#nightmare comparing him to his father is crazy. because like

[mageknife]

Cole: His face in the stands, watching as I pass the test. So proud there's tears in his eyes.

Cole: Anything to make him happy, anything.

Cole: Why isn't that true anymore?

/

Dorian: He says we’re alike. Too much pride. Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I’m not certain.

/

Halward: This is not what I wanted.

Dorian: I'm never what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?

/

Nightmare: Greetings, Dorian… It is Dorian, isn’t it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.

[ma1dita]

buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> entropy | next -> somebody's angel words: 4.2k summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke (posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion. 

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like a sailor lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs. 

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?” 

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already, so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, Trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. Both of you took up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointed you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), so there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk, pretending not to hear.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?” 

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke. 

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, Trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind. 

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong. 

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…” 

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing. 

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, Trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable, I guess.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… so I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

 I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive.

You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, Trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. You ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, with a purple Zippo lighter in hand (the smoke grants temporary illusions through any space you blow it into, and it smells like grapes---thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror every so often, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he covers them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries running headfirst back into battle and towards to you, with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up, hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend.

But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two. 

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, Trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

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[jasontoddiefor]

LTIT Isekai Anon here this is just a potential idea and honestly if you do anything with what I sent previously I’d be on my knees before you ready to sell my soul but like picture if you will, and feel free to pick and choose anything from this deranged thought of mine:

I imagine the backstory starts off a lot like canon where Euihyun has a shitty, abusive father and a four year brother he is raising the best he can and a mountain of debt his father only adds to-up until he and his brother get run over by a truck that didn’t see Euiyoung crossing the street and Euihyun failed to shove his brother out of the way and so instead they both get hit instead of one or the other and-

Euihyun and Euiyoung both get reincarnated and isekai’d into a romantic fantasy omegaverse novel that he barely remembers the plot of but read because there had been nothing else to do because a customer left the book behind and he had downtime on his job so Euihyun doesn’t have grand plans or schemes up until he realizes he’s the side character offhandedly mentioned in an impoverished noble family that gets ruined by debt and he’s played this song and dance before and he’s not doing it again, he’s getting the hell out dodge even if he doesn’t have a coin to his name…and oh look there’s a conveniently passed out rich looking dude injured in the woods while he’s about to make his escape with Euiyoung in tow and fine he’ll put it off for a couple days to heal this dude and get some money as a reward. Enough to get him and Euihyun a nice home, maybe one by the sea. He is not aware that he is fully shattered the original plot of the novel beyond repair. Nor does he fully remember anything how this omegaverse thing works, but I’m sure that won’t have lasting consequences on him.

Northern Grand Duke Taeju is a man who’s parents have been on his back to get married to the point it’s slowly driving him to madness and then he’s nearly murdered and the only reason he doesn’t die is because this omega with one of the best scents he’s ever smelled nursed him back to health and is now demanding money for it, so he makes a deal: have a contract marriage with him for a few years and he’ll pay more than enough for him and his brother to live a comfortable life. This will not backfire on him at all. This will not get him attached at all. He’s definitely not going to turn into a horny, pining mess of a simp at all.

(I’m not saying Euihyun is pregnant before the year is out but-)

Euiyoung is 4 so he like barely knows what’s going on and accepts the explanation they are in a new world without technology and they can’t ever tell anyone about their original world pretty easily because it wasn’t like he was using cars or cellphones or really understood electricity and this world has a pretty decent magical substitute, and he likes this new man that took them away from their cruel father and means he can spend all his time with his brother, and he’s vibing for the most part because him and hyung dying after getting hit by that truck was just a bad dream that absolutely wasn’t real and Euihyun doesn’t have nightmares about at all.

Anyway Euihyun finds himself in a mansion bigger than his wildest dreams with an army of servants prepared to wait on his every need with a husband that is thankfully disinterested in him beyond a public show and he’s still on edge, they’ll be leaving here soon enough, just when the contract ends, and it’s cold but not as cold as an apartment without heat and threadbare clothes compared to the warm fireplace and thick furs and hot tea and hot chocolate always available and Euiyoung looks so happy playing in the snow, fed and warm and happier than Euihyun has even seen him and that is enough that maybe is enough for him to lower his guard around the contract husband who’s definitely not going to try and seduce him via immaculately pampering and spoiling his beloved baby brother. That would be ridiculous.

But maybe I’m just crazy

anon if you are i'm joining you <3

and this is SO good. i am obsessed. 10/10.

I can only imagine Taeju waking up like "where the fuck am I" and like. It's a nicer noble house but it for sure has seen some better days and is definitely not the forest he was hunting uuh a demon in? got nearly assassinated at in? something like that.

And then he meets his maybe-kidnapper-maybe host, who serves him a meal that seems less "you're sick so here you go" and more "we didn't have any more vegetables" and also what is a young lord doing serving a guest instead of a servant?

There are no servants, he learns a little later, as the head of the house is gone and funds have run out and all that's left is his definitely-host, who, rather conveniently he thinks, is of marriagable age, and his prospective-fiancé's little kid brother.

(The kid seems rather distressed that he lost his favorite toy? Some kind of lion from a show? Taeju is not aware of any theater shows with lions but he's also not interacting with children on the regular. But the kid babbles a lot at him while his genius-plan brother is gauging the prices of things to sell in the mansion.)

So once he's all healed up, and before his family can start tracking him down, Taeju pitches this: I need a spouse, just for year or two so my parents will shut up about me being single. I'll pay off your debt in turn. If I die before we divorce, you'll be paid handsomely. How about it?

And Euihyun, desperate, but not fucking stupid says, "yeah right" and "if you can't pay me now, just drop some coin off tomorrow" but does not actually expect this gesture of goodwill to pay off. He should've just taken rich guy's coat and sold it in the next village over.

"Tomorrow then," our dear bastard agrees and does show up the next day, in the carriage with the grand duchy's seal, pretending for all his servants to see that he fell in lust love at first glance with his sweet omega savior.

oh man anon im gonna have to re read the manhwa I remember like nothing about what exactly taeju's family and structure was like. besides that his dad is hilarious

[wolfpawzjakey]

Jercy Mpreg - It's such a good opportunity for character research. A study of Jason's character.

The fear of being like his father had never been so strong, and when Percy informed him that he was expecting a child from him.

what if the child is under a lot of pressure because he is the legacy of Jupiter and Jason's child?

What if he doesn't do well as a parent? What if one day he's not around and something happens to Percy and his baby? So many scary "what if's".

It's really delicious.

HAHA

I’ll bite anon.

This is a no judgement or care blog, I will literally respond to it all even if I am caught off guard UNLESS it’s like a triggering subject.

I’m not an expert in this field, but I’ll bite. I reposted the Mpreg thing a joke because it is a technically correct thing but I’m bitting and I’m not letting go. It’s my civil duty to respond to my askers 🤲🏻

I will focus on Jason mostly in this reply because you mentioned it being a good character study for him.

-

Jason has always been fearful of being compared to his father. Who wouldn’t when said father is Zeus/Jupiter, notoriously powerful and scary. Also notoriously a massive dick head who literally just stomps his feet and acts like a toddler when things don’t go according to his ruling. His track record is oil slicked and murky, Jason can’t bear to be compared to that. And yet, he fears so much he could do some of the wrong his father has, could be a vile person like that or as violent as he is. It fills him up with such dread sometimes that it chokes him.

When Percy tells Jason he’s expecting, he’s throttled. Because all of those fears have new meaning. He has direct reason for those fears when before, while, yes, still has many reasons, this one plays on the parental fear he’s always had. He’s never had stable parents, never had anyone to rely on, how in the gods green earth is he supposed to do this right and not fuck up. His worries are safety blanketed by Percy though, a fire that’s not fully out but is contained enough to not cause himself harm.

Jumping to his acceptance of having a child than gives him worry of “dear gods what if this child is subject to the absolute sheer weight of pressure Percy and I were put under when we were younger? This child is special by a million miles and would have so many eyes on them. Stress after stress pours into his mind and out of his body that it’s crazy, he’s trapped in this never ending cycle of “Jesus Christ, in one way or another, I’ve cause havoc to my unborn child”.

And more worries grow because of course they do. They grow and they’re mostly squashed, he has Percy and their friend, he’s never alone and he has way too many people around him to let him fuck up. Plus if he ever upset THE Sally Jackson? Oh, he’d be dead for sure. But the thought still weigh on his mind. This is his child. His and Percy’s, and god he knows Percy will be good with them, whoever they are and whatever they turn out to be like, but him? He has no sense of what it’s like to be a good parent, it scares him to no end that he could fuck it all up. That he could be the reason this child grows up with anything wrong. He fears that he could ruin a relationship he hasn’t even gotten to have with a little human who has yet to come into this world. Because what if his anger gets in the way? What if he gets angry at something they do and says something he doesn’t mean? What if the rough nature he’s grown up in and the rough treatment he’s been shown pops up in how he handles their child? Sure, Percy would probably bring him to an early grave, but he would probably hope for one if he’d ever destroyed the bond between himself and his child.

And gods, what if he dies early? What if he leaves this earth without meeting his child? Or passes just after he’s met them? He’d be a failure. To Percy and their child. He’s plagued by these thoughts. These daytime nightmares.

They’re not quelled by Percy, just kept at bay. They not quelled by their child the moment they arrive in this world, but day by day, they do get less frequent. The worries linger daily, but with the two most important people in his life, he doesn’t simmer in them unless necessary.

-

Uhhhhmm, I tried?? It’s not super in deep with the Mpreg stuff! BUT! I tried as best I could!

Like I said! This blog is a judgement free space unless like… it’s involving anything super depraved and triggering. So please my friends, keep asking me!! I love having discussions and I love hearing from you! Thank you for sending this to me anon <3

[ask-the-dweets]

Dwight "Pizza" Fairfield

(Also known as Paisley in other AUs) Pronouns: He/him Gender: Trans male Sexuality: Bi Age: 24 Height: 5'10" (179cm) Time in the fog: Just over a year

Pizza's main build: Bond, Head on, Quick & Quiet, Flashbang

His perks are more used for self-defense than for being aggressive, although this build would be very good for an aggressive survivor. A cornered animal is bound to bite, Pizza mainly uses his abilities to get away rather than grief, though the killers may not always think it that way.

Flashbang is still a relatively new perk to Pizza so he's pretty clumsy with it, it's very interchangeable with urban evasion

Pizza's other available perks: Urban Evasion, Spine chill, Fogwise

Urban Evasion is often switched out with Flashbang. Spine Chill isn't used very often anymore because it tends to make Pizza panic more than actually be useful. Fogwise was gained after he came back from being a killer

Playstyle: Immersed He’s still the baby of the three and gets spooked very easily but now he can be surprisingly decent in a chase!!... sometimes…. It’s really hit or miss. Head on and Flashbang are mainly used for self defense but can oftentimes make his chases a lot stronger than expected. Mostly he’s a gen jockey and does his best to stay out of chase, because he’s still normally weak at them, and instead works on gens and unhooks when he’s able.

Favoured item: Any repairing toolboxes, especially if they have a brand new part

🍕Get to know Pizza under the cut! 🍕

Dwight was an only child living with his mother all of his life, his father was never in the picture. He got a job as soon as he could in highschool to help his mother pay bills and so that he would have spending money for things like school supplies and snacks. He was never very good at school or sports but managed to make some friends through work.

He started fully transitioning after highschool and took on more jobs to pay for it. His mother was fully supportive of his decision but had little money to help him with his procedures so he took on multiple jobs.

During one of his extremely rare moments of free time he went out to a bush party with some of his coworker friends. It was a party in the woods since some of the attendees were underaged and were hiding from their parents. He had a lot of fun with them and everything was going great but some of his drunk buddies at the party thought it would be funny to pull a prank on Dwight because he spooked easily.

While Dwight was overly intoxicated they led him a little deeper into the woods and told the other attendees he had headed home for the night. When in actuality he had passed out in the woods. The other party goers had full intentions on picking Dwight back up, it was sincerely just a prank, but he was never found.

--

5 songs I associate with Pizza:

(warning: this is at the mercy of mod's music tastes :P) Main song: The Wolves - JJ and The Pillars Walk - Saint Chaos/Sam Tinnesz, Nightmares & Flare Guns - Seb Adams, Brave as a Noun - AJJ, Be Calm - fun.

Pizza’s been there for over a year now and knows most of the ropes, this doesn’t mean he’s very good at them but he’s experienced enough to know better in some cases

He had a decent life experience in the real world compared to the other Dwights and may reminisce sometimes, unfortunately the homesickness can sometimes trigger mood swings and his mood can sporadically shift.

He'd take working himself to the bone doing three jobs over being murdered constantly any day.

He’s also quite energetic and spunky when not completely scared out of his mind, he can be excitable and enjoys jokes and socializing. If he weren’t so easily spooked he’d likely be the most adventurous of the three too, he’s quite curious but knows better than to explore

He can also easily be flustered

He’ll do his best to save you but it’s unlikely he’ll be doing any crazy plays or body blocking for you.

He doesn’t like being alone and prefers to buddy-up with others, in and out of trials

He also can’t sleep on his own, though he does try on occasion, he can normally get some rest if he’s cuddling with someone else.

His perk “Spine Chill” has a habit of giving him panic attacks mid-trial so he rarely uses it now

Since he's been stuck in the same outfit for over a year, he feels rather uncomfortable without his hat and gloves, especially his gloves.

His nervous habits are biting his nails (can’t because of his gloves but you’ll normally see his hands near his face) he also tends to awkwardly hold his hands in front of himself and hunch/slouch inwards to make himself look smaller

He also has a stutter that’s always present but can get far worse with strong emotions be it fear, anger, embarrassment, etc.

Trans and proud! He's the most likely of the three to show some skin, though he's still rather self conscious too.

Pizza is Bi, male leaning, and isn't completely quiet about his tastes. He's definitely the most open about his interests in comparison to the other two.

Currently crushing on David King

Mainly because he thinks David's very strong, capable and cool.... The muscles help too.

