#rowan is running out of patience

[throneofsapphics]

let our bodies talk

Rowan x Reader x Ruhn

summary: Rowan and Ruhn help you deal with your guilt around sex, and take your virginity

warnings: virgin!reader, raw p in v (wrap it up everyone), religious guilt/shame, light hair pulling

word count: 3426

a/n: based on this request!

“Do you want us?” Ruhn finally asked, running a hand through his hair, the other toying with his lip ring. He pointedly ignored the silver-haired male staring at him like he wanted to chop him into bits and either sell them at the Meat Market or feed them to the creatures at the bottom of the Istros.��

Rowan had more patience and experience with immortality than he did. If you wanted him to wait another hundred years, he would, gladly, but he wanted to know what page you were on and he was ... well, he was used to having rather forward partners, he supposed. 

It started with him as an emissary to your world, and ended with this relationship he never could have expected, but would never change for a thing. You were everything he’d ever wanted and more. 

Your mouth parted, skin flushed, and eyes widened slightly. One of his favorite looks on you. “Of course,” the words came out quickly. Adorable. Everything about you was adorable. Cthona, he really was obsessed with you. “We’re together, aren't we?” You gained back a little bit of that attitude he loved. His mouth curved into a smirk. 

“Yes, love, we are.” 

“Ruhn is asking if you want to have sex with us,” Rowan grunted from behind you. You whirled around, not having seen him apparently. He shot you a slightly apologetic look. You were the only one who got those kinds of looks out of him, and it made Ruhn respect you even more. The male would bend over backwards for you. 

“I m- I mean yes, I do, I just ...” you trailed off uncharacteristically. 

Ruhn leaned forward in his chair, forearms bracing his thighs, Rowan rounded the couch to sit next to you, leaving a careful foot or so between the two of you. This conversation didn’t need touch, not right now at least. Ruhn stayed in his seat. Just talking about this, the idea of it, was making all sorts of unproductive changes to his blood flow. 

-

You sighed, glancing between the two of them. You wouldn’t get out of this conversation right now, at least not without them getting an acceptable answer. How do you even begin to explain your relationship with sex? When it's so complicated you barely feel like you understand it yourself? 

“Just listen to me, please,” you half pleaded, half ordered. They glanced at each other before turning to you and nodding. “I grew up with a lot of ... shame surrounding sex,” you could tell Ruhn was ready to interrupt and say fuck that, but Rowan fixed him with a look and although the male glared back he kept his mouth shut. Another time you might have laughed. “So as much as I fucking crave both of you, those thoughts are still trained into me. That its dirty, bad, against the gods wishes.” 

Rowan pressed his lips together at the last one, you knew it was ridiculous too - some of the gods were notoriously horny, after all. 

“So I'm a little ... behind because I avoided everything for so long.” 

“Are you a virgin?” Rowan asked, tone carefully neutral. If they cared either way ... well, then they wouldn’t be the males for you. 

“Yes,” you lifted your chin just a tad higher, trying to imbue yourself with some sort of confidence. 

“That’s not a problem for me,” Ruhn said, almost soothingly. 

“It shouldn’t be,” Rowan sent a warning look your way at the snip in your tone, and you glared right back at him. He held both hands up placatingly, almost in a ‘not policing you, I'm just trying to keep the peace,’ way. 

Ruhn caught your gaze, and you both burst into laughter, eyes lighting with mirth. Rowan snorted. Basically a roaring laugh coming from him. 

“Come here,” the unintentional dominance in Rowan’s voice bent your knees before you could think better of it. Not that you wanted to, not really. He patted the area next to him, giving you the option to close the distance. You did. 

You felt more than heard Ruhn move, as the couch dipped on your other side. You liked it here, pressed between them, your legs lining up from thigh to hip, just a few layers between your skin and theirs. The desire to remove the layers was there, but that old guilt crept in and tainted it. Your hand brushed the back of your neck, head tilting down, eyes trained on the floor. 

Ruhn caught your hand, bringing it down to rest on his thigh. You flexed your fingers, exploring the feel of the corded muscle beneath those jeans. His leg tensed, keeping hand settling over yours, keeping you still. 

“However long it takes,” he kissed the exposed side of your neck, “I'll teach you to not be ashamed of what your body wants.” 

“Of what you want,” Rowan added, running his thumb over your knee, his hand cupping your leg. 

“I want both of you,” you said the words quickly, as if they might never come out if you didn’t say them as fast as possible. 

“You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that,” Rowan’s eyes trailed you from head to toe, taking in every inch of your body. A hunger that you either hadn’t seen or noticed before flared. Tightness coiled in your stomach, you could arouse those kinds of feelings in them. You found you liked that power. 

“Relax, Rowan,” Ruhn drawled. The other male tensed. You smiled. “I think we can ask some questions, can’t we?” 

A muscle in Rowan’s jaw flexed, but he gave a short nod. 

Sometimes you wondered if you were the glue bonding them together, but they had a bond of their own outside of the one the three of you shared. Not sexual, but almost ... you couldn’t quite find a term to describe it. Maybe you’d invent one later. For now, they were capturing all of your attention. Questions. You knew what kind of questions they’d ask, but it didn’t leave you feeling any more prepared for it. 

“Has anyone touched this beautiful body before?” Ruhn breathed against your neck, his hand running down your thigh indolently. 

“You,” you said, a touch of something like defiance in your tone. One of them pinched your thighs lightly. Rowan. 

“It doesn’t work if you don’t answer our questions, love,” he said. 

“Not very well,” you sighed, throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling. Why did this have to feel so ... 

“These conversations aren’t meant to be smooth,” Ruhn reminded you. It gave you a bit of much-needed courage and you gave yourself a reminder. You loved these males, trusted them, and knew they’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you or make you feel upset. In fact, they’d usually do their best to make sure the opposite happened. 

“Did you like anything about their touch?” Rowan’s large hand covered part of your thigh, tips of his fingers digging in light enough to add a pleasurable pressure but avoid that edge of pain. Regardless, each of their touches felt like fire in your current wound up state and you doubted anything could douse it right now. 

“When it was over,” you said, honestly, and drew a laugh from each of them. 

“I promise you won’t want this to end,” Ruhn said. Tilting your head, blue eyes peered intently at you, full of heat and passion and desire. “I think we can figure out how to ask these questions without speaking,” he brushed the top of your thigh, playing with your hemline, “hm?” 

You arched towards him, hands reached out to grasp at his arms, tugging him closer, closer, closer, however you could get any contact with him. Something about his tone and words awoke a new desperation in you. The time for talking, for thinking, was over. 

Ruhn caught your hands. You frowned. He switched them to one of his and used the other to tilt your chin up. “If you want this to stop at any time, just say the word. Or tap a few times if you can’t speak.” 

“We won’t be angry or upset,” Rowan added. 

“If you were, I'd kick your asses. Before leaving them,” you grumbled.

Ruhn held his hands up. “I’m terrified,” he deadpanned. 

The pause gave space for ugly emotions to rear and infiltrate, invading your headspace. 

You heard the words of the priests and priestesses from your childhood, of your mother and father wondering what the hell you were doing before damning and cursing you. Doubt had no place in this room, but it found its way inside anyway. 

“I don’t think she wants this,” you heard Ruhn say, and your head snapped up. 

-

Ruhn hoped his gamble paid off and Rowan played along, that they could draw out your competitive side. 

Green eyes narrowed, but he said, “I’m afraid you may be right.” Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t afraid of a damn thing, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Yes I do,” you spluttered indignantly. That was the point.

“Show us,” Rowan challenged you. 

“I don’t know how,” your voice dropped to a furious whisper, and he wondered if you might call everything off. 

“Ask for help,” Rowan countered. 

“I thought we would do this without speaking,” Ruhn interjected. 

In unison, both you and Rowan replied, “that’s what you said,” and he bit back a grin. 

“One question then,” Rowan continued, “do you want us to fuck you tonight?” 

“Yes,” there was no hesitation, in fact eagerness in your tone. Bringing out your competitive side did work, and he noted that for later. 

“We’ll be gentle,” Rowan told you. 

You huffed. Ruhn titled his head, Rowan raised a brow at you. 

“I want you, not some watered down version of you - both of you.” 

“As you wish, my love,” Rowan murmured. 

“Your funeral,” Ruhn joked. 

“But I have one rule,” he sat up a little straighter at your words. 

“What is that?” 

“No magic,” you glanced between both males. “I just want you. Both of you.” 

-

“Very well,” Rowan acquiesced, not sounding too put out. “Come here,” he patted his thighs. After checking for Ruhn’s agreement to your ‘rule,’ you did. 

This part, this first step, you knew how to do. You’d kissed both of them before. Straddling him, you balanced yourself on the middle of his thighs. His fingers trailed up and down your sides, front, back, everywhere he could reach, brushing sensitive areas over your clothing. Brushing too lightly for how drastically your body seemed to react. Or maybe that was the point, less is more. 

‘Let go, stop thinking,’ you reminded and reprimanded yourself. 

It took you a minute or two to realize Rowan was waiting for something. For you to initiate. 

Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his, mimicking the featherlight touches he was leaving on your body. Rowan wasn’t having it, and gripped the back of your head, winding his fingers through your hair before bringing you together. 

He stood, mouth still on yours, and you tightened your legs around his waist, locking your ankles, he wrapped one arm around your lower back, and snapped at Ruhn with his spare hand. 

The other male, understandably, snarled in return and you broke away from Rowan to hide your giggles into his shoulder. 

It broke the tension, and after a few strides from Rowan you were bouncing back on your bed, thrown there by him. Catching yourself against the headboard, it was your turn to glare. 

“That’s what you get for laughing,” Ruhn shrugged out of his shirt, and fuck your mouth watered. “My eyes are up here,” he teased you. 

“I thought we weren’t talking,” you snapped back. 

Not Ruhn, you could see all of him, but you felt another hand on the back of your neck. Rowan. Lips brushed against your ear, “I should just bend you over our bed and fuck you, but I think we can make it a little more enjoyable than that.” 

That sounded very enjoyable to you, and maybe scared you just a tad but not in an unpleasant way. Involuntarily, your thighs clenched. Ruhn’s chuckle told you he noticed. Heat seared your cheeks, the back of your neck, your chest. 

Half-naked, he climbed on the bed after you. Rowan stood next to the footboard, seemingly content to watch just for the moment. 

They seemed too coordinated and organized, in your opinion, and alarm bells flared in your mind and you scrambled with your hands to sit up. 

“Are you speaking to him?” You couldn’t fight the hint of accusation in your tone as you asked Ruhn.

“We’re making this enjoyable,” he pushed down lightly on your shoulders, “let us.” 

“Let go, love,” Rowan encouraged. 

You pursed your lips together in a frown, but nodded. You could let go, for tonight. Letting your hands slide out, your back hit the soft duvet cover again, the fabric silky against your skin. Relax. You were entirely capable of letting go. 

Ruhn’s lips hit your shoulder first, a soft and gentle kiss, before trailing down over your chest. The longer he went on, the firmer, you wouldn’t exactly call it rough, he got. Each touch grew more intense, his hands on your ribcage, pushing you down into the mattress as his lip ring flicked over your nipple. Teeth lightly grabbing the now swollen peak, tugging it up, drawing a gasp, before releasing. Testing how each part of your body reacted to different pressures and sensations. Learning you. 

He was good at this, you realized, with a hint of jealousy you quickly tamped down. Here and now, you reminded yourself. Focus. Capable. 

Lost in his touch, you didn’t notice the other male sliding in behind you until you were rising, your back pressed against his chest. Ruhn made a noise of discontent, like a kid with his candy taken away from him. 

“Ruhn’s going to fuck you first,” Rowan murmured in your ear, stroking down the side of your arm. “And when he’s done, I'll get to fuck that pretty little pussy, how does that sound?” 

“Great,” you barely managed to say. 

Then he was gone, out from behind you, and you were lowered onto the duvet again, head propped up on a pillow, Ruhn’s head between your - fuck. You lost all train of thought, all capability of thought as his tongue flicked your clit. Your voice left you as his lip ring, that beautiful thing, slid across your clit, a finger slipping inside and curling, putting just the right amount of pressure - and throwing you over the edge. 

Ruhn slowly worked you through your orgasm, adding another finger and twisting. You winced slightly at the stretching sensation. He stopped. 

“Just a little,” you panted, “uncomfortable. Keep going.” At the uncertain look on his face you added a, “please,” and that did the trick. 

He kept watching you intently, looking for every little change that might tell him something is wrong. But ... you didn’t feel the need to put on a performance. Instead, you found you liked the intensity he looked at you with. It made you feel wanted and desired in ways you never had before. It was bringing you to new highs. With another scream, your body melted into the mattress, legs falling limply to your sides. 

“I think she’s ready,” you heard Rowan. You nodded your agreement. Just a taste and you’d grown greedy, wanting more, more, more. All they would give you, all you could take. 

A belt clicked, clothes rustled, and you sat up on your elbows, impressed that even with the slight shake in your arms you could still hold yourself up. Maybe it was sheer determination to see Ruhn getting undressed that did it. It was certainly worth it. 

Licking your lips subconsciously at the sight of him, you realized he was pretty everywhere, including his cock. Near the same color as his skin, but with a glistening pink tip and a bulging vein running down the side, you wanted him in you. Now. 

“Get over here,” you breathed. 

“Bossy,” he said, raising his brows, but didn’t fucking move. 

Pressing your lips together, you saw a few avenues in front of you, and picked the one you figured would light a fire under him the best. 

“I guess I have to do it myself,” you sighed and let one arm slide out, snaking its way towards your center. 

It didn’t make it, not as Ruhn was there, catching your hand. “Not this time, princess.” 

His hand splayed against the backs of your thighs, pressing them up and to the sides as he knelt between your legs. 

“Breathe,” he ordered, and you’re glad you listened as he first pushed past your walls. Sharp pain hit your abdomen, catching your breath in your throat. 

An icy wind found its way down your throat, and you decided you’d thank Rowan, mentally, now and yell, verbally, at him later. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Keep going,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You might’ve had a lot of ... conflicting feelings surrounding sex, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t educated yourself. All the bodice rippers told you that the pleasure would kick in soon, that before you knew it you’d be overwhelmed by the “feel good” hormones. Gods you hoped they were real. 

He moved, but slowly. Lifting your hips to switch the angle, you gasped as he hit somewhere deep inside of you. That felt good. 

“That’s the spot, then,” he murmured, more to himself. 

“Fuck you feel good,” you moaned, nails clawing at his shoulders, searching for some kind of grip or anything to hold on to. He chuckled and lowered himself just enough you could grab them, before his hands spread against your sides, gripping you firmly. 

“Remember what you said earlier,” he paused inside of you. You wanted to scream at him. Instead you were left looking at his dumbly, eyes blinking. “About not wanting a watered down version of us. You’re still sure?” 

“Yes I’m sure, just fuck me or I'll-”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your words as he moved again, tilting your hips to that perfect angle before driving into you, over and over again. 

Not quite rough, but certainly not gentle, whatever he was doing was absolutely perfect, and as his fingers found your clit, you had your third - or was it fourth? - orgasm of the night. 

You actually whined as he pulled out, his eyes still open and fixed on you. He hadn’t finished. A pout started forming. 

As if he read the words in your eyes, he said, “someone else has been waiting for their turn, I’m sharing you tonight princess,” and jerked his head to the side. You followed the motion, and Rowan stood there, looking at you with pure hunger in his eyes. 

You swallowed. Louder than you intended to. Ruhn moved off you. 

“On your knees,” Rowan said roughly, but didn’t give you a chance before he gripped your hips and flipped you. Squeaking, your hands scrambled and slid before you landed on your elbows. His hand twisted around your hair, not pulling but gripping and tilting your head to look at him. “I still want to see your face, but it’ll be easier for you this way.” 

Easier? Just then, you realized you hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but based on how Ruhn went first you could put together a few things. 

“Alright,” you breathed. 

There was no hesitation from either side as Rowan slid in you, your body both welcoming and protesting him, your hips and thighs already beginning to ache, but you wanted more. A greedy little monster had begun to bloom in you. 

Both of them just felt right, in different ways, and you - 

“Eyes on me,” Rowan snapped. Your eyes flew to him, and his mouth indented at one corner in the way the stoic smile. “I said I wanted to see your face, love.” 

His hands gripped your hips. 

“See your pretty little face as you take my cock so well.” 

The words drew a moan from you, sending pleasure from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes, making you push yourself back on him. Green stared at you, unrelenting as each slow, hard thrust nearly bounced you off him 

“Look how perfectly you’ve opened up for me,” he sounded almost teasing, “just like you were made for me.” 

Maybe you were, made for both of them as they were for you. 

-

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[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Previous (Chapter 3) // Next (Chapter 5) (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, panic attacks, implied prior noncon, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Rowan was relieved to see that the boy was capable of cleaning himself up. The shower had only run for a matter of minutes, but as Rowan lingered outside the bathroom to eavesdrop – just in case he was needed - he heard the tell-tale clicks of the shampoo bottle opening and closing. Water splashed rhythmically against freshly cleaned tiles in a hum that was barely muffled by the door. Rowan waited a few painstaking minutes after the water had turned off, seizing the opportunity to practice his patience, before he knocked and reentered.

Although it was a deeply unsettling sight to see the young man kneeling naked in his bathroom, Rowan could already see that the boy’s skin was cleaner, and his wet curls still seemed lighter than when they had been coated with grease, sweat, and blood.

The shower also made clear that some of the yellow patches on the boy’s skin were not dirt, as Rowan had foolishly hoped, but near-healed bruises. Some wounds that had been scabbed over before the shower were open now, glistening red with nascent blood as the skin tried to stitch itself back together. Bright white scars danced with blue bruising, and a single drop of crimson trailed down from a recently reopened leg wound. It seemed that the boy had interpreted the instruction to clean himself up as an instruction to rub his scabs away, scrubbing at his skin until his injuries were raw.

