onto your hair. He feels your hand move to unbutton his pants, and you pull away from his mouth as you take his cock out.

"Gunna ride you." you say simply, tugging his pants out just enough to give you access and pulling his shirt up just enough to show the lower half of his stomach as he leans back comfortably on his forearms.

He watches quietly as you adjust your dress once more before straddling his lap. You face the door, leaving him a view of your ass as your reach behind you to grab his cock.

Jeno thinks of a time where sex wasn't so quiet. Where he was constantly telling you how good you were for him, or how beautiful you looked. But nowadays there was little to no talking.

But before he could dwell on the fact any longer, he lets out a quiet groan to match yours as you sink slowly down onto him. His mouth falls open but he doesn't let himself tear his gaze away from where your wet cunt swallows him perfectly.

Once you're comfortable, you place your hands between his thighs, letting yourself bounce on his cock at your own pace. Jeno bites his lip, running his hand through his dark hair. The sound of your ass meeting his thighs taking up the dark room.

He balances his weight on one forearm, lifting the other to place a smack on your ass, enjoying the whine you let out. "Yeah," He groans deeply, as you ride him faster, placing a few more smacks, hypnotized by the way it jiggles around him.

Sinking down on his cock, you're flat against his pelvis, moving your hips in slow circles. He's so deep in you, your eyes flutter. Jeno feels it too, your walls squeezing him so tight he has to drop his upper half of his body down onto the mattress. His hands come up to squeeze your hips still so hard it nearly hurts and he finishes inside of you with a raspy groan.

Jeno can feel his face burning up with how hard he came but he comes to senses, keeping his grip on you but lifting you slightly. Once he regains his strength, he moves his hips off the bed in order to fuck into you.

Ignoring any sensitivity in favor of making you cum. You moan at his fast pace, feeling the wetness from you both leaking out of your hole and onto his cock.

It's not long before your head hangs with a silent cry, yet another orgasm ripping through your body. He slows his pace once he feels you finish, letting you move up and down on him slowly in order to ride it out.

There's a couple moments of stillness before reality sets in again. The music from outside of the door once again blaring louder than your breathing.

Carefully you get off of him and stand, pulling your dress down. He watches as you slowly walk to the bathroom, clearly wanting to freshen up and fix your makeup.

He takes a breath before following you, grabbing a towel and wetting it before moving to clean between your legs as your lean into the mirror. Using a q-tip to remove any running makeup, you mumble a thanks as he finishes wiping you down before moving to clean himself.

"We're never going to change, are we?" Jeno says.

"No," You say before gently pushing him out of the bathroom so you can finish, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Copyright © 2024 by nczennie. All rights reserved.

🌼 All feedback is appreciated and welcomed 🌼

[marauders-bs]

Lily carefully unlocked the window closest to the big oak tree, doing her best not to disturb Petunia.

She was about to go off to Hogwarts again, and she wan't sure if this sunrise would be worth climbing onto the apartment complex's roof and risking Petunia's wrath, but she didn't really care. She was going into her sixth year. Her sister could fuck herself.

"Morning," Remus whispered as she climbed onto the roof. "How are you feeling?"

"It's six in the morning, ask later," Lily grumbled, perching on the tip of the roof like she had for years.

Remus laughed softly, a kind of longing appearing in his eyes as he looked over at the just-awakening horizon.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Rem?" Lily asked. "Sirius... he's oblivious, and I'm sure you could find someone better."

"I don't want someone better," Remus said. "You don't want someone better than that Rosier girl anyways, you don't have room to talk."

"Details," Lily said, waving a hand. "How'd you convince your parents to stay here of all places while they're in England?"

"Cheap rent, a good view, and close to one of my best friends," Remus responded, ticking off the answers on his fingers. "Also, I'm stubborn. I would've come here myself if they wouldn't have taken me."

Lily laughed. "What's so special about this summer?"

"We're gonna make it happen this year, Lils," Remus replied. "We're gonna bully Reg into realizing he likes James, we're gonna get Dorcas and Marlene together, and we're gonna find Peter and Mary people. We're gonna get ours. I'm determined."

"Well, then," Lily said, smiling as the sun appeared over the horizon. "You'd better get on that, hadn't you?"

[eerna]

Jail cell sex scene was good, the giggles were cute, but the timing and setting was just completely off. This is not an unpopular opinion ofc but HOW did they think this was a good idea. "Oh ya Vi just got abandoned by her sister who was like 'I'm gonna go kms btw.' Now is the time to have her fuck Cait" Bro are you sure though??? It's just comical cause like. Maybe a little more time for Vi to breathe and for Cait to be like "I let her go intentionally btw" and THEN the scene would've worked but as it is it was just so jarring

YEAH and you know the reason? The finale is missing the "calm before the storm" moment. YOu know how every final battle has that period before it when characters do whatever they gotta do before going to fight? THAT's usually when the romance happens. But here we jumped straight from the war planning into the battle, without any leadup, so they had to smash in a really awkward moment or not at all. PRIORITIES, PEOPLE!!!

[royalthedemigod]

alright, his answers below:

💐 I'm not sure I believe in love at first sight. I think love takes time. Getting to know someone, learning their quirks and flaws, that's what makes love real.

🌹 I do make promises. And I always keep them. Keeping my word is everything to me. I would never make a promise I couldn't keep.

🥀 I'd consider myself a realist. I've seen a lot in my time. Good and bad. I know the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows. (and then he said to me, he's an optimist because i bring light into his world :3 RAAAHHH)

🌺 Strange? Nah, baby. I'm just unique. And yeah, I think people like me. I'm charming, funny, and I look damn good in stripes.

🌷 Pet peeves? Hmm. People who talk during movies. Drives me nuts. And slow walkers. Come on, people. Pick up the pace.

🪷 Disorganized. Through and through. But I'm not overwhelmed by it. I kind of thrive in the chaos.

🌸 I'd say I'm more extroverted. I love being around people, causing trouble, making jokes.

💮 Favorite time of year? Probably fall. I just love the crisp air, the changing leaves, the smell of pumpkin spice everywhere. Plus, Halloween. Can't forget about that. It's like my birthday, but spookier.

🏵️ When I have a free moment? I like to cause a little mischief. Nothing too crazy. Just some harmless pranks, maybe scare a few people. Keeps life interesting.

🪻 Something small? When you remember the little things. Like making my coffee just how I like it. Or leaving a note on the mirror. The small gestures mean the most. Because they show me you're thinking of me, even when I'm not around.

🌻 Raised a baby animal? Can't say I have. But I'd be down to try. Especially if it meant cuddling with a tiny kitten or puppy.

🌼 Before I fall asleep? I think about you. Though I wouldn't say no to a cuddle with a stuffed animal. As long as you're there too. (while referring to me, btw :333)

🍁 I'd say I'm a little bit of both. Left-brained enough to plan a good con, right-brained enough to think outside the box. I think being a mix is the best. Keeps things interesting.

🍄 If I could live in a fantasy world? I'd be a superhero. Saving damsels in distress, fighting crime, all that jazz. (then, said i could be his side-kick WOOO)

🌳 Reincarnated? Hmm. I think I'd like to come back as a ghost again. But maybe a different kind of ghost. Like a friendly Casper-type ghost. Bringing joy and laughter wherever I go.

he's so cute, i love him :3

(also, credit to @/sister-lucier for the bj dividers)

f/ovember questionnaire ask game!

heres a list of questions not necessarily about your selfship, but questions for your f/o to answer for f/ovember!

💐 - do you believe in love at first sight? why or why not? do you think it's better to get to know a person before you allow yourself to love them?

🌹 - do you makes promises? do you keep them? how important is it to you that you keep the promises that you make?

🥀 - are you more of a pessimist or an optimist? or would you consider yourself a realist? why?

🌺 - do you consider yourself to be a strange person? do you think other people like you? why or why not?

🌷 - what are your pet peeves? do you know why you dislike those things?

🪷 - would you consider yourself to be organized? disorganized? does being in disorganized spaces overwhelm you?

🌸 - at heart, are you more introverted or extroverted? do you value alone time or time with others more?

💮 - do you have a favorite time of year? what is it? is there any reason why you prefer that over others?

🏵️ - when you have no obligations you need to attend to, what do you like to do when you have a free moment to yourself that isn't one of your hobbies?

🪻 - whats something small that people do for you that you appreciate?

🌻 - have you ever raised a baby animal? like a kitten or a puppy? how was that experience? would you ever want to do that, or would you do it again if you have done it before?

🌼 - what do you usually think about before you fall asleep? do you have any comforts you keep with you in bed? like a stuffed animal or a baby blanket?

🍁 - do you consider yourself more left-brained or right-brained? do you think it's better to be one or the other, or do you think its better to be a little bit of both?

🍄 - if you could live in a fantasy world where anything was possible, what would you find yourself doing?

🌳 - if you could be reincarnated as anything in the world, what would you like to be reincarnated as?

reblog or whateva to use :P have fun! send some other folks that reblog an ask! or send me one, if you wish :)

[dr-flipflops]

OOC: Will's Lonely 18th Birthday people, as per Cresent's request. - @permetutotheworld @the-eclipse-is-in-me @fukurouonthesea Here we go :) Its sooooooo long, I got so bloody carried away, sorry guys.

*Will left another tray in front of Nico's door, a yellow sticky note on the side*

(what the note said is in italics)

*I hope you've been eating all the food I'm giving you Neeks. Ew- I'm 18 today, EW!!! I'm oooooold :( . I don't have to be a functional adult now do I? Surely, I get a pass for being neurodivergent. I hope you have a nice day INSIDE, please come out. I miss you*

*It had been a week, and Nico was still holed up in the cabin. Will had been denied access, but he'd seen Cresent and Noa go in just fine, heck even CLARISSE gained entrance. It broke something inside Will, but he shrugged it off. They were his family, of course he'd let them in. Will was just an inconvenience he had to put up with, and take care of. He'd known Clarisse for years, Cresent was his sister, and Noa was like his little brother*

*Its fine Solace, come on. Its your birthday. Cheer up. Its fine. Everything's okay.*

*Will's siblings had given him a lovely morning, and the campers who remembered and were the ones who still looked him in the eye had wished him at breakfast. It was nice. But it wasn't the same. Chiron had given him the full day empty, but he had no-one to celebrate with. His siblings all had duties, and they refused to let him work on his birthday. Everyone else was busy too. Will would usually go back to Texas for the week to be with his mother, but with Nico holed up he wanted to stay here*

*Besides, it wasn't like he wanted to celebrate it anyways. The only thing good about it was that he was another year closer to the grave. He didn't know what to do, he wished he could work, that way at least he wouldn't feel so lonely and useless. At least healing gave him a purpose and he felt good after saving someone. At least he'd feel something*

*Will lazily walked through the woods, kicking his feet, cupcake with candle in hand. He made it to his special spot on the coast, where he had the shade of the trees, and a view of the sparkling lake, but could still bask in the sun's rays without it bothering his eyes, not that it had ever in the first place. Wind whistled past, and birds sang, the sun shone golden rays that illuminated the rocks, slick with crashing waves*

*The day was undoubted perfect. Will knew it was curtesy of his father, his way of saying "happy birthday". Will was grateful, but he didn't really feel it*

*The candle glowed bright, Will cupped the cupcake in his hands and held it close*

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to meee.