In-Game reference: See me now cap, First job shirt, Brown slacks

[lyssified]

HEY GUYS HERE'S PART 2 OF THE HEMINGWAY RANT ! ask and you shall recieve :)

you can read part 1 HERE and also read the trigger warnings there before you start, this one also has a lot of war trauma talk nothing too bad though

people that read the first one and I think wanted to be tagged in part 2: @mister3127 @crayonssmellgood @mack-anthology-of-noise @vampireboywife

okay welcome back to episode 2 of why the fuck am I hooked on the life of an american writer from the 1930s. so I have a couple more interesting facts about him because tbh this man was insane :D

so let's do a little compare and contrast game. hemingway grew up in the great lakes area and enjoyed big game hunting, solo fishing trips, had a father who was a doctor locally famous for performing c-sections whom he worshipped, was injured passing out cigarettes and chocolate to Italian soldiers in WW1, and spent time recovering in Milan

hemingway's most famous short stories are his Nick Adams stories. he created this character that he called Nick Adams and wrote stories about Nick's entire life. here are some things about nick: he grew up in the great lakes area and enjoyed big game hunting, solo fishing trips, had a father who was a doctor locally famous for performing c-sections whom he worshipped, was injured passing out cigarettes and chocolate to Italian soldiers in WW1, and spent time recovering in Milan. are we seeing the similarities???

so Hemingway was out here basically writing self insert war fic. most critiques will tell you that he based Nick Adams on himself, but they fail to tell you to what extent. like the similarities are INSANE. Nick Adams was literally Hemingway as a book character. and he very obviously wrote these stories as a coping mechanism for his war ptsd. the stories are often extremely plotless and sometimes rambling- you can tell it's just an expression of his brain to the point where while reading some of his work, my only thought was literally "go to therapy. talk this out with someone." like it might not help but also it might because some of these stories are insane.

the ones that I think best demonstrates this are "a way you'll never be" and "now I lay me," which you can read in THIS PDF, just ctrl+f for the titles. a way you'll never be is about Nick Adams being sent out to the front lines of Italy in American uniform to spread morale. he also has a head injury and also some mental issues and ends up going on a rant about grasshoppers to all the soldiers (because grasshoppers are significant in his childhood of fishing and whatnot) and just generally while you read it you can tell it was written by someone extremely mentally ill to the point where it's like. hard to read. "now I lay me" is a similar idea except this one is mainly about how Hemingway, for much of his life, could not sleep without another person in the room or a light on because he would get horrible nightmares. this one is pretty hard to read as well, and there's some dialogue at the end that makes very little sense out of context of the other Nick Adams stories.

essentially reading Nick Adams stories is like weaving a huge web of plot points and similarities of hemingway's life, and along the way you start learning the significance of things like trout and grasshoppers and the different representations of trauma and it all comes together in a huge pile of what the fuck did I just read please talk to someone about this, I am concerned and this seems really unhealthy. and also the wildest part is he literally did this, published these nick Adams stories, and people ATE THEM UP. they were like yesss hemingway another banger plotless ramble about war traumaaa!!! like people ATE UP his work. and even to this day I don't see anyone talking about how insane it was that he literally did this. someone please tell me i'm right about this I feel like a crazy person.

anyway on a happier note, to end part 2 I would love to tell my favourite Hemingway story.

so if you're familiar with f. Scott Fitzgerald (the guy who wrote great Gatsby), you might be surprised to learn that him and hemingway had a kind of love/hate/friends/kind of homoerotic but Hemingway was homophobic (read the Mother of a queen) relationship. they used to write letters to eachother and edit each other's work !! Hemingway once sent a draft of a story to F. Scott and F. Scott sent back 10 pages of edits. Hemingway sent a letter back that only said "kiss my ass." Hemingway also wrote a really sweet letter to F. Scott at one point that you can read HERE in which he wrote "you are twice as good now as you were at the time you think you were so marvellous," and also "anyway I’m damned fond of you" and then signed it "always your friend." which was cute. Hemingway also like. DESPISED f scott's wife with a passion. do with that what you will.

anyway here's the interesting part !! this is a pretty famous story that Hemingway wrote about later after it happened. so this one time hemingway and f. scott were having dinner in Paris and F. Scott expressed his concern that his dick was too small. so Hemingway said hey, come to the bathroom and we'll compare dick sizes don't worry. and then they did. and hemingway's response was "you're perfectly fine". so uh. here's some articles about that one time F. Scott Fizgerald and Ernest Hemingway compared dick sizes in a Paris bathroom...... 1 2

and YEAH !! thank you for reading part 2 of my insane Hemingway rants!!! hope yall learned something !!!

here's my list of recs of Hemingway stories if you're interested and want to read some of his shit, again all of them can be found HERE

so the 2 most entertaining reads are "the short happy life of francis macomber" and "the undefeated", those have the most plot, if you read short happy life please hmu send me an ask and tell me if you think margot was guilty or innocent

some concerning nick adams stories: "in another country", "a way you'll never be", "now i lay me", "big two-hearted river" parts 1 and 2

i wrote an essay on this one, it has some homophobic undertones: "the mother of a queen"

and finally my personal fave "a clean well-lighted place"

[orchardverse-blog]

INTRODUCTION

I've never written an introduction to a blog before so bare with me and stuff, okay? Got it? Good. Great.

This blog is fairly new so there won't be anything big or new and if there is you should check the intro (* which will be pinned) for anything new since I immediately update this post whenever I post something important.

What is OrchardVerse about?

Orchardverse takes place in a whole separate multiverse, at least, that is what is presumed. It is theorised that OCV and other UTMV's alike are linked together in one big spiderweb, but those are just theory's. Completely and utterly different from the main multiverse where most things are held. (* basically a multiverse filled with my headcanons which are technically canon in my verse)

There are the same Timelines and AUs as the UTMV like UnderSwap and UnderFell, it starts to deviate when Maple shows her face in the multiverse. Maple is an outcode who was never supposed to exist, if Cross and the rest of the gang never found her, she would very likely never live through the deletion of said AU she was in.

Things wouldn't have gone so far off the main UTMV and created its own separate multiverse, OCV, if Maple didn't go crazy and Nightmare didn't die and... If things were better. Maybe in another life, huh?

SPOILERS DOWN BELOW

Before I let you know the gist of things I need to make some facts clear first

Core!Frisk is seen as Dream's pupil or understudy of sorts, like a kid who finds you cool and wants to follow you around, while still taking care of the omega timeline

The Nightmare in this universe follows canon really closely but still has most of the hcs the community and myself follow (* because screw canon)

There is a need for balance but the stars and many other sanses are oblivious to it

Nightmare is a cruel person but good father

Core!Frisk looks like a teenager but still acts and behaves like their usual self just with an extra hint of angst

Maple isn't good nor bad

Core!Frisk isn't good nor bad

Basically, most people in this multiverse are neutral rather than black and white, despite how hard they would try to make others believe it.

This story is centred around Maple and Core!Frisk a lot, even going through some dark themes.

Okay now with that out of the way I can start summarising the beginning.

Nightmare and Dream die in battle by their brother's hands. Most mourn, others celebrate, what some don't do is plan a way to make those who are celebrating suffer.

Maple was lucky enough to live under Nightmare's care for the past 3 years without any hinderance until now that was. Seeing and even hearing people cheer on live television as your hero was now gone forever. Never will she be able to see him again and tell him about her day as he did his work. Gone were the days where she could watch as an AU was milked for its negativity. Compared to Dream, Nightmare barely got a proper urn, it certainly sucked but better than nothing. Living for 16 years on this earth has taught her many things but nothing could ever prepare her for the loss she would feel without her father.

Core!Frisk wasn't used to this uneasy feeling in their chest. There were other Dream's of course out there in the multiverse but it didn't feel the same. No matter how many different lenses of themselves they saw through nothing could make them feel the same because every universe had its different dynamics. Always a slight change in things. After all, something, even if it was too small to catch on, must change for a timeline to exist and that misplacement of an object could lead to anybody's death. It was risky for their mental health.

Sure, they saw deaths practically everyday at any moment but as long as they didn't think too hard about it, the memories will slip out of their mind eventually. Most of them do but some don't. It lingers. Waiting until they were at their most vulnerable

Maple wasn't having it. She wouldn't allow her family go down like this. They all were sulking, giving up, mourning. But she couldn't sit still any longer. She was always a bit of a problem child, doing bad things to get any attention she could get. This was her last selfish act. She needed her attention now or else she will just be another snuffed out flame.

When Nightmare died his soul was long gone but it solidified into a black apple which oozed negativity if you took a bite of it. How could she know that? Well, how else other than taking a risk? When her teeth sunk in she immediately lost consciousness. Finally waking up she saw where they had kept her father's remains, his office, was in ruins. Her back felt heavy and there was... Black goop dripping from her... Face?

That's all the spoilers you get since I'd hate to give you all the content right here for free without you working for it! >3<

What is Maple like?

Maple is described as unapproachable and scary with a crazy grin permanently etched onto her face. Anyone can tell she has been through a lot and is obviously mentally ill. Most rumour that Nightmare has forced this idea into her head. To take over his business and follow in his footsteps. Although, that is just her in public and rumours are only rumours.

Simply more propaganda.

Maple, out of the public eye, is still as mentally deranged as they make her out to be but she is much calmer since she can be herself. There aren't many people who can make her come out of her shell like that so nobody really knows how she acts without the pressure on her back.

What is Core!Frisk like?

Frisk is described as cheerful and child-like. Always so ready to help and kind. Has a sweet and warm smile that could melt anybody's heart if they flashed it at them. Many have claimed they are as energetic as usual but lately, nobody has seen much of them except for a few who see them on the streets.

Safe to say they aren't looking as good as they once were. But who would ever dare say something like that about their saviour?

Frisk, outside of the public eye, is much more troubled than they put on. Usually, they take a stroll or something to calm their nerves but it doesn't always work. They didn't expect how much of a weight everything would be on their shoulders.

Main character(s)?

Maple belongs to me

Core!Frisk belongs to DokuDoki

Side character(s)?

Reaper!Chara by Ren

Arius by Akii

Fresh!Sans by LoverOfPiggies

Ink!Sans by Comyet

Swap!Sans by idk jshdjdman

The entirety of the Bad Sanses but Nightmare and Error

(* might add more later on)

Relationships?

No canon relationships

Comics?

None at the moment, visit another time.

Genre?

Action, Adventure, Drama, and, Fantasy

The story flips back and forth from Maple to Frisk and back again, usually starts with Maple then goes back to Frisk. So if a comic of Maple came out already expect Frisk's to be next unless they are both in the same comic strip.

Sometimes it might go to a side character but it will go back to one of the main characters after a bit. The stories right themselves I can't help it.

Art?

I unfortunately haven't finished any...

Moral?

Moral of the story is... I don't know... Keep trying? Don't ask me bruv idk either.

That is all there is for now, there certainly will be more soon so stay tuned, after I finish comic con and my other projects then I will hop straight to OrChardVerse!

[twicethetrouble]

Late night realization:

Didn’t Simmons work with Tex at MOI? He was clean up with her. Have they ever talked? There’s so much potential there!

Ref: Runaway freelancer Simmons AU

Also how much better does Simmons thinks Sarge is as a father figure? Leaps and Bounds better?

How vague was Carolina when she gave Grif the shovel talk?

Oh god, Wash stumbling across the helmet Simmons wore at MOI and yeeting it at his head and demanding where got it (fearfully).

Something like that. Omg Simmons, Wash, and Carolina teaming up or doing some secretive shady skulking around when they aren’t actually up to anything.

Or wash gets a random nightmare about the demolition expert one night after seeing Simmons face.

Him getting fatherly for some reason because of Epsilon’s memories. Like a pat on the shoulder and the urge to threaten Grif. That’d probably be too silly to be real though.

….Grif getting jealous Simmons is hanging out with Wash and Carolina and not telling him what they’re doing or talking about.

Well they are married so there’s no way it’s anything that’d take his husband a way from him. He’s not even into Simmons like that so it doesn’t matter either way. Why does Simmons laughing and smiling with other people make him angry? Nah, can’t be him. Can’t be….. He needs a cigarette.

“Where did you even get that? I thought you ran out of cigarettes?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what you’re doing with those blues?”

“They’re not blues, Grif! They’re freelancers, empathize on free.”

“Just like I’m free not to tell you where I got these.”

“So there’s more than one?”

“What does that matter?”

“…”

“…”

Simmons and Grif then wrestled for the cigarette pack he’s hidden on his body. Carolina walks in. They stop.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“….Get…. THE FXCK OFF HIM!”

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“Protect me lamp!”

-Yeah! Simmons did work with Tex on occasion, mostly for, as you said, clean up/demolition work. I don't think they talked much while he was on the MOI, at least not outside the mission. I think they both recognized each other in Blood Gulch, but kinda pretended they didn't. Simmons b/c he didn't want to bring attention to himself, while Tex was like "oh, That's South Carolina. Is he trying to be covert?... I'll let him think he's being covert. I have bigger issues than a run away demolition tech."

-As for sarge, Simmons probably thinks he's like the best father figure ever lol. (then again, the only thing he has to compare to is the Director, who was very much a dick to him, so even a half-crazy old man obsessed with war is loads better than that.)

-Carolina probably wasn't very vague about her shovel talk lol. She's not exactly the subtlest when it comes to, well, anything. She probably gave him a very detailed list of what she'd do to him if he so much as thought of hurting her brother. One that would have Grif terrified of even looking the dude's way for the next week lol.

-That would be hilarious! Unfortunately Simmons blew up his old armor as a sort of 'resignation letter' when he left the MOI. So not entirely possible.

-But wash being vaguely reminded of Demolition Tech whenever he's around simmons would be funny. Like he's just sitting there half-panicking like ''Why does this guy remind me of the demoition tech. is it because he knows a lot about explosives and once mocked me for needing to use c4 to blow up a suit of armor? I know he somehow knows how to explode armor with just an alarm clock but that doesn't match Demolition Tech's skillset. Does it???" He finds out later that Simmons and Demolition Tech are the same and he's just like "That's why?! I wasn't going crazy!" lol : )

and lol!! : ) Poor Grif cannot catch a break with Carolina around. He just wants to hang out with his husband and it is not working out at all lol.

Thank you!

[kasienda]

ML Conformation (5x25) - Alternate Ending

Okay!! This episode almost worked for me and I really enjoyed watching it. Here’s how I would have integrated Adrien in without changing a whole lot:

• Adrien realizes that nightmare isn’t real - that it’s caused by an akuma - most likely his father because it’s the SAME nightmare that was in the previous episode.

• Adrien in his cell uses the alliance ring to cover the mic of the robot spy just like he did in the episode so he could talk to Plagg. He knows that he’s being watched and he knows the only way to get his father’s attention elsewhere is to pretend to conform to his father’s wishes. He tells Plagg that he’s going to put on the app and that he needs Plagg to bite him in a few minutes to get him to take it off. 

• Gabriel falls for it, and once it looks like Kagami and Adrien are complying, he starts his plan. 

• Plagg removes Adrien’s alliance. Adrien fights off/resists his nightmare knowing it’s caused by an akuma - most likely his father, it’s not real, and he’s gotta help Ladybug. He blocks the robot camera again with the alliance ring same as he did above, transforms and cataclysms his way out of the cell - (maybe makes a hole small enough that he can drag that foosball table over it, so it’s not immediately obvious. Haha!!)

