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[moderncalculators]

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[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

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

Chapter Seventy-Seven

“This will never stop, will it?”

The chaos of the large gathering in the great hall had subsided, the atmosphere shifted to a more subdued setting in the council room upstairs. The sun began to rise outside, casting the first rays of light through the windows, illuminating the somber scene within.

The room was hushed, the tension palpable as members of the council gathered around the table. Gone were the throngs of people, replaced now by a select few, each bearing expressions of concern and apprehension. Worries weighed heavily on their minds, evident in the furrows of their brows and the lines etched across their faces.

Maera stood by the window, her wild brown hair cascading around her shoulders with the striking silver streak running through it. Her locks remained untamed and tousled from the events of the night before, framing her face in a halo of unruly strands. Despite the chaos, her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the sun was beginning to make its ascent.

Clad in a black leather dress that accentuated her figure, Maera cradled her pregnancy bump with one hand, the swell of her abdomen a constant reminder of the life growing within her. Beneath the leather, she could feel the gentle movements of her unborn child, a reassuring presence amid the turmoil.

Worry etched lines of concern in her forest green eyes, reflecting the tumultuous thoughts swirling within her mind. The events of the past few hours had left Maera reeling, struggling to process the danger that surrounded her and her unborn child. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, one thing remained clear to Maera: the looming threat that she and her child would always face.

She turned to face the councilmen, her gaze steady and resolute as it landed squarely on her husband, who sat at the head of the table, staring blankly ahead. “We will never be safe as long as this continues. The Blacks and the Greens,” the Princess declared before the council members began muttering amongst themselves.

Lord Peake and Lord Butterwell engaged in a heated debate about the next steps to be taken. Their voices echoed in the council room, each arguing their perspective with fervor while Maera observed their interactions closely. Meanwhile, Ser Adrian Tarbeck moved marble pieces across the map laid out on the table, his movements deliberate and calculated as he strategized potential maneuvers. Standing nearby, Ser Arryk, Maera’s loyal protector, stood guard at the door, his presence a reassuring presence amidst the tense atmosphere.

Across the room, Lord Vance scribbled frantically on a piece of parchment with his quill, capturing the essence of the discussions and decisions being made. The witch, however, was not in attendance, nor had she been seen since the day before. But that was not important right now.

Despite the flurry of activity around her, Maera found herself unable to tear her gaze away from her husband who sat quietly, his head propped up by his joined hands, his long straight silver hair cascading around his shoulders in loose waves.

His single-eyed gaze was fixed at the table before him, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation as he grappled with the weight of the situation and tried to discern the best course of action moving forward. In the hushed atmosphere of the council room, his silence spoke volumes, conveying the gravity of the moment and the solemn responsibility resting on his shoulders.

As Aemond stood abruptly from his seat, a hush fell over the room, the council members watching him intently as he strode purposefully around the table. Maera’s gaze followed him closely, her forest green eyes tracking his movements with unwavering attention.

With a determined expression, Aemond reached the map of Westeros laid out on the table, his violet eye scanning the detailed depiction of the realm. Aemond reached out and moved one of the green marble pieces across the map from Harrenhall to Dragonstone, an island marked with an array of black marble pieces representing their adversaries.

The Prince folded his arms behind his back, his expression unyielding as he addressed the room. "If they will not fight with honour, then we must play them at their own game," he declared firmly.

Maera's eyes widened in disbelief, her pulse quickening as she struggled to comprehend that her husband was suggesting such a drastic course of action, especially after everything they had endured. "Covert murder?" she questioned, her voice laced with unease.

The councilmen chatted amongst themselves whilst the memory of little Jaehaerys's assassination weighed heavily on Maera's mind. The shock and devastation that had reverberated through their family and the realm served as a stark reminder of the tragic consequences of such acts of violence. And with the recent attempt on their own lives still fresh in her memory, Maera found herself grappling with the grim reality of the situation.

Fiddling nervously with the fabric of her dress, Maera couldn't shake the growing sense of unease and moral discomfort that gnawed at her conscience. The idea of plotting and scheming to kill went against her fundamental principles and values. How could she reconcile such dishonorable methods with her own sense of integrity? And if they were to proceed with the plan, how could she ever find peace knowing she had sanctioned such actions?

Ser Adrian Tarbeck, Maera's brother-in-law, spoke up in support of Aemond's plan, his tone somber yet resolute. "It is unsavoury to speak such things, but it will prevent more battles and bloodshed. It is the only way," he affirmed, his gaze meeting Maera's with a sense of shared determination.

Lord Butterwell dismissed the idea with a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Impossible. Rhaenyra and Daemon are no fools. They have surrounded themselves with supporters. No one could get onto Dragonstone undetected," he argued, skepticism evident in his voice.

The Lord was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had already established the Black council, consisting of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys of House Velaryon, Lord Bartimos of House Celtigar, Maester Geradys as her Grandmaster and Ser Lorent Marband as the Lord Commander of her Queensguard.

Then of course there was Ser Erryk, the twin of Maera’s own protector. She knew how much it hurt Ser Arryk when his brother flocked to the enemy and swore fealty to them. Not so much relating to the good of the Realm, but on a personal level. His brother, his mirror image, turned against him by picking Rhaenyra, severing the bond between them.

Maera’s gaze fell upon her protector, stationed by the door. She observed the loyal knight’s sturdy frame, hazel eyes, and neatly tied back light brown hair. Despite the gravity of the situation, Maera couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him most of all. His twin brother, who fled to Dragonstone the moment he could with the old King’s crown in his hand, pledging to Rhaenyra and her cause, and securing a place close to her. Then, inspiration struck.

"One person might," she interjected, her voice firm with conviction.

The weight of every gaze in the council chamber seemed to follow Maera’s every step across the room, enveloping her in a palpable silence. The intensity of their collective attention bore down on her as she approached Ser Arryk, who stood steadfast by the door, his presence a pillar of strength amidst the uncertainty that filled the room. His hazel eyes met hers, a silent acknowledgment passing between them as she offered him a sad smile.

"Ser, you have faithfully protected me for many moons," she began, her voice tinged with apprehension. Despite the gravity of the situation and the difficult task that lay ahead, Maera knew that she could rely on Ser Arryk to do what was necessary for the sake of their safety. It pained her to ask him to go against the very principles of the Kingsguard, but she understood that desperate times called for desperate measures. "Now I must ask something abhorrent of you, to keep me and my child safe."

Across the room, a scoff echoed from the elderly Lord Vance. "How will one man kill the Blacks?"

Maera's gaze hardened as she addressed the doubt in the room. "We don’t need them all dead," she retorted, her words sharp with resolve. Turning her attention to Aemond, she sought his validation as his violet eye remained intensely fixed on her. "Just Rhaenyra. At least for now. The cause will die with her."

The murmurs that filled the room shifted, a wave of understanding and agreement rippling through the council members. Aemond's nod of approval solidified their decision, his expression stoic yet supportive as he pledged to make the necessary arrangements. As Maera glanced back at Ser Arryk, she found a silent determination in his gaze, a silent affirmation of his commitment to her cause. With a nod of assurance, he silently accepted the weight of the task ahead.

Not but an hour later, Maera found herself outside in the courtyard, the early morning air was crisp and invigorating, carrying with it the promise of a new day. The sound of bustling activity filled the air as servants and soldiers went about their duties, preparing for the day ahead. In one corner, a horse stood patiently, its saddle freshly polished and its reins held by a stable boy, ready for the knight's departure.

The Princess contemplated the plan that was made by the war council. Her protector would make his way to Dragonstone and once there, pose as his brother. He would blend in seamlessly with the Queensguard, who had no reason to suspect that anything was amiss, before getting Rhaenyra alone and carrying out the task.

Ser Arryk, clad in plain clothes rather than his customary armor, stood beside the Princess, his belongings packed into a small bag strapped securely to his back and his sword on his hip. Despite the gravity of his mission, his demeanor remained stoic and composed, a testament to his unwavering resolve. As the knight made his final preparations Maera spoke up, her fingers tugging nervously at the dark cloak surrounding her.

“I know I need not ask this of you, Ser, but I know the Lords of the Council are rather insistent,” Maera began, her voice tinged with apprehension.“Do not harm the children.”

Ser Arryk regarded her with a raised brow, his expression stoic yet compassionate as he listened to her plea. His gaze softened as Maera’s hand wandered to sit atop her growing pregnancy bump, her green eyes becoming glossy with unshed tears.

“My child was at risk last night, the thought of losing them, even now…” Maera trailed off, her voice wavering with emotion as she struggled to articulate her fears. With a determined shake of her head, she refocused her thoughts. “Rhaenyra need not experience anymore loss before she…”

Ser Arryk offered her a reassuring smile, his understanding evident in his gaze as he reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “If I am successful, it will be swift and quick, Princess,” he assured her softly, his words carrying a sense of resolve and determination.

Maera nodded, trying to find comfort in his words, but her conscience wouldn’t let her. She picked nervously at her fingers before letting out an exasperated groan. “This feels wrong. I cannot believe we’re resorting to such measures.” She looked up at Ser Arryk, her eyes pleading for reassurance that what they were doing was justified.

“Such is the ways of war,” Ser Arryk replied with a heavy sigh, his expression reflecting the weight of their circumstances. With practiced ease, he mounted his horse, his movements fluid and graceful despite the gravity of their mission. As he looked down at Maera, concern etched into his features, he spoke softly, “You will take care, won’t you?”

Maera offered a sad yet resigned laugh, her gaze meeting Ser Arryk’s with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. Stretching upwards, their hands met in a silent exchange of solidarity, grasping onto each other with urgency. Though words escaped her in that moment, the silent understanding between them spoke volumes, conveying the depth of her appreciation for all he had done for her and the importance of the mission that Ser Arryk was about to undertake.

They lingered there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s touch, until Maera spoke again, her voice filled with determination, “I will if you will, Arryk.”

With a solemn nod and a reassuring smile, Ser Arryk urged his horse forward, disappearing into the misty morning landscape. Maera watched him go, a sense of loss weighing heavily on her heart as she whispered a silent prayer for his safety. She now had one less ally in Harrenhall. And unbeknownst to her, it was the last time the Princess saw her protector.

Days went by and as another evening unfolded in Harrenhall, the air in the chambers thick with anxiety, a tangible presence that seemed to weigh heavily on Maera's shoulders. Ever since the evening of the attempted assassination, she found herself unable to shake off the lingering sense of unease that had settled over her like a heavy cloak, which only worsened since Ser Arryk’s departure.

Seated on their bed, Aemond and Maera sought solace in each other's company, finding comfort in the familiar intimacy of their shared space. They had shed their day clothes, opting instead for the soft embrace of their night attire, the fabric offering a sense of warmth and security amidst the uncertainty that loomed outside their chamber walls.

Maera reclined back against Aemond between his legs, her head nestled against the expanse of his bare chest which peeked out from his nightshirt. She attempted to lose herself in the pages of her book, though her mind remained stubbornly preoccupied with worry.

Reports from trusted allies had come in since the execution of the man in the great hall. He was indeed who he said he was; Lord Alan Tarly of Hornhill, and Maera’s sister, Wynni, was in the early stages of pregnancy. It was a grim reality that Maera was struggling to come to terms with. What was worse was the amount of questions swirling around in her head. How long had the assassination been planned for? Were there spies within Harrenhall that had alerted the enemy of Aemond and Maera’s arrival?…Did Wynni know what her husband was setting out to do?

Aemond, ever the vigilant husband, read his own book with one hand, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along the curve of Maera's rounded stomach. Beneath her skin, their child stirred and kicked, a reassuring reminder of the life growing within her. Aemond’s touch was gentle yet possessive, a silent vow to protect both mother and child from any harm that dared to encroach upon their sanctuary.

The slight knock on the door disrupted the calm of their chamber, causing Maera to startle slightly in her place. She quickly composed herself with a huff, chastising her own jumpy reaction. After all, an assassin wouldn't announce their presence with a knock.The Prince pressed a reassuring kiss to her temple, his warm breath mingling with the strands of her hair as he nuzzled affectionately against her. With a silent acknowledgment, he rose from the bed, his movements purposeful as he straightened his night shirt before crossing the room towards the door.