*Will blew it out gently, and wished that today would be the day Nico would come out, even if it was to just say a simple hello. Tears stung his eyes and he laughed a little*

Guess I'm an adult now. huh. Never thought I'd get here.

*Will leaned back against the rock behind his perch, face tilted up as one or two tears down*

But you always knew, didn't you Lee? You said I'd make it Micheal, you were right it seems.

*Tears choked his throat, he looked up at the trees shadowing him above, and the sun softly shining through the canopies. It was like they were here, he could almost hear their voice. Almost feel the laughter of the younger ones. Gracie would've loved to meet Fay*

I wish you were here. I wish you all were.

*Something shimmer past his head and he looks to see his mother's smiling face*

*Will jolts upright*

MA!!?

Naomi: Hi Billy!!! Aw, my little William has grown up so much, 18 now! I thought you were coming home for your birthday?

Will: You-you remembered?

Naomi: no, I just happened to throw a drachma into the lake on accide- OF COURSE I REMEMBERED WILLY!!! You're my favourite son, I can't believe expect so little of your mother.

Will: Ma, I'm your only son.

Naomi: Even better! No competition. Anyways, how come you aren't home?

Will: Sorry Ma, things happened, and I got caught up in camp.

Naomi: Aw, I wanna see my son! You're officially an adult!

Will *small laugh*: Still can't drink though.

Naomi: You can drink water.

Will *groans*: Maaaaa

Naomi: Oh pish posh. Those Americanos *tuts* we're Spanish William, they don't have to know *winks*

Will *laughs fully for the first time all day*: Maaa!

Naomi *grumbles about Americans, then gives Will a stern look* : You better come home for Christmas William Andrew Solace, and you can tell that Chiron of yours to stick it where the sun don't shine if he says otherwise

Will *laughs again*: Alright, alright ma!!!

Naomi *smiles*: Seriously. Oh look at you my sweet boy. When you were taken from me, you couldn't even tie your laces, now you're 18, all grown up. *sighs*

Will: I'm still your little boy Ma, always

Naomi: Damn right you are! Don't you change a bit Billy. You've got a big heart, you dare lose it and your Abuelo will roll in the grave, and your Abuela will storm over from Spain

Will: Don't worry! I won't :) Even if the reason is my fear of Abuela's ladle.

Naomi: That woman, when she has her hands on a cooking utensil, y'all better run away or run towards the table ready to be stuffed like a Christmas hog.

Will: Yeah.

Naomi: Well, you're only 18 once Willy, I hope you have a good day!

Will *tight smile, hiding the loneliness*: Yep, terrific, look! I got the cupcakes you sent me!!!

Naomi: Aw, *someone gestures off-screen* uh huh, *back to Will* Billy, I'm so sorry, but I'm gonna have to go, there's something wrong with the sound systems, I'm so sorry. I want to talk to you more, after all, my baby is only gonna turn 18 once, its a special day! *bites lip and looks conflicted*

Will *his heart breaks. He was gonna be alone again. He makes a smile*: Its alright Ma, I've got a cupcake to eat after all! *huffs a laugh*

Naomi *blows him a kiss*: Love ya Willy! Happy birthday sweetheart.

Will: Bye-

*Naomi cuts the message*

-Ma.

*Will swallows. He was alone again. His mother had more important things to do, OF COURSE SHE DID SOLACE, SHE HAS A LIFE, grow up Will. Will took the burnt out yellow candle from the cake, and bites into it*

*It tasted like home. Tears brimmed on Will's eyes and warm memories flooded his brain at the chocolate melting in his mouth*

*Memories of Spain- the brightly coloured streamers everyone would hang around. Abuela would be cooking a feast in the kitchen , so Will would wake up to the scents of heaven filling the house and smooches from Ma. He'd bound down the stairs and promptly be told that even though it was his birthday he still had to brush his teeth. Will would get it done as fast as possible, then go and help Ma bake cookies and cupcakes. He'd go outside and immediately be pelted with shouts and cries, hugs and noogies from the neighbourhood kids. Then, after being fed like a king, at night, the family would gather and Will would blow out the candles, and cut the cake to find the clue at the center*

*He'd use the clue to find others to find his gifts, which only then he'd be able to open. The whole procedure from the candles, to the singing, to the cake, to the hunt, to the opening would be filmed. Will's beaming face photographed on his birthday every year*

*Will finished the cupcake, and found a note in the centre. Hollowness that had filled his heart swelled. It was a little heart with a smile, and a "happy birthday Billy". Will smiled through the tears, and he was almost home in Texas with his Ma. But he looked up and the empty lonely came back. He smiled a bit through the tears. At least his Ma had sent him these. Will knew he was going to find other notes in the other cupcakes, he turned the paper over and found another message: "Brush ya teeth Billy"*

*Will laughed, and no one heard*

-----

*That night, Will came back late, his siblings already fast asleep*

*He felt vacant again*

*Nico had decidedly NOT come out. He didn't see Aria's smile all day, and Noa never even said hi. Cresent, as per usual, avoided him*

*Will collapsed into bed, and curled up. Emotionally exhausted*

*He missed home. He missed his Ma. He mourned his life. He mourned the Will Solace he used to be, the one everyone sees, the one everyone wants. Campers look at him, but its not him they see, they see the Will they knew, the Will he'll never live up- hell he doesn't even remember the memories, HE DOESN'T KNOW THAT WILL. He missed Nico. He missed being loved. He missed so much. He hated this overwhelming, all consuming loneliness. It's like his life has been reset, and everyone is treading on eggshells, and he was deserted by those he loved most all over again*

*For his "special day" he sure as hell didn't feel it- DON'T BE SELFISH SOLACE. he felt nothing at all, and while that may be a blessing some days, today he hated it. Hated himself. Hated living*

*When he had gone to pick up Nico's tray he saw that Nico hadn't taken the note. He always took the note. Will didn't bother placing another one with the next tray*

*Something consumed him*

*That night, Will cried himself to sleep*

[dsireland86]

Requesting Noah x reader where the reader experiences post partum depression after giving birth to their newborn baby girl.

Post partum depression is no joke and something so many women, including myself, have had to deal with. I wish it on no new mom. But, when you have a good partner who supports you entirely, it makes all the difference🥰

Post-Partum

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

I held her in my arms like she was the most valuable thing in the world. To me she was. She was my daughter. She was the best part of me and her mother put together, a treasure created out of pure love. I looked over at my wife, watching as she delivered the remaining proof of her pregnancy, feeling nothing but pride and respect for her. What I had just witnessed in the last thirteen hours was nothing short of an absolute miracle. I had no idea how difficult it was for a woman to give birth until now. The strength and resilience I saw in her made me see her and all women in a whole new light. It was an indescribable yet incredible feeling. She looked up at me, smiling her beautiful yet exhausted smile. She looked completely different now; she was a mother. I grinned back, offering her our daughter and gently laid her on her chest when she said yes. "Noah, she has your nose and your eyes," my wife gushed, kissing our little girl's rosy forehead. "She really does, doesn't she?" I marveled, unable to hide my grin. I kissed my wife's forehead, praising her over and over for what she went through for us. I had what I'd always wanted. I had my family.

Days after we came home were a struggle. The nights were sleepless, the days exhausting. The constant feeding and changing diapers was a lot of work I wasn't prepared for. But neither was my wife. She started crying more than usual. At first, it was simple little tears, but then there were days where those tears lingered all day and sometimes into the night, too. They would lead into spurts of her doubting her ability to be a mother and caring for our baby the way she needed to be cared for. That's when she would say things like, "Our daughter does better when I'm not around. Maybe it's for the best", or "I just want to disappear. All of this is too much." I knew she was exhausted, not mentally prepared for any of this, so I did my best to help take the burden off her shoulders, hoping it would help. Sometimes it did, but most of the time I think it only made things worse.

A few weeks went by, and things began to mellow out some; with our daughter at least. We got into a routine and a schedule of sleep, making the nights more bearable. But my wife would still have her spouts of irritability, sometimes waking up and starting things for no reason. It was usually over little things like dishes or clothes, but then it started to become bigger. She accused me of not being home enough and not helping out enough which would always end with her falling apart and crying again. It broke me. I didn't know what to do, except hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay, even though I wasn't so sure. I would watch her during feedings and how she seemed distant from our baby, looking away, never making that mother to baby eye contact I read about in the "What to Expect When Your Wife is Expanding" book Jolly bought me for my first "father's day". She was physically there, but not mentally.

Days after our daughter turned a month old, I came home to find her sitting on the couch in the living room, staring into nothing. She had the most distant spaced out look on her face, her eyes completely void of anything. "Baby, are you alright?" I gently shook her. She finally snapped out of whatever daze she was in, shaking her head. "Noah," smiling weakly at me. "Baby, I'm really worried about you. You're not looking or acting like yourself," I finally admitted to her. "I feel okay," she said weakly. "When was the last time you ate?" I brushed some loose hair out of her eyes, running my hand down her cheek. She thought for a moment then shrugged. "Come on, I sighed, taking her hand and pulling her towards the kitchen. That's when the baby monitor went off, signaling our little girl was awake. "Why don't you go get her, and I'll make us something to eat." My wife shook her head. "No, you get her. She wants her daddy." Letting go of my hand she made her way into the kitchen, leaving me in a bit of shock. I thought this was the worst of it, but I didn't know how much worse it could get.

Sex was out of the question. Not just for the first six weeks of course, but even past that. She closed herself off to me, not wanting me to touch her or be around her. It got to the point that she was sleeping on the couch and whenever I came into the room she would leave. I didn't understand any of it. I eventually had to stay home from the studio and recording with the guys, having everyone bring everything to my house because I was too scared to leave her and the baby alone. Something was off with my wife, and I couldn't figure it out. I was taking it personally, thinking that the end of us had come and what was meant to be the happiest time in our lives was now becoming the hardest and most hurtful. I was done. I couldn't go through with it anymore.