• Chat Noir heads towards Paris and to his father’s mansion, since he knows his father is most likely the akuma. He gets there after Ladybug has experienced all her revelations, right as the miraculized are attacking.

• He and Ladybug fight of miraculized back to back for a moment, but not long enough for them to compare notes.

• At some point he takes a hit for her, or pulls the miraculized away from her with a distraction, but in the process gets cornered. Monarch shows up at this time. Adrien knows that he’s going to lose his miraculous, so he removes the ring revealing himself to both Monarch and Ladybug. While they’re busy reacting, he throws the ring to Ladybug or shoves it into Plagg’s hands.

• Adrien is restrained by the miraculized or ordered to stop fighting by Monarch.

• Marinette’s nightmare strikes in that moment seeing Adrien restrained and Monarch controlling him and Ladybug goes a little crazy. This allows Monarch to break past her defenses, and she loses her transformation.

•Adrien says something inspiring/calming/reassuring or how much he loves her, and Marinette is inspired all over again! She then transforms into Bug Noir. End of episode!

I don’t yet have thoughts for what to do with Recreation (5x26). That episode felt batshit to me and I feel like I will need the context of season six before I know how I feel about it.

Anyway, if anyone wants to write this fixit fic, DO IT! And then send it to me so I can read it. Haha!

[rhianwells]

Ria tried to think of any time they had to spend apart and this cursed winter was the longest they had ever spent away from each other. Even when Ria was visiting her father and Tad stayed in New York so they could enjoy some father-daughter time, two weeks with lots of messages and phone calls had to be their record. A few months of not even knowing if they would see each other again was a nightmare Ria couldn't believe was over, but Tad was finally here.

Her fear and happiness mixed, coming back in waves. She stood there as if none of it was real and she didn't want the reality to brutally drag her back to the sad loneliness. Then she dared to believe it was true and cried her happy tears, knowing Tad's voice was real and so were his promises that soon they would be together again. But when he picked her up and started carrying her to the bedroom, Ria's giggles filled the room - she could hallucinate but no way she could levitate defy gravity like this.

"Oh God, we really are going back home, I'm not crazy, you really are here. You didn't bring anything nasty, you don't need no quarantine, you-" Her soft landing interrupted the flood of words and reassurances that he was allowed to break the rules, but when their eyes met again, she decided she didn't even want to continue. They had a whole hour and then, after a tiny bit of waiting, they would have as much time for themselves as they could possibly want. The quarantine was nothing compared to the months of waiting and knowing absolutely nothing about the other's fate.

"I knew you'd ask that, I know this smile so well, Mister!" She chuckled and a playful wink sealed the deal - of course, she would find a camera to take a few pictures for him. A joke or not, Ria was one hundred percent serious about this. Her smile turned a little less mischievous and a bit more worried as she calmed down. "Baby, you're not hurt, right? Where were you? I just... I have so many questions and I'm so happy to have you back, and I wanna stay as close to you as possible..." She paused. "But you were safe, right? Tell me you were safe, tell me my fears were irrational because you had been safe that entire time."

having her in his arms just wasn't enough and as his lips found her skin he had to remind himself about the no kissing policy. tad let his lips press against the corner of her jaw before pulling away and looking her over. "of course we are." he nodded in promise as he thumbed away the remnants of tears on her cheek.

"i have to stay here for a few days, make sure i didn't bring back anything nasty--" he did his best to hide the disappointment in his voice, hoping to keep an optimistic outlook. tad let a finger drift under her chin and used it to gently lift her eyes to look at him. "but the second i'm cleared, i am going to carry you through our doorway and we're gonna christen the apartment a second time." his grin was immediate and boyish, unable to hide the joy in his heart at the idea of their life coming back together as it should be.

sada hadn't told him much about what he'd missed, only that things had gone to complete shit during the supply run and they'd been trying to recoup ever since. with little warning, tad's hands dropped to ria's butt to lift her in the air and over his shoulder carrying her with ease to the bedroom. "we've got an hour before the warden puts me on lock down." he tossed ria on the bed playfully with enough force to make her bounce slightly before jumping in next to her. he laid on his side and looked at her with mischief, biting his lip before asking, "maybe while im in here you can find a camera and slip some nudies under the door." he was only half serious.

[webtrinsic1122]

Considering there’s only 70 Fics on ao3 tagged: America “Chavez & Stephen Strange” I’m assuming y’all need ideas and I’m desperate for content:

• America figuring out about Strange’s crazy memory and badgering him with questions while Strange eats the attention up cause of course he’s a show off.

• America having to go ask Stephen to go buy her sanitary products

• mordo finding out about America and again not trusting her or her power in Strange’s care and either a) tries to steal her powers or b) tries to kidnap her as his own apprentice

• strange begins to notice when he raises his voice america is immediately staggering away even when he’s not speaking to her and they struggle with the fact she’s still a bit afraid of him even if she adores him

• America emotionally shuts down in fear that if she is frightened again and goes through a portal she’ll never find her Stephen again, so she can’t let herself be afraid

• he helps her on her reading and writing while she helps him with Spanish

• Stephen grows concerned at her lack of friends until America meets Wong’s new protege a boy named Ned Leeds (which could eventually lead her to meeting spider-man)

•America randomly meeting spider-man on her own, Peter then explaining everything about his and Strange’s spell and Peter explaining he’s happy that she has strange and that they’re good for one another

• Since apparently ppl know that it was Strange who made the mandatory decision to give away the time stone in the snap - America and Strange are out for some reason or another when he’s confronted, and the guilt causes him to freeze up so America runs up and hugs him and ultimately pulls him away from the conversation. Absolutely flabbergasting whoever was confronting him because they obvi don’t think he has a heart yet this young girl is looking up at him with pure admiration

• Christine and her new husband are on a date or a walk or something and run into America and Strange, and she is like !!!!???? UR A FATHER NOW!?

• America is adamant She like’s when Rintrah gives her piggy back rides, yet she can’t compare it to anyone else so she keeps pestering strange until he relents (or is just in a vulnerable enough position for her to jump on his back)

• America calming Stephen down from his nightmares and then asking him what they’re like since she doesn’t have them

• america taking up boxing and such after Stephen compliments her after punching Wanda

That’s all I got for the moment but if y’all ever need more, hmu. If you use any of these lmk!!! I wanna read ‘em!

[mister-faltine]

What do I think might happen in "Doctor Strange 3"?

Warning: The arts in the post belong to their respective creators, such as Jorge Molina. I'd also like to warn you that this is all just my speculation, it's quite possible I'm wrong about certain things in what could happen.

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I believe that Dormammu will not be the main villain in the story, because I believe he was the one who sent Clea to Stephen Strange at the end of MoM. The reason I think so is because I don't think it makes sense for Dormammu to let the Incursion destroy his universe. Dormammu wants to rule Earth and the Multiverse, not destroy it. So I think it's possible that he sent Clea to make a temporary alliance with Stephen (this has happened in the comics a few times) and the two sides will help each other save their own dimensions from the Incursion.

There is a character that I believe has the potential to be the villain in Doctor Strange 3, and that is Nightmare himself. In short, I believe that Nightmare will try to let the Incursion happen and since MoM has shown that dreams are "alternate lives", it would make sense for Nightmare to have a little control of the Incursion. But why would he do that? I will explain the motivation.

Most of us know that Nightmare is a crazy villain, but I believe there could be a big reason why he tries to do such madness that he can destroy even himself and that reason is... God Emperor Doom. Look, let's assume that Nightmare got to see an alternate life where Doctor Doom managed to become "god" and ended up managing to become the Supreme Being. However, for Nightmare, this alternate life is a threat not only to him, but to the entire Multiverse, because if Doctor Doom becomes "god", he can threaten the existence of other Nightmares in other realities and even conquer these realities, making Doctor Doom invincible. I know some people might not like this idea, but it would give Nightmare a reason to be doing what he's doing, not to mention it could add more hype to Secret Wars and make people fear the power of Doctor Doom.

One thing that I think would be cool to happen is Doctor Strange and Clea going on a journey towards the Dream Dimension, because maybe Dormammu can't invade the Nightmare Realm yet and needs them to destroy some protection. This could make much of the film focus on Stephen's relationship with Clea as they're on the journey and still show different dimensions along the way. However, one thing that would be great too, is for them to show the differences in Clea's powers compared to Stephen's powers.

About Clea, I think it would be good for the movie to try to focus on her past and show a little of her relationship with Dormammu in the MCU. For those who don't know me, I would like Dormammu to be a father figure to Clea in the MCU, because it's something that could make Dormammu a more interesting villain and create conflict within Clea when choosing sides (in the future). Oh, and I think it would be nice for Clea to tell Stephen about the Dark Dimension's past, still telling him about Umar, about Dormammu being the new ruler and how the two brothers "saved" the Dark Dimension.

About Dormammu in the movie, I believe there could be certain scenes of him alone talking to Umar and showing concern for Clea's safety and his hatred for Stephen. This would not only show that Dormammu hates Stephen for the humiliation he put him through in the first film, but it could show that he cares for Clea and would show that he considers her more than an "Apprentice". It could even show Umar not caring too much about it, because she can be a very distant mother to Clea and Dormammu was something closer as a "father" to Clea. But of course, that doesn't mean that Umar doesn't love Clea deep down, that would just show that she was still broken when she lost her Faltine form because of her pregnancy.

About the final battle, let's assume that Stephen and Clea manage to destroy Nightmare's "mystical protection" and make Dormammu invade the Dream Dimension. With that, we could see Dormammu, Clea and Stephen fighting side by side against the Nightmare. As for Umar, I think it would be funny to see her just watching the fight sitting somewhere while drinking (or smoking) something, showing that she doesn't care in the end or believes that the three of them can do it. However, I still think it would be good for the four of them to be united in the battle against Nightmare, it would be amazing.

After they defeat Nightmare, I believe they can find a solution to "stop" the Incursion in his throne room. However, let's assume that they "succeed", but when Dormammu opens a portal to send Stephen back to "Earth", everything is changed and it would show a statue of a being and that statue would be of... Victor Von Doom, the God of Battleworld. Yes, by the time Doctor Strange 3 could be over, the Kang Dynasty is over and Doctor Doom has already become God, making people excited for Secret Wars.

The reason I believe the movie could end like this is because the mystical dimensions can have a very different time than Earth, making Doctor Strange, Clea, Umar and Dormammu unaware while they are battling Nightmare. That is, years have passed on Earth, while for them, only a few hours. However, let's assume that thanks to Doctor Strange and Clea interfering with the Incursion in Nightmare's throne room, they made the other mystical dimensions unaffected by the Incursion, but failed to save the two Earths that collided, which made Doctor Doom be God.

Finally, a lot could happen after this ending, for example, Dormammu would have to unite once again with Stephen to free the Multiverse from Doctor Doom's control. The Fantastic Four (or just Reed) could be fighting Doctor Doom's forces, that would make Doctor Strange go after them and recruit the other heroes that weren't changed by Victor. Dormammu would bring Chaos to Doctor Doom's Order and we could see God Doom Vs Dormammu. However, Dormammu could just be a distraction, while Reed Richards, Stephen Strange and Clea are going to find another way to recreate the Multiverse as it once was and that way could be... Kang, the Conqueror.

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I hope you enjoyed the post and the ideas. I know I may be overreacting to certain things, but believe me, I would love to see the Faltines play major roles in The Multiverse Saga, they deserve it and are interesting characters who deserve more recognition. Sorry if my english is weird, because english is not my main language.

[scorpio-marionette]

31 Nights of Head Canons - Night 1

A/N: So pretty much everybody is doing Kinktober. While I can't really write smut, I still wanted to do something for the spoopy season. I decided literally today to do 31 head canons, one every day, and post them at night for everyone to enjoy when they can. I have a list of Halloween/Horror related questions to ask 19 of Pedro's characters. I hope use guys like them. Let me know what you think of the canons.

~

Night 1:

What are you afraid of? What do you not want to run into?

Dio

The demon he serves. Dio may have sold his soul to this entity, but that doesn't mean he isn't afraid of it. After all, it is better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path.

~

Omar

Being found out that he's fake. Omar never wanted to be a boxer. His father forced him, wanting to raise his son to be a "man's man", whatever that means. Afraid of his dad, he went through with it. After gaining attention for it, he became more afraid of being found out. The lash out from his father would not compare to the crushing loneliness and ridicule he would get from his so called "friends".

~

Zach

If he were still on the street, it would be serial killers and zombies. He has minimal defenses against either of them, so he would rather not deal with them. Now that he has a home, it would be burglers and repo men. He's just getting his life back. he doesn't want to lose it now.

~

Oberyn

Oberyn is just crazy enough to be willing to face anything. I mean, he was willing to take on Ser Gregor Clegane a.k.a. the Mountain. A giant man! He lived in a world with dragons! I don't think he's intimidated.

~

Marcus Pike

Freddy Krueger. The dream demon is something Marcus hates. But can you guess why? He hates him because Freddy isn't something he can really defend against. Yes, he has training with weapons and is an effective agent, but what if he's attacked in his sleep? He can't win there. Freddy can only be killed in the real world.

~

Max Phillips

At this point, Max doesn't believe there's anything out there that could take him on. He's already the undead. All he has to fear is a wooden stake to the heart, but who's crazy enough to try that on him? *Cough, cough*

~

Pero Tovar

With what happened at the Wall in China, is there anything that's going to top seeing and fighting a Tao Tie? If you can find one thing that would scare Pero more than that, I will be empressed.

~

Javier Peña

The CIA in its entirety. There isn't a ghost, ghoul, or monster that could top the gore he's seen in Columbia, but he'd rather take on any of them if means not having to deal with the CIA again.

~

Jack

I think Jack wants to run head long into danger. Especially if it means hunting down the guy who killed his wife. His life means nothing with her gone. He will take on anyone or anything.

~

Ezra

Ezra has met his fair share of unsavory characters, but if he could avoid something at any cost? It would probably be going back to that godforsaken moon. The Green is his nightmare given life. He's lived it. He doesn't want to do it again.

~

Dave

Dave is the monster you should be running from. He's the one your parents tell you about when you're going out at night. The one you should be weary of and never trust. but then why can't you walk away?

~

Frankie

Another one of Santi's ops. Seriously though, Cat doesn't care for Santi's schemes anymore. The only thing that would scare him more are the ghosts of those he killed coming to haunt him.

