#if anyone else has finished the second season and wants to discuss it

[jojo-schmo]

I am a different person now than I was before finishing Good Omens 2

[tobitofunction]

The Pact of Fire and Ice Part 2

part 1 part 3 part4 part 5 part 6 part 7

"My Lady it might be too hot-","I like it hot, thank you," you said cutting off the maid as you stepped into the bath, "You have beautiful hair my lady, it glistens like snow when hit by light," she said while grabbing a sponge,"Thank you" you smiled at her relaxing in the hot water as the maids cleaned your body.

Cregan was back in his studies when Sarah knocked on the door and walked in before Cregan could say come in,"How was it?" she said eagerly," She liked the Godswood but found the Crypt of Winterfell creepy" he said making Sarah scoff,"Wow, how romantic taking your fiancé to place where your ancestors are buried, your lucky your decent looking as if you weren't she would have taken her dragon back to Kingslanding" Cregan scoffed and rolled his eyes,"Might have preferred that making Sarah lift a brow,"Oh?!" she said,"Why so?","I had two wives already both dead within years of me marrying them, I'm cursed sister and that girl will suffer the consequences, I shouldn't have agreed to this marriage" he said pinching the bridge of his nose, making Sarah roll his eyes,"You aren't cursed dummy, you're a Stark, start acting like it" she said punching his shoulder,"You just assaulted the Lord of Winterfell, you know that can lead to your loosing your hand" Cregan playfully threatened,"Well the Lord of Winterfell is acting like a baby" Cregan shook his head with a laugh,"Do you think I made the right decision?" Sarah nodded,"Yes brother, I truly believe you do. I had a dream once it was off a large wolf, a dire wolf in the woods walking towards a smaller white wolf, they had pups, some in the colour of the father and some in the colour of the mother" she said making Cregan smile softly,"Well let's hope your dream comes true" he said stroking her cheek,"Is she kind to you?","From the small interactions we had, yes she was"," Good, as you be joining us for dinner" he said before leaving the room.

You were sitting in your room staring into the fire when the door opened,"Lord Stark sends another dress" Jace said,"I didn't know you became a maid" you teased as he rolled his eyes," I took it off her, I wanted to talk more in private. Now let put the dress on you" you took the dress and walked behind a wall and took of the robe you wore,"So what do you want to discuss?", "Mother won't be able to make it the wedding," he said, you stopped for a second before stepping into the dress, "As I expected, we are at war after all" you said,"Help me lace it up" you said stepping from behind the wall, "Still, I know you wanted her to be here" he said pulling at the laces,"You can show disappointment, it's not a foreign feeling for you" he smiled placing his hand on your waist after he finished lacing you up," Mother promised to have a great wedding fest for you once the war is one" Jace smiled,"Lord Stark has a great taste in dresses," Jace said as he looked you up and down, it was another red dress, with a deep neckline and long-flowy sleeves. There was delicate embroidery of frosty white on the bodice and edges of the sleeves, and the fabric was so fine that it almost shimmered in the light,"It was probably his late wives again" you muttered,"Those dresses must mean a lot to him but he gives them away so easily, why is that?","Maybe because you can bring new life into them" Jace shrugged,"Let's get dinner sister".

Cregan was sitting in the dining hall with Sarah at his side when you and Jace walked in. Cregan licked his lips seeing you in the dress,"You look stunning my Princess" he said as you sat down beside him,"Thank you, is it another one of your late wives' dresses?","I made it for her so she could wear it after she gave birth during summer, as it's her favourite season. I'm glad it found itself another wearer, my second wife didn't like feminine dresses but I'm glad you're wearing it, I can't imagine anyone else for it, it suits you well, like it was made for you" Cregan said, he wasn't lying when he said it. Arra was a beautiful woman who loved wearing the prettiest gowns Winterfell could offer so he gladly commissioned a dress for her which he thought she would look stunning in but seeing you in it now, he can't imagine Arra in it. The red suited your skin tone making you glow, embroidery of the dress matched the shine of your silver hair perfectly. Your cheeks darkened at the comment, "Thank you, my Lord, I love it, I never saw such a beautiful dress before not even in Westeros","I'm glad to hear that. Let's start dining" he said as servants began filling the table with different types of food,"Everything you see here Princess as freshly hunted between yesterday and today before your arrival" Cregan said with a hint of proudness,"I can taste that my Lord" you said sipping on the wine, unlike the food the wine wasn't as tasty as in Westeros but you didn't say anything but Cregan seemed to notice the change in your face,"The wine might not be great as in King's landing but I say we make up with the food", you smiled,"But I assume storing wine is easy here? We should bring wine from home to keep here" you said but Jace nudged you in her ribs, "What?", "Winterfell is now your home sister, but when you visit you are free to take as much wine as you desire" he said, you licked your lips, quickly remembering why you were and that once you married Jace be off leaving you alone, in a new so-called home completely different from the place where you grew up. Sarah smiled sadly at your realisation, she could feel the sadness inside of you,"Cregan don't you want to introduce Princess y/n to your dire wolf?" you lifted your head,"A dire wolf?" you said making Sarah nod happily,"She's a big dark brown wolf, Cregan bonded with her around the same time he became Lord of Winterfell" Sarah continued happily,"Is the Dire wolf to you what our dragon's are to us?" you asked Cregan directly,"Yes, my dire wolf and I have a special bond she will and has protected me during vital moments just like I know your dragon would" he said,"I would love to met her than" Cregan stayed quite for a moment before nodding.

Cregan led you back outside,"Her name is Winter, she came to in the winter of my father's death. She doesn't like the inside of the Castle so she stays in the Wolfwoods or even the Godswoods" he said stepping into the woods, he took one of his gloves off before placing to of his finger in his mouth and whistled, you waited for a couple of minutes before a dark mass came from in between the snow-covered leaves. She was a big, you only heard stories about Dire wolves and their massive sizes but seeing one now in person blew away your explantations, she was as big like 3 or 4 dogs combined, her fur was thick and spotted with snow, her eyes looked intelligent which reminded you of your dragon Tyraxes. Winter slowly moved towards Cregan who kneeled a little bit to be more on her level,"Hello my girl" he said softly rubbing her neck, his hand disappearing in her fur,"This is Princess Y/N, my future wife" he said before turning to,"Come" he said, you moved to she-wolf slowly, cautions as you didn't know how she could react your presence. Cregan gently took your hand and placed on her fur, it was soft which surprised you, even with the thickness of her fur could feel the beating of the wolves heart, you smiled,"She's beautiful"," Winter, seems to like you, she usually takes a while to warm up to people" he said looking up at you from his crouched position, which gave the opportunity to look directly into his eyes making you see his grey eyes, grey like a storm but a beautiful storm, It's only fair to introduce you to my dragon now". Cregan tensed,"Are you sure? A dragon and a wolf are different", you chuckled,"I thought so to but seeing the two of you together made me realise that we are one and the same, like you said Winter will protect you from danger but she was fine with me, so I can the same about Tyraxes" you grabbed his hand, it was so large compared to you, rough and warm, thoughts entered your head which made your cheeks darken so you quickly let go of his hand,"Let's go"

Tyraxes shook the snow off her and she let out a growl,"She doesn't like cold, we need to find a place for her to live, where she be comfortable" you said patting her neck. You noticed the lack of replay and turned to see him far away from you, staring at the beast in front of him, who had noticed him as well, "This is Cregan, we are set to be married, we be staying here forever" you said leaning your forehead against her neck, feeling her warmth. You then turned around and held out your hand for Cregan, he slowly walked over to you not taking his eyes off Tyraxes, you placed his hand on her neck,"He's not going to hurt us, he's safe" you said. Cregan sighed and smiled softly, feeling the hot rough leathery skin underneath his palm, it was such a unique feeling that he couldn't describe, he looked into Tryaxe's eyes, like you noticed with Winter Cregan noticed the intelligence in her eyes,"She seems to like you" you smiled,"That's good, we both seemed to be liked by the others bonded animal" he said slowly removing his hand from Tyraxe's,"Maybe one day I can take you out on a flight"

Days went by, you were doing some stitching in your room when Sarah walked in,"Sorry for disturbing but I came with some news....my brother..Lord Stark wants to have the wedding soon, as he riding soon to Kings landing" you nodded and put aside your work and patted the place next to you,"Why did you call Cregan by Lord and not brother?","I'm a bastard Princess, I'm not a true-born Stark so I need to reframe myself and remember my place" you gently took her hand and gave it a squeeze,"bastard or not you share blood which makes siblings, you probably heard about the rumours about me and my brothers. I won't let that reframe me from getting what belongs to me or my brother. Call Cregab brother around me, he seems to care for you a lot" Sarah smiled at you,"Going back to the wedding, it be in the tradition of the old gods. I be talking you through it, as it is a bit different than the ones you are used too, but also Cregan has set up a meeting between you and one of the most talented seamstresses in Winterfell" Sarah smiled.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the dress was truly beautiful a long white gown with lace dragon motives decorated all over it, long bell-sleeved with a fur lining. A black cape which had your house symbol embroidered all over it, you took a deep breath and dried your sweaty hands on your dress,"Don't be nervous, you know your Husband now, it's not a privilege a lot of women have" Jace said appearing at the door," Baela, has that privilege and she has the privilege of being close to her home and family, you be gone after this and I be alone, a dragon alone between wolves" Jace sighed and walked towards you, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him,"You are always welcome in Dragonstone, dragons are resilient and if our ancestors can adapt from their life in Old Valyria to a life in Westeros, so can you sister" he kissed you cheek,"You already to show the markings of a great king already" you smiled leaning your forehead against his,"Let's go".

Cregan was waiting by the Godswood in front of heart tree, Cregan looked around and saw his sister and the heads of the biggest houses in the north, all holding torches lighting up the way for his bride and her brother. Cregan then looked beside him and saw his closest friend Lord Cerwyn, as Cregan's father was dead he asked his friend to officiate the wedding. Cerwyn patted Cregan on the shoulder and nodded towards you and Jace making Cregan take a breath, you looked stunning, like a nymph he would hear in stories when he was young.

Jace continued to led you the heart tree before stopping to gave your hand a squeeze and hand you over Crewyn. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" he asked,"Y/N, of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" Jace said folding his hands behind his back, Cregan then stepped closer,"Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Who gives her?" you took a breath, not really enjoying this, you felt like an object, but it had to be done,"Jacaery's, of the House Targaryen, her older brother and heir to the Iron Throne" Cerwyn looked between the two men before focusing back on you, he gave your hand a squeeze noticing your wandering mind,"Princess Y/N Targaryen, will you take this man?" he asked, you looked at Cregan before looking at Jace who gave you a nod,"I take this man" you said softly, Cerwyn than placed your hand into Cregan who led you towards the heart tree before kneeling before it, he closed his eyes and began to mumble, he was praying. You licked your lips before closing your eyes. After a while you felt your hand being squeezed Cregan was looking at you, a soft smile playing on his lip which just needed to be reciprocated. Both of you stood up and Sarah walked over with a cloak in her arms, it was light grey and had the Stark symbol embroidered on it, Sarah handed it to her brother who let go of your hand to take the cloak from her, her than unclasped your cloak, carefully removing it from your shoulder before handing it to Sarah, he than replaced it with Stark cloak, it felt heavier. As Cregan finished clipping on your cloak he pressed a kiss on your forehead,"My Wife, I will protect and honour as long as I shall life" he said making you shiver,"I shall do same...my husband" you said looking up at him

Taglist:

@happinessinthebeing

[ca-suffit]

As anyone ever talked about the showrunners decisions to choose biracial actors for season 1 to play black characters?

I have never seen people talk about it,but i don't really follow this fandom. I know in America they don't make the difference, a biracial, the one drop rule makes them all black,i'm black from Europe with African heritage, we do make the difference between black and biracial. So it was very interesting to me to always see the fandom,the press,the actors to characterize them as just black.

Don't take me wrong i know that we come in all shades,and phenotype but there probably a deliberate choice in casting light skinned biracial actors ?