Maera watched intently as Maester Cain entered, his usually composed demeanor marred by an uncharacteristic look of fear etched across his features. Despite his apologies for the late intrusion, his trembling hands betrayed his apprehension as he offered a small scroll to Aemond.

From her place across the room, Maera's curiosity piqued as she observed the exchange between her husband and the maester. The atmosphere in the chamber shifted subtly, tension coiling in the air like a tightly wound spring, as Aemond accepted the scroll with a measured nod and unfurled it hesitantly.

“Fuck.”Aemond's eye widened in horror as he read the contents of the scroll, his reaction immediate as he slammed it down on a nearby table.

Maera glanced up from her book, concern etched into her features. “What is wrong?”

Aemond wasted no time, issuing swift commands to the Maester. “Alert the men. We leave immediately.” With a nod, the Maester hastened out of the room, leaving the couple alone.

The Prince sprang into action whilst Maera stood from the bed, swiftly dressing himself with a sense of urgency that mirrored the gravity of the news. With practiced efficiency, Aemond pulled on his doublet and buckled it up, his movements brisk and purposeful. He laced up his boots with determination, the urgency evident in every motion.

His gaze flicked up to his pregnant wife, his jaw tense with agitation. “It’s Cole. He’s called for reinforcements. Lord Staunton spotted them approaching, and Rhaenys is aiding them with her dragon.”

The colour drained from Maera’s face. Whilst the war had indeed been active, the presence of Rhaenys and her dragon would turn the tides of typical battle. And from the look on Aemond’s face, he would not stand idly by and watch the battle happen in front of him. No, that was not her husband’s way. He would fight. Targaryen against Targaryen, dragon against dragon.

Not hesitating a moment longer, he reached under their shared bed, retrieving his sword and dagger, securing them in their sheaths at his belt. “They won’t stand a chance,” he uttered with a sense of trepidation.

With one last lingering look, Aemond stormed out of the room, leaving Maera growling in frustration at his rashness. She wasted no time, quickly grabbing her black and golden robe, hastily tying it around herself before sprinting after him.

In the dimly lit, torch-lit hallways of Harrenhall, Maera's footsteps echoed loudly against the stone floor as she hurried along. There were men calling to each other and the sound of armour and steel being handled, causing Maera to feel nauseous with anxiety. Finally, she caught sight of Aemond's silver hair in the distance, a beacon guiding her toward him.

Reaching him, Maera didn't hesitate, roughly grabbing Aemond by the arm and yanking him back so he had no choice but to face her. Her eyes bore into his with a mixture of frustration and concern, demanding his attention before he rushed off into battle. “Let me come with you.”

Aemond shook his head firmly, his expression resolute. “It’s crucial that you stay here and hold Harrenhall,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Her anger flared. How could he leave her, especially now, when she was due to give birth in three moons? To entrust her with a war fortress that was unfamiliar to her, surrounded by strangers that she did not wholly trust, mere days after an attempt on her life—it felt like a betrayal.

When he attempted to walk away from her again, Maera tightening her grip on his arm, her brows furrowed in concern. “You’re rushing into a battle against an experienced dragon rider. It’s too hasty.”

Aemond’s reaction was swift and harsh, angrily yanking his arm out of her grip, his features contorted in frustration and impatience. “Do you doubt my abilities?” he snapped, the shadows of the night accentuated the severity of his expression, casting dark lines across his face.

“No, I-I-” Maera stumbled over her words, a lump in her throat as she tried not to cry. Despite the sting of his anger, Maera’s heart clenched with the realization that Aemond’s emotions were torn. She understood his concern for the Lord Commander, and the broader implications of the battle for the war effort. Yet, she couldn’t bear to part with him.

With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. “Please, Aemond.” She reached out and pulled the Prince’s hand towards her before resting it on her swollen stomach. The child stirred wildly beneath her skin, each kick prominent against Aemond’s hand. It was a tangible reminder of what was at stake, of the precious life growing within her—a life Aemond was leaving behind. The Prince took a shaky breath, attempting to steady himself

“I’m afraid,” his wife confessed in a soft whisper.

Aemond cupped Maera’s face with both hands, his single violet eye burning with intensity as he searched her eyes for understanding. “No,” he murmured gently. “Not my fearless wife.”

He then pulled her into a tight embrace, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders. She clung to him desperately, her tears falling down the leather of his doublet as she buried her face in his chest. In that moment, she breathed in his scent of leather and dragon smoke, etching it into her memory with every fiber of her being, desperate to hold onto him just a little longer, praying silently that this wouldn’t be the last time she felt his embrace.

When they finally pulled back, Maera looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “Come back to me,” she pleaded.

“I will,” Aemond promised solemnly before his hand tangled with the hair at the base of Maera’s neck, pulling her towards him and crashing his lips against hers. The kiss was desperate, their lips moving against each other fervently, as if trying to convey all the love, fear, and longing they felt in that fleeting moment.

When they finally parted, Aemond rested his forehead against Maera’s for a brief moment, their breaths mingling in the quiet darkness of the corridor. It was a moment of hesitation, of shared vulnerability, before the harsh reality of their situation demanded action.

With a final look, Aemond quickly strode away, a couple of guards following close behind to aid him with his departure. As he disappeared into the shadows, Maera was left standing alone in the corridor, her heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty and longing. There was no war as hateful to the Gods as a war between kin. And no war so bloody as a war between dragons.

It took about a week for the despair to truly set in. As Aemond's absence stretched on, the changes on the war front became increasingly desperate and worrisome. The news of the dragon-seeds, if indeed true, had sparked a wave of panic among the council, and rightfully so.

In the council chamber, the men squabbled amongst themselves, debating army tactics, placements, and the financial costs of their next steps. It was a cacophony of voices, each one vying for attention and influence, leaving the Princess feeling overwhelmed and out of her depth.

Maera knew that Aemond possessed a scholar's mind, and his expertise in matters of war far surpassed her own. His absence left a void that she struggled to fill, and she couldn't help but feel useless and lost in her current role. Without Aemond's guidance and leadership, she felt adrift in a sea of uncertainty and chaos.

Out of duty, Maera attended the councils, though her heart wasn't truly in it. She would show her face, remaining mostly silent, occasionally nodding or giving one-word answers. Lord Butterwell and Lord Vance seemed frustrated by her lack of engagement, but Maera couldn't bring herself to care. Her mind was consumed by worry for Aemond and the safety of their unborn child.

Since Aemond decided to lead his war dragon into battle, Maera couldn't shake the fear of what might happen if anything happened to him or Vhagar. Not only would it have a profound impact on her, but it would mean less firepower for their side, leaving them at a disadvantage against the Blacks. Additionally, Aemond had taken half of the army housed at Harrenhall, leaving the fortress more vulnerable than before.

Of course, Maera had her loyal blue dragon, Ēbrion, by her side, but she wasn't as experienced a rider as Aemond, nor was Ēbrion a war dragon. Added to that, her advancing pregnancy made her less physically capable with each passing day as her babe continued to grow.

Despite these challenges, Maera took on patrols not only along the Westerlands border but also the Northern border, previously managed by Aemond. These patrols kept her away from the castle for a good portion of the day, but Maera found solace in the distraction they provided. It was a welcome escape from the feelings of helplessness during council meetings and the loneliness of Aemond's absence.

And then there was Alys. Maester Cain had informed Maera that the witch was now in her very last stages of pregnancy, and was due to give birth any day now. Alys had excused herself from being present during council meetings to prepare for the arrival of her child, another dark cloud in Maera’s previously clear sky of life. The situation was growing more precarious as time went on, and Maera found herself in a position whereby she had even less allies than before. Her loyal protector was gone. Her husband was gone. And one more was making their departure.

Lord Jason Lannister had sent word that he intended to support the occupation of Harrenhall, as well as make several attacks on Black factions in the Riverlands by sending his armies east. Maera’s brother-in-law, Ser Adrian Tarbeck, had been asked to meet his overlord and the army at the Red Fork before devising battle strategies in the Riverlands.

In the quiet, stony courtyard, Maera stood, her heart once again heavy with the impending departure of another ally, a prospect that filled her with dread. As her brother-in-law prepared his horse, he seemed unfazed by the impending danger of planning a battle. Donning his armor, a smile lingered on his freckled face, his strawberry-blonde hair gently tousled by the breeze.

Approaching her with a sheepish grin, he shared his news. “I received a raven this morning,” he began, his smile widening. “You are now the aunt of two baby boys!”

Maera's eyes widened in delight, a warm flush spreading across her cheeks as she embraced the knight. “Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations, good-brother. You are a father!” Her joy was palpable, but it was quickly replaced by concern. “And my sister, how is she?”

Ser Adrian's expression softened with a grin. “Sabine faced the childbed valiantly and is doing well.”

Taking a moment to gaze into the distance, Ser Adrian turned back to Maera with a hopeful look in his eyes. “It will be company for Prince Maelor when he arrives.”

Maera nodded, feeling grateful for the family she could entrust her husband's niece and nephew to. She was glad she had secured Maelor’s safety with her sister in the Westerlands and Jaehaera’s safety with her brother in the Stormlands before joining her husband at Harrenhall. It was a small comfort amidst the uncertainty of war.

She was under no illusion that was asking a lot of House Tarbeck and her sister; the presence of the heir to the throne in their home would come with its own risks, so the Princess ensured to thank her brother-in-law once again for his service to the crown, and reassured him that he would be handsomely rewarded when the war was won.

After bidding him good luck for his journey ahead and asking him to convey well wishes to her sister and new darling nephews, Maera watched her brother-in-law, who had been nothing but pleasant to her since they met, depart from Harrenhall on his horse. The air seemed to grow a little colder as he disappeared into the distance, leaving Maera feeling even more alone than before.

“Harrenhall has become quite quiet all of a sudden,” a voice spoke from behind her. Maera turned to see Lord Unwin Peake, dressed in his usual black and orange, offering her a respectful nod.

“Indeed, my Lord,” she sighed softly, mustering a smile as Lord Peake extended his arm. Maera accepted the gesture, and together, they walked back into the castle. In the much quieter hallways of Harrenhall, their footsteps echoed against the stone. Despite the weight of their current circumstances, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Lord Unwin, a few years older than her father, had consistently shown support for Maera during council meetings. His logical approach and deep understanding of battle tactics had earned her respect. Even when they disagreed, his manner of discourse educated and included her, a quality Maera deeply appreciated.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Maera voiced her gratitude. “I've never had the chance to formally thank you, my Lord, for all the support you've given me during my time here.”

“Not at all, Princess,” Lord Peake replied with a cheeky grin, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I've never been one for fanciful prophecies or spells. I tend to place more trust in the numbers of men and swords they hold.”

Maera chuckled appreciatively, understanding the subtle dig at the witch of Harrenhall in his words. “That's a pragmatic way to live,” she replied with a grin of her own.

But his words stuck with her. Whilst Lord Unwin himself met Alys’s predictions with skepticism and caution, Maera was not necessarily sure the other men on the council had felt the same. The fact the witch was even allowed to attend these meetings must have meant her opinion held some weight amongst the councilmen.

As they walked along the corridor, Maera's expression turned thoughtful, her brow furrowing as a question formed in her mind. “Were the councils held with the Prince heavily influenced by the witch before I arrived?” she inquired, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Lord Unwin responded with a roll of his eyes. “Not as much as she would hope, but her supposed sight has been useful in terms of strategic maneuvers,” he explained, casting a skeptical glance at the Princess. “Or perhaps it's just coincidences?”

Maera nodded in agreement, her gaze wandering to a nearby window as she contemplated. “I've often felt that many coincidences have led me to this point in my life,” she mused, a nostalgic smile crossing her lips. “A year ago, I was just returning to the Capital, a daughter of a minor House on the coast of the Stormlands.” Her smile softened as she recalled the memory. “Aemond could not stand me, nor I him. And now, here I am, his wife, carrying his child.” She glanced down at her bump, affectionately rubbing it with her hand.

As they reached a fork in their path, Maera came to a stop, her expression turning somber. “I do love my husband, but there are things he's done that I'll never be able to forgive,” she confessed, her voice heavy with emotion. Lord Unwin listened intently, waiting for her to continue. “He conspired with a witch to kill my family in Morne, intercepted a perfectly good marriage proposal for me and my house, and if that wasn’t enough, he got the witch pregnant.”