~

Max Lord

There's a lot of things that scare Max. Diana becoming man at him and then coming for him. Barbara coming to kill him. That blasted dream stone returning and ruining his life again. What scares him the most is his ex wife; her showing up to take Alistair away from him. That would destroy Max. Hopefully that never happens.

~

Marcus Moreno

Marcus is a superhero. He's seen a lot in his time as leader of the Heroics. He's even been kidnapped by aliens and survived. Nothing is going to shake him, except losing Missy.

~

Din

I would say the past scares Din quite a bit. Especially considering that there's a lot of new problems stemming from old wounds. However, now that Grogu has returned to him, I would say that the Empire scares him more. Luckily, avoiding them is already on the agenda. And there will always be a fear of losing his son again.

~

Nico

Poltergeists. Not the movie, mind you. The actual supernatural phenomenon. Nico's lived alone for longer than he cares to admit, and he's more than positive his last place was haunted. While he visibly seems unnerved, inside he's desperate to get away. Hence why he's looking for a new house. Unfortunately, this listing is a little too big... and echos too much.

~

Dieter

Dieter isn't afraid of anything supernatural. He doesn't believe in that stuff. If anything he's afraid of his stash running out. He can't deal with his life style without it. Though I suppose he could just quit instead.... Nah.

~

Javi Gutierrez

The twins from the Shining. While Javi can appreciate the artistry of the film, there's just something about the girls that just peaks his anxiety. The speaking in sync. The eerie standing at the end of the hallway. Javi has even beem offered to stay at the Stanley Hotel where the movie was made. He turned it down out of fear the girls would be there, though he would never admit that to anyone.

~

Joel

Joel is in the middle of the zombie apacolypse... I'll give you three guesses as to what he wants to avoid.

[lady-thorn]

The Dragon’s Hoard Pt. 3

Summary: The beginning of a life-changing adventure.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen & Ravella Whitmore (OC)

Warnings: Smut. Fluff. ESL, please be patient. Unedited.

Word count: +12k

Disclaimer: I’d meant to post this earlier, but life’s been crazy; at least, I’ll be able to post pt. 4 soon. I love Ravella and Aemond. I’m actually thinking of writing this as a shorter serialized stuff, because I do have plans, so any feedback is appreciated. I hope you enjoy it.

***

Aemond looked at his reflection in the mirror. This time, his eye didn’t drift to the background, where Ravella, back half-covered by that glorious curtain of glossy black hair, slept on her side, still enjoying the leftover heat of his body. No, now he was staring at himself.

The scar was hideous. Hence the eyepatch dangling off his fingers — a measure of protection. Only… he didn’t want to wear it anymore.

He’d never wanted to, really. It had been necessary, however, so he wouldn’t offend the ladies, many of whom got faint whenever they saw the maimed prince coming. That always filled Aemond with shame, and no matter what his mother and sister said about any woman being lucky to have his love, he didn’t believe them, finding peace at the idea of an arranged marriage. Naturally, his wife would’ve despised his looks, but with an arrangement of that sort, he wouldn’t have to fight for her. Wouldn’t be haunted by the prospect of her rejection. Fulfilling their duties to their Houses would’ve had to suffice.

The thing was, after getting the sapphire, he shouldn’t have worn the patch. Ravella had called him Symeon Star-Eyes, and asked that he not hide behind the eyepatch. At the time, he didn’t have words to explain his choice to wear it wasn’t to hide, but to avoid causing discomfort to others. How could he say that when the woman he loved accepted him as he were, and didn’t consider him lesser than for being eyeless? When she’d compared him to a hero of old, and went so far as getting him a dual-bladed staff, the same weapon legends said Symeon used to fight? 

Three months had passed since they were wed in the godswood, in the eyes of the old gods and the new. Three months since Ravella scolded him for belittling himself over the loss of his eye. 

Three months since his wife stated her ownership of him. 

His lips curved at the memory. Helaena had told him he was the dragon jealously hoarding a butterfly, but his sister omitted — likely because she didn’t see it — the fact that it was the butterfly the one who wielded real power; she could make the dragon bend to his knees for her, fly to the confines of the world to get her heart’s desire. A command, and the dragon was her willing slave. 

That she wanted nothing but his love, and to build a family with him, humbled him in a way nothing else could. There were days he had to pinch himself to admit his life was true, and Ravella — the former bane of his existence — did love him. Not too long ago, they’d have probably considered their love a nightmare. 

“You’re so handsome when thoughtful…” she drawled in a voice husky by sleep. 

Aemond strode back to their bed, sitting beside her. “Per you, I’m the most handsome man in the world.” 

“You are,” she pinched his cheek, eyes roaming over his naked body. “Are you going to the training yard?” 

“Yes. I need to train today, if I ever hope to wield your gift in battle,” he grinned. “However, I’m going to the Pit first, unless you want me to stay with you in the godswood?” 

“No, you wouldn’t appreciate my art,” she pinched his cheek again. “Although you’d make me feel good about it.” 

Aemond had asked his father, King Viserys, to allow Ravella to carve up the weirwood tree, and Viserys granted it. Only, it took Ravella several weeks to decide what to carve, as she exchanged messages with several Houses that still worshipped the old gods of the forest instead of the Seven. While she refused to divulge what she was going to carve, she was very open about her suspicions — that the tree had been carved so long ago, though its continued growth deformed the carvings and made them look like bumps in the bark. At least, that was the theory she’d come up with after talking to a Blackwood. 

Now, over a hundred years after the Conquest, the weirwood was finally “adult” enough to sustain the carving she meant to make, and carry it on through the years. 

She was grateful he was able to secure his father’s permission for her to carve up the weirwood, as that would allow the old gods to be strong in the south once more. Just yesterday, Lord Blackwood had approached Ravella to chat with her about the upcoming carving, and Aemond had a feeling it’d be a spectacle. 

“Are you going to the Pit to continue teaching Vhagar how to protect me?” He nodded, and she rolled her eyes in false impatience. “You know it makes me mad that you’ll say you’re training her, but not how.” 

He smirked. “You might find out soon enough. What are you going to carve up?”

 “A face,” she wiggled her eyebrows, pointing to a bag containing a collection of chisels and sharp blades, unable to mask her animation. He scowled in answer, unimpressed by her secrecy, but the grimace only sent her into a fit of giggles, the sweet sound titillating against his eardrums. That’s what true satisfaction sounded like, he thought, bending down to give her a kiss. 

She pulled him closer, until he was lying on top of her. His right hand found her breast, the pad of his thumb drawing circles around her hardened nipple, his mouth swallowing her moan. His left delved between her legs, and his breath caught— “You’re so wet,” he mumbled against her ear. It shouldn’t surprise him; there were some days she became a ravenous, frantic beast. Aemond couldn’t tell if it was only the lust she felt for him, or if it was her way of forcing a pregnancy. Ravella was eager for a child, after all. 

Last night, she made him leave his family’s company before dinner was over. He got worried about the way she was rubbing her temples and forehead, and asked his parents to excuse them. Ravella refused seeing a maester, insisting she needed a good night’s sleep, so Aemond took her to their quarters — instead of carrying her. When the door bolted shut behind him, he turned around to find her hurling her body against his, kissing him and trying to undress both of them. 

He didn’t scowl. He didn’t like being lied to, but he could forgive her for that transgression — at least, that was the idea until she told him she was unwell. She laughed against his lips, saying he could cure her headache. And then she forced him to lie down flat on his back, and rode him with an intensity that had them both groaning out loud and banging the bed against the wall. 

“Aemond,” her hands closed around his shoulders, “stop.” He did, and knelt down on the bed. She followed him, sitting up. “Shit,” she shook her head, looking at his blood-stained fingers. 

“I don’t mind,” he tried to kiss her again. 

“I do.” 

He sighed. It was his turn to shake his head. The erection he was sporting wasn’t going anywhere. “Fine. Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?” 

She laughed. “No, my love. In fact…” she said after thinking better. “Come here.” 

He crawled his usual side of the bed where she was patting the mattress, and lied down. Maybe she needed to not look, he thought, and the feeling got stronger as she cleaned his fingers on her forsaken nightgown. “I don’t mind, Ravella. Really.” 

“I know. But the bed would be a mess. Let me,” she insisted when he tried to reach for her. 

He settled. She smiled, then lowered her head, closing her lips around his nipple and taking a deep suck. His cock, already rock-hard, became a diamond. If that’s what she felt when he sucked on her nipples, then he’d make sure to do that all the time… 

He recalled that was how he’d given her first orgasm, in the cold, rainy darkness of the kingswood. He teased her breasts with his hands and lips until she came, screaming and trembling. Then he went on to claim more climaxes from her overworked body by worshipping the sweet flesh between her thighs. 

By getting addicted to her. 

“Does this feel good?” she asked after taking a lick of his hipbone. 

“Better than good,” he mumbled, opening his eye to see her beam. “Ravella—” 

“It isn’t fair that you leave my bed unsatisfied, husband,” she said, voice severe, fingers working his shaft. Back then, he’d wondered what his cock would look like between her hands. A month later, with their wedding, he knew, just as he knew what it looked like coming in and out of her, thanks to the mirror he’d placed across the bed so she could watch as he fucked her. 

“Please…” he wasn’t above begging. 

“What do you want?” she arched a brow, squeezing the cockhead. He was too thick for her to close her hand around. 

“Your mouth.” 

“You pervert,” she said, but laughed and did as he asked… kind of. She didn’t part her lips to take him, but did as she was wont to — covered the shaft with soft, close-lipped kisses, using his juices to rub her mouth against his skin, pressing her tongue against the throbbing veins. 

That first night, Aemond was resented she was using him — the conclusion of what they must do to retain and generate heat came from him, but it was Ravella’s decision to explore his body so she’d learn how to pleasure her future husband. He couldn’t describe what he felt at the idea of her with another. Now, though, he was grateful of the lesson she learned, because it made her pretty much uninhibited in his arms. She was comfortable voicing her wants and needs and making demands, and encouraged him to do the same; she didn’t consider anything shameful, for “lovemaking’s a physical way to love each other,” as she’d put it. 

Moreover, Ravella ached to be a mother. And she’d figured out that Aemond was equally stimulated by the idea, to the point that she used the imagery of his breeding her to make him mindless with lust. 

His hips shot up when her lips closed around the head. She couldn’t go past the first four inches of his cock, no matter how hard she tried; even so, he was at peace with not knowing what it’d be like to be fully inside her, massaged by the tight muscles of her throat. He forced himself to hold still while she worked her mouth around him, unwilling to put more strains on her; the first time she’d tried to suck him, he feared her lips would split. 

“Ravella…” he moaned a few minutes later, while she sucked on the head as if she were nursing. He said her name again, because she liked the sound of it on his lips, coating with both yearning and agony. 

A deep rumble formed in the back of his throat when she intensified her movements without taking him off her mouth, which she always did when she noticed his orgasm was about to happen. His hand found her hair, and though he tried to force her to stay quiet so he could pull out, she refused. Her eyes, a perfect mix of violet and blue, were nearly black as they pled in silence that he let her finish, so he relaxed his grip… somewhat. He kept holding the strands, massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers, but stopped fighting her. 

“I’m going to—” he warned, breathless. 

She beat on his lower belly, opening her mouth more. As she did, Aemond growled, his eye rolling back as he shouted his release to the sky. 

She swallowed each spurt of his come, and cleaned up the rest running down his shaft with her tongue. When she licked at her lips and pressed them together, as if she were applying a balm she’d bought to keep them moisturized, Aemond lost it — he brought her closer and claimed her lips. “You’re still wet,” he could feel it against his skin. 

“My blood—” 

“Ride me anyway.” 

“Your cock’s limp,” she pressed their foreheads together, staring into his eye. 

“And whose fault is that?” she laughed, weak. “Ride my thigh. Friction that sweet cunt against me until you come.” 

It was clear the suggestion shocked as much as it aroused her. She did as he said, straddling his left thigh. In no time, she was moaning his name, her body undulating, clit constrained between their bodies, her wetness coating him. His nails dug into her hips as he held them to help her grind harder. He watched her flushed face, a violent possession spreading through him. That was how she was supposed to look. 

“Aemond, my breasts feel so heavy… they’re so sensitive—” 

“I can’t touch them now. Do it yourself,” he ordered darkly, and she obeyed. He licked his lips as he watched. He wanted to take each nipple in his mouth and tug, but didn’t. Ravella pleasuring herself was so much better, he was loathe of ruining the moment. His gaze closed on the bruises his passion drew on her skin last night. He loved watching them. Her. 

The wave came crashing upon her when he tightened the muscle of his thigh, making it contract against her clit. She screamed his name, her spine arching at the lower back. She fell on his chest, heaving against his skin, the puddle of her juices squishing as she moved, allowing them to run down to the linen. He kissed her forehead. 

*** 

One hour and several kisses later, she took his hand into hers as they left their quarters to have breakfast with the rest of his family, after which Aemond kissed her knuckles and joined Aegon, leaving Ser Arryk behind to guard her. The idea of needing a Kingsguard in the godswood was ridiculous, but Ravella knew her husband wouldn’t change his mind; as a prince, he was used to getting his way, and she supposed it’d cost her nothing to oblige him. 

She was, per his own admission, his greatest treasure. 

“Lady Ravella,” Lord Corlys Velaryon greeted her. His wife, Princess Rhaenys, was beside him, her hand tucked between his. It never failed to amaze her how those two behaved like their love was still new and green, and she wished for the same happening to her and Aemond. 

“Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys.” 

“Are you going to the godswood?” 

“Yes,” she smiled. “Are you going there, as well?” 

“Yes. Would you mind if we walked with you?” the princess asked. 

“‘Course not. I could do with the company.” 

In a matter of seconds, she began questioning her acceptance of their company, for a few seconds later, their grandchildren fell into step behind them. Ravella didn’t mind the princes and ladies, but Aemond would, if he were there. The four were directly involved in his blinding, with the younger boy having cut his eye. She wanted to hate Prince Lucerys — Aemond’s nephew — with the same fervor Aemond did, but as an outsider, she considered it a waste of time. The children were shaped by the adults raising them. In her mind, there was no doubt their relationship wouldn’t have turned out so strained if the rest of House Targaryen had taken measures to create a safe family life for the children. 

They hadn’t, and Aemond ended up hurt. 

Thankfully, she was able to shake off her uneasiness and make small talk with them, even if she could feel the slight mockery in the princes’ voices whenever they mentioned she was their aunt — something they took great joy in repeating, until they realized she wasn’t upset. 

“Lord Blackwood!” she opened up a smile, and the man, a few years older than Aemond, approached them, paying due note to Aemond’s family. “Have you come to watch?” 

“I’d be lying if I said I’m not curious, my lady,” he smiled, his dark-gray eyes sparkling. 