One night, after our little one fell asleep after her feeding, my wife laid her in her bassinet then turned to leave the room. "Don't leave. Please. Just stay with me for a minute," I asked, trying not to sound too desperate. She turned and looked at me with tears in her eyes. All the color was gone from her beautiful face, her complexion dull. Her hair, normally shiny and in her wavy ponytail, was unkept, piled high on the top of her head in a messy bun. Her sleep clothes were the same ones she'd worn for almost a week. This was nothing but a shell of my wife and it killed me seeing her this way. "Come sit with me, baby, please," patting the bed next to me. At first she hesitated, but then, surprisingly, she came and partially sat on the bed. I tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling at her when she looked at me so sadly. I leaned in to kiss her, slowly so as to not startle her, and felt relieved when she kissed me back. Her hands found the back of my neck, twisting the longer pieces of hair at the nape of it. Her touch sent shivers down my spine. I was longing for her in ways I didn't even realize. "I miss you," I confessed, placing my forehead to hers and holding her head between my hands. "I know," she sniffed and I wiped away the tears that slid down her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. "I miss you, too, Noah." "Then talk to me," I whispered, "tell me what you're feeling. Even if you can't make sense out of it. Just tell me anyway. I'll listen." And she did. I ran a hot bubble bath and for the first time in months I held my wife's beautiful naked body against mine, listening as she told me everything she had been going through. I washed her hair, scrubbed her back, and helped her shave her legs, and in return, she gave me the best sex I'd had in a while. Watching her face as she came on my cock buried up inside her made me cum, the feeling taking us both to a higher place we hadn't been in a while. It was euphoric. Once out of the bath and fully dressed, she checked on our little angel still fast asleep, and for the first time since we brought her home, I watched the brightest, sweetest smile grace my wife's face as she looked down on her. It made my heart swell with joy. We discovered that night, after some slight research that what she was experiencing was called postpartum depression. It's something most new mother's get, some more extreme than others. We weren't throwing all our eggs into the basket of self diagnosis, but she promised to call her doctor the next morning and schedule an appointment.

Seven months old. Time flies when you're having fun. I watched my wife as she attempted to feed our angel sweet potatoes for the first time. Surprisingly, she liked them. A quarter of the jar later and we had a happy, sleepy little baby. I cleaned her up and handed her to mama as she willingly and lovingly took her and cradled her just the way she liked it. With some warm milk, a soft blanket, and mama's arms, our little girl was out like a light. My wife looked up at me, smiling brightly. She was herself again and there was no better feeling than to see her return. With a mild medication and a little therapy, postpartum depression slowly made its way out of our lives, restoring to me the woman I loved. She apologized, over and over, time and time again, but I always reminded her there was nothing to apologize for. None of it was ever her fault. "Thank you for sticking it out with me, Noah. Thank you for not running away." I took her hand and kissed it, rubbing her growing belly carrying baby Davis number two. Now that we knew what to mostly expect, this little gem would be easier to handle. "For better or for worse, Princess. You've got me and them, forever."

[ozs-twink-boytoy]

Quirks: Or how not to tokenized your characters

(Disclaimer: this guide doesn't replace research. You still gotta put in the work to portray a culture respectfully and without stereotypes)

When I want to write a character who's from a different background than me (sexuality, gender wise, race, etc) I find that in order to not make that a character a token. I give them two quirks for start, one informed by their identity, but that seems random. And a random one thats actually informed by their identity.

Take my character, Anissa. She's black and Muslim. Moved from the US to the UK for work. OK? I got the foundation. Now let's give her a sorta... strange quirk informed by her background... let's say uhh... she keeps a small bug camera on her shoes.

How's that informed by her background? Well, when she was a kid, she always got her shoes stolen at the mosque by kids who bullied her, and so she started putting sort of prank traps on them and never quite got over that?

That's a good informed quirk cause it tells me something about her (she's kinda distrustful and has baggage from being a bullying survivor) and it's tied to how she was raised, in a Muslim household.

That gives me three character building stuff I can work from:

Backstory

Cultural background

Personality

That's good. Now, for a random, that a first glance seems identity influenced. She wears a black hijab. Cause of her religion? Sure, that's a part of it, she's quite devoted. But her family is rather reformist... but they're also kinda boring. So Anissa has this punk vibe going on: ⬇️

. And she's much more alternative than say, her twin sister, Aisha. Who's always been the golden child. Dressing punk rock is her way of standing out. Again with the three major pillars of a character: Backstory, Personality and Cultural background.

Is this an infallible rule? Nah, I'm just some guy. But like... it kinda works. You know how having a prompt to limit you makes creativity flow better? Well, having a quirk to limit you makes it easier to build a backstory. At least for me.

[jsxjmn]

09 - fuck

previous • masterlist • next

"Aeri? Can I come inside?" Karina remarked, knocking on Giselle's door. "Come in," Giselle replied. Karina entered the room and noticed Giselle sitting on her bed. "What do you want?" Giselle asked, annoyed.

"I want to apologize for earlier," Karina muttered. "So you really did something?” Giselle asked “No! "I didn't do anything at all, that's why," Karina remarked.

"What do you mean?"" Giselle inquired, perplexed. "She introduced herself to me, and all I said was, hey, I didn't even look at her," Karina replied, looking down. "Why did you do that?"Giselle asked.

"I was nervous, okay?" "I don't know why, but when I saw your sister, I felt scared, I was scared to meet someone new, and I didn't know how to interact with someone I didn't know yet," Karina remarked.

“So you don’t like my sister?” Giselle asked “I do! i like your sister” Karina said making Giselle raised her eyebrow “No! not in that way, I promise i don’t like your sister that way, I like her to be my friend” Karina said panicking

“Are you sure? Because if you do," Giselle said, looking at Karina, "I'm not going to allow that happen. I promise," Karina said. "Okay, unnie. good to know" Giselle said.

"Are we okay now?" Karina asked, "Yup!"Giselle said while texting someone on her phone "Are you talking to anyone? Shall I leave?" Karina asked.

"No! It's okay, it's only Aera. They're leaving for LA tomorrow, so she's asking if I'd want to go eat lunch with her." Giselle said “LA?" Karina asked "Yup, Katseye is based in LA." Giselle answered "Oh alright, We don't have a schedule for tomorrow, so you may go." Karina said

“Okay! thank you unnie” Giselle said, Karina smiled at her before leaving the room

Synopsis: When Aespa Giselle's younger sister made her debut as a member of the international girl group Katseye, and caught the attention of Aespa's beloved leader.

ps. don’t mind the typos

(open) taglist: @yeetaberry127 @yjiminswallet @sixflame438 @ourlovesarang @saysirhc @tzuyusdoughnut @1luvkarina @hwm1hyun @gtfoiydlyj @swanyvess @arihiu @starstruckgoateepuppy @hyessemble

[thatshadowcomic]

Sonadow fan child mega dump

Still working on the ideas, still not 100% sold on a name... Im trying to picture Sonic and Shadow's playful banter on kids names, making fun of each other's suggestions.

Naming:

I originally thought Sky or Star or even "Terra" which is Earths name. You guys gave a lot of really good ideas, too, thank you so much!!Sunny is cute, too and Rouge calls Shadow "sunshine" a lot. Maybe something to do with water or planetary stuff, given Shadow would have looked out of the ARK with Maria a lot.

I even thought about "beauty and the beast", naming her bell relating to how Bell was "like maria" or rather, the concept of clarity bells and chimes and the sound/mysticism of bells in history as spiritually healing.

Plus it's funny to think of her being like Sonic and pulling a "DING! times up!" and destroying Eggman's future projects.

"Beauty and the beast?? Isnt Maria your sister--" "I won't entertain your crude humor. Bell accepted the beast for who he was, not what he was called or what he looked to be. Despite what she was told about him, she wanted to offer him a chance to be happy. A chance we all deserve... Regardless how it ends, the beauty of that story, at least to me, is not the romance, it's about love. Love isn't strictly romantic. She saw his heart and showed it to him, and he learned that the world might label you, but it's you who decides to accept or deny that label." "Heh, you should start a podcast-- call it stuck in a PODcast :)" "I hope she get's my humor." "And what humor is that?" "I can be very funny, Sonic. You're just... too slow." ":0"

Story one, the failed son:

He's created in the lab, hidden from GUN, but using their resources. Shadow's basically desperate because a child, to him, represents Sonic's immortality. Sonic will die one day, and Shadow fears what that means--but he also is living through the child. He wants a better version of himself, a "pure" one.

Doom's blood is removed, but several embryos fail completely. He finds a new "stabilizer" in the way of a chaos emerald shard, which Sonic would have never allowed, had he known. I think at some point Shadow would become as obsessed as Gerald, which causes Sonic to back off a bit...

Basically this creates a chain reaction:

Shadow abandons the kid with Sonic, after Sonic learns about the shard and warns Shadow that this could be a disaster. Shadow hides on the ARK, fearful that one day he will be the only one strong enough to destroy/stop his child, should he lose control to the Chaos energy coursing through him. Using the power only harms him, but really, it's turning him into a uncontrollable vessel of chaos, like biolizard.

Somehow Shadow hopes that losing any attachment to the kid will allow his destruction to be easier, but to Sonic, he gave up, accepting the kid as doomed. Sonic resents this deeply, even if he doesnt outright say it...He wonders if Shadow could have helped him manage his powers.

Ultimate power:

In reality, the child's need for validation is the very reason he would lose control in the first place, desperate to control his powers. Sonic would try to convince him he can just be his normal self, not to use the powers, as they damage him each time. But the kid eventually loses it and tries to draw shadow out of the ARK by destroying everything he can, until Shadow can see him from space.

"You love this planet more than me... Then defend it, coward--"

Damn, the fight scene would be awful-- I picture him warping in and just decking the kid, how heart wrenching. I'm sure Sonic would be stuck between, unsure what to do. I'm not sure how it ends?

Myabe they remove the emerald and he dies? or he becomes goop like Chaos? maybe a chao egg is left behind, which might hint at something bigger within Shadow himself??

Idea two, Birth:

Basically, Shadow's body evolves to grow an egg, maybe a normal Blackarm's thing that happens from time to time, maybe something to do with some Blackarms leftover idk, but point is he ends up hiding and pretending to be at GUN or on missions until finally Sonic tries to track him down and finds him laying in some forest, in labor. Technically this is Mpreg, but visually they look the same.

He reassures him, but Shadow can't understand why sonic isn't horrified.