Lord Unwin sighed, acknowledging the weight of Maera's words. He was well aware of Aemond’s indiscretions, but hearing them listed so coldly by the Princess only made the reality of their situation even more tragic.

Maera shook her head in disbelief, her expression a mix of frustration and sorrow. Her husband, whom she once admired for his intelligence and cunning, had succumbed to recklessness and stupidity, leading them all to this dire situation. “All for the sake of some fantastical prophecy. It is absurd to think this is the same man,” she lamented, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Lord Unwin nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he chose his words carefully. “Even great men can become desperate when they feel they have nowhere else to turn,” he offered, his tone somber. Glancing around to ensure they were alone, he continued, “Forgive my boldness, but the one-eyed Prince is damaged. He has built powerful walls so high that he fails to see the weaknesses in their foundations.”

Maera furrowed her brow at his assessment, contemplating his words. “That does not excuse what he has done to you, nor should you forgive him,” Lord Unwin clarified, his tone firm but sympathetic. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, offering her reassurance. “You do not only have the Mother’s forgiveness flowing through you. You have her ferocity, which is greater than the Warriors when it comes to protecting her own.”

A small smile tugged at Maera’s lips, gratitude shining in her eyes as she looked at the Lord. “Wield it, Princess,” he encouraged her, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I will, my Lord,” Maera affirmed, her resolve firm as she nodded in agreement.

As Maera bid farewell to Lord Unwin, a new sense of determination and faith swelled within her. His belief in her abilities seemed to chip away at her anxiety, filling her with newfound confidence. If Lord Unwin supported her, she knew she could rally the other councilmen to believe in her and assert her leadership in Aemond's absence.

The gentle breeze wafted through an open window, carrying with it the sweet scent of lavender. It stirred something within Maera, igniting a desire to return outside, invigorated by her renewed purpose. Venturing into the lavender field, Maera was surrounded by the serene beauty of the purple blooms. As she walked among them, feeling the gentle kicks of her unborn child, a sense of joy washed over her for the first time since her husband's departure.

Her footsteps faltered as her gaze landed on a figure leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. Dressed in a dull green dress, the woman’s features were contorted in pain, her hand resting heavily on her swollen pregnancy bump. Dark brown locks cascaded down her back, and her labored breathing echoed through the stillness of the lavender field.

“Alys?”

Notes: I uploaded a poll yesterday because I was stuck with editing and I woke this morning jumping straight back into it! Funny how life works 🤣 so yeah for now, Aemond has gone to Rooks Rest. We’ve got two more Aemond POVs before 78 because I love edging you all 😏 I’ll be as quick as I can 🖤

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[dancingtotuyo]

drabble. what's that i see?

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: a unexpected discovery brings Joel acceptance.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, grief, acceptance, fluff?

Notes: no beta, we die like Gabe, Chris, and Paul.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!

Words: 865

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

The sun still sits below the horizon when a hand roams over your middle and the scruff of Joel’s beard scratches your neck. You don’t bother opening your eyes, a half-assed whine leaving your lips. He chuckles softly. “Just obeyin the rules, Sweetheart. About to head out.” He kisses your cheek. 

You crane your head back, eyes opening to small slits. He smiles at you. “Be safe,” you barely manage to say. 

Joel nods, minty breath hitting your lips as he kisses you. It’s soft and gentle. It feels like a lazy morning spent in bed, meant to lull you back asleep. “Always.” He kisses your head. “See you at dinner.” 

He stops in the doorway, looking back at your sleeping form. You're seven months along now, well rounded in your middle. Your ankles and fingers are swollen. He’s noticed the slight waddle develop in your gait as well. It all makes him smile. 

You’ve been taking things one day at a time, but neither have you made any preparations for when the baby gets here. No crib. No clothes. No discussions of a name. You still need time, even though the window rapidly is closing. 

Joel thinks about it silently sometimes, especially when he can feel them moving about, the small grunts that leave you when you get a fist to the bladder or a foot in your lungs. What will the baby look like? Will they have your eyes? His smile? Will it be a boy or a girl? 

You’re unconscious before the bedroom door clicks behind him. 

Patrol has picked this neighborhood over a hundred times in the last decade, but Joel and Tommy still stop. They still rummage through a couple houses. As time goes on, people have had to get more creative. Things that once seemed useless have renewed purpose. 

Joel hasn’t been in this house before. It’s a single story. Three bedrooms by his calculation. He rummages through linen closets and dresser drawers while Tommy goes through the kitchen. He finds a couple towels. They have a few holes, presumably from moths, but they can be cut down for rags. He finds a couple bars of soap still in boxes shoved to the back of one. 

The last door is stuck. He puts his shoulder into it twice before it gives way. His breath catches the moment he takes in the space. Dust floats around, flickering in the sunlight from the intact window. A crib sits in the corner, covered in dust. The sheets are faded with tiny pink flowers and the walls painted in pastel pink. 

He takes in a deep breath, blinking back tears. It’s eerily similar to the pink he’d painted Sarah’s walls right after her birth. He’d painted it over with purple a few years later once she expressed her preference. It brings forward a whole slew of emotions that he hadn’t realized were bubbling under the surface. 

What if you were carrying a girl? Would it feel like he was replacing her? Rationally, he knew that wasn’t the case. Ellie had carved her own spot in his heart. So had Carter. Would this be different? Would biology make a difference?

Joel clears his throat, pushing away the moisture from his eyes. It’s extra dusty in here, he reasons. 

There’s no closet in the room. He opens up the dresser. Once again, Joel freezes. Light muslin swaddles miraculously untouched by time. One has little yellow flowers against white, and the other has bouquets of pink flowers that match the sheets. They each have a solid color pair to match. He picks them up, expecting them to disintegrate in his hands, but they don’t. They only release little puffs of dust into the air as he shakes them out. 

The last one catches his eye, purple butterflies. Tears gather in his eyes again. There’s a tugging in his heart. Joel has never thought much about what comes after this life even before the outbreak when there was time to do so. So much of his life has been spent focusing on survival. Wherever Sarah might be, he knows she led him here. He turns around half expecting to see her smiling at him from the corner. 

It’s empty, but he still imagines her there. There’s no doubt in his mind you’re carrying his daughter. It’s a surety in his brain, and for the first time, he’s okay with the idea of a girl. Hell, it might be the first time that he’s truly at peace with this pregnancy. She won’t be a replacement or a placeholder for Sarah, but the little sister she spent years begging for. His heart will grow, create a new space just as it did for Ellie and Carter. He knows that because he can feel her telling him that. 

Joel nods to the empty corner clearing his throat. He wipes the moisture from his eyes, shoving the swaddles into his backpack. The drawer of clothes isn't as preserved but he manages to find a few options untouched by two decades of moths and other insects.

He carefully tucks the items into his pack. He’ll give them to you when you’re ready. 

[feathered-serpents]

Okay so the new adult Gaang movie is coming out next year. I’ve talked on TikTok (and might make a video on this too) about how from the LoK photo it looks like Bumi might be significantly older than their other two kids

He looks ten here, at least, and if we can calculate how old Aang and Katara were when Tenzin was born (Tenzin is 51 in LoK, LoK is 70 years after Avatar, 70-51 is 19, Tenzin was born 19 years after the events of Avatar. Aang and Katara were 31 and 33 when Tenzin was born, if Bumi is ten years older, they were 21 and 23) we can guess they were in their early 20s when Bumi was born. We know they’re supposed to be in their early 20s in the movie

By this timeline, some people were concerned Katara might be pregnant during the movie. But by some rumors I saw, Aang and Katara are meant to be around 24 and 26, so Bumi would have already been born and maybe be feature in the movie as a toddler. Based on Kya and Tenzin’s ages in this photo, it looks like they wouldn’t be born for a few more years, and unless there was a time skip Katara wouldn’t be pregnant in the movie.

But… then I found the leaked concept images

I keep staring at Katara

And I can’t decide. If she looks pregnant here. Her stomach looks slightly rounder, but it’s hard to say if it’s not a trick of the eye from her clothes and shading. I can see it and not see it depending on how I look at the picture.

For the record, I really really don’t want Katara to be pregnant in the movie. I do not want her to be treated as “fragile” or have her entire arc centered around her pregnancy. If she is pregnant, then either the movie age rumors are wrong, they’re retconning the timeline, or that’s not Bumi, but Kya, which is not as direct of a retcon.

I’m hoping to god I’m just seeing this because it’s been commented on my videos a LOT and it’s on my mind. I wouldn’t mind a time skip or a flashback, but please, not the whole movie

[getvalentined]

Content warnings on this post: Pregnancy and its associated biological weirdness, premature birth, seizures, fleeting mention of suicide, and my favorite character in the entire world getting shot. Discretion is advised.

So I've been trying to figure out a way to calculate roughly what point in Lucrecia's pregnancy her big seizure occurred, leading to Vincent confronting Hojo and getting shot. We know it was in 1977, and I've always assumed it was fairly late (because Sephiroth was probably born on Christmas, see link above for justification), but there's not actually much of anything in canon to confirm or refute this assumption.

Only, actually, it turns out that there is. It's so far off the path of things that are common knowledge that it's fallen off the edge of the continent, but it's there.

This is...very long, but please bear with me, because this is the best example of the timeline of this series being staggeringly internally consistent that I've ever seen.

Lucrecia's seizure was caused by Jenova, because it's super similar to the seizures Cloud has in Advent Children. This is weird, because while not stated in the games, there is a very specifically phrased blurb in the Crisis Core Complete Guide stating that Lucrecia was never personally exposed to Jenova cells while carrying Sephiroth:

[Description in alt text. Credit to jeange1231 and Shinra Archaeology on the bird app.]

Given that we don't have in-series canon that contradicts this, I have no issue with accepting it's canonicity. (This is what meta is for. Filling in gaps. Not contradicting the actual games.)

So the zygote/fetus that eventually became Sephiroth was treated in utero, with the assumption that it wouldn't spread to Lucrecia. I won't go into detail on the science here, but it makes sense that Gast and Co. made this assumption, given the existence of the placental barrier and the fact that Project S took place in the late 1970s, when we didn't understand these things as well as we do now. (We still do not understand them very well but that's neither here nor there.)

Cell migration between mother and child is a known phenomenon that isn't well understood, but occurs in a staggering number of pregnancies—it may occur in all pregnancies and simply not persist, but in humans it's been shown to persist for decades. (Basically everything I say about this is going to come from the paper linked above.) In humans it's known to occur no earlier than 10 weeks into a pregnancy. The paper doesn't seem to indicate the latest point it's known to occur in humans, which is interesting, but even if it only takes place for a very limited amount of time, that doesn't throw this off in the slightest.

According to the blurb above, Lucrecia canonically experienced cell migration, essentially being infected with Jenova by the unborn Sephiroth, but not in such a way that anyone caught it—or at least not until it was too late. If the cell migration itself was the event responsible for the seizure that pushed Vincent to confronting Hojo, that means that Sephiroth absolutely couldn't have been born in 1977, much less on Christmas. Vincent was shot no earlier than October 13th, and cell migration occurs around 10-12 weeks.

But the seizure didn't happen at 10-12 weeks. It couldn't have—Sephiroth's strain of Jenova is unique in that it responds to his will specifically. Without his will, it's not really active, which we see all throughout the Compilation. Cloud only wakes up at the end of Crisis Core around the time that Sephiroth starts calling for Reunion, and he's not cognizant until that call is loud enough to start drawing other Clones out of hiding; likewise, he appears to be in remission between Meteorfall and the events of Advent Children, at which point he starts having seizures of his own in response to Sephiroth gathering enough power to pull at his strings for the first time in years.

Fetal brain development kicks into high gear at the onset of the third trimester, roughly 28 weeks into a traditional 40 week pregnancy. (Interestingly, in mice, cell migration only seems to occur 2 weeks into a pregnancy, which is the equivalent of the onset of the third trimester because lab mice have a total gestational period of about 3 weeks.)

The third trimester is the point when Sephiroth began to have a will with which to pull at the unique strain of Jenova cells that had migrated from him to Lucrecia. With that in mind, we can say with a decent level of confidence that Lucrecia's seizure took place in the third trimester, around 26-28 weeks in.

And here's where it all comes together.