Rowan made a note to himself to speak more clearly in the future. The next thing Rowan noticed was that the mirror was bone-dry, no signs of steam or beading water at the top of the glass. No hints of humidity hung in the air either. He felt his lip turn down in spite of himself.

“You can use hot water next time, yeah?” He offered as hopefully as he could, though his gaze was not returned. “Seriously, you can use the hot water, as hot as you can stand it. This place is great, because I only pay a flat fee for utilities. No extra charge for those long, hot showers. Feel free to sit in the hot water as long as you want. I mean, I certainly do. Anyway, you’re looking a bit cleaner now, so maybe you want to try on some of those clothes? You’ve got to be freezing after that shower. Come on, follow me back to your room.”

And the boy followed, damp hands and knees finding purchase on vinyl tiles, an unfamiliar rhythm across the condo’s floors. Rowan winced again, making sure to hide his disappointment by looking towards the ceiling. They’d have to do something about the crawling, get him back on his feet and walking with confidence. They’d also have to get him eating and drinking on his own, comfortable enough to take showers in hot water, wearing clothes by default, acting of his own will and guided by his own desires…

Rowan bit back a sigh. There was a lot to work on.

They made it back across the hall, and Rowan walked over to the file cabinet that was currently doubling as the boy’s dresser. He slid the bottom drawer open as the steady shuffle-crawl followed in behind him. Rowan’s fingers thumbed through the sweaters that he’d hastily folded just hours earlier, one after the other, a stack of cotton and polyester and sherpa promising warmth. There was a sweatshirt he remembered specifically from his clothing haul, something lined with fleece, certainly thick enough to restore a bit of warmth after a cold shower. Hands still digging through the drawer, Rowan defaulted to his rambling once again.  

“I know I set out sweatpants and a sweatshirt earlier, but there might be a warmer sweater in here. I’m going to guess you’re cold, so let’s see if-“ and as Rowan turned to look back at his guest, just to see if he was listening, his heart dropped through his stomach.

There, on the bed, the young man was presenting himself with raised hips and a carefully arched back, eyes looking up through thick eyelashes to meet Rowan’s own-

“Fuck.” Rowan gasped, and he took a step back so fast that his shoulder slammed into the filing cabinet. His hand snapped up to shield his eyes while his voice bubbled up from his chest, words coming out as an inadvertent shout. “No! Jesus Christ, no! No. Stop doing- stop doing that. Fuck, get down from there, just get down. No, we’re not doing that. I’m not going to- we’re not- just- fuck-“

Before Rowan could speak another word, the young man bolted off the bed and down to the floor, throwing himself flat against the ground so hard that the nearby furniture trembled. The sound of his bony knees hitting the ground resounded like two gunshots. In the blink of an eye, Rowan’s outburst had caused the emaciated victim to expose his scar-riddled back to the sky.

It was clear that he was waiting for Rowan to rain blows down on his skin, whether with fists or with whips, another line written in the book of abuse written for all to see. He trembled, but he was silent, utterly silent. This was routine, a punishment he’d been subjected to before. It was something the boy expected, that he waited for, that was the natural consequence to someone raising their voice.

All because Rowan had been a bit uncomfortable, and all because he couldn’t keep that discomfort to himself. He’d been given a sliver of power, a shred of influence, and he’d already resorted to screaming.

Guilt washed over Rowan just as coldly as shock had moments earlier. The sight of the boy offering himself up for punishment, moments after he’d offered himself up for use, jolted Rowan’s consciousness back into his body. He’d yelled, one of the very few thingshe wasn’t supposed to do, and had undoubtedly terrified his guest in the process. The boy’s hands were trembling where they rested, palms up, in front of him. Short gasps came from his mouth, just soft enough that they weren’t quite whimpers, but Rowan could hear the tears he was swallowing back nonetheless.

Rowan pulled in a deep breath, surprised to find that his own eyes were stinging with emotion and moisture. This was all too much. He knew what the victims endured in their abuse, he knew that he had brought a Romantic into his home, he knew all of this from when he signed the papers and looked through the PLF rehabilitation materials. But it was one thing to read the words on a page, and it was another thing to have a battered young man on his bed offering himself up for abuse.

It was the closest Rowan had come, now by himself and in his very own home, to seeing just what he’d been fighting to have dismantled all these years. It was the closest he’d been to direct complicity, to participating in the cruelty of man. It was the closest he’d been to hell on earth.

I can fix this, Rowan thought to himself, forcing another deep breath into his lungs. I have to fix this. I can smooth this over, make it better. This is what I signed up for, this is what I’m here to fix, this is what I have to deal with. I fucked up, so I have to fix it.

What better way to start than with an apology?

“I’m sorry,” Rowan hissed through his teeth as he fought to control his volume. He wasn’t going to yell again, no matter how hot the adrenaline felt in his veins. “I shouldn’t have yelled, and you’re not in trouble. You’re not in trouble, I promise, it’s all okay. You’re okay. You’re alright. Everything’s alright.” Rowan’s heart was pounding so heavily in his chest that it was hard to swallow his volume back. His head felt heavy and his hands tingled with the panic seizing his nervous system.

Yet Rowan knew that he was not the most terrified person in the room. No matter how scared he was at the seemingly impossible challenges ahead, and no matter how worried he was that he’d already ruined everything, the boy was infinitely more afraid. If his first instinct after a shower was to offer his body up for sexual abuse, and if his first instinct after a shout was to offer that body for physical abuse, there was little question as to what horrors he’d endured before this point. He hadn’t even been in Rowan’s home for more than an hour, and he had resigned himself to the service of a stranger who owned his body, who held a title to his very life. There was no sign of the defiance, or disobedience, or even displeasure. It was fluid, seamless, undeniable recognition of ownership.

The boy hadn’t moved despite Rowan’s attempted placations. A perfect pet, entirely obedient, unmoved by gentleness. This was everything WRU wanted in its output, in its products. Simultaneously, it was everything that made Rowan sick to his stomach.

After a painstaking deep breath, Rowan grabbed the clothes he wanted from the file cabinet, and took a step towards the body trembling on the floor. He kept his steps slow, movements as glacial as he could muster, hoping that the boy wouldn’t expect a blow.

“Hey, I’m coming over now, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not even going to touch you. Just-“

The boy flinched nonetheless as Rowan lowered the clothes to the floor beside his outstretched palms.

“Here,” Rowan offered, voice as soft and level as he could manage, “these are for you. To get dressed. Please, get dressed. I’m going to leave you alone now, okay? Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be back later to check in. I think we both need… a minute, yeah? A minute to take a breather. Both of us. You’re not in trouble. Just, get dressed please.”

Rowan left as quickly as he could manage, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

---

The pet could hardly choke back its tears. What had it done wrong? Had it erred by not offering to please Master first, settled square on its knees, eyes pointed upwards and an eager, open mouth? Had it not cleaned itself well enough, hair still damp from the shower, some wounds still raw and dripping blood? Had it not seen something obvious in this room that it should have found for Master’s use instead?

But the punishment it expected for its insolence and incorrect assumptions never came. Even though it had exposed its hands and its back, opening its skin for lashes or stomping boots, no such corrections came. It hadn’t been able to make out the precise words that Master had shouted, his precise displeasure lost to the ringing in the pet’s ears, but it knew anger from the tone alone. It always knew when its master was angry.

Anger, yet no correction. Shouting, but no punishment. Nothing but a bundle of clothes dropped on the ground beside it, a clear indication that it was supposed to get dressed.

And with that, Master left, closing the door behind him. The pet was left alone to cover its shameful body and await its uncertain future.

---

Rowan wasted no time in grabbing the now-wrinkled PLF Rehabilitation Manual from where he’d placed it on top of the fridge. He knew that if he didn’t separate it from the rest of the paperwork strewn across the kitchen counters, he’d certainly lose it amidst the chaos. On top of the fridge, placed alongside the boxes of now-stale cereal, was as safe a place as any.

He leaned the small of his back against the countertop and busied himself with thumbing through the pages. His eyes flicked quickly over the table of contents, then through the section headers in the body of the document. When he read the manual earlier, he swore he’d seen a few pages dedicated to fixing a fuck-up. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? It was a fuck up of fantastic proportions. Rowan hadn’t even made it two hours before he’d yelled at the abuse victim in his second bedroom, all but screamed at him, just for doing what he’d been so thoroughly trained to do.

He was the picture of a perfect pet, and Rowan had managed to get mad at that. In the boy’s mind, he’d done exactly as he was trained, and it still hadn’t been enough for Rowan. That was going to forever be his first impression of Rowan.

Some people are just more suited for fieldwork, the voice of his past mentor echoed in his ears. Rehabilitation and recovery isn’t for everyone. Just like Greyson has found his stride working on the administrative side of the PLF, you’re doing your best work out in the field. Rehabilitation is an entirely different skillset, a skillset that some people don’t excel in, and that’s fine. Everyone’s job is important here. Your job is important even if you don’t work directly with the victims, I promise.

And yet, despite years of being aware that he was most certainly not suited for rehabilitation work, he’d taken up this cross on little more than impulse. The only one who would pay for Rowan’s ignorance and impatience was the very person who needed him the most.

For the second time since he’d purchased the boy he felt his eyes sting. The weight of this new responsibility weighed on his shoulders now more than ever. There was so much that could go wrong, so much pain and misery he could unknowingly inflict. This time it was his own uncontrollable shock, something he should have been able to swallow back. What would it be next time? His impatience? His ignorance?

Rowan swallowed back the lump in his throat as he finally found the dog-eared page he’d been looking for. He’d dog-eared it, of course, because he’d been afraid he’d have to use it.

You Lost Your Temper – Now What?

In a perfect world, we’d never lose our temper when assisting the wards in our care. Much like we might lose our temper with friends, family, or colleagues, we might likewise lose our temper with our wards.

These moments, while less than ideal, present a learning opportunity for all parties involved. For you, the guardian, it is an opportunity to model sincere apologies and create a safe space for your ward to talk about how they feel. For your ward, it is an opportunity to learn that they deserve politeness and equal treatment from others. For both guardian and ward, it is the chance to discuss communication, expectations, and mutual respect.

Should you lose your temper with a ward in your care, take the time to collect yourself and your emotions. You might be feeling upset, disappointed, or even angry with yourself. You might even be upset with your ward for the actions that triggered the incident, even if you know those actions aren’t their fault. You might be upset with a ward who tested your boundaries, or exercised their freedom and autonomy, in a way that you aren’t comfortable with. These are normal and expected feelings. While it is healthy to process these emotions and acknowledge their impact on you, it is best to do them away from your ward early in the relationship, and in front of your ward later in the relationship. Both are opportunities to model behavioral processing in a healthy and focused way.

Once you have gathered yourself and recognized your own emotions, take some time to think about what caused that first negative feeling. Recognize the moment you lost your temper, recognize what triggered that initial negative emotion, and consider creating a plan to prevent a similar reaction in the future. Take as much time as needed for this process, and ideally, try to give your ward an adequate amount of time to process the event as well.

Finally, talk to your ward directly. Make an appropriate apology for your reaction. For example, if you yelled, apologize for raising your voice. Take the opportunity to remind your ward that they should be treated with kindness and respect at all times, and acknowledge that you did not fulfill that basic expectation. You do not need to share the reason for your reaction – in fact, doing so can cause unnecessary fear and guilt in your ward, particularly early in the recovery process, and even more so if the triggering behavior was due to their trauma or conditioning. Instead, offer them comfort and an opportunity to discuss how the event made them feel.

The rest of the page was filled with sample conversations, language for new rehabilitators to use in such situations. Rowan studied them carefully, feeling himself grow calmer as he did so. He wasn’t the first rehabilitator to fuck up, and from the looks of the manual, he certainly wouldn’t be the last. While this did little to alleviate the guilt, it allowed for a small sliver of relief. There wasn’t anything uniquely wrong with him. Instead, his response was one rooted in human emotion, another byproduct of the system and its cruelty. His disgust was with systemic oppression, not with the boy himself.

I have to do better, Rowan reminded himself, and he took yet another deep breath. His hands were still shaking from the adrenaline that had dumped into his system.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how the boy was affected if he himself was feeling the effects of his own temper so severely.

That was the next thought in his mind. He couldn’t simply refer to his guest as the boy forever. Part of developing autonomy, including the autonomy necessary to process scenarios such as the one that Rowan had just created, came from a sense of independent identity. Right now, the boy was just that: the boy in Rowan’s spare room, an object, a legal possession. To recover, he would have to become so much more than that. The manual had said as much: giving the ward a name as soon as possible was critical to developing a relationship of equals.

That would all have to come later, and it would hopefully come from the help of a rehabilitator that Rowan prayed was on the way his condo. Hope was doing a lot of heavy lifting as Rowan sat and stewed at his kitchen counter. He took a moment to check his phone, then he checked a second time to confirm there were no new messages, before placing it back on the granite.

His heart was still racing, so he looked back to the manual with a glance, then over to the closed door of the den, then back to the manual. If either of them were going to make it out of this intact, the least Rowan could do was take the manual’s word as gospel.

What emotion am I feeling? It burned hot, Rowan knew that much, and it had spurred him to yell when he rarely ever did so. Is it anger?

But instead of a tightness in his throat and a burning in his head that he would expect from anger, Rowan felt a tingling in his fingertips, a tugging in his chest, a queasiness in his stomach. It was like he was in grade school all over again, waiting for a teacher to pass out a test he hasn’t studied for. It was that heavy, burdensome dread that clung to him every time he walked onto the liquidation event sales floor.

Rowan knew he could name the feelings as soon as he took note of their home in his body. It was one that he was loathe to admit, even as old as he was, because of the stigma of weakness that clung to those words. No matter how many times he had conquered these feelings in the past, he struggled to confront them now.

But he had to. He had to, for the sake of the person in his care, the very soul that was counting on him to move past the discomfort. Rowan would have to now, and he would have to again, for the both of them.

What am I feeling? He asked himself again, biting down on his lip in spite of himself. Coppery blood washed over his tongue from the open wound. What am I really feeling?

Anxiety. Fear, dread, distress.

Those feelings were so much more than mere anger, and they were budding like a nascent ulcer in his stomach. Those were the feelings that had governed his actions since he’d signed the contract just over 24 hours prior. Adrenaline had made him run like prey, a panicked creature hunted by an unseen predator. Rowan was a gazelle on an endless savannah, running for his life, uncaring of his destination so long as it put distance between himself and the lion on his tail.

In Rowan’s case, the lion was the system itself, the weight of an industry that would crush him if it knew what he was doing. It was ruthless, it was nefarious, and it would readily kill him if it knew of his efforts to liberate people from its clutches. If so, he wouldn’t be the first liberationist to go missing under similar circumstances.

Of course Rowan was frightened, and of course he had every reason to be. There was legislation, there was law, there was unspeakable amounts of money and power that he was up against. The PLF had always been at a systemic disadvantage in this fight, as had all of its victims, all of its wards. They were fighting on the side of the underdogs, and they would be underdogs until a significant change in the public consciousness occurred.

I’m smarter than a gazelle, Rowan thought to himself, fist tight in his lap. And the lion’s only teeth are rich politicians with a vested interest in oppression. I’m not their fuckinggazelle. I’m braver, I’m smarter, and I’m stronger. I have to be. I refuse to be their prey.  

A few more moments of steady breathing were necessary for Rowan to compose himself. And just as the manual had mandated, he’d named his emotions, processed them, and acknowledged their trigger: a victim, a ward who could not consent, offering their body for sexual and physical abuse.

Another minute passed, and much to Rowan’s pleasant surprise, his breathing had levelled. The buzzing in his extremities had relaxed, and his heart no longer felt like it was being squeezed in an unforgiving fist.

The next step was to confront his ward, the boy still waiting and terrified in the spare bedroom.

“I can do this,” Rowan muttered under his breath, the soft escape of his internal dialogue. “I can apologize, I can name my feelings, and I can offer reassurance.”  

He paused and searched his thoughts for something to bridge the gap. What had the boy responded to the best in these last few hours?

After a moment of mulling, Rowan realized that it had been the water. The boy had grasped the glass as if it offered his only salvation. He’d swallowed it in the blink of an eye, disappearing before Rowan could have even come up with the words to stop him.

Of course, as Rowan knew from more than a decade of field work, the victims that were prepared for transit were both starved and dehydrated to reduce any potential resistance during transit or during their first few hours with their purchasers.

Such practices resulted in a non-zero number of transit deaths each year, some of which Rowan had documented firsthand.

Rowan went over to the pantry and took out another glass, paced over to the fridge, and poured another glass of cool water from the filter. He filled it just below the brim, tall enough that the boy would be able to drink his fill, but not so full that shaking hands would be unable to raise it to equally unsteady lips.

Glass in hand, Rowan walked back over to the second bedroom’s door.

He paused. A moment, a deep breath, a hand raised towards the faux-wood painted in landlord-eggshell. And he knocked, once, twice, knuckles on the paint making a hollow thunk with each hit.

No response was expected. None came. After another two long seconds, Rowan grasped the doorknob and pushed into the room.

---

The pet had gotten dressed. It had dressed itself in the clothes that Master had tossed beside it after he had yelled, the command obvious enough even without it understanding the precise language.

It knew it had messed up. It knew that something it had done – perhaps it was the position? Perhaps it was the assumption that it would be taken on the bed? – had made its master furious. It had made its master so furious that he had thrown clothes at it, commanded it to cover itself, and left it alone.

So the pet had obeyed as best as it could. It clothed itself in the linens – softer than it had ever been granted with its old master, and so much warmer too – and resumed its position kneeling in the center of the room. Master had placed it here for a reason, certainly, alone with nothing but its thoughts and the ringing in its ears.