The reason is clear and i can't blame them for that given the first response to their casting before the production

But i also want to read other people opinions about that,if anyone has interesting articles, threads and discussions about that please share?

Of course we can disagree,that the beauty of exchanging between adults.

I haven't finished reading it yet but I find this blog very interesting, thank you

Hello! and ohhhh boy this is gonna be a topic.

So...I'll say what I'm aware of and ofc anyone else can reblog and reply or inbox reply if u wanna be anon to respond to this.

First, and this is kind of an aside to ur main point but I just wanted to include this tho, biracial ppl in America are treated like shit. I remember Bailey Bass in...maybe one of the show podcasts? talking about how she never felt she was black until she was on the show set. On the surface, it might appear as if America is accepting and ppl are only seen as one identity, but the reality of navigating anything day to day as a biracial person is v complicated and shitty. I have gotten a lot of rly gross asks over time (which I didn't publish) about Jacob's friendship with Sam, along with his wife being white too, and it's all implied to judge him more bcuz he's biracial in the first place.

Second, Hollywood has a major colorism issue (bcuz America does). I don't know of any articles written about this for IWTV itself (I tried searching for general tumblr posts I remember seeing. I can't find the ones I wanted but I did find this about Ayo Edebiri) but I know it's been talked about in certain ways around here over time. The actor who played Jonah in S1, Thomas Antony Olajide, was considered for the role of Louis and fan reactions would have prbly been worse if he'd been cast. When Delainey replaced Bailey, a lot of negative reactions arose bcuz of colorism.

That's all I can remember rn. I don't think it's been talked about a lot tbh bcuz this fandom is so racist as it is that this would mostly...not go over well. But since this account exists now as it does, maybe ppl would be more willing to discuss it.

But generally the main reason is bcuz Hollywood barely wants to rly cast anyone but white ppl as it is, so we're still in v early days and yet the backlash that occurs every time is so extreme anyway.

[skratchytheclown]

Broodal Collaboration Idea:

It has been a while since the Koopaling collab, so I decided to announce my ideas for the Broodal collab (@thekoopalingsandstuffs helped discuss the idea a bit).

Unlike the Koopaling collab, this challenge will have each artist draw all four Broodals (due to the fact that there aren't that many Broodals). To make up for this, the challenge will allow for more artistic flexibility. Here is how it will go:

One artist volunteers to start. The first thing they do is choose a theme. This theme can be anything they want, although it shouldn't be too broad. (Example: instead of choosing a theme like "seasons" choose something like "summer". It will be more interesting if it were more specific.)

After choosing a theme, the first artist will draw the Broodals with this theme in mind. You can do whatever you want with them as long as it fits the theme. (Example: Let's assume the first artist chose "Summer" for their theme. This means they would have to draw summer-themed Broodals. They could draw them in swimsuits, make them wear an ice cream vendor uniform, turn them into a mermaid, cover them in sand, anything as long as it fits the theme.)

Once the first artist (finally) finishes their drawing, they post it and tag someone else (just like the Koopaling collab). It would be best if you made sure someone is willing to participate before tagging them (or we may hit a dead end of sorts). Make sure you include your theme in the post!

After that, the tagged artist draws their drawing. Just like the previous artist, they draw all four Broodals with the same theme. Though, other than the theme being the same, you can do whatever you want with the drawing (Example: If the first artist made Hariet a mermaid, you don't have to also make Hariet a mermaid. You just have to make a design that fits the theme, which would be "Summer" in this case. Maybe you can make all the Broodals wear shark costumes. I don't know, it doesn't matter what you do as long as you work with the theme [as stated many times before] Also, just to clarify, the theme doesn't have to be "Summer". It can be whatever you want [if you are the first artist].)

Once the second artist finishes their drawing, they then reblog the first artist's drawing, add their own drawing to it, and tag someone else to continue the chain. This is also like the Koopaling collab.

I only discussed this with one other person, so I am not sure if the community as a whole would want to do this, so please make a comment if you want to participate (just say "me" or something simple like that if you are interested [I am interested by default, in case you were wondering]). If you want to be the first artist that starts the collab and choosed the theme, then specify that in the comments.

I will tag some blogs so that they may be informed about the idea:

@maggie4thewin @hopusthebrainlessfloof @splatoondetective

@unknownkoopalingsblog @aron-q

If there is anyone else who may want to participate, feel free to tag them in the comments, reblog this and tag them, send an ask, etc.

(One more thing, send me an ask if you would like me to change the rules for any reason. I'll get back to you relatively soon, and might change the rules accordingly. Though this offer will end if the challenge actually gets in motion.)

[fyrewalks]

meta: bob + broken glasses

one.

bob is ten the first time someone breaks his glasses. it happens two weeks after his bubbe returns home to new jersey; two weeks since his mom has been out of bed or off the couch longer than a few hours. nearly three months since his dad's latest deployment and six since his older sister, stevie, died.

it happens on the playground, easy to assume it's some childish skirmish over a swing set - bob's shy even then, made worse by his grief, and prefers to stick to the outskirts and swings during outdoor play at day-camp. (summer day-camp instead of montana, instead of his mom accepting the good natured teasing about her being a city girl or the not so quiet arguments between his grandma and dad about who will take the floyd ranch someday.) none of the counselors hear the taunts. bob doesn't repeat them. the kids accuse him of being different; he assumes they're saying it because of his dead sister. (he won't realize the kind of different they mean for a few years.)

he hides his broken glasses in the back of one of his drawers. his mom doesn't notice, his dad's calls home are too infrequent, gracie's six and easy to distract. it's not till a few weeks of meal trains and hushed discussions about his mom and doctor's appointments among the aunties who come over to watch them that anyone notices he's supposed to be wearing them at all.

two.

the second time it happens, bob is a few months shy of fifteen, all awkward limbs and little self-confidence. it's his second cross-country meet and he doesn't want to be there. the floyds are back in virginia - after three different middle schools, there's only a few vaguely familiar faces here and none of them are on the team. it leaves bob feeling more out of place.

he came out as summer ended on a friday night, a rare shabbat dinner that's just gracie and their parents instead of the eclectic mix of friends from their synagogue and whoever on base that wants, or needs, a place to be on a friday night. his mom cries, though she tries not too, while it's his dad whose the first to hug him and reassure bob he's loved no matter what. he knows his parents talk about it later, that they confide in each other their fears about his future, but they brave his confession with watery smiles and the promise everything will be okay.

he doesn't come out at school. it's less a definitive choice and more that he doesn't need to. other kids simply just know. bob isn't sure what gives him away - if it's his slouchy posture, his voice, or something else entirely. most leave it alone, but there are taunts and curses in between classes; he's shoved into a locker, once. bob doesn't like it, but considers it tame. he's bounced between montana, virginia, and florida his entire life, usually living in the shadows of navy bases. he isn't ignorant. (new jersey, at least, only carries the weight of his dead sister.)

it's tame until it's not. until his second cross-country meet. bob's in the middle stretch, pace decent enough to keep up with some of the older kids, and he's actually starting to enjoy himself. and then there's a hand on his back and he's crashing to the ground, literally tasting dirt. bile rises in his throat as he watches his glasses get stomped on deliberately, he can't unhear the accompanying slur.

he makes it to the finish line with a limp, mud on his face, and broken glasses. when his mom fusses over him later, bob blames it on being clumsy. no sense in making her worry; he doesn't like it when she cries.

three.

bob's sixteen with a long summer of open blue sky awaiting him. he skips dinner with his grandma up at the big house in favor of the bunk house with the ranch hands hired for the season. someone hands him a beer with a wink and a sly 'don't tell your grandma'; it doesn't taste great, but after a day of fixing fences, he likes that it's ice cold. he likes that he belongs, he likes that he can imagine his dad at this age too - it's the first time he feels like a man.

most of the ranch hands know him, they've seen him grow up in bits in pieces. they finish dinner and bob's content to listen to the way conversation flows and settles around him until they drag him into it too. does he like school, what's florida like, how are his folks and sister back home. then - you kissing any girls, yet?

bob answers honestly, he hasn't kissed anyone. at first, he doesn't mind the laughter, but it turns bitter in the mouth of one of the new ranch hands. there's something ugly in his eyes.

a chair scrapes back and adrenaline blurs it all together. there's shouting and fists and someone pulling him out of the way. trying to retreat, bob catches an elbow in the face and his glasses end up under someone's boot.

the unmistakable sound of his grandma's shotgun ends the skirmish. his grandma stays behind to deal with the mess while an older ranch hand gets him fixed up in the big house. later, when bob still can't sleep, his grandma sits on the edge of his bed with a sigh. it's too dark to read her expression. she tells him that his dad will take it better coming from him rather than her and that if he wants to drink in her house, he better never get drunk or stupid; he can't throw a punch worth a damn.

four.

he's eighteen, and his mom won't stop crying. there shouldn't be tears, not with bob's new diploma and a mit acceptance letter pinned proudly to the fridge. at least, there shouldn't be so many tears; it is a bittersweet occasion, an unavoidable reminder of the dead sister forever frozen at fourteen.

grief isn't the reason for the tears, though. no, the real reason is the neat stack of paperwork tucked safely in bob's desk committing him to the nrotc and eight years of navy service after. it's a choice he refuses to budge on and it leads to a few tense weeks in the floyd household.

he knows somethings wrong the minute he walks in the kitchen two weeks after graduation, both parents seated at the small table, clearly waiting for him. gracie isn't home; she's got regionals coming up, they should be with her at practice. (bob's long since taken the backseat to her gymnastic aspirations and he's mostly been okay with her hogging their parents attention; he just hates that it's their focus on him that causes alarm bells to go off.)

it starts off simple enough - reminders of his parents sacrifices. his dad doing his best to ensure his children wouldn't be forced to choose between the life sentence of a ranch or the navy. his mom, happy with the life she chose, but still always wondering about the life she might have had if she hadn't dropped out of college to marry and raise children. it's the reason they both pushed so hard for academics and sports and extracurriculars. then, it's the pricey flight lessons touted as more of a financial burden then it really is for the floyds. if he wants to fly, isn't that enough for him?

bob might not get the whole picture, but his maternal grandparents paid for his truck. all cash. between all three grandparents, he knows his parents haven't hurt for much (so long as their pride hasn't stood in the way).

but god dammit, what about his own sacrifices? what about bob, ten and anxious and terrified, begging his mom to get out of bed? what about bob, stuck in the routine of waking up gracie and making sure she has breakfast and lunch even after his mom escapes the fog of depression? or his childhood? one marked by four elementary schools, three middle schools, and two high schools. no one should be surprised that he chose the navy when his dad's service defined his early life.

why is his choice to join the navy and fly any different than gracie's devotion to gymnastics? it's the same risk. gracie could break her neck too.

or, what about plain want? clear blue sky - bob saw so much of it on the ground, he wanted the 30,000 ft views too.

but these thoughts are kinder than the words actually said. bob drags up every awful detail of his mom's depression, how his dad's grief and ill timed deployment felt like neglect. it doesn't matter if his points about chores and helping with gracie were valid after that. the damage is done on his side.

there's more yelling and tears and then the final blow - his dad shouting that bob's gay and it makes him weak, the navy will chew him up and spit it him out. but his dad's temper runs fast and quick, it ends with a too quiet 'fine, if the navy's your choice, you got a day to get out of the house.' they won't burry another child.

bob, the ever dutiful son, listens. on the flight to montana, cramped in a back row, he looks at his glasses held loosely in his fist and thinks it might hurt less if they were broken.

four, five, or six?

three months after his parents kick him out, he goes from montana to boston. he starts at mit and he finds, surprisingly, with some encouragement from new friends that beer and whiskey and cigarettes make him braver than he's ever been.

and the thing is, he's got his dad's same quick temper; it's just he's never had much use for it, always too quiet and too shy to find anywhere to put it. but a crowded bar? a guy being a jerk and not listening? sure, that's as good a place as any.

turns out, his grandma is right - bob still doesn't know how to throw a punch. sometimes, he remembers how he got the bruises, crooked frames, and scratched lenses. sometimes, he doesn't. either way, bob tells himself he's got it under control. except - he misses classes, he can't wait tables hung over, and no one is exactly impressed with him at the nrotc.

in the end, it's a combination of things that get bob to quit drinking his second year of college. (although, he still occasionally sneaks cigarettes when stressed.) gracie crying, a few letters from his parents. more than a few genuine apologies. a concerned commanding officer, citing his dad's respectful career record and how bob won't measure up like this. a patient rabbi and a better group friends than his first roommate, the one who dragged bob out partying his first night in boston. trading bars and beers for the library, more classes to average out his abysmal gpa.

it changes somethings, a relationship with his parents that sometimes feels like walking on ice, deciding to focus on weapon systems than outright piloting, but not everything. bob recommits to his faith, goes back to pretending things don't bother him, and decides life's a lot easier when people think he's just some nerdy stick in the mud than someone who can't handle his liquor.

