#is it better than losing instructional time again? also yes

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

Packing ice cubes in an insulated bottle to attempt to schedule the near-inevitable dissociative episode today. We deal with trauma LATER when I don’t have MEETINGS.

[kiwicopia]

MDNI | Themetober: Midnight Ball

Vampire!Sylus x Fem!Reader

CW: Vamp feeding, use of a pet name, praise, sex against a window, licking, biting, begging, cunnilingus, slight orgasm denial, creampie, cock warming.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

Things were never supposed to end up like this. Perhaps if you had listened to the rumors about the ball tonight, you would have left with most of the others that attended the event—or, better yet, never came at all. Still, the rumors of the midnight activities afterwards had piqued a certain curiosity within you, and it couldn’t be helped if you desired to see what all it entailed. Though this may have been more than you bargained for with your curious little mind.

Your nails scraped against the surface of the desk as your eyes burned a hole into the ceiling while another moan was pulled from your lips. Strong arms were looped around your legs, keeping them apart and pinned in place while a tongue lapped at your cunt in slow, methodical movements. “Please,” you begged. “Go faster.” 

His movements ceased for a moment, allowing a few small tuts to be heard before he continued at the same agonizing pace. The tip of the man’s tongue rolled over your clit, sending a sharp pang of pleasure up your body, causing your legs to quiver beneath his hold. Sylus was biding his time with you, tasting all that he could before ruining you, however, he was beginning to find difficulty in his pace. 

Your eyes tore away from the ceiling to look down at him, but all you could see was the fabric of your dress shifting as his head moved beneath it. All of a sudden, his nose rubbed against your bundle of nerves as his tongue delved in between your folds to lick at your insides. The sudden action pulled another moan from your throat while also causing your back to arch from the surge of pleasure that flooded your body further. 

Sylus’ pace quickened, his head bobbing faster the harder his tongue lapped at your insides. He was losing control and falling deeper into his desires, but you never noticed. You were too focused on how good everything felt. The way his nose constantly nudged against your clit, the shake of your legs, and the bubbling of the pleasure that built up within your core. Release wasn’t too far away now, and you hung your head back and released another breathy moan before closing your eyes. “Yes, yes,” you whispered. A small chant that only served to spur him on even more. Faster, faster, so close, so close, almost there, and—. 

The white-hot pleasure you so desperately awaited never came, and the bubbling in your core ebbed away when he suddenly unhooked his arms from around your thighs and stood up. Your eyes snapped open as your confusion etched itself on your face, and your eyes met his shortly after realization hit, and your parted lips closed the second he spoke. 

“Against the window.” It was a demand, and your body obeyed without a single hint of hesitation. Sliding off the polished oak, and with legs a bit shaky from the earlier pleasure, you moved towards the bay window within the study. With knees pressed into the plush pillows beneath you, and hands firmly planted against the glass in front of you, your eyes glanced over your shoulder and at him. “Face forward, kitten, and keep your legs apart,” he instructed. 

Again, your body listened without fail, and your legs parted as the soft clinking of a buckle rang in your ears. A shaky breath fell from your lips when his chest pressed against your back, moving you further up and against the glass window. Sylus’ hands started at your shoulders, with his fingers slipping beneath the fabric and slowly tugging it down before pressing his lips against the soft skin. Tender kisses trailed from the back of your right shoulder and up your neck the more he peeled your dress down, only ceasing when your tits finally spilled out. 

“Pretty girl,” he whispered. His lips parted as his tongue slid out and licked a thick stripe from your pulse point up to the lobe of your ear, earning a soft mewl from you. Sylus chuckled as an arm slid around your waist, allowing his large hand to cup a breast while the other slid to his pants, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. His index finger and thumb tweaked at the nipple, toying with the perky nub until it pebbled. The other hand began to slowly pump himself for a moment, and he groaned softly at the ache that clawed within his abdomen. 

Sylus then gave your nipple a harsh pinch, causing you to cry out from the mixture of pleasure and slight pain before he moved it lower to hike your dress up around your hips. His body shifted behind you, eventually squishing your tits against the window as he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. Realization quickly flashed in your head. “Wait—.” 

The rest of your sentence turned into a sharp gasp when his hips thrusted forward, burying his cock inside your warm cunt inch by inch. Your nails scraped against the glass in an attempt to quell the burning stretch caused by his sheer size. Sylus didn’t whisper any sort of apology as he repeatedly snapped his hips against you, groaning softly in your ear each time your gummy walls pulled at him when he slid back. Greedy little thing, he mused. 

Your head shifted to the side, with your cheek shoved against the glass as moans spilled from your lips the more his cock bullied your slick hole. Sylus watched your eyes grow heavy with lust, half-lidding the more he fucked into you, and he soon pressed his face against your neck. Your delicious scent wafted through his nose, filling him with a different type of need, and it only grew when hearing how wildly your heart thumped in your chest. 

Blood was pumping, and he couldn’t hold himself back any longer—not that he planned to that night. His tongue lapped at the soft flesh covering your pulse point before allowing his fangs to scrape against the skin. Your gasp didn’t go unheard, and he kept you still and in place before letting his fangs dig against your skin once more, this time drawing blood. A primal growl rumbled in his throat the moment the sweet substance touched his tongue. His fingers dug into your hips, holding your wriggling body as still as possible while he both fucked and fed on you. 

The sensation burned at first, what with the way his fangs tore small bits of flesh to procure the sweet ambrosial substance within, however, the burning ebbed away, having been replaced by a soothing and pleasurable warmth that blanketed your body. With your body more pliant now, Sylus continued with his feeding, all while pumping his cock deeper inside you. 

You moaned at the delicious sensation as the pleasure licked at your core. The familiar feeling returned, and your walls squeezed around him the closer it came for you. The vampire groaned again before moving his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against him while also keeping you up against the window. Sylus knew you were reaching the end, and so was he. His cock twitched inside of you each time your walls squeezed around him, coaxing him to simply let go, but he didn’t. Not yet. Not until he heard you say it. His lips detached from your neck as he moved to your ear. 

“Say it,” he growled. “Tell me that you want it inside, kitten.” 

His length shoved itself back into the warm embrace of your cunt, earning a sharp moan from your pretty lips. “Want it,” you replied. “I need it.” The slight whine in your voice was all he needed to finally let himself come undone. 

Sylus’ arms tightened around your waist as he fucked into you one last time, burying himself as deep as possible before spilling into you, painting your insides white with cum. It was enough to finally drive you over the edge. Your sharp cry pierced his ears as your release finally came, causing your legs and thighs to shake against him before going slack. 

“Good girl,” he praised. While still inside of you, the vampire shifted his body around, lifting you up against him as he sat down on the pillows in the bottom of the bay window. Once situated, Sylus carefully maneuvered you around until your chest laid against his. You were worn out, he could tell, and he placed a hand to your neck before letting his thumb gently rub against the spot he fed from. His lips soon curled into a slight smirk as you drifted off on top of him. 

You would never know that he had his eyes set on you the second you entered his mansion, or how he purposely danced with you, staking claim to ward off others of his kind. Sylus had to be thankful for your curious little mind. If not for your desire to know what the activities after a midnight ball were, then he never would have been able to make you his.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt.10]

This part is written for @wisteriavines to 'Bad for Business' by Sabrina Carpenter

Every time Tim thinks there's no further extent of trouble to possibly push, Danny is right there to prove him wrong.

Sitting with him at Potions was one thing. Getting involved with his exploring escapades was another - the Room of Requirement was truly a marvel even if Tim had no use for it. Yet. Because he might have a few ideas about it for later. Getting to know the Weasley twins was on a whole different level: the duo, even if Gryffindor, were simultaneously the best and the worst kind of acquaintances to have. Between them, Lee Jordan - another Gryffindor prankster in training - and Steph and Danny, Tim was really not sure how they've not been expelled yet.

Then, there was Danny's weird sort of friendship with all the ghosts in the castle; they seemed to tolerate the boy far more than they did any other students. Tim decidedly didn't want to know why. Not because he thought Danny wouldn't explain it, no, he totally would, but Tim feared he would go permanently gray or lose his mind afterward, so he didn't risk it.

That's all not to mention Danny's ongoing battle of wits with Professor Snape and his 'purely educational' visits to Professor Kettleburn and Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwats' Gamekeeper. Tim had a strong suspicion that Danny used them both as a free pass into the Forbidden Forest, but, again, what Tim doesn't know he can't lay awake at night and obsessively worry about.

They were really much too different. Danny was all sunshine laughter when Tim liked to keep a two feet radius distance around him. Danny was determined to befriend absolutely everyone in the castle when Tim was perfectly fine spending his time in the quiet company of books. Danny liked to experiment, Tim stuck to the instructions in the book. Danny was more often serving detention after his classes than not, Tim hadn't had one ever since he stepped foot in Hogwarts.

He could go on, but, on the other end of it all, Tim couldn't deny there were also plenty of things similar between them.

They both liked to learn. Not in the nerdy way Tim's seen Ravenclaws do it, seeking knowledge for the sake of knowledge itself; they researched whatever was interesting, diving head-first into any and every topic that sparked their curiosity. They held family above all else - House rivalry be damned, Tim was not ignoring Jason and Dick when they came to check on him, and he cheered for the eldest Wayne during the Quiddich matches. Or, well, he did when Dick was not playing against Slytherin, that is. Danny's sister, Jasmine, was also on the Gryffindor Quiddich team, and Tim has seen the boy cheer for her despite the different Houses as well.

They were both not shy to break the rules - yes, Tim hadn't had one detention for it yet, but that was just because he was loads better at not getting caught. Wayne household was a great training ground for it. Danny, by the looks of it, rarely bothered to cover up his tracks. A Hufflepuff trait, Tim supposed - he took all the credit for what he's done, good or bad.

In any case, over the last four months, all those differences and similarities led to them being far more than simple partners in class or acquaintances. They were friends, and, given Danny's attitude and bluntness, Tim never bothered to hide the fact.

And yet, when on the first day after Christmas break, Danny just sits down beside him at breakfast, Tim drops his fork.

Because, and Tim does look around to make sure, even if he is sure, they are at the Slytherin table.

Cassius stares at them both from across the table, Flint clicks his tongue so loudly that Tim is pretty sure even people at the next table can hear him, and Pucey gives the intruder a vicious glare. But Manson grins like a maniac and immediately switches her seat from opposite of Tim to right on Danny's other side, so it's not all bad. Well, Tim sincerely hopes so.

"Morning," Danny greets everyone, either not noticing the stares or ignoring them completely, which is, honestly, a rather impressive skill. If there's anything Hufflepuffs are better at than every other House, it's their impenetrable cheerful attitude.

"Morning," Tim echoes, when nobody else does. Samantha snorts and elbows Danny from the other side.

"Was it just me, or you haven't graced anyone with presents yet?" She asks in lieu of a greeting, and, actually, that's a good point. Tim had spent his Yule break at Waynes, and he knew Danny wasn't staying at the castle either, even though Sam did. She argued that she didn't want to spend any more time alone with her parents than absolutely necessary. Thinking back to the offensively pink room that Tim still sees in his nightmares sometimes, he thinks he understands why.

In any case, Tim, as the dutiful young Heir he was, has sent Danny's gift - a limited edition potions book he shamelessly took from Drake Manor second library - to him back on Christmas Eve. And hasn't received anything back, aside from a new practice snitch, but that one was signed as 'from Fenton family', not 'from Danny' specifically. So he was also wondering if Danny was saving his own gifts for after break, when he can give them in person.

"Ah, seeing right through me," Danny chuckles and puts his bag on his lap, rummaging through it. "Here you go, now please stop bothering me about it," he rather unceremoniously shoves a poorly wrapped, brown paper package right into Samantha's arms. And then he turns to Tim, his smile brighter than the sun itself, and places something cylindrical, wrapped in cloth and tied with a blue ribbon on the table in front of him, "And this one's for you."

Tim puts his knife and fork down and picks up the present, weighing it in his hand. He's grown to like this kind of game that the Waynes taught him: rather than tearing the wrapping open at the first chance, you take time to appreciate the gift, trying to guess what's inside just by the feel, weight and sound.

It's hard and a little heavy - metal or glass rather than wood. It doesn't make any sounds even when Tim brings it closer to his ear and shakes it a little, watching Danny's eyebrows rise in amusement.

"Is it some sort of container?" He takes a guess, and Danny gives him a slightly startled, but still nice laugh, his eyes sparkling with something warm and maybe excited.

"Yeah, you can say that," he agrees, resting his chin on his palm and leaning on the table. Manson makes a few delighted screeches behind him, but the boy pays her zero mind, focused on Tim.

Tim eyes him carefully, "Promise me it's not going to bite my fingers off or explode in green goo," he demands because, with Daniel Fenton, one can never be too careful. But Danny easily draws a cross over his heart and smiles again, "I swear it's nothing that will cause temporary or permanent damage."

That's as good as it's going to get, Tim guesses, and sets the present back on the table, untying the ribbon. He is great at keeping a straight face, but his fingers are almost literally itching for him to find out what the gift is, and he is barely able to keep his impatience at bay at this point.

It takes him less than three seconds to finally unwrap his late Yule gift, and when he takes the cloth away, it unravels... a jar.

A plain glass jar, sealed with a cork on top and full of... mist? fog?