Assuming that Sephiroth was born on Christmas of 1977, at or close to full term (38-40 weeks), this would put his conception around the end of March. If he was conceived at the end of March, do you know when the third trimester starts?

The first or second week of October.

The earliest date that Vincent could have been shot is October 13th, 1977, because he was 27 years old at the time, and he was born in 1950. Hojo shot Vincent when he confronted him about Lucrecia's seizure.

I'd always had the headcanon that Sephiroth was premature, but taking actual human gestation into account—combined with the nature of Lucrecia's seizure and the confirmation that her strain of Jenova comes from Sephiroth specifically via cell migration—makes this line up so perfectly that I have to admit that this headcanon is directly refuted by actual canon. Sephiroth may have been a week or two early, but not enough to worry. He was a perfectly healthy baby, born at a perfectly acceptable term.

And he was born on Christmas, because he was conceived in late March, because Lucrecia's seizure happened around the onset of the third trimester, which occurred in early to mid-October, which is the earliest possible timeframe that Vincent could have been shot for confronting Hojo about it.

This is so internally consistent that the real world facts and features of human gestation line up without causing a single wave. I'm losing my fucking mind.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

[melishade]

Optimus, after finding out Ymir is pregnant

"Okay, here's the plan..."

Megatron, after finding out about the pregnancy

*deactivates his holoform, followed by the sound of a jet engine in the distance*

Previous Episode of the Peaceful Timeline

Glad we're on the same page with the pregnancy process.

Also I just talked about it with @justawannabearchaeologist @echoblaze5 and @badgerdigsbones

But Megatron wouldn't ditch. But he would be visibly panicking, and Optimus has to call them all into the meeting where he's showing everyone all the notes he calculated on the wall regarding Ymir's pregnancy the first time around. And even though Optimus is more prepared than he was last time, he's pretty much acting like a mother hen and its stressing everyone out. He's making sure Ymir has a good diet, albeit restricting at a few points. He's making sure she's not pushing herself. However, he's had quite a few arguments with Oshern over what he's baking. Optimus is still trying to figure out which ingredients are harmful to her. Oshern has served his food to pregnant women, and they and their babies have turned out completely fine! Don't insult his work! Megatron is greatly amused at the sight. It's the first time they've seen real visible anger out of the Baker. He's quite patient.

Initially, Ymir gets it. Hell, she's very worried about the pregnancy with Rose because of what she and them had to go through. On top of Ymir learning to heal from her mental and emotional trauma, being a teen mother didn't help her body at all. Optimus does reassure her that things are different from before. They weren't on the run, they had a family, all that stuff. But when Ymir sees Optimus kind slip into this controlling nature it worries her. Because before, Optimus didn't really have anyone to talk to during the process and he had to figure it out without worrying Ymir. And when Megatron showed up in the last two months, there was a lot of tension and hostility.

She gets it. Optimus had to burden so much alone the first time around, but its affecting everyone the way he's been acting. She does sit him down and they do have a private conversation about it. Ymir ultimately reminds him of what he told her: that they weren't alone. That he wasn't alone. That things were different and they had support and stability. It was going to be okay and he needed to share his burdens. This wasn't healthy for him. Optimus apologizes and promises he'll try to do better. His vow is just coming into play and he wants her safe. Ymir hugs him and rubs his back in comfort. However now, if Optimus steps out of line and doesn't listen to others, Megatron benches him by putting him in a literal timeout corner. Literally hauls his ass there and he's swearing in Cybertronian along the way. Optimus channels his feral mode for a bit.

Maria:…Papa’s acting weird.

Megatron hauling Optimus over his shoulder: Believe me Firelight. This is not the weirdest Optimus has ever acted.

Optimus, in Cybertronian: Put me down Megatron or I will rip your spark from your chest and take the dark energon from your spark and stab you in the face with it!

Megatron: Time out time is extended to an hour.

Optimus hisses like a cat in response.

And even though Megatron is calmer than Optimus in this scenario, he’s still fairly doting. He’ll take on tasks for Ymir, even though she might be completely capable of doing it herself in that period of the pregnancy. Ymir’s annoyed and asks why Megatron is doing that, and Megatron is explaining that it’s him making up for the shit way he acted the first time she was pregnant. He was only there for the last few months of the pregnancy. He didn’t really understand it and he didn’t have a high opinion on humans at the time. So he didn't treat Ymir fairly. He has a better understanding now and this is his way of saying sorry to her.

However, Megatron is not going to be on hand holding duty again! He's making Oshern do that and commits to helping him build his arm strength while he's at it. Sometimes through arm wrestling, sometimes through other stuff.

Oshern: This is an attempt to kill me, isn't it?

Megatron positioning his arm on the table: First of all, if I kill you, it's not going to be as simple as breaking your arm. Second, this is my attempt at being nice to you, so I suggest you take it. Third, your conjunx shattered the holoform arm when Firelight was born, so what exactly do you think she's going to do to yours?

Oshern:...okay fine. Let's get this over with.

Oshern is on the floor the first day, but he is prepared when the delivery day comes. And his increase in arm strength helps with his job, so there was an underlying benefit.

After Rose is born, there is a huge sigh of relief from all parties that the delivery turned out safely. Once Ymir feels better to move around, she does hug Optimus and thanks him for all of his help. She also says thank you to Megatron for being kinder to her this time around.

[onlycosmere]

Potential timeline discrepancies and their resolutions

jofwu: Someone in the last spoiler stream pointed out that there's an OB flashback where Evi is pregnant, and it reads like it's referring to Adolin. But the timing doesn't work out. They supposed she could have had a miscarriage, and it's just never mentioned in the books. The explanation technically fits... But I doubt it was the intent.

The timeline of the group traveling in Shadesmar in Oathbringer is kind of wacky. The time from Kholinar to Celebrant is extremely asymmetrical with the travel time from there to Thaylen City. I'll be curious to see if they tweak a mention or two of time passing in the OB leatherbound down the road...

In TWoK it reads like Kaladin spends MANY weeks in Bridge Four before he goes to the Honor Chasm. But when you do the math it's something like two weeks? (ten Rosharan days) One of those things where there's nothing technically wrong, but doesn't seem to have been the intent.

Another goofy one is that Shallan spent 6 months chasing Jasnah around by ship to petition to be her ward. Which, when you look at travel times elsewhere in the books, is pretty ridiculous. Did they like, sail around the whole continent once or twice?

The single biggest issue, in my opinion, is that the whole Veden civil war happens in about a month. Navani shares the news about the Assassin in White murdering King Hanavanar at the end of TWoK. That's what sparks the war. Then you have Taravangian showing up in Vedenar in Words of Radiance, prior to the Everstorm, at the end of the war. The Thrill was involved, and tensions were building for a long while... But I'm not sure how they fought a whole war (with their level of technology) in a single month in a country that large.

Peter Ahlstrom:

I asked Karen about these. She says:

Evi's pregnancy

OB CH 36, where Evi is pregnant, is timestamped 24 years ago.OB CH 49, where Adolin is born, is timestamped 23 years ago.A pregnancy on Roshar takes seven of their months. We give the timestamps half a year of leeway.

Shadesmar travel time

I don't have the calculations handy, but we certainly did them. The ship they got from Celebrant was faster than the one they took getting there, and it took them far enough that they could do a forced march to Thaylen City at a specific number of miles per day and arrive on time. We REALLY spent a lot of time getting this right.

Honor Chasm timing

Kaladin is in Bridge Four 18 days before going to the Honor Chasm. He was already close to suicidal before joining.

Shallan chasing Jasnah

It really depends on how directly they traveled and how long they stay in port. The Wind's Pleasure could have gone back and forth to smaller ports with shipments before they could find one going to the city she wanted to go to.

Veden Civil War

I see it as having been a few small battles in each princedom, but then everyone saw a chance to be king and they converged on Vedenar. That left power vacuums in the princedoms and smaller landlords fought there. I don't think that most of the country was in as bad shape as Vedenar.

[lix88888]

I would like to hear about eldritch family relationships, yes!

Also I mostly asked that because I was wondering if at any point ink nearly broke errors hand and cursed his name while he was delivering the twins. It sounds like it wasn’t that bad for him tho.

So the twins were born into the multiverse, and at the same time their eldritch forms were off chilling in eldritch land?

What was error and ink’s introduction to the concept of ‘the deed’? Did ink just see some AUs where people did it and thought he’d give it a try?

You don't know how much you made my day! Okay, I'll leave the ramble about the Errorink family for last, under a read more

As for the rest, I think Error's hand is fine lol. I recently read how @askfriskandcompany thinks about skeleton pregnancy on the side stories, and I think it's something I will start incorporating in my own headcanons: basically, after the deed, skeletons don't form ectobodies, but they have something that is described as a "bubble", floating stomach-height thanks to magic, in which the little skeleton grows and grows until it pops and here's the baby (almost all other monsters are super jealous, they have to go into labour). So, it's kinda like an egg? Super cool worldbuilding and makes sense (why go through all the trouble of making a body for 9 months? Nature is energy efficient).

And yeah, that's basically it: as already stated, Ink, Error and the kids have bodies, but they're more like avatars (actually, kinda like in the Avatar Movie, where the body is there, but if it breaks the soldiers wakes up in a pod).

Ink already knew about sex from when he first examined Gaster's mind before creating the Multiverse: basically, everything that Gaster knew, consciously or subconsciously, Ink also knows, and then he used Gaster's presence to peek inside the Original Undertale and get all kinds of details Gaster couldn't possibly know.

And now, Errorink family!

I and @stargazeraldroth have quite a few headcanons regarding Errorink, PJ and Gradient in general, and those tend to transfer in most works, so this is valid for Eldritchtale, but also usually for any of my other works.

The first thing is PJ and Gradient's personality and powers: PJ and Gradient are both similar and opposites in a lot of ways. Physically, PJ looks more like Ink, while Gradient looks more like Error, but this doesn't reflect exactly in their personality.

PJ is surly, rude and sarcastic, so personality-wise they're a lot more similar to Error than they are to Ink, and this includes their propension to destruction and violence rather than creation and art; Gradient, meanwhile, is soft-spoken, shy, socially awkward, a rather talented artist and a bit of a people-pleaser, so he got Ink's personality more than Error's.

(In many other AUs, I always headcanon that, if Error and Ink were to die/retire, PJ would become the next Destroyer and Gradient the next Protector for this reason).

However, if we go deeper, we can see that PJ cares a lot about things, that they're very loyal and driven, even if they can be impulsive (this is Ink's side coming through); following the same reasoning, Gradient is nice, but he can be calculating and obsessive, and even cruel if push comes to shove (this is all Error).

To explain with an example, if PJ wants revenge on you, they'd probably just shout at you or beat you up if you deserved it, but then they'd let it go; Gradient, on the other hand, would probably act nice to your face and then hit you were it hurts when you least expect it.

Basically, PJ is the brawns and Gradient is the brains.

In terms of powers, both kids can use either creative or destructive powers, though they each prefer one side (Gradient creation, and PJ destruction), but they also have another type of power: PJ has power over time, while Gradient has power over space. So, PJ can create time loops, go forward and bacwards in time a bit, see different branches in timelines, while Gradient can teleport effortlessly through the Multiverse better than anyone else, create portals linking places together, make pocket dimensions.

(@stargazeraldroth wrote a throwaway line in a story about PJ and Gradient working together to create a never ending corridor as a prank by combining their powers, and I think this sums up their relationship perfectly).

All of this to kinda contextualize, what is their relationship with each other and their parents?

The twins are very close, best friends, and together they're an unstoppable tag-team (if they decide you're dead, you're dead); whevener they fight, it's always resolved quickly, and there's no hard feelings.

Regarding Ink, both kids are mama's boys: very affectionate with Ink, just as protective as their dad. PJ is a bit louder about it ("What did you say to my mom?!") but Gradient is a bit more proactive ("Oh my, you tripped? How unlucky..."). Ink the one that also disciplines them more often, because Error doesn't care about the mess they make inside the Multiverse as long as it doesn't affect him lol. Gradient is a bit closer with Ink, because he shares similar interests, while PJ will willingly spend time with Ink painting, but doesn't enjoy it themselves.