[lylaseb]

My mom just finished watching episode 18 of season 3 earlier and I’m very satisfied with the result and with our discussion. When I asked her if she would revive erwin or armin she didn’t even hesitate and said Erwin. Thank the heavens. Because if she had said armin, I would’ve had to question myself and then subsequently my life again. I already went through so much of that the first time I watched the series and while I’m not completely averse to second guessing myself I’m also not really looking forward to doing it all over again because it is so exhausting.

I’ve already made several posts about this before but I honestly cannot relate to people who swear by Levi’s decision. Can I understand it, yes, most definitely, but I have never felt and will never feel the same way. There was that one time when hange said something like Erwin only ever made one mistake in his life and that was making her the next commander, my immediate thought was the one mistake erwin made was entrusting Levi with the injection. No doubt erwin isn’t perfect and as a human being he’s made many mistakes in his life for sure, but I’m specifically referring to what hange said. If I had to think of just one major thing that he did wrong, it wouldn’t be making hange commander or anything else. The injection was his biggest mistake. And by the way hange is a great commander, and I’d take her over armin any time any place. Heck I’d take jean as commander over armin any time any place.

This has become redundant but the first time I watched the series I kept myself hopeful. I wanted to be proven wrong so badly. Maybe armin was the right choice after all, maybe there was no right choice, maybe it would become the right choice eventually, maybe maybe maybe. I held onto that hope all the way to the end. Unfortunately I now know for certain that I’m never going to get over Erwin’s death. I’m not going to go so far as to say armin becoming the next commander after hange didn’t hold any weight, but said weight was really next to nothing. Virtually nonexistent. Completely negligible. If anyone Jean should’ve been the next in line and this is the hill I will die on.

Do I hate armin? Just for the record, no. Absolutely not. I’ve said this time and time again but he was my favorite character during the first half of season 1 and I still liked him even after finishing the series. Do I find him becoming the next commander completely unacceptable? Also no. He probably would’ve never been as effective of a commander as erwin, or hange, or pyxis, or even jean, but he definitely would’ve done his best and I believe eventually he would’ve done a decent job. My problem is really more with the process and not as much the result. How did we get to him being handed the seat? Largely through Erwin’s and hange’s deaths. Frankly their deaths were so senseless I don’t think I’ll ever recover. And the whole erwin/armin parallel drawn from time to time? Imo that was the worst thing about this. Armin is not erwin, and vice versa. Stop this stupid propaganda. Did I not feel sorry for armin? Of course I did. It wasn’t his fault his friends were being stupid, nor was it his fault that Levi made the wrong decision. It was a crappy situation to say the least and he didn’t deserve to go through any of that. When he nearly threw up after hearing about what had happened, I felt sorry for him. When floch was going on and on and on right in front of him about how erwin should’ve been saved instead, I felt sorry for him. When he was going through his breakdowns dealing with mikasa and the rumbling, I felt sorry for him. Armin had to go through so much crap because of plot armor and he deserved better. But this still doesn’t change the fact that erwin was the right choice.

[suolakissa-old]

My thoughts about a particular scene in Heartstopper season 2

Content warning: This post discusses elements of sexual assault and abuse both in Heartstopper and my personal experiences. There are also light spoilers from season 2.

So I may or may not have immediately binged the entirely of Heartstopper's season 2 today as it came out. (Pun intended.) I fact I may have binged it 1,5 times, since a friend of mine was only halfway when I finished the last episode and I went back to the start of episode 5 and watched the second half again as we furiously texted each other back and forth.

Overall I adored this season. There were a lot of things that were in my opinion handled a lot better in the TV series than in the original comics – the most poignant being how they handled the fact that Tao was the one responsible for Charlie getting outed before the events of season 1 – and there were some things that I found lacking (mostly how they handled Isaac's character).

But one scene really stuck to me, and that was the scene between Ben and Charlie in episode 7, "Sorry".

Ben has been texting Charlie non-stop asking to talk with him, and he finally tracks him down outside the art exhibition in Lambert Art School. Ben wants to apologise for the way he was treating Charlie when they were in a "relationship" (HEAVY quotation marks there), claiming he is a messed up person and his parents wouldn't accept him being gay and he knows he treated Charlie like shit, but he still liked him and thought he was a good thing in his life.

Charlie's reply is what really hit me way harder than I was expecting to.

"Do you remember the first time you kissed me? You didn't even ask. You didn't pause to wonder whether it was what I wanted, and I went along with it because I had a crush, and I didn't know any better. I didn't realise that you had all the control. When I eventually did realise, I thought, 'this must be what I deserve'. Someone taking whatever he wants from me whenever he wants. Treating me like I'm nothing for the rest of the time. And now whenever anything good happens in my life, there's a little voice in the back of my head telling me I'm worthless and that I don't deserve it. And now you want me to forgive you so you can feel better about yourself? I'm glad you realise what you did was wrong, but you don't get to ambush me into forgiving you. 'Sorry' doesn't make up for everything you did to me. I really hope you become a better person so you don't hurt anyone else. But I don't want to be there to see it happen. I don't want to see you ever again."

I just want to say thank you to Alice Oseman for writing this scene, because it gave me words for something that happened to me when I was a teenager.

I was sexually taken advantage of by a person who I had a burning crush for and who basically used me as a tool for his own pleasure. Someone who knew exactly how I felt about him and who could pull my strings to do exactly what he wanted. He could have asked me anything and I would have said yes because I felt I didn't have anything else. He didn't technically do anything against my will and sometimes I even initiated things, but he certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about going through with them despite him being perfectly aware of just how messed up the power balance between us was. And after I managed to end things with him, almost immediately after that there was someone who I thought I was starting to form a connection with and who eventually confessed he just wanted something physical with me.

I felt exactly the way that Charlie did in that moment. That I am just something that people can take their pleasure from and to hell with my feelings. Not even a human being, just some tool to be used and discarded.

It's been ten years and I have had one relationship since it happened. One. And I am definitely not aromantic since I have definitely had intense crushes on people, nor am I entirely asexual since there's definitely been times I've wanted to do stuff – though I am pretty sure I do exist somewhere on the asexual spectrum since it's definitely not as strong or frequent as I understand allos experience. That is how much those experiences fucked me up, and (as messed up as that is) I still consider myself "lucky" since technically nothing happened against my will or anything. I just didn't realise that I had a true choice back then, or that I shouldn't even have been responsible for making that choice. There is still that little voice in my head telling me that I don't deserve a happy relationship. (Though I have also since realised that there is a lot more to happiness that romance, but that's a topic for entirely another post.)

Anyway... As much as seeing that scene in episode 7 hurt, it was also strangely cathartic in a way. And it was just a beautiful scene in general. So I guess the point of this ramble was to just say thank you, Alice Oseman. Thank you once again for giving the queers something beautiful and painfully relatable.

[blogger360ncislarules]

On a brief break from filming season 4 of The Chosen, creator Dallas Jenkins agreed to a Zoom call with Deadline to discuss his new berth on The CW and the success of his series about the life of Jesus. He’s dressed the part: Jenkins is wearing a T-shirt that reads My Rabbi Walks on Water, one of several items that he’s now peddling through the show’s merch website.

Like he really needs the money from selling Chosen-inspired coffee cups and hoodies. What began as a crowdsourcing project on the Angel Studios app has turned into a global hit with over 110 million viewers in 175 countries, with plans to make The Chosen available in 600 languages. The series has generated 6.5 million followers across social media, made $35 million at box office in special-event theatrical releases and has spawned best-selling books, DVDs, graphic novels, and yes — walking on water tees.

In June, The CW followed Peacock, Netflix, Roku and BYUtv by picking up the first three seasons of the drama that stars Jonathan Roumie as the King of Kings. (After any theatrical release, the Angel Studios app and The Chosen app still have global exclusive rights in the first window for all existing and future seasons). The second season finale airs Oct. 27 on The CW, and the season 3 finale will on Christmas Eve.

DEADLINE Do you have a favorite statistic that you like to quote when speaking about the success of The Chosen?

DALLAS JENKINS I really do try to avoid caring about the stats because it can distract me from the work that I have to do. I [appreciate the] fact that the show is on The CW, that the show was in the top 10 on Amazon Prime, that the show is easy to watch on these platforms where you normally wouldn’t see a show like ours, and that there are so many people who are watching who aren’t traditional believers. Those are my favorite things. And when I saw The Chosen right next to Cocaine Bear on Amazon’s list, I think that was one of my most proud moments.

DEADLINE The Chosen can now be found on multiple platforms, including The CW. You’ve got that relatively new worldwide distribution deal with Lionsgate. Do you feel like an official member of Hollywood now?

JENKINS I don’t think I’ll ever feel like an official member of Hollywood, but it is great to partner with Hollywood companies on what they do best. There are some things we do that they can’t do, and there are some codes that we’ve cracked that haven’t necessarily been cracked before. We want to get into areas that we wouldn’t normally be able to go, service areas that Hollywood studios might not normally reach or audiences that they might not normally reach. When nitro meets glycerin, the best of both worlds combined! I love having my foot in both waters.

DEADLINE You got an interim agreement to film the fourth season. How were you able to achieve that?

JENKINS Like anyone else, you agree to the SAG terms that the AMPTP currently isn’t agreeing to. We had to do it. We had two weeks left of filming. We wanted to make sure that we could finish and we were happy to tell the world that we agreed to their terms. And when we were the only game in town, quite literally for a period of time, it increased our exposure and awareness around the world. As an independent it made it easier for us to come to this agreement with SAG.

DEADLINE What are your thoughts about the ongoing strike?

JENKINS I understand the struggle from both sides. I’m a creator, so obviously I understand the desire to be rewarded for your work when it’s more successful. I also understand the perspective of someone whose job it is to find financing for future seasons. It is an extraordinarily difficult time. Financing and income are not the same as they were five years ago, 10 years ago, 20 years ago. It is not as easy as it seems and we can see from our show — which is one of the most viewed shows in the world — it is still difficult to monetize. So there are parts of this dispute that I understand from both sides. I think it’s important that we try hard to put ourselves in the other’s shoes and to see if there’s a way that we can find a middle ground that benefits everybody.

DEADLINE Did I read correctly on a Wikipedia page that you got the epiphany for this series while mowing your lawn? Was that correct?

JENKINS It’s a little bit of a mix. When I was mowing the lawn, I got the idea to tell stories from my own experience and from my own faith, believing that would actually be more appealing to a wider audience, that I was trying too hard to kind of thread the needle. That’s what happened when I was mowing the lawn. The concept for the show came when I was making a short film for my church on my friend’s farm in Illinois. I was coming off of my biggest career failure, not knowing if I would ever make another project again. I was binge watching The Wire on HBO and I came up with the idea for the Jesus show. The Wire is a terrific show. It shows the sociopolitical dynamics, the people on the street, the people in the mayor’s office, the people in the police department. It’s similar to what happened in first century Galilee. There’s political, sociopolitical, religious divisions, and then there are people on the ground. The Chosen explores all of that, the relationships and the divisions. The Wire had a big influence.

DEADLINE Do you have a bible, so to speak, for the whole entire run of the show?