“Maybe you’d like to help?” she offered. 

He held up both hands. “Oh no, I couldn’t. That’s your right. I’m just going to watch. I wrote to Alysanne. A mistake, of course. Now she wants to come to King’s Landing.” 

“I’d love to see your sister again. And your son, I imagine he’s all grown, isn’t he?” 

Lord Samwell agreed with her policy of strengthening the ties between the followers of the old gods, so they made it a point of keeping correspondence with each other, as well with Houses from the north. Not only that, but she suspected that, if Lord Blackwood hadn’t been married at 12, and she hadn’t married Aemond, he’d have proposed to her, and she’d have accepted. It wouldn’t have been a love match, but as she’d told Aemond’s parents, she’d settle for a good man who kept her faith, and Lord Blackwood had a good reputation. 

(That was assuming she were informed of Lord Blackwood’s offer, since his parents had rejected some over the years behind her back, hoping she’d end up marrying Aemond. She tried, but failed to see what had led them to believe they’d be a good match, when they spent the entire time bickering.) 

Engaging Lord Samwell in conversation made it easier to avoid the Velaryons and Targaryens. Not to the point of rudeness, though; she tried to include them in their conversation, but mostly, Aemond’s nephews and cousins just stood listening. 

“Did you bring a sketch?” Samwell laughed. 

“Yes, of course. I don’t want to offend the gods.” 

He shook his head. “They’ll finally have eyes here. I’m sure they won’t be offended.” 

“Yes, but their eyes won’t change. Pleasing them is important. I shudder just imagining how accomplished a carver I’ll turn out to be,” she said, and raised the hand holding the smallest chisel. 

She took a while to arrange her skirts to allow herself freedom of movement when she knelt, and voiced a quick prayer to make the carving justice. She knew there was a big difference between what she envisioned and what she might accomplish, and truly didn’t want to harm the tree. Like Aemond, the bark would be forever marked. 

Onyx, her raven, landed on a branch, black wings spread, his curious, intense black eyes watching her with undivided attention. Other ravens joined him, but she didn’t pay them mind, saying, “I’ve tried to discover how they made the first carvings, where to begin from, but couldn’t find anything. So, I’m just going to start by the eyebrows.” 

Forty minutes later, she took the handkerchief Lord Blackwood held out and wiped at the sweat at the roots of her hair. Her methodical work was paying off — she’d carved the contour of one eyebrow and eye, as well as some discreet laugh lines at the corner of the eye and above, at the “forehead”. Her fingers were stained red with the sap running off, and her smile was strained as she returned the handkerchief to Lord Blackwood. Still, she’d anticipated the sap running in heavy rivulets down the white bark, and planned to carve a smiling mouth, so the tree would appear to be laughing so hard, it cried. 

“Shouldn’t you carve a serious face? I heard most faces are solemn,” Lady Baela asked. 

“They are. The Blackwoods’ have a serious, but not unkind face,” she grinned up at Lord Blackwood, then glanced at Aemond’s cousin. “But for me, the godswood is a place meant to do one’s soul good. It’s where I feel at peace. If I’m sad, I come here to get cheered up. This is what I’m trying to convey.” 

“Like the Mother’s statues are always benevolent,” Princess Rhaenys spoke up, and although she was serious, something about her bone structure made it look like she had a permanent smirk on her face. 

“Precisely like that,” Ravella confirmed. 

“So, you’re carving a female face?” Prince Lucerys asked. 

“No, she’s carving Aemond’s,” the king’s hoarse voice made them all pause and look at him. Ravella tried to stand up and curtsy as everyone else, but Aemond’s father didn’t let her. “Keep on, child. Does he know?” 

“It’s a surprise, Your Grace. He has no idea.” 

Viserys chuckled. “I understand. That’s why he isn’t here, trying to stop you.” 

“Why?” Prince Jacaerys asked, sneering. “Shouldn’t it be wrong to carve his face? Besides, he’s only got one eye…” 

“This face will have one eye, too, when I’m finished,” Ravella gave him an ugly onceover. “As for it being wrong, I was going to carve up my father’s face, but then settled on Aemond’s.” Not because her father’s face wasn’t as vivid in her memory anymore, but because he hadn’t been haunted by a scar and painful memories that made him doubt his self-worth. “When I’m done, no one will have a choice but to see what I see when I look at my husband.” 

Her response obviously angered the younger prince, but Ravella didn’t care. She was smiling to herself, her father-in-law’s smirk, so similar to Aemond’s, lost on her as she worked. 

It didn’t take long for Lord Blackwood’s handkerchief to drip red, useless, so she started to wipe off the sap on her own gown, for she was risking slipping her hold on the chisels and cutting her fingers off — and Aemond would be furious, she thought to herself with a silent giggle. 

The left eye was carved deep, the shape of an eyepatch surrounding it, a scar just like Aemond’s cutting through it. Then she looked around, and finding what she wanted, let out a little scream and held up the weirwood seed, meaning for it to represent Aemond’s sapphire eye, and used the chisel’s handle to secure it inside the eye after deepening a portion of the hole. The red sap made it appear like the improvised eyeball was bleeding, and while it wasn’t what she’d meant, she took great delight in the way Aemond’s family flinched. 

She’d have to tell him about this, once they were alone in their room. 

*** 

Aemond had no doubts where Ravella was, and the crowd around the heart tree confirmed his suspicions. He tried to keep his arrival a surprise, but her stupid raven, perched up in a branch, spread his wings and croaked in a shrill voice, “Toothleeesssss!” 

He gritted his teeth. One day, he’d shoot an arrow between that little bastard’s tiny eyes and cook him into a stew. His anger inflamed when he saw Ravella’s shoulders shaking, though she did nothing to acknowledge his presence. She was the reason the cleverly evil animal called him that. 

At least, no one seemed to catch up. He much preferred the raven calling him One-Eye. That was scarier than Toothless. The latter made Aemond suspect he’d lose fear and respect, as if his bite had no… well, bite. A toothless dragon, as his wife had put it. 

“Aemond, come here,” Viserys said, so Aemond went to stand beside him, a little apart from the crowd. He scowled when the king mouthed silently, “Toothless?” and laughed when Aemond nodded, glaring a hole into Ravella’s head. 

Please, gods, don’t let milk of the poppy make Father tell anyone about this, he prayed in thoughts. Aemond wouldn’t survive if Aegon were to find out. His elder brother could be mean when he wanted to — and he always wanted to. 

“What do you think?” his father pointed to the tree. 

“I—” he paused, doing a double take, frowning slightly before a foolish smile curved his lips and his heart skipped a beat when he realized what it was. “The woman’s infatuated,” he said, loud enough for her to hear. 

Ravella laughed, not denying his words. “Just you wait until I start on the lips,” she said, her voice melodic. 

“Ravella, don’t,” he crossed his arms, unwilling to blush. It wasn’t uncommon for Ravella to rub the pads of her fingers on his lips and comment on how much they were ‘begging for a sweet kiss’. If she did that to the tree, he’d be lost. 

“Ravella, do,” she winked at him, laughing. 

He sighed, shaking his head. His wife was impossible — it was why he loved her so. 

As the hours passed, the crowd dwindled. Many left to have lunch, including his father, although the king returned not long after, accompanied by Aemond’s mother. Only Lord Blackwood, and the men sworn to him, remained throughout it. 

“Is she supposed to do that?” Alicent asked, brow furrowed, and Aemond stopped watching his wife to look at her carving. It was his face, carved in gigantic proportions — his eyes alone were each the size of Ravella’s fist. But once she finished the face, she began carving a winged creature… not a dragon, but the ravens, especially the one looking over his shoulder, had a distinctive reptilian look about them, and he could also make out the faint shape of a butterfly’s fluttering wings. 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, glancing at Lord Blackwood. “My lord?” 

“Prince! Prince! Prince!” The raven next to Onyx croaked. 

Samwell’s dark-gray eyes were covered in a milky-white curtain, but acquired some focus as he blinked to stare at Aemond, though they remained slightly vacant. It was pretty much the same way Ravella’s looked when she was warging. “My prince?” 

“Is that supposed to happen?” Aemond nodded at the tree. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” the man replied, but he didn’t sound worried. “It isn’t uncommon that the gods use us as tools to enforce their wills. I wouldn’t be concerned—” 

The shrill scream that escaped Viserys’ mouth interrupted him. 

*** 

“Ravella? Little butterfly, wake up,” the beloved voice came from a long distance.

“What?” she opened her eyes, and found herself staring at the reddened weirwood, a chisel two inches away on the ground, its broken end aimed at her eye. “Aemond?” 

“My love,” her husband clutched her limp form to his chest, kissing her temple, and holding her tight. “You passed out. The maester is coming—” 

“No,” she tried to stand up, and he helped her sit. “I don’t need a maester,” she held on to his wrist, though that was a lost battle. Aemond wouldn’t accept her rejecting an examination. “Everything I’m feeling is related to my moon’s blood.” 

He nodded, but the concern didn’t leave his face. “I’d feel better if you saw him anyway. You fainted. Father had a seizure. We were rushing to his side when you simply dropped to the ground. I was so scared.” 

While he carried her to their chambers, he told her about the incident — of how she and Lord Blackwood’s minds seemed to vanish, as if they were warging, and then the king screamed and passed out as well. Even her comment about his father’s frail health didn’t dissuade his resolve, so she accepted to see the maester, if only to tranquilize him before she explained that what had happened was magical in nature. 

Grand Maester Orwyle said she was fine, so Ravella expected to be let go, but Aemond insisted she rest. “It’s late,” he pointed out, “you can’t finish the carving. You also need to eat.” 

After studying him for a while, and disliking being the reason of his worry, she nodded. She didn’t like being bedridden, but as Rosey scolded her for being careless — spending so long under the sun, without eating, in her condition (as if Ravella were sick), when she knew fully well there were months her menses were terrible —, she didn’t put up a fight. But she insisted on seeing the king. 

Surprisingly, Aemond didn’t argue. He took her hand and put it on his elbow for support, and let her determine the pace of their walk as they went to the king’s quarters. His mother met them by the door, her eyes rimmed red… a common occurrence as King Viserys got worse day after day. “How is he?” Aemond asked. 

“Resting. The seizure didn’t cause any damage. However, the fall produced a new wound and—” the queen hid her face from view. 

Aemond hugged his mother, and Ravella looked away. She couldn’t bear that forlorn look on his face. For all the complications in his relationship with his father, Aemond didn’t hate him. His current despair was directed as much at the disease eating at the king, making his flesh decay as if he were a corpse, as it was at his inability to shield his mother, because that’s what he judged his lot in life: to protect the people he loved. 

“Can we go in?” he asked. 

“Of course,” she wiped at her tears. “Everyone’s come to see him. Rhaenyra left a few minutes ago. I believe she means to fly to Essos, discover if anyone has developed a similar disease.” 

Search parties had been sent in the past, Ravella knew. But it seemed like King Viserys’ disease was unique. Maybe a dragonrider could go farther; the envoys the Crown had sent went as far as Norvos. 

Ravella stayed close to the queen, assuring her she was fine, and attributing her fainting to her menses and lack of eating. As Alicent reprehended her, fretting with motherly concern like Rosey, she watched Aemond approach his father’s bed, as if afraid of what he might find. She averted her gaze, ashamed and jealous both, that Aemond had parents to worry about and for, while she didn’t. She had a family — her mother’s family in Dorne, as well as Aemond’s relatives —, but they weren’t her parents. She had two mother figures, but neither her grandmother nor Alicent were her mother, the same way Uncle Arthur wasn’t her father, though she loved them with all her heart. 

It was unfair that her mother was taken from the side of the husband she’d given up so much for, and the child they’d spent so long yearning for, that her father didn’t get to live long enough to see his only daughter grow up and marry a man he’d have approved of. Deep down, Ravella was terrified of the same happening to herself. 

“Excuse me, Your Grace, Lady Ravella,” she greeted Ser Steffon Darklyn without paying attention, “Princess Rhaenyra requests your presence.” 

Alicent answered, “Please, ser, tell her we’ll join her shortly.” 

The man nodded and walked away, leaving them with Ser Criston Cole, Alicent’s sworn shield. “Don’t worry about him, Your Grace. If there’s anything to be done to help the king, we’ll find a way,” Ravella said, smiling at the older woman. 

“He’s unconscious,” Aemond said, having ended his visit. 

“That’s because of the sweetsleep. He was in a lot of pain. Would you join Rhaenyra and the others now?” 

Ravella could tell he didn’t like the idea, but he wasn’t about to deny his mother, so the three of them went to the chamber where the Princess of Dragonstone waited with the rest of the family. Aemond was the first one to go in, a scowl on his face after Ravella pointed out she and Alicent weren’t Targaryen enough to. 

Soon enough, the adult and teenaged dragonriders were in a heated discussion about the king’s health, so Alicent, as his caretaker, cleared her throat and stated the facts, “Viserys isn’t getting better. No matter what we do, the most we’ve accomplished is delaying the inevitable.” 

“Is he—?” Prince Daemon asked. Ravella felt sorry for the king’s younger brother. They were close, and hearing that the person one admired the most was dying had to hurt. 

“I believe so,” the queen’s face was sympathetic. “Grandmaester Orwyle has said he can help with the pain, but the wounds… won’t be stopped. They come and take on a strange shape. You’ve seen it, Prince Daemon.” 

“I’ll fly to Essos. Someone must know what’s happening to him,” the Rogue Prince began pacing. “A reward should be offered for information—” 

“You wouldn’t be able to tell if the information you get is real,” Ravella interrupted. For some reason, the older prince paid attention to her. She leaned forward, “I don’t know what you mean to do, but payment isn’t enough. And even if the information makes him feel better, I don’t know if it’s enough to restore his health. Doesn’t mean you can’t try, though.” 

“What do you suggest?” Aemond’s uncle asked. 

She looked around, and noticed everyone was holding their breath. Even Aemond. She rubbed her lips together, and said, “If I were a dragonrider, I’d search in Essos, flying past Qarth, to Volatis. I’d go to Pentos and Braavos and Asshai. I’d even go to Ibben, talk to the Jogos Nhai, the Dothraki… I’d also send someone to the Citadel, and to the Wall, to search the records there. I mean, I’ve never heard of anyone suffering from the same condition as the king. Doesn’t mean anything, really. But I wonder if this isn’t something he caught after flying somewhere he shouldn’t with Balerion.” 

“You mean like Princess Aerea?” Aemond asked. 