Error is a bit more hands off, but it doesn't mean he loves the kids any less: he rarely tells them he loves them or that he's proud, but he knows and remembers everything they tell him/talk about, and gives them thoughtful gifts taking those things into account. When he spends time with Gradient, it's them together in silence doing things they both enjoy, while with PJ it's a bit meaner, but the fun kind ("You ready, brat?" "bring it on, old man!").

One last thing that Error and PJ both share? Their dislike of Dream lmao, because given his upbringing, he developed some confusing feelings for Ink: the poor guy idolized Ink from a young age, so he's in-between wanting a parental bond with him and having a crush, and neither option is something Error or PJ like, despite the fact that Ink would never replace either of them with Dream. Ah, they're jealous, what can you do?

All in all, they're very close and happy together.

[fivesmannequinwife]

Five’s appearence

So, uh, Ig everything that happened in the last 3 seasons just… didn’t happen anymore, right?

Every trace remaining from the Original Lives (tattoos, damage, scars, and even death) have been erased. Diego’s scars, Klaus’ tattoos and possible internal damage caused by constant use of drugs and alcohol, Luther’s death, Five’s missing limb, it’s all erased. This leads me to believe that all the things that they acquired through life are gone because that life didn’t happen.

However, there is one thing that remains: Five’s appearance.

 We know this isn’t Five’s natural appearance. He’s in his late 50s. It doesn’t make any sense that he remains a 13yo.

 Assuming that this is Reginald’s perfect universe (since Allison only pressed the button) I would have assumed that the apocalypse didn’t happen, given that the whole point of his death in S1 was to bring the Umbrellas back to avoid it. Ans now that he has his creepy dead bride back, i doubt he’d want to risk it all again for nothing. 

 The Commission likely also no longer exists since Five no longer has the missing arm and tattoo that Old Founder Five did. But if the Commission no longer exists, nothing preserves the timeline and no one rescued Five from the apocalypse.

 HOWEVER, these Five and Viktor don’t have powers.

 If Viktor doesn’t have any powers he couldn’t have caused the apocalypse (once again, perfect for Reggie if he doesn’t want the world to end)

 But if there is no apocalypse, Five couldn’t have jumped to it and gotten stuck there for 40+ years, and thus he couldn’t have made a contract with the Commission and made wrong calculations and gotten stuck in his teen body… also, Five doesn’t even have powers, thus he couldn’t have jumped even if there were an apocalypse!

 My point here is that if nothing from all the previous seasons happened, it makes no sense that Five still looks 13yo. He should look 30, like his siblings, because he didn’t get stuck in the apocalypse and thus didn’t age more than his siblings. Either this is a plothole (likely due to not wishing to change the actor for Five, thank god cuz Gallagher is amazing), or there will be a whole bigger mess due to Five’s existence.

 Also! 1 last thought because my braincells are burning:

 Do y’all think Lila is still pregnant? Hopeful thinking aside, all traces of the past life disappeared, and the pregnancy is a trace from the 60s, and neither Reginald nor Allison knew of the pregnancy.

[whentherewerebicycles]

ok just tiny bit of processing under the cut sorry

my brother and SIL just did a very small little gender surprise thing and sent the video out to the family group chat and everyone is so excited and discussing names and I’m just like. I don’t know. I’m obviously so excited to have a baby in the family but I don’t know how to not feel crushingly sad about it. I want to feel normal and happy for them but god I just feel crushingly sad. why did we have to get pregnant at LITERALLY the exact same time? of course it still would’ve been hard if we had been on different timelines, but I feel like it might have felt a little less raw. every time they announce they’ve hit some new milestone, I’m forced to think about how I would also be experiencing that right now if things had been just the tiniest bit different. I feel like before they told me about the baby I was getting to this good place of like, closure and acceptance and getting ready to move on. but now it’s like I have to experience this phantom pregnancy alongside theirs, where as we hit each milestone, they get to celebrate having a healthy baby and I have to experience that sense of wrenching failure again. I feel like I failed. I feel like I fucked up carrying a baby, fucked it up so badly that I lost both the baby and a piece of my reproductive system, and now I feel so much awful wracking doubt about whether I’ll ever be able to do it successfully. and it is just hard to be reminded over and over again that my SIL didn’t fail. she didn’t fuck it up. she’s married and she’s skinny and blonde and pretty and they’re rich and they own a nice house and they made a baby for free on like the first fucking try and their baby is healthy and my parents will move out here so they can dote on their first grandkid. and I just fucked up, you know? with my busted reproductive system and my aging fat never-quite-feminine-enough body and my sad little attempts to do it on my own because I don’t have a partner and whatever.

I know that’s not right, I know that’s not how I really feel about her or about myself, but that’s the ugly mean little shame voice whispering in my head. I just feel kinda bad. I just wish they could have had this experience six months from now or something instead of at the exact. same. fucking. time I would’ve been having it. I keep thinking about how sick at heart I felt that whole long weekend in mendocino, so afraid that something was going to go wrong, that I was going to fuck this up somehow. so terrified to let myself feel the joy of it cleanly. checking the stupid miscarriage risk calculator four hundred times a day. praying for my boobs to hurt more, for my uterus to keep cramping, for my nausea to keep intensifying. just praying for my body to do this one thing for me. I never let myself feel the joy of it cleanly, but I’ve felt the gutting grief of it in so many ways. I feel like as their baby becomes more and more real, mine becomes less and less of a thing that ever mattered to anyone or anything. I don’t need the baby I didn’t have to be the center of everyone’s attention and energy and care. I don’t want that! but I don’t know how to handle this feeling that watching their pregnancy is forcing me to keep carrying mine, long after I needed to gently, grievingly put it down.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

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

Chapter Seventy-Three

The war council room in Harrenhall exuded an atmosphere of gravity and urgency, illuminated by streaks of daylight filtering through the narrow windows carved into the ancient stone walls. At the center of the dimly lit chamber stood a large wooden table, its surface cluttered with meticulously drawn maps depicting the shifting tides of battle between the Blacks and the Greens. Figures representing the forces of each faction were arranged strategically across the maps, their positions and movements subject to intense scrutiny and debate.

Around the table, half a dozen men of varying ranks and stations gathered, their faces etched with determination and resolve. Some were adorned in the regal garb befitting their noble status, while others wore the practical attire of seasoned warriors, their armor bearing the insignias of their respective Houses. Among them were representatives from influential families such as Peake, Vance, Butterwell, and Tarbeck, each bringing their own perspectives and strategies to the discussion.

As the murmurs of conversation filled the room, the councilors delved deep into the intricacies of military tactics and diplomatic maneuvers, their voices rising and falling in heated debates and calculated deliberations. All sound stopped when Maera entered the room, the men rising from their seats, heads bowed as a sign of respect of her station as Princess.

Her graceful stride carried her confidently into the chamber, her gaze fixed upon the figure standing at the head of the table—her husband. Even Maera, with her resolve and determination, couldn't help but feel a stirring of excitement at the sight of Aemond commanding the room with his authoritative presence. His tall, imposing figure exuded an aura of power and strength that demanded attention and respect from all those in his midst.

Turning her attention to Aemond’s left, Maera’s eyes alighted upon Alys, standing by his side with a finger tracing a path on the map spread out before them. A fleeting pang of resentment flickered within Maera as she beheld the woman who had inserted herself into their lives, her features composed but her presence a constant reminder of the complexities of their situation.

Undeterred, Maera continued her movements across the room. Her attire, a masterful blend of regal elegance and practicality, featured layers of supple leather adorned with intricate golden dragon motifs. The loose black cotton skirts accommodated her growing belly with grace, cinched at the waist by a gleaming golden belt that accentuated her noble bearing. Compared to Alys’s simple attire, Maera’s ensemble exuded an undeniable majesty, a visual embodiment of her status as a princess of House Targaryen.

With a forced smile, Maera addressed the room, her tone polite but tinged with an underlying edge. "I was not aware there was a meeting scheduled for this morning," she remarked, her eyes meeting Aemond's briefly before turning to address the others.

Aemond replied smoothly, his expression betraying nothing of the tension between them from the day before. "I did not wish to disturb your rest," he said, his tone casual.

As Maera reached Aemond’s side, she maintained her regal composure, the graceful tilt of her head belying the underlying assertion of her presence. The other counsellors may have interpreted her interactions as nothing more than the love a wife held for her husband, yet that was far from the truth. It was a silent challenge, a reminder of their discord from the previous night. “Always so considerate of my well-being, husband,” she chirped, a gentle smile on his face.

With practiced poise, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, a seemingly tender gesture that carried a subtle undertone of ownership, a silent reminder of her place by his side. "But alas," she continued, "the war does not sleep when I do." Her comment elicited chuckles from the other lords as they took their seats around the table. Maera's gaze flickered past Aemond to Alys, who stood beside him.

The witch shifted uncomfortably, her hand instinctively moving to cradle her swollen belly, a protective gesture that seemed almost instinctual. After a moment of reluctance, Alys curtsied to Maera, a gesture that did little to mask the tension between them.

“I am sure your counsel has been valuable thus far, Alys,” Maera remarked with a forced politeness. “But if you could take a seat beside one of the other attendees, we can commence the discussion.”

Alys’s face contorted into a fleeting scowl before quickly smoothing into a mask of forced civility as she gently protested, “I was just in the midst of exploring army movements in the Westerlands, Princess.” There was a subtle defiance in her gaze as she faced Maera head on, causing Aemond to clear his throat against the backdrop of awkward silence.

Though her outward demeanor remained composed, there was a steely determination in Maera’s eyes, a silent promise of the consequences that would befall any who dared to challenge her authority. Beneath the surface calm, a simmering resolve burned, fueling her determination to assert her dominance and put Alys firmly in her place. "I am eager to hear of these developments as well," she replied evenly, "but I'm sure you can do so from the other end of the table.” Alys held Maera’s gaze for a moment and did not move, but the princess didn’t waver. Maera asserted herself once more, “It seems more fitting that the Princess should be situated beside the Prince, as opposed to a… seer.”

A tense silence hung in the air as Alys held Maera's gaze for a moment before relenting with a respectful nod. She made her way to the other end of the table and took her seat, her expression unreadable. Maera settled herself on the right side of her husband, her presence a silent declaration of her authority and position. “Now then, could someone explain to me what has been discussed so far?”

Ser Adrian rose respectfully, nodding at Maera before addressing her. “Princess, the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, or Targaryen as he is now styling himself, has returned to Dragonstone after securing an alliance with the North.” He gestured to a black dragon figure now situated on the island on the map. Maera acknowledged his report with a nod, prompting him to continue. “The North has contributed eighteen thousand men to support Rhaenyra’s cause, along with an additional two thousand known as the Winter Wolves.”

Another Lord, bearing the sigil of House Peake, spoke up. “This indicates an imminent invasion of King’s Landing from the North. Something that can be prevented so long as we hold Harrenhall.” Maera nodded in agreement, offering the lord a small smile in appreciation for his contribution. Despite feeling her husband's intense gaze on her, she remained focused on the discussion.

Ser Adrian moved across the table, positioning himself between two other lords as he shifted a Hightower beacon figure across the map. “Lord Ormund Hightower commands an army of nine thousand strong, preventing any invasion from the Black allies of the Reach,” he explained. As Maera scanned the map, Ser Adrian continued speaking. “However, even with our supporters in the Crownlands, Reach, and Stormlands, in terms of preventing an invasion…”

“It won’t be enough,” Maera interjected, finishing his sentence with a grim determination.

Ser Adrian gestured towards the Westerlands. “Before you entered, the Lady Alys suggested—oh no, wait, forgive me, not Lady. I—uhm,” he stumbled over his words, causing Maera to sigh with a small smile, the subtle twitch at the corner of her lips betraying her amusement.

However, as she pondered the implications of Alys being referred to as “Lady,” a deeper thought crossed her mind, prompting a fleeting furrow of her brow. The realization that Alys wielded significant influence in Harrenhall and held sway over Aemond, coupled with her pregnancy, suggested that perhaps she was indeed regarded as a Lady by some members of the council. Despite this realization, Maera masked her contemplation with a chuckle, and a raise her hand as a signal for the knight to stop.