"What do you want me to do, call you a freak and leave? I'm sure all mobians are freakish to humans, just like humans are freakish to mobians-- Hey, my little brother has two tails with a messed up joint that lets him fly! And your dad turned into a giant demonic root ball, even that comet was made of living goop all glued together, Shadow--laying an egg is the least of your worries!"

He jokes that he can have a melt down about the pregnancy being hidden later on, instead he'd rather focus on helping him. He has 3 small eggs but one begins to grow roots like the Blackarms and it takes over the other two, only making Shadow more distressed.

He wonders about taking it to the ARK, working with the commnader until they can determine that it's safe, but Sonic jokes, "You can try, but you know I won't let you take 'em, hehehe" But Shadow can feel the serious threat underlying. He doesn't want it to be treated like a monster either and wonders what the best course of action is.

"Do you really think humanity will accept this child if it looks anything like the Blackarms? If I looked any more like them?"

Story elements:

A lot of this story would be focused on Shadow's gradually rising tension as the egg grows, while sonic seems to be in a weird state of normalcy, but also struggling to actually comfort Shadow.

"Yknow, knuckles was born in an egg." "Sonic... we have no idea what's inside of this... I wasn't suppose to be fertile, let alone this! This sint a joke, sonic! What twisted creature could come from this-- what if this is just another facet of Doom's plan?! I already lost control of my mind, now I don't even have control over my body?!" Maybe Shadow and the commander already talked. He'd want to know why Shadow's suddenly requesting so much time off, only for the professor and Shadow to reveal everything. To their shock, the commander would support shadow... "Maria was like a sister to both of us... I think in her eyes... this might be my niece or nephew." The words make shadow tense, he wasn't prepared for this conversation, let alone the commander's unusual response. "You know I hate failing, Shadow-- Ive already failed her enough. I won't fail anymore. *Ahem* I expect a full report, given you've already met my grandchild..."

Remember, the commander offered shadow to come see his grandchildren in shadow the hedgehog (2004), so I'd like to think he's trying really hard to be better.

Really feeling this scheme

Guys can you help me with sonadow baby names

I have no idea what to say, but I want it to feel meaningful to Shadow, but maybe they have a real name and a "cool" name, like Sonic, Tails, y'know?

Might go with a girl? I just wanna make one to know what that looks like.

Thinking Navy. Maybe Ashen color. I think there'll start Ashen purple, later becoming darker, indigo-navy color, possibly stripes but idk, they would still have Blackarms DNA

[writing-whump]

Clueless caretaker

Dylan gets sick, the most serious Rip has seen him be. Emeto warning.

"Are you upset?" Rip said hesitantly. He was sitting in the armchair opposite the sofa where Dylan was sprawled on and felt weirdly like before a recieving a judgement.

Dylan sighed, hanging his head back on the armrest. "Look, man, I'm not upset. It's just...you were so freaked out about becoming the Executioner in summer-"

"Apprentice. I would just work as his apprentice."

"And now you are all down with it? Excuse me, if I'm a little confused." Dylna curled up around his side, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

"It's just a job." Rip got up, fighting the urge to pace. "It's gonna give me direction and a place." He pulled out Isaiah's credit card from his pocket. "I can't be freeloading around for nothing forever." He already felt better agreeing, knowing these expanses, this apartment, the clothes on his back and food in the fridge would be his contribution too.

"You totally can. Watch me and learn," Dylan grumbled unhappily, closing his eyes.

"Dude, it's like 11 o'clock. Why are you so sleepy?" Rip said, eyeing the other wolf.

"Too many heavy decisions," Dylan said. Then he opened his eyes and forced up a grin at Rip's expression. "Jeez, it's not because of you, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," Rip said petulantly. "I'll fix you something to eat and then we could go to the underground gym together, yeah?"

Dylan turned his back to him, face to the sofa. "What, Isaiah is on vocation today?"

Rip didn't wait for assent, going to the kitchen island where he would have just as a good view of Dylan as in the living room. "They have some kind of pack event today. All three of them together. It's in Salzburg so it's gonna be a whole day trip."

"Look at how well informed you are. Assistant in full power."

"It's Executioner's Apprentice. And it's a pretty respected position, thank you." Rip rolled his eyes and began heating the milk for a improptu porridge. He already ate in the morning, but Dylan didn't and porridge with cocoa was his weak spot in-between all the shakes and meat.

"You sure you are not just doing it out of desperation? Why do you suddenly like Isaiah so much?"

Rip prepared the flour, eyes flickering towards Dylan. "It only took a few dozens of killing attempts, a few months of dedicated training and impossible patience and giving me a way out that doesn't involve the streets," he said jokingly.

"See? Desperation and inherit power disbalance."

"Power disbalance? You have been watching some weird Tiktaks again."

"TikTok. It's TikTok. And what do you mean I can't sound all high and educated? You try listening to my sister for a few minutes and you be spewing out new words too."

"Her talking always puts you to sleep," Rip objected.

"It worms its way into your subconsciousness," Dylan said, crossing his arms on his chest.

Rip shook his head, adding the flour to the boiling milk and big spoons of sugar. "You got some kind of beef with Isaiah I don't know of?"

"There is no beef, Jesus...." Dylan's voice trailed off into grunts, something about everyone being stolen away.

Rip stirred the porridge fondly. It wasn't like he could afford to get away with the same things as Dylan, but it was heartwarming to have someone so concerned about his wishes and wants.

When the porridge, butter and cocoa was ready, it wasn't hard to coax Dylan into relaxing and eating. Rip was about to call it a win, when Dylan's pace slowed down considerably and he wasn't even halfway done.

"What's wrong? Still too hot in the middle?" Rip asked, standing over Dylan's spot on the sofa.

Dylan stirred the porridge. "Nah, man, it's great. Really, thanks." As if to disapprove his words, he put the plate down on the table and curled back up on the sofa. His eyes were drooping.

"This is getting weird," Rip complained, looking him up and down.

"I'm feeling a little off, that's all," Dylan said, closing his eyes. "Go to the gym without me today."

"Did you play Xbox till 3 am again?"

"No, I didn't," Dylan stuck out his tongue at him. "Swear. Your sleep's too sensitive anyway, you hear the grass growing—how would I get away with a game?"

But Dylan was usually a ball of energy. Being sleepy this late in the day, no jumping, training or bouncing on his feet?

"I'm just gonna get a nap, 's all." Dylan hugged himself around the chest, knees tucked close. "Go, you are all needles to get out of the place."

That was true, but Rip wasn't about to admit it now that he got a hunch something was wrong.

Dylan sighed at Rip's undecision and grabbed his hand, pushing it against his forehead. "Here. See for yourself. Do I seem feverish to you?"

Rip's eyes narrowed as he tried to focus. "It's warm, but I don't really know when it's normal and when not. Do we have a thermometer?"

"Nope. Only that handgun thing that doesn't work. Mom promised to give me one of those real ones that work, but I forgot it at her place." The brown-haired boy wiggled his head against the cushion, eyes closing again, but he didn't look peaceful.

"I'm gonna ask Seline if- damn, they aren't home." Rip ran a hand through his hair. "Do you have a key to their place?"

"Can I have one?"

Rip threw out his hands. "How should I know?"

"We can get inside with the shadows."

"Yeah, I'm gonna be breaking into the Executioner's place, sure. No, thanks." Rip didn't know how he got into Isaiah's good graces, but he wasn't going to risk losing them. "What else is there that I can do?"

"Go to the pharmacy?" Dylan shrugged, then winced and added quickly: "Hey, that's not needed though, right? Plus, if I need something, I can get it, it's just a block away."

Rip turned away, painfully reminded that going to the pharmacy was beyond his limit of abilities. He could keep his cool around Isaiah's pack, even Hector and Arnie, so people he knew. Heck, he could probably manage around wolves pretty well now.

But around humans? That was still too risky and got his shadow going in an ugly way.

A pang of shame went through his ribs at the thought he couldn't even go and buy Dylan medicine if he needed it.

"Forget it, man, I just need to sleep it off."

...

Rip didn't end up going to the gym, instead working out on the trapeze stick that they installed together in the hallway.

He wanted to keep an eye on Dylan. The guy was so whiny for every single thing, and so loud and filling the room, that this quiet was setting off all the red lights in Rip's head.

Which was ridiculous. Were they on the streets, fever wouldn't even be something to speak about. Rip would opt to walk it off.

These city pups were so fragile, for real. His old self would have said that. Heck, his mind was still saying it.

So why was he so restless?

Attuned to all the little sounds of the apartment, cleaning up the floor and the dust for the seventh time...

So he could tell the exact moment when things started to get worse.

Dylan was groaning in his sleep. He was curling up on himself, so Rip covered him with a blanket. It was twisted in his grip and he was positively sweating, hair all matted and dark.

Rip crouched down next to him, wrecking his brain on what he knew about treating fevers and human kids.

Dylan groaned again, his eyes opening to slits. "Oh hey..."

"You are feeling worse, aren't you?" Rip said instead of a hello.

Dylan shrugged, corner of his Rip twitching. "Don't look so serious." He frowned, wrapping his hands around his stomach. "Damn, I'm freezing."

"It's warm here."

"For real, I bet I can see my breath."

Rip pushed his sweaty hair out of his forehead. "I think frying an egg on your cheek temp counts as fever. Tell me what to do."

Dylan looked at him dizzyly, like he needed time to process to question. Looking at him this close, Rip noticed the pallor of his skin, the shadows growing under his eyes like bruises.

"Maybe some water?" he croaked.

Rip nodded and almost jumped over the kitchen island in his hurry to get a glass of cool water.

Dylan climbed up into a seated position with difficulty, his hands shaking. Rip held the glass to his lips.

Halfway through Dylan coughed and gagged, the last mouthful of the water gurgling back up into the glass.

"Goddammit, sorry-"

"It's fine," Rip assured, bringing the glass away. "Nausous?"

Dylan grimaced. "Stomach hurts. The porridge's been sitting there like a ton of bricks."

"Is this from the fever or is the fever a symptom of a stomach flu? How does it work?"

Dylan let out a giggle that turned into a cough and another gag. He pressed his hand against his mouth, breathing deeply to fight off the nausea. "Don't know. It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"I guess not." Rip shook himself internally, getting to his feet. "This is nothing. You will sleep this off in half a day. Go back to sleep."

They were not going to be panicking over a fever. He knew how whiny and dramatic Dylan could be. Better not take him seriously.

Dylan didn't whine though. He just nodded, pulling the blanket up to his chin and curled back up on the pillow with a shiver.

Rip stayed at his side, braced on the armrest. This time when Dylan woke up, gagging and heaving, he was prepared with a trashcan.