Tim tilts his head to the side and throws a puzzled look at Danny, but the boy keeps on smiling. Then, he reaches for the jar and taps on the cork on top; not in any kind of pattern, just tap-tap-tap, like he's trying to wake up whatever it is inside the glass.

The mist reacts immediately. It swirls and moves, shimmering in all the colors of blue and silver, and Tim, who still keeps one hand on the jar, suddenly feels the glass becoming warm under his palm.

"Remember you told me how it's always kind of chilly in your common room?" Danny asks from beside him, "I know it makes sense - you're all literally living under the lake - but I thought it might get cold at night, so, here you go, a night light and a portable heater in one jar. No need to recharge or renew charms on it or anything, it's entirely self-sufficient." He sounds proud of it, and Tim thinks that he knows why: this must have taken a lot of effort to make, especially since they are both, well, first-years. Tim's warming charm lasts a little more than two minutes, and he is great at Charms. Danny's warming charm barely works at all.

But this jar is actually giving off a constant, slightly pulsing under Tim's palm heat - kind of like a heartbeat - and the swirls of silver inside are mesmerizing. Before today, Tim thought that Jason's night light was the coolest, showing the replica of the actual night sky on his ceiling. But this is so much better.

And so much warmer. Tim doesn't like the cold, and Hogwarts, being a giant stone castle built way before heating was invented, is not the most comfortable place in winter. Of course, there are loads of charms, spells and runic enchantments that keep the place from freezing, but Tim can't help but shiver sometimes, when the chill still makes its way all the way into his bones.

But the jar in his hands is giving off a steady, soft wave of warmth, and Tim wraps his cold fingers around it, slowly breathing out. It's perfect. Totally worth being a late gift.

He turns to Danny, gratitude on the tip of his tongue, but stops short when the boy meets his eyes. For a moment, Tim thinks that the shimmering blues inside the jar are of the exact same color as Danny's eyes.

But then he blinks, and the illusion is gone.

Although, the warmth stays, and, maybe, it's coming not only from the jar in his hands but also from somewhere deep inside his chest. He can't tell, since wherever it's coming from, it's pulsing in the same, steady rhythm.

"What is it made of?" He asks, bringing the jar closer to his chest.

Danny blinks, seemingly taken by surprise, and looks to the side for a moment, "Ah, um, it's-"

"Will-o-wisp," Manson suddenly cuts in, leaning over Danny's shoulder, her eyes on the jar and her face strangely pinched, "That's a chunk of a ghost's soul you're holding there."

Tim's eyebrows shoot up. And, judging by the sudden pause in the lull of the conversations nearby, not only his. Danny's cheeks become red, which, in contrast with his pale skin, looks like someone used too much blush on him.

"Err, yeah, it is," he confirms awkwardly, "Don't worry, though, the ghost consented, and it's safe, and I, well, I kind of done this before, so it's all fine and you can't return it anyway," he rambles, picking up his bag and standing up, his cheeks, ears and neck still looking like they are a moment away from spontaneously setting on fire. "Merry late Yule, I hope you like it, bye!" And, without giving Tim a chance to reply or react, Danny is already running out of the Great Hall.

Tim turns his confused gaze to Manson. The girl, apparently paying no mind to her friend's weird behavior, is back to assembling a monstrous sandwich. That has no meat or eggs in it, now that Tim is looking closely.

"You're vegan?" He asks before the thought even registers, and he expects her to snap and hiss, just like she always does. But, surprisingly, she doesn't. Samantha Manson only gives him a considering side-glance and shrugs.

"I am. Got a problem with that?" She doesn't look like she is trying to pick a fight. Or, well, not actively, at least.

"No," Tim shrugs and goes back to his own breakfast.

The jar full of a ghost's soul is still pressed closely to his stomach and feels like it's slowly warming him from the inside out.

Tim reminds himself to thank Danny for it later, when he is not running away from the Slytherin table in panic.

—☆—☆—☆—

Breakfast at the Great Hall vibes:

The jar:

[Picrew]

I know it's technically their first day back at school, so they should be having classes after breakfast that day, but when I started writing, I planned for this scene to happen over break, hence, have Tim, Danny and Sam in their more casual wear:

Tim is cold, Danny doodles on his jeans and likes muggle fashion. Also, in the original scene, Sam was off to go to the greenhouses next, hence the overalls and the shirt that she doesn't care for if it gets dirty.

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

Honestly, when I first heard the song, I immediately went 'that's Tim struggling to not feel his immense feelings for Danny', and I was in the process of planning my Hogwarts AU at the time, so it kind of spiraled. It might not be as in line with the song lyrics and vibes as my other game pieces, but god knows I'm in love with this bit. Also, since we are here at this topic, I'd like to say I'm so very grateful to @wisteriavines-side blog for their literal immediate reblogs of whatever I write, it always fills me with warm feelings all over when I see your reblogs. Your side blog is one of the few that I've grown to recognize at first glance and, just, thank you. It's a little thing, but it means a lot <3

Anyway, notes!

It's January now, just past the Christmas break - as you might have guessed from the text lol - and the prankster team has been made fully aware of each other. By that, I mean the twins (the sneaky but loud and boisterous as we all know them), Steph (the innocent who is always incredibly hard to catch in the act), and Danny (pulls the weirdest shit that is technically not against the rules most times and always admits it was him when asked). They rarely ever team up - and everyone prays they don't, it's a recipe for disaster - but they also hold a fair bit of rule-breaking solidarity among them, never ratting each other out.

By this point, Danny has put a pause on his Hogwarts exploration and switched to the grounds around the castle. Everyone is of an opinion he is going to choose Care for Magical Creatures as his elective when the time comes.

Yes, that jar holds a piece of Danny's soul. Yes, Sam knows it - she is great at connecting the dots, and she knows Danny's secret. This is also the moment when she realizes that Danny likes Tim in a very not-friendly manner. She is going to come to terms with it rather quickly, though, because in her mind, that means Tim is no competition for her. He is never going to take her title of 'Danny's best friend', so why bother fighting with him?

On the topic of presents, Danny got Sam a whole bunch of poisonous mushrooms that she kept obsessing over when she came to visit the Febton house - specifically, their garden that's full of all kinds of odd things that don't grow anywhere else. Maddie and Jack refused to give an eleven-year-old a fungae that could quite literally kill her if touched without any protection, but Danny has no such reservations, and he is pretty sure Sam is cautious enough (it's not the first time she is handling something deathly poisonous, not that any adults know that).

[ <- part 9 | part 11 ? ]

P.S. a lot of shit happened in my life recently, so, as of now, this series is on hiatus.

[weebsinstash]

so like in the most awful manipulative evil way possible can you imagine Valentino pulling some outright DEBAUCHED, VILLANOUS shit like making Angel do one of those "ha ha you were blindfolded and your partner isn't who you thought it was" sorta pornos because yes that's an entire genre and for him, the blindfold gets ripped off and it's, ya know, his friend, YOU

and you'd think "oh chicks would be safe though right" WRONG BECAUSE APPARENTLY ON ANGEL'S WIKI IT SAYS HE'LL FUCK WOMEN IF THEY PAY EXTRA also like how does that even work out. Like... dude is a hole a hole for you??? Like with Husker??? I guess being able to withstand sex is different than being actively turned on and desiring but I guess that's pretty sad on his part, he's probably snorting pills and shit to get it up just to get the job done

Also I need to visit genuine nonplatonic yan Angel x male Reader at some point but that's a story for another time. God the absolutely TOXIC potential of poly Val/Angel/Reader like ughhhhh the suffering, throw Vox in there too and you've got just a bunch of toxic codependent horny addicts and then also there's the TV they watch porn on cjfjfnfjr

But like. Valentino just being a MENACE because one or both of you have CROSSED HIM. he wants to punish you both in such a fucked up horrible way that he also wants to get off on and potentially film for himself or profit(and I imagine even outside of this specific scenario, Val would be 500% a voyeur/cuck to some degree and loves watching his toys play together, like didn't he even kinda make Vox strip in a gram post once? Once you're his ho, you're his ho, that certain "I haven't fucked you" type of respect is never regained back)

I just picture. Maybe Angel is blindfolded but he's still in an aggressive dominant role and maybe even instructed to be rough or say really mean shit (slapping you, calling you a whore, demeaning you about how much you're definitely enjoying this) and all he can tell is that his partner is gagged and restrained, and at some point in the most traumatizing post nut clarity possible the blindfold is removed and one of two things happens

1. You were gagged but unlike him WASNT blindfolded so you could see him and cry through your gag and like pointlessly uselessly call for his help and tell him who you are but it doesn't work and that's like part of your punishment

Or 2. You're blindfolded and kept ignorant and Valentino holds this over Angel's head like an atomic fucking bomb. "You better remember this the next time you try to betray me, because I have pleeeenty of nice footage to show your little friend if this happens again"

just saying, I doubt Valentino would even NEED to use Angel's contract to make him behave anymore after getting THAT kind of dirt on him. Angel's SO lonely, and he can't lose his best friend, and also, he couldn't possibly traumatize you even worse like that.... totally not also being potentially selfish and self serving "I can only protect you if you're around me" or some deranged shit... and of course, now Val gets another nice little plaything out of it too, isn't that so nice for him ❤️

[honestlyvan]

CONTROL ANNOTATED: DIDN’T WE JUST DO THIS?

(Also available on Dreamwidth!)

Hi! It’s me and @drdarling again! We wrote the Alan Wake 2 annotation for Ahti’s dialogue! I’m aware there’s been guides like this out for like three years but also I wanted to do it myself in the style of the previous guide, mostly out of curiosity to see how the style of his dialogue has changed because it’s… definitely different :’D

Once again thanks to Saikku and RH for the help with the translations, and once again Finnish is very regional and my translations are just one Finnish reading on what the fuck he is saying. The point here is to demonstrate that Ahti isn’t cryptic, he’s quite comprehensible but he’s also definitely just saying shit to mess with people.

Spoilers for all of Control past this point.

Ahti intro, points Jesse to the elevator:

There you are! You are here about the job. Janitor’s assistant. You need to go to the interview. Go that way to the elevator. Very good. I’m Ahti, the janitor, by the way. You’ll work for me. You can say I sent you. If they don’t hire you, niin johan on helvetti. There be work for the axe, take them behind the sauna, jumalauta.

“niin johan on helvetti” – cursing. “it (sure is/will be) hell” translates broadly to “there will be hell to pay”

“There be work for the axe” – “olla kirveelle töitä”, open-ended threat; something needs rectifying, with force if necessary

“take them behind the sauna” – “vied�� saunan taakse”, “put someone out of their misery”, to execute someone. Saunas are usually built away from the house, so anything happening behind them would not be visible to the main house and yard.

Jesse: Ahti the janitor is a friendly face in my book.

Better than somebody with no face at all. Think about it, no face.

Jesse makes her way down to Ahti’s office in Maintenance:

Well done. You got the job. It’s place for congratulations. Jippii, saatana. (note from Autumn: Very deadpan delivery on this one that makes me lose it every time.) It happened in the last drop. I truly need an assistant.

“Jippii, saatana.” – “Yippee, (saatana)”, loanword from English.

“in the last drop” – “viime tipassa”, common idiom, “in the nick of time”

Jesse asks for help getting to the override to get the lockdown lifted:

Yes, yes. Easy peasy. It’s just around the corner. But first we need to get you working! Very small couple of hours job.

“just around the corner” – interesting case of Ahti using the correct English idiom rather than saying “behind the corner” as we’d say in Finnish.

“Very small couple of hours job.” – not an idiom, but a very common part of ESL English from a Finnish speaker, dropping verbs and particles.

Jesse inner monologues, “Something tells me it’s gonna be more than that.”:

Jahaa, jaa-a, you think there’s a dog buried in this? I can tell you are not a yesterday’s grouse’s son. That’s why you’ll make a great assistant. Very well, I’ll hit the facts on the table. Mä kyllä sanon perkele suoraan että this house has a vermin problem, a bad one. They’ve already messed up the cooling pumps and the power generators of power plant, perkele. And the pensioner inside is starting to feel the band around his head tighten. The situation needs to be fixed before the plant blows up and we all disappear like a fart in Sahara, perkele. But don’t you worry, I’ve left you clear instructions. You’ll catch the end of the thread before I go to my vacation. The works on the task board here you can do later when you have time.

“there’s a dog buried in this” – “koira haudattuna”, common idiom meaning that the situation is not what it seems, or there is a hidden (negative) side to the story being told.

“a yesterday’s grouse’s son” – “eilisen teeren poika”, common idiom, “born yesterday”

“Mä kyllä sanon perkele suoraan että” – “Perkele, I’ll say it (straight, directly), that”

“feel the band around his head tighten” – “vanne pään ympärillä kiristyy”, growing more agitated as the situation gets more serious. Sometimes you also hear “feel the band around the barrel tighten”, about situations that get more stressful before they resolve.

“like a fart in Sahara” – “kuin pieru Saharaan”, common turn of phrase, “into thin air”

“catch the end of the thread” – “langan päästä kiinni”, common saying, understanding the situation, “getting up to speed”

Jesse inner monologues, “Vacation? Right.”:

Yes. No-one's gonna cancel my holiday, or sheaths gonna rattle. But don’t worry at all. You’ll take care of it, and soon this crisis gonna be last winter’s snow. You better go now so you don’t have to run with your head as your third leg. The door in the back leads to the plant.