Fully clad, from its ankles to its wrist, in pillow-like clothing, the pet felt the pull of sleep. Even the fear from its Master yelling was not enough to overcome the exhaustion of its travels and of its last moments with its handlers. It was so tired that it was nodding off where it knelt, knowing full well that such an action would earn it a lashing like no other.

But its body would only be pushed so far before it broke.

Adrenaline returned when the walls and floor trembled with slight vibrations. Ever since the ringing in its ears had begun in earnest, the pet had learned to pay attention to the way the surfaces around it sang. Now, the floorboards rumbled with the sound of its Master approaching. Light steps – none so heavy as its old master – but an insistent knocking that carried through the wood and laminate.

The pet wished it could shrink in on itself, become smaller, offer an adequate with just its body. But it was already as small as it could make itself, swallowed by the billowing fabric of the sweatshirt, sleeves coming down past its wrists and covering its bony knuckles.

There was almost a certain chance that it would be asked to remove the sweatshirt in short order, anyway.

As it expected, Master’s feet appeared before it moments later. It took deep breaths, listening to the steady hum of Master’s voice. He wasn’t shouting, not this time, back to that level-set rhythm that the pet already found so soothing. If there was supposed to be anger or frustration, the pet couldn’t hear it.

That wasn’t saying much, given that it couldn’t hear much at all.

Much to the pet’s surprise, Master leaned down and placed another glass in front of it. This glass was crystal-clear, filled nearly to the brim with water, its surface rippling from the movement. Although it had happily drank the earlier glass of water at its Master’s command, the pet was still parched. And although its stomach was still in knots from how Master had yelled at it, how it had been waiting for a punishment yet to come, the thirst once again prevailed.

It knew better than to grab the glass with its greedy hands. Waiting, patience, showed the very skills that it had been trained time and again to embody. So it waited, waited, until Master’s voice raised with a sharp uptick in volume.

Drink.

The pet did so without hesitation. It reached forward and it drank eagerly, trying to still the trembling of its hands as it did so. Although it had to raise its head to drink, it made sure to keep its eyes pointed downwards in as much respect and deference as it could display.

The water disappeared in a matter of moments, the pet ensuring that it showed its gratitude for the generosity by finishing it with haste. Carefully as it could manage it placed the glass back on the floor where Master had set it.

Its stomach was still tight with worry, filled with the sandwich and the first glass of water, but it was confident that it would keep the meal down. It had to – if it got sick now, there was no telling when it would get food again. This nutrition was more valuable than anything else at the moment, it was the only way it could hope to have the strength to carry on.

---

“That’s great,” Rowan praised, trying to keep his voice steady as he had been. It had already been stressful enough to raise it to give the command to drink, but the boy seemed unfazed. In fact, he finished the full glass in a matter of seconds, drinking eagerly and without hesitation.

Figuring out how to get the boy to drink on his own would be a challenge for another day. For now, even if Rowan had to command as much, drinking something was better than not at all.

Now, for the reason he’d come back into the room in the first place, when all he wanted to do was leave the boy alone long enough to decompress.

“Hey, uhm, I’m sorry for yelling,” Rowan said. The apology came easily and naturally enough, so he pushed on. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. That was wrong of me, and you didn’t deserve it. You did nothing wrong. Really, you did nothing wrong. The fact that I yelled was my fault. I’m not angry at you. I’m not mad, and I’m not going to hurt you. Everything is okay.”

The boy didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t acknowledge a word beyond the command to drink. Just as all the other times Rowan had spoken, he seemed attentive, but didn’t react.

“I mean it,” Rowan pushed on. “I’m sorry. Everything is alright. You’re okay. You’re safe here, with me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to ask you to do those things you had to do before. It caught me off guard, and my reaction was wrong. I shouldn’t have raised my voice”

Nothing. At this rate, it would be impossible to have the back-and-forth dialogue that the manual had encouraged, but Rowan knew that it was possibly asking too much for a first day, even a first week, or a first month. His one-sided apology was a start, at least.

“If you want to tell me how you feel, you can,” Rowan offered the floor up. “It’s okay. You can say how you feel – actually, you can talk, if you’d like, about anything. I haven’t heard you say anything yet, but you’re allowed. You’re allowed to talk as much as you want here. And- and you can get your own water, and your own food- ah. I’m getting ahead of myself, I think. The point I’m trying to make is that it’s okay, and you can talk to me. If I scared you, or upset you, you can tell me that. And if you tell me what’s wrong, I’ll do my best to make it better.”

As Rowan rambled on, self-conscious of the words spilling out of his mouth, he forced himself to look down at the boy kneeling before him. This was no way to talk to a victim like this, was it? Rowan was still towering above him, voice booming downwards, the power imbalance as visual as it was ingrained in the boy’s blood.

So, after another moment, Rowan sat.

He lowered himself to the floor in front of the boy and sat down, crossing his legs like he was a child again. A laugh almost escaped his mouth as he realized how much flexibility he’d lost, knees straining and thighs tugging, as he finally got his ankles close to one another.

The boy perked up immediately, looking through his hanging curls in Rowan’s direction with those bright doe-eyes that Rowan had only seen a glimpse of once so far. Rowan smiled in spite of himself.

“Hey, is this better for you? I think it’s better, at least for right now, if you don’t want to stand up yet. This will let us talk to each other like equals, yeah? We are, you know. Even if you don’t believe it yet. So, I’ll say it again, and maybe you can think about it some more. I’m sorry for yelling at you, and yelling was wrong of me. I never should have raised my voice. I wasn’t mad at you, I was just surprised, because I don’t want to do those sorts of things to you. I’m here to help you, not hurt you, especially not like that. I promise that you’re safe, and no harm is going to come to you here.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. As Rowan spoke the boy’s weight shifted slightly forward, so slight that Rowan almost missed it entirely, and his eyes flitted from his knees towards Rowan’s face. He never quite made eye contact, still hidden behind the curtain of hair, but it was closer than Rowan had been able to achieve from a standing position.

This was what had stood out to Rowan on the sales floor of the liquidation event. The boy seemed distant, but he was far from catatonic like some of the victims that were more difficult to rescue. There was a spark, an attentiveness, a willingness to listen and to obey. It was a flame that yearned for the chance to survive.

Rowan just had to figure out how to nurture that flame and reach through the glass between himself and the boy. They would have to break that barrier down if they were going to move towards healing.

“Yeah, we’re just having a conversation right now, that’s all.” He wasn’t sure how effective his soothing would be so soon after his yelling, but Rowan knew he had to try. “If you want to talk about how you’re feeling, you can do that, talk to me all you want. You can also just tell me to leave if you’d rather be alone right now.”

Nothing, still nothing.

“Can you nod for me if you want to be alone?” He asked, hoping to see some movement. Nothing. “Can you shake your head if you want me to stay?” Nothing again. 

A thought struck Rowan as he saw the boy’s eyes peek up again, still hunting, almost fixated on his lips. He tried again once he saw the boy look upwards.

“Can you nod your head for me?”

And just like that, the boy’s head moved slightly, once up, once down. It was short, but unmistakably the very nod that Rowan’s question had evoked. And once the nod had finished, the boy looked back down at the floor.

“Can you nod again?” He asked once more as soon as he was certain the boy was no longer looking.

No movement.

“Oh my god,” Rowan whispered out loud as realization flashed through him, and he clambered to his feet. He nearly tripped over himself as he did so, staggering to a standing position and darting behind the boy, back over to the far corner of the room, directly behind his ward. The boy was still kneeling, unmoving, his eyes were still pointed towards the door. Importantly, he was unable to see Rowan’s face even if he raised his eyes.  

Rowan snapped his fingers, a few times on his right, a few times on his left. No reaction. Then, after a pause to suppress the oncoming wave of guilt, he clapped his hands together with considerable force. The sound was sharp enough to echo throughout the small room.

This evoked a reaction. It was subtle, but he saw the boy’s shoulders twitch in some sort of anticipation. A fear response, automatic, but a response nonetheless.

“Holy shit,” Rowan muttered to himself, a hand running through his hair almost of its own accord. His epiphany was looking more and more like a plausible possibility.

“Hey, turn around,” he instructed. He made sure not to raise his voice, keeping it as neutral as possible, but still issuing the command with certainty. Again, no movement. He tried again, same tone, conversational volume. “Turn around, right now. Turn around and look at me.”

Nothing.

After a deep breath, and a final reminder that he was doing this for the boy’s own good, Rowan shouted.

“Turn around!”

And just like that the boy moved, turning on his knees in a swift, fluid motion. A blink later and he was kneeling in that same position, but this time pointed towards where Rowan stood at the back of the room.

A nervous chuckle slipped out before Rowan could swallow it. All of that pain, all of that suffering, the threat of death on the sales floor, it had all been under the guise of disobedience. Rowan was now certain it was anything but.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you’re not disobedient. You just can’t fucking hear me.”

There was a euphoria he couldn’t describe blossoming in his chest. This rescue wasn’t a hopeless mistake that he had made, this victim wasn’t beyond recovery or redemption. He simply couldn’t hear the very words that Rowan was speaking to him, commands or otherwise.

It was Rowan’s turn to drop to his knees, aging bones hitting the wood as he fell a mere foot from where the boy had stationed himself.

“It’s okay!” Rowan all but shouted, the boy’s flinch lost to the excitement. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s all okay.” His voice was as loud as he could make it without screaming.

“You’re safe. You’re safe now. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re home, you’re safe. It’s all going to be okay.”

A/N: Cheers to the rewrite for a chance to make it clear that Rowan's not an idiot, he's just out of his depth. That was one of the driving factors for the rewrite, actually. Sorry for those that hoped there'd be a few more chapters of misunderstanding and obliviousness from our well-meaning caretaker - it's important to me that Rowan is capable and aware of himself in this story, particularly given his role in other liberation efforts. But there will absolutely be other barriers to communication and understanding between the two, I can promise that much!

Taglist:

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

@dokidokisadness @anonfromcanada @starfields08000 @bloodredfountainpen @pumpkin-spice-whump

@maenr @whump-enthousiast @taterswhump @whump-me-harder

[rowandriftwood]

Rowan's 2024 Tea Wrapped ☕️🫖

Oh hey it's that time again! How much tea did I drink in 2024? I'm so glad you asked!

Overall, I drank 568 cups of 87 different varieties of tea last year, which is approximately 3.75 lbs of loose-leaf tea!

I drank 404 cups of black tea, 47 cups of green tea, 20 cups of white tea, and 97 cups of herbal tea.

My top 10 teas accounted for about 38% of my total tea consumption for the year.

Rowan's Top 10 Teas of 2024:

#1 - Spicy Seattle Chai from Market Spice (24 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black spiced tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 4-5 minutes, add honey and cream to taste. I don't brew this one in the traditional way, because I don't have the patience. This is one of my all-time favorite teas, and a staple of my Autumn/Winter collection. So good. 5/5

#2 - Vanilla with Lavender from Lovejoy's (23 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 3-4 minutes, add honey to taste, good with or without cream. A delightful lightly-floral tea and staple of my year-round collection. 5/5

#2 - Connoisseur Blend from Market Spice (23 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 3-4 minutes, honey and cream optional. To be honest, the reason I drank so much of this one last year is because it was getting older and I wanted to use it up, but it is a good standard black tea that is also good iced in the summer, with or without additional flavors. I have since replaced it with Taylors of Harrogate's Afternoon Darjeeling. 4/5

#4 - Passionfruit from Market Spice (22 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 3-4 minutes, add honey to taste. This was another one I was trying to use up this year because it was getting older. To be honest, it's just average, though it makes a decent iced tea in the summer. I have since replaced it with one from Adagio that has a better flavor. 3/5

#5 - Jasmine from Market Spice (21 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this green tea + 12 oz. 170ºF water, brewed for 2-3 minutes, add honey to taste. As with most of my floral teas, I used to only drink this one in the Spring and Summer, but it has become a staple of my year-round collection. I'm not usually a fan of green teas, but this one is excellent. It is light and pleasant when I don't want something as strong as a black tea. I experimented last summer with trying it iced, but it did not really work for me. 4/5

#6 - Apricot from Market Spice (20 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 3-4 minutes, add honey to taste. This was another one I was trying to use up this year because it was getting older. Much like Market Spice's passionfruit, it's just average. I generally used it to make iced tea in the summer. I am still searching for a really good apricot tea. 3/5

#7 - Cherry Almond from Lovejoy's (18 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 3-4 minutes, add honey and cream to taste. I spent a lot of time last year trying to use up teas and get them out of my collection, didn't I? This one wasn't old; I just wasn't happy with it, and it appears to have been discontinued. I have since replaced it with Adagio's cherry marzipan oolong, which is excellent. 3/5

#8 - Earl Grey Lavender from Adagio (17 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 2-3 minutes, add honey to taste, good with or without cream. I love an Earl Grey, and this one has been a staple of my year-round collection for quite some time. I've run out for now, and am experimenting with other Earl Grey blends, but I am sure I will buy more eventually. 4/5

#9 - Chocolate Raspberry Pu-ehr from the Lolo Sweets Barn (16 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 3-4 minutes, add honey and cream to taste. This one has long been a household favorite and staple of my Autumn/Winter collection, but it has sadly been discontinued. Fortunately, I have managed to find a suitable replacement in Lovejoy's delightful chocolate raspberry tea. 4/5

#10 - Irish Whiskey Cream from Tea & Absinthe (15 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 3-4 minutes, add honey and cream to taste. This is a rising star of my Autumn/Winter collection, and a new household favorite. If you are a fan of Irish Cream liqueurs, you will love this tea. 5/5

#10 - Monk's Earl Grey from Ilomaa Forest Farm (15 cups) - 1 heaping teaspoon of this black tea + 12 oz. boiling water, brewed for 2-3 minutes, add honey to taste, good with or without cream. A twist on the traditional Earl Grey, with added floral and spice flavors. It looks like this one is only available in Canada, so we probably won't be getting more anytime soon, but it is very nice. 4/5

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Au Where I Make Cod Characters Act Like Characters I Simp For From Other Fandoms

Requested: No

Warnings: Blood Drinking, Voyeurism, Ghost has 3 sons (all fully grown and 25+, their names are Payton, Quentin, and Rowan), small bit of ✨spice✨, Dub-Con touching, Reader is called “Wife” and “Woman” in Soap’s part (if you know who Eddie Gluskin is, you know why), torture, tarantula, tarantula crawling on the reader, mentions of gore, blindfolding, abduction

Ghost - Lady Dimitrescu (Re8)

Ghost stares down at you, on your knees before him, shaking in fear while looking entirely out of place on his expensive rugs with your dirty and tattered clothing, covered in filth from the village outside, scratches all over. Looked like you had tumbled with a Lycan or two, he was almost impressed that you had survived such an encounter.

Ghost sighed as he sipped his wine, the rich taste of a maiden’s blood soaking into his tongue, a burst of beautiful flavor on his senses, like fireworks behind his eyes. He looked to you before looking away again, golden eyes narrowed like a snake’s. He was pretty sure you wouldn’t make good wine. But looks could be deceiving, perhaps he should sample you to be sure?

He heard you squeak and his attention snapped back to you, agitation melting away when he saw that one of sons was was currently kissing and sucking along your neck while another was pushing his hand into your pants, the third palming at your chest while nuzzling his face against yours. Surprisingly gentle for his boys, it seemed that they liked you more than the usual manthings.

He sighed again, deciding that maybe he could keep you around, if only to amuse his rowdy boys.

Soap - Eddie Gluskin (Outlast: Whistleblower)

He saw you. He saw you he saw you he saw you. He knows you’re there, hiding from him. You heard him chase you up the stairs, slammed the door in his face, damn near breaking his nose before locking it behind you. He had to break it down, an easy feat but it had given you plenty of time to hide from him. No matter, the room was only so big.

“Come out, Love. You’re hurting my feelings.” He cooed into thin air, hoping to soothe you like you were some sort of wild animal that got trapped in the asylum. “I just want to love you, can’t you see that?”

Something shifted to his right, he jumped towards it, scraping his elbows on the cement only to find it was a kitten darting through the rubble. He clicked his tongue, annoyance beginning to take hold when his patience started to wain.

“Darling, stop running from me! We’re going to miss the ceremony!” He called, standing to his full height again, brushing dirt off of his makeshift vest. “I want to make an honest woman of ya! Marry ya and fill you up with my bairn.”

Another shift, this time inside a locker. He took care not to focus on it as he checked his pocket for the spare lock he kept for situations just like this.

“You’ll look so pretty, swollen and full of me. And our babes will be so beautiful. I hope they look like you.” He said, trying to make it look like he wasn’t walking towards you, his fingers clenched tight on the lock, stroking the smooth metal. “Maybe with my eyes though. Just a little bit like me so everyone knows who ya belong to.”

The lock clicked in place and he felt your panic in the air before you showed it, but then you were banging on the inside of the locker, chanting a soft “no” again and again like that would get you out of this mess. If he looked close enough he was sure he could see your tears.

“There you are, My Lovely Wife.” He purred happily.

König - Asa Emory (The Collector)

König watched as you squirmed, silent as the grace as you sniffled and sobbed, frightened beyond belief. You’d woken up chained to a ceiling by your wrists, stripped naked save for your panties and the blindfold over your eyes. You couldn’t even remember how you’d gotten here. One moment you were in bed, the next? Here.

And the worst part was that something was crawling on you, sticking to your skin no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, making it’s way up your body. Every step it took with it’s furry legs sent you further into a panic attack. It only amused König as he watched one of his beloved tarantulas walk upon your skin. It made for a lovely picture, he’d have to do this again sometime.

He just couldn’t help himself when he saw you, all wide eyed and scared as he chased you through your house, dead family members and pets all over, slipping in their blood and guts with every turn. He didn’t even know you were home when he started laying his traps. Didn’t even know you existed.