“No offense caused, good brother. Given everything that has occurred, I can understand how these things can get confusing,” Maera laughed, offering a reassuring nod to Ser Adrian. She glanced briefly at her husband, noting the tension in his jaw at Maera’s jibe directed at him, before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. “I’m sure Alys is honored to be mistaken for a Lady. Now, Alys, what were you saying before I entered the room?”

Alys’s reaction to Maera’s laughter was swift, a fleeting tense of her features before she composed herself. Without missing a beat, she rose from her seat and approached the map, pointing to the Westerlands.

“As a good number of the King’s Army is currently indisposed through executing the traitors of the Crownlands, we need greater support from the West,” Alys began, her voice carrying a hint of urgency, her hand lingering on her swollen belly in a gesture that seemed almost pointed, as if to emphasize her status and authority. She picked up a green figure shaped like a lion and placed it in the Riverlands on the map. “The Lannister army can support us here at Harrenhall and defend King’s Landing from an attack from the Northerners.”

Maera studied the map with a furrowed brow, her gaze tracing the movements of the figurines representing the Blacks and Greens across the Riverlands. The disparity in numbers, with Harrenhall seemingly surrounded by enemies, did not escape her notice, prompting a deepening of the crease between her brows as she pondered their strategy. “We have more enemies than allies in the Riverlands. And those closest to the Westerlands in the Reach are Blacks. Are we so sure these armies will not be ambushed?”

“That is what I said, Princess!” exclaimed the Peake Lord from earlier, echoing Maera’s concerns. With his support, Maera’s expression softened slightly with a glimmer of hope. She recognized the significance of finding support in the midst of adversity, and the possibility of forging alliances provided a ray of optimism amidst the gloom of her precarious situation.

Alys interjected confidently, “There will be no attack from the Rivermen or traitors in the Reach. I have seen the lion swim through the river and make it onto dry land unharmed.”

Maera huffed in frustration at Alys’s supposed prophecy, her annoyance evident in the way she rubbed her temples and sighed heavily. Despite the logic behind their strategic analysis, Alys’s insistence on invoking prophecy introduced an element of uncertainty and doubt, complicating their plans and undermining Maera’s efforts to navigate the complexities of their situation with pragmatism and reason.

“What are your thoughts, my Prince?” inquired a knight with the sigil of House Butterwell adorned on his chest plate, addressing Aemond.

The Prince’s one-eyed gaze swept across the room, absorbing the opinions of the council with a thoughtful expression. With a quiet hum, he rose from his seat and strode purposefully across the room, his movements deliberate and confident. His tall and lean form exuded an aura of authority, clad in black leather garments that accentuated his imposing presence.

As Aemond stood before the map, his eye lingered intently on the marked regions, his mind calculating the strategic implications of their next move. With decisive gestures, he shifted a black dragon figure from Harrenhall to the border of the Riverlands and the North, signaling a shift in their tactical positioning. “If I patrol here daily, where an attack is most likely, we will be able to identify it sooner,” he concluded, his voice firm and decisive, earning nods of agreement from the attending lords.

Maera's eyes followed her husband's movements, her expression thoughtful as she studied the map. Despite the complexities of their situation, she couldn't help but admire Aemond's adeptness at command and his astute grasp of battle tactics. Rising from her seat, she stepped beside him, her form brushing against his as she pointed toward the Westerlands, offering her own insights and suggestions in unity with her husband's strategic vision.

“Half the Rivermen are sworn to Rhaenyra. What is stopping them from invading Harrenhall or preventing the Westerlands forces from reaching us?”As Maera spoke, Aemond’s gaze drifted down to her, a twinkle of admiration shimmering in his violet eye, his stare carrying a depth that momentarily left her breathless. A subtle blush tinted her cheeks, but she couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips, buoyed by the pride of earning her husband’s respect.

Their shared moment was abruptly interrupted by the grating voice of Alys, clearly disgruntled. “That will not happen, as I have already said.”

Maera chose to ignore the interruption and with deliberate movements, she maneuvered black figurines across the map, mapping out their strategic maneuvers. She then fixed her gaze back to her husband, her tone firm. “You patrol the North. Daeron patrols the South, stopping traitors in the Reach from invading Kings Landing. Yet here,” she gestured to the West, “we are vulnerable.”

Aemond nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing in contemplation, echoed by murmurs of agreement from the other lords. Before he could respond, Alys interjected again, confidently, “I have seen that the Westerlands are safe from attack.”

“And I have seen with my two eyes that I command a dragon almost as large as Vhagar. It would be foolish not to use him,” Maera retorted, her voice laced with disdain as she turned her attention back to her husband. “I suggest I patrol this border, as a cautionary measure.”

Aemond met her gaze, his expression thoughtful as he considered her proposal. “Are you sure?” Aemond asked Maera, concern evident in his tone as he glanced at his wife. Maera replied with a determined nod, her eyes reflecting her resolve, before Aemond turned his attention to the room. “Are we all in agreement?” With nods and murmurs filling the room, indicating their consensus, the decision was made.

A rush of validation surged through her, her insights held weight in his decision-making process. In that moment, she felt empowered and respected, her contributions valued by the one person whose opinion mattered most to her. It bolstered her confidence and reaffirmed her belief in their partnership, igniting a sense of purpose within her.

However, Alys who was clearly unhappy with this stood from her seat as if to protest, her defiance radiated from her posture. Her cat-like green eyes bore into Maera, filled with resentment and challenge, while strands of her dark brown hair fell forward as she stood.

Maera, taken aback by Alys’s insolence, quickly intervened with words that appeared polite on the surface but carried an undercurrent of authority and command. “You look tired, Alys. Perhaps you should rest,” Maera said with a sly grin. “I have spoken with Maester Cain; he is awaiting you in his chambers for an examination.”

Alys clenched her jaw, her gaze briefly shifting to Aemond, hoping for support. However, Aemond’s reaction was not what she had hoped for. Instead of backing her up, he responded with a distasteful expression, merely raising an eyebrow in a reproachful manner, signaling his disapproval of her outburst to his wife. The witch huffed in frustration, her agitation palpable in the air, she reluctantly offered a small curtsy to the Prince and Princess, her movements stiff with indignation. The swish of her simple green dress as she turned to storm out of the room echoed her inner turmoil.

Maera's reaction was one of restrained triumph, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her features as she watched Alys depart. She knew that while this victory may have tilted the scales in her favor for the moment, the conflict between them was far from resolved.

“Have we received an update from Cole?” The Prince addressed the room once more as he returned to his seat at the opposite end of the table, his long, straight silver hair cascaded down his back, framing his sharp features. His posture exuded confidence and authority as he resumed his position, his violet eye scanning the room with a keen gaze.

Maera followed him, her eyes briefly capturing the elegance of his movements as he pulled out the chair for her. She couldn’t help but appreciate his gesture of care, a small warmth blossoming within her. As she sat down, Aemond pushed in her chair before taking his own seat, his presence beside her reassuring in the midst of the council’s deliberations.

“Yes, Prince Aemond,” an elderly Lord from House Vance began, unfurling a scroll for reference. “The Lord Commander has executed Lord Darklyn. Unfortunately, there has been quite an uproar in Duskendale.”

Maera furrowed her brow before strange sensation fluttered in her lower stomach, like a gentle fluttering of wings. Instinctively, she placed her hand over her abdomen, attributing the sensation to nerves regarding the topic of discussion. She listened intently as the Lord continued. “His guards and the common folk have protested, causing our forces to attempt to restore order.”

“Why do they not simply leave?” Maera inquired, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern. She did not want to appear ignorant, but surely if the execution was done then the host of soldiers could return to the task at hand? Thankfully, Maera’s brother-in-law was able to explain the reasoning behind it.

“It is a port, Princess,” Ser Adrian replied, offering clarification. “It may affect trade if balance is not restored.”

The Peake Lord elaborated, “And given the state of the Gullet at present, we need every port we can get to maintain trade.”

Of course, Maera thought. It was still difficult to get food, livestock, and weapons into the Crownlands due to the Velaryon fleet blocking access. Maera’s inherited fleet from Morne was providing security for trade ships but the loss in products meant the arrangement could not last forever. By turning Duskendale green, it would allow trade to arrive easily into Kings Landing.

“Has any headway been made with Essos? Perhaps they could assist with moving the Velaryon naval forces?” inquired the Butterwell knight.

“No, the Essossi are even more stubborn than the Dornish. They only protect their own, and since we have no relationships with the magisters, the chances are slim,” replied the old Lord Vance.

Essos had previously ignored pleas for aid made by the previous Hand of the King, Lord Otto, citing they did not wish to involve themselves in a war that did not concern them. However with the East trading so much with the West, the events that of the Dance of the Dragons was bound to affect them sooner or later.

A thought occurred in the Princess’s mind; she received updates every few months from a link who had travelled across the continent of Essos, one who had said they would offer support however they could, if she asked for it.

Maera interjected swiftly, “My brother Dermot is currently staying with a magister in Myr.” Her words commanded the room's attention, including that of her husband. “I could ask my brother to implore the magister on behalf of our cause.”

Ser Adrian was the first to respond, “That just might work, Princess.” The other Lords nodded in agreement, including Aemond, who displayed a faint smile.

A few hours had passed with the discussion of battle strategies within the council, yet even though Maera attempted to immerse herself, she found herself in awe of her husband’s ability to command the room. Her irritation from the night before seemed distant, and she couldn't help but be impressed. He listened to his advisors but was also able to assert himself using logic and the unique knowledge of riding on dragonback whilst jotting down notes of points that had been mentioned.

Aemond wanted to win this war, that was plain to see. She was unsure of his reasons, but supposed they could be many; an attempt to prove himself to his family as the more adept Prince, through duty of upholding is brother’s rightful claim to the throne, or to make the world a safer place for his House and its descendants. The Prince also divulged plans to the Lords for the royal children to be sent to ward in distant lands. One of the Lords even disclosed that Rhaenyra had similar intentions for her youngest children.

The old Lord Vance rolled his eyes. “I do not see why we don’t just kill her little bastards already. We should not risk bastard blood on the Iron Throne.” Maera's reaction was unexpected as she slammed her fists onto the table and rose from her seat in anger, surprising both herself and the other attendees, her green eyes flashing with intensity. As she stood, she felt that odd sensation in her lower stomach once more.

Closing her eyes briefly, Maera couldn't shake the haunting image of young Jaehaerys's blood staining the stone floor, his headless body cradled in Helaena's arms. A tear welled in her eye, a silent testament to the grief and horror that still gripped her heart.

Suddenly, Maera's eyes snapped open, her senses sharpening as she realized where she was. She couldn't afford to show emotion, especially not to these Lords who viewed such displays as weakness. Her actions needed to be driven by logic and principle, not by the haunting memories of a lost child or the fear for her own unborn child's safety. “The Blacks murdered the King's first-born son. If we do the same, how does that make us any better? What would the Realm think?”

Maera felt a reassuring hand on her lower back, a gentle pressure that grounded her as tension radiated through the room. Glancing up, she met her husband’s concerned gaze, finding solace in the silent understanding that passed between them. With a subtle nod, she relaxed her furrowed brow, silently acknowledging that her outburst was fueled by deep-seated emotions.

“Let us be done for today,” Aemond declared, swiftly ending the meeting. The other lords and knights rose from their seats and filed out of the room, leaving only the prince and princess in the heavy silence that followed. With a shared glance, Aemond and Maera wordlessly acknowledged the weight of the meeting and the unspoken understanding between them.

However, Maera was not quite ready to face her husband after the tumultuous events of the day before and the emotions it stirred within her. Without a word, she turned abruptly and made her way out of the chamber despite Aemond calling after her, retreating to the solitude of her chambers to gather her thoughts in private.

That evening in their shared chambers, the atmosphere was markedly different from their quarters in the Red Keep. The room was spacious but dimly lit, with heavy drapes covering the windows, casting long shadows across the wooden furnishings. The air held a chill, seeping in from the ancient stone walls of the fortress.

Upon the table between them lay a modest spread of food, far less extravagant than what they were accustomed to in King's Landing. There were simple dishes of roasted meats, bread, and vegetables, accompanied by a jug of wine and a few goblets. The fare lacked the refinement of royal feasts, reflecting the more austere conditions of their current surroundings.