"Here, here, here." Rip held the bucket under his chin as Dylan's body rolled with heaves. He burped several times, bringing up a mouthful of white chunks. There was a dark map of sweat on his shirt, front and back.

Dylan coughed, stomach spasming. He wiggled out of the blanket, throwing his feet over the rim. "Need to- should go-"

Rip slid to the seat next to him. "Where should you go? Hey, trashcan is right here."

"Gonna make a mess- you don't like-"

"Sheesh, forget about that. I got you covered." Rip's voice softened. "You don't need to get up for this."

Dylan looked at him with a deeply set frown of confusion then nodded. There were exactly three seconds of peace before Dylan's body jerked forward and he was coughing up more creamy vomit.

Rip pulled the trashcan into Dylan's lap to catch the most of it, but some dribbled down his chin and down on his shirt.

Dylan was positively glowing with heat, all red in the cheeks, from the fever or the strain, Rip wasn't sure.

Rip rubbed his back as Dylan burped emptily over the trashcan, eyes all watery and glistening.

Dylan fell right back down onto the pillow. Rip fetched him another shirt and manhandled his limp form into a fresh one. The sick wolf was still shivering, although he was sweating like he got from a pouring rain.

Rip did the reasonable thing and tried to call. Isaiah first, then Seline. His phone and then Dylan's in case they didn't want to take his calls.

But no one was picking up. Jeez, did they not have signals at wolf meets or what?

He was pacing around the living room. Going through the cabinets didn't reveal any medications aside some lollipops for strep throat and aloe vera spray.

Why was it such a problem to go fucking shopping?

Of course it was a problem. Rip had money of his own since like last week. And he couldn't go somewhere with people, his shadow would freak out...

"Rip..."

The voice got his attention at once and Rip hurried to crouch by Dylan's side. "Yeah? I'm right here."

"My hands are burning..."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Rip grabbed for Dylan's hands under the blanket, turning it palm up to examine it. "It's not burning, it's okay-"

Then he noticed it. Red little bumps on the inside of his hands, like a rash, starting on his palms and continuing up to his elbwos.

"What are those things?" Dylan sounded more distressed and alert than when he was throwing up, voice going all choked up.

"Ehhh those...I'm sure it's nothing, D. I'm gonna look it up, okay?"

Dylan looked so close to tears Rip hesitated to get up. He reached for Dylan's phone instead and then climbed onto the sofa so he could hold Dylan in his lap.

"They say some infections and high fevers can cause hives..."

Dylan pressed his head against Rip's middle, clutching his hands to his chest. "I don't want them-"

"Shhhhh. They will go away on their own as the fever goes down. You got some nasty little virus that's all."

Dylan's lips were trembling. "They itch. Make them go away."

Rip sighed, experimentally touching Dylan's forehead. God, he was really burning up. He let his fingers linger, petting his hair. "It's gonna be okay, D. Relax. This is nothing."

"They are so ugly," Dylan whined, burying his face deeper into Rip's stomach.

Rip almost burst into a hysterical laugh. "Man, that's truly the least of our problems."

Dylan sobbed quietly, and Rip winced, wrapping his hands around the other boy and pulling him close. "Shhhhh. They are not, they are not. Hey. Stop that."

Dylan groaned, then looked up at Rip with wet lashes. "Isn't it disgusting?"

Rip screwed up his face. He had seen many many ugly and disgusting things, infected wounds, horrible burns, heck, the bitemarks lining up his own arms and neck...he was genuinely too desynthesized.

"No, I swear it's not, D. You couldn't be disgusting if you tried." He leaned over Dylan, combing his hair back. "See? Wouldn't be touching you if you were disgusting, right?"

Dylan watched him so intensively Rip worried a little he would burst a vein in his eye. Finally, he nodded and snuggled—snuggled!—closer. "Okay."

[blubushie]

Update on little man while I'm waiting for him to be done in the bathroom:

He's 7.

He's apparently really fucking good at poker.

He was riding his bike after dark when the rain came in and he was scared of being "hit by lightning" (it's not storming outside, just pissing down) and he saw the light on in Tilly so figured I was a safe bet.

Ginger. I am now adopting him as my red-headed stepchild.

He likes graham crackers. He's tolerable of scroggin but refuses to eat the sultanas. (Don't worry I made sure he wasn't allergic to nuts before I even offered.)

He's great at maths but terrible with spelling. His mum thinks he needs a tutor.

"Cowboys are cool!" Hell yeah, little man. We were watching rodeo wrecks before he had to go wee.

It's currently 10:30pm. He has Thanksgiving week off. His parents don't know he went out to ride his bike. He was with his friends but was on his way home when it started raining so he tried taking a shortcut and now he doesn't know where the fuck he is.

He likes fizzy. God I hope his parents let him drink fizzy.

He's really proud of a scar he got on his elbow. He says he can't remember how he got it (thinks it's from learning to ride his bike) but that he thinks it looks cool. I told him chicks dig scars and he said girls are gross.

...Except for his big sister, who he thinks is the ant's pants.

Speaking of big sister, he doesn't know his dad's number but he knows hers. She was very exasperated to hear he got out. She is coming to get him as we speak.

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Note: You guys can consider this to be a serious version of Flames in the West story. I'm not sure when this will fall into schedule, probably when one of my main stories is finished. It also depends how much you guys like this one.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: Unplanned post, but since is a Lannister day on my blog: enjoy. 🙂

The Kingswood hums with the sounds of the royal hunt, a symphony of rustling leaves, hounds baying, and the occasional barked order from the hunters. The scent of pine and damp earth mingles with the sweet aroma of roasted meats from the sprawling encampment. It is a grand affair, organized to celebrate Prince Aegon's second nameday. Tents of crimson and black flutter in the breeze, and courtiers buzz with laughter and gossip like a swarm of bees.

You walk side by side with your elder sister, Rhaenyra. The sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on her face as she strides gracefully, her expression a mixture of bemusement and mild irritation.

"Another one," she mutters under her breath, nodding discreetly toward a young lord across the way who is staring at her as though she hung the moon. "They follow me like vultures circling a carcass. It’s maddening."

You stifle a laugh, your hand brushing her arm as you offer a teasing smile. "Surely, sister, you cannot blame them. The Realm’s Delight is a prize worth vying for, is she not?"

She rolls her eyes but can’t hide the faint smirk tugging at her lips. "A prize I have no desire to grant. Honestly, Y/N, you’re fortunate. No one looks to you with such hunger in their eyes. The heir’s crown serves as both lure and snare."

You shrug nonchalantly. "Perhaps I simply lack your allure. Or perhaps they fear I’d set them ablaze before entertaining their overtures."

Rhaenyra chuckles, her earlier irritation melting away. "Yes, I can picture it. Lord Wylde reduced to ash before he could finish his ridiculous sonnet. What a sight that would be."

"Wylde's sonnet was tame compared to Lord Tyrell’s attempt at a serenade," you retort, voice dripping with mock horror. "That poor man cannot carry a tune to save his life."

The two of you dissolve into laughter, the kind shared only between sisters. It feels like old times, before the weight of titles and expectations pressed down upon your shoulders.

But then, from the corner of your eye, you catch sight of Jason Lannister. He strides through the camp, every bit the lion, dressed in rich red and gold with his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. His piercing gaze sweeps the clearing until it lands squarely on Rhaenyra. A confident smile spreads across his face as he changes course, heading directly toward her.

Your heart skips—not from interest but from mischief. Leaning closer to Rhaenyra, you murmur, "I believe the proud lion is about to leap. Good luck, dear sister."

Rhaenyra glances toward Jason, her brows lifting in resigned amusement. "Y/N, don’t you dare leave me—"

But you’re already retreating, your grin widening as you wave her off. "You’re the Realm’s Delight, Rhaenyra. Surely, you can handle one arrogant lion."

Rhaenyra’s glare burns into your back as Jason approaches her, his stride full of confidence. You chuckle softly to yourself, quickening your steps toward where Ser Gwayne Hightower is practicing his archery. The rhythmic thud of arrows hitting the target fills the air as you approach.

Ser Gwayne lowers his bow when he sees you, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Come to show me up, have you?"

You pick up a bow from the nearby rack, testing its weight. "Perhaps. Someone needs to ensure you don’t grow too proud, Ser Gwayne."

He chuckles, stepping aside to give you space. "Very well, princess. Let’s see if your aim is as sharp as your wit."

Nocking an arrow, you draw the bowstring back, feeling the satisfying tension. You release, the arrow flying straight and true, embedding itself near the center of the target. Gwayne whistles appreciatively.

"You’ve been practicing," he says, clearly impressed.

"Idle hands are the devil’s playthings," you reply lightly, nocking another arrow. "And I’ve no desire to become rusty."

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, trading shots and quips. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Jason Lannister speaks animatedly to Rhaenyra. His body language exudes confidence, but even from this distance, you can see the tight set of Rhaenyra’s jaw.

"Poor Lord Jason," Gwayne remarks, following your gaze. "He’s about to learn that the princess’s tongue is sharper than any blade."

You smirk, releasing another arrow. "If he were foolish enough to direct his attentions toward me, he’d leave with his pride in tatters."

Gwayne snickers. "And likely a new nickname for his troubles."

The two of you share a conspiratorial laugh, pausing to observe the exchange between Rhaenyra and Jason. It’s a masterclass in polite rejection. Rhaenyra’s words are measured, her tone as sweet as honey, but the subtle steel beneath them leaves no room for misinterpretation. Jason’s confident smile falters, replaced by a flicker of confusion and embarrassment.

"She has a gift," Gwayne says, shaking his head in admiration. "The lion won’t be roaring anytime soon."

You lower your bow, resting it against the ground as you watch Jason retreat with his tail between his legs. A wave of pride swells in your chest—not for his failure, but for Rhaenyra’s poise and strength. She glances in your direction, catching your eye, and you flash her a knowing grin.

Rhaenyra shakes her head, her lips twitching in reluctant amusement before she turns back toward the camp, leaving Jason to lick his wounds.

"Come," you say to Gwayne, shouldering your bow. "I believe we’ve lingered here long enough. There’s a feast to attend, and I wouldn’t miss the chance to see the lion humbled among the other lords."

Gwayne grins, falling into step beside you. "Lead the way, princess. Lead the way."

Jason Lannister stormed through the camp, his boots crunching against the dry pine needles scattered across the forest floor. His usual confident stride was replaced with something more forceful, his frustration evident in the tension of his shoulders. A passing servant barely avoided being bowled over as Jason muttered a curt apology, his mind too preoccupied to care.