But he was glad you were there. From the second he saw you, he wanted to know what you looked like naked, blood running down your body as he touched you, made you enjoy his touch. He got so excited that he ended up slamming your head into the ground a little too hard when he wants to knock you out. He hoped your brain didn’t suffer too much damage, he wanted you to be able to remember this. Remember your fear.

Maybe he’d paint your pretty face after this, just to watch your tears ruin the makeup, smearing it down your face as he fucked you, all pain and no pleasure. Poor little Fehler. His little Bug.

You shouldn’t have come out of your room.

Alejandro - Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

He could hear you, trying to stifle your sobs as you crawled under barbed wire and through bramble, your sniffles of pain and fear echoing in his ears. It was almost…cute, how you thought you were being quiet. But so sad for you, Little One, he heard you loud and clear.

His hand clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you out of the bushes and into his arms no matter how hard you squirmed and squealed, pushing at him with your cut palms, bits of glass and thorns digging further into your open flesh. He’d need to bandage that for you.

He cooed in your ear, trying to soothe you as his hands patted your face and belly, trying to calm you down as you sobbed. His sweet Nanny, come to watch over him. And he’d watch over you just the same now that he was out of the walls. Once he got you back into the house and tied down onto his bed. Maybe he could calm you down like that, with his tongue between your legs, drawing sweet noises from your lips instead of the fearful ones you were making now.

He lifted his mask up just above his nose, burned nose nudging against yours softly, voice cracking from disuse. “Kiss?” He whispered, watching you shrink in on yourself with frustration. You kissed the doll’s head, but not him?

He sighed, deciding he would have to work on that later as he hauled you over his shoulder, ignoring the pounding on his back as you cried and screamed. No one would hear you. Not ever again. You were his, and nothing would take you away from him.

[crimsonclutches]

MEMORY + outburst !

MEMORIES / no longer accepting / please read tags.

"Your radio broadcast's effects on the local Magikarp have been...less than satisfactory, doctor. We have only documented a single accelerated evolution among the spawn, and it's proven nearly impossible to control," Ariana gazes down at the overworked scientist seated before her desk, her lips pursed in a stern, uncompromising line. The executive's office feels especially tense right now, the stifling air rippling with an ominous current of electricity...and yet, Ariana's voice is so soft.

Dangerously so.

"You and your men claim to have learned much from Professor Rowan's teachings on evolution, but time and time again, you've disappointed us," she murmurs, leaning closer. "And my patience is running out."

Perhaps Rocket's abduction and resulting mistreatment had finally taken its toll...but something snaps within the kidnapped scientist upon hearing his captor's veiled threat. In a moment of foolish, desperate bravery, the agonized mind makes his final mistake. He curses the injustice of this treatment...and spits in Ariana's face.

Time seems to freeze. The Executive stiffens rigidly as the saliva drips down her sharp features, and the scientist recoils backwards, as if just comprehending the graveness of his emotional error. Pointless insolence had no place within these walls. Rebellion against the cause would be punished. Swiftly, and severely.

With a sigh, Ariana reaches into her jacket pocket and gingerly dabs the spittle away with a dark-red silken cloth, her hand trembling ever so slightly with disgust. She pulls open a desk drawer to retrieve a pair of well-used brass knuckles (along with a small, impossibly-sharp knife--a thoughtful gift from Proton) before straightening up, looming over the petrified scientist and smiling coldly as the doomed man tumbles backwards out of his chair in fright.

Thankfully, much of Ariana's latest outburst--filled with the scientist's muffled screams, pitiful begging, and the awful sound of metal impacting flesh and snapping bone--is concealed behind her soundproofed office door. However, when the Executive finally emerges from the gruesome scene, panting slightly but otherwise still poised and perfect, her bloodied jacket slung loosely over her shoulder as she casually radios for cleanup with such practiced ease... (Everything seems so routine.)

...Perhaps that's the most chilling image of all.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 9

Fic masterlist

Look who’s back three days late! Thank y’all for your patience, I promise we’ll get back to our usual schedule this Thursday ❤️

I’m using @autumnbabylon’s prompt, and I’d also like to thank @renxzs for helping me with a few chapter titles (my translation was a huge mess)

Warnings: language, Fenrys (he’s on fire today)

Words: 5,7k (I’m never beating the irregular chapters allegations)

Rowan hovered the spoon with chili sauce over the freshly-cut mangos as he wondered if he should pour it or not. Maybe he could put the sauce in a separate container, in case she reconsiders.

One month and a half being in charge of Aelin’s food wasn’t enough to prepare him for some of her cravings. This morning, she texted him asking for hot chili sauce along with her mango, and an onion.

He was still hoping she requested the onion because Aedion’s house ran out of ingredients.

His phone pinged on the counter.

Aelin: where r u

Aelin: im abt to climb on a tree and pick some rose apples

Snorting, he thought about how she made Aedion do that last week. It was June, which meant the Rose Apple trees spread across their military housing complex were bearing fruit, its smell enticing pregnant women’s senses.

Rowan: I’ll be right there.

One quick look at the clock made him rush the lunch boxes into the huge thermal bags. Every day, he prepped several meals and snacks for Aelin to eat throughout the day. Rowan only let her run out of full lunch boxes once, and her reaction was enough so he’d never let that happen again.

Earlier today, Aelin texted him a very cryptic message telling him to meet her at another address, a short walk from his place. Before leaving his house, Rowan didn’t recognize the pair of fancy sneakers beside Fenrys’ at the front door. At least they were quiet last night. He couldn’t think about that right now, Aelin was waiting for him.

Despite his current unease, the sound of children playing at the playground in front of his house made him smile. It was usual for a Saturday morning, and Rowan never gave much thought to it until he realized one day he’d have a little one squealing there too. The reminder sent a soft smile to his lips, feeling the kind of warmth he knew wasn’t due to Doranelle’s sun burning his skin.

Which led him back to Fenrys. Rowan never minded his friend’s parade of one-night stands, but he couldn’t think of raising a kid in this kind of environment. He noticed Aelin’s car parked in front of a white, bare house. He’d have to figure out this thing about Fenrys later.

The front door was open. Rowan knocked on the door, hovering over the threshold until he heard Aelin’s voice telling him to come in. This house has the same layout as his, but it was completely bare. No lighting, no furniture, just the smell of dust.

He found Aelin in the kitchen. Standing on a ladder, its hinges squeaked while she changed a light bulb. Rowan’s heart almost jumped out of his throat as he rushed her way. Careful enough to not startle her, he picked her up by the hips and placed her on the floor, not caring about her squeal of protest.

Aelin rubbed the area below her belly. “You can’t press over a pregnant woman’s bladder. It’s rude.”

“What the fuck were you doing?” Rowan had both hands on her shoulders, his breathing still fast.

“Changing the light bulb.” Aelin took a step back and opened her arms, grinning. “Welcome to my new house.”

“Huh.” Rowan looked around, taking in… nothing. The house had nothing. “When do you plan to move in?”

“I just did.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “You did not.”

Aelin took him by the hand and started showing her arrangements. “I stole Aedion’s cooler and one old microwave Uncle Orlon had.” She led him to the master bathroom and showed one mattress and a suitcase on the floor. “I’ll sleep here until my furniture arrives next week. I bought it all online.”

Horrified, Rowan slowly shook his head. “You’re not.”

“What?”

“Does Aedion know about this?”

She crossed her arms. “Why’s that important?”

“Aelin…” Rowan looked around, taking all the nothingness of the house in. “You’re not sleeping here. I can’t see one good reason for you to.”

She was glaring at him with a high chin, looking defiant from head to toe. Rowan had been doing everything he could to keep the easy friendship they built in the past weeks, but he couldn’t put his foot down on this.

“Well, it’s my house, and sleeping here won’t affect the baby, so you don’t get to say a word about it.” A pause. “Neither does Aedion, because if I look at him one more time, I swear to Mala, Rowan, I’m going to flip the fuck out.”

He flexed his jaw. “What did he do?”

“Everything!” Aelin flailed her arms around and started pacing around the room. “He’s so annoying! He making jokes about my cravings, and then he goes and steals a bite of my food, and then keeps suggesting ridiculous baby names.” She was finger-counting her cousin’s shenanigans, face reddening with each example of his teasing. “A few days ago, he said—“ Aelin stopped speaking to take a deep breath and look up, but her eyes were already wet. “He told me to name our daughter Wiggly Jiggly!” Her lips wobbled, and she looked away, hiding her teary face. “That’s such a horrible name.”

Oh, fuck. This wasn’t the first outburst of pregnancy hormones he witnessed, and Rowan was sure he’d never be ready for them.

He sat on the mattress and patted the spot beside him. “C’mere.”

Aelin obliged, laying down with her head on his lap, facing away from him. He just caressed her hair and let her be, knowing very well she didn’t like to cry in front of people, even if she couldn’t help it.

“For what it’s worth, I’d never let our daughter’s name be Wiggly Jiggly.”

She groaned. “You find this funny?”

“No,” he lied. It seemed to be all good-natured cousin teasing, but Rowan did a mental note to ask Aedion to tone down the name suggestions.

“Did I tell you he ate half of my mango yesterday?”

“That’s terrible.”

“He apologized when I started crying, but I haven't forgiven him yet. The apology mango he gave me wasn’t as juicy.”

Rowan snorted. “I have a very good mango supplier.”

She sniffed. “I know you do.”

Aelin’s puffy red nose was so adorable Rowan loved and hated it at the same time. He wanted to peck it with kisses because of how cute she looked, and then completely crush and destroy whatever threat made her cry.

“I have an idea.”

Aelin made a sound that was somewhere a hum and a purr. She was no better than a house cat when he ran his fingers through her hair like this.

“If you don’t want to live with Aedion anymore.” He trailed, pondering his words. “You can stay with me. Just until your house is ready,” Rowan quickly added the last part, before she could protest.

Aelin turned her body so she could lie facing him. Her eyes scanned his face, reading how much he meant it. “I don’t know…”

“I have a very comfortable guest room, but you can take mine if you want. Or my roommate’s, I can kick him out.” Aelin chuckled, eyes blissfully closed as he caressed her scalp. Rowan continued, “You can take a nap there, and when you wake up, we can discuss it over freshly baked cookies.”

Her lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “You’ve always been good at dirty talk, Ro.”

It should be illegal, the heat that flooded over Rowan’s body. Especially when they agreed their affair was over. Whenever he looked, scrambling his mind for a decent thought, his brain conjured the memory of Aelin’s flushed face and aroused looks.

He cleared his throat. “Is that a yes?”

“Let’s see how soft your bed is, Lieutenant.”

For Mala’s sake. Rowan let out a string of curses inside his head as he forced his gaze on the ceiling. She had to be doing this on purpose. Which reminded of the other menace he had to deal with.

Rowan: You have 3 minutes to get rid of your boy toy.

Fenrys: how do you know it’s a boy?

Rowan: The sneakers

He helped Aelin get up from the mattress, which was another reason she shouldn’t sleep here. It would kill her with back pain, considering her bump was bigger each day. He opened the chat again.

Rowan: Aelin may or may not spend the next few weeks in our place

Fenrys: nice

Fenrys: does it mean you’ll cook for me too?

Rowan: I already cook for you.

Fenrys: i know

Fenrys: but the pregnant lady stole my chef

When he rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone, Aelin was carefully studying him.

“I was letting Fenrys know you’re coming over.

“For the nap, right?”

He didn’t answer.

Aelin slowly shook her head. “I’m going to disturb your routine.”

Rowan squeezed her hand. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re being a big Buzzard right now, did you know that?”

Rowan tilted his head. “A what?”

Aelin tried to portray a serious look, but she was clamping her lips together, trying not to laugh. “A Buzzard. Because you’re hovering.”

After that, Rowan offered to drive her to his place, but Aelin refused, saying she was pregnant, not disabled. His only response was to chuckle and stay close to her during their short walk, in case she tripped or felt ill.

Rowan didn’t mind being called a Buzzard, as long as she didn’t mind that he acted like one.

˜˜

As much as Maisie deserved the best of the best on her birthday, Rowan felt like this outrageously expensive condensed milk was laughing at his face. He didn’t even pay for it, his parents did, but it was a matter of principles.

From the other side of the kitchen counter, Rory barely acknowledged her son’s distressed state. “Being cheap doesn’t look cute, Rowan.”

“Cheap?” His voice came out a pitch higher than he intended. “I’m not cheap, I just do a cost-benefit analysis before buying something, and it still ends up being expensive. But your groceries weren’t expensive, they were outrageous.”

Rory pointed a finger at her son. “Your job is to parent Maisie and teach her to be responsible.” She pointed at herself. “My job is to spoil her rotten, and that includes baking her overpriced cakes.”

“And giving overpriced gifts,” Rowan murmured to himself while organizing his shelf.

“You’re still bitter about that?”

Rowan looked at his mom dead in the eye. “You could’ve bought her a toy. You could’ve bought her a princess costume.” A dramatic pause. “You bought her an acoustic drum set.”

“It was your dad’s idea.” Rory beamed. “She’ll love it.”

“I will never know peace again.”

“Is Sellene coming tomorrow?” His mother asked, changing the subject.

Rowan resumed putting groceries away. “Just for Skull’s Bay on Saturday.”

After tomorrow morning’s surprise, Maisie had something with Aelin at Orlon’s, and on the weekend they’d go to the pirate-themed restaurant every kid in Doranelle City loved.

“It’ll be just us and Aelin, then?”

“Just us.”

“And Aelin?”

Rowan gave her a hard look, and his mother’s shoulders dropped.

“I thought things were better between the two of you.”

He ran a hand through his hair as if it’s take the frustration out of his mind. Yes, they were communicating better. It only erased one of the problems they had. And to be fair, it’s much easier to look Aelin in the face when she’s shooting daggers at him than when she’s smiling because of something their daughter did. It made him feel more at ease with his choices.

“We’re fighting less, yes, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“You’re not friends yet, that’s alright. But is the birthday yours or Maisie’s?”

“What do you mean?”

“Because you just told me you didn’t invite Aelin because she’s not your friend, but this is not your party. She’s Maisie’s mom, Rowan, it doesn’t matter if you’re friends or not.”

“Well, Aelin’s throwing another party in the evening and didn’t invite me either.”

Rory shrugged. “I don’t care about the guest list for her party. In my parties, Aelin will always be a guest.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Your party?”

It was Maisie’s party at Rowan’s house.

“I’m making the food, which means I have a say about who gets invited.”

It didn’t, but his mother was impossible to argue with.

“Fine. I’ll text her when I’m done here.”

Rowan didn’t even mind Aelin’s presence there, it was just how they operated since last year. But they were better, and maybe he should have more initiative. Rowan scrubbed the flour container clean a lot more than he needed, thinking about this over and over.

“You know how I feel about this, son.” his mother turned to him from the other side of the kitchen.

His shoulders went rigid. “I know, could you not—“

“You should’ve married her.”

Rowan spilled flour all over the counter while opening the sack.

It wasn’t the first time his mother expressed her feelings about this, but they got fewer and far between as time passed. Going from encouraging him to propose while Aelin was pregnant to… this.

“We’re seeing a therapist after years apart. Can you imagine the shitshow we’d be if we were actually together?”

His mom had to understand this. If Rowan had been telling this to himself so much he had the words memorized, it had to make sense.

She didn’t seem to, though. “Every couple has fights, Rowan. It just needs to balance out with how much sex—“

Grimacing, he felt his upper arms quiver. “Could you not?”

”Alright.” Rory sighed. “I’m just saying you chose to have just the bad end of the deal. Apart from Maisie, that is.”

Fed up with this conversation, Rowan felt his pulse faster each second. He identified the anger he was feeling and repeated to himself that he would not snap at his mother over and over as he slowly wiped his hands on a cloth.

“I know you mean well, but I don’t like it when you tell me what I should’ve done,” Rowan explained in a carefully controlled tone. At that point, he had all of Yrene’s pdfs memorized. “It makes me feel…”

“You can talk to me,” Rory insisted when silence stretched, lips pursed as she looked too concerned for his liking. “How does that make you feel?”

Resentful. Frustrated. Hurt. There was no point in admitting that, though. The worst part is that no matter how much Rowan forced his face to look neutral, his mother still read him like a book. He drew out a long breath. “I need to pick Maisie up from school.”

The kitchen couldn’t be more silent after that.

˜˜

Turns out shoving his feelings down his throat was just what Rowan needed to go on with his day. His phone pinged around an hour past Maisie’s bedtime, and he already knew who it was.

Aelin: she’s still up??

Rowan: She’s too excited

Rowan: The first party I’ll be throwing for myself, *if* she falls asleep.

Aelin: lol lmk when i can come

Since they planned two separate celebrations before inviting each other, Maisie was now having two parties on the same day with both parents.

A small smile made its way into Rowan’s lips as he watched Maisie babbling in her kitten pajamas about her birthday tomorrow. She barely noticed he was using his phone, and if his little girl even suspected what was happening soon, her chances of falling asleep would be ruined.

Rowan: You don’t need to, I’ve got this

Aelin: stop fussing

Aelin: and text me when she’s out

“…I also like my birthday because I don’t have to brush teeth.”

Rowan crossed his arms. “Who told you that?”

“Mommy!” Maisie’s voice was more high-pitched than normal, and she looked a little too eager for his response, wearing a maniac smile. His daughter was such a bad liar, and Rowan hoped that never changed. At least not before teen years. She tapped the side of her head. “I have it in my rememberys.”

Rowan felt the warmth in his chest and refused to correct this mispronunciation. They got rarer each year, and he was enjoying the remains of this phase before it stayed just in his rememberys.

“Come on, Mais.” He kissed her forehead. “The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner your birthday will be here.”

She didn’t only close her eyes, but squished her eyelids together as if it’d make her fall asleep faster. “Maybe I can turn 7 and not 5 when I wake up.”

Rowan snorted. “That’s not how birthdays work.”

“But I want to be older than Charlie!”