JENKINS Yes, we have a Bible, literally, for the show, but we also have a lowercase bible. We have plotted out the seven seasons. We’re not one of those shows that’s going to wander around. We’re going to last as long as the ratings are decent right now. If you are watching on The CW, as people are wrapping up season two heading into season three. They should know that when we started, we knew where we were going. We knew how this would end. We thinking the seventh season now. I just finished the writing season five because we know where the story goes and allows us the freedom to play within those boundaries. So yeah, we do have this plotted out, just not all of the scripts are written just yet.

DEADLINE When will the crucifixion occur?

JENKINS Season six and the resurrection will occur in season seven. Spoiler alert!

DEADLINE Do you have a writer’s room? Or are you it?

JENKINS There are two other writers. Three of us write every episode. We have a virtual and literal writer’s room that has served us well for these first four seasons and will not change over the next three.

DEADLINE With success comes the requisite criticism and how you have taken liberties with the story. How do you respond to that?

JENKINS We make no secret of the fact and are proud to say we are not the Bible. We are a TV show. Throughout Hollywood’s existence, there have been movies and television shows made about historical figures. There are some people who believe that Jesus and the disciples are the only ones who should never have a movie or TV show made about them. We disagree and so we are not begging people to watch it. If there are people who are uncomfortable with seeing anything that isn’t directly from scripture, we’re cool with that and you don’t have to watch the show. We do believe that what we are portraying, even when it’s not from scripture, is plausible historically and spiritually and culturally accurate. And so as long as we are not violating the character and intentions of Jesus and the gospels, we believe that we have freedom to explore what their lives would’ve been like. That has allowed people who aren’t traditional believers or who don’t read the Bible to appreciate these stories and perhaps want to know more.

DEADLINE Do you have a set list of dos and don’ts? Like, I won’t approach this the way, say, Mel Gibson would?

JENKINS Well, we certainly don’t want to do anything that contradicts the messenger themes of the Bible, but otherwise we don’t really have a lot of rules. We don’t show a white King James version of a speaking Jesus. We don’t want this to feel formal or presented. We’re obsessed with trying to be as authentic as possible, as human as possible. I do think that because of previous Jesus stories, particularly The Passion of the Christ or even some of the ones that aren’t very good or are very boring, the existence of these does give us a certain freedom to break out. When we get to the crucifixion, I don’t have to make it a bloodbath because Mel did it better than I ever could. If I just showed the faces of the disciples watching the crucifixion, that will be emotionally and spiritually devastating. Because Mel already did it, I believe I have more tools at my disposal than Mel did because I’ll have done multiple seasons of this. I’m not trying to compete with anybody else.

DEADLINE You don’t have a lot of competition in this space. There’s not a lot of people like you making this content. Does that mean the bar is low when it comes to appealing to the viewers?

JENKINS I think that we sometimes do benefit from the fact that there is not a lot of content out there that speaks to people of faith. Maybe we get some bonus points for that. That said, we have seen over and over again that audiences that don’t traditionally consider this type of entertainment are moved and loving the show as a historical drama. So you are not required to be a Christian to watch this show. It allows us to stand out even in these arenas that are outside of the faith space. When you’re on Amazon, Peacock, Netflix, and The CW and there’s nothing else like it, people will go, ‘oh, this is different. This is unique.’ I want art to have diversity. So I think that that does help us.

DEADLINE The reaction by some people to your Lionsgate deal was interesting. One person even said that you pulled a Judas. Do you think there’s a fear among your biggest fans that you’re becoming part of the Hollywood machine?

JENKINS I think it’s a legitimate concern that if a Hollywood studio ever has influence over our content, that it would be dangerous and could potentially impact the accuracy or authenticity of the stories that we’re telling. They’ve seen it before. There is a segment of the audience that feels like they’ve been burned in the past. That said, anyone who believes that a distributor helping get this content out to more people is a bad or dangerous thing, is being ignorant and selfish. Anyone who believes that this content is actually good should be cheering for the fact that Lionsgate is our partner. They’re getting this content into areas where it might not normally be. I have no ears for anyone who believes spreading this show out to the world is somehow a bad thing.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

If I had know it was getting close to your birthday, I would have rushed to finished the Jaws of Life - but what better gift is there than hating on Dick Grayson and ruining his life?? (Also that gif is killing me lmao).

Anyway, onto the bants!!!!

Star: "as close as two people can be" so... on top of each other ?

Sunny: okay this cracked me up way too much omg. they've been even closer than that (dick in pussy.... the ultimate closeness)

Star: "reader character in this story of being more of an OC" does she have a name? if not, let's fucking goooo i want superpowers !!! AND a deep and complicated story line

Sunny: this actually made me smile so much omg. I am so glad that we are having fun with my choices LET'S GOOOOOOO

Star: "secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related" I WANT A SECRET SIBLING !!! PLEASE !!!

Sunny: for those of you following me who might be reading this, me and Star have been discussing the 'secret sibling' in DMs and she is already doing detective work trying to guess who it's gonna be. I am excited to see who is gonna be able to guess first. (if anybody else is gonna try to guess).

Star: "Robin was just another masked psychopath" ... now- and just hear me out here !! ...did they lie Grayson? you can be a masked psychopath with gOOD INTENTIONS !!! No one's taking that away from you

Sunny: 'masked psychopath with good intentions' has me fucking SNORTING omg. it makes him sound like a rabid dog - but he's muzzled. it's okay. he's gonna be fine.

Star: "The universe dangling something in front of you that you’re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want" anyone's still keeping count of the "lines in Sunny's fics I just think are neat" ?

Sunny: literally got me like this:

Star: "the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts" GOOD !!! this visual gives me a weird sense of satisfaction, like yeah ruin his shit, fuck it up actually

Sunny: I wasn't necessarily going for 'ruin his life' with this one, more so 'they are bound to be together and their personalities and lives will always be entwined, whether they intend it or not, and they will always clash like fabric ripping, but Dick still loves her' - but YEAH RUIN HIS SHIT !!!!

Star: "had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny?" sksksksksk yes actually, I do : 3

Sunny: you are like the third person to point out this line specifically and it's FUCKING HILARIOUS. Y/N was hiding behind a bush and then waited for an opportunity to jump out at him - she just wanted to fuck up his day

Star: "Grumpy.” You sighed, sounding defeated" she is everything to me !!!! oc coded reader they could NEVER make me hate you !!!! (make his life a nightmare please, we gotta)

Sunny: this is definitely inspiring me to make the reader More Annoying in future chapters <3 so thank you for that. she will be delightful for you and horrible for Dick <33

Star: "Just so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that" well TOO FUCKING BAD, BITCH !!! "Just because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesn’t mean you have too" ... this is why your father doesn't fucking love you

Sunny: 'this is why your father doesn't fucking love you' - I laughed so hard that I almost choked on my own spit. literally, you are one of the funniest people alive to me

Star: "but his eyes weren’t drawn to your cleavage" says you 😔 YESSSS NEAR DEATH EXPERIEEEEEEENCEEEE

Sunny: firstly - his eyes weren't drawn to the cleavage because his self destructive emotions are more important than being horny 60% of the time (being horny comes second). secondly, NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE!!!!!!!! and Dick blames himself for it <33333 which brings us back to: his self destructive emotions

Star: "This - this was why he was no fucking savior" this is just IMMACULATE !!! ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS !!!! yessssss get him on his worst qualities !!!!!

Sunny: we love his worst qualities <3 Season One Dick is an absolute Wreck and we love him for it!!!!

Star: "Well, you could be more polite.” You scoffed" i cannot even begin to explain how much I love their dynamic, it's perfect !! i like her so much

Sunny: again, this made me so giggly!!!!! I am so glad that their dynamic comes off well - it's something that I want to carry strong through the whole fic and I am so glad that people are loving it (especially you - your opinion matters to me so much <33)

Star: "Prentiss is looking for you!” *screaming and pointing* !!!!!!

Sunny: SEEEEE this is why I love using names from other media as references for random background characters. it's fun for everyone <333

Star: "But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number" you leave me dying on a hospital bed to go self flagellate, i am BLOCKING YOUR ASS !!!!!

Sunny: again, this made me fucking snort laugh. imagine Dick going through his fancy BatTech smartphone only to find that he is blocked by Vintage Hippie Girl who probably still uses a flip phone lmao (or maybe she doesn't even have a cellphone and only uses corded phones ??? like she only has a house number ??? CANON ??) (like now I am imagining that Dick keeps trying to buy a cellphone and push it on her but she is a technophobe so she doesn't carry the cellphone that he bought her, and whenever he calls her, he gets no response, which is SOOOOO annoying to him)

Star: "Oh fuck. You were right" YEAH !!!! YOU FUCKING THINK ???? YOU IDIOT !!!!

Sunny: she's always right <3 he is just stubborn

Star: once again, Im OBSESSED with their dynamic and honestly ???? Reader is also SO FUCKING INTERESTING !!!! I'm not a little dumbass coward like He is, so I for one looooooove characters being ominous and creepy (it stress me out most times but I live for it)

Sunny: AAAAAAH I am so glad that the reader is interesting!!!! I can't wait to reveal more of her backstory and reveal more of what happened between her and Dick during the OG Titans flashbacks - and things that happened during their childhood. like it's gonna be SOOOO GOOOD

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode One: "Titans"

Summary:

You and Dick haven't spoken since the Titans parted ways in San Francisco five years ago.

Even though you used to be as close as two people can be, both of you are doing just fine leading your own separate lives - until your psychic powers cause you to have a vision of the end of the world, and you have to turn to him for help. As much as Dick doesn't want to get involved, you know that him leading The Raven on the path she needs to travel is the only way to stop the terrible fate you saw.

He wants to deny it, and stay as far away from you as possible - but he can't avoid you or the truth that you have told him when he runs into that very Raven you speak of in an interrogation room later that night. He has to face a simple truth he has always known: you're always right.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 1.

Word Count: 2,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns (some people might accuse the reader character in this story of being more of an OC and I am okay with that - I try to make all the reader characters in my other stories as blank and open as possible and every now and then I let myself have a little bit of a treat) - but as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - I might make a separate post detailing the reader's entire backstory and power set (or I might just let it be spelled out slowly through the chapters) - but for now, I will tell you that the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; mentions of canon-typical violence; this fic does use Y/N; mentions of the reader being shot during a past undescribed incident; there is references to sex and discussions of sex, but no explicit smut (but there might be some later in the story? idk yet); emotionally constipated Dick Grayson; idk what else ? - pining, emotional angst, using humor to deflect emotional tension, banter. I just really like the vibes of this. there is not a lot of big content warnings for this fic (yet).

A/N: Honestly, I am really excited about this one. I have a lot of ideas for future episodes (especially the episode where Dick loses it emotionally and just gets followed around by a hallucination of Bruce for the entire episode - but that's not until Season 2, oop). Titans is one of my favourite series ever - if you couldn't tell - so getting to examine each episode closer and appreciate each individual episode as a unique piece of art while writing this instead of binging a whole season gives me a whole new appreciation for the show. I hope you guys enjoy these as they come out - especially because I do have an idea of where this fic is going, but I don't know where I want these characters to go in Season 4. (I kind of want to do a secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related and being siblings, but... idk. Sometimes people don't like that.) But this is definitely a good opportunity to send me ideas of where you want this story to go/how you want it to end up. Anyway - please enjoy!!!

....

Dick needed some fucking air. 

He could barely fucking handle today. He had to compose himself before he lost it and started breaking things. It was all such a shitshow - the department pushing a new partner on him, footage of Robin all over the news, every other half-cocked beat cop making comments about how Robin was just another masked psychopath who wasn’t that different from The Joker. 

Fuck them. 

If they only knew what Gotham was like - if only they had to deal with a department full of asshole’s on the Joker’s payroll. If only they had to watch criminals walk away because they made bail on the decision of a corrupt judge. If only they had to sit behind a desk and listen to a mother’s sobs as she begged for him to find her missing child - knowing how many people elbow to elbow with him would laugh at her tears rather than start looking. 