As Maera and Aemond sat opposite each other, the atmosphere was palpably tense. The silence between them was thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, casting a heavy weight over the room. Despite the flickering candlelight and the warmth of the hearth, an undeniable chill lingered in the air, a reflection of the strained relationship between husband and wife.

Throughout the day, Aemond and Maera had been occupied with their respective duties and interests, scarcely crossing paths since the morning council meeting. Aemond had attended to his princely responsibilities, while Maera had wandered the grounds of Harrenhall before immersing herself in the depths of the castle's library.

As they finally reunited at the dinner table, the couple sat in a subdued silence, each absorbed in their own activities. Their plates were filled with food, though neither seemed particularly focused on eating. Aemond diligently worked on his ledger, his attention devoted to the meticulous task at hand. Meanwhile, Maera delved into the pages of a book chronicling the history of Aegon's Conquest, the familiar tale offering her a convenient refuge from conversation with her husband.

Engrossed in her reading, Maera was startled when she heard the distinct sound of Aemond setting down his fork. Raising her gaze from the pages, she found herself meeting the Prince's eye, a subtle tension lingering between them as unspoken thoughts hung heavy in the air.

“I must commend you, wife,” he began, his voice carefully measured. “Your contributions to the council meeting were impressive.”

Maera scoffed softly, her gaze never leaving the pages of her book as she turned them with deliberate precision. “At least my ideas are grounded in logic, unlike some who prefer to chase after fantastical prophecies,” she retorted, her tone laced with subtle disdain.

Aemond paused, his jaw tightening imperceptibly as he tore his gaze away, a fleeting shadow crossing his features at the mention of Alys. After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “I will speak with her regarding her conduct,” he stated, his eye meeting Maera’s briefly before darting away.

Maera absorbed his words in silence, a myriad of emotions swirling within her despite the veneer of composure she maintained. Despite the betrayal that still lingered between them, she couldn’t deny a glimmer of gratitude towards Aemond for attempting to mend the rift, as well as his support for her ideas in the meeting. With a nod of acknowledgment, she murmured a quiet "Thank you," before returning her focus to her book, her appetite waning as she picked at her food.

An odd sensation stirred in Maera's lower stomach once more, drawing a frown to her features as she contemplated its source. A memory from her childhood flashed before her eyes, her mother's gentle voice and the sensation of laying her head on her stomach. Suddenly, the pieces fell into place, and Maera placed a hand on her abdomen, feeling the subtle movements beneath her skin.

Aemond's brows furrowed in concern as he noticed Maera's expression, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "Is everything alright?" he inquired, his voice tinged with worry.

Maera's lips curved into a faint smile as she glanced up at him, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. "The baby's kicking," she replied softly, a mixture of awe and wonder dancing in her eyes.

Aemond rose from his seat with a sense of urgency, his ledger forgotten as he closed the distance between himself and Maera. His steps were swift yet deliberate, each movement betraying his eagerness to be by her side. "When did it start?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and excitement as he approached her.

Maera's laughter bubbled forth like a melody as she glanced up at him, her eyes alight with mirth. "Just this morning," she replied, her tone filled with amusement. "It's not quite what I expected it to feel like."

Kneeling beside her, Aemond's gaze drifted down to her delicate bump, his hand hovering uncertainly in the air before pulling back, unsure if Maera would welcome his touch. A soft sigh escaped Maera's lips, her resolve softening despite the lingering anger between them. She reached out, gently guiding his hand to her lower stomach, her own hand covering his as she pressed it against the curve of her bump.

In that moment, as the tiny babe stirred beneath her touch, Aemond’s breath caught in his throat as he marveled at the movement. "How big is the babe now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eye never leaving the swell of Maera's abdomen.

"About the size of a potato, if I recall correctly," Maera replied, her voice soft and tender as she met Aemond's gaze with a fond smile.

Aemond’s brows furrowed slightly as he contemplated her words, his gaze lingering on her with a mix of concern and curiosity. “Does it hurt?” he asked tentatively, his voice laced with genuine concern.

Maera’s laughter echoed softly in the intimate space between them as she shook her head, her hand tightening gently around his. “No, it’s actually quite nice,” she admitted, a hint of fondness coloring her tone. “Knowing that our little one is here.”

As the silence enveloped them like a warm embrace, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows across the room, Aemond's gaze lifted to meet Maera's, his hand still resting against her stomach. "Do you think all will be well? In our marriage?" he asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Maera's expression softened as she considered his question, her gaze searching his for a moment before she replied, her tone gentle yet uncertain. "Time will tell," she said softly, her fingers intertwining with his as they shared a fleeting moment of connection amidst the uncertainty of their future.

Notes: Bitchy plus fluffy equals this chapter 🤣 also next chapter I’m thinking of posting an Aemond POV just to break it up. I’ve got about 6 so far and I just know these are going to increase. So imma just litter them about and stick them in another section on the contents page

Tags: @0eessirk8 @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @manipulatixe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[skeilig]

I know that the Succession timeline isn't real and it can't hurt me or whatever but I can't help thinking about it... The shareholder vote (3.05) is stated to be 2 weeks out from "DC" (2.09) ... and apparently the election (4.08) is 6 months out from "What it Takes" (3.06) -- So, 3.06 is late April/early May if we take that literally. But Roman also accuses Matsson of dragging out the acquisition for "six fucking months" which implies the season 3 finale in Italy isn't toooo much longer after 3.06 (Roman could be rounding up but it's still probably at least 4-5 months (which aligns with Shiv's pregnancy as well), so the Italy wedding could be in... June?) and then going back further, season 1 actually has a super clear timeline because we go from Logan's birthday (late October) to Shiv and Tom's wedding (stated a few times to be in March) -- so we have this potential March-June window for all of seasons 2 and 3, and considering we spend so much of season 2 being "two weeks out from the shareholder vote" ... and the aforementioned tightness of the timeline thanks to the election cycle... according to my calculations, we have two options: all of season 2 and half of season 3 took place in April, OR an entire calendar year slipped by during season 2 without us really noticing it, and that seems less likely somehow? bashing my head against a wall for real.

[jareaulover]

Hi I don’t know if you are still taking requests for JJ/Will, but if you are can you write a one-shot about if JJ didn’t have the miscarriage? Thanks ☺️

I love writing JJ/Will, getting requests for them makes me so happy, you have no idea.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns/shooting is mentioned in relation to their case in the beginning, throwing up/morning sickness, other pregnancy related things.

I hope you enjoy this. I used a timeline on the wiki to try and calculate when she would have been pregnant during her time overseas, but i could be off. Also, on the wiki if you look at Will's family it says "Maggie LaMontagne (Unborn daughter)" And I'm not sure who decided that, but I used a different name for the baby because I couldn't find anywhere else that said that was supposed to be her name, but I can change it if I find proof that's true.

summary: JJ doesn't go on her overseas assignment

Read on AO3

or

Full Story under the cut

Their case was in Tampa, it hadn't been long since Prentiss had... Everyone was still pretty raw and JJ hated that she had to keep what she knew from her coworkers. It had really been taking a toll on her, and even she was grieving. She knew Prentiss was still alive and well, but she couldn't talk to her or anything... It was hard, but she knew it was harder for the others, the ones who thought Prentiss was dead. JJ was shaken from her thoughts as the phone rang. Spencer, Morgan, Seaver, and herself were seated around a table in the Tampa Police station. Spencer answered the call and put Hotch and Rossi on speaker.

"She had access to ammo for a .38, but not to a gun." Hotch spoke,

"She most likely lives with someone who is into guns, but doesn't allow her access." Spencer started, Morgan continued to conversation, but JJ didn't hear what he was saying because she felt saliva coat the inside of her mouth and the familiar feeling in her stomach. She excused herself and made a beeline to the women's restroom. As soon as she was in front of the toilet she began throwing up. Her throat burned as everything she had eaten that morning made a reappearance. It hadn't been much, but it was more than the saltine crackers she would typically limit herself to in these times. She sat back against the stall and sighed. She knew she would have to tell the team soon, but she hadn't even had a chance to sit down and tell Will yet. She only just found out right after everything happened with Emily and since then she's been on cases... JJ sighed and stood up from the bathroom floor. She flushed the toilet and went to clean up.

---

It wasn't too long before they identified the woman and had tracked her to a local restaurant called 'Sir Burger'. They had the place surrounded but she wasn't giving up. While the others were dealing with the active hostage situation, JJ was trying, with the help of a couple officers, to keep the media at bay. But all she could think of was that little boy. She understood why their suspect was upset, JJ also thought about her own little boy. She kept a straight face for the cameras that surrounded her, but inside she just felt like crying. 

Soon, Hotch was able to calm the woman down and coax the gun from her. JJ watched as she was put into a police car and driven away. She couldn't help but feel bad for the woman, all she wanted was her son back.. JJ pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the photo of Henry that was her lock screen.

---

JJ entered the home that she and Will shared. She sat her go bag down in the entry way and kicked off her shoes,

"Will?" She called quietly, in case Henry was asleep. She rounded the corner into the living room to find her husband asleep on the couch with her son asleep on his chest. She couldn't help but smile at the sight. She rested her hand over her stomach. Soon, Henry would have a new sibling and she couldn't be happier. She moved closer to the two and slowly lifted the boy who was still practically a baby. He was a little over a year old now. As she lifted him, Will opened his eyes and blinked at her a few times,

"JJ?" He murmured. JJ rested Henry's head on her shoulder,

"Yeah, its me." She whispered. He smiled and pushed himself into a sitting position, 

"What time is it?" He asked. JJ glanced at the clock, 

"About 1:30 am." She said, "Why don't you go get in bed?" She said, Will nodded and stood up. He kissed her and then Henry and made his way to their bedroom. JJ carried Henry to his crib and laid him down. The boy stirred slightly, but he fell asleep. JJ watched him sleep for a few minutes before making her way to the bedroom. Will was brushing his teeth when she entered the bedroom,

"How did it go in Tampa?" Will called from the master bathroom. JJ began to take off her skirt and blouse to change into some pajamas. JJ considered the question for a minute,

"About as well as you'd expect. We got our unsub, but she killed so many people and scared a lot more..." JJ said, she thought back to the mall. There had been so many kids there, luckily none of them got hurt. JJ relaxed into the bed as Will slid in beside her,

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, he knew that sometimes that helped, but other times JJ just wanted to forget about the cases. JJ shook her head,

"No, no  I want to talk about something else actually." She said. Will raised his eyebrows,

"Oh?" JJ nodded. She bit her lip,

"Henry is going to be a big brother." She said, a smile breaking out on her face, Will's eyes widened as he looked at her,

"Oh my god, JJ, thats amazing." He said, pulling his wife into a hug. She hugged him back and melted into his arms,

"I know, I'm so excited." She said, "I found out a couple weeks ago and I just couldn't find the right time to tell you with both of us working so much... But We're gonna have another baby." She said. Will smiled,

"When's the first ultrasound?" Will asked,

"I have an appointment next Thursday." She said, Will smiled and kissed her, JJ kissed him back, resting her hands on his stubble-covered chin.

"We'll go together." He said once they pulled away. JJ nodded.

---

It was another month or so before she decided to tell the team. They had been called for an early meeting and Hotch informed them that they may be contacted by other division because of budget cuts. As soon as he finished his sentence, his phone rang.

"Virginia state police believe they may have uncovered a serial killer." He spoke, "Dave you and Morgan head to the crime scene." the two nodded, but before they could move, JJ spoke up,

"Really fast..." She started, "I have some happier news for you guys." Everyone looked at her, but Spencer was the first one to realize,

"I'm getting another godson?" He said, smiling widely, JJ smile,

"It could be a god daughter." She said. Everyone smiled and congratulated JJ before heading to their assignments.

---

JJ's pregnancy had went healthy. They soon found out that they were going to have a baby girl and everyone was excited. The team held a little baby shower for her, Garcia had already bought a ton of outfits for the little girl and many different sizes. Everyone was so excited to welcome her.

It was November, the team had been sent to Kansas for a case and JJ was due within the week. She had decided to stay back for that very reason, then Henry got sick. He had ran a fever all day, but by the night he had broken the fever, JJ assumed the ibuprofen had helped. But the next morning while he was having breakfast, JJ and Will both felt that something was off. JJ sat Henry's pancakes in front of him, but he didn't dig in like he usually would. Henry was staring off, and that wasn't normal for him. JJ looked a her husband,

"Something is going on, Will..." She said and as soon as she did she noticed the small boy start to shake slightly, JJ's eyes widened and she and Will both jumped into action. JJ pulled the tray off his highchair and Will eased the kid to the floor, supporting his head as he seized.