After a lot of wrangling and lavender sleep spray on her pillow and reading books about hippos and answering that no, tomorrow isn’t Mrs. Hippo’s birthday as well, Maisie’s tiredness finally overthrew her birthday euphoria.

Rowan: She’s asleep.

Aelin: k. i’ll be there in 5

As carefully as he could, he removed himself from Maisie’s strong hold and went to the guest bedroom.

Rowan knocked on the door, even if it was open. “Everything alright there? She’s asleep.”

His parents let out a collective sigh, as if they were the ones fighting Maisie’s frenzy with their lives.

“Finally!” Rory whisper-yelled while getting up from the bed. She tapped on Rowan’s shoulders at the threshold. ”Time to do some baking.”

As loud as his mother could be sometimes, at least she understood that this preparation needed to be as silent as possible. If his daughter wakes up and sees what they’re up to… for Mala’s sake, he doesn't even want to think about it.

Crouching, his dad dragged a huge suitcase from under the bed and opened to reveal the new bane of Rowan’s existence.

Maisie’s acoustic drum set.

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Buying her drums wasn’t enough, you got one kit so big it needed its own suitcase.”

His dad was smiling so much at that thing it showed off every crinkle around his eyes. ”Nothing more than what our Maisy Daisy deserves. And it’s pink!”

Rowan crossed his arms, feeling a little torn. As much as he hated the idea of leaving a very active kid with the loudest, messiest musical instrument of them all, it could be overwhelming when his parents and Maisie were together. Rory and Owen were the kind of doting grandparents Maisie deserves, and it warmed his heart to see how much his little girl was loved.

A notification from his phone snapped Rowan out of his thoughts.

Aelin: where r u??????

He frowned at his phone, confused.

Rowan: At home?

Aelin: GREAT. could you pls answer the front door????

Cursing under his breath, he quickly dismissed himself to get the door.

“Don’t worry about me, son! Sellene sent the link on how to assemble this.”

“Of course she did,” Rowan called over his shoulder from the hall.

Rowan’s heartbeat was a little quicker than he intended while fumbling with the door handle. He didn’t want to upset Aelin tonight, but

“Gods, Rowan, I was knocking for ages!”

“Sorry,” he apologized, but then frowned. “Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?”

Aelin crossed her arms. “And wake up Maisie?”

He grimaced. Their daughter didn’t wake up that easily, but he was actually glad she didn’t take the risk.

“Sorry.” He scratched the back of his head. “Mom’s cooking, Dad’s assembling her drums, I’ll do the decoration.”

She blinked, eyes widened. “I’m sorry, drums?”

“Yes.” Rowan mimicked playing with drumsticks with the dullest face possible, to portray how unhappy he was with it. “Drums.”

“Dear Mala, this—“ Aelin cackled into her palm, shoulders trembling as she tried not to be loud. “You are so fucked,” she wheezed.

He squinted his eyes at her amusement, arms crossed. “Are you done?”

Of course she’d find this funny. The drum set was too big to fit into Maisie’s backpack when Rowan dropped her off at Aelin’s house.

“Alright, alright.” She raised both hands in surrender. “I can’t cook, and I’m not a percussion girlie. What do we’ve got?”

She was carefully silent the whole time Rowan showed his decoration plans.

“You got…” Aelin wrinkled her nose. ”Orange, pink, red and green balloons?”

“Maisie likes those colors!”

“But this is a terrible palette!” She complained, waving a hand at the packs of balloons displayed on the table, but then something about his face made her stop. “As much as I appreciate your efforts, I…” from Aelin’s furrowed brows, Rowan knew she was trying to mentally fit her unkind words into Yrene’s Guide On How To Communicate With Kindness. “I’m not a fan of the color scheme you chose. I think we can do better for Maisie.”

“Alright.” Rowan’s posture relaxed. “I’m listening.”

Rowan still didn’t know how to feel about this new technique. They were always saying how much they acknowledged each other’s efforts and feelings and respectfully disagreed. Sometimes, it made his interactions with Aelin feel too robotic, unnatural. It gave him a weird hollow feeling to see the two of them like this, but it was for the best. They were doing the best they could for Maisie.

After some explanations Rowan didn’t pay much attention to, Aelin decided the pink and orange balloons went better with the number 5 rose gold balloon he bought, and it was settled.

She rubbed her hands together. “Where’s the balloon thingy?”

“The what?”

Aelin gestured with her hands, but he could only understand a small, squared shape. “That thing we use to fill the balloons.”

Rowan tilted his head. “Our lungs?”

“Boo! Boring!” Aelin protested, but she was smirking at him.

He sat on the couch with the pink pack of balloons and tossed the orange one at her. “Come on, I’d like to get more than three hours of sleep tonight.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, lungs too busy to speak, being interrupted only when Aelin groaned about the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

Her eyes were full of mischief. “Do you think your mom will let me take a bite?”

“Only after Maisie wakes up,” his mom warned from the kitchen’s threshold, pointing between the two of them with a dirty whisk. Then she aimed a soft grin at Aelin. “But I’m making those chocolate hazelnut cookies.”

She sagged back on the couch, eyes closed while wearing a small, blissful smile. “Your mom is the best.”

“Thanks, darlin’!” Rory called from the kitchen.

Aelin chuckled and turned to him. “Shall we get the tape?”

Rowan shook his head. “Nope, it’ll ruin the walls.”

“Really?” She had her arms crossed and brows raised. “Are you worried it’ll ruin Maisie’s drawings? Because it doesn’t look like you care about the paint.”

Completely ignoring Aelin’s taunt, he kneeled in front of her and tapped his shoulder. “Hop on.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, but he didn’t miss the way the corner of her lip twitched. “This is terrible for your back.”

“You think I can’t take you?” Rowan wore a playful smile while watching Aelin’s blood rush into her cheeks. “Be careful, you’re about to bruise a man’s ego.”

Resigned, she carefully sat on his shoulders, cursing under her breath when he got up. When Aelin grabbed a fistful of his hair to support herself, Rowan’s body immediately tingled. It brought him back to another time when she’d yank his hair the same way, but he was quick to shrug it off. His memories were a menace.

“Okay…” holding Aelin’s legs, he kicked a balloon up and she caught it with the hand that wasn’t holding his hair. “Now rub it in my hair and put it on the ceiling.”

She was quiet for a second. “You want me to do what?”

He squeezed her calf for reassurance, since they couldn’t see each other’s faces. “I need you to make the balloon electrostatically charged enough to stick it to the ceiling.”

“And that’s better than tape?” He couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t sound happy.

“For Mala’s sake, Aelin, I’m an engineer! Just rub the damn thing in my hair.”

She kicked his torso with the heel of her foot. “Where are the manners Yrene taught you?”

“His mother too!” Rory called from the kitchen.

Rowan closed his eyes for a second, embracing his defeat. He was helpless when the women in his family ganged up on him. “Please.”

“Here we go.” Aelin did as he asked, and let out a squeal of delight when the balloon adhered to the ceiling. “It worked!”

“It had to. It’s a law of physics.”

She playfully kicked him again. “Killjoy.”

This was nice. The weight of Aelin on his shoulders didn’t even cause an itch, maybe because Rowan felt so much lighter right now he didn’t even notice the extra weight on his back. Just like he didn’t notice time running, only realizing how late it was when his parents went to the living room to say goodbye.

After they finished decorating the ceiling, Aelin started on the wall while he rested on the couch for a few minutes. As much as the orthopedist beside him disagreed, there’s no running from back pain after 30. In fact, at this point in his life, if Rowan didn’t wake up in some sort of physical pain, that’d probably mean he’s dead.

“What’re you doing?” He asked her as she grabbed the pack of green balloons, after they made a half-wall of pink flowers.

She filled a small one and placed it on the corner of one balloon flower. “A leaf! You wanted more green.”

That gave him a faint, very tired smile. Rowan barely remembered their disagreement earlier about which colors they were using, but apparently she did.

She sat on the couch next to him after adding a few more leaves to the flower wall. “I can help you with your old man's back pain if you keep teaching me cool Physics tricks. How about that?”

He snorted. “That’s basic high school Physics.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Of course you were the nerd.”

“And you weren’t?”

“Nope. Too cool for that.“ Aelin tried to conceal a distant look on her face as she reminisced, ”I was hot and depressed. Had bigger things going on than physics.”

Rowan stared at her, wide-eyed. “How did you get into med school without studying?”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m just that awesome.”

The TV’s remote control was right by her side, so Aelin turned it on Netflix. He didn’t feel like watching TV yet, though. Rowan didn’t miss the part about her being depressed during her teenage years, especially how she tried to laugh it off. The same way she downplayed her going to therapy weeks ago.

“So…” Rowan cleared his throat. “How are you now? With the… Yrene stuff.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “We’re doing better, right? At least that’s the impression I got from the last few weeks.”

Now that he was paying more attention, he realized Aelin sometimes talked about family while answering his questions about her. Rowan didn’t know if this was intentional, so he didn’t pressure her to correct her answer, but he didn’t like it either.

“I think so too.”

“And now that we don’t fight as much and I don’t spend half of my time being angry at you, I realized I have all this energy I can focus on something else.”

“Like what?”

He glanced at Aelin from the corner of his eye. She looked calm, relaxed. Maybe she didn’t lie to him about the reason she was seeing a therapist. Maybe Rowan was just being a worrywart and worrying about things he shouldn’t.

“I’m reading more, but sometimes I think about getting back into playing the piano too.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. “And sometimes I think maybe Maisie could use some siblings.”

“You’re pregnant?” Rowan blurted, completely ruining the mood they were in.

“What?” She jerked at the couch, staring at him. “Why would you think that?”

“You just brought babies up!”

Why in hell was Rowan’s heartbeat so fast?

“Gods, no.” She sighed, relaxing again. “I just get pensive around Maisie’s birthdays, that’s all.”

That definitely wasn’t all. Considering having more kids just because one turned five isn’t a thing. Rowan felt his chest burn and tighten. It felt wrong to have his family fixed just so she could finally grow another, but maybe not in Aelin’s head. Maybe he was naive to think just him and Maisie would be enough for her.

Sensing something was wrong with him, she pressed play on a half-watched show on his TV. Good. His eyelids were starting to drop, but he was a trained military man. He could survive under the hardest conditions, especially exhaustion.

˜˜

Rowan woke up with Fenrys Moonbeam slapping the side of his head. He was laying on the couch with his legs intertwined with Aelin’s, who apparently fell asleep with her head on the other end.

Turns out his friend crashed into his daughter’s birthday breakfast because he assumed there’d be food, but everyone just shrugged it off as Fenrys being Fenrys and went on with the party.

As predicted, Maisie was a little bubble of excitement. Rowan had no idea what kind of bribery his parents would do to take her to school after that, or why they insisted on doing it in the first place.

It was all nice and easy, but the second Fenrys got him alone in the car, the questions started.

“Did a bug bite your ass on that old couch?”

Rowan had his eyes narrowed at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too stiff for your daughter’s birthday. Spill.”

He grimaced, hoping Maisie didn’t notice that. There was one thing going on inside his head today, but Rowan decided to give Fenrys some other answer. “Did you see my parent’s present? I’ll never enjoy silence again.”

Fenrys clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he turned off the radio. “When Maisie pisses you off by being a little hellion, you do that thing where you’re making pissy faces while trying not to smile. Now you’re just full pissy.”

Rowan’s shoulders slumped, and she ignored the hollowness inside his chest as he recalled part of his conversation with Aelin last night. He was probably going to regret sharing this, but it was done now.

“She definitely wasn’t just thinking about it. She’s on the hunt.”

Rowan tilted his head. “The hunt?”

“Listen, man, Aelin’s different. The way she’s lighter when she talks, you can’t fake that shit.” Fenrys was counting on his fingers with one hand the same way they’d do on a mission, before becoming drill instructors. “She’s happier. Each year, her ovaries only get closer to the shrinking age or whatever. She’s on the hunt. She wants Mr. Right, and she wants him now.”

Rowan faked a bored look now that his friend could look at him during the red light. “Go on. Without the ovaries part, please.”

It was so frustrating how easily he engaged in Fenrys’ nonsense. But if he did, it must hold some truth, right?

“We need to avoid The Sam Mess from happening again.” Fenrys’ voice was so serious Rowan could barely believe it came out of his friend’s mouth.

He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a mess. She didn’t- green light!” Rowan winced when the car harshly took off. There was a reason he didn’t let Maisie drive with Uncle Fen. “Aelin didn’t tell me about him, probably to avoid said mess.”

“Nope, I’m talking about you. You were a mess.”

“What’s your point?” Rowan was definitely going to snap at Fenrys if he mentioned Lieutenant Cortland again.

“My point?” His friend raised his hand in surrender and Rowan gripped the steering wheel to save them from a car crash. Fenrys immediately got back to it, cursing. “My point is to save my best friend from endless heartbreak.”

“Not an endless heartbreak, that ship sailed years ago.” A pause. Fuck, he was too curious to shut Fenrys out now. “But what do you mean?”

“It’s a complicated plan with many, many steps.” His friend gave him a look as if daring Rowan to disagree or find it funny. “But when the time comes, you’ll need to be fucking someone hotter than her.”

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. Like it was an easy task.

Over the years, he had a few flings. Real flings, not the kind where people move in and have children together, since Aelin insists on labeling what they had like this. But these affairs happened sporadically, and Rowan never considered turning any of them into something serious.

Showing up with some arm candy out of the blue just to spite Aelin sounded petty and desperate. There was no way Fenrys was talking him into it.

His friend continued, “Being hotter than her next boyfriend works too, but that’s harder to control.”

“You know, I’m almost regretting telling you this.“

“You have an advantage over Aelin—“

“If you’re trying to suggest I’m near as good-looking or interesting as her—“

“Not that.” Fenrys gave him a quick apologetic look. “But you’re a dude. Dudes are like taxi drivers.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Not one of your theories again.”

“Not mine. Sex and the City’s.” Fenrys raised a finger without taking his hands off the steering wheel. “We see someone there who looks like they won’t kill us, and they hop in. That’s how dudes work. Have you ever put your love life on hold because you were hoping to get the right person?”

Rowan refused to answer this question. “This is so sexist I can barely believe it’s coming out of a queer person’s mouth.”

“It’s Sex and the City wisdom, man. Those four chicks just know things.”

“So, basically…” Rowan sighed, weighing the absurdity of it all. “You’re telling me that being a slut will make me feel better about Aelin looking for a new family.”

“That’s the quick fix, yes. You should really talk to Lorcan too, though.” Fenrys glanced at him, smirking like the devil. “But in the meanwhile, I can even help you with a Tinder profile.”

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[lt-taylor7]

“Patience” Rowan Callaghan x reader (PART 1) ———————

A/N; I haven’t written fic in years so be patient

warnings; gender neutral, Series, Partially slow burn, lime/lemon later on, kinda self insert, kinda OOC, Somewhat ignores story of HBH, angst later on, reverse comfort eventually, This part is just story building and introduction. NOT PROOFREAD

—

Hartley high was a shit show of a school, Especially since Amerie, (Map Bitch.) fucked up the entire schools year by her stupid stunt. One that you were glad to be missed out on, although your sure your names somewhere else in the world labeling you some sort of slur.

Having your moment of weakness, staring at the entrance, students piling in on either side of you, you contemplate just turning around. But alas, you made your not so grand entrance, a few people laughed and called names, as they would to anyone.

you quickly found your classes and seated yourself, not entertained by the class filling but rather by whom it was filled by, all familiar faces, some whom you knew more than others, although one whom you’ve never seen before. Longer hair, Nothing past his shoulder length, and a best layered over a flannel. Not the smartest outfit choice in this weather, you noted, moving on to the next face walking in.

it didn’t take long for the classes seating arrangement to be changed due to some loudmouths sitting in the back were acting like preschoolers. You were now sat right beside the door in the back corner, feeling banished by the teacher, However you knew you were trusted, and that’s why you were sat there. It was shortly after the unknown face with the vest was sat next to you.

He made an awkward moment of eye contact with a small smile before dropping his head and taking the seat, you tried to return the smile before missing the opportunity.

“Rowan, Right?” You asked quietly as other students still found their seats, he looked over, “oh, yeah, Y/n?” He asked, a questioning look on his face, an unreadable intention. “Yeah-“ you responded nervously. He just nodded before looking back to the teacher as class started.

—

“hey, do you have a calculator-?” Rowan asked quietly with a nervous chuckle. “I think so, just a minute.” You say, digging through your backpack for a minute before grasping a small calculator and handing it over, arm not extending enough to reach his desk, “thank you,” you said in a breathy whisper as he grasped it from your hand, An embarrassed blush across his face as he typed in the equation he was working on. —

“Uhm, Sorry do you understand what this means?” You asked, leaning over to ask Rowan, pointing to a question you didn’t understand, his eyes meet yours for a moment before he looks down at the page, whispering out the question to himself and looking over it, he leaned closer and moved his chair a bit closer to your desk, jotting down a couple scribbles and notes, “I think X just converts over to SIN minus one.” He says, picking up the calculator from earlier and typing in a quick equation before jotting down whatever he got before looking up to meet your eyes again, another unsure expression past his face. It stays like that for a minute before he opens his mouth, leaning back up to his desk. “At least I think that’s it-“ he says with a chuckle. You laugh back, “Looks right to me, thank you.” You say with a smile, he just nods back before turning his attention back to his page. —

You walked through the hall, Trying to find your locker before going for class photos in the gym, “Hey Y/n?” You turn to face the voice, it was Rowan again. He lightly jogged over to your locker, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Do you know where the gym is? I was supposed to go for photos and I can’t find it-“ he said nervously, clearly embarrassed. You smile, “Yeah, I have to head that way anyways, I’ll show you.” You respond, closing your locker, snapping on the lock before turning to the hall leading to the gym.