Ravella nodded. “Exactly like her.” Aerea Targaryen held the distinctive honor of having been the heir to the Iron Throne under two different kings; however, what truly mattered was her mysterious disappearance and death two years after claiming her dragon, Balerion — the same one Viserys claimed decades later. Something had happened to the Black Dread, which returned with a huge wound on his flank, while Princess Aerea boiled from the inside out from a fever. 

At least, that was the official story. Reality was far more sinister, and Ravella only knew of it because Aemond had told her — the long-deceased Septon Barth and Grand Maester Benifer were the only two people who’d had access to the dying princess, and agreed to never speak of her death to anyone, even her family. Still, the memories of her last hours were so haunting, both men had written detailed accounts of it, and hid their diaries, which Aemond somehow uncovered some years ago while researching something about his House’s history. 

“You should tell them,” Ravella said, touching his hand, when his relatives merely stared at them. 

Aemond took a deep breath. “I’d better read it,” he said. When he came back, it was with a scroll — he’d copied the writings of both septon and maester because the diaries were too old, falling apart. “From Grand Maester Benifer,” he started after clearing his throat. 

I joined the Citadel thinking I’d achieve as much success as a boy born in my conditions could. I did — the son of a stonemason and a kitchen girl became the Grand Maester for King Jaehaerys Targaryen. Serving the king, I’ve had the opportunity to continue learning and teaching, cultivating the clarity of thought that my mentors stimulated in order to clear one’s mind from worldly preoccupations so we could unlock the secrets of the world. That came in handy for a man like me, who isn’t of blind faith like Septon Barth, even if I’m willing to admit there are times when all hope seems lost… until it isn’t. There is something out there, even when my eyes can’t see, but most times, I don’t know if that something is the gods, or not. I used to be at peace with this uncertainty, for it brought me relief and a sense of security. My easiness died the day Princess Aerea turned out to be my greatest lesson. 

The moon turned twice since her return to King’s Landing and death. Something that should’ve filled us with joy turned out to be a nightmare — not that anyone but Septon Barth and I known it, naturally. Perhaps Ser Lucamore suspects, as he was the one person who had contact with the poor girl. 

Barth and I agreed to never speak of it, but I can’t avoid thinking about everything that happened since Ser Lucamore placed her on my table. So I write it down, in the hopes the parchment will absorb my horror with the same diligence it does the ink. That the sand I pour once I’m finished covers the weight in my heart. It’s hopeless, I know. But if the Seven are good, they’ll grant me the gift of forgetfulness as I grow older… if only I were sure what’s out there is the Seven, and not something else. 

When I saw the princess, I thought she’d been tortured — she was skinny, just a bag of rattling bones with some strange cyst-like swellings underneath her skin. But when I touched her brow, I noticed she had a fever. I drew her many cold baths, and brewed so many teas, it looked like I was seasoning a piece of meat. Perhaps the comparison is unfortunate, because that’s what was happening to the poor princess. Nothing I did helped, and she got worse. No disease, not even greyscale, had ever made me feel so incompetent before. Everything I did turned out to be insufficient, and even milk of the poppy failed to give the young princess any relief. 

When, after hours, it became clear to me that my efforts to lower her fever only seemed to make her worse, I heaved a sigh of defeat and called for Barth, while doing my best to keep the King and the Queen out of my lab. By the time the septon got here, the princess’s dried skin was bright red, as if she were losing buckets of blood and had red-hot lava burning in her veins. 

The worst part was her talking. Something had gotten to the princess, but she never said what. Only apologies and assurances of her non-ill intentions were muttered through cracked and bloody lips. Her pleas for death would’ve shattered even the foulest man’s heart, I’m sure. 

And yet, inspired by something — Barth’s unwavering faith, I think —, I found new strength to carry on the efforts to save that child’s life. I failed. But what happened while Aerea Targaryen’s body failed was much worse. When the fever reached such a degree that her eyes cracked like eggs and exploded inside her skull… I thought it was over, for no one could survive that. But then, as Barth and I lowered her into the last, coldest bath I could draw, feeling the cysts press up against our hands, her skin broke, letting out things that squirmed and wiggled in the water, letting out chilling, low little screams of their own, as if they were being tortured. 

I’ve never seen an end so painful or agonizing as that of Princess Aerea Targaryen. I often wake up in the middle of the night, from a nightmare. I wonder if the child knew she was dying, if she had conscience of it. If, even with all the milk of the poppy I gave her, she was still lucid, trapped in the horror of her own body, a part of her mind watching as if it were happening to someone else. And I can’t tell if it’s worse that she was or not. Other times, I dream of her accusing violet eyes, weeping blood while she, from the depths of her ravaged throat, demands to know why I didn’t save her, or why I didn’t let her die sooner. 

I wonder if Barth thinks there was a reason why a child so young had to through something so terrible. To me, a man not well-versed in the will of the gods, what happened to Aerea Targaryen looks like a deliberately, exceedingly cruel punishment for some perceived slight. That is, if what happened to her was brought on by the gods instead of some other, evil force. 

Barth’s certain the Princess attracted the attention of something in the ruins of Valyria; it’d explain the injury on Balerion’s side, the one that isn’t healing. However, I can’t help but go a step further: Aerea was infected with something. Not knowing how she got those human-faced maggots into her body, I can’t help but wonder if she wasn’t held captive and experimented on, like the animals kept at the Citadel for vivisections. And if the people who put those things in her didn’t release her with the intention that those maggots break out and spread. And now I’m afraid of thinking more of it, because the ones who hurt her are still out there somewhere. 

I wish I could forget what I saw, but it’s branded on my brain — even if I were to give in to the urge of gouging out my eyes, the last hours of Princess Aerea Targaryen on this earth would be my last sight. The horrifying image of her emaciated, burning body, and the things that burst through her skin could drive even a wildling from beyond the Wall mad. I’d welcome the sweetness of losing my mind, but I fear this is a nightmare I’ll never wake up from. 

He looked around the table, saying, “Septon Barth’s more detailed. Pay attention,” and went on to read the septon’s recounting. 

Having Aemond tell her of the princess’s death was one thing, but hearing the accounts of two witnesses made it real, especially because Aemond hadn’t described the poor girl’s death with so many stomach-churning details. Ravella’s heart broke for the princess, whose only wish in life was to have a home. 

She frowned, biting down on her lips, fisting her hands so tight, she almost drew blood. She wanted to find whatever did that to a child and kill them. Punish them. But there was nothing she could do, so she prayed that, whatever happened to a Targaryen after death, Aerea was in a better place now, where nothing and no one could hurt her, that she was back together with her beloved twin sister and both of them finally had a bond with their mother, Princess Rhaena, who spent months flying the skies in search of her daughter, but couldn’t make it back to King’s Landing to see her one last time. 

Aemond’s soft touch startled her, so she whipped her head to stare at him. After giving her hand a squeeze, he put the papers on the table, and said, “Balerion was the first dragon to live in the Pit. I wonder if the injury he suffered was so great that it made him more susceptible to death.” 

“Forty years doesn’t seem so short, cousin,” Princess Rhaenys said. 

“For us, maybe. But dragons can live centuries,” he looked at his uncle. “Do you know if anything happened to Father?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“A wound or injury or illness… Anything that could explain what’s happening to him,” he pressed. 

Daemon thought about it. “He tried to fly Balerion to Dragonstone the day he claimed him, but Balerion wouldn’t go. A year later, he was dead.” 

“And he never tried to claim another dragon?” Alicent asked. 

The king’s brother shook his head. “No dragonrider has ever had two mounts.” 

“Doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Aegon spoke up. “Maybe he could try now. Vermithor and Silverwing are riderless and know him. He could try.” 

“Dragons make a rider stronger. That’s why I was able to recover so fast,” Aemond whispered to her while his family debated Aegon’s suggestion. 

“What no one is taking into account,” Rhaenyra spoke up, “is that Father has never tried to claim another dragon. I wish he would, brother,” she locked gazes with Aegon, “but he told me once that we’ve fooled ourselves into believing we control dragons.” 

“We wouldn’t have made that mistake if every living Targaryen knew of Princess Aerea,” Aemond retorted, his voice dry. 

His half-sister nodded, gracefully conceding the point. “I imagine there was a reason behind King Jaehaerys’ decision to keep her death a secret. He should’ve shared it with his children,” she glanced at Rhaenys, “Did your father never say anything?” 

The Lady of Driftmark shook her head. “That was so long before my father’s birth… the only thing he said was that he believed Princess Aerea contracted a mysterious fever in Valyria.” 

“How did he explain the Doctrine of Exceptionalism?” Alicent asked. Everyone looked at her. “You know what it is.” 

“Targaryen superiority,” Daemon surmised. 

“Yes. What I mean is, if Targaryens are so superior, how did a princess bonded to a dragon — the greatest living dragon, no less — die from a fever?” the queen stared at each one. “Someone should’ve suspected there was something wrong.” 

“True,” Daemon crossed his arms. “They blamed it on Valyria, though. Barth believes that’s where Balerion took her. You disagree?” he inquired of Aemond, who was shaking his head. 

“The Conqueror went to Volantis before he came to Westeros. He flew over Valyria and didn’t see anyone but stone men; same with older ancestors. I think if anyone lived there, they’d have tried to capture the dragons and riders they saw, right?” he sighed. “I’m not saying Balerion didn’t take her there, only—” 

“What happened to the princess was magical, not a disease of the body,” Ravella said, covering his hand with hers. “Like greyscale is said to be a curse of a Rhoynish prince against Valyria.” 

“Don’t stop now,” Princess Rhaenyra asked. Ravella was sorry the other woman was so anguished about the king that she was willing to consider what most would call ramblings. 

Aemond’s encouraging squeeze gave her some strength. She grinned at him before saying, carefully, “I’m a skinchanger. I can… transpose my conscience to that of a raven if I so choose. It isn’t something that’s perfected like dragon binding, but my family has been gifted with this ability, which I inherited from my father. House Targaryen, more than dragonriding, can see the future,” she glanced at Helaena briefly. “That’s why you were able to escape the Doom. Only… I read in a book that ancient Valyrians used blood magic to create and tame dragons, so I wonder if it could also be used to twist the dragon-rider bond.” 

“Meaning…?” Princess Rhaenyra leaned forward. 

“If you found the right spell, you could bind King Viserys to a dragon, even if he didn’t want it — the objective isn’t making him ride the dragon, but to keep him alive. I also wonder if there’s another spell to break the bond, make the dragon turn on its previous rider.” 

“You think that’s what happened to Aerea,” Aegon guessed, suddenly sharp. It was a wonder he wasn’t yet drunk. 

“To a small extent, yes,” she glanced at Aemond. “What happens when a rider gets hurt?” 

He didn’t consider her question strange, though his family did. “The day I lost my eye, Vhagar rose to the sky, roaring.” 

A silence fell upon them, broken by Helaena, “Dreamfyre went feral while I was giving birth.” 

“I had to go to the Pit and take control of her,” Aegon confirmed. 

“I had to do the same while Laena gave birth,” Daemon said, refusing to meet Rhaenys and his daughters’ eyes. 

“Syrax has always been protective of me,” Rhaenyra said. After her words, they all looked down, pondering on the implications of that. 

“Vhagar’s been crazy of late. She’s irritable, like an annoyed old person,” Aemond revealed, and although his thumb was tracing circles over Ravella’s palm beneath the table, his eye was locked on Prince Lucerys. “I doubt I’d be able to control her if we met with Lucerys and Arrax up in the sky.” 

“Doesn’t she obey you anymore?” Daemon demanded. 

“It isn’t that. She obeys me just fine. But she registers Arrax’s presence in the Pit, and becomes a hound sniffing blood. She doesn’t let me walk away from her. I can tell it’s Arrax because she changes completely. Even when I mount her, she gets different. It’s difficult to explain.” 

“In that case, we must keep Vhagar away from Prince Lucerys and his dragon,” Ravella said. 

“I agree,” Rhaenyra said, glancing at her middle son with a warning glare. “However, I must ask what you mean by Vhagar doesn’t let you walk away, brother.” 

Aemond spread his hands. “When I try, she uses her snout, her paws or her tail to shove me behind her. Some weeks ago, she held me between her talons and flew to the kingswood. I felt like a squirrel caught by a hawk. It’s worse if I am with my left to the Pit, like she considers it her duty to guard me because she knows I can’t see.” 

“She’s only started to do that now?” Daemon asked. 

“She’s always done that. Not to the point of shoving me, though. At most, she’d look left and growl. Now she seems to consider it useless.” 

“Any theories?” Rhaenys asked. 

Aemond glared at his cousin. “As a matter of fact, yes. Everyone was so amazed that your daughter chose to die valiantly, like a dragonrider,” sarcasm dripped off his words, “that nobody stopped to think what Laena ordering Vhagar to kill her did to Vhagar. Dragons are bred to protect their riders, but Laena refused to take up a dagger or something else and had her own dragon burn her to death. Vhagar had to obey the very thing dragons are trained to avoid.” 

“And you claimed her a few days after that…” the older princess said, eyes widening at the implications of it. 

A hard nod. “I was a child at the time, so I lacked the maturity to think of it, but now, I believe Vhagar would kill Lucerys even if I specifically ordered her not to. She’d consider it acceptable disobedience to fulfill her duty.” 

“She’d see it as protecting you from yourself,” Daemon spoke up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seven hells.” 

“I also vouch for keeping Prince Lucerys away from my son and his dragon,” Alicent spoke up, thoughtful. “Given the circumstances, it might be for the best.” 

“Yes, well, Vhagar is the most fearsome war dragon of our time. We must find that spell Lady Whitmore mentioned, if only to fix whatever broke in her with Laena’s death,” Daemon said. 

“How do we do that?” Alicent asked. 

“Searching the best records in our possessions,” Aemond said, looking around. “We must fly to the Wall, Dragonstone and Oldtown. Their archives are enormous, and one of us will find something about magic. That is, of course, assuming there’s such a spell.” 

*** 

“Are you really going to take me to the Wall?” Ravella asked when they were alone in their chambers. 

“Yes, unless you don’t want to go…” he inclined his head. “Why do you always get nervous when we talk of it, butterfly?” 

She sighed, and Aemond got worried at the tears welling up in her eyes. “There are many horror stories about the Wall.” 

He nodded. “True, but that’s to be expected. The Wall is a formidable structure defended by one of the oldest military organizations in the world. But there’s no need to fear, my love. We’ll be together at all times. I’ll keep you safe.” 

“I know,” she smiled, looking down, at the entwined hands. Her next question, though, made the worry return to his heart. “Have you ever felt like Vhagar is too much for you to handle?” 

“The day I claimed her, I thought she was going to burn me,” when she arched a brow, he said, “I tried to touch the ropes so I could climb, but she kept snapping her gaze to me, her mouth open, a ball of fire at the back of her throat. I was scared.” 