“sheaths gonna rattle” – “tulee tupenrapinat”, common idiom meaning that there’s going to be an argument or a fight. “The knives will be drawn”.

“last winter’s snow” – “menneen talven lumia”, water under the bridge.

“run with your head as your third leg” – “juosta pää kolmantena jalkana”, common idiom, to be in a rush.

Incidental dialogue hanging around in Ahti’s office throughout:

It’s time for a coffee break soon. Aah, kaffea.

“kaffe” – “coffee”, a Swedicism

Pensioner, yes. Northmoor, mister director. Starting to climb on the walls in his bachelor pad.

“to climb on the walls” – “kiipeillä seinille”, idiom, to act nervous and jumpy, “going spare”

Tango is a window into a Finn’s soul. It came from Suomi Finland. Anyone who says anything else is a lying goat. Perkele.

“a lying goat.” – “valepukki”, idiomatic. What it says on the tin.

(Translator’s note: Ahti is 100% lying when he says this. Autumn confirmed that this is a reference to the Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki talking about Finns inventing tango and sailors taking it to Argentina with them, but unlike Ahti we know he was joking.)

The Bureau is trying to dig a hole in their own cellar, looking for gold. Greedy will have a shitty end.

“dig a hole in their own cellar, looking for gold” – “kaivaa kultaa omasta kellarista”. As far as we can tell, this is not a saying anywhere in Finland, but as always this means it might just be an obscure one.

“Greedy will have a shitty end.” – “Ahneella on paskainen loppu”, a common saying. Exactly what it says on the tin.

Where did I leave my mop again? Pirulauta. Burnout, cosmonaut. I really need a holiday.

“Pirulauta” – “Devil, help me”, more commonly in the form “jumalauta” (god help me). The “devil” referenced in this is not a capital-letter Devil, but rather a folk devil/evil spirit.

“Burnout, cosmonaut” – Not directly a saying in Finnish. “Kosmonautti” gets used the same way “space case” does in English, he is berating himself for his attention slipping.                                             

The Containment Sector has blown to pussy’s splinters. The work won’t end even if you keep doing it.

“pussy’s splinters” – “vitun päreiksi.” “Vittu” is more properly translated as “cunt”, it’s the most common swear in modern Finnish. (Note from Saikku: In Ostrobothnia folks also say "pillun päreiksi", with "pillu" translating literally to "pussy".)

When the time comes, I’m gonna go on my vacation, like dad went into mom.

“like dad went into mom” – “kuin isä äitiin.” Exactly what it says on the tin. (Also not a saying, Ahti is just making a dirty joke.)

You know what’s the worst thing about this vermin? Saatana! The noise! They don’t appreciate good music. And that’s the reason they can go as far as pepper grows.

“go as far as pepper grows.” – “mennä niin kauas kuin pippuri kasvaa”, a common idiom. In essence, “fuck all the way off.”

The first thing I’m gonna do when I get to my vacation is to get drunk. Anyone who doesn’t respect that can go to hell’s spruce tree. Sausages on eyes. A drop won’t kill you and you can’t drown in a bucket.

“hell’s spruce tree” – “helvetin kuuseen”. This is a mistranslation from Ahti, since the more appropriate translation would be “to the backforests of hell”. Also, in essence, “fuck all the way off”.

“Sausages on eyes.” – “nakit silmillä”, common idiom, “extremely drunk”

“A drop won’t kill you and you can’t drown in a bucket.” – “Ei tippa tapa ja ämpäriin ei huku”, a reference to a pop song by Irwin Goodman of the same name about drinking lots of booze.

The Research Sector is the worst. The doctors don’t know how to clean after themselves. That Arish fellow is not a useless guy. Respects his elders. Makes good coffee. Yep yep. The janitor is the one who makes everything running and under control.

What A Mess: Burn The Trash dialogue:

Yep. Burn the trash. Throw it in the fire. Burn it all. Burn it into a reindeer, not into a moose.

“Burn it into a reindeer, not into a moose.” – (Translator’s note: *drags hands over face*) The word for ashes/cinders, “poro”, is a homonym with the word for reindeer, also “poro”. It’s a play on words.

Ahti dialogue on The Clog:

My old enemy, the Clog, is blocking the pipes. You need to deal with that shit. He’s my very old enemy, the clog, Paska.

“Paska” = shit

He’s very clever, he’s trying to sneak in. We got him caught with his hand in the fish trap. Get rid of him.

“caught with his hand in the fish trap” – “jäädä rysän päältä kiinni”, a common idiom. “Get caught with your pants down”.

It’s back. What would kill a bad thing? Paska mikä paska.

“What would kill a bad thing?” – “Mikä pahan tappaisi”, a common turn of phrase. What it says on the tin.

“Paska mikä paska” – “The shit is what it is.”

Ahti dialogue while fixing the power plant:

Broke. Gone to shit. Fix it fast. If the plant goes boom, we can throw the spoon in the corner.

“Gone to shit.” – “mennyt paskaksi”, translates directly.

“throw the spoon in the corner” – “heittää lusikka nurkkaan”, idiomatic, “buy the farm.” (This is a slightly odd translation to me, as it is being used more in the same sense as “throw in the towel”, creating the implication that dying in huge explosions is voluntary.)

It’s fried up. You need to fix it before the old twig-pants inside the plant has a shit-fit.

“the old twig-pants” – “vanha vihtahousu”, idiomatic. Broadly “that old devil”, in Finnish it’s common to have many names for evil or just strong spirits, because calling them by their proper name invites them to come bother you. (“Vihtahousu” gets translated in AW2 as “Ol’ Scratch”)

“shit-fit” – “paskahalvaus”, interesting case of a missed opportunity for a funny Finnicism in the form of “shit-stroke/shit-arrest”

Ahti dialogue while clearing darkness:

Darkness everywhere. New day, same old bloody shit, said the old lady. Like tar, but good for nothing. Get rid of it!

“New day, same old bloody shit, said the old lady.” – “Uusi päivä, samaa vanhaa paskaa, sanoi vanha täti.” This is not an idiom, but the “x, said y” format is a common one for proverbs, and a common way for people to quote wisdom from their family.

Ah, tar. Sauna, tar and booze, they’ll get you through anything! Like the winters in Finland. Long dark winters. As dark as in a sack, perkele.

“Sauna, tar and booze, they’ll get you through anything!” – this is a paraphrase of a saying that goes “if sauna, tar and booze doesn’t cure it, the disease is lethal”.

“As dark as in a sack” – “pimeää kuin säkissä”, common turn of phrase, what it says on the tin.

Ahti dialogue while cleaning up Mold:

The air in here is getting bad. The vents, they are full of mold-shit. It’s no good for you! Headache, nausea, mold-lung... Depression, but how can you tell when you’re a Finn? Helvetin home, eikö siitä nyt saatana pääse eroon.

“Helvetin home, eikö siitä nyt saatana pääse eroon.” – “(Helvetin) mold, is there really no way to get rid of it, (saatana)!” The sentence is in passive voice (“Can it not be gotten rid of”) which gets used in Finnish a lot to refer to ongoing problems.

You need to scrub that clean or there goes my reputation and honor. And then the good won’t swing.

“reputation and honor” – “maine ja kunnia”, common turn of phrase. The “honour” here does not mean personal honour, but rather community reputation.

“the good won’t swing” – “ei hyvät heilu”, common turn of phrase, usually used to threaten someone akin to “you’ll be sorry.”

More of it! This thing is completely leaving from the mitten. Perkele, saatana, helvetin helvetti. Loma tulossa ja tällästä paskaa.

“leaving from the mitten” – “lähteä lapasesta”, common idiom, “get out of hand”.

“Loma tulossa ja tällästä paskaa.” – “The holidays are coming and (we have to deal with) this kind of shit.”

Ahti dialogue while taking care of the plants:

They are very good listeners, you can tell them anything. Or you can sing to them. They like that.

For the plants in Investigations:

The plants in here have died standing up. Piruparat. Lighten them up!

“died standing up” – “kuolleet pystyyn”, common turn of phrase that gets used about neglected plants a lot.

“piruparat” – “poor devils”, again with the small first letter, referencing folk devils and evil spirits.

Ahti tells Jesse to take a break:

Hurry is not good for you. And the contract says you can take a break. Ten points and a parrot patch. Now you know what this job is all about. Could be worse. There are good benefits.

“Ten points and a parrot patch” – “kymmenen pistettä ja papukaijamerkki”, common turn of phrase, “ten points and a gold star”. Comes from an old children’s show called “Sirkus Papukaija” (“Circus Parrot”)

When you’re done with all the tasks:

Tattis! A crazy person works hard, and a wise person gets away with less. Happy vacation to me!

“Tattis” – “thank you”, a Swedicism

“A crazy person works hard, and a wise person gets away with less.” – “hullu huhkii, viisas pääsee vähemmällä”, a proverb about working smarter, not harder.

Here, have a little knick-knack as a thanks from me. Not too owly at all!

“Not too owly at all!” – “ei pöllömpi”, idiomatic, here meaning “impressive” or “well done”.

Ahti goes on vacation:

Now this boy left, said the son of Annikki Tähti. My assistant will keep work in the glove and the house standing. Lomille lomps, holiday homps.

“Now this boy left, said the son of Annikki Tähti.” – (Translator’s notes: *long pained groan*) This is a strange half-pun, half reference. The phrase usually shows up in Finnish as “nyt meikä lähti, sanoi Annikki Tähti” (“I’m leaving now, said Annikki Tähti”, a famous Finnish iskelmä singer who is not relevant to the phrase other than to create alliteration). Ahti is doubling up on the alliteration and saying complete nonsense as a result.

“keep work in the glove and the house standing” – “homma hanskassa ja tupa pystyssä”, common idiom, what it says on the tin.

“Lomille lomps, holiday homps.” – “Lomille lomps/lompsis” is a persistent popculture reference that lives on among Finnish conscripts and the rest of the culture. Ahti’s translation is quite accurate, although “lomps/lompsis” can be used as an onomatopoeia for stepping into a puddle/swamp, while “homps” means nothing. Alliterative jokes like this are common in Finnish.

Dialogue during Finnish Tango when you first enter the Ashtray Maze:

Broke. There is no way through. Badly made. Wolf shit. Somebody cut costs in the wrong place. Contact the janitor if you need to get through.

“Wolf shit” – “susipaska”. The word for wolf, “susi” is idiomatically used to mean broken, flawed or unusable, and is here a modifier for “paska” rather meaning the droppings of the animal.

Jesse contacts Ahti in The Foundation:

Aah. Aijai. Vikingit saatana. Ei kestänyt ruottalaisen veljekset kunnon löylyjä.

“Aijai” – Filler phrase. Literally means “ouch/ouchie”, but can be used to signal appreciation.

“Vikingit saatana. Ei kestänyt ruottalaisen veljekset kunnon löylyjä.” – “(Saatana), them vikings. The Swedish brothers couldn’t stand a proper löyly.” “Löyly” is both the steam from throwing water on the stove in a sauna, and the humid warmth that follows from “throwing löyly”. Ahti is making fun of the Andersons for not tolerating a hot sauna. It’s a very common shot across the border for Finns to say Swedes don’t tolerate “real” löyly. (Translator’s note: Ahti is using “ruottalaisen” rather than “ruotsalaiset”, as is typical of the Ostrobothnian dialect)

Hey, girl. For a Finn, holiday is holy, perkele.

“holiday is holy” – The word for any nationally mandated day off (+ Sundays) is “pyhäpäivä”, literally “holy day”. Extended national holidays, such as the three days around Christmas, and even long weekends can be called “pyhät”, the holies.

Did you miss me? Did you have piss in your sock? Yes. Now now now now. Bark don’t make a wound. You did good. Take my cassette player. You can borrow it. The song is a present from my friends to you. It will get you through the maze so you can do your job.

“piss in your sock” – “kusi sukassa”, common idiom, meaning “frozen with fear”

“Bark don’t make a wound.” – “ei haukku haavaa tee”, common proverb, “sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me”

Ahti in Jesse’s Hiss nightmare:

Are you sure you are not lost? Maybe you can find yourself in the Director’s Office. You should keep trying. You are getting closer. Welcome back. I knew I chose a good assistant.

Closing notes: Despite Ahti having significantly less dialogue in Control than he does in AW2, this document ended up nearly as long as the other one. All the way through working on this I’ve been commenting on how his English is both weirdly better and worse in AW2, like, his use of English overall is a lot less stumbling and his vocabulary seems larger, but at the same time he uses less English, relies on just directly saying in Finnish what he’s thinking, using a lot more filler Finnish… It’s an interesting choice overall.

I’m not sure it’s relevant to the character, but having seen it I’m now gonna be very interested to hear what he sounds like if he shows up in Control 2 or other relevant RCU projects :3c Hope you had fun, and maybe learned something new.

[my-deer-friend]

Oh, I'm after reading some letters you recommended me to read from Henry Laurens Papers! Thanks to this reading his bio is much better because I actually know how MUCH pressure Henry Laurens put on his oldest son. 

John was constantly reminded about Virtue and poor boy was so scared of losing his father acceptance, he letters to him are so heartbreaking and you can feel how unhappy he was with some choices to make his father HAPPY.