“You really know your way around, Have you been here long?” Rowen asks, A warm look across his face as you ducked through the halls together. “Oh yeah, You learn you way quickly though.” You say with a small laugh as you stepped into the gym. “Looks like we made it just in time.” You say looking over your year getting ready for a group photo, “Yeah I guess so.” Rowan says before going separate ways to find spots in the group. You saw as he walks through the group and finds himself stood beside Amerie. You slightly snickered to yourself and made a mental note to stay away from her this semester as much as possible.

——

I have so many plans and ideas for this story and I’m so glad to see where it goes, Please comment any suggestions!!

[steddiexbylerxronance]

The Mixed School-Chapter 17

Felix-Giant (I WAS GONNA ADD THEIR DATE BUT I THINK I WANT TO LEAVE THAT FOR HIS NEXT POV SO I CAN SKIP THE GETTING READY AND ALL THAT)

Just so you guys know, whatever Ace says is a lie. I never cried when we watched that stupid movie. Never should've let him pick what he wanted. I'm the superior movie picker.

  Anyways, it was Labor Day, so the school gave us a free day. 

I was thinking that I should suck it all up and ask Rowan out to lunch. 

  “Sooo, Ace” I started, resting my elbows on my knees, watching him play a video game on my laptop. He looked like he was struggling, but I'd seen him snap when I would comment on his gameplay, so I just waited for him to die. 

His character to die, specifically.

  “Awh man!” He groaned, flopping onto his back. Leo had been watching him curiously, and laughed quietly. 

   “Okay, I’m good now. What’dya need, my Giant friend?” 

“How do I ask someone out?” 

Ace just blinked. “What?”

 “He said how does he ask someone out,” Leo mumbled to Ace. I felt a wave of gratitude for the Borrower so I didn’t have to repeat that embarrassing sentence. My pale skin was already tinged bright pink enough. 

 “Oh. Oh. Ohhh,” Ace smirked, and sat up straight. He clasped his hands together, like he was about to give me an interview. I sighed. I should’ve expected this from a cocky, American Human. Of course. 

  “Who’s the lucky girl, first?” He asked. 

 “Them. They’re a them. Their name is Rowan. They’re just so…pretty. But not like in a…sexy way, they’re just nice to look at. And the way they act, it’s just so cute, but I would never dream of doing them at night, never.”

 “Ohh. Oh. Oh.” 

“Would you stop saying oh?” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. Ace flinched, and I immediately felt bad. “Sorry-It’s just…” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. I need help, mate. Please.”

 “Oh.” Ace said again, probably to mess with me. I raised an eyebrow, and he put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, buddy. Don’t go eating me up. But first, you’re going to have to put some of those clothes we bought to use. Have you made definite plans yet?” 

  I sat down on the edge of my bed. “No. Since it’s Labor Day I was going to go and ask them today.” 

  Ace was a little more calm now. He looked sympathetic, an emotion rarely shown on his face. “How do you think they’ll react if you ask them?” 

  I shrugged. “Dunno. They’ve had bad past experiences with other lovers…So I’m not so sure.” 

  Yeah, something that Rowan mentioned to me is that when they were younger, about Years 8 and 9, (7th and 8th grade for the Americans, I think.) This guy, before Rowan had transitioned into Non-Binary, he kept gaslighting them, making them think that they were safe with him, but they weren’t. It was bad, really. I don’t want to go into the specific details, but I think you can guess what happened.

  “Okay. How about you just ask them out, as friends? A fun little Labor Day lunch.” Ace responded, standing up to make his way over to my closet. I wondered what outfit he would pick for me. 

 He came back to me a few moments later. “You should wear the white sweatpants with the blue surfer hoodie. I think it’ll really bring out those eyes of yours..”

 “Alright…” I muttered, my tone doubtful. 

  After I changed into the outfit Ace suggested, I took a look at myself in the mirror. I looked good, if I do say so myself. He was right, it did bring out my two different eye colors perfectly. 

“Hey thanks, mate.”

 “No problem.

 You gonna go ask them out now?” Ace grinned, watching me stand at the door. 

“Ye-” Before I could say anything else, a small voice interrupted me. 

“Before you do, can you drop me off at a friend’s dorm?” 

“Yeah, no problem.” I said, offering my hand for Leo to climb on. “Where to?”

  This was only the third time I had held him in my hand, I believe. I still wasn’t used to it, even if my parents did have Borrowers as ‘Pets’ in their big huge mansion for entertainment. I hated it. I think they’d be interested to know I was rooming with A Borrower. Oh yeah, they don’t know I’m at this school. They think I got this fancy internship for business. 

 What I really want to do though, is Theatre. I’ll explain later. Right now, Leo needs to get somewhere.

 “It’s just a couple doors away from ours…Room 343 I think.” 

 “You think, or you know?” I grinned, but took him anyway.  

 When I arrived at the dorm and knocked, a familiar face answered. “Xan? You’re staying with Xan?” 

 Leo shook his head. “No, I’m staying with his roommate, Cara.” 

 Cara must’ve heard Leo’s voice, because I then saw a Borrower girl in a wheelchair, with curly red hair. “Leo!” She said, and her face brightened.

  “Ookay, I’ll leave you two to it.” I said, lowering Leo to the ground.

                             -                                 - 

“Argh! What...” I groaned, rubbing my head. I had been  rushing to find Rowan, to ask them out to lunch today, but that plan was obviously delayed.

 At least, until I saw who had knocked me over, and was also on the floor rubbing their head.

 Rowan!

Oh that's just great.

  The very person I wanted to ask out was the person I bumped into. It would make him look even more pathetic. 

  “Felix?!” Rowan exclaimed, rushing over to help me stand up. “Sorry,” I muttered, my heart fluttering as their hand came into contact with mine when they helped me to my feet. 

 “I was looking for you. Guess I found you.” Rowan joked, smoothing their shirt down. “U-uh what did you need me for?” I asked, running a hand through my hair. Rowan started to look equally nervous as I felt. What was up with them?

  “I was going to ask you something” They said, rocking on the balls of their feet. “Me too.” I mumbled, looking down.

 “You go first.”

“No you.”

“Fine. Let's go together?”

“Sure.”

“3..2..1..”

“Will you go out to lunch with me?” We said at the same time. My eyes widened, but I think Rowan’s widened even more than mine. 

  “Yes!” We said in unison.

[murfpersonalblog]

Mayfair Witches S2E5 (Show & Book Spoilers): JULIEN MAYFAIR

50/50--half of this ep was conceptually cool (Julien & the dollhouse), and the other half was a giant load of wasted time--literally & figuratively.

elderly!Julien seems to have been deliberately wasting Rowan's time, getting her to do errands for him the same way he had Cortland constantly feeding him in 2x2. If she'd kept serving him, the clock would've run out, and she'd die in the Victrola. But Rowan's entitled impatience & dumb AF impulsiveness led to her leaving the Victrola on her own, not following the rules about Julien needing to LET her leave--

--just like she ignored Dolly Jean about not interrupting Moira, & landed her in the frikkin hospital! So ofc half of Rowan's soul gets split when she goes back, like a effing moron. 🙄😒

The dollhouse concept was SO FREAKING COOL, as ghost!Julien's POV watching everything that goes on in his house.

Why're you lying to her, yes she is; Rowan's the biggest fool on this whole show, stop it. They said victrola!Rowan was all Intellect, and dollhouse!Rowan was all Emotion; Head vs Heart; but chile, I couldn't tell the frikkin difference; this woman can't act. 😩 Julien's actor was great though, I like him.

EXACTLY, like stfu Rowan, and start asking Julien RELEVANT questions! God she got on my nerves, wasting SO MUCH Time starting at the dollhouse tryna talk to people who CANNOT HEAR HER AT ALL, rather than the effing patriarch standing RIGHT THERE. 🤦 My patience with her was SHOT this ep, omfg.

Spoken like a man who never carried a child then gave birth. 🙄😒

Interesting how AMC kept the incest stuff with Rowan & Lasher, but dodged the pedo stuff with Julien & Lasher--Julien was THREE when Lasher came to him, NOT 12. 💀 The night Julien's grandma died, Lasher realized that his mom Marguerite had gone crazy, and that his baby sister Katherine couldn't even see Lasher at all. But Julien could see Lasher just fine, so Lasher molested Julien instead--the way he always introduces himself to his new Witch.

I HATE these 8-ep seasons--I wanted to SEE Lasher posses Julien's body, gosh darnit! That was the best part of Lasher, getting Julien's whole backstory!

Julien woke up in way more places than just the French Quarter--he usually woke up in STORYVILLE; the IWTV crossover we SHOULD HAVE gotten! book!Julien died in 1914, so he'd've been active when Papa DPDL was still alive & AMC!Louis DPDL was growing up (Louis started working in Storyville in 1905, when his dad died). So they'd've 100% known about Julien; and ESPECIALLY the prostitutes & johns around Storyville (which "officially" opened in 1897). Julien started letting Lasher possess him in 1872, right after his daughter/niece Mary Beth was born (Julien was 44ish). So he had DECADES to build a reputation by AMC!Louis' time.

Cuz possessed!Julien was a effing MENACE in the Red Light District; it wasn't just fistfights; Julien/LASHER was busy sleeping around with literally anyone, it was sick, the situations Julien found himself in, Lasher was a effing degenerate in his body. And this is why Julien had SO MANY EFFING KIDS, White & Black, cuz Lasher was the rolling stone, NOT Julien--Julien made a point of tryna go looking for his mystery kids, even the Black ones, to keep track of everything Lasher was up to in his body, and how may Mayfairs were scattered around because of their shenanigans. But Julien let Lasher keep doing it, to prove himself "useful;" but also cuz every time Lasher was in him, Julien got access to bits of Lasher's memories from his past life back in Scotland. Win/win, even if it was at the cost of Julien's reputation. So AMC definitely sanitized Julien's time with Lasher, to only talk about the fights & taking portrait photographs. 😅

THIS WAS A EFFING COOL TWIST, AMC. 👏👏👏

"Kill Bride" is a hilariously ironic name, LOL, as Lasher went around killing all his Mayfair brides.

"SAINT ASHLAR" NAMEDROP STFU, LFG!!!!

So Ian Mayfair is what, the High Priest of the Cult of the Taltos or something? Is HE the one who's gonna try breeding Lasher with someone to make more Taltos? Whatever happens, I'm seated. 🍿👀

But it's so strange that Ian said "Ashlar"/Lasher was taller than expected--he's not nearly tall enough to be a Taltos. Like, 7 feet was AVERAGE for them. But wtvr. They REALLY shoulda CGI'd him, so his adult form did NOT look human anymore; eff the budget.

🤦 What kinda trash psychic are you, Albrecht, that you didn't know Ian was finna kill you as soon as you brought him Lasher? STUPID. Oh well, bye Felicia.

Julien erasing Cortland's memories of Scotland was very cool too--I love how they created a whole hidden Scottish branch of the Mayfairs worshiping Lasher as Saint Ashlar like something out of frikkin Midsommar, sacrificing sheep & virgins to him, like wtf. XD

They're really compressing the 2nd & 3rd books, so I hope we get Stonehenge and mention of the GIANTS, not just "pagan spirits."

So AMC's removing Marguerite being a VOODOO queen, and making her a Celtic pagan instead (good call, so that voodoo's not bastardized as the demonic nonsense she was up to as she culturally appropriated the traditions of her Haitian slaves--funny they haven't mentioned that Mayfairs being slaveowners yet, LOL). She also doesn't seem like a raving madwoman in that photo, which is a shame--that was the most interesting thing about her, LOL.

Hrmmm...Julien & Marguerite seeing the Taltos as "old gods/original deities/pagan spirits" SO LONG AGO effs up the lore about Lasher's whole mystery for the Mayfairs--they had no clue wtf he was until the Talamasca told them AFTER Rowan & Michael showed up in NOLA. But wtvr. Obvs they're tryna make sense of book!Julien's mysterious treks to Scotland, and why he was so secretive about Donnelaith--it never amounted to anything, but serving as a cover for whenever he'd take Mary Beth & Stella to Scotland & say some "Lord Donnelaith" had fathered their kids, when really it was just him. 😬

Chile, no one short of Satan himself could've impressed Marguerite--she was friggin nuts. But I guess AMC!Marguerite's a more competent witch; maybe SHE was the one who offered Julien to be Lasher's host? Rather than Julien OFFERING himself, a la the books?

True to form, Julien is a MESSY QUEEN. 😂

Interesting how Julien never actually answered the question about him & Albrecht. 👀 And if he never needed Albrecht to wipe memories cuz Julien could do it too, then what was Albrecht's ACTUAL purpose being involved in all this with Julien...? 👀👀

I'm sure we'll see this pub again in the next ep, once they all go to Scotland to get Lasher back.

Dolly Jean saying Julien's Victrola's a pub to Rowan is different from how it appears to her & Evelyn is very interesting--I wonder what room they saw? Dolly Jean was slowdancing & cheesing in a fancy nightgown, so I guess the place Julien took them was way more swanky? But Rowan sees a pub, cuz it's somehow connected to where Julien probably spent a lot of time in Scotland?????? IDFK.

I LITERALLY didn't care about the whole LOOOOONG subplot that took up dang near 1/3rd this ep with Rowan tryna roofie Lark to wipe his memories--esp. cuz in the end she didn't even go through with it, LOL. As usual, the scenes with Lark are so boring & dry, but also so effing offensive, cuz if they were gonna make this pretty white guy Rowan's REAL love interest, they should've just made HIM play Michael from the get-go, and not cuckold black!Ciprien to be the witless Mandingo who got roofied/raped to sire this white heifer's demon baby; then kicked out of the loop unless she needs him to solve her problems! I effing HATE that Cip is here more & more every episode, omfg. (Scratch that--cuz Cip wasn't even IN this episode! 🤦) The whole Victrola arc with Julien was with MICHAEL in the books, never Rowan--instead, they've got poor Cip being framed for Albrecht's crimes--and how convenient that Albrecht's DEAD now, so WHO is gonna clear Ciprien's name while his black arse is stuck arrested all the way in effing Amsterdam, huh!? Jfc.

As if asking this respected geneticist with his whole career on the line to do OFF THE RECORD SECRET TESTS on your demon kid's DNA isn't illegal & unethical?! At least by stealing your DNA to compare with Lasher's, Lark found some NEW info YOU certainly didn't have as you spun your useless wheels for the past 2 seasons.

Lotta TRUE things being admitted this episode at least. 😅

Despite how much Mayfair Witches is still a below average subpar show, it's still MUCH better than S1--which isn't saying much, I know, but still. They're just using so much more material from the books this time; whereas S1 really was just painfully bare bones.

[charliespringverse]

iwbft — tuesday: a brief summary of my annotations

all highlighted quotes: 136

· ouch/ow/owie: 12

· real/felt/relatable/so true: 5

· aroace: 2

· ☹/☹☹/☹☹☹: 9

Rowan is on his front, one arm slung over Jimmy's chest. Jimmy's head is tilted ever so slightly towards Rowan. — i've woken up like this with at least half my friends

The shipping itself isn't a major inconvenience to any of us. If anything, it keeps the fans interested. They think Judgement Day will eventually come and there'll be a big reveal that Rowan and I are secretly in love. There won't. We're not. — @larry shippers in the year of our lord 2023

It's always sort of been Rowan and Jimmy, plus Lister. We still love him of course. But that's just the way it is. — PAIN (note: this is all caps, huge, and triple underlined)

'I talk about The Ark all the time. I don't know why this was a surprise.' 'Fereshteh, it was a little bit of a surprise to me too.' 'Why?' 'I suppose... I suppose I never thought you actually cared about this band that much.' — parents vs actually listening to and validating their interests (failed, always)

Juliet chuckles weakly and looks away. I know she's had some bust-ups with her parents in the past. — understatement of the millennium

I'm an optimist. I like to believe that love exists. — it Does it just isn't always romantic/sexual. but it exists So Much

'I feel bad... feeling so happy when they're probably upset,' — ur so close to getting it queen

'Can't we just go home?' Lister mumbles. 'No,' she says. — foreshadowing innit

Rowan and I follow him immediately, like there's a string attaching us — ... invisible string addition to the folklore trilogy?

Lister tells us to go away, but Rowan just walks up to him and starts rubbing his back as he throws up. — ♡ listerowan bestieism

There's a big window on one side of the bathroom. Big enough to climb out, probably. We're on the ground floor. We could just climb out and run. Get up and go. — FORESHADOWING INNIT

Being trans has been a pretty you can big part of my life so far, thanks, but that shouldn't be particularly relevant here, in an interview about our music. — u can Never escape other ppl's obsession w ur transness

Dave laughs and says again, 'Now that's honesty.' — FUCK YOU DAVE (note: this is all caps, huge, and quadruple underlined)

I ask God to give me a bit of extra patience. Because every time Mac speaks, I sort of want to put an entire bag of cotton wool in his mouth. — what God is for x

Being a male fan of obscure old bands is, for some reason, more acceptable than being a female fan of a twenty-first-century boy band. — (also the obscure old bands are rarely that obscure. they're one direction for old white men)

They know exactly who they are. They put it in their blog about' page, they put it in their Twitter bio. I never know what to put in my Twitter bio so I usually just put an Ark lyric in there. — and when u enter ur confident aro-ace era? what then?