If they only spent one night tending to civilians while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air, with the Joker’s screaming laugh stuck in their ears because he thought that bombing a low-income housing complex was just that funny. 

Fuck all of them. 

Dick clenched his fist tight - his knuckles aching as he resisted the urge to drive his arm right through the glass at the front of the precinct. He just - he really needed some air. 

Dick walked out the front doors (rather than smashing the glass), and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying his best to calm down. It was getting late, and things were relatively slow, even for it being a Tuesday. No influx of late-night chaos yet. He had some time to collect himself before- 

“So - Robin’s in Detroit now, huh?” 

That voice. 

Dick felt the sting of familiarity pluck at his spine, and he whipped his head around at lightning speed, looking in the direction of the voice. Surely enough - you were the one standing there. It hadn’t been some kind of auditory hallucination on his part. 

So much for time to calm himself down. 

He was immediately met with a confliction - lust and annoyance bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to see you again, he didn’t want you to be here, especially not without warning. But you looked so damn good - it was a distraction from that fact. 

That was always the thing about exes, wasn’t it? 

(If Dick could even call you his ‘ex’ - the two of you had slept together more times than he could count, both metaphorically and literally, but the two of you had never put an official label on the relationship like he had with Dawn or Barbara. He cared for you like a friend, and like a lover in a way that he was never willing to admit - but did that make you his ex? Especially if he never stopped caring about you?) 

That thing about exes being: they always look so fucking good when you see them after a long time of being apart. The universe dangling something in front of you that you’re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want. 

But oh - Dick found himself wanting so very badly. (And he tried his hardest to hide that fact as he continued to carefully stare you down.) 

Because you looked so good. 

You were wearing something of your usual style - an outfit of many confusing layers that somehow showed off the natural curves of your body and hid you all at the same time. 

A long skirt with a ruffled hemline and bold, colorful pattern. A pair of boots that you had probably gotten from some vintage store that were likely older than both you and Dick, leathery and well worn in. Your jacket was much the same - a supple brown leather with a soft fur lining that made you look very warm and cozy. 

Topped off with a pair of the largest, gaudiest dangling earrings that Dick had ever seen - the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts and gotten the two of you tangled up during one of your hook-ups. A pair of earrings that he would have scolded you for wearing - but he would have delighted in finding them on his bedroom floor after you left because it meant having a piece of you still with him. And it would mean having an excuse to visit you later because he had something of yours to return. 

Those earrings glistened in the light of the street lamps, just as your eyes did while you stared him down with those inquisitive, knowing eyes. Looking at him with that same expression you always wore - the one that seemed to say you knew everything that he never would. It equally fascinated him and infuriated him. 

He hated the fact that you had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, causing his heart to race - had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny? 

“Y/N,” Dick said your name curtly, still feeling a slight twinge of shock that you were standing in front of him at all. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

You let out a dry chuckle, and stepped closer to him, making his whole body stiff. His first instinct was to step backward - to gain more distance from you. But he didn’t want to seem like he was afraid of you - afraid of that closeness. So he forcefully locked his legs and stayed in place as you drifted closer, and you idly conversed back. 

“Oh, Dickie.” You sighed in return, using his childhood nickname. “A warm welcome as always.” 

Dick rolled his eyes at this. Did he really need to bother with manners and formalities? The two of you had known each other for so long, he guessed that you were both well over stuff like that. 

“Do I need a reason to be here? Can’t I just visit an old friend?” You posed, a humorous tone still running through your voice. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a more defensive stance. He quickly went from shock then to annoyance. 

The two of you were old friends - you had known each other since you were in diapers together. The two of you had grown up together, raised by a unique circus family. And that meant that Dick knew you well enough to know that if you were here, you had a good reason to be. 

(If you had wanted to chase him when he first left Gotham, you likely would have camped out in the trunk of his car, or you would have shown up at his new apartment the day after he moved in. You wouldn’t have waited this long to contact him.) 

“Do us both a favor and cut the bullshit, please.” Dick replied sternly. “Why are you here?” 

“Grumpy.” You sighed, sounding defeated. 

He waited for a moment, and surely enough - you folded, now willing to directly explain your reason for showing up in Detroit so suddenly. 

“I had a vision.” You explained. “A girl. The Raven. A lot of others consider her to be the eater of worlds, but she is the one who is going to save us all, Dick.” 

He let out a harsh puff of air, reaching up and running fingers roughly over his temple. Yup, there it was - the headache had fully set in now. He really didn’t need this. Not tonight. 

He had known about your visions for a long time. When he was younger, he had been shocked to find out that you had inherited your mother’s ‘gift’. He previously had no clue that her set-up as a sideshow fortune teller with Tarot cards and a large crystal ball wasn’t all psychology tricks and half-guesses she put on for tourists - but in fact, it was actually something informed by larger supernatural forces at play. And it was something you could do as well. 

So he was inclined to believe you when you told him about this vague vision, but he also didn’t want to be involved. He had a lot on his plate right now - he didn’t need this. 

“Look, I’m sure that whatever you saw was important, but-” He began. 

You sighed and shook your head harshly at this ‘but’. 

“Why don’t you just take it to New York instead? This kind of thing is way more Donna’s speed, anyway. I’m sure she can help you find this girl, and-” 

“That won’t help.” You told him. “The girl is already on her way here.” 

You spoke the words with such utter certainty, and it sent shivers up Dick’s spine. The calm, tranquil look on your face - the ominous wiseness you held: it reminded Dick so much of your mother. The other-worldly authority she held that had ultimately gotten her killed. It was strangely creepy. 

“Just so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that.” Dick told you, gesturing to your person with stiff offense in his body. “Just because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“I’m not playing.” You replied, exasperated. 

You knew that Dick could be frightened of your powers at times. He was someone very logic-based - he built his beliefs around facts. So having you follow your visions and your ‘gut feelings’ when they were never concrete, changing on a dime - he hated the uncertainty and chaos that came with it all. But you had learned to trust yourself and your feelings over time, even if he didn’t. 

“And you know, you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not.” You told him, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Robin made his first appearance in months last night.” 

Dick became stiff at this, and quickly glanced around - as though waiting for someone to appear out of nowhere and point an accusing finger at him, screaming out that he was Robin and he had been caught. 

“You can’t help it, Dick Grasyon.” You declared with intense certainty. “You need to save people, you need to feel like you’re making a difference, you-” 

“So what, now you expect me to save the whole fucking world?” Dick snapped back. 

“She does.” You corrected. 

“Who?” He replied - confused and once again annoyed at your mysticism and bold confidence in your visions. 

“The Raven.” You told him. “She needs you. And whether you like it or not, you need her.” 

You shifted your stance then, waiting for him to tell you that you were right - which was how most of your arguments ended. 

But then, as a sick reminder, the lapel of your jacket opened enough for Dick to get a glance at your chest. The neckline of your blouse was wide open, but his eyes weren’t drawn to your cleavage - instead, he became focused on a large scar that you had sitting over your heart. A place where a bullet had ripped through you, leaving you barely alive. 

He still remembered the feeling of your blood warm under his hands while you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, begging him to save you. He remembered sitting at your bedside, believing that you would never wake up again. 

He couldn’t help but to reach up and gently skim his thumb across the roughness of the scarred skin as he glared at it with a stiff jaw. The touch sent shivers through you - it was the first time he had touched you since that last night in Gotham, when you had woken up to an empty bed and absolutely no explanation as to where he had gone. 

Dick felt rage boil inside of him. 

How could you ask him to save the world when he had been responsible for this? 

This - this was why he was no fucking savior. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, choking on the words slightly as he took his hand down, shoving it back into his pocket once again. He had to avoid the temptation of touching you any further. 

If you weren’t safe around him, why would some little girl from your visions be? 

“This isn’t about me.” You scoffed. “Or-” 

‘Or us.’ 

You held back, knowing how dangerous it was to mention the royal Us around flighty Dick Grayson. For a bird without wings, he was absolutely capable of taking off in a quick moment when he wanted to. 

“This is about something so much bigger.” You pressed. “She’ll be here soon.” 

Dick let out another strained sigh at you using such ominous words again. 

“Well, next time you’re gonna come here and be all ominous and creepy, you should at least bring some coffee.” He told you, sarcasm tight on his lips. 

You made a mocking face in return. 

“Well, you could be more polite.” You scoffed. 

Before Dick could recommend that the two of you go and get a coffee in order to truly catch up, someone called out his name, drawing his attention away from you for a moment. 

“Hey, Grayson!” Someone called, sticking their head out the front door. “Prentiss is looking for you!” 

When he turned back, you were gone. He tried not to linger on it too much - how creepy it was. You were silent and quick like a ghost - he thought that your ominous jewelry might jingle like a house cat’s bell. 

But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number. 

…

Dick walked into the interrogation room, trying to clear his mind of the interaction with you. When he saw a small, scared girl, he thought it best to lighten the mood with a joke. 

“Hi, I’m Detective Grayson.” He said, introducing himself. “I hear you like to play baseball with bricks and cop cars. You wanna tell me what happened?” 

“You’re him.” She said, whimpering and tearful. “You’re the boy from the Circus.” 

At first, Dick thought that everyone was simply being ominous and creepy today. But then he realized:

‘Oh fuck. You were right.’

...

A/N: Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically the first chapter in a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series (it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, etc.). Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thanks. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it. But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things), and feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open.

[outsideratheart]

Secret’s Out (Christen Press x Reader)

A/N: Here is a 4k Christen fic that nobody asked for but the idea has been stuck in my head for a few days so I had to type it up.

An invite to Orlando never got declined. Ash asked if you and Christen wanted to come and visit for a few days before the season started. It was a chance to relax before the season, consider it the calm before the storm.

You all decide to go for a picnic. You, Christen, Ash, Ali, Alex, Sydney and the kids.

Ash called you over to help her when Cassius and Roux was on the attack. You take Charlie from Alex so that the little girl could join in the fun whilst Sloane stayed with the adults.

Christen watches as you and Ash play with the kids, her thoughts consumed by what your future would be like, what your own family would be like.

After chasing Cassius around you lay on the floor attempting to catch your breath when Charlie jumps on your stomach. The little girls laughter bringing everyone’s attention to the two of you. When you look over at Christen she has her hand resting on her small bump. To anyone else it is a thoughtless act but you know exactly what she is doing.

You make eye contact with her and then move you eyes to the direction of her stomach. A small laugh escapes as Christen quickly retracts her hand from her stomach as she looks around to see if someone saw her, you shake your head letting her know that she was in the clear.

This was your first attempt at IVF and you knew that you were very lucky to have gotten pregnant on your first try. Now you weren’t superstitious but you both agreed to wait until the 12 week mark passed before you would share the news.

You were exhausted, playing with the children made running shuttles seem like a warm up. You and ash are never ones to back down from a challenge so after successfully tiring the kids out you both back to your wives with a sense of accomplishment. 

“How are my girls?” You ask as you place a quick kiss on Christen’s lips.

You realise you have slipped up as soon as you finish your sentence. You freeze in the kiss for a second, eyes wide as you try and think of a reason why you would say what you did.

“So we’re your girls now? What are we Y/N’s Angels?” Alex says.

“I mean I was speaking to my wife and my god daughter” you say taking Sloane from Ali “But I do like the sound of Y/N’s Angels”

You breath a sigh of relieve as no one questions you any further.

“Nice save” Christen whispers into your ear.

The trip to Orlando was a success. You were able to spend quality time with your friends and they were none the wiser about the new addition the to Press Y/L/N family.

***************************

Truth is you had mixed feelings about going to camp for the SheBelieves Cup. Christen is still determined to keep the pregnancy a secret but you told her she should tell Vlatko. After several discussions, some getting a bit heated, Christen agreed that Vlatko should know but that no one else could. She asked if you would tell him and you agreed, at least this way he can be prepared for a team without Christen in.

When you arrived at camp you immediately asked Vlatko if you could talk in private.

“What’s going on there?” Alex asks Christen as they take a seat in the conference room.

“I don’t know. He asked Y/N to go and see him when we got here” 

Everyone arrived pretty late at camp so most players decide to have an early night before the hard work began the next day.