I'd be very interested in what specifically you found heartbreaking, and which choices you're referring to, if you'd like to share!

In either case, I want to encourage you to resist a one-sided interpretation of letters like that and keep the broader context in mind.

Yes, Henry was a strict father – but he was not vastly more strict than others at the time. As a single parent, he had the duty of ensuring his children would be set up for success in the world that they lived in. The things that he encouraged John to do – live frugally, choose a financially viable career, build a positive public reputation, practice the virtues and behaviours of a gentleman, prioritise his family – were very much in John's interest, and importantly, John aspired to many of those things too.

Henry's advice and directions lined up with societal expectations for young men at their time. You can certainly make the case that he held John to a higher standard than other sons in their orbit, but he also gave John a lot of freedom to make his own choices – such as in his education and his career – and trusted him to make those decisions for Harry and Jemmy too. Again, whether it was entirely fair to give him that degree of responsibility is something we can discuss, but we also shouldn't ignore that John was largely equal to the challenges, and he had support as well (financially from his father, and more generally from his uncle and aunt, the Mannings, and other friends of the Laurens family).

The other thing to remember is that, from 1776 onwards, Henry believed there was a very real chance that he would be killed for taking part in the American rebellion, and his entire fortune lost – so it would be up to John to play a pivotal role in supporting his family financially and societally. Was it unfair? Probably yes. Was it their reality at the time, despite whatever Henry or John may have wanted? Also yes. In either case, John made his own decision and returned to America against Henry's wishes, and Henry supported his choice, even though he disagreed with it.

I'm not trying to say that Henry was a perfect father; like any parent, he had his own biases, ideas about proper conduct, "old-fashioned" notions, and – because he was a product of his society's norms – expected his children to obey his instructions (at least before they came of age). At the same time, he encouraged John to make the most consequential decisions for himself. I don't think Henry would have been "happy" if John had made himself entirely miserable for the sake of gratifying him; equally, Henry would not have been a good father for his time if he'd just let John do whatever he wanted, and neglected to give him a framework of virtues and morals to live by. We need to keep in mind which standards we are judging a set of actions by.

[loquarocoeur]

currently smiling like an idiot at my laptop screen because the way you write makes me insane & I just!! 😭 I love them and I love LOVE and I love ur writing and UGH

I don't even know what to say, that chapter was just utterly perfect, the perfect ending, the perfect vibe, the perfect ambience, the perfect everything 🥺

I just love the way they talk to each other, the constant bickering and back and forth and their softness and chatter and as much as I love max being unable to do anything but whine like the little bottom bitch he is I loved him being coherent and him talking with Charles & helping Charles feel good and oughghuoughghgu

(the 'no u come' 'no U COME' argument was perfect, actual gold)

shoutout to nipple orgasm anon bc that champagne bottle to the nipples was so hot thank you for giving Alex those particular brain worms

it was just so beautiful and precious and sexy and !!!!!!

 “I’d be so happy for you I’d embarrass myself more than I ever have in my life.” godgodGOD 😭 shut the fuck up right now. like right the fuck now. I somehow had never considered how it'd be in the yours verse when Charles eventually gets the wdc and holy fuck I somehow am even mORE desperate for it if that's even possible. ferrari girl. you. better. work. bitch.

(also im ngl whenever u write charles losing his mind and uncontrollably grinding into the mattress. I also lose my mind and die. because fuck me its hot I can't take it acktually. u are responsible for my murder. something about it specifically just gets me. just like fuck one day when Charles is being a mopey bitch because maybe max has been gone for a while (lbr 2 days) and calls max to be whiny and soppy and 'maaaax I love you cheri. baby. honey. darling. please come home' and ofc it eventually becomes phone sex and maybe Charles was already laying on the bed or something and he imagines all of max's noises are happening right above him like normal. maybe he puts the phone speaker on the pillows and he slides down the mattress a bit. he forgets he can just touch himself normally and he isn't responsible for touching max to get him off for once and so he just absentmindedly just starts rocking and grinding and moaning into the duvet while he's instructing max on what to do and talking him through it and he doesn't really become totally cognisant of it until max has come first and then he goes Oh. because he's just so used to focusing on max first and just didn't even consider properly touching himself.)

thank you as ever for your brain ♥️ 🦢

~ swanon

(who maybe also has been feeling silly amounts of happy the whole day that your response to my returning ask was so cute and made me go :) smth smth I love u all and knowing u all like my asks and general presence makes me want to sob w joy every time💕💕💕)

Asdfghjkl thank you yes you get them they're so in love!! ANd Ferrari better work, I agree

Also yes??! You are so right?! I love your brain I've been meaning to write phone sex again forever

Swanon, you are one of this blog's crown jewels, we love you so much, please never die❤️

[iamvegorott]

Busy Birthday

I was celebrating my grandma’s birthday on Henrik’s birthday, so we’ll pretend I wrote this on time XD ----------

Busy Birthday

“And I did like a really cool jump from one building to the other and an even cooler jump to the next building’s fire exit stairway…thing.” Jackie used his other hand to gesture while Henrik held the other. “And then I saw a bus going where I wanted to, so I figured I could hitch a ride when it stopped at the stop. I did like a totally wicked launch from the rail and the-uh-the bus...”

“The bus moved, and you landed on the ground?” Henrik suggested the ending of the story, wrapping the last bit of the thin brace to Jackie’s wrist. Thankfully, nothing broke, but there was enough of a sprain that it would need extra support for the next day or so. 

“Yeah,” Jackie confessed. 

“You are very lucky that you did not shatter your bones. You may heal quickly, Jackie, but injuries still hurt.” Henrik used a scolding tone. 

“I was being all safe and stuff. I just didn’t plan for the bus to not follow its routine.” Jackie pursed his lips in a bit of a pout. 

“New rule, no more using buses as landing pads,” Henrik stated.

“But-”

“Yes, you can still jump off of them. I am willing to compromise. But if you get hurt again, you will also lose that privilege. So be careful."

“Will do!” Jackie stood up and gave a little two-fingered salute.  

“I want you to take it easy for a little bit. Come back to me tomorrow morning, and let me give your wrist another look,” Henrik instructed.

“Got it!” Jackie started to leave but stopped and turned, suddenly yanking Henrik into a way-too-tight hug. “Happy birthday!” 

“Need air.” Henrik wheezed.

“Oh! Sorry!” Jackie quickly let Henrik go. 

“Thank you, and thank you for the birthday wishes.” Henrik waved Jackie off when he tried to check that he didn’t break anything.  

“I’ll see ya later!” Jackie grinned and then took off this time. “Sorry!” He repeated an apology after almost running into Marvin. “I-why is your arm wrapped in a towel?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Go do your hero stuff.” Marvin shooed Jackie away as he slipped into Henrik’s office, closing the door behind him. 

“Why is your arm covered in a towel?” Henrik echoed Jackie’s question. 

“I didn’t wanna scare whoever else might have been in here,” Marvin said as he unwrapped the towel. The second Henrik saw blood, he took over.

There were small pieces of glass in Marvin’s arm. Nothing looked too deep. Some tweezers for the glass, cleaning off the blood, and a handful of bandages would do him all well. These Septiceyes really needed to count their blessings that their skin didn’t scar after healing, regardless of how long or short that process was.

“How in the world did this happen?” Henrik asked, leading Marvin to sit down so he could get to work. 

“I might have mismeasured the heat of a potion, and the glass couldn’t handle it,” Marvin muttered a bit, not looking the most pleased about his admission. Always annoyed when one of his projects didn’t go to plan. 

“I am going to jinx us by telling you that you are also very lucky,” Henrik noted that none of the injuries were on the underside of the arm, allowing him to prop it on the counter and prevent Marvin from getting tired of holding it up.

“It is your birthday, so maybe that’s giving us some extra luck today,” Marvin suggested with a chuckle, looking up at the ceiling and flinched a little with some of the glass removal. 

“A sprained wrist and an arm embedded with glass is lucky?” Henrik had a little laugh with his scoff. 

“Better than a broken wrist and an amputated arm.” 

“Do not give the universe any ideas.” 

“Hey, Hen, you got any ice packs?” Chase asked as he walked in and went straight for the small freezer tucked away in a corner. 

“I do. Why?” Henrik asked, beginning to clean off the blood from Marvin’s arm, double-checking for any remnants of glass as he did so. 

“JJ was doing the dishes, and Anti tried to spook him because he’s bored and, well, JJ was working on a frying pan and-” Chase pantomimed what looked like swinging a bat, popping his lips as well.  

“Does he need to come see me?”

“Nah, he’s more pouty than anything. The ice is like a precaution or something. My money is on Anti wanting it to add to his pout.” 

“That does sound about right for him.” Marvin rolled his eyes. 

“You say that like you don’t pout all the time.” Henrik chuckled. 

“I do not-”

“Yes, you do.” Chase and Henrik said in unison. 

“See? Exhibit A.” Chase gestured at Marvin’s face. 

“I will bite you,” Marvin stated.

“Gotta go, bye.” Chase quickly turned and left the room, knowing the warning would be a promise if he stayed. 

“So much for having a lucky birthday.” Henrik did one more look before beginning to bandage up Marvin’s arm. 

“I feel like Anti getting smacked with a frying pain is pretty lucky for us,” Marvin said with a cheeky grin. 

“I have nothing to say.” 

“Admit it, it’s kind of funny.”

“Maybe a little.” Henrik’s smirk with his confession got Marvin to laugh. “Do not tell him that, or I will never hear the end of it.” He added, getting the last bit of bandage on. 

“My lips are sealed.” Marvin did a zipping motion across his mouth. 

x~x~x

After finishing his work with Marvin, Henrik spent some time updating his files, noting down what he had done that day. He always kept a good record of all injuries for the Septiceyes. If there was a case of a repeat injury, Henrik could rely on previous notes to recall what was average and what stood out as an anomaly. 

“Hen! Hen! Hen!” Jackie called out as he sprinted into the office. 

“Please tell me someone else has not-” Henrik got cut short as Jackie grabbed his arm, and the next thing the poor doctor knew, he was across Jackie’s shoulders and being walked out of the room. “What is the meaning of this!? Put me down this instant!” 

“Jackie, when I said to get Henrik, I didn’t mean to fireman carry him.” Marvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh…” Jackie held out the word. “Sorry.” He added as he placed Henrik back on the ground. 

“Can I have an explanation for-why is there a pile of pillows and blankets on the couch?” Henrik felt like he was going to get a headache with how often his brain was forced to jump thoughts before he could finish one. 

“It’s a throne!” Jackie perked up, bouncing over to stand next to Marvin, gesturing toward said ‘throne’ with both arms. 

“A…throne?” Henrik echoed. 

“It’s a comfortable seat for you to enjoy the rest of your birthday without any more worries,” Marvin explained. 

“We felt bad you had to do work on your birthday,” Jackie added. “So you’re going to sit and chill.” 

“That sounds like I do not have a choice,” Henrik said.

“You don’t.” Chase came into the room with a mug in his hand. “Now you either sit on your own, or Jackie will make you.” 

“I am sitting, I am sitting.” Henrik held up his hands as he sat down on the throne of pillows. “Oh…this is actually very nice.” 

“Of course it is,” Jackie said with a puff to his chest. 

“And people say I’m prideful.” Marvin teased. 

“You are.” Henrik and Chase spoke together.

“You two need to stop that.” Marvin huffed.

“Nah.” Chase chuckled, giving Henrik the mug of coffee and the TV remote. He bent over and pulled a lever that pushed out the bottom of the couch, putting Henrik's feet up. “And you, Hen, are now only allowed to get up for the bathroom. If you need anything, text one of us.” 

“I guess I can handle doing this for a good while.” Henrik sipped his coffee. 

“Have fun~” Marvin sang as he, Jackie, and Chase left the room.

“Such an interesting family I have.” Henrik chuckled to himself, a soft smile on his lips as he sighed happily and relaxed on the couch. 

[mdhwrites]

There's something I don't understand... since the Collector (or one of his siblings) trapped the owl beast in the scroll, but couldn't the Collector remove Eda's (and by extension, Lilith's) curse and free the owl beast from her body since he's basically a young god? Even if they insist on treating the curse like a chronic illness, it wouldn't have hurt to mention it since it just seems like a plot hole.

So the only time this would matter would be in the epilogue. Otherwise, the Collector is never on Eda and Lilith's side and so doing a kindness of that sort for them wouldn't make sense. Maybe taking it away to depower them while the Collector is ruling the Isles but that's frankly more work than just turning them into a puppet. Should he have done it at the end? Eeeeh. I think the creators reasonably decided that Harpy Lilith would be a flashier way that more fans would want to see as a resolution to the curse than simply getting rid of it. It also allows those who see it as a disability or chronic illness to not just have a god whisk away those issues but instead see how these characters are thriving in spite of it. Not that I'm too happy with the allegory in the end with the Harpy forms, I'd rather be rid of my own disability frankly than pretend it's a superpower but *shrug*.