I like to think God does have a plan for everyone. But I also think there's too much shit in the world for all these plans to be perfect ones. Or maybe God doesn't have time to write a plan for everyone. And some of us are just trying our best and getting it a bit wrong. — i think this is why faith doesnt work for me

Everything's still there, though. My journals, my guitar, my main laptop, my childhood teddy bear, and the knife that Grandad gave me when I was sixteen. — now i want to know what he would admit to in one of them essentials interviews

It'd be useless as an actual weapon, since it's completely blunt - you can run your finger along the edge and not even get a scratch. — hhhh foreshadowing innit ☹

Not that he particularly goes seeking it. Everyone just wants to be friends with Lister Bird. — and yet he cares most abt getting closer to the two he shouldn't have to try for ☹

David [Tennant] thought she wanted a selfie, when in fact she was just trying to find the nearest toilet. — iconic

'Now, there'd better be some fucking Capri-Suns somewhere around here.' — me @ every function

When they were together they both seemed to stop worrying about everything else in their lives - Rowan was no longer an overworked band boy and Bliss was no longer a struggling student. They were just together. — ☹ justice for laimondi

Then he leans in and presses his lips against mine. Oh. Okay. Fine. This is fine. Can't say I realised this conversa- tion was going in this direction, but fine. — BAD (note: this is all caps, huge, and double underlined)

'But we're gods, Jimmy. What's better than that?' — pain. suffering. agony. heartache. torture, torment, anguish.

Holding it makes me feel real. It reminds me that I was born. That my life is something other than this birdcage I'm trapped in. Isn't it? Isn't it? — has his therapist ever discussed depersonalisation with him?

[angelwishess]

U haven't even reblogged it yet but assuming u will...

37,40 and 42 with all my kids. (NEW FANKID ASK GAMR) ROWAN TOO. DON'T FORGET THE POOR GUY

HWJEHEHE OKAYOKAY 🎀

Questions to the updated Fankid ask game here!!

37. ☹️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What's something they SUCK at doing?

Marven sucks at Origami, actually anything that requires patience and a gentle hand… He just cant sit still and cant be gentle enough to actually do it right 😭

Evelio doesn’t like to try anything he doesn’t think he’d be good at … He has too much pride to ever admit he’s bad at anything HAHAHAHA 😭 But he’d probably suck at board games like Monopoly. I cant explain why, but the board games all hate him. (Alora always wins game night)

Alora sucks at taking care of plants. For some reason, whenever she gets one they die within a week, even when she makes sure and researches on how to care for plants they just ??? Keep dying ???

Rowan sucks at sports. Its not that hes not fit, he very much is because of Jack— but hes a bit too meek. He doesn’t like to cause trouble or get into any problems, so he lacks that assertion and aggression needed when playing sports. And often, he holds himself back far too much and purposefully throws the game just so he can sit it out 😭

40. 👀 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How aware of their surroundings are they? Do they flinch at the smallest noise, or do they sleep through a hurricane?

Marven is a 50/50. There are times where he is quite aware and cautious— but most of the time he’s in his own little Marven world😭 He’s definetly observant of people, but of his surroundings??? Probably not. Hes a little clumsy, not as bad as his mom but definetly clumsy.

Evelio is extremely aware of his surroundings and of people. He makes sure to keep a close eye on everything and everyone, just to make sure he wont be bothered by anything. But if hes asleep?? Oh hes ASLEEP. Sleeping Beauty has some competiton because he DOES NOTT wake up no matter what. He sleeps until his body clock says so. No amount of noise or water or whatever will wake him, it wont even bother him a tiny bit 😭

Alora … Is oblivious 😭 She literally is in her own world, and she doesnt really seem cautious of new people or things. Shes literally just “:D”—ing her way through life and honestly i love her for it

Rowan is EXTREMELY EXTREEMELY aware of his surroundings… He seriously just wants a peaceful life, so the moment he even hears a tiny hint of trouble?? Hes running the other way. But even then, life seems to like playing with him because he STILL gets involved no matter how hard he tries to avoid it.

42. 🏢 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ If they attend NRC, what dorm would they prefer to be in if not their current dorm? If not attending NRC, but another school, do they like their school? Or do they want to transfer to another?

Marven and Evelio don’t care what dorm they’re in as long as they’re in the same one.

Alora wouldn’t change dorms for the world!! A dorm full of ghosts, its her dream come true! Though a close second would be Diasomnia.

Rowan doesn’t want to even be in NRC anymore … Honestly he regretted his decision after the first few weeks of school after seeing his schoolmates (ahem Evelio, Marven, Jane, Lana, Maggie, Binnie…) and he was about to start tweaking out right then and there. Someone save him. Hes gonna overblot.

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 33: berries and exotic blends

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

this chapter contains nsfw content

Rowan and Lana stood by the bed, both trying not to glare at Murmison, who was ‘performing his miracles’ on Ceryse. It was always some variation of the same prayer to the mother every night and everyone but Aenys and Murmison were losing their patience. Ceryse, somehow, managed to mask her hostility with an amazing grace that Rowan admired fiercely. The hand of the King eventually bid them a good night and left, and all three polite smiles immediately dropped. 

“I do not know how much more of this I can put up with. Gods! He is insufferable!” Ceryse sighed as she got up from the bed, crossing her arms. 

“Truly! That thing he said tonight, about asking the mother to forgive you for any shortcomings that could’ve led to this? In what world was any of this your fault?” Rowan added, frowning deeply. She couldn’t believe Aenys thought any of this was actually of any help. He had the absolute privilege of an education people would kill for, and yet he was so easily persuaded by the words of that man. Rowan couldn’t understand it, where was all this charm she heard of? He was just some man.

“In the same world where that creep is hand of the King!” Lana chimed in, looking distraught. Ever since she returned to King’s Landing, she was completely bewildered by everything that she had missed. She had been involved in the narrowing down of her potential matches in Highgarden, and she had been away during the beginning of all this mess. Rowan nodded. 

“I still don’t understand why he was who the King chose. There’s so many other people he could’ve chosen instead.” Rowan added, completely frustrated by the King’s choice in council. Alyn Stokeworth was a good hand, that is before his early death, and surely there could’ve been a lord that could fulfil that role better than Murmison. He had a very creepy air around him. She didn’t like it. None of the three women did, certainly not after all the prayers for this miracle he had promised Aenys.

“Asking him to choose is where you’re going to have issues. I swear, he tells everyone what they want to hear and nothing else.” Ceryse said sarcastically, finally feeling relaxed enough to not speak in the pretty lies of court. She was clearly and rightfully frustrated with the King. He hated to have people angry at him, but this was not a good way to go about it. Rowan thought for a moment.

“Maybe you should talk to him. It’s been enough time of humouring his so-called solution, he’ll have no room to push for this to continue.” she concluded, crossing her arms. Aenys was, despite everything, a kind and loving man, and he was very fond of Ceryse. He was so occupied with everything that perhaps his judgement was not at its clearest, so if Ceryse went to talk to him in private, she’d surely make him see reason. 

“Do you think he’ll actually listen?” Ceryse asked, sounding tired. She looked tired of this whole situation. She had handled it all with so much grace and patience, and she looked like she was running out of both and Rowan could never blame her for it. 

“Yes. Make sure he understands that Murmison is not doing anything to help him or you. That way he’ll have to tell him to stop and hopefully pick someone else to be his hand.” she replied, feeling more sure of herself. Ceryse was smart, Aenys could not deny it, and thus, he’d have to consider how she felt about this strange method and eventually, come to realise how insane it was and apologise for it.

“And mention how creepy he is too.” Lana added, her face distorted to one of disgust. Murmison had an air about him, one that made them all not want to leave any woman alone with him. Lana was much less formal about her distaste of him than Ceryse and Rowan were, and she gave them both that push they needed to start being more assertive about all this. Rowan was happy she was back.

Lana had left for bed, and Rowan was getting ready to wish Ceryse a good night, when Ceryse gave her a warm smile, her annoyance gone for a moment.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” she said softly, gently. Rowan stood still, confused for a second, before looking up at her. She could not deny that everything was difficult for her since Maegor left, and she could only pray that nobody suspected anything, as she did her best to drown herself in work, trying to forget, to distract herself from everything. Ceryse’s gentle blue eyes were not accusing her, but they seemed happy for her.

“What?” Rowan asked, just as softly. “What do you mean?” She already knew what her friend meant. So far, she had been keeping herself so busy in order to distract herself from her heartache and the deep betrayal, but lately, the air felt lighter. She tried to forget about the letter Visenya had given her, tucked away and hidden carefully in one of her many books, but Maegor’s words both stung her and pushed her out of that deep depression she had fallen into. She tried not to think of him too much, a task that was monumental, but easier when she relaxed and trailed the routines she and her father had in King’s Landing.

She wrote to him, to her aunt and uncle, to her cousins, to her family that she missed so deeply, even to her two uncles, who were septons in Oldtown. Her father sounded happy that she was feeling better, his words full of kindness and love, that she wanted to run all the way back to the Evergreen forest and crawl back into her childhood bed where he’d tuck her in and read her stories. But the next best thing was to do what they’d always done together, making themselves useful to those in need. 

“You look a lot less sad these days.” Ceryse smiled again, treading gently with her words, testing to see if Rowan still felt fragile. Rowan was so glad that her dear friend was also interested in helping with the project, as it was a distraction for her as well, from Murmison, from Aenys. 

“Oh… I didn’t know I looked sad.” she furrowed her brows, giving Ceryse an apologetic smile. She didn’t want to be a burden to her friend, not when she had so much on her shoulders. She hoped she came off as more indifferent, as more relaxed, but it seemed that nothing escaped her friend’s careful eyes. Ceryse let out a small laugh.

“Rowan, you know you’re terrible at hiding how you feel. I know you were really affected by what happened, being so close to the Dowager Queen and all. But now, you’re going out more, you’re smiling, you’re laughing, you’re much less… gloomy. That’s good, Rowan, really good.” she said, placing her hands on Rowan’s shoulders. Rowan couldn’t help but smile. Despite how much pain her betrothal to Maegor brought her, she was so happy that she and Ceryse became even closer friends. She cherished her so much.

“Thank you, Ceryse.” Rowan held her hands for a moment, thankful for this moment. It would be better, despite what Maegor did, things would be better. They’d focus on the expansion of the orphanage, then focus on making the city a better place to live. She wouldn't think of Maegor. She’d try to not.

“Are things better with her?” Ceryse asked softly, a look of sympathy in her eyes. Rowan sighed, looking down. She wanted for things to return to how they were with Visenya, when Rowan trusted her more than anyone else, before she shattered that trust, but it would take time. Visenya was apologetic, far more than she’d ever seen her being. She was trying, and for Rowan, it was enough for now.

“I suppose… We just don’t talk about it. We’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. I don’t know…” she trailed a bit. How she wished she could explain to Ceryse all the complexities, all of the unspoken secrets, all of it, to grant her peace of mind, to grant her the truth behind her goodmother’s frosty demeanour, but she could not. 

“As long as she’s not causing more trouble.” Ceryse sighed in turn. 

“Yes, I don’t think Aenys can handle anything more on his shoulders.” Rowan said lightly. She worried about Aenys. She hated to see how sick with worry he was, how much everything affected him deeply. She promised herself she’d help. She wanted him to stand on his own, to understand that if he tried, he could keep things peaceful, even if it would take a lot of work. She wanted to yell at Maegor, to call him a fool for leaving his brother all alone with everything. Ceryse’s face turned serious at that moment, making Rowan pause.

“I feel it, something is going to happen. For everyone’s sake, I hope he’s prepared.” she said softly. Rowan felt it too, but she tried to rationalise it as anxiety and that Visenya would not let something bad happen to everyone, but she still felt it.

The next morning, Rowan had prepared the detailed plans for the expansion of the orphanage to give to Aenys. She knew he was drowning in everything wrong with the kingdoms, so it would be nice to make him feel like he was helping with something good, even though he wasn’t really doing anything to contribute. Everything was taking a toll on him and it worried Rowan. 

She walked toward the King’s solar, hoping that he wasn’t too busy this early in the morning, but as she got closer to the door, she saw Ceryse storm out of there, with Aenys calling after her. Rowan was left stunned, wanting to run after her friend, but she had gone in the opposite direction, toward her rooms. The King came to the door, looking bewildered, before his gaze landed on her. 

“Lady Rowan! Would you happen to have a moment?” he asked, his big, lilac eyes pleading for help. She fought the urge to run after Ceryse, and nodded.

“I was actually coming to see you, your grace.” she said politely and formally, as the guards seemed bewildered by the encounter between the King and his goodsister. 

“Good, good,” Aenys sighed and entered the room once more, “come in.” he said, motioning for her to follow. Rowan did so quickly, reminding herself that she shouldn’t rush this meeting, no matter how much she wanted to. She was now filled with worry about what occurred just moments ago in that very room. She watched him as he paced around the desk, pure confusion in his eyes.

“What happened?” she asked him gently, trying to get to the bottom of it all, although she knew that Ceryse would be the one to give her the whole truth of the matter, she still wished to talk Aenys through it as well.

“I don’t know! She just stormed out, after telling me she’s leaving for Oldtown!” he said, confused and a tad frustrated. Rowan’s eyes widened, her words gone from her tongue. Ceryse was leaving? Why? Why was she leaving when she had been so determined to stay and not give her position up?

“Did she not come to speak to you about Murmison?” Rowan asked, regaining her composure, gripping the leatherbound book in her hands. She did not wish to jump to conclusions, for she knew it was wrong, but it was now easy to see what happened, when Aenys looked down, defeated.

“Yes, that’s what she started the conversation with.” he said, opening his mouth to speak again, but closing it, regretting his decision. He seemed to understand that he had messed up, with whatever followed.

“And how did you respond?” she asked, patiently waiting for him to speak, urging him gently. Aenys seemed unsure of his own words, like he often did. Sometimes, she thought he spoke them more so to convince himself of their truth. 

“I told her that his methods may be strange, but in the end they’ll prove fruitful! So many people vouch for him!” he said, now sounding more frustrated. Rowan frowned. She felt a deep sense of disappointment that he continued to be so blind and naive, so much so that he was driving his goodsister away, the one person who could truly help him with the alliance she brought to his house.

“And have you met any of these people?” she asked, her tone less gentle, but still soft. She needed him to see, to understand. There was no person that came forward and claim that Murmison truly healed them, only the words of others who had seen him do it, as they claimed. But this could all be a lie. “Do you know how uncomfortable it is? To have to lay there while an old man is praying over you to ‘fix’ you? There’s no way of knowing that any of his ‘miracles’ actually work, let alone knowing that this is Ceryse’s ‘shortcoming’ in the first place. I don’t understand why you believe in the word of this man so much!” she said, and with each word, she had to remember to remain calm. The anger she felt was for Ceryse’s behalf, for the failure of the two men to keep her safe. Aenys seemed to freeze for a moment.

“He… he said he could fix things. I thought…” his voice was soft, thin, ashamed. It gave Rowan the hope that he was finally seeing reason. She walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder gently, before speaking up again.

“Aenys…” she spoke softly again. “There’s no magic solution to fix everything. And I can guarantee to you, the last person to fix things for you is Murmison.” she said, trying to urge him gently toward a different decision, a better one. At this point, anyone could be a better hand for him. “I know everything feels impossible, like there’s no right choice to make, but I’m sure if you try, you’ll pull through.” she assured him, trying to cheer him up a bit.

“Thank you…” he sighed, looking away for a moment. “There’s… there’s something that I think will help.” he said after some time, like he was deciding to let her in on a secret.

“What’s that?” she asked. It made Rowan nervous, worried that he had fallen for the pressures and whims of some lords that took advantage of his kindness. Aenys smiled slightly, standing up straight.

“Aegon and Rhaena will wed at the end of the year. A celebration and a royal progress, they’ll bring joy to the realm, help calm things down, don’t you think?” he asked, looking at her with pleading eyes, like he was asking for her to agree with him, to tell him he’s right for once. But Rowan stood in shock. “You don’t think so?” he asked, disappointed. 

Rowan tried to pull herself out of the shock and disgust she felt, he was still her King, and more than that, he was becoming a friend. She chose her words carefully.

“I… it’s just that… they’re both so young, Aenys, they’re still children.” she said softly, trying to bring herself to sound calm. In truth, she was horrified, mostly for Aegon and Rhaena, two young children, forced to marry a sibling? Gods, the poor dears. But what could she say? 

“Well, both Alyssa and I were around their age when we were wed. They get along so well, it’s a great match!” Aenys sensed her worry, and placed his hand on her shoulder in turn. He seemed so happy in his decision, the first time in a long time, and she felt a bit of guilt that she had to say what she had to. She took a deep breath.

“Aenys… The faith is already not on the best terms with the crown, not after Maegor defied them so openly. Maybe… maybe you should wait. Try to smooth things over with the High Septon, and Ceryse, first and foremost.” she said gently, softly, trying to tell him that this would be a disaster. Marrying a cousin, a distant one, was not uncommon, as the couple would be raised apart, but this? To have to marry someone in their own close family?

“You… you don’t approve of the match.” Aenys’ smile faltered, disappointed that Rowan was not happy. He looked away for a moment, contemplating something. Had he been relying on Rowan’s support? Did he tell Visenya and she didn’t give him the reaction he wanted, so he searched for it in Rowan?

“How I feel is irrelevant. But how the faith will react matters.” she said, speaking more plainly now. She had to think of Rhaena and Aegon, how they’d be feeling about this. Did they not dread it? Then again, they were not raised into normal family dynamics, who knows how they’d taken the news?

“They’ll see reason, Rowan, don’t worry. Targaryens are not the same as everyone else.” Aenys sounded more calm now, strangely calm. Who was feeding him such lies? His father was always careful with the faith, and Maegor’s actions were proof of what defying them did.

“I… Aenys… I don’t think it’s a wise choice. At least not at the moment.” she repeated. At least if he waited, if he mended things, if he got the High Septon on his side, maybe it wouldn’t be a bloodbath, but now? Now as things were this tense? Aenys did not share her worries, for what seemed to be the first time. Instead he had a look in his eye that she couldn’t quite read.

“I understand that it’s difficult for everyone to see the reason behind our traditions, but it is my duty to uphold them. It was something my father and I discussed when they were young.” he said. He sounded sad. He clearly missed his father, but it surprised Rowan that this was the Conqueror’s wish, to see his grandchildren wed to each other. Especially when he knew what kind of backlash this would cause. It was strange that he did so little to ease the realm into such actions. She decided that the Conqueror was not always the brightest man.