It was 11:30pm when you felt someone poke your cheek. You sigh as you knew what was coming.

“Can I help you?” You open your eyes ever so slightly hoping that you won’t fully wake up.

“I want Cinnabon” Christen told you.

You rolls your eyes. This wasn’t the first time that Christen had woke you up with one of her cravings and you knew it wouldn’t be your last. The women always had cravings in the middle of the night, never during the day like a normal person.

“It’s almost midnight and I don’t even know if there is a Cinnabon around here” You tell her.

“There is one at the top of the street which is open but it closes soon” 

30 minutes, it closed in 30 minutes. You were still in bed and your wife expected you to get there in less than 30 minutes.

“It is past curfew, if I get caught I will have to do sprints” you try to persuade Christen to let this one go. 

“It isn’t me that wants it, it’s the baby” Christen looks at you with her best puppy dog eyes.

She had used the baby card, which she knew always worked. Christen has you wrapped round her finger from the very beginning of your relationship or so you thought. Since finding out she was pregnant you soon found out just of far you would go and what you would do so that your wife would be happy.

Which is how you found yourself at Cinnabon at 11:50pm and what is worse, you couldn’t have any because Dawn would kill you.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed but quickly noticed that bathroom light on and heard Christen emptying her stomach. The first trimester has been difficult for her, the morning sickness seemed never ending.

You quickly pull her hair back and use a hair tie off your wrist to tie it back. You gently rub Christen’s back trying to comfort her.

“I thought you said the morning sickness stops at 12 weeks” Christen says as she leans against the bath tub. You take a seat next to her as she lifts your arm up so that she can cuddle into your side.

You want to tell her that it could have something to do with her midnight snack but when you see her face you know that now isn’t the best time for an I told you so speech.

“That is what the book said. Have you been up long?” You ask her.

“No” she looks at her watch “about 30 minutes”

“How about you join me back in bed” you suggest.

“I have just been throwing up and you think that the solution is sex”

“Christen Press, get your head of the gutter” you say playfully “as much as I love that, let’s sleep for now and then if you still have the same thoughts when you wake up then we can take it to the shower” 

Once back in bed, Christen falls asleep within minutes. You however take a little bit longer, you hated it when Christen was sick. The doctor told you it was normal but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

You are woken up by Christen once again in the bathroom.

Getting out of bed, you go the bathroom to find your wife in the same position as she was earlier. You hold your hands out and christen takes them as she gets up off the floor. You decide to turn the shower on.

“Arms up” You tell Christen and she does as she is told.

You take Christen’s top off before bending down to take her Pyjama shorts off.

Before standing up you place a gently kiss on her stomach.

“Good morning little one. I need you to be a little bit nicer to your mommy ok” you look up at christen as the baby kicks “I will take that as a ok” 

You stand up stripping yourself of your clothes before joining your wife in the shower.

When you and Christen get to the make shift food hall she tells you to take a seat and that she will get breakfast.

“Get up to anything interesting last night Y/N?” Ash asks as she shows her phone to rest of the players at the table.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out what she is talking about. Someone must have spotted you getting Chris’ midnight cravings and posted it on social media. Still you didn’t know for sure you you choose to play dumb,

“I watched a movie with Christen then got some sleep. What about you?” You ask her.

“So you didn’t leave the hotel at all?” Kelley joins in as you gives you Ash’s phone. Yep, they definitely knew.

Christen brings you some oats and a tea. This was a sacrifice you had made for her. Christen couldn’t handle the smell of eggs so you had to change your breakfast, a small price to pay if it meant that she could keep her breakfast down.

As for the coffee, she loved it but she wasn’t allowed it. You told her to try decaf but she told you it wasn’t the same. She then got mad at you because you could drink it and she couldn’t. In the end you agreed to give it up for the duration of her pregnancy. Something that you were deeply regretting right now.

“Y/N Y/L/N” Dawn shouts from across the room, you know what is coming and you can’t do anything to stop it.

You watch as she walks over to you, well it was more of a march. The women was on a mission and her target was you.

“Good Morning Dawn, did you sleep well?” You try to be as charming as possible.

“I had a great night sleep. You on the other hand must be tired, what after your late night adventure to Cinnabon” 

You look at Christen. You knew this would bite you in the ass.

“Don’t look at her. We are know it’s your favourite” she says emphasising your. This was true, you had a soft spot for the pastry, it was your first choice whenever you were allowed a treat and everyone knew it.

The whole table including Christen is looking at you as they know what is coming but the look on Christen’s face is different, her look is one filled with guilt.

“Normally I give you the choice of sprints or laps but considering you not only broke meal plan you also broke curfew your punishment is sprints” 

“I was going to pick sprints anyways” you say childishly.

“Meet me on the pitch in 30 minutes”

You salute her before resting your head on Christen’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry” She kiss your temple.

“It was worth it” You say as you remember Chris’ face when she was eating. She was like a small child on halloween eating all of their candy.

You get teased by the other players before having to go upstairs to get ready for your punishment. 

You were in Connecticut and it was freezing yet after the sprints you still wasn’t warm.

You had just finished when you saw the team arrive at the training pitch. You noticed Christen was just in a jacket which angered you. 

“Enjoy your sprints?” Kelley teased.

You give her the finger in response.

The team begins to warm up but you notice Chris staying on the side line talking to a member of the coaching staff. As far as you was aware she was training with the team but not playing games.

Alex notices you staring at your wife.

“She said she didn’t feel very well and asked to sit this session out” the other forward told you.

After warming up you go straight to Christen.

“Everything ok?” You ask.

“Yes, just feel a little under the weather” 

When you look at her the concern on your face in obvious.

“I’m ok, just feel nauseous” 

You nod your head not fully believing her.

Christen wraps her arms behind your back, under your coat as she tries to put herself in your coat.

“Are you cold? You ask her and she nods “Do you want my coat?” Again she nods. You give her your coat and shiver as you remove the thick layer. 

You copy Christen’s action when you wrap your arms around her.

“Gotta make sure my girls are nice and warm” you slightly stroke your hand over Christen’s stomach.

***************************

Training goes by quickly, soon you are back in your hotel room.

You get a quick shower and when you get out you see Christen laid on the bed watching the TV.

“Come cuddle with me” she tells you.

You lay on the bed cuddling into her side with your arm draped over her stomach. 

You can feel Christen’s eyes on you but she doesn’t say anything.

“I need to tell you something but I need to stay calm” Although you know Christen means well by her warning, it has the opposite effect on you.

You sit up straight away, all of you attention on her.

“What is it? Are you ok? Is the baby ok?” Panic consuming your every word.

“Y/N calm down” Christen asks as she grabs your hand.

You take a deep breath. 

“So I may have downplayed the reason why I didn’t train with the team this morning”

You roll your eyes, this was one of Christen’s worst habits. Whenever something was wrong she would tell half truths as not to worry people.

You raise your eyebrows slightly, a sign for her to continue what she was saying.

“After you left I begin to feel sick again so I came back to the room, I couldn’t keep my breakfast down then I kept getting light headed” 

“Christen these are the type of things that I should know” the disappointment in your voice is evident.

“I’m telling you now” 

“Not the same thing”

“Y/N I didn’t want you to worry about me. I know you have been on edge this entire pregnancy and I didn’t want to add this to your plate. I woke you up this morning with me vomiting, I have stopped you from having your favourite breakfast and you have stopped drinking coffee because of me. I hate being such a burden”

How could Christen ever think she was a burden. She was giving you a family, something you have wanted for as long as you can remember.

“Look at me” you say as you lift her chin so that she is looking you in the eye “You are not a burden, you never could be. Am I stressed? Yes but that I because I am scared. I am scared something happens and keeping secrets from me isn’t going to make me feel any better. You are carrying our child, something that I will never be able to thank you enough for. I was not ecstatic about running sprints” Christen lets out small giggle  “but I will happily do it again it means I get you what you are craving. I will do anything you need me to do because I love you and I love this little one” you move your gaze to her stomach.

“We love you too” Christen tells you.

“Just promise me going forward you will tell me if you don’t feel good”

“I promise” 

You both go back to your previous position watching the TV, that is until there is a knock on the door. 

Christen tries to move but you tighten your grip on her.

“Ignore it” you tell her.

“We heard that” the voice on the other side of the door says, a voice which belongs to Pinoe.

The knocking continues, louder this time.

“Go away” you shout

“That’s not nice” Ash shouts back.

“I don’t care” you say.

Christen manages to untangle herself from your hold, taking it upon herself to answer the door when she realises that you aren’t going to.

She opens the door letting Ash and Pinoe in.

“What’s wrong with you?” Pinoe asks.

“Nothing” you huff.

“We are going to the bar down the street, they have a pool table. Fancy coming?” Ash says as she throws herself on the bed next to you.

Truth is you wanted nothing more than to spend the night in with Christen but camp was the only time that you got spend with your two best friends. Soon the season would be starting, Ash would be back in Orlando, Megan would be in Seattle and you would be back in Utah.

“Y/N would love to go” Christen says accepting the invite for you “Wouldn’t you?”

You look at her. She has just told you that she wasn’t feeling well, she has been sick several times today and she kept getting light headed. Yet here she was saying that would go out to a bar and leave her in the hotel.

Christen senses your hesitation, even Ash and Pinoe do.

“I don’t know, I think I am just doing to stay in tonight” you say overruling your girlfriend.

“Y/N go” Christen says as Megan and Ash look at you and then at Christen then back to you.

“But Chris” you begin to argue.

She knew exactly what you are going to say “I will text Tobin and ask if she wants to watch a movie” 

She sees you physically relax at the thought of her having someone with her.

“Pleaseeeee” Ash wines.

“Fine but don’t complain when I beat you both”

You get off the bed, give Christen a quick kiss.

“Call me if anything happens”

“I will”

***************************

You made a mental note to thank Christen for making you go out. 

You watch Pinoe and Ash talk trash to each other as they are both are on the black ball, both wanting nothing more than to win the game.

That is the thing when your friends are athletes, everyone is super competitive. It doesn’t mater if it is a scrimmage or who can down their drink first. Everyone wanted to win and that is what made you one of the best teams in the world.

Figuring that the game will go on a little longer you go to bar and get another round of drinks. Two beers for your friends and a soda water for you.

“Y/N, your phone is ringing” Ash says holding up your phone “it’s Christen”

Her words strike fear in you.

“Christen” you answer hoping that the voice on the other end is fine.

“It’s Tobin” The panic growing inside of you when you hear your friend’s voice instead of your wife’s.

“She wants me to tell you she is fine but” Tobin pauses looking at Chris.

“I am fine” You hear her say in the background.

“No you’re not” Tobin replies and your panic turns into anger due to the fact that you still were none the wiser why Tobin called you in the first place.

“For god sake. Tobin, tell me what happened” you snapped, something that you would apologise for later.

“Christen fainted” Tobin says and you don’t need to hear anymore, at least not right now.

“I am on my way” you say before hanging up.

You are out of the door before you can tell Ash and Pinoe what happened but they follow you out trying to keep up with with you, ultimately failing as you run as fast as you can back to the hotel.

You get to your room and reach into your pocket. Shit you think when you can’t find your key.

You knock on the door loudly. You didn’t care who else heard you.

“Tobin it’s me. Open the door” you shout.

To your surprise it is Alex who opens your door. By the looks of it half on the team is in your room. It gives you temporary comfort knowing that you were surrounding by so many people who cared.

When you get past the small crowd of players you see Christen laying on the bed. She looked exhausted, the green eyes you are used too are duller than normal and her signature smile was no where to be seen.

You sit down on the edge of the bed next to her. She leans up to join your embrace.

“Are you ok?” Christen nods into the crook of your neck.

When you pull away you are quick to wipe the tears you wasn’t aware had fallen.

“What happened?” You ask.

Christen is about to speak but you stop her as you get of the bed.

“Not you. Tobin, what happened?” You ask Tobin. 

You knew that Christen would downplay the events and you wanted to know everything that happened.