I wouldn't call this a plot hole though. Nothing is actively contradicting this point or is missing from the logic of the show's events to justify it as one. That's what causes plotholes after all. When something actively goes back on what it has shown or done or blatantly changes the rules of reality for what it wants to do. I would personally argue that TOH's biggest plotholes either go to A: Why the fuck was Belos able to make a portal out of a stone arch and Titan's Blood and LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE and it worked better somehow than the explicit instructions that he himself left on how to make a portal door? There's just a LOT of levels of bullshit and contradictions that we're never going to get an explanation for. B: "How do we stop this draining spell that kills people by feeding on their magic?" "I know! Let's mix it with a curse that turns people into monsters by feeding on and corrupting their magic!" And then everyone should have just stared at whoever offered that idea before immediately moving on with the meeting like nothing had happened and that person hadn't said anything. And yes, it's trying to play off of Eda's Requiem but in that, I never got the feeling of "This weakened the spell," I got the feeling of "OH! This made it so she has a disintegration spell!" because let's face it: Her and Raine's spell was not WEAKER than anything else Raine could do. Not if it was their only option to nullify, stop and then murder two coven heads who were actively trying to find them.

God this show's writing got stupid. Then again, in both cases you have plot holes that exist because, well... The show wrote itself in a corner. The show spent so much time on Belos' backstory and on Hunter and Lumity in S2 that they hadn't actually come up with a real way to stop The Day of Unity. Even if you do want to use Eda's Requiem as an excuse, they also have to retcon in that same scene the fact that Darius, Eber and Raine can't just sit out the ceremony anymore like they had previously established, making the one way they HAD established to beat it not matter anymore, even though Odalia could have just told Luz about an off screen raid that was happening on the CAT's hideout and effectively nothing changes except Eda doesn't lose an arm. The other is of course the portal. The portal not working immediately is a cool idea but one they don't explore AT ALL. And it presents the obvious problem of "Okay, what was the missing piece?" Yes, Belos theoretically knows that piece but even his Isles door looked like it needed a lot of extra elements to function and work properly that let you assume that what Luz had gotten before was a prototype door, not the real thing. But... Then it's literally just a stone archway and liberal application of Titan's Blood because Belos is a monster and can't have gotten the materials for a proper door anymore. What leads to these moments in both cases aren't bad ideas but they're also stepping away from the fantasy genre without knowing why the genre uses these tropes. Why can't you just remove one of the things necessary for the villain to win is a common problem for a lot of fantasy stories and most are just smart not to EVER BRING IT UP because of it. Magic working on the first try may not make sense but it means that there isn't further experimentation that's required, or the spell only works once before devouring itself or the like, a trope TOH even played into because suddenly the door required more Titan Blood every time it was opened and yet the key isn't fully drained after probably hundreds of years. It's all a part of that feeling of TOH wanting to be smarter than it's writers are. At least for this genre.

[nancypullen]

Whatcha' Doing?

I eased into Sunday morning (that reminds me of a Lionel Richie song) and plan to spend the day doing as I please. The house is mostly clean. I could mop, but why would I? I need to dust in our bedroom, but what's one more day? I'm declaring this a day of rest and relaxation. I may toodle into Easton and treat myself to a lipstick at Ulta or hit the Target Halloween section and see what needs to come home with me. Or maybe not. I'm feeling lazy. I'm also feeling frugal- do I need a new lipstick? No. Do I need Halloween decor? Well, yes, but I won't die without it. It would just make me very, very happy. Better stay home. We'll probably go walk through the auction house and see what treasures are on the block this week. I saw this pretty cupboard on their website. It would be nice in the grandgirl's room but I'd have to get rid of her reading fort to make space and she's not ready for that. I'll let someone else love it.

Speaking of loving things, I'm still in a one-sided romance with my pumpkin plants. They look so healthy and beautiful and I just know they'll break my heart. According to experts, this stuff is a must.

I've grown pumpkins successfully in the past without using it, but I'm not taking any chances this year. Yesterday I gave them all a good drink and marked the calendar. I'll do that every two weeks as instructed, and send a plea to the universe to give me pumpkins. Once there are blooms I'll probably have to get out there with a paintbrush and pollinate them myself. If these things fail it won't be from lack of effort on my part.

Lack of effort....that made me think of my hair. It always comes back to my hair, doesn't it? *sigh* After getting several inches cut off a couple of weeks ago I keep hearing, "It must be easier." No, it's not. My hair is never easy to beat into submission. In fact, length and weight make it slightly easier. Without weight my hair springs into action, ready to fight me. Losing a lot of hair does make my drying time a bit shorter, so I like that. I'm okay with it at this point, but I'll never be in love with my hair. Having said all of that, and accepting that it is what it is, I had a moment on Friday evening that made me want to shave my head. I was invited to dinner with a group of women that I like. They range in age from late twenties to mid-sixties. We cover every bit of the maiden-mother-crone span. I can't say that I have a lot in common with any of them, but there's something to like about each and every one. I was comfortable, relaxed, having a nice time...when someone mentioned my haircut. I agreed that, yes, I'd taken off a lot of length (every woman there has long hair) and that I've decided to stop coloring. One exclaimed that now I look like Paula Deen and they all agreed.

Paula. Deen. I'm not knocking her, I just don't want to look like her. The sad part is that I think they're right.

I just can't win at this hair game, y'all. Did I mention that not one, not two, but three different library patrons told me that I remind them of Dolly Parton? I just don't see it. A large bust and a massive amount of blond hair, sure -but not a single similar feature otherwise. I love Dolly, but I do not swan around town in sequined jumpsuits with my hair teased to the heavens. Why would anyone say that? Prior to getting my hair cut I entertained the thought that I'd just let it get even longer and spend the rest of my years with a long white braid. I'll bet if I did that people would tell me I'm a dead ringer for Willie Nelson.

Not gonna' lie, I think I look more like Willie than Paula. Maybe folks should just keep their unflattering comments to themselves. There's a thought. From auctions to pumpkins to hair, once again I've taken you on a tour of the construction zone that is my brain. Piles of rubble, some stuff half finished, but there's always a plan. A loose plan, and subject to change, but still a plan. Before I wrap up this nonsense, I'll share what I'm reading. Haven't done that in ages and so far this book is interesting enough to share. I say "so far" because I'm only a couple of chapters in.

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • NAMED A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR SO FAR FOR 2024 BY THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW • A “thrilling and superbly crafted” (The Wall Street Journal) account of the most momentous voyage of the Age of Exploration, which culminated in Captain James Cook’s death in Hawaii, and left a complex and controversial legacy still debated to this day. “Hampton Sides, an acclaimed master of the nonfiction narrative, has taken on Cook’s story and retells it for the 21st century.”—Los Angeles Times

I really enjoy non-fiction and I'm sometimes embarrassed by what I don't know, or should have already learned. This is a fascinating account of someone we've all heard of, read about, but I had stored away only basic facts in my brain. Very interesting! This is where I'll leave you. It's time for a little Sunday lunch and then we'll mosey over to the auction house. Hope I find treasure. I'm sending out loads of love and wishing you a relaxing and peaceful Sunday. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[swiftsaltsweet]

The Hunt for Kyoshi: Chapter 3- Motivations

Characters: Rangi and Kyoshi (plus whoever appears in Rok)

Pairing: Rangshi

Summary:  

“What are we going to do?” She asked steely, still not looking up from the ground. She was ready to uphold her duty, or at least, what remained of it. “We need you to capture Kyoshi,” Jianzhu instructed. “Capture?” “Yes, we need to set an example of an Avatar murderer,” Jianzhu responded, oh so matter of factly again.

(Canon Divergent AU- “What if Rangi wasn’t there when Kyoshi ran away, and Rangi had to hunt her down?)

Prev chapter

Other Sites: AO3 and Fanfic.net

A/N: Sorry this one is so short, I literally have nothing else to add to it (esp considering the canon convo that already took place, I just didn't want it to feel redundant).

______

Jianzhu walked into his gallery where he had left Hei-Ran, who was still pacing the same line he had left her in when Rangi left the estate. He'd excused himself from her presence to write out a quick message to Rangi, to fill in the gaps she was missing, and to make sure she was set with whatever she needed to bring Kyoshi back.

He hadn't expected the girl to lose control as she did; running off without getting all the information and supplies he was preparing for her. But Jianzhu had chosen to look at the incident in a more positive light, he really admired Rangi's ability to take the initiative and not waste time.

If she was really as good as everyone said, then it may be possible for them to get Kyoshi back within a fortnight at most!

Hei-Ran only noticed he had entered the room when she heard the door shut. She looked up and marched out of her trench straight over to Jianzhu, and slapped him.

Jianzhu had expected the reaction, in all honesty he was lucky she hadn't set fire to the estate. Firebending mothers can just be so dramatic.

"She's going to be fine, Hei-Ran," Jianzhu rubbed his jaw, sore from the second slap he'd received from Hei-Ran within the past twenty-four hours. The first time was when he told her his first version of events with Yun, Kyoshi, and Kelsang. This time, it was for holding her back from chasing after her daughter. Or maybe it was also for making her lie to her daughter? To be completely honest, both went hand in hand.

"How can you say she's fine when she looked-" Hei-Rang closed her eyes and looked away, unable to finish the sentence. Jianzhu understood it probably hurt a mother seeing their daughter like that. Grieving…and unstable.

"She's fine," he repeated to his old friend.

"She seemed out of control, Jian."

"She's….motivated."

"She looked like she wanted to kill Kyoshi! Not capture her!" Hei-Ran waved her hands at him for emphasis.

"She won't do that, it would go against her duty. Her mission. Her honor!"

Hei-Ran slapped him again. Maybe he shouldn't have said the last bit?

"Don't you dare speak of honor! Of her honor!" She bellowed at him. Yeah, it was definitely the last part. "And how dare you speak as if you know my daughter better than I?!"

Jianzhu put his hands up in surrender. "You're right, I was out of line."

Hei-Ran took a step back, her fist clenched, but she seemed to accept his apology to some degree. "We shouldn't have lied to her."

Jianzhu frowned, he thought he finally made her see reason. Why they'd have to lie to Rangi, but apparently she needed a reminder. "Hei-Ran, remember, we need Kyoshi back here. That girl isn't thinking straight, she's blaming us for something outside our control."

He put a delicate hand on Hei-Ran's shoulder, and guided her to a chair and sat her down. He had to appear sympathetic, not that he wasn't. He was very understanding for his friend. He knew how hard it was for a parent to see their child go through such an arduous mental strain.

He had felt a similar feeling when Yun couldn't firebend.

"If we told Rangi the truth, how Kyoshi is the Avatar and she ran away under a misconception. Do you think she wouldn't run away with her? It's her duty to look after the Avatar, regardless of whatever asinine decisions they make." He rubbed a hand down his face in exasperation. "Remember Kuruk?"

Hei-Ran flinched at their old friend's name, and a deep frown creased her lovely face. Possibly remembering one of their botched adventures.

"Kyoshi is floundering, she doesn't know what decisions to make, let alone the right ones. And Rangi will nobly follow her because it's her duty." He paused. "And because of how close they are."

"Were." Hei-Ran interjected. "How close they were. We've destroyed a friendship, Jianzhu. If Rangi brings Kyo-"

"When she brings Kyoshi back."

"When she brings Kyoshi back, those two aren't going to be the same." Rangi and I won't be the same. Jianzhu could hear his old friend's other unsaid words in his own mind.

Jianzhu sighed mournfully, but this time he didn't really care. Two girls' friendship was small in the grand scheme of the whole world. Same for a mother and daughters. His friend knew there needed to be sacrifices in life, that's how she got to the position she was at.

Hei-Ran sighed too, exhausted. "I just don't want Rangi to be hurt more than she's already been. She's already lost Yun, I don't want her to lose Kyoshi too."

"I know." Jianzhu went over to a desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a brush. "Which is why we need to bring them both back as soon as possible."

He handed his friend the items, and she took them, knowing he wanted to get started on writing a letter of her own. As she had promised him earlier.

_______

A/N: The next one should be longer, sadly it may take a minute because part of it has to be written alongside ch 5.

Also sorry it took a minute to get this one out, it was mostly because I wanted to make sure ch 4 was mostly done, alongside a big portion of ch 5.

Brightside, I might be posting another Kyoshi/Rangshi fanfic soon (it's a more canon compliant one ;U). This one gets priority tho.

[lowkeyclueless5137]

Doodles dump! Digital edition >:3c

Bcs on the sketchbook I did references for my current comic and thus I won't spoil u yet :3

This time is a lot of Jade for sum reason :v

We starting with the new au i didn't explain: the fight club au

The premise is basically MK meets Streetfighter, meets twst, meets real world. With Epel trying to get around New York and attending the prestigious NRC school for mages. He uncovers a secret fight club and gets recruited by a misterious fighter in order to uncover a secret drug ring.

The magical girl au :D

This was more of silly doodle time, but there are a few hints of the au's plot :P

Lowkey I didn't know how Ace was gonna look like at first, but now I know EXACTLY why he turned out like this. Parkour I guess :'3

This is from the lettler exchange p5 x twst au :v

Noting how I confirmed that the velvet room attendees are siblings, I HAD to make a few shenaningans in between them :3

Lavenza and Floyd are the ones who get a new fusion method, thus Igor(the deemed parent), Had to instruct Floyd first so he could tell Lavenza as well. I really like how the uniforms turned out tbh.