“But have you never felt like she could be your doom, as well?” 

“Being burned to death by a dragon I was trying to claim sounds like doom.” 

“I mean, something worse than that? Worse than losing your eye,” she hurried to add. 

Aemond frowned, then looked ahead, his gaze losing itself in the fireplace. Inside his chest, his heart was beating frantically to shake off the cold spreading through him. There was a hidden meaning to her question, and though he didn’t know what, he disliked it already. “The only thing worse I can think of is losing you. I’d give up my other eye for you.” 

There was something wrong with the way she exhaled — it was too shaky, almost as if her ribs were rattling. 

“I made a mistake—” she started. “It was an accident, but… have I ever told you it’s possible for a skinchanger to lose themselves to the animal?” 

He peered at her. “What do you mean?” 

“If a skinchanger spends too long inside the animal, they’ll be trapped there, in the animal’s body.” 

“Has it happened to you?” 

“No. Not that. But…” startled, he realized her hands were cold, and a blue tint painted the contours of her lips purple. She followed him to the settee in front of the fireplace, and didn’t complain when he covered her with a duvet. That only worried him more. Ravella wasn’t cold, he knew, because she was a vocal complainer — the physical reactions were a result of fear, and her conforming meant she needed what few comforts he could offer. 

He poured her a cup of wine, too. It’d help. 

“I visited the north when I was eight, after my father was invited to a tourney held in Winterfell.” She licked her lower lip, where a drop of wine was threatening to fall off. “In hindsight, I believe Lord Stark was going to propose a marriage alliance between me and his son, but Father was determined to keep me as heir, which would be impossible if I married a Lord Paramount’s.” 

“I like your father,” Aemond drawled, fighting against the urge of getting upon Vhagar and melting every snowflake in the north, especially the ones that landed upon Cregan Stark. It wasn’t the man’s fault that his father had that unfortunate idea of stealing Ravella away — but he’d have benefited from it, and that was enough. 

His wife kissed his cheek, saying, “You dislike Onyx, though.” Not explaining that comment, she grew serious again. “The day we left Winterfell, Father took me to the Wall. He wanted to see it after hearing a wandering crow speak of it. When we got there, as guests in Castle Black, I saw a raven perching on a tree in the forest, and skinchanged it. I didn’t know what I was doing, but at the time, it felt like an adventure. A group of rangers was riding into the forest, and we followed them. But the raven was faster, and we soon outflew them, going deep into the haunted forest. There was this stone ringwall on the top of a hill, which I later discovered was the Fist of the First Men. We flew past that, until the raven found a tree where other ravens were, overlooking another group of rangers. I could see there was something coming, but no matter how loud I screamed, they didn’t pay attention to us, even after the other ravens joined me. That was when one ran away, and the others… one climbed up a tree, the last one drew his sword when he saw this… white thing with steam… fog? I don’t know, there was just smoke coming off its body, emerge from the snow-covered trees. One, two, three… six of them. The Others. I screeched and screeched, but the ranger didn’t care. He challenged the Other and died. When his friend climbed down, also ignoring my screeching, the dead ranger rose and killed him… and looked up. And while his eyes had been black in life, in death they gleamed blue. Bluer than your sapphire. He knew we were there, and that’s when I left the raven,” her lips shook as she finished. “I woke up in the Lord Commander’s chambers, to a Black Brother scolding my father for not teaching me how to skinchange properly.” 

“What happened after?” he asked. 

“Father offered to make a very generous donation to the Night’s Watch if the Lord Commander allowed that man to accompany us to the Park, where he’d teach me more about skinchanging. My father knew something of it, but his knowledge was rudimentary, whereas Thoren grew up knowing as much about it as possible. He was born as one of the free folk — that’s how the wildlings call themselves —, and taken in by the Watch after his family’s death. Anyway, the Lord Commander accepted my father’s offer, and Thoren fulfilled his end of the bargain. He was so disgusted when he realized skinchanging was instinctive south of the Wall,” she shook her head, drinking her wine. 

“Didn’t they do anything about the Others?” Aemond asked. 

“They can’t. The Watch is dwindling, and even if not, there aren’t many people who believe the Others are real. It’s terrible. That’s why I got nervous on the isle and asked you to sing. I’ve always known the Others would return, I just never thought I might witness it.” 

He sighed. His poor little butterfly. “You stay here. I’ll get Vhagar and fly beyond the Wall—” 

She lunged to her feet, and next thing he knew, she was gripping his hands, knelling on the floor between his legs, frantic and choking on her own breathing. “Don’t! Please, don’t do this! Promise me you won’t!” 

He didn’t care for histrionics, being too rational to withstand those. But Ravella’s agitation made him pause. He pulled her close, and not breaking their gaze, vowed, “I won’t. Be calm, my love. I’ll need your help, though — I must find this Thoren, so I can make the threat coming our way known. Will you help me?” 

“Yes,” she said, fisting her hand through his hair, forcing his neck to move so she could press their lips together. He felt the salt of her tears. “Just don’t endanger yourself. Please—” 

He promised again that he wouldn’t, his voice sweet and soft. It took a while, but eventually, her terror faded, so he carried her back to their bed, where they made love until clarity returned to her, and she realized she needn’t fear for his wellbeing. If there were monsters coming their way, Aemond would do exactly what the dragon in Helaena’s dream did — wrap her under the veil of his protection, and keep her safe. 

*** 

Ravella was able to finish her carving the following afternoon. By then, Helaena and Aegon had traveled to Oldtown, under the excuse of visiting their younger brother, Daeron, and Princess Rhaenyra’s sons and stepdaughters were back on Dragonstone. She and Aemond would go north, straight to Castle Black, though he’d tried to convince her to stay as Lord Umber’s guest. 

The little spitfire was determined to not let him out of her sight, though. 

While they waited for Vhagar to land on the rocky cliffs beneath the Keep, Aemond turned to his mother. “What’s wrong with her?” 

It didn’t surprise him that Alicent noticed his wife’s distress, but he refused to add to her worry. Her entire married life, she spent believing Rhaenyra would kill her children; he didn’t want to contemplate how she’d react if he told her all the horror stories they heard as children were real. At least, until he had proof. “She’s worried about Father. And about Vhagar killing Luke,” he grinned. 

“You never said anything—” his mother started. 

“I didn’t know, Mother,” he stared at her. He was a man grown, but if she were to pull him into her arms and give him one of those fierce hugs, he wouldn’t mind. He wasn’t too grown up to reject her affection. “I haven’t seen Luke since that night. Now that I know how Vhagar feels, I’ll be careful, I promise.” 

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. The smile was a bright one when she looked at Ravella again. “Vhagar loves her.” 

He fully turned so he could watch as his wife placed the center of Vhagar’s snout with kisses and whispered some low words that made the enormous beast rumble. Around her, the dragon was as docile as one of the kittens Lady Stokeworth carried around. That was a result of Vhagar understanding the depth of Ravella’s bond to Aemond, the intensity of his love for her… and his training to protect Ravella in case of need. But mostly, it was about Ravella. Vhagar could sense her distress and was being extra careful with her; their bond was pulling at him, as if there was a question the dragon was dying to ask, but couldn’t, so he kept pushing back at it, signaling they had to be careful with her, because she was hurting. 

“Vhagar has incredible taste,” he smiled. “We’ll be back soon. Maybe one of the rangers will have reports of a disease similar to Father’s, and a cure,” he kissed her hand. “I’ll write to you.” 

“May the gods bless you so, my son,” she hugged him. 

He stepped away, and nodded at Cole. He didn’t instruct his mentor to guard the queen, because he knew the man would — with his life. Instead, he walked away, only looking at his mother and waving before climbing onto Vhagar’s back, Ravella tucked safely between his thighs. 

“Time to spread your wings, little butterfly,” he kissed her cheek, laughed when sand flew everywhere as Vhagar lifted her paws and took off. 

“Can we make a detour to the Isle before we go?” Ravella asked. 

“Anything you want, my love,” he confirmed. Finding a cure for his father’s ailment was important, but nothing mattered more than Ravella. She’d find sanctuary on the Isle, revel in the knowledge the Others were kept at bay, at least for now. 

He didn’t bother to land close to Harrenhal this time, taking Vhagar straight to the isle in the middle of the lake. The dragon’s wings beat up while Aemond, holding Ravella, climbed down the ropes until dropping to the ground. While she removed the cap and shook her shoulders, he watched as Vhagar landed on the other side of the Trident and curled around herself to wait for them. 

He took her hand again, a bag of corn and a light meal on his other hand, and together, they made the path to the center of the isle. It seemed to him the path was easier to follow… cleaner, though the sun would set in a few hours. “Prince! Prince! Prince!” some ravens shrieked. 

“Grain!” another begged. 

Ravella laughed, and Aemond shook his head, pleased at the sound. If the little beasts could make her easier, he’d give her a hundred ravens and let them call him names. 

“To the table,” he mumbled, and the animals followed. 

By the time they made it there, the trees’ branches were heavy with birds. He opened the bag with his dagger and threw all the corn on its top, letting the animals feast. Then, he took out the meal prepared for them and arranged it between them, to the right of the ravens. 

Ravella grinned when he showed her the piece of obsidian he’d found, so he placed the long, tooth-shaped black piece on her hand with utmost care. The first time they came here, there was one on the same spot, almost as if someone had forgotten it. Now, Aemond believed whoever had left this one — and he liked thinking it was a child of the forest —, had intended for it to be found. 

“Tell me about your childhood. A happy memory,” he asked. 

She looked at a tree, and sighed. “In the first days following my father’s death, it looked like there was a raven following me. Not Onyx. He’d come and perch at any available space and watch me. If I were crying, he’d fly close and rub his head on my cheeks to dry my tears. One day, I asked if there was someone inside, and he just… tilted his head. So, I took a deep breath and skinchanged him. The first thing I knew was that my father was there, saying it’d taken me long enough.” 

“Your father?” he repeated, brow furrowed. 

“My father,” she nodded, a blinding smile on her face. “It isn’t uncommon that skinchangers pick an animal to live on after their bodies die. My father wasn’t ready to leave me alone. When I came to King’s Landing, he went into a dog.” 

He remembered the furry animal that had followed her everywhere and slept on her bed, accordingly to Helaena. “And you could talk to him,” he guessed. 

“If I skinchanged, I knew he was there, and he offered some comfort… not a conversation. It’s just that I knew him, and could tell his mood. However, his soul faded as the years passed, and now there isn’t much of him left. Onyx is a reminder. There isn’t a lot of him there anymore,” she reached out for his hand. “I wish there were, if only so he could see for himself that he could rest, as I finally had found the same thing he had with my mother. He’d have adored you.” 

Her words made his throat tight. “And I’d have adored him as if he were my own father,” he kissed her hand. “He—” something behind her caught his attention. Carefully, Aemond picked up the shard of obsidian and held it up, “We’re guests here! Come share a meal with us and get your weapon back!” he called out. 

Ravella grinned, her tension momentarily forgotten. She inclined her body, resting a forearm on the top of the table, and waited. After a long time, the bushes shuffled again, to reveal a nut-brown, bright-eyed, skittish… being. 

A child of the forest, he thought, putting the obsidian shard to his right, and moving the platter of fruits close to it. He and Ravella held still as the child approached, weary; Aemond didn’t repeat his offer, though a smile opened up as the child selected a berry and took it to its mouth, before reattaching the obsidian to the end of what he realized was a spear. The maesters said they hunted and warred with obsidian. 

“You came on the dragon,” the child said, and his voice didn’t look like that of a child’s. Despite his size — he reached Aemond’s hips —, he sounded like an adult, burdened by an ancient knowledge. He sounded like Vhagar would if she could talk, Aemond decided. 

He nodded in confirmation. “Vhagar is her name. She’s bonded to me. I’m—” 

“Prince Aemond, the One-Eyed Dragon.” 

He arched his brows. “You know me?” 

“Of course. The gods watch, though they’re eyeless.” A jerky twitch of large ears that looked like a cat’s. “You’re a Whitmore from Whitmore Park,” he addressed Ravella. 

“Yes,” she beamed. “Is it that obvious?” 

“We’ve watched you, too. I saw you as a baby in your cradle, before I returned home. We always visit those who keep the faith.” 

“Do you have a name?” 

“Not one you can pronounce,” he told Aemond, “though she might learn.” 

“She’s perfect,” he agreed. 

The child frowned. “You mean it,” he turned to Ravella, looking puzzled, “It isn’t a lie.” 

While she was nodding, Aemond said, “Of course not. I love her. How do we call you?” 

“How do you want to call me?” 

“This one’s a bit too frustrating for me,” he told Ravella with a sigh. 

She laughed. “Is Berry alright?” 

The child looked at the fruit he held in his four-fingered hand. “I’m eating a berry,” he pointed out, and smiled. “Yes, it’s alright.” 

“How do you speak the Common Tongue?” Ravella asked. 

“One of my kin left the isle when young and explored the world. When she came back, she taught us all she had learned. Now it’s my turn to share the stories, but I want to meet the dreamer and the greenseer,” Berry answered. 

“Excuse me?” A glance at Ravella revealed she didn’t understand it, either. 

“The dreamer and the greenseer. They are close to you.” 

“Are they?” Aemond exchanged a look with Ravella. She shrugged, indicating she didn’t know what Berry meant. 

“Yes. I have to open the greenseer’s third eye.” 

“Why?” 

“It’ll be necessary, for when they come.” 

“Who?” Aemond was feeling slightly stupid. 

“The Others.” 

Ravella choked on her drink and stood up, back stiff, saying she had to pray. While she did, Aemond turned to Berry, “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. The greenseer—” 

“Berry, please,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know the greenseer you’re looking for. The only thing I know is legends.” 

“The Song of Ice and Fire,” the child supplied. 

Aemond frowned. He was the family’s scholar; he’d found some scrolls about it. Coming across a copy of Daenys Targaryen’s Signs and Portents had made him research everything he could about what it could be about. He’d concluded it was the long night, and although he knew he wasn’t the Prince that was Promised — the hero who’d defeat the darkness that spread over the world —, he’d hoped. At eight, he was determined to make his ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, proud. 

And he was convinced it was the only way to make his father see him. Not only Rhaenyra. 

Now? He understood his father had groomed Rhaenyra to birth the Prince, because he didn’t consider any of his own sons worthy. And after he’d lost his eyesight, even Aemond agreed. The hero couldn’t be a cripple, a drunkard or a child. Daeron had potential, but if Berry was telling the truth, the Prince had to be an adult, fully matured and capable of leading as well as fighting. 

“Why not the Starks?” he asked. “They’ve been here since the long night. Bran the Builder was the last hero, wasn’t he?” 