“We were watching a film when Chris said she didn’t feel well and ran to the bathroom, next thing I know she is throwing up, a lot. I went in to make sure she was ok and she said that she was” you look at Christen shaking your head “I helped her up off the bathroom floor and made my way back to watch the movie, she was right behind me” Tobin pauses and you can tell that thinking about it scared her, Christen is her best friend after all “She said she felt dizzy and when I turned around she was on the floor”

You play the events in your head. The image of Christen laying on the floor unconscious is too much. You look back at your Wife, tears falling down your face. You were scared, worried, a little angry but most of all your were overwhelmed.

Christen takes your hands and leads you to the bed, sitting you down.

You look up at her, fear in your eyes. 

“We’re are ok” she says trying to reassure you.

“You don’t know that. What if…if…..something” you know what you want to say but you can’t say the words, not out loud.

“I do” Christen tells you, the certainty in her voice giving you a little bit a hope.

The team watch the two of you. Part of them feels guilty being here, in a moment which feels private, intimate almost.

Christen takes off her zip hoodie which you recognise as one of yours. In doing so she reveals her slightly swollen stomach. 

Alex gasps in the background, causing your to laugh a little bit. You turn to face her and she has her hands covering her mouth. You nod you head, confirming what she was thinking, she was the first to know the secret.

Christen grabs your hand and places it on her stomach, with hers over the top of yours.

The sound you let out can only be described as a mixture of a sob and a sigh of relieve.

“See” Christen pauses and you feel the kick “She’s ok, we are both ok”

You move your hand and lean forward so that your head is against her stomach. 

“Hey, little miss. you had me worried there for moment” you tell your unborn child as Christen runs her fingers through your hair, something she knew always calmed you down.

Everyone in the room becoming aware of what the sight in front of them meant. You hear a few mumbles, a couple a gasps and a sniffle which you would learn came from Tobin.

“What did we miss?” You hear someone say. You stand up and turn around to see an extremely out of breath Ash and P. 

“I guess the secret’s out” you tell Christen.

“What secret?” Pinoe whispers to Alex, Alex only shushing her in response.

“She is past twelve weeks” Christen responds, giving you the permission you wanted.

“We are having a baby” you announce to the team.

“Pressy’s pregnant?” Ash shouts earning a slap in the arm from Ali, the alcohol clearly have an effect on her volume control.

“She is” you confirm.

The team congratulate the two of you on the fantastic news, everyone happy to hear that the USWNT is getting a new member. The rest of the night is spent in yours and Christen’s room, an impromptu team bonding night to celebrate.

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[sortasirius]

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me.  Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based.  In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place.  Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!”  Bruh.  The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode.  You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season).  Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here.  Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone.  He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else.  That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit.  This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this.  That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS.  AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all.  Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this?  I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20?  AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT?  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half?  Nothing really happened?  Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around.  It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it.  The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery.  Truly, that is the only thing.  It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper​ got a week or so before the finale.  She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right?  It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc.  The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.”  Uh.  Where are they?  And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So.  Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

????????  That’s the end if it?  They don’t need to be discussed after this???  It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too?  Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay?  Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else.  They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else.  Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here.  What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right.  Weird as fuck.  Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas?  My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene.  Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back.  Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it.  Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad.  It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway.  He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here).  Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying.  My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair​ spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven.  The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago.  We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread).  The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here.  Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here.  Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions.  Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was.  None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why?  Why lie to all of us when we have questions?  Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense.  Simply?  Warner Brothers is absolutely massive.  These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs.  They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha.  It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him.  He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids.  It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then. 

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram.  It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other. 

My theory?  They didn’t know.  They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all?  Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so.  I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God.  I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read.  He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that?  Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys.  Why would he get involved?  He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is.  He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam.  I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to.  So what changed?  What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious?  CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South.  It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And?  They don’t care.  They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects​ wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here).  They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line.  And you know what?  To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what?  They warned us.  I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network.  I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it���s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want?  Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy.   In fact, to the people trashing them?  You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb.  Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them.  The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this,  Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

[marjansmarwani]

random q if you feel like answering: what are your headcannons for enzo? and if you have any, who would your dream actor or actor choices for him be if he appeared on the show?

Is this a gentle nudge to finish my Enzo fic, Anon? If so, you're right, I really should finish that.

Either way, yes, I have many headcanons for Enzo. Most of them either were written into my Enzo and TK fic that covers season 1 or are outlined or written into the yet to be completed chapter, covering season 2.

My version of Enzo (full name Lorenzo Cohen), is a history professor at Columbia University. He's Jewish and his mother is Italian, for reasons that mostly exist for scenes I wrote about TK's childhood. He's lived in New York his entire life and I imagine he and Gwyn met at a fundraiser or maybe an alumni event at Columbia, because Gwyn completing Law School there would make perfect sense. He's traveled a fair bit, both with Gwyn for her business trips and also for his own research and career, but I don't think it's a stretch to say that once TK was in the picture he stayed behind more often and that there was a lot of time with just the two of them.

I've always imagined that due to the nature of his parent's jobs, Enzo was always the one who was there for a last-minute pickup or emergency. I could see TK being resentful of him at first and yeah, maybe it took a while to warm up to this man that his mother was with that was not his dad. But he won him over simply by always being there and actually listening to him in a way neither of his parents really ever did because they were often too distracted by their jobs. I'd also always figured that after Owen's second wife (who we now know was named Lorainne) came into the picture, TK appreciated Enzo all the more.

He's steady and calm with a very dry sense of humor and he doesn't hate Owen, but he acknowledges that they are very, very different people. The only redeeming quality he finds in Owen is that while he's not the best parent some days he does really love his son, and that's enough for Enzo to make sure that they stay civil; for TK and Gwyn's sake if nothing else. He loves Gwyn but never pushed the marriage issue with her. They discussed it I'm sure but I could see her saying she didn't want to do that again and that was fine with him. He didn't care what their label was, as long as they were together. That has never stopped him from referring to TK as his stepson though. Even when he and Gwyn canonically separated in season 2, he didn't change that. It's the only way he can think to describe the relationship he and TK have in a way that makes sense to anyone else.

I've long had the idea that Enzo was the first person TK came out to. Not because he didn't trust either of his parents, but because Enzo was there. Maybe he also figured if it went badly at least he would know and would just never bring it up to either of his parents. Obviously, it did not go bad and that pushed him to do that with his parents too, as soon as he got the chance. I'm assuming TK probably got into some trouble as a teenager (I had always assumed that maybe he had started with drugs then but according to the show that might not be the case) so yeah he, and Enzo had their struggles too because dealing with a teenager who is determined to find trouble is never easy. Especially if he was acting out to get someone's attention and it never really worked. But Enzo never stopped showing up and even through all the teen angst, TK appreciated that.

I am terrible at the fancast questions, but @iboatedhere has suggested Timothy Olyphant, and I could see that. A friend and I joked about John Stamos back when Enzo was first mentioned because he seems like someone who would just irritate Owen to no end, and that would be fun. I did do some thinking to try and submit my own I came up with Josh Duhamel and Dulé Hill. Both would be great (and Dulé Hill would continue the trend of West Wing alums so he gets a few extra bonus points) and I enjoy them both, but I think they might be a little too young. But that's the only point against them, and I think they could work around that.

[tommyspeakycap]

request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.

[cuttoothed]

Getting this in just under the wire for day 1 of @jonmartinweek prompt “Comfy Jumpers”. I get so much joy from writing these two in s1 and thinking “lol you idiots are going to be in love some day.”

*

Martin knows that Jon doesn’t approve of the way he dresses.

It’s not exactly a surprise. Jon doesn’t approve of much about Martin: his report-writing, his Latin translations, even his very existence seems to irk Jon at times. Frankly, the feeling is mutual. Martin was perfectly happy working in the library, where his boss wasn’t an overbearing perfectionist arsehole, and if he’d been given a choice in the matter he’d still be shelving books and updating the filing systems, not getting glared at for his clothing choices. He’s well aware that Jon never wanted him in the Archives either, but they’re here now, so Mister Head Archivist is just going to have to live with it. They’re both going to have to.

Jon isn’t subtle about his displeasure; it’s difficult to miss his pointed scowls at Martin’s scuffed trainers and graphic-print t-shirts. And considering that Sasha wears jeans and t-shirts some days as well—though admittedly she tends to plain colors or muted prints, rather than retro video game characters—it’s pretty clear that it’s less about the clothes than it is the person wearing them.

Well, Jon can scowl all he wants, because everything Martin wears technically falls within the Institute’s dress code and there’s not a word Jon can say to him.

Martin has always run hot, so as winter closes in and other people are bundling up in heavy coats and jumpers, he throws hoodies over his t-shirts and zips them up only far enough that the bright graphic prints are still clearly visible to Jon’s critical eye.

Yeah, he thinks sometimes when he walks into Jon’s office, get an eyeful of Yoshi and see how you like it.

Jon, for his part, seems determined to outlast the winter in his usual dress shirt and tweed jacket combo. Martin knows that Jon isn’t particularly warm blooded—he’s seen the way the man huddles into his jacket like a tortoise in its shell until the central heating warms the basement up in the mornings—but he still refuses to add so much as an argyle sweater vest to his outfit in deference to the season.

The only concession Jon makes to the weather is a voluminous gray overcoat and a dark purple scarf, which he takes off the moment he gets into the office, regardless of how cold it is before the ancient heating system creaks to life.

And, well, it’s none of Martin’s business if his boss is too much of a pompous arse to dress appropriately for the weather. If he wants to freeze his backside off to maintain his academic dignity, far be it from Martin to intervene. Martin doesn’t feel sorry for him, when he sees Jon blowing on his fingers to warm them up, or briskly rubbing his arms while he waits for the kettle to boil and he thinks nobody else is around. Not in the slightest.

It’s below zero on the day in December when the central heating finally gives up the ghost. Even Martin can feel the chill in the Archives this morning, keeps his hoodie zipped up all the way even when he runs into Jon in the kitchenette. Jon looks miserably cold, his shoulders hunched and his movements stiff as he makes his tea.

“Morning, Jon,” Martin says cheerfully. “Bit nippy, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” says Jon sardonically. Somewhere overhead, there’s a metallic clanking as the heating system starts up.

“Finally,” Jon mutters, casting his eyes upward. The pipes creak and clank some more, and there’s an odd whirring sound that Martin’s fairly sure isn’t normal, and then a long, descending groan into silence.

“Oh,” says Martin. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Bloody hell,” says Jon, and storms off to his office. A while later, he sends an email to inform them all that he’s spoken to Elias and the heating is out for the whole building, and that they should all feel free to work from home for the rest of the day if they choose. Sasha and Tim waste no time packing up, but Martin lingers, agonizing over which notes and references he should take with him. He’s never before had a job where working from home was an option, and he isn’t Tim or Sasha, isn’t someone Jon trusts and actually wanted to work with. Martin needs to make sure he gets it right.

At last he thinks he has everything he needs, but still Martin is hesitating, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. Maybe he should just check in with Jon before he leaves, make sure there isn’t anything else he needs to do. Make sure Jon knows I’m going to be working today, not just skiving off.

The door to Jon’s office is standing ajar; Martin taps on it, and pokes his head in without waiting for a response.

Jon looks up as he walks in, his expression startled. He is wearing a jumper. A chunky knit jumper in a warm maroon color, with a Christmas tree and several reindeer on the front. One of the reindeer has a red bobble for a nose. The jumper is oversized, the ends of the sleeves falling past Jon’s wrists.

It’s...incredibly cute, which is not a term that Martin ever expected to associate with his arsehole boss. Attractive, in a severe, unattainable way, sure, but not cute. Yet somehow, here they are.

“Ah, Martin,” Jon says, looking flustered. “I, uh, I thought you’d left with the others?”

“I was—I just wanted to check in with you first, make sure you didn’t need anything. You should head home too, it’s freezing in here.”