And yes, this implies that all the attendees are mers. Lavenza, Theo and Elizabeth are eels, while Margret and Azul are octopuses. Might draw those one day :v

For context, it's this spuerhero au. :'3

Ace is the funny lil guy that has and absolute TRAINWRECK of a backstory. And Riddle as well, but I wanted to practice a bit on backs and side profiles, but I also wanted to add sum context ;3

TWO :D

I tried to get around model references, because GODDAMN some of those peeps look like sum bones are in the wrong place :v

also colored vgs, bcs I saw some using those and I do enjoy sum complementary color sumtimes :'3

And what better au than jjba au? The first one is ur hint at the main plot idea of this au, while the latter is a ref for Azul and his stand: Dark Side Of The Moon. I tried to also see how realistically his stand would resist against things, seeing how it is made out of bulletproof glass, also a lot of Drag inspo for his stand tbh. :'3

You know it, I know it, WE AIN'T ESCAPING THE MLB MILD AU<3

It's a sort of tease of what happens during the mlb specials, which all happen post the main 4 seasons ya'll read and saw me losing my shit abt. :'3

YES, THERE WAS A REASON I TEASED MALLEUS'S FAM DRAMA!

Think that NY and Shangai Specials happen at the same time, but each of the our main 2 heroes go through sum self discovery post all that chaos with Madame Moth. Riddle with accepting the flaws of himself and coming in terms with his new family dynamic, while Malleus comes in terms with the tesnsion and the chaos around himself and the fact that he cannot ignore changes he doesn't like anymore.

And the other miraculous au, this time the maleidiazu hard au version.

Since Jade got the butterfly miraculous, I thought that the twins would be ABSOLUTE MENACES to Azul.

For Jade's design, I saw those very pretty butterfly decorations photos and I fixated on Gabe's butterfly tending hat. I also wanted to allude to his eel form, so I imagined a long, sleek, trein, reminescent of a cocoon, that can flare up and reveal it's true shape of a half wing, the top vest part acting as the 2nd part of the wing. He looks pretty aloof, the kind of person you'd assume would be nice, but the veil is like your warning sign, with the butterflies always sitting on the outside, all alert. I really liked how he turned out and probably is one of my favorite designs in this au tbh.

And again, Jade for the last one: the Jjk mild au. damn, I can't find the post

I knew right off the batch that I wanted this mf to get some inspo from Nobara's uniform, just because I think Floyd-pre curse era would have a more yuji insp uniform and since in cannon jjk these 2 were like besties and up to shenaningans at first, I thought it would be a fun and subtle reference. :3

The reason that yellow overall is shown, is bcs underneath the jacket, Jade has a top of a similar shape, mostly to accomodate his brother.

It's fun to think that Jade's so reserved and acts humble, but in here there's literally the truth. He's thrown in this world with 0 knowledge, trying to gather up the disaster that was left behind his brother and just fix things that he isn't responsible for in the first place, all for his own selfish reasons. It's fun :D

and that would be all for now :3

[all-the-things-2020]

Further Along the Way - Chapter Ten

Summary: Din makes a decision.

Rating: PG

“It’s a done deal,” Shandilon said smugly. “They’re going to call us up. My dad heard it from Senator Kilgore himself. The Parliament okayed it yesterday.”

Din let the cadets talk. With all the rumors swirling around campus recently, he’d found that letting the students gossip a bit before class started helped keep them focused once instruction actually began. He lost a few minutes of time each day, but better to have 45 minutes of kids paying attention than 60 minutes of them only half heeding his words.

“What will we be doing?” Limante asked. He was one of Shandilon’s buddies, always ready to back the other boy up.

Shandilon shrugged. “Probably something boring, to tell the truth. The plan is to use the military reserves to replace the troops that are being sent to the Danda sector, so we’ll just take over some dumb job like guarding an embassy building. The pilot cadets might get to escort a merchant ship through the inner trade routes, but that’s about as exciting as it’s going to get for us. Still, it’ll be better than sitting in a classroom being told what to do all day, right?”

Din called the class to order at that point and ran them through some hand to hand drills. X’intari was getting better, but he still held back too much, even though his physiology made him inherently stronger than the human cadets. Din looked forward to the day when the Bendaski was confident enough to just be himself. And on that day, Din was going to match him with Shandilon and enjoy watching X’intari wipe the floor with that little jerk’s ass.

The final bell rang and Din dismissed class. As he was gathering his things, a cadet popped in the door. “Mr. Djarin, sir, the Colonel would like to see you ASAP.”

“Thank you, Cadet,” Din said. He’d been expecting this. “I’ll be right there.”

Din walked to the admin building. There was already an air of urgency on campus; everyone seemed to be a bit more focused, a bit more hurried, a bit more on edge. He recognized the atmosphere of preparation before a battle. It felt familiar but at the same time, strangely foreign. This isn’t my life anymore, he reminded himself.

The Colonel greeted him solemnly and asked Din to take a seat.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, Mr. Djarin,” Braxden began. “The Republic has asked for our help in the Danda sector, and we have responded. To replace the troops that are joining the Republic forces, we are deploying our military reserves. This means I’m losing several key members of my staff, including Lieutenant Mondella.” He paused. “High Command has also asked that we pull out third and fourth year cadets and deploy them. Captain Woreg will be forming a squadron of flight cadets to assist in routine escort duties within our local system. And we will be deploying a squadron of ground officer cadets for guard duty somewhere in the local system, as well.”

“My students,” Din said.

“Yes, your students.” Braxden leaned forward. “I’d like you to lead them, Djarin. They know you and respect you. You’re a civilian, so this isn’t an order, you have every right to refuse, but I hope you’ll volunteer for duty.” He looked Din in the eye. “I’d feel much better sending them out with you in charge.”

Din held the Colonel’s eye contact as he said, “I’m afraid I must respectfully decline, sir.”

Braxden blinked. “Are you certain?” He wasn’t angry, but looked disappointed.

Din nodded. “As you said, I’m not a member of your military, and I have other obligations that require me to stay here.”

Braxden sighed. “Your wife’s due in a few months, isn’t she? Look, Djarin, we expect this to last a few weeks, a month at most. You’ll be back long before the baby comes. These kids need you.”

Din shook his head. “My family needs me. I made a promise not to leave them again. I had to do it once and I won’t put them through that again; won’t put myself through that again.” He sat up straight. “You can fire me if you like, but I won’t go.”

Braxden sat back in his chair. “I’m not going to fire you,” he said. “You are well within your rights to refuse. This means I’ll have to send Corporal Fennic with the squadron. He’ll start assisting you with the third and fourth year classes as of tomorrow, so he can get a feel for them before they’re deployed. It might be a few days, maybe even a week, before we know where they’ll be going and what they’ll be doing.”

“I’ll get him up to speed, Colonel,” Din promised. Fennic was a good officer and a natural instructor. It shouldn’t take him long to grasp the capabilities of the cadets he’d be commanding.

“I do wish you’d reconsider, Djarin,” the Colonel said wearily. “These kids … they’re still just kids, as much as they want to think they’re ready to take on the galaxy. I just want them safe.”

“So do I, sir,” Din said. “But I can’t … I’ll do everything I can to prepare them for what lies ahead, but that part of my life is over.”

He took his leave of the Colonel and made his way to Garrick’s office, where his friend was hunched over a data pad.

“Just talked to the Colonel,” Din said.

Garrick looked up. “What did you tell him?” He already looked haggard and Din felt a pang of empathy for the man. He wasn’t going to be babysitting a bunch of green cadets on a job within the local system. The reserves could be called anywhere the Thantosian military was currently operating; maybe suppressing the pirates harassing the Clovan system, or patrolling the Survanti asteroid belt for smugglers. Or even joining the regular forces in the Danda sector.

“I told him no,” Din said.

Garrick looked relieved. “Good,” he said, closing his eyes for just a moment. “I was hoping … you’ll look after Tress and the girls for me while I’m gone, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Din replied. “Anything they need, we’re just a comm away.”

Garrick buried his face in his hands. “I thought going into the reserves was the right move,” he said thickly. “Best of both worlds. Keep my military rank, keep earning points toward a cushy pension someday, but still be here for my family. But now … maybe I should have just resigned when my time was up.” He looked up at Din, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

“You can’t second guess yourself, Garrick,” Din said. “Just move forward with what you have.”

Garrick smiled crookedly. “I know, I just … I feel bad for Tress and the girls. They didn’t choose this; I did.”

“Tress did choose this,” Din said. “She knew who you were and what you did when she married you. She chose to make a life with you, have a family with you.” He knew that the couple had met while Garrick was still on active duty. Tress had married a soldier.

“Thanks, buddy,” Garrick said. “I knew you’d understand.” He shook his head and gave a weak laugh. “Now, I’m going to go home and tell my family how much I love them. You should do the same.”

“I will,” said Din. As they stood, he pulled Garrick into a firm embrace. “K'oyacyi, my friend.”

“What does that mean?” Garrick asked.

“Hang in there,” Din replied. Stay alive was the more literal translation, but he wasn’t about to tell Garrick that.

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

Mariana could tell that something had happened the moment Din walked in the door. “They’re going?,” she asked.

“They’re going,” he replied. “Fennic will be going with the cadets in my place. And Garrick’s reserve squad has been called up as well.” He picked up Ad’ika, who as usual was tugging at his pant leg before he’d gotten two steps inside.

“Oh, poor Tress,” Mariana said. She’d had lunch with the other woman just yesterday and while Tress had tried to be upbeat, it was clear that she was worried. “And I was just asking her if she can watch Ad’ika while I meet with the midwife.” Tress’ cousin’s neighbor’s aunt was a very reputable midwife and had agreed to take Mariana on as a patient, which meant weekly appointments at the woman’s office. “Maybe I should just stick with the doctor at the clinic …”

“No, I think it would be a good distraction for her,” Din said, sitting on the couch. Mariana settled beside him. “And for the girls. A weekly play date would cheer them up immensely. Besides, the clinic relies too much on med droids … I’ll feel better if Valinda Knorros delivers the baby.”

Still with the droid thing, Mariana thought with a smile. Of course, she felt a lot better knowing she’d be in the hands of a woman who had three children of her own, as well as the experience of having delivered dozens more over the years, rather than a med droid. Droids were very capable (she still thought fondly of RN-42, who had informed her of her pregnancy back on Florian), but she doubted one would be very sympathetic to the pain of childbirth.

“How are your classes going?” Din asked.

“Well,” she replied. “I’m almost done with my paper for the Rhetoric class and we’ll get our scores on the Theoretical Physics of Hyperspace exam tomorrow. I just have to finish the reading for the Art History discussion, but that’s not due for a couple of days yet.” The hyperspace class was kicking her butt, as she had never been as strong in mathematics as she was in other areas, but she was very much enjoying the other two classes. Surprisingly, Ad’ika was very good about knowing when she needed to concentrate, and so far she’d been able to keep up with the workload.

“Think we can manage dinner at the Mondella’s one night this week?,” he asked.

Mariana thought over her upcoming deadlines. “Tomorrow would work,” she said. “Should I comm Tress or do you want to talk to Garrick in the morning?”

“Comm her,” Din said. “I have the feeling Garrick and I won’t have much time to chat before he’s deployed.” Mariana squeezed his hand. How many comrades has he said goodbye to and never seen again?, she wondered.

“I’ll call her right after dinner,” she said. “Speaking of which, why don’t you two get washed up while I set the table?”

When he and Ad’ika were behind the closed door of the ‘fresher, she allowed herself a moment to lose composure. Her heart was breaking at the thought of Garrick having to leave, at the thought of Tress and the girls being left behind, wondering every day if he was coming home. She’d been through that when Din had gone off after Moff Gideon, and they’d only been together a few months at that time. She couldn’t begin to imagine how hard it would be after being with someone for years.

She also felt selfish for being so thankful that Din wasn’t going. Why am I the lucky one? Why should Tress have to go through this and I don’t? The ‘fresher door opened and she wiped the tears off her face, bustling into the kitchen to get the plates. Din was probably feeling guilty enough about his decision without her blubbering all over the place making him feel worse. She smiled brightly at him as he and Ad’ika took their places at the table, but she could tell from the gentle smile on his face and the tired look in his eyes that she wasn’t fooling him one bit.

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

“What?” X’intari blurted out when Din told the class he would not be accompanying them when they were deployed. “Oh, sorry, sir, sorry, I just … I kind of assumed you’d be going with us.” The boy blushed dark green and several of the other cadets snickered.

“I can see why you might assume that, Cadet,” Din said evenly, shooting a look at the ones who were laughing. “But as you recall, I’m a civilian, and therefore Corporal Fennic will be your commanding officer.” He gestured at the young officer, who stood calmly in the corner, observing. “He’ll be assisting with your classes from here on out so he gets a chance to see you all in action, so to speak.”

Shandilon raised his hand. Din suppressed a groan and nodded at him. “Mr. Djarin, sir,” the boy said, looking pointedly at X’intari, who was still mortified at his outburst. “I can understand why you aren’t going, being just a civilian, after all … but why are we being placed under the command of a corporal? I’d have thought we’d have a proper officer in charge.”

“Fennic is a proper officer,” Din replied. “He’s my assistant instructor in the first and second year classes, and he earned his rank by coming up through the ranks. Just because he didn’t graduate from the Academy doesn’t mean he’s not a good officer.”

“But he’s a non-com,” Shandilon protested. Cadets who graduated from the Academy and were accepted into the military started at the commissioned rank of Lieutenant, and tended to look down on the Ensigns and Corporals who had worked their way up from Private.