When he finally reached the Lannister encampment, he spotted the familiar figure of his twin brother, Tyland, seated on a richly upholstered chair beneath their family’s crimson-and-gold banner. Tyland held a goblet in one hand, the other idly flipping through a letter sealed with the sigil of House Hightower. Unlike Jason’s hunt-worn attire, Tyland looked pristine, dressed in a doublet of fine wool with a thin gold chain marking his position on King Viserys’s small council.

Tyland glanced up as Jason approached, immediately noting the sour look on his brother’s face. His lips curled into an amused smirk. “Ah, there you are. Back so soon? I thought you’d be off charming the princess until sundown.”

Jason grunted, throwing himself into a nearby chair. He reached for the wine pitcher without waiting for an invitation, pouring himself a generous amount. “It didn’t go as planned.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Didn’t go as planned?” he echoed. “Care to elaborate, or shall I guess?”

Jason took a long gulp of wine before setting the goblet down with more force than necessary. “She rejected me,” he said bluntly, though the admission clearly stung his pride. “Barely let me finish before she made it abundantly clear she had no interest in me, or Casterly Rock, or any of it.”

Tyland’s laughter was immediate and unrestrained. “Of course she did,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you honestly expect anything else? Rhaenyra Targaryen isn’t exactly known for her warmth toward unsolicited marriage proposals.”

Jason glared at him. “I thought she’d at least consider it. Casterly Rock is the wealthiest seat in the realm, and I’m—”

“—And you’re Jason Lannister,” Tyland interrupted, still grinning. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before. But wealth and a golden mane only get you so far with a woman like Rhaenyra. You should be grateful you walked away with your pride still intact.”

Jason snorted. “Intact? Hardly. She dismissed me as if I were some… some common hedge knight. I’ve never been humiliated like that in my life.”

Tyland leaned back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. “Humiliated, perhaps. But consider yourself lucky her younger sister wasn’t there to witness it. She’d have had you on your knees, begging for mercy, and not in the way you’d prefer.”

Jason frowned, his frustration momentarily giving way to curiosity. “Her sister?” he repeated. “Y/N? What does she have to do with this?”

Tyland smirks, clearly enjoying this. "Yes, Y/N. Sweet as honey to those she likes but sharp as Valyrian steel to those she doesn’t. If you think Rhaenyra's rejection stung, imagine Y/N standing there, her silver tongue slicing you apart for all to see. That girl could cut you down with words alone and still make you thank her for the privilege."

Jason frowns, clearly intrigued despite himself. "I’ve heard of her, but she’s always so… quiet. Reserved. She doesn’t draw attention the way Rhaenyra does."

"That’s because she doesn’t need to," Tyland counters. "Y/N has an elegance about her that speaks for itself. And she’s clever—far too clever for the likes of you. If she had been there, she might have taken pity on you and spared you some embarrassment… or she might have joined her sister in putting you in your place."

Jason leans against the table, his expression thoughtful now. "You seem to know her well."

Tyland shrugs, a casual gesture that belies his keen interest. "I live in the capital, remember? I’ve had plenty of opportunities to observe the royal family. Y/N is a force to be reckoned with, even if she doesn’t flaunt it like her sister. Quiet strength can be far more dangerous than loud defiance."

Jason falls silent, his earlier frustration giving way to a strange sense of curiosity. He swirls the remaining wine in his goblet, his gaze distant. "She sounds… intriguing."

Tyland snorts, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. "Don’t get any ideas, Jason. If you couldn’t handle Rhaenyra, you’d stand no chance with her sister. Y/N would chew you up and spit you out before you even knew what hit you."

Jason’s lips twitch into a faint smile, the first hint of humor he’s shown since his defeat. "Perhaps. But I’ve always enjoyed a challenge."

Tyland shakes his head, laughing softly. "Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when you find yourself at the mercy of her sharp tongue. I won’t be offering any sympathy."

Jason raises his goblet in a mock toast, his confidence slowly returning. "We’ll see, Tyland. We’ll see."

And as the sun dips lower in the sky, Jason can’t help but wonder if his brother’s words hold some truth. Perhaps he had been barking up the wrong tree with Rhaenyra. Perhaps the younger sister, with her quiet strength and sharp wit, is a far more interesting quarry.

The next two days unfold in a haze of royal festivity and anticipation for the grand hunt. The sprawling camp is alive with the sounds of nobles exchanging pleasantries, servants bustling about their duties, and hounds barking eagerly as they prepare for the event. The chatter of excited courtiers fills the air as word spreads that the trackers have caught sight of a rare and noble beast—a white stag, a creature of myth and legend, said to be a symbol of divine favor.

Jason Lannister moves through the camp with his usual air of lion-like confidence, but behind the facade, his attention is sharply attuned to a singular presence. He is too shrewd to make his interest known, especially in a camp teeming with gossip-hungry lords and ladies. Instead, he watches her—you—from the corners of his eyes, his gaze lingering longer than it should but never openly.

The first time he notices you, you are seated near your sister, Rhaenyra, under the shade of a large oak tree. A circle of ladies surrounds the two of you, their laughter ringing out as they trade jests and gossip. You are quieter than the others, a soft smile playing on your lips as you listen. But when you speak, it is with precision, your words measured and thoughtful. Jason can’t hear what you’re saying from his position by the wine tent, but he sees the way Rhaenyra throws her head back with a laugh, the way the ladies lean in closer, eager to catch every word.

He notes the contrast between you and your elder sister. Where Rhaenyra’s beauty is fiery and commanding, yours is softer, like moonlight. You lack her overt confidence, but there is a quiet strength in the way you carry yourself, in the way your eyes—so strikingly silver in the sunlight—observe the world around you with keen intelligence.

"You're staring," Tyland's voice cuts into his thoughts, low and amused.

Jason doesn’t flinch, though the accusation is true. Instead, he takes a sip from his goblet and turns his gaze to the horizon, feigning disinterest. "Just observing the royal family. It’s an important skill for any lord."

Tyland snorts softly, not fooled in the least. "If you say so. But remember what I said: tread carefully. That one could cut you down with a glance if she wanted to."

Jason merely hums, his expression unreadable.

The second time he sees you, it is near the practice field. The younger knights and squires are sparring under the watchful eyes of Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Criston Cole. You are seated on the edge of the field, your skirts tucked neatly under you as you watch the bouts unfold. Gwayne Hightower stands beside you, his bow in hand, and the two of you appear to be engaged in an animated conversation.

Jason watches from a distance, leaning casually against a post, his arms crossed. He tells himself it is mere coincidence that he is here at all, that he simply enjoys watching the sparring matches. But his gaze keeps drifting toward you, drawn by the way your face lights up when you laugh at something Gwayne says or the way your head tilts thoughtfully when you respond.

"Your aim is improving," you remark, your voice carrying over the clatter of wooden swords.

Gwayne grins, clearly pleased. "I’ve had an excellent teacher."

You roll your eyes, though your smile softens the gesture. "Don’t let it go to your head, Ser Gwayne."

Jason smirks faintly at the exchange. Gwayne Hightower, ever the charmer. Still, Jason notes the ease with which you speak to the knight, the natural camaraderie that seems to flow between you. He finds himself wondering what it might be like to stand where Gwayne does, to earn your laughter and your trust.

On the third morning, as the trackers return with news of the white stag’s sighting, Jason spots you walking along the edge of the camp. You are alone for once, a rare sight, your hands clasped behind your back as you stroll through the dappled sunlight. You stop occasionally to inspect a wildflower or to watch the birds flitting through the trees, your expression serene.

Jason lingers near a group of lords discussing the hunt, his posture casual as he watches you from the corner of his eye. There is something almost ethereal about you in this moment, the way the sunlight catches in your silver hair and the way your gown sways gently with your steps. You seem utterly removed from the noise and chaos of the camp, lost in a world of your own.

"Lord Lannister," one of the lords says, drawing his attention back to the conversation. "What are your thoughts on the white stag? Do you think it will grant its favor to the king?"

Jason forces a polite smile, his mind still half-focused on you. "The stag is a rare and noble beast. If it truly is the king’s favor we seek, we’ll need more than luck to claim it."

The lords murmur their agreement, and the conversation moves on. But Jason’s thoughts linger on you, wondering what it is that draws him so strongly. You are no shy maiden, despite your quiet demeanor. There is a fire in you, a sharpness hidden beneath the surface, and Jason finds himself both intrigued and cautious.

As you disappear from view, Jason allows himself a small smile. He may not approach you yet, but the hunt is only beginning—and he is nothing if not a patient man.

The royal pavilion is a grand affair, its interior rich with opulence. Thick tapestries embroidered with the Targaryen sigil hang from gilded supports, while plush cushions and carved chairs surround a low table laden with wine and fruit. King Viserys lounges at the center of the gathering, his expression warm and genial as he speaks with his advisors. The air is filled with laughter and the low hum of conversation, a brief reprieve from the bustling chaos of the camp outside.

Jason Lannister steps inside with practiced ease, his crimson-and-gold attire catching the flicker of sunlight that filters through the pavilion’s open sides. He offers a polite bow to the king, who acknowledges him with a wave of his hand. Jason’s green eyes scan the room with purpose until they land on you.

You are seated beside your father, a picture of poise and grace, your gown the color of soft lavender, the fabric shimmering faintly in the light. Your hair is elegantly arranged, and though you sit quietly, your violet eyes miss nothing as they flick between the speakers in the circle. Jason’s lips curl into a faint smile.

He approaches, weaving his way through the gathered nobles. Otto Hightower and Lyonel Strong are deep in discussion, their tones measured and serious. Jason, however, has only one target in mind.

"Lord Jason Lannister," King Viserys greets him with a wide smile, gesturing for him to join the circle. "What brings you here? Surely you’re not seeking Rhaenyra. She’s off riding, I believe."

Jason chuckles, offering a respectful bow before taking a seat across from you. "Your Grace, while the princess is, of course, a delight, it is not her company I seek at this moment." His eyes flick briefly to you before he adds smoothly, "I was hoping to enjoy the company of this esteemed circle—and perhaps learn more of the Targaryen way of thinking."

Viserys laughs, clearly pleased by the flattery. "You’ve chosen a good time, then. There’s plenty of wisdom to be found here."

You raise an eyebrow, meeting Jason’s gaze for the first time. There’s a flicker of amusement in your expression, though your tone is polite when you speak. "And what wisdom do you seek, my lord? Surely the Lord of Casterly Rock does not lack for advisers."

Jason leans back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "True, but wisdom comes in many forms. And who better to learn from than those who carry the blood of dragons?"

The remark is calculated—just enough praise to intrigue without seeming obsequious. But you aren’t so easily swayed.