“The Starks will be important, too. But the Prince that was Promised comes from the line of Aegon the Dragon. He’s the ruler of Westeros.” 

“Then we’re lost,” Aemond shook his head. “The ruler of Westeros is anything but a warrior.” 

“The ruler of Westeros will be,” Berry corrected. 

Aemond thought of it. “When?” he asked. 

“Soon.” 

“Be a little specific, please.” 

“Within your lifetime, Dragon Prince,” the child sounded irritated. “You’ll see for yourself.” 

“My sister—” 

“Have a role to play, as does everyone. They aren’t the Prince. The Prince that was Promised must be born of ice and fire, that’s the only way to claim the Song. Your sisters aren’t. Neither are their children.” 

“You mean both of them,” he shook his head. “What can you tell us?” 

“You must go to the Wall.” 

Aemond nodded. “We are going. We stopped here because Ravella needed—” 

“She’s a woman of faith. And good taste, too,” the child said, watching Aemond’s staff. Though the request remained unspoken, Aemond retrieved it, laying it on top of the table for Berry’s perusal. “You shall use it in battle soon. When you lift it over your head, it shall cast light over the world.” 

“Please, no prophecies,” Aemond said. 

Berry laughed, sounding just like his father. “You wanted me to tell the future. I can’t tell you much but what you already understand deep in your heart: the world’s going to unravel, and if you hope to set it right, you must fight twice as hard.” 

“Stop making me curious,” he groaned.

Another chuckle. “Very well, Aemond Targaryen, I won’t burden you with your future, but I’ll extend the gift of the old gods over you if you’d allow me to.” 

“I would, if you told me why,” he straightened his back, serious. “I’m not belittling your offer, Berry, but I don’t follow the old gods. I’ll consider their favor a great honor, because of my wife—” he trailed off. Berry looked straight ahead. Aemond turned to follow the direction of his gaze. Ravella still had her back to them, and it seemed, for a fleeting second, that the tree she was kneeling in front of, was weeping. “She deserves the honor of being gifted by the old gods. I don’t.” 

The child tilted his head, his big golden eyes slightly narrowed. “Would you like to bear it for her?” 

Aemond swallowed. The tree she was in front of was one of the few ones with a beam carved on its bark. “For Ravella, then,” he got to his feet, obeying Berry’s order to go away. 

*** 

The sky was painted in shades of pink, orange and gold, some parts already the purple that came before the velvet black of night. Some lonely stars shone up in the distance. They sighted Winterfell at the same time, and Aemond made the decision of stopping there for a while, landing on the winter town outside the double walls. People pointed and whispered, bending their knees when they saw him — with a dragon, there was no doubt he had to be a Targaryen. It was a blessing, really, to be identified due to Vhagar and not the eyepatch, he thought as the gates to the keep opened, and when they went in, it was to find an army of people kneeling. “Lord Stark, please. We’re but guests here,” he said, uncomfortable. 

“Welcome to Winterfell, my prince,” Cregan Stark said, standing. When he smiled at Ravella, Aemond made conscious effort to avoid breaking all his teeth. “Lady Whitmore.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” they said together. 

“Allow me to introduce my lady wife, Lady Arra,” he said, motioning to the petite woman with ash-blonde hair beside him. Her overcoat opened to reveal her swollen belly. Aemond wasn’t calmer by knowing she was pregnant. In fact, wondering how that woman was able to walk without falling face first only added to his pessimism. 

“A pleasure, my lady,” he bowed and kissed her hand. He didn’t hide his surprise when Ravella simply took a step forward and exchanged hugs and kisses with Lady Stark. 

Not only that, but Arra Norrey threw etiquette to the wind and clutched Ravella to her. Laughing, they walked into the castle at a sedate pace, so Lady Arra didn’t tumble. 

“I’m afraid our wives became good friends as children,” Cregan smirked. “She was heartbroken she couldn’t attend your wedding.” 

Aemond followed Lord Stark inside. Like Samwell Blackwood, Cregan was a few years older than himself. “If I had known Lady Stark and Ravella were such good friends, I’d have flown her to King’s Landing, like I did the Daynes.” 

“That’s very thoughtful, my prince, though I’m afraid we wouldn’t have been able to accept it. Arra’s pregnancy has been hard on her. The maester says two babies drain her strength.” 

“Two?” he widened his eye, but ended up smiling. “Congratulations, my lord.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Although, now that I’ve heard of Lady Arra’s struggles, I’m ashamed of coming here unannounced. In my defense, flying by without acknowledging House Stark felt incredibly rude.” 

“If you want to make up for it, you can send reinforcements to the Watch, Prince Aemond.” 

Startled at the man’s audacity, Aemond stared at him. Then, he burst out laughing. “I like your daring, my lord. Tell me how I can help, I’ll take this issue to the King in person.” 

As Cregan Stark spoke, he decided stopping at Winterfell wasn’t his best decision. Throughout the night, the young lord painted an ugly picture of rangers lost beyond the Wall, and deserters executed in the south. Aemond knew he had to approach the subject with utmost care when he returned to King’s Landing. But, he thought hours later, laying under the furs next to Ravella, how could he ask men to die in the cold waste up north and act as if their lives had no valor, when the threat was against everyone, including himself?

[dangermousie]

Mousie’s absolutely subjective, very biased Top 10 web novels list

Please note that this is hardly aiming to be objective, if one can even be properly objective about a work of fiction. It is 110% based on my preferences, which means this list is heavy on the angst and has nothing set in the modern day. It is also heavily danmei-centric, even though I read way more het romance than danmei, because for whatever reason, most of the danmei I’ve read has been insanely good.

10. Return of the Swallow - one of the two non-danmeis on this list. Smart and nuanced and with a large cast of characters. Our heroine is a long-lost daughter of the family that is brought back in and has to cope with familial struggles, crazy royals, court intrigue, invasion et al. It’s SO GOOD! There is romance with the sexy smart enemy general but honestly, it’s the heroine that is the main selling point for me.

9. Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - the only other non-danmei novel on this list, this was my very first web novel and what drew me into this insanity. This is just a ton of fun, probably the lightest novel on this list, not an ounce of angst to be found. But it’s hilarious and features competent heroine and tsundere hero and I will always love it for opening a new world to me. Anyway, our heroine transmigrates into the novel as the female lead. Unlike the original lead though she doesn’t want to seek adventures and angst - she just wants to comfortably live with the wealthy, nice husband heroine has. Alas, said husband is no longer nice since he has previously lived this story where he was betrayed by FL and then transmigrated/reincarnated into the past. Oh well, the heroine opens up businesses and makes friends. And eventually, her husband realizes his wife is way different this time around. This actually doesn’t have much romance, not until close to the end, but this is so fun I don’t care.

8. Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

7. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) - oh come on, how are you even on this tumblr if you don’t know MDZS/The Untamed? This was my very first danmei and it’s so much fun! I love everything about it - the unreliable narrator, the looping structure, the main OTP, Wei Wuxian’s laidback, traumatized insouciance, everything. Anyway, the plot in the event you somehow transported here from 2005 is that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian, was defeated by the righteous sects over a decade ago and fell of a cliff to his death. Only now that same Wei Wuxian opens his eyes in another body and everything that was supposed to stay in the past starts again.

6. Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF) - people either love its meandering narrative, picaresque structure and cast of thousands, or find it a detriment compared to much more compact MDZS. I love it even more than MDZS for those very qualities. It does have a rock-solid, darling OTP, but what really elevates it to me are the MXTX trademark combo of snarky/light tone hiding a ton of trauma underneath, the insanely intricate world-building, and what it has to say about the nature of grace and goodness. Xie Lian is one of my top 5 web novel characters and probably in top 10 from anywhere. Oh, and while MXTX’s stuff is not as angsty for me as Meatbun’s or even Priest’s, there are always exceptions, and there is one chapter in this novel that pretty much broke me and sometimes I still flashback to it and feel unwell.

Anyway, what is it about? There is a commotion in the heavenly realm - Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of a long-destroyed kingdom, has ascended to Godhood. That in itself is not so exciting. However for Xie Lian this is the third time (!!!!) as he’s ascended and lost his godhood twice prior. And now, the biggest joke of the divine realm is back, throwing the heavenly realm into chaos. And elsewhere, Hua Cheng, one of the four most powerful demons of that Universe, sits up and takes notice.

5. Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

4. Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

3. To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

1. The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

[hey-michael-young-history]

31 Days of Christmas!

Day 10: Petting

Kuai Liang had come a long, long way. 

From a living weapon who quietly yearned for the relief of death to a healing Omega father who wanted so desperately to live. 

Hanzo Hasashi was not oblivious to the long road ahead of his Omega. He hoped that Kuai Liang could see how far he had come. 

He was different, after the birth of their daughter, after all of the cleanup that came after. He never said he was nervous. He never said he was afraid. But his actions were loud and clear. 

He never thought much of his looks but he absolutely avoided seeing any part of his naked body now. If he came across a reflection of himself, it ruined his entire day. 

If he didn't eat enough – and he never ate enough – by the afternoon, he would shake, like his body was missing something. If he didn't take his medication – and he never wanted to take his medication – he would become overloaded by his own pheromones.

The worst, perhaps, was Lì-Yán. He loved her with his entire being but he didn't understand that babies sometimes cried for no reason. They sometimes hit out of frustration. He struggled with it, and Hanzo could feel the absolute rejection Kuai Liang felt when she pushed away from him. 

Whenever he faced these difficulties, Hanzo tried to be there. He was going a bit stir crazy from their self imposed confinement, but it took hours to calm Kuai Liang down. No one in the Fire Gardens had ever experienced a postpartum male Omega, particularly one who already suffered from lifelong debilitating untreated trauma. 

Hanzo tried to support him, as best he could. He tried not to compare, but by the time Satoshi was born, Harumi was very vocal when it came to her needs. Kuai Liang withdrew further into himself after Lì-Yán’s birth.

Verbal praise confused him. He wanted it. But he was too disheartened to accept it. He was irritated by Hanzo’s constant presence and offers to help, especially when it came to their daughter. 

So Hanzo backed off, offering his support in nonverbal ways. A hand on his shoulder. A reassuring smile. 

Fingers through his hair. 

It was funny. While Hanzo had loved Harumi’s hair, she was not a fan of him touching it. For Kuai Liang… It was a magic cure. 

He discovered it during a hectic day. He had returned home early because his scent gland was unusually cool. 

She was in her bassinet, sleeping. Kuai Liang was sitting on the futon, staring straight ahead. 

“Kuai Liang?” Hanzo knelt before him and gently grasped the back of his neck. 

He flinched but it pulled him out of whatever trance he was stuck in. 

Witnessing his stress in real time was heartbreaking. Once his eyes focused on Hanzo, his heart began to race. His skin paled. 

Hanzo slid his fingers through Kuai Liang’s hair and he suddenly looked away. “Hanzo…”

“Are you ill?”

“No. No. I… I just needed a moment to gather myself. Thank you.” For the first time in weeks, Kuai Liang smiled. 

That was the key. 

Most Omegas calmed when their partner touched their scent gland but Kuai Liang calmed when he was… petted. Hanzo could think of no other way to think of it. 

Any chance he could, he stroked Kuai Liang’s hair. If Lì-Yán’s crying began to fray his nerves, Hanzo would pull him close and play in his hair. If he tried to cancel his medical appointments, Hanzo would offer to wash his hair. If he happened to see his reflection, Hanzo would face him and brush his hair with his hands, finalizing it by carefully tucking any stray strands behind his ear. 

Slowly, Kuai Liang began to stabilize. He’d always loved Hanzo’s hands in his hair but Hanzo wasn't sure if he noticed how much more he enjoyed it now.

Until.

A sharp pain through his scent gland woke Hanzo up. He looked over and almost sighed in relief. Kuai Liang was having a nightmare. Sometimes it was difficult to know. He had somehow managed to suppress distress signals while asleep but the physical tells were always there. His body would tense. He’d clench his teeth. On this night, it had gone a step further. 

He was purring. 

A broken, jagged sound like glass was stuck in his throat. It was like a needle in Hanzo’s forehead. He rolled over and embraced Kuai Liang from behind, whispering fast to wake him as quickly as possible. He could feel ice beginning to form on his scalp so he warmed his fingers and broke it up, giving him a deep massage. 

Kuai Liang calmed almost immediately. His body went limp and his purr quieted to even breathing. Once Kuai Liang was sleeping peacefully, Hanzo fell back asleep himself. 

The next morning, he awoke to Kuai Liang. His head under his jaw. His pheromones blanketing the room in peace. His low purr rumbling through Hanzo’s chest to his head. 

“Alpha. You are awake.”

“How long have you been awake?” Hanzo asked, rubbing his fingers up his Omega's neck into his hair. 

“Does it matter?” 

Before Hanzo could respond, Kuai Liang was cradling his face and kissing him. And then he was on top of him, reaching down to see if his Alpha was ready. 

He wasted no time ripping Hanzo’s sleep pants off and settling his face between his legs. 

The way Kuai Liang used his mouth was an art form. Sometimes cool, sometimes warm, with strong jaws that always welcomed Hanzo deep. Deep enough for Hanzo to grab the sheets as he steadied his body. Kuai Liang let him go and stared at the sheet under his fist, his eyes still lazy from sleep. 

This was the natural conclusion. 

Hanzo leaned forward and caressed his lips, his face, until both hands were securely anchored in Kuai Liang’s bed head. 

And then he got back to work. 

Part of being at the mercy of Kuai Liang’s assertion was watching just how in control he was while he worked. He didn't bob or put in a show. His technique was slow, from the base of the shaft up, all the while sucking and pressing his tongue against every engorged blood vessel he could find. 

Hanzo's fingers entangled in Kuai Liang's hair applied no pressure. Instead, he felt every shiver of pleasure, every heavy moan, every near climax that his Omega usually hid from him. If his ran his nails from the back of Kuai Liang's head just as the tips of his teeth touched the head of his swollen cock…

He thought maybe Kuai Liang would moan harder. Or purr deeper. Or even orgasm. 

He was right. 

Kuai Liang groaned and took the entirety of Hanzo's cock, desperately grasping, scratching, and finally grabbing his thighs as his body released. 

The vibrations. The sounds. His mouth. His hair. Hanzo shuddered and groaned as he came, holding Kuai Liang against him. 

Morning sex. It had been a while. A great while. 

When Hanzo opened his eyes again, Kuai Liang was gone. He looked around, then found a small note taped to his face. 

Taking Lì-Yán for a walk. Wash the sheets. 

He chuckled and held the note to his heart. They were still on a long, long road. 

But they were heading in the right direction.