"I'm calling an ambulance."  JJ said, pulling out her phone. A few minutes later, paramedics were loading her son into the ambulance. Will rode with them as JJ drove behind. That was when the first contraction happened. She'd been having false contractions for a few days, but this one felt different and she knew this one meant it was time, but she pushed the thought from her head. 'Henry needs me.' she told herself. 

---

JJ and Will sat together in the hospital room. They were told that seizures like this were common for kids his age, so they were going to be released shortly. JJ's contractions were getting closer together, but she had continued to hide them. But Will had noticed. Henry had moved to sit against JJ, his head was laying on her bump. JJ felt another contraction and she bit her lip and took some breaths, Will lifted Henry off of her and smiled,

"I guess we should head over to the maternity ward next?" He said. JJ blushed, "How far apart are they?" He asked.

"They're, uh, every 5 minutes now..." She admitted. Will smiled,

"Okay, I'll call Henry's sitter." He said, pulling out his phone as the doctor entered with Henry's release papers. JJ listened to the man as he gave them release instructions and then the small family made their way to the maternity part of the hospital.

___

Lucy Roslyn LaMontagne was born a few hours after JJ was admitted. She was a beautiful baby girl with a head full of blonde hair, just like her mom and her older brother. The couple were both so exhausted, but so happy. Soon, Henry was brought in to meet his new sister and when the team got back into town, they all crowded in to meet the new LaMontagne baby. JJ just wished Emily could be there to see the beautiful baby.

[seths-wife]

Meta is actually 2 years old at the time of the second project.

Yesterday I published a statement about Meta dying at 3-4 years of age.

In this post I will try backing up my statement.

In the old timeline of the "muzzle of Nemesis" album, Meta was stated to be born 22 years before the birth of Hansel and Gretel (the same time as Adam, according to the same).

That piece of information seems to have been changed in the "crime" novel, despite the fact Meta is stated to be 20 years old at one point.

Her only clear memories were after she had turned twenty years old. ("crime", chapter 5-escape of the witch salmhofer; scene 2).

Yet...something isn't quite right when you calculate her actual age.

Let me explain.

According to Seth's account in his "memory lane" chapter, he supposedly decided to bio-engineer Meta after "dying" as Horus, while staying in lunaca labora until the excitement about his suspected collusion with Pale and "Apocalypse" went down.

After that, Seth showed up to Adam once again as "Seth Twiright", instead of Horus...and that happened in this scene of Adam Moonlit's chapter.

Now...according to the same Adam Moonlit's chapter (the first lines of this scene), between Horus' disappearance and the summoning of the first project, only a year passed.

That means that Meta was born during the span of that year (considering Seth's telling of the events in his chapter).

Considering this, let's now try calculating the span of time occuring between Adam Moonlit's meeting with Eve and the both of them eventually fleeing to the forest.

Adam Moonlit says that two years had passed since Horus's death in the scene of the meeting with Eve Zvezda and her father, the villager's chief.

Adam hesitated for a moment, before telling the chief, “No…he’s passed on. Two years ago. Right now I’m working as director in his place.” ("crime", chapter 3, scene 2).

That implies that Meta was more or less two years old at that time (I would say even less than that because Meta wasn't born immediately after "Horus" disappearance, it must have taken the latter some time to bio-engineer her after that.

For that reason, I would say that Meta is actually one year and some months old at the time of the Moonlit's first meeting).

Now, without going into much detail on the time stamps of every chapter (if you want me to go deeper into that you can make an ask), between the Moonlit's first meeting and Eve's pregnancy, roughly a month and two weeks pass, while the stillbirth occurs roughly 8 months after the pregnancy.

She had been moved to Alicegrad castle as her place of residence after it had been eight months since her conception. ("crime", chapter 3, scene 16)

Soon after that, the Moonlits flee to the forest of Held.

So...the time span between the first encounter of the twins and their departure to the forest is of about almost a year (around 9 and half months, or ten months in total, putting into account the vagueness of the novel in the time stamps of some events).

In total, I estimate Meta has existed for roughly two years at the time of the end of the first project.

After the departure of the twins, Gammon's revolt occurs.

Honestly, I don't have sufficient time stamps to determine how much time the revolt lasts in the novel.

I just know that Meta is captured and "executed" (even though, we know that she actually isn't) after the revolt, since the "crime" novel sets the scenes immediately before the capture to happen after Gammon Loop Octopus became the new head of the senate, therefore after said revolt.

For the sake of the math, I will assume that the revolt in the novel happens one month after the twins' departure and lasts one or two more months (giving Gammon the time to organize the attack with his co-conspirators, invade the castle with his army, taking his father away, replacing all the senators, giving the announcements to the populace and make the necessary preparations for the second project, appointing Seth as the responsible for it).

The new head of the senate, Gammon Loop Octopus, had increased the numbers of the peacekeeping forces, restructured the organization, and then sent it out to crush Apocalypse as the "Royal Army". ("crime", chapter 5, scene 2).

The time span between Meta's capture and fake execution is about a bunch of days, most likely.

After that...Meta is impregnated with Hansel and Gretel and she was pregnant for "several months" (I will assume 9 for the math).

Several months passed from then—

And Meta gave birth to twins. ("crime", chapter 5, scene 9).

After her delivery, the twins are put on life support, and four days after Meta vanishes with them.

So...the time span between Gammon's revolt and Meta's escape with the twins should be around around one year more.

That makes up for a total of 3 years of Meta's existence, more or less.

After her escape, we don't know from the novel how much has passed since her death.

From the other installments (including the "muzzle of Nemesis" album booklet) it's stated that Meta was murdered in "ec 1", which stands for a year since the birth of Hansel and Gretel, in the series' calendar.

Therefore, I estimate that Meta has lived roughly for 4 years in total, more or less, without a more accurate dating system from the "crime" novel.

But...how is this possible? How can a 4 year old character be as big as a 20+ year old she's made out to be?

Well...ghoul children all seem to suffer of a "excessively rapid aging" problem. You can see that with Pale, Horus' body and Seth's latest body too.

“This body…I had thought it to be a successful vessel, but it appears it was not. One day it just suddenly started aging rapidly.” ("punishment", chapter 5, scene 3).

Apparently, Meta is no exception to that, and maybe all ghoul children, including Irina.

[duggardata]

Now that Nathanael Wissman is married when does the predictor think he and his wife will be expecting? What if they followed Hannah + Jer’s timeline?

Based on Wissmann Data, they're forecast to announce Pregnancy #1 on October 6, 2023 and have the baby on March 27, 2024. The Predictor projects they'll have 10 Children with Child Spacings that range from 723–924 Days apart, depending on Katrina's age.

Jer + Hannah (Wissmann) Duggar announced Pregnancy #1 on Day 157 of their marriage. The Due Date is unknown, but—based on the timing of their Pregnancy Announcement and Sex Reveal—Duggar Data thinks it's sometime between February 17–March 4, 2023, and uses the mid–point (February 25, 2023) as a very Approximate Due Date (ADD). After a few quick calculations... They announced at 101 Days Along.

Nathanael married Katrina Sahlstrom on October 15, 2022. Their 157th Day of marriage will be March 21, 2023. If they announce a pregnancy that day and Katrina is 101 Days Along, the Due Date would be September 16, 2022. Based on Wissmann Data, Katrina would be expected to deliver on September 17, 2023. That'd be a Marriage–to–Firstborn Spacing of 337 Days. That, along with the Wissmann 2nd Child Multiplier, gives them a Baseline Procreative Pace (BPP) of 454 Days. Factoring in Maternal Age, the Predictor would ultimately expect their Child Spacings to be 454–598 Days apart, and their ESOQ would be 15 Children.

[concubuck]

Okay, you said send theories and I shall. Now the problem was I have not been reading the blog that closely until the mid-summer, so sadly I do not have an encyclopedic knowledge of the stuff that has gone on, but I have a tumblr archive, a search bar, and insomnia. I looked up when 19 weeks ago was, and it seems to be mid april exactly april 13th as of yesterday I think or today (give or take a few days). Now...it had to be someone around there so I poured over the tumblr archive, and you have ALOT of posts from April. so many. I will admit.... I was too tired to read all of them, but that week in April there was a lot of Cal interactions but there is a post about having sex with Alex on the 11th of April. I remember a "no more sex with alternates" post, but I can't remember when that was, and I can't remember if that was pre of post ever doing anything with Cal. I think it's pre since one of your June posts was about a new notch int he bedpost after going to gluttony with Cal and the self-loathing I think, so that would be too late if that was the first time for the two of them together if I am reading the timeline correctly, which I could have sworn they did stuff earlier, but early summer and spring are a blur to me. I am just basing this off of what posts I can find and who he was talking to during that time, which seemed to be mostly alternates so just gonna run down that path theorizing if it is someone we as an audience knew. I hate the fact I only started really reading everyday only in like mid-Summer. But also...it could be a rando.... I have no idea. I am a dumb bitch who needs to go to bed, but those were the most interactions I saw that week unless I missed a post in my delerium. I probably did. I am going to bed.

(("I have a tumblr search bar, an archive, and insomnia" is such a mood. Now lemme throw a bunch of fresh confounding info into your theorization!

I don't remember when exactly he decided "no more sex with alternates," HOWEVER:

- at the time, he meant "no sex with NEW alternates, but I'll keep sleeping with the ones I've already slept with"

- also he's a dumbass and slept with at least one new alternate even after making that decision.

Buck didn't go to Gluttony with Cal; he went to Gluttony with Germ (the Alastor on stagred). That's the alt he slept with after deciding "no new alts."

Buck & Cal HAVE had sex before—I think Cal is probably Buck's most frequent partner as far as non-NPCs go. The first time they had sex was in January, and it wasn't until July that Buck went "ok no I'm not sleeping with you specifically anymore" because it just kept making them both unhappy because of their respective self-esteem and identity issues.

And to mess things up even more: despite what Buck thinks (because he doesn't know shit about pregnancy, it's never been relevant to him before), how many weeks you are into a pregnancy isn't calculated from the date of conception. It's calculated from the date of the last pre-pregnancy period. This is because it's impossible to tell EXACTLY when sperm hit egg hidden somewhere deep inside a body, but it's a lot easier to keep track of what's the last day u started bleeding on ur undies. So the commonly-referenced 40 week pregnancy length really means "your baby is born around 40 weeks after ur last period," and conception actually happens a couple weeks after that date? Give or take a few days because there's a window where it could occur?

Now, Buck doesn't HAVE periods, so he can't exactly use that to calculate how far along he is or his probable conception date. But since the doctors are trying to retroactively guess how far along he is, that's what the 19 week guess really means. How far back to some hypothetical imaginary period, and conception happens some time after that.

(I actually don't have a good in-universe reason for why demons do it that way, since I headcanon that succubi don't have periods; but I do have a VERY good out-of-universe reason: because all the pregnancy charts & trackers & calendars & checklists use that system and it makes it a hell of a lot easier for me to keep track of symptoms if I don't have to remember to add/subtract a couple weeks for demons. So for the sake of convenience we're using the human pregnancy calendar!)

And on top of all that, there's no guarantee the doctors' guess is exactly right. If you don't know your last period or when you had the sex that must have produced the baby, gestational age is estimated based on the current size of the baby. (If I recall right, I think that during second trimester they measure the length of the femur?) But the farther you get into a pregnancy, the more a baby's size can vary—it might be a slow/fast grower, or it might be unusually big/small at birth. By the middle of the second trimester, guesses based on fetus size can be off by a week in either direction—sometimes more.

End result: when Buck himself starts trying to find suspects, to be safe he's gonna be casting a WIDE net; and it's going to cover most of April and May.

... And just to confuse things even more, one character who's Definitely On Buck's Suspect List won't even turn up on ur search because we are slow RPers who started the thread during Buck's "might get knocked up" window but uhhh... still haven't actually finished it or gotten around to writing the sex gjlsjfh I'm very sorry for that. I promise that other than that one outlier I'm playing fair with y'all's expectations.))