"Flattery is a poor substitute for genuine insight," you reply smoothly. "Do you have a specific question, or is this merely an exercise in rhetoric?"

A low chuckle ripples through the circle at your retort, and Jason’s smile deepens. "Sharp as Valyrian steel," he remarks, his tone light but edged with challenge. "I see the rumors of your wit are not exaggerated."

"I didn’t realize I was the subject of rumors," you say, tilting your head slightly. "Should I be flattered or concerned, Lord Lannister?"

"Flattered, I’d hope," Jason replies, his tone almost playful now. "Though I’ll admit, the reality far surpasses the tales."

You smirk faintly, leaning forward just enough to meet his gaze directly. "Careful, my lord. If your tongue grows any sweeter, you might choke on it."

The circle erupts in laughter, including King Viserys, who shakes his head with a chuckle. Jason takes the barb in stride, his own amusement evident. "A fair warning, my lady," he concedes. "But I find sharp tongues far more interesting than dull ones."

The verbal sparring continues, your exchanges quick and clever, each testing the other’s wit. Though your words are pointed, Jason finds himself enjoying the clash, his earlier frustrations with Rhaenyra fading into irrelevance. You are different—more elusive, more challenging. And though you clearly find him exasperating, he can’t help but admire the fire in your words.

Finally, you grow bored of the game. Rising gracefully, you offer a small curtsy to the king and the circle. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve had enough of this wisdom for now."

Before you leave, you glance back at Jason, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Do try not to choke further on your words, my lord. It would be such a waste."

Jason can’t help but grin as you sweep out of the pavilion, leaving a ripple of confusion in your wake. He hesitates only a moment before rising to follow, offering a quick bow to the king.

As the flap of the pavilion closes behind him, King Viserys furrows his brow, glancing at Otto and Lyonel. "What just happened?"

Otto shakes his head, clearly at a loss. Lyonel, however, chuckles softly, a knowing gleam in his eye. "I believe, Your Grace, we’ve just witnessed the beginnings of a most interesting… acquaintance."

The camp buzzes with activity as the hunting parties prepare to set out for the day. Lords don their finest riding cloaks and sharpen their weapons, eager for a chance to prove themselves in the shadow of royalty. Amidst the controlled chaos, Jason Lannister moves with unusual purpose. His hunting gear is immaculate—gold-trimmed leathers and a crimson cloak embroidered with the proud lion of his house. His bow and quiver are slung over his back, and his boots crunch over the pine needles with confidence as he strides to join the assembled lords.

There is a fire in his step, a sharpness to his movements that hasn’t gone unnoticed. A small group of nobles, already gathered near the edge of the camp, exchange curious glances as Jason approaches. Lord Tarly, a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and a no-nonsense demeanor, leans slightly toward Lord Redwyne, his voice low but audible enough to carry.

"Well, that’s unexpected," Tarly mutters. "I thought we’d see a lion licking his wounds today."

Jason catches the remark as he joins the group, his golden eyes sharp and bright with amusement. He adjusts the strap of his quiver and offers a half-smile. "And why would that be, Lord Tarly? Do you doubt the resilience of Casterly Rock’s finest?"

Tarly shrugs, his expression as blunt as his tone. "Not doubt, my lord, just surprised. Word travels fast in a camp like this. I’d have thought Princess Rhaenyra’s rejection would’ve… dampened your spirits."

A ripple of polite but tense silence follows. Redwyne shifts uncomfortably, as though expecting an outburst. But Jason surprises them all with a hearty laugh, rich and unapologetic.

"My spirits?" Jason says, his voice light but carrying an edge of steel. "Forgive me, my lords, but I hardly find myself distraught over it. Rhaenyra Targaryen is a remarkable woman, no doubt, but Casterly Rock has seen enough proud lions to survive without her grace blessing its halls."

The honesty of his words catches the group off guard. Redwyne arches a brow, while Tarly folds his arms across his chest, his curiosity piqued.

"So, you’re saying you don’t care?" Tarly presses, his tone skeptical. "You made your offer, and she turned it down. Just like that?"

Jason’s smile doesn’t falter. Instead, he steps closer to his horse, running a gloved hand over its sleek mane as he speaks. "Let me be clear, Lord Tarly. I offered Rhaenyra the chance to stand beside me at Casterly Rock because it seemed… appropriate. A lion and a dragon—what better match? But I won’t beg for anyone’s hand, no matter how highborn. If she doesn’t want it, that’s her choice."

He swings himself into the saddle with effortless grace, his posture regal as he looks down at the gathered lords. "There’s no dishonor in a woman knowing her own mind. I respect her decision, even if it wasn’t the answer I expected. And if I’m being honest…"

Jason pauses, his gaze briefly distant, as though considering his next words carefully. Then his smile returns, sharper this time, and unmistakably genuine.

"…I’ve come to realize that perhaps my attention was misplaced from the start."

The lords exchange puzzled looks, the weight of Jason’s words hanging in the air like an unsolved riddle. Redwyne, ever the diplomat, clears his throat and offers a conciliatory nod.

"Well said, Lord Jason. And what of today’s hunt? Do you aim to claim the white stag yourself?"

Jason chuckles, taking up the reins of his horse. "Perhaps, though I care little for the stag’s favor. Today, my aim is to prove that a lion’s pride lies in its strength, not in the approval of others."

With that, he spurs his horse forward, leading the group toward the hunting grounds. The lords follow, their expressions ranging from confusion to admiration. Jason rides ahead, his thoughts not on Rhaenyra or even the stag but on you—your sharp wit, your violet eyes, and the challenge you present.

He doesn’t understand why he feels this pull toward you, but the hunt, it seems, is far from over.

The forest was filled with the crisp sounds of rustling leaves and the occasional call of a distant stag. Your hunting party moved in a tight formation through the Kingswood, banners bearing the Targaryen dragon trailing behind. Mounted on a sleek mare, you led the group with quiet authority, your sharp eyes scanning the trees for signs of prey. The air was thick with anxiety, the hounds sniffing eagerly at the ground as your trackers scouted ahead.

A crackle of underbrush to your left drew your attention, and moments later, a second hunting party emerged from the thicket. At their head was none other than Jason Lannister, sitting astride a magnificent golden courser. His crimson-and-gold cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, and his confident smirk was firmly in place as his eyes locked on you.

"Well, well," Jason called, reining in his horse as his party slowed to a halt. "If it isn’t the princess herself, gracing the forest with her presence. Tell me, Your Highness, have you come to steal my kill? Or are you here merely to admire my skill?"

Your lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile forming as you met his gaze. "Lord Lannister, your delusions of grandeur are almost as persistent as an outbreak of greyscale. Difficult to rid oneself of and twice as irritating."

A few chuckles rippled through your party, and Jason’s grin only widened. "Greyscale, is it? And here I thought I was merely an affliction of the heart, not the skin."

"You flatter yourself," you replied, arching a brow. "No doubt you’ve convinced some poor fool of that before, but you’ll find me immune to such charms."

The lords and knights from both parties shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension beneath the playful banter. Lord Tarly, who had accompanied Jason, cleared his throat. "Shall we proceed, my lord? The trackers reported the stag heading east."

"And risk missing this delightful conversation?" Jason said, still smiling as he leaned forward slightly in his saddle. "I think not. Besides, it seems we’re headed in the same direction. I would hate for us to cross paths again in less… harmonious circumstances."

Your eyes narrowed slightly, catching the subtle challenge in his tone. "Are you suggesting we combine forces, Lord Lannister? Or are you simply trying to ensure you’re not humiliated when my party claims the stag first?"

Jason’s courser shifted beneath him, and he steadied it with practiced ease. "Humiliated? Hardly. But I’m not so proud as to ignore the merits of cooperation. Why not join our parties? We’ll share the hunt—and the glory."

Your party exchanged surprised glances, the tension easing slightly as they waited for your response. You studied Jason carefully, noting the faint twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He was testing you, as always, but there was an unexpected sincerity beneath his words.

"Very well," you said at last, your tone measured. "But if the stag escapes because of your cooperation, Lord Lannister, you’ll find yourself regretting it."

Jason laughed, a rich, unrestrained sound that echoed through the forest. "A bold claim, Princess. But I welcome the challenge."

With that, the two parties merged, the lords and knights falling into formation as the hunt resumed. The trackers moved ahead, their voices low as they followed the stag’s trail. Jason rode beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, ever watchful.

"You’re surprisingly agreeable today," you remarked after a moment, glancing at him. "Should I be suspicious?"

Jason smirked, inclining his head slightly. "Perhaps I’m simply enjoying your company, Your Highness. Though I’ll admit, it’s not often I encounter someone who can match me word for word."

"Match you?" you repeated, your tone light but cutting. "I’d say I surpass you, my lord. But I suppose it’s commendable that you’re willing to admit defeat so graciously."

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "I’m beginning to see why the dragon’s fire burns so brightly. It’s not the beast itself but the mind behind it."

You didn’t respond, though your lips curved into a faint smile as you urged your mare forward, leaving Jason trailing just behind. The lords and knights exchanged bemused looks, still trying to decipher the nature of the exchange between the two of you.

As the merged party moved deeper into the woods, the anticipation of the hunt took hold once more. But for Jason, the thrill wasn’t just in the chase—it was in the game you and he played with every word, every glance. And as the sun filtered through the trees, painting the forest floor in golden light, he found himself hoping the hunt would last just a little longer.

The forest had grown still as the merged hunting party pressed deeper into the Kingswood. The faint scent of earth and moss mingled with the crisp tang of the morning air, and every sound—each snap of a branch, each rustle of leaves—seemed amplified in the quiet. The hounds moved low to the ground, their ears pricked and noses working furiously as the trackers led the party toward the prize. Excitement rippled through the group; they were close.

Jason rode beside you, his golden courser nearly brushing against your mare. He leaned slightly toward you, his expression one of practiced confidence, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"When we catch up to the stag," he began, his voice low enough not to carry to the rest of the group, "you should let me take the killing blow."

You turned your head slowly, raising an unimpressed brow. "And why, pray tell, should I?"

"Because," Jason said, with the tone of someone explaining something simple to a child, "I am far more experienced in matters of the hunt than a young princess. You may have grace and charm, Your Highness, but it takes a steady hand and a practiced eye to fell a beast as noble as this."

You scoffed, sitting straighter in the saddle as you regarded him with an icy glare. "Far more experienced, are you? I accompanied my father on hunts as soon as I could ride. By the time I was ten, I could track a stag through mud and fire an arrow true from a moving horse. I’d wager I have more kills than you’ll ever claim in your entire life, Lord Lannister."