“He’s still an officer,” Din said. “Hell, even a Private outranks you right now, Cadet.” That didn’t sit well with the boy, but Din was past caring. “Corporal Fennic knows what he's doing, and I trust him implicitly, and he will be in command of your squadron by order of the Colonel. End of discussion.”

“Yes, sir,” Shandilon muttered.

Din approached him and said quietly, “If I hear one word about you disrespecting him, Shandilon, I’ll flunk you, and you’ll never get that diploma.”

The boy’s eyes flared. “You wouldn’t dare. My father would have you fired so fast …”

“Do you think I care?” Din shot back. Shandilon closed his mouth and looked away. Din turned to the other cadets. “Do any of you think I care more about my paycheck than keeping you all safe?” They shook their heads. “That’s right, I don’t. And the best way for you to get through this is to listen to your commanding officer, to trust your commanding officer and to obey your commanding officer. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the cadets chorused.

“So if anyone gives Corporal Fennic any trouble, he or she will answer to me. And if that ends my career here at the Adademy, so be it.” He turned to Fennic. “Corporal, the class is yours.”

Fennic nodded and stepped forward. “Thank you, Mr. Djarin. Now …”

Din stepped back and let Fennic take control. He was still seething at Shandilon’s attitude but he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. At least I won’t have to put up with the little shit for a while, he thought. But he would miss the others terribly.

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

Mando’a words:

K'oyacyi = 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*

[octopus-reactivated]

Kicked While Down - Bad Things Happen Bingo

If anyone was ever interested in Juli's backstory, there it is :3

(also requests for BTHB prompts are open)

Tw/cw: Pet Whump, Institutionalized slavery, kicking and beating down, scars mention, unfair punishment

Another day, another bruise. 

753 was trying so hard to follow instructions, to be part of the team. He could swear he was doing everything like everyone else. 

And yet, Trainer dragged him out of the group again and threw him on the ground. He was yelling, but the meaning of words was lost to 753. 

He made a mistake, and no matter how many times he tried to correct himself he couldn’t do anything right. 

753 was grabbed and lifted by the collar of his shirt and pushed back to the group who had to start the task from the beginning. 

“I’m sorry” he wanted to say “I don’t want you to suffer because of me”

But he couldn’t say that and his apologies meant nothing anyway when he’s not getting any better. 

__________

Again, and once more. 

His group had to repeat the same task so many times, and it was mostly his fault. 

More than once his group missed a meal or went to sleep late because of it. 

If only he could explain that he was trying, trying to not be a burden… But who would listen? Who would believe him? Who would care?

At least sometimes only he was punished. At least sometimes his teammates didn’t have to suffer because of him. 

__________

One day he was punched in the stomach. It wouldn’t be anything unusual, he was beat up all the time. But this time it wasn’t another punishment from the Trainer, it was another Pet. 

It was because 753 stumbled and that could interrupt the flow of the group and it was bad enough to make one of Pets snap.

He grabbed 753’s shirt.

“I had enough of you” he hissed “get your act together or get lost” he then threw a punch into 753’s stomach, strongly enough to make him lose all the air in his lungs. 

Later on 753 learned that the other Pet was a former Guard Dog who was repurposed because of some injury.

“Do you know how hard it is for us, because of you?”

Putting arms up and trying to shield the stomach and the face gave nothing. The beating ended only after Trainer jumped in and separated them. 

Later that day 753 got his meals taken away for starting a fight. 

__________

“Sir” he said, bowing down so much that his forehead almost touched the floor. 

“Why doesn’t it surprise me anymore?” Trainer asked. “You are getting worse by the day. Of course you would talk without permission”

Trainer Roger was right. Talking without permission was bad enough, and asking for something other than punishment was even worse. But if he won’t his team will be stuck in training forever. 

The shoe tapped on the back of his head.

“Now what was so important that you had to speak to me?”

“Can I be placed back into the chore Pet… I meant the individual chore Pet training? 

Trainer Rogers pressed the shoe down, so 753 shut down. 

“No, continue” prompted him Trainer Rogers “If you think you’re so smart as to question our decision on what purpose you’re about to serve”

“I am dragging the team down! Please! I know I am bad and useless and that there is no hope, but the rest of them don’t have to suffer because of me!”

The pressure on his head disappeared and for a second the room was completely silent.

And then the shoe came back crashing into Pet’s face.

753 was never kicked in the face before. Punched - yes, or kicked in the stomach, but never kicked straight into the jaw.

He instantly felt a metallic taste of blood and his scar that should be healed by now started hurting again. His vision got blurred by the tears and his body was shaken by a sob. 

Trainer Rogers grabbed Pet by the hair and forced him to look into his face.

“Honestly, it’s humiliating that I have to explain myself to a Pet, but I feel like this won’t stop otherwise. When we assigned you to a team we didn’t consider your thoughts about  - oh stop whining - about what the team needs or deserves. We considered where you would sell and you won’t sell unless someone is getting a lot of cheap Pets and is willing to overlook if one is useless or has a history of violence or both. You say that you drag everyone down? True, but you wouldn’t leave the training ever unless others pull you up. Is that clear?”

“Yes- yes sir” 753 sobbed out. 

“You better remember that. Now, I hope you’re ready to start your punishment”

__________

Taglist: @kim-poce @whatgoeswhumpinthenight @wolfeyedwitch @dont-touch-my-soup @obsessedwithegos @cicatrix-energy @jordanstrophe

[auncyen]

I'm still working on part two of "Journal Page #16" (which, yes, should have been given a better title; still don't have one) but I wanna share this first bit because I like it.

Temenos’ dreams dimmed to match the waking world almost as soon as the unnatural night started, but as the travelers cross the Sundering Sea, his dreams darken even further.  Awake, he can call on Aelfric for holy light; in his dreams, on his own, he sees nothing, grasping with sound and feeling and fear.  He is asleep in his home.  Roi is pounding on the door, calling in that urgent, fearful tone, though the words are garbled to meaninglessness.  Temenos could rise from the bed and find his way to the door by sound and feel and memory, but he does not try, because it’s the middle of the night and he, having slept, is not dressed to run as Roi is.  If he dresses before opening the door, Roi will be gone.  If he lets Roi in first, he’s transfixed by his friend’s fearful tone as he describes finding a cursed weapon and losing trust in the church, and Roi is gone by the time Temenos realizes he needs at least shoes if he is to follow, never mind Roi’s instructions.  Temenos knows how this goes.  He already knows.

The dream changes to something he is less familiar with.  Now he is Roi, cold and afraid, panting for breath as he runs with the bow.  Petrichor laughs behind him, sounding much like Deputy Cubaryi, another woman blindly devoted to a wicked one.  He runs and runs, but it is the darkest night.  The gods are also fond of sleeping when they are needed.  There is no light to guide Roi, and he inevitably trips over a rock he had no way of seeing and falls on the ground.  Cubaryi-Petrichor’s laugh grows wilder, louder, and as he fumbles to get up, a blade pierces his side from behind and he cries out with the little air left in him–

And he’s just Temenos, again, tangled in a rough, disgustingly sweat-soaked blanket, with a single line from Ori’s damned journal impressed on his mind:

“Sometimes, I hunted people too, like the time I came to possess the Darkblood Bow.”

He already knew Roi was most likely killed that night, or soon after, since he never returned.  It’s that word.  ‘Hunted.’  As if he was just another beast.

*

It takes a week longer than usual to make the sea crossing with both visibility and navigation hampered.  It doesn’t help that at least part of the crew has been afflicted by the same dullness of mind found on land, speaking as though the night is normal.  It doesn’t seem to have affected their ability to work, but they’re directed to very few duties to make sure they don’t get themselves or anyone else into trouble should their minds be prone to other errors not yet discovered.  The travelers keep busy working alongside the sailors who are still sane, including Temenos.  He does some physical work.  He also makes light in the most mundane application of Aelfric’s sacred power.  And very often, he puts on his best cleric behavior and inquires about how each crew member is doing, gives counsel as Pontiff Jörg would have and reassures them, feeling as though he is lying through his teeth.  He intends to bring back the dawn; the lie is in having to mask every doubt and worry, to have to appear as the paragon of faith others need in this trial.  He never did understand how the Pontiff and Roi could be so solid in their own reassurance.

The end of their sea journey nears: they find the eastern continent’s coast and realize they’re nearly a hundred miles off from the anchorage despite their best attempts at hindered navigation, but they are at least in sight of familiar land, which is enough to have sailors praising various deities among the eight, depending on who they think is most responsible for guiding a safe sea passage in total darkness.  (Temenos hears the most thanks for Aelfric and Aeber, the one most strongly associated with sacred flame and the one most acquainted with darkness.  There are a few thanking Bifelgan and Alephan, a patron of trade and a patron of the wisdom needed to navigate when conventional methods flounder.  He hears one sailor thank Dohter, and wonders at that until he thinks of Dohter’s chosen being set adrift at sea only to be safely found by a boat.  Perhaps in the end, they all rely on charity.)  They should be ashore in hours.  Temenos checks on the tucked away, folded journal scrap in the midst of one last bout of worry–should he show Throné, ask her to confide in him should she feel unwell?  Show everyone, and make sure no one is caught off guard?  Throw the scrap in the sea for the fish?--when his hand freezes.  His fingers brush the edges of the folded paper.

It’s been flipped over.

He scans the room with a summoned holy light: nothing of value is missing, immediately ruling out the idea that any of the sailors decided to take up thievery.  He takes the paper out, unfolds it, examines it.  It’s the same paper.  The passage he’s nearly memorized by heart reads the same, no evidence of alteration apparent.  He folds it back up and puts it back down the same way, considering the direction the edges are pointed in.  It’s not how he laid it down before.

…But surely it is?  He can’t see who–Throné herself is the strongest candidate for rifling through another’s room, and if she found the paper, it would have either been taken or placed back exactly as she found it.  Ochette is the next most likely to ransack someone’s room out of sheer curiosity, but the room as a whole would be more disorganized.  Hikari and Partitio are so principled about others’ belongings that Temenos has a hard time imagining either would search his room, let alone closely enough to find the paper, and if they’d read it they’d have either confronted him about hiding it or simply told the group.  Similarly Agnea, even if she is the one easiest to imagine making a clumsy mistake in putting the paper back while keeping the scene otherwise orderly.  Osvald is too attentive to detail.  Also, he would have just taken the paper, not put it back.  Castti…Castti, maybe?

It’s been nearly three weeks at sea in the dark.  Roughly two months total of darkness.  Temenos considers he may just be losing his mind, because humans were not made for this.

Only one more week of travel to Flamechurch.

[just-some-random-blogger]

GIRRLLLLLLLL AHAHHAHAH WTFFF 8S THISSSSS NAURRRRRRRRRRR MY HEART GO BOOM BOOM POWWWW

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

CRISTIIIIIII

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHY ARE YOU STARTING THIS FIC LIKE THIS THAGS SO GOOD ITS DO BEAUTIFUL HOW DO YOU EVEN THINK OF THESE THINGS WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK 🫵WITCHHHHHH🫵

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon.

Honestly I hate that for her. And rickon. Poor boy. I mean found family be like.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present.

THAT PART 💥💥💥💥💥💥 WHAT THE FUCK DID I FUCKING TELL YOU YOU RAT ASSS I TOLD YOU YOU DONT FUCKING KNOW HER YOUR PRESUMPTUOUS PIECE OF HIT

Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

AND THAT'S ON PERIOD 💯🙏💪🔥

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

She is that gwORL with the lipgloss unmoving

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

🤨 honestly 🤚🤚🤚 stay away I will poke your eyes out. Poor bb girl tho.

You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to.

PERIOD 💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 GRIEF IS OVER TIME SO SLAY AND KEKE

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?”

HES JUST A MAN 👎👎👎👎

You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man.

PFFFT the way I just said he's just a man. MY GUY YOU RNT UR A DAWWGGGG 👎

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

BEAT HIS ASS

... Ngl I don't remember the context of this but HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THE SENTIMENT REMAINS

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

..... Ngl shes dirty for that. She would stab him if he ever did the same to her with Luke 👎 L work sister. A sad day to be yn. Your honor that wasn't me I would never

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

And you know what he deserves it for underestimating her

I was gonna add that pic of this girl posing then there's like a dragon breathing fire behind her but I couldn't find it lol

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

☹️ POOR RICKON. I PERSONALLY COULD NEVER HAVE BEEF WITH A CHILD BUT THEN AGAIN I WASNT JUST MARRIED OFF TO A MAN I DONT KNOW OR LIKE

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

I hate this for her

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering.

HAHAHAHAH I APPROVE THIS MESSAGE

You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

The whiplash of the previous sentence being the first part of this paragraph goes crazy my gosh what the fuck

You get him. You would like to cry too.

JAHAHAHAHAHHA SHE SAID I UNDERSTAND YOU HAHAHAHAH U N ME BOTH KID 🤝

He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that.

❗❗❗❗NO BUT LIKE HONESTLY. THATS HOW I MEASURE HOW SICK I AM not shrieking but singing. Like if Im not singing I'm fucked. If I start singing again Im getting better 💕

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

I love that for her

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

🧍‍♀️ ........ 🫵WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-🫵

“I rode as hard as I dared.”

I have something inappropriate to say. But also 🗣️AS🗣️YOU🗣️ SHOULD 🗣️

His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal.