“I—I’m perfectly fine.” Jon plucks at the front of the jumper, looking embarrassed. “This is, ah, I bought this for the Institute Christmas party, but it’s surprisingly warm—and quite comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s, uh, that’s not part of your usual wardrobe then?” Martin hazards a chuckle, and to his relief, Jon huffs an amused breath. He raises a hand to adjust his glasses, but his sleeve gets in the way; he pushes both sleeves up to the elbows, and oh no, that’s even cuter.

“No, not—not usually,” he says. Martin frowns, suddenly remembering.

“You didn’t wear it at the party last week, though?”

“No, it’s—it was from the previous year, when I was in Research. It-it didn’t seem appropriate this year, being in a management role. Fortunately I still had it in a box, though I, uh, I didn’t really expect anyone to see me in it.”

Martin feels a sudden pang of something that might be sympathy. He understands how it feels, the desperate pressure to be professional, to be taken seriously, the constant second guessing of what you’re doing, whether you’re giving away something you shouldn’t. It’s hardly the same, of course: Jon’s not likely to be fired for wearing a silly jumper. But...Martin gets it.

“Actually,” he lies, “I, uh, I have to meet with Sophie up in the library later, so I’m around for the day. I was just going to go out and pick up some early lunch. Thought I’d see if you want anything?”

“Oh, ah, where are you going?” Jon asks tentatively, looking surprised at the offer.

“I was thinking of that cafe just around the corner—maybe get some soup and a sandwich?”

“That would be...very nice, actually. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” says Martin, and takes the ten pound note Jon offers him.

“Thank you, Martin,” says Jon, and it’s the probably the most sincere thing Martin’s ever heard him say. He finds himself smiling without meaning to.

“Not a problem.”

It’s too early for lunch, really, but Martin knows Jon never eats breakfast and he missed it himself this morning. He gets two portions of steaming tomato and basil soup and toasted cheese sandwiches from the cafe, and when he gets back, Jon’s found a small space heater to plug in, so his office is marginally warmer than the rest of the Archives. They sit on opposite sides of Jon’s desk to eat, talking about the case that Martin’s working on. It’s the first time Martin’s actually had the chance to properly discuss a case, rather than stumbling through his report while Jon watches expectantly; Jon listens, and asks questions, and even offers some helpful suggestions for Martin’s follow up. It’s...oddly nice.

(Jon also continues to look unreasonably cute in his oversized Christmas jumper, but Martin carefully ignores that.)

The heating gets fixed by early afternoon, and the Archives warm up to the point where Martin can unzip his hoodie. When he drops off his finished case report to Jon’s office, Jon is back in his shirt and jacket, the maroon jumper packed away out of sight. He looks perfectly staid and professional once again. I saw you looking cute, though, Martin thinks, and then tries to pretend he didn’t; he is not going down that route.

Jon glances up when Martin comes in, taking in the “Marvin the Martian” t-shirt that’s now visible beneath his hoodie. Instead of a disapproving scowl, however, he gives a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says as he takes the report, and something flutters warm in Martin’s chest.

Oh no, he thinks.

[hellsbellschime]

Why Will Dany Burn King’s Landing?

Although most fans of A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones understandably aren't keen on revisiting the sloppy final season of the TV series, season 8 of the show is actually home to some of the most interesting indications of where the book series may or may not be going.

Season 8 was largely so confusing because the series was attempting to get across the finish line as fast as possible, but many of the messier aspects of the show were also clearly driven by the fact that Game of Thrones had already significantly deviated from the story that George RR Martin was trying to tell. So, when the time came for the TV series to end, the show had to push its characters into their decided endgames despite the fact that many alterations to their prior arcs now made those endings somewhat nonsensical.

George has already directly stated that the broad strokes of the ending will be the same in the books, but I think it stands to reason that the most controversial aspect of the series end, Daenerys' decision to burn King's Landing, will likely be significantly different within the books.

There are a lot of theories about how Dany's dark, or at least slightly darker, turn is going to go in the novels. Many fans unsuprisingly have come up with speculations that alleviate most of Dany's responsibility for the destruction of the city, but I think the notion that someone else will burn King's Landing or that Daenerys will burn the capitol by accident are extremely unlikely.

I can't envision a world where George RR Martin lets any of his main characters off the hook for the most destructive choice in the entire series, and frankly it has always been completely in character for Daenerys to justify any amount of devastation and destruction if it's in service of reclaiming the Iron Throne. And honestly, despite the fact that Game of Thrones retconned most of Dany's darkest book decisions and characteristics, even within the TV series itself, burning King's Landing was largely a logical extension of Dany's habit of killing anybody who gives even the slightest indication that they might not follow her.

However, it also seems undeniable that the burning of King's Landing is almost certainly going to come about due to different circumstances. And, it seems extremely likely that the omission of one significant character in the books, Young Griff, will be one of the key differences in the destruction of King's Landing and the entire Targaryen dynasty.

While I don't think Young Griff's non-Targaryen heritage is nearly as undeniable as many other fans do, one thing that seems very probable is that regardless of whether or not Aegon is really Aegon Targaryen, Daenerys will not believe that he is the long lost son of Rhaegar Targaryen.

Cersei becoming Dany's greatest rival never really made sense considering how few legitimate supporters she had. But on the other hand, someone like Young Griff, who has spent his entire life training to become the best king possible, seems like the kind of person who will likely win at least a significant amount of support among the lords of Westeros and the common people, who at this point would honestly prefer anyone other than Cersei anyway.

But, if Dany arrives in Westeros and there is a Targaryen who she doesn't believe is a Targaryen already sitting on the Iron Throne with the backing of a multitude of kingdoms as well as the common people, clearly she's going to be pissed. And obviously she's going to have a huge axe to grind with the boy who she believes has usurped her throne.

Dany has always been prone to violence to begin with, but now that she seems to have decided to go full fire and blood, it's not that difficult to figure out how she is likely going to handle Aegon the Sixth. But, I think that the penultimate episode of Game of Thrones may have already explained exactly how that is going to happen.

Like most fans, as soon as any information about the final season of Game of Thrones was released, I thought about what it could possibly be referring to or what it would mean. And one aspect of season 8 that seemed to not quite fit into anything within the rest of the series was the title of the episode "The Bells".

What initially interested me about that name was that not only was it the title for arguably the most important episode in the entire show, but that it referred to something that has a lot of thematic relevance within the books but that has been barely mentioned within the TV series. Bells are mentioned constantly in A Song of Ice and Fire, but they've only gotten a few nods within Game of Thrones. And I was even more surprised that, when the show actually aired, the ringing of the bells didn't seem to be hugely relevant to the episode itself either.

Yes, the bells do seem to trigger Dany's decision to burn the entire city down, but they aren't important before or after that, and when there are so many possible titles that are more connected to the series and the story, it still seems strange that "The Bells" was called "The Bells".

However, while bells are a bit of a perennial theme within A Song of Ice and Fire, I think one particular bell-themed subplot might be the exact history that is going to repeat itself when King's Landing burns to the ground, and I think that Daenerys might defeat Aegon in the second Battle of the Bells.

Jon Connington is another fantastic character who was completely omitted from the TV series, but it's interesting that the most fervent supporter of House Targaryen who was on the front lines fighting for Rhaegar in Robert's Rebellion seems to believe that the war wasn't actually lost in the Trident, but in Stoney Sept when Jon failed to root out Robert Baratheon.

JonCon's perspective on Rhaegar and on the entire war is undeniably warped, and in retrospect House Targaryen's dynasty was always destined to fail. Rhaegar may not have had the violent impulses of Aerys, but a dude who lets the entire realm devolve into chaos because he really needs to impregnate a teenager who is dubiously consenting at best was not going to bring peace and prosperity back to the realm. And in a broader sense, the Targaryen values of isolationism, superiority, subjugation, and consolidation of power seem to indicate that no matter what happened, as long as the Targaryens stuck to their beliefs then they were never going to hold on to the Seven Kingdoms.

But still, it seems incredibly important that Jon Connington believed that the Targaryens lost the Iron Throne in the Battle of the Bells, and it's even more important that he's almost certainly wrong. A Song of Ice and Fire has been pretty consistent in its portrayal of brutality. It has proven to be an effective tool in the short term, but it seems to have disastrous results in the long run. And, given that George RR Martin is an ardent pacifist, it's obvious that JonCon's belief that if he had only been crueler and more violent in Stoney Sept then the war would have been won for House Targaryen is a belief that is bound to be undermined.

The fact that Prince Aegon's greatest Westerosi supporter is so strong in this belief though seems to be an obvious setup for a clash in the future. It seems unlikely that the boy who Varys wanted to be the perfect king would be as brutal as someone like Tywin Lannister, and honestly, most people are not that violent nor do they believe that the only goal is winning no matter the cost.

But, it also seems to be a setup for a clash between Young Griff and Daenerys. After all, while most people wouldn't do absolutely anything to get what they believed was their birthright, Dany absolutely would. She internally justifies every action that she takes in service of getting the Iron Throne, and there doesn't seem to be a limit to the violence that she would excuse if it meant taking what she believes is rightfully hers.

The descriptions of the Battle of the Bells in Jon Connington's POV chapters are all very interesting, and it's telling that even in these few glimpses into his mind, this battle is so vitally important. But, Jon's memories are at their most interesting in the chapter "The Griffin Reborn," when he discusses his failings with Myles Toyne.

Jon tells himself that even Tywin Lannister couldn't have done anything more than what he did, but Toyne disagrees. Blackheart says “Lord Tywin would not have bothered with a search. He would have burned that town and every living creature in it. Men and boys, babes at the breast, noble knights and holy septons, pigs and whores, rats and rebels, he would have burned them all. When the fires guttered out and only ash and cinders remained, he would have sent his men in to find the bones of Robert Baratheon."

And while Myles is undoubtedly right that this is exactly what Tywin Lannister would have done, the particular description of the violence sounds undeniably Targaryen in nature. It literally sounds like fire and blood. And frankly, it sounds pretty close to what Daenerys did in Game of Thrones and is likely to do in King's Landing in A Song of Ice and Fire.

Conceptually, it's actually quite simple. Jon Connington will fight the Battle of the Bells once again, except this time he's going to be on the side of the new Robert Baratheon. If Young Griff is a remotely capable ruler who wins the hearts of the people, then it's entirely believable that the citizens of King's Landing would give him quarter when the dragon queen comes looking for him. And given Daenerys' typical patience level, it seems incredibly likely that Dany would just burn the traitors and find the bones of the usurper in the ashes.

Jon Connington has returned to Westeros operating under the belief that he is going to have to be tougher and more brutal to ensure that Young Griff ascends to the Iron Throne like Rhaegar never did, and to ensure that he's never overthrown like the Mad King was. So then, it would be a pretty perfect twist of fate if everything that Jon believes now winds up being proven wrong and he finds himself and the boy who he has vowed to defend to his last breath relying on the kindness of strangers to hide them from the Targaryen ruler and her armies who are searching for them.

And ironically, Jon will not do what he has set out to do, succeed for the son where he failed for the father, precisely because the enemy that he's facing now will be ready and willing to use the brutality that JonCon originally shied away from in Stoney Sept. If Young Griff and the elder Griffon were actually dealing with a rival who was similar to the younger Jon Connington, someone who wasn't willing to wreak havoc and destruction in order to find their enemy at all costs, then they might have a chance at at least surviving.  

But, because Dany is the type of person who serves up fire and blood to anyone she thinks even might be her enemy, any of King Aegon's protectors will be treated with the brutality that Jon currently believes is necessary to win, and Young Griff will be killed anyway. And of course, while Daenerys will almost certainly win the battle against Aegon the Sixth, her decision to be as violent and swift as possible in order to root out her enemies will also lead to her ultimate downfall and a truly irrevocable end to the Targaryen dynasty.

Thematically, the repetition of past mistakes, the false belief that great violence in service of a supposedly greater good is worthwhile, and the false belief that brutality is strength, all fits in well with A Song of Ice and Fire and George RR Martin's political point of view. But obviously, given that Aegon Targaryen, Jon Connington, and their entire branch of the story was omitted in Game of Thrones, none of this could have ever happened in the TV series. And perhaps the title of the penultimate episode was a subtle nod to the climax that the writers know will be coming in the books.