The surrounding lords, who had been listening with barely concealed interest, exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, a nervous young man whose name you hadn’t bothered to learn, cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Perhaps… we should keep our voices down," he said hesitantly. "The noise may scare the game away."

Jason turned his attention to the young lord, fixing him with a piercing gaze that was both amused and condescending. "Scaring the game away? My lord, you misunderstand. This is not an argument." He gestured between himself and you. "This is… a spirited exchange of ideas."

The young lord swallowed, clearly regretting his decision to speak. You rolled your eyes, gripping your reins tighter as you nudged your mare forward.

"Spirited exchange, indeed," you muttered under your breath.

The party rounded a small bend, and there it was—a magnificent stag, its coat chestnut as autumn leaves, standing regal and still in the clearing ahead. Its antlers, broad and intricate, caught the dappled sunlight streaming through the trees, making it appear almost otherworldly.

The group froze, each hunter carefully adjusting their position for the best shot. Jason’s hand moved to his bow, his movements deliberate as he spoke softly, still confident. "Stay back, Princess. I’ll handle this—"

But before he could even nock an arrow, you had already drawn yours. With a practiced ease that belied the tension in the air, you raised your bow, sighted your target, and released. The arrow flew true, slicing through the air with deadly precision and striking the stag directly in the eye.

The great beast staggered for a moment, its majestic frame wavering before collapsing silently to the ground. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the silence deafening as every pair of eyes turned to you.

Jason’s jaw tightened, though his expression was more astonished than angry. The lords, previously poised for action, stared in stunned silence, their weapons still at the ready but now unnecessary. Even the hounds, sensing the change in the air, hesitated, their excitement momentarily dulled.

Finally, you lowered your bow, exhaling slowly as you turned to face the group. "What was that you were saying about experience, Lord Lannister?" you asked, your voice calm but laced with triumph.

Jason blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for a retort. But for once, the ever-confident lion seemed at a loss for words.

"Well," one of the older lords finally said, breaking the silence with an awkward cough. "That was… most impressive, Your Highness."

"Indeed," Jason said at last, his voice steady but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. "Impressive. Though I’m certain you’ll forgive me if I say I’m not entirely surprised. The dragon’s flame burns bright, after all."

You inclined your head slightly, acknowledging the compliment, though the faint smirk tugging at your lips showed you knew exactly how much it pained him to say it.

Without another word, you dismounted and approached the stag, the hounds now circling eagerly as the trackers moved in to inspect the kill. The lords followed suit, their admiration evident as they murmured amongst themselves.

Jason remained where he was for a moment longer, watching you with an expression that was equal parts frustration and intrigue. As much as your success rankled him, he couldn’t help but admire the precision, the confidence, the fire that had made it possible.

And as the party began preparing to move the stag back to camp, he realized something else—this was a hunt he’d never forget, not because of the kill, but because of you.

[theoddest1]

funny how time bomb managed to have better dynamic and than the main ship

I'm happy for my Timebomb homies, they were some of the major winners here, if not THEE winners cause they got damn near everything along with a huge supply of content to work with.

CaitVi....man, this sure is something. Started off realitively strong only to dwindle the more their dynamic was shown on screen in season 2 thanks to what happened to Cait. Does she even apologize ONCE for what she did!? I don't think she has. Like, I'm glad that Vi called her out, but where was the real accountability!? Acknowledging is the first step. Where are the other parts of the stairs!?!? That was CRAZY. Also, look I get it, Vi can only drive herself to save her sister so much, but after seeing Jinx CLEARLY showing huge growth, she would NOT have fucking sex the moment her cop gf enters the cell, like bitch that is NOT fucking Vi. Why couldn't we just get a sex scene by the end of the war after time has passed!? WHY IN THE CELL JINX WAS JUST IN!?!?

Hell, JayVik was weird af too. Jayce gets pissed at Mel for investing in he and Viktor's success as if it wasn't for the betterment of the country. I won't sit here and act as though she is allowed to be dishonest, but the way she did things was nit with malicious intent. She even gave him pointers so that he wouldn't get an unneeded target on his back. Where did he even LEARN of this? Did I miss something? And yes, Jayce DOES acknowledge Viktor's new vision was of his own volition, but him choosing to stay with his brother who is MOST DEFINITELY IN THE WRONG over his GF who has done nothing but support him is INSANE.

And yes, I am calling him his brother cause that's literally what Jayce calls him back in S1. I view their dynamic with the same lens as Vander and Silco. Bro, both the twinks go rouge in hopes for a better future while the buffer men stay true to themselves while also going through huge trials that change them majorly, if that isn't a fucking parallel idk what is, BUT that is how I view it. I am leaning further into this, though, after how shitty some Jayvik fans have been to not only Meljay/GoldenForge but to Mel and Jayce separately as characters [especially Mel]. Like Jesus CHRIST, some of y'all are just straight-up racist and misogynistic, and I don't fling those terms around lightly. I don't mindle in fandom spaces often, but JayVik fans genuinely put a sour taste in my mouth.

So yeah, TimeBomb slapped in a good and productive way. Various ways. Ekko, Mel, and Jinx carried this season HARD. Honorable mentions being Sevika and Singed cause, tbh they stayed interesting a good portion of the time.

[coffin-ramblings]

In your opinion, what makes Andrew's interest in Ashley romantic rather than just sexual? Love your analyses and wanted your expert opinion, bc personally I'm kinda on the fence about it

I am very flattered that you like my analysts and consider me an expert! It is a great honor to be told that.

The first evidence Andrew is romantically in love with Ashley is this dialogue back in Episode 1. This was actually one of the big reasons why I did not check out Episode 2 for a long while because of how fucking weird Andrew is. I already knew he was weird and actually down bad for Ashley, but that moment really shows how deeply fucked up this guy is. What do you mean you think it's too romantic to commit suicide by jumping off the balcony with your sister? Even Ashley thinks he's weird there.

And then he explains that he thinks it's romantic because that'd mean their bodies would be be entangled together and have to be buried in the same coffin. Despite this, he likes that Ashley wants to join him, which wow, okay dude.

We now fast forward to chapter 2, where we get a lot more of incestuous hints from Andrew.

The first obvious one that you will always see is Andrew checking on Ashley because she's obviously in a bad mood having their burglary thwarted and having to talk with, cook for, and eat with their mother who abandoned them, likely sold them out, and wanted them dead. Ashley doesn't want to talk about it because this confirms her desire to sacrifice them and was hoping she didn't have to say it to Andrew, so she is also frustrated he's not picking that up either and being snappy. Andrew then thinks, "I want to hug her until she smiles", which okay, that's innocuous enough, but is then followed by, "I'm not going to do it, it's another thought that I wish I never had." What kind of thoughts do you have that makes you not want to hug your sister and comfort her Andrew? Isn't it a good thing you want to make her happy especially in this really shit day? And why are you blushing at that thought???

After that, you can have Andrew go talk with their mother and have this gem:

While it's easy to think Andrew thinking, "I don't want to grow fonder of Ashley because she's a bitch" if you see this the first time, notice that he starts blushing there. He very much does not want his romantic desires for Ashley intensified, nor does he ever want to be separated from her as we find out later on at the fireplace if you are on Burial route.

And before that, Andrew eats Ashley's mom-and-dad soup despite his obvious reluctance to and his outright refusal in Decay. He is only doing this to make Ashley happy, when the day before, he was holding back from just hugging her to cheer her up because of the fear that intimacy with Ashley will expose his feelings, which is why Ashley is surprised. That is, quite weirdly, a romantic gesture of Andrew.

And finally, no matter how you get Burial Sane, Andrew is still on better terms with her than before their parents died. Sure he's grumpy and aloof, but he still is happy to be with her and he doesn't start blaming her for their situation. This unnerves Ashley because she now realizes that he doesn't "need" her, but he's still hanging around for who knows how long and she can't guarantee he will stay.

It's easy to think that Andrew's feelings for Ashley is just sexual when the main focus has been Burial Questionable and the confirmation that they can have sex in Decay. Sane often gets neglected for being boring, "pointless", and Ashley being "out of character" for not teasing Andrew about the incest vision, but it is still a major route of the game and is worth analyzing. People often miss the main point of the game is that Andrew's and Ashley's (mostly) platonic relationship is already under a lot of strain due to their mutual distrust that the other will betray and/or leave them, Ashley being too stuck in the past in the most obvious form of being attached to Andy, and Andrew being cold to Ashley because he can't be honest with his affection for her. They have to rebuild their relationship as family and friends first before they can have a relatively healthy romantic relationship. Even after that obstacle, the fear of being rejected for their incestuous feelings is very real and valid when they're also family, and if the other leaves them for that or stops being on good terms with them, they are completely alone and/or heartbroken because they have no one left to love them and for them to love back.

This is why Andrew represses his romantic desire for Ashley, and Ashley can choose to stay platonic with him or tell Andrew that they will not have sex. They are both aware this really is not normal, they are most likely going to be rejected because it's abnormal, and they are afraid of what will happen after rejection. They value each other so much that they will be happy to give up their own desires if it means that they can still have each other around. That is also quite romantic, and needless to say, a very common experience for people who have trouble with confessing or never confessed their feelings to the people they love.

If Andrew merely had sexual feelings for Ashley, he can just keep dating and having sex with other women that look like her and move on. Even though Ashley doesn't like it and resents him for that, at least they still have a relationship, which is better than none at all for Andrew. It is much more difficult for Andrew when he is romantically in love with her, and he actively has to hide it away from her in hopes she won't reject him. He tried to make the best of dating Julia to try to get rid of his romantic and sexual feelings for Ashley, but even that is not enough. As seen in the Voicemails video, he needs to imagine Julia's Ashley to say romantic declarations of love to her, but that makes him sad.

On a more meta level, and one a lot of fans forget, is that TCOAAL is a psychological horror game. It is so much more revolting and well, horrifying that Andrew has romantic feelings for Ashley. My revulsion at Andrew was so strong that I stayed away from the game for months, planning to wait until Episode 3 because I want Julia to show up so I can root for her because neither sibling was sympathetic enough for me. If it was just Andrew being very sexually touchy with Ashley, I and many others would have thought he is sexually abusive or he only sees Ashley as a sex doll, and thus find it easier to root for Ashley and hope she leaves him or retaliates against him. But it is way more fascinating and accurate to a codependency that there is no clear abuser-and-victim or good guy and bad guy dynamic, that the siblings are mutually horrible to each other, but also mutually in love and lust for each other. Nemlei makes their romance an integral part of the game's horror, which is a masterful display of her skill as a creator to blend two seemingly opposite feelings into one work of art.