Lol. She said ok and?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

HONESTLY SHES BEING SO PETTY AND NORMALLY I WOULD BE ON PETTINESS'S SIDE BUT ???? IDK ITS GIVING IRRATIONAL????? IDK IDK LIVE YOUR TRUTH IG???

Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it.

Cregan. YN

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.

Literally what she thinks of cregan and her reaction to it

CRISTI IDK WHERE I WAS EXPECTING THIS TO GO BUT IT WENT AND I LOVE IT. IM PATIENTLY SATTTTT EEEK LOVE LOVE LOVE 1000000/10

Winter (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Mature language. Grief. Toddlers. Unreliable narrators. Miscommunication.

A/N: I was so excited about this chapter! These scenes are the ones I wrote first. Also, the biggest hug to anyone who is reading this. I had not expected the amount of love my first chapter got, and I am so grateful!

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

It hadn’t been snowing the day Cregan had married you, but his marriage was proving to be icier than the lands beyond the wall. You weren’t interested in spending time with him at all, and you actively tried to avoid him. He had tried to convince you to share rooms, trying to foster some intimacy, to no avail.

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon. The boy was too small to grow without one, not yet having reached his third nameday. But you hadn’t shown interest in that either. Instead, you pretended the two of them didn’t exist.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present. Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

As for you, grief still followed you around, like a too long shadow that refused to budge even in the face of Winterfell’s brightest light. Sara had befriended you, with little success. While you had been far more welcoming to her, you still looked constantly tired and sad.

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

You scared him. He was man enough to admit it. People were often afraid of things they didn’t understand, and Cregan was no exception. You were made of absolute ice. There was no better description. Cold, but as fragile as glass.

He was running out of ideas on how to bond with you. Invitations to tea were denied, nor did you want to ride with him to see his tenants. You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to. He would support your endeavors if you asked him to. He had offered his help with your attempts to establish a charity, since the North didn’t have Septas to take care of it, but you had proudly rebuffed him.

There was no pleasing you. He was at his wits’ end. Hence, the awful choice he had made that day.

To try to force you to be in his company.

“Why are you ordering my servants around?” You complain, barging into his chambers. While usually the kitchens were the domain of the Lady of the household, Cregan didn’t know you took it so seriously. “Do you not think me capable enough?”

“I do!” Cregan sits up in his bed, bewildered. He had given the orders around lunchtime, hoping you would not find out, yet here you were, less than half a day later. Far more soon than he had expected. “I just want to throw a feast to honor you.”

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?” You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man. He cannot help himself, his eyes lingering for a second too long, and his brain coming with no response to your statement.

You seem to take his silence for affirmation.

“Seriously? Do you at least have a guest list?”

And your tone is so haughty, your words betraying you believe Cregan to be an absolute imbecile, he cannot help but give a heated retort.

“Of course I have. Truly, I am more than capable of organizing it on my own. Arra let me do it a few times, and I was unmarried for quite a while. I am experienced enough to…”

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

Cregan loses his head fully, then. He grabs you by the arm, hard enough to hurt, and forces you to face him. For a frightening moment, he fears himself. Fears the wolf, the one screaming for him to strike you and remind you of your place.

How dare you come in his chambers, uninvited, after rejecting all his offers of companionship, to lecture him on grief? As if he could forget Arra was dead. It wasn’t so long ago that Rickon cried for his mother still, unable to understand why he didn’t have one. It wasn’t so long ago that Sara had to take over the role of Lady of the House, and suffered mockery from it. And it wasn’t so long ago, Cregan woke with a scream choked in his throat, reliving that awful morning in every dream he had.

He still did, sometimes. Less, now that he had more urgent matters to occupy himself with. Cregan was ashamed to admit it, but before Jacaerys and your arrival here, Winterfell had been far too empty to keep the ghosts away.

Now, with the war, and the flurry of activities that seemed to follow you, Cregan had little time to dwell much in his dark thoughts. Throwing himself into his work had allowed him to begin healing a wound he wasn’t even aware existed.

And wasn’t that a terrible thought? That Cregan was a man who thrived on war and hunger? Winter was coming, after all. It wouldn’t catch him unprepared.

He had sworn a vow to protect you. As long as Jacaerys had no children, you were third in line to the Iron Throne. To think of hurting you was not only to think of staining his honor, but to think of treason.

Cregan holds you there for a second longer, curious about your reaction. His grip must be bruising on your arm, he can feel the delicate bones under your flesh shift with how hard he is holding you. Yet, you show no fear. Your hands are balled into fists.

Were he to strike, you would strike back. Your face is the very picture of anger, your body coiled and ready to tear him apart.

He throws the feast. You sit next to him in icy silence and somehow manage to speak and dance with all the guests but him.

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

OF COURSE IT is today. The only day you actually wish your Lord Husband to be in the castle, and he is not.

You had spent many of your days fervently praying for him to leave on an errand, and yet, the day he does, you cannot even enjoy it.

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

The boy is cute, you suppose. In the manner all babes are. He is well-behaved, and quiet, and takes well to his teachings, even if they involve only naming things aloud.

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

The only assurance a woman has in a life spent as little more than property is her children. They are to inherit their father’s lands, and that is supposed to be enough. But for the second sons, said promise is always broken.

You had never, not once, thought you would come to understand Alicent, yet here you were.

You reflect on this as you hurry to the nursery, worried the damn boy will die before you reach it. When you get there, you feel the urge to scream. There is not one, but three serving girls hovering by the door, and the Maester is mixing some herbs in a chalice.

The child sleeps peacefully, unaware the surrounding turmoil. He looks impossibly small in his bed of furs, shirt open and chest covered in strange poultices. The boy… No, Rickon, had taken ill after the first snow. Perhaps he had been spending too much time playing outside, or he lingered too much in his wet clothes. You wouldn't know. You tried to avoid him as much as you could.

After this was over, you would have a stern talk with his maids. They shouldn’t be this careless. This was your husband’s heir. Someone had to care about him.

Not you. Never you.

“Will he be alright?” You ask, as the Maester places a wet cloth on his forehead. You have never liked children, never having had the chance to be one yourself. Your mother’s constant quest for the Iron Throne and her love for Daemon had often left you in the hands of the help. And when you were old enough, you had to take the role of the mature sibling alongside Jacaerys, helping raise your brothers.

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering. You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

You weren’t going to have children. Despite loving children, you despise your husband too much to ever lay with him. But most of all, you are beginning to fear you will become a damn Hightower. You feared that if you had children and faced the prospect of them only being second sons, you might be tempted to start a war too.

“He will, Princess.” The Maester, unaware of your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your arm. He surely believes in the gentle hearts of women, or some nonsense like that. “The fever will lower with the tea we gave him, and the cool cloth on his forehead. His lungs are strong. He will breathe normally soon.”

The boy’s chest flutters oddly. His ribs show with each inhale, depicting his trouble breathing. You cast a dubious look at the cool cloth. If this was all they could do, it was no wonder your grandfather had been rotting alive.

“Is that all you have to say? Why do his ribs show?” You do your best to channel your mother, tone imperious. “If this is truly…” Before you can insult him by calling him the worst the Citadel has to offer, a boy comes in. You let out a sigh of relief, your desire to berate the Maester subsiding. It’s the same boy you had sent to Castle Cerwyn to retrieve your husband.

“Princess!” He says, extending a hand to you. Much to your astonishment, he hands back the message you had sent to Lord Cregan. “I have grievous news. The road to Castle Cerwyn is fully blocked. I couldn’t get past the river. I cannot go over it either and avoid the forest, for it is not fully frozen.”

“This cannot be!” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. Cursed your husband, and his plans to visit the Cerwyns’ tenants today, of all days. “You have to get Lord Cregan. Send a more experienced rider.”

“My lady, I would advise not to.” The Maester says, meekly. “Even if the rider does manage to get past, it is very likely Lord Stark is in the village, snowed in.”

“Well, then send a damn search party!” You yell, uncaring your language is unbecoming of a Princess. You cannot be here while the child… While Rickon dies. The child has a parent, and it is your husband, you do not even care for him!

“It is not as simple.” The Maester cringes when you turn on him.

“Of course it isn’t. The only simple thing is the cure for the child’s malady, isn’t it?” You growl. “Do something useful, if you think a rider cannot reach my husband. Get me someone who can, and fix the boy.”

It would be easier for you if the boy died. You could have the children you so craved. The obstacle would have removed itself. Relationships between half brothers are never as strong as between full ones. At the very least, this child could cast out you and any children you birth when Lord Cregan passes. At the very worst, he might have them killed, as your mother intended with her usurper brother.

But you are not so craven as to let an innocent die. He is still a boy, no older than three namedays. He is vulnerable, and his father is not here.

You sit next to the bed, eyes fixed on his chest. Rickon will not die on your watch.

THE SOUND OF a door opening jerks you awake. Disoriented, you sit up on your chair, and check that Rickon still breathes.

He does. He has awakened with the sound of the door opening, just as you did. But unlike you, he has begun wailing. You get him. You would like to cry too.

“What is it?” You snarl at the serving girl who dared enter in such a manner. The sound of Rickon’s cries grate in your ears, shrill and loud, awakening you fully. You try to coax him into laying back down to no avail.

“Milady…” She stammers, holding a breakfast tray. The reason for her interruption becomes clear. Had it been so long already? You remembered standing vigil over Rickon until sundown, and changing the cool compress a few times after, but no further. By the Seven, you were a terrible caretaker. “I… There are…”

Rickon wails harder.

“Father! Father, want father!” He cries. He then attempts to remove the cool cloth from his forehead, and get up, escaping the furs laid over him.

The serving girl stares at the boy. You stare at her. Rickon continues to squirm. When it is clear she is expecting you to soothe him, you sigh and turn to the child.

“Rickon, you have to lay down again.”

“Father! Father!” He wails, face beginning to turn red, his breathing labored. You are unsure if it is his distress or the sickness, but it worries you nonetheless. The child cannot die. You are not prepared to deal with it.

“Shh, Rickon, I know you are hurting.” You tell him, as you pick him up. “Father is not here. He is trapped by the snow.”

At this, he cries harder. You can hear him gasping for air as he squirms in your arms and kicks at you. His snot is getting everywhere. Good Gods, what if he dies? Would your husband actually force you consummate the marriage if he loses his heir? The thought alone is enough to force you into action.

“He is not trapped. He is snowed in, just as when you cannot go out and play. Happens all the time.” You reassure him, rubbing his back. You know your words to be a lie, but the boy doesn’t. The weather has been especially rough this season. The snow storm is unusual in its fierceness. “He will be back soon.”

Rickon perks up at that.

“He will?”

“As soon as he can.” You promise, hoping it is the case. In truth, you do not know. Your husband is unaware Rickon is ill, and holds no fondness for you. You doubt he will be rushing once the road clears. In fact, you think he might be celebrating the weather and praising his northern gods for the excuse to get a respite from you.

Well, too bad. You would send men each hour to check if the storm waned and the road was accessible once more. He would have to come and tend to his child.

“Where is father?” Rickon asks you, a suspicious look in his little face. He is eerily similar to your husband. His sobs have turned more subdued.

“With Lord Cerwyn.”

“Why? Hurts! Father!” The boy demands, petulantly. He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that. You are no healer, but his agitation is worrying you. What if he has a fit because he overexerted himself and then dies?

“I want your father too.” You mutter under your breath. “You do not see me wailing.”

“I love father.” He sobs. “Want him.”

And you are not made of stone. You have never been, no matter how hard you pretend. He is still a babe, hands chubby, face round. He still smells like one, a mix of the nursery, and sweet innocence.

Without even realizing it, you have cradled him into your arms and begun rocking the two of you. He keeps wailing, so you begin singing.

“I loved a maid…” There is no need to be a good singer to soothe babies. You are unsure of what they like about it, but you know it works. It had worked for Aegon and Viserys, why not for Rickon? “As fair as summer, who had sunlight in her hair….”

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

Charmed by him, you keep singing. Seasons of my love is enlarged and repeated ten times over, and now includes verses about northern babies who look exactly like their father.

“I loved a boy…” You hum, softly. It feels like hours have passed when Rickon’s eyes finally begin to drop. Of course he would enjoy the verses about winter the most. “As white as winter, with moonglow in his hair.”

The door opens, slowly. You hear the wood groan as it does, but Rickon takes no notice. He burrows his head next to your heart, yawning.

You turn to look at the newcomer, pleased that having put the fear of the gods into the maid who had dared enter before had proven fruitful. The pleased smile drops from your face when you realize it is your husband.

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

“I rode as hard as I dared.” His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal. “How is he?”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the low tone. Rickon would recognize his voice everywhere because he perks up considerably.

“Father! Father!” Rickon claps. He attempts turning in your grip to look at your husband, which makes you fear he might fall, so you perch him on your hip so he can do so.

“The fever has broken.” You hand Rickon back to him, feeling a hint of embarrassment when his eyes linger on the way you had been holding him. “He’ll live.”

“Thank you.” And his voice is earnest and soft, and it makes you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Is it her still? Does Arra Norrey stand in this room with you, too?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

“It’s fine. I missed my siblings.” You cross your arms over your chest, awkward. Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it. “I will send for a bath for you and Rickon, after washing myself. Less I catch a cold too.”

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.