“I understand that, but things are fragile right now, you know this. There’s still time for them, they’re still so young, you can find the time to win over the people again before making a decision that will be so divisive.” she said, still hopeful that she could get him to understand, to get him to not do this, to prevent disaster. 

“Divisive?” he asked, appearing surprised, if not a bit offended that Rowan just called their incestious traditions divisive. She looked at him, praying silently to the crone, to help guide her to make the right choice, to use the right words.

“Yes. Surely, you can see that, Aenys.” she said gently, trying to get him to see her side, or better yet, everyone else’s side. She was never truly alright with Aegon and Rhaenys and Visenya, as it always felt so wrong, so bad, so unnatural. Even more when she got close to Visenya and truly saw and understood how bad it truly was, despite her love for him. She prayed that a similar fate wouldn’t meet the young Princess and Prince. So far, Rhaena was playing with puppies and horses, and flying with Dreamfyre, and Aegon was making friends around the castle. She couldn’t imagine them in such a situation. They should be left alone, allowed their childhoods without this mess that could fall upon them.

“Perhaps we should talk another time.” Aenys said, sounding very distant. Rowan could not tell if she got through to him, but her intuition told her she had not. He was merely disappointed that she didn’t see his vision of the future, an optimistic and naive vision. She frowned.

“I understand.” she said softly, as she left the room, her book still unopened. She was supposed to discuss the plans with him, to perhaps get him to leave the castle, to show the people that the King cared about them and their wellbeing. But instead, she feared disaster was coming. She needed to talk to Visenya. Surely she’d know what to do.

But first, she hurried down the halls, passing the many unfinished rooms and half built walls, to reach Ceryse’s room. She wanted to see her, to ask her why she wished to leave. If she could get Aenys to talk to both of them, surely they’d manage to be rid of Murmison’s ‘treatments’. At her door, she found Morgan, who was deep in thought, before her footsteps alerted him to the presence of someone, causing him to reach for his sword, only to be relieved to see it was just Rowan. 

“I’ve come to see how she is, she was so angry when I saw her storm off.” she told him, looking between him and the door. He seemed worried as well, but he did a much better job than Rowan in keeping it calm. Morgan nodded.

“She’s packing her things. She said she wanted to be alone for a bit.” he said softly, looking down at her. Rowan frowned. Ceryse was truly determined to leave King’s Landing. She looked down for a moment. Would she be selfish to ask her to stay, to change her mind? She was the wife, the only rightful wife of the Prince of Dragonstone, she had a place in the capital, her voice was supposed to be heard here, she was the light of Oldtown, the one that was to build the bridge between crown and faith, and yet Aenys was failing her, running her out of her new home, despite it not being his intention, and then he was planning to perform a marriage of pure sin between his two children. Would Ceryse’s presence here even help? If anything, Aenys might even pressure her to speak in support of this, risking a rift between her and her own family and faith. Perhaps it would be best if she returned home, at least to avoid the storm that was coming.

“I understand. I’ll check on her later.” she nodded, turning to leave. She wanted to speak to Visenya, to get her to speak to Aenys, this time with her there to mediate, to keep them both calm, to find a way out of this mess. 

“Wait!” Morgan called after her, taking her hand in his. He looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was there to listen. “I know you’re in the Dowager Queen’s service, but do you really wish to remain here?” he asked her, looking into her eyes. Rowan was at a loss for words for the second time this morning. 

“What do you mean?” she asked without thinking. 

“I mean… What future could you have in this city? Sooner or later, chaos will ensue if things do not change. You should come to Oldtown. It’s safe, stable, closer to your home, your family. I know you miss them all dearly.” Morgan said, his voice gentle and warm. He could sense it too, even without knowing, he felt the danger. He was a kind man, someone she was glad she met, and even more glad to know he was devoted to protecting his sister. 

“My lord… I cannot just leave…” she replied softly, barely above a whisper. She loved Visenya. She had been there for her when her true mother could not, she was in almost every sense of the word, a mother to her. She could not leave her, to abandon her, even if she was beyond hurt and barely now healing. No, she could not do it.

“Consider it an invitation. Our fathers have not seen each other in some time, I’m sure they’d love to catch up. Oldtown is where your house sells most of the wood is it not? I know Ceryse would love to have you there… as would I.” he said, holding her hand so tenderly. Rowan stood there, surprised at how forward, yet formal, he was being. Ceryse had made some comments about how fond of her he was, but Rowan was too distracted by her hurt to truly notice, to truly give it proper thought. She was flattered, yet her heart stung, as it belonged to another man, one that was far off to Pentos.

“Morgan… I don’t know… I would love to visit, believe me I do, but I cannot abandon my duties here.” she said, placing her hand on his, as he held her other hand. It was the truth. She loved their company, and she loved Oldtown, it was no lie. And Morgan was kind and chivalrous and sometimes even sweet. She felt so much guilt again. Here was a man, a knight, who was subtly making his affections for her known, and her stubborn, loyal and hurt heart felt as though she was betraying Maegor and herself. Thankfully, Morgan did not give her much time to dwell on her sadness. 

“Perhaps if she gave you a few moons to relax? Surely, if your father asks her to, she will not deny it. They’re close friends, are they not?” he asked. Rowan supposed it wouldn’t do much harm, a moon or two. But it was still risky. She wanted to be here for the project, she wanted to make sure Aenys had someone to talk to, she wanted to remain by Visenya’s side. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wish to run away at times. 

“I…” she trailed, unsure of her own words. “I’ll write to him. But I cannot know for sure. Things are so unstable, and I can only fear for the worst lately.” she admitted, giving Morgan an apologetic smile. 

“You and I both.” he chuckled lightly, looking down for a moment. “But please, consider it. We’d all love to have you.” he said gently, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And your father as well, of course.” he added quickly, trying to not be so obvious, let alone when his sister was in distress. Rowan couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I’m flattered, Morgan.” she said, feeling a bit better. 

Maegor felt another headache coming in. He had made himself some chamomile, recreating all the steps Rowan would take when she’d make him some. It was like he was becoming even more lovesick by the day. He could not help it. He only dreamt of her at night, and even in the day and yet, he drowned in guilt even more. He read the letter his mother had sent him, the cause of the headache.

‘Your brother plans to wed his eldest two by the end of the year. With how tense things are, I want you to be ready to step in. I doubt he can handle what will come, he will surely rebuke his own order of exile and beg for you to return. Make sure you and Balerion are ready. I want you ro return, looking like the King you were always meant to be.’

His chest puffed up in pride, knowing that his mother believed in him so fiercely. With everything they had planned coming closer and closer to fruition, he couldn’t help but feel a buzz of energy for it all. He had been spending all his free time training, fighting like a beast, readying himself to be a warrior like no other. He wanted to be the strongest, the most powerful, the one that could protect the people he loved the most, his mother and his Rowan. He wanted to see her again so badly, it hurt. 

‘I know you will ask, and she is doing well. I gave her your letter, and she’s kept it. Her moods are lifted, and your brother puts a lot of trust in her. She has been getting involved with the people of the city, having plans to make it better, more livable, as she says.’

His heart welled up with pride. Oh, his darling, she kept his letter and did not tear it to shreds! He was glad, so glad that she was better, that she was her old self again. Of course his sweet girl would want to help, she always did, and now she had the chance. He wanted to tell her to just wait for him to return, to claim the throne and crown, and she could do upon the city as she wished. There was no one he’d ever trust more, aside of his mother. He was relieved she was happy again. He selfishly wanted to believe that his words of love had something to do with it.

‘Your wife has left King’s Landing for Oldtown, along with her brothers. She’s had a falling out with your brother. It was his fault. He listens to the fool he has made his hand.’

He frowned. Aenys and Ceryse had always gotten along, how in the world did he manage to make her lose her temper? He wished his mother had written more. Maybe it would be easier that Ceryse would not be there when he returned. It could give him time to sort everything out, and then seek her out to explain. She’d see reason, he knew it.

It was always an unwritten, unspoken expectation and reminder with his mother, the need for an heir, a son. Things were falling apart quickly under the rule of his brother, which only meant his time was coming to take the crown for himself. If he could not have a son by then, he could at least have Alys expecting one. 

He sighed. Even from his room, he could hear her and Tyanna laughing. It annoyed him, it distracted him from the anticipation of any news from his mother, but now that the letter was read over and over again, he locked it away. 

Tyanna was a strange woman. A beauty, yes, but she had an air around her, her black eyes seeming to know so much, but she would not outright say so. Alys was completely enamoured by her, fawning over her, laughing at even the most unfunny joke, hanging by her every word. It was a bit pathetic, but then again, he knew he wasn’t one to talk. It annoyed him how easily Alys had accepted her into her chambers, after she had barely known her, avoiding any sense in her brain. 

Unlike Alys, Tyanna seemed to prefer the chase. She clearly liked having Alys fawning over her, trying to impress her and Maegor was almost certain that she might actually have some affections for Alys as well. He would never care to know any of this, had Alys not dragged Tyanna into his room, on more than one occasion, in order to get all three of them ‘closer’. He did not understand, since Alys was clearly so enamoured with her, why she’d want her in the room while they performed their marital duties in hopes of an heir, let alone want her to join in. 

To her credit, Tyanna refused almost gracefully, for someone of her station. She did however, slowly win Maegor’s grace, for her vast knowledge. She had given them foods, berries and jouiced pomegranates, and teas to make their coupling more intense. Maegor just suspected that she was a common whore that charmed Alys, but she was more than that. She had tools he could use when he returned as King. 

Eventually, after Alys’ annoying pleading, he relented and allowed Tyanna to join in his chambers. It was awkward at first, as Alys was trying to impress Tyanna, Maegor was trying to chase a dream of his love, and Tyanna was testing the waters. They figured it out soon enough, with Tyanna focusing entirely on Alys, taking great pleasure in preparing her, giving her foods and teas to enhance her fertility, her chances of giving him an heir, and of course, in giving her pleasure. 

He was more than happy to let them take care of each other, as it gave him one less thing to care about, as selfish as he was, but Tyanna had more suggestions. She had insisted she knew how to make this even better for him, which he highly doubted, as his idea of perfection was untouchable, but he humoured her. She had him sit up on the bed, while she and Alys took turns stroking and licking him. He could not decide if he hated it. He could not imagine Rowan like this, he could not smell the jasmine, he could not escape into his dream. It wasn’t like it felt bad, but it wasn’t what he preferred. He made a note to stop them after this and tell them he didn’t care for it, but for now, they seemed to want to give him a show.

His mind however, was not occupied by the two women that pretended to compete for his attention on their knees. No, it was in the same place it always was in moments like these, to Rowan. His mind went to her and he was angry again, at the thought of that pathetic Lannister finding any excuse to touch her, be it by kissing the back of her hand or offering his elbow to her for a stroll. He’d kill him if he saw him again, he vowed it. He’d tear him limb from limb and he’d make sure he’d be awake to still torture while he lied there helpless.

He then wondered, would Rowan think the same? Did she also want to kill Alys when she heard the news and he ran like a coward. A far more twisted thought came to mind… would she kill for him? Would his darling kill the two women in front of him right now? He knew she’d never hurt a fly, she was too kind for her own good, but gods be good, she’d look so pretty covered in blood just for him. He wondered how she’d do it, a knife, an axe, a sword? He’d give her Blackfyre, if she could lift it. Perhaps he’d help her, hold his hands over hers while they took the fatal swing together and perhaps she’d let him kiss her while she’s covered in the blood of the two corpses on the floor.

He could see it vividly, far more vividly than Alys and Tyanna, who were generously giving him a show. But that was always how it was with sex. With Ceryse, it wasn’t too vivid, it was a routine, a chore that both needed to participate in and neither wanted to truly be there. But with Alys, his mind could go wild. Her hair was almost the right colour, almost just as curly, her skin tone almost the right warmth, her honey brown eyes almost green if the room was dark enough. Almost was enough for him to pretend quite vividly, and with Tyanna’s aphrodisiacs, sex could be enjoyable, if he could picture his Rowan enough. He didn’t like the thought of her joining in at first, but her blends proved helpful, and Alys was having her fun. If they were all using each other, they could at least find pleasure in it.

It was sick and cruel and he knew it, but Alys didn’t, and if she did, he didn’t care. When he got her the hair oils that smelled like jasmines, the silk nightgowns in green, the honey he made her lick off a spoon before she kissed him, it was wrong and deep down he knew how twisted it was. But he still didn’t care. He loved to take her from the back, to not look at her face, and have her hair all curled up, the candlelight adding that red warmth to the strands that made the fantasy almost perfect. He loved to have her like that, so he could grab her hair, with the same hand the precious ring was on, and smell the jasmine and pretend it was his darling bouncing beneath him. It was selfish, to use her like a placeholder doll, far more selfish than what he did with Ceryse. Alys was certainly enjoying herself, but he thought she was enjoying what Tyanna was doing to her much more. It didn’t bother him, she could have her fun too, since he was already using her so blatantly, why not allow her this pleasure? 

Every night they visited his chambers, it came close to perfect, if he wasn’t so ready to pick them both apart. He never said anything out loud, for even he wasn’t that cruel, but it was obvious to both women that he was never truly satisfied with them. Alys would pout at first, before deciding that it was just the way he was and ignoring it, but Tyanna was not one to let things go, not when it was of potential benefit to her.

It was clear what she wanted. Power. He could give it to her, he took her from being a tavern dancer that worked for food and shelter, to a courtesan, because even if he was exiled, he was still a prince with massive wealth. He was no fool, he could see right through her false smiles and fake politeness. She was just like him, hungry. For power, wealth, for more. Many shared such ambitions, he didn’t blame them for trying to come close, but unlike most of the women willing to sell themselves for it, she had more to offer. Promises and potions for what he was so desperate for, an heir. She was a witch and did little to hide it. In Westeros, she would’ve been dead the second she said it out loud, but here in Pentos, she had the freedom she needed to grow her talent.

She’d make a useful ally to have. And if she proved herself, if Alys did indeed give him an heir, he’d have her with him once his brother grew a spine or his five years passed. She seemed content with having his ear, being his mistress, but he knew she’d want more. The question was if she was worth it.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[questionable-chnt-hc]

someone makes the mistake of letting juniper find out what the love languages are, however, they don’t clarify how bullshit they are too. and also it’s juniper. so he 1) won’t shut the fuck up about them 2) unintentionally uses them as a manipulative tactic to avoid changing his occasionally hurtful behavior

or so that is until one time rowan’s patience runs out and i imagine he points something out and juniper says “ah but my love language says that i cannot—” and rowan doesn’t even in engage in a conversation, he just makes eye contact almost as intense as the sky at exactly ten past noon. so intense that it makes rowan pause his sentence.

apparently if you just stare at juniper, he can’t actually change the subject! and he also learns to stop labelling basic requirement of his jobs as acts of service

Juniper: my love language-

Rowan:

[chaoticcutiewhirl]

Oh yeah uh-

Probably shouldn't make this post with only half approval but this is Tumblr, we can be trashfires here for the bit: We realized we are plural which honestly explains a lot in our way of having rapid mood changes and generally very different demeanors at times. To give a run down:

Ava/Avarstia Sylvia S. - The Host, She/Her, Aceflux Lesbian, also Very much a Lamia Otherkin. Same age as body (20)

Lucinda - She/her, Pan Lesbian(?), Bunny >:3 (Also in control currently), and also I may be 18 or 19, idk but I know I feel a little bit younger than the body

Avarstia F. - She/Her, Lesbian (Taken), Half-Demoness/Death Goddess, Fictive Introject (From book Sylvia is writing)... She is atleast 700 given the memories that came with her

Rowan - She/They/?, Undecided, Something Folkloric, she is still getting used to being seperate and has been struggling so she is still not fully understanding what she is beyond knowing we share the same body and are all sort of on the same level. Also Age is fairly unknown but is likely older than the body, unknown as to how much older however.

I will also say there could be more but we only know about the 4 of us so far, and still are figuring out the whole system thing as we may have been unknowingly split for anywhere from a month to 5 or 6 years and only now realizing. We are still not wholly ready to seek a Psychiatrist as because already due to the body's chronic illnesses we have enough patience with doctors spent so we do not need that stress more before getting HRT. After HRT will probably see us on that arduous journey however

[fakescenarios-tohelpyousleep]

False Confidence| Peter Parker (prologue)

Prologue| you’re split and uneven, you’re hands to the sky

summary| who would've thought that the falling apart of the only family Rowan Stark has ever known would lead to her meeting a soulmate of sorts, peter parker

Rowan Stark portrayed by Emma Myers

He has 36 hours. 2,160 minutes to get away before the government starts searching for him. 129,000 seconds he only has to deal with the wrath of Ironman and the team he has created to take Captain America down. "Dad, stop! Think about this before you go and hurt him!" I followed him to his lab. He's just returned from who knows where and is currently on his way to pack to fly to Germany in order to stop his friend Steve... At least, I thought they were friends. I thought Steve and I were friends, however, that thought fizzled the second he left without a goodbye on my end.

Dad wasn't in the mood to deal with me at the moment. His team hadn't followed his orders and now the government is putting pressure on him to stop his old teammate. His patience was running out... It has been for a while now. He's been nothing but patient this past year, but I and Steve combine left it running thin. He knew I saw Steve as almost an uncle, a part of the family that I never really had outside of himself, Happy and Pepper... before Pepper left us both. "Rowan, stop it! I have to do this. It's either I go after him or the government does and I don't think you'd want that, cause I sure as hell don't." "If you get in his way he won't finish what he's trying to do and then the government will go after him, you're helping them!" "If he does this he'll be a public enemy! He already is!" I throw myself in front of him as we reach the lab door, I push myself against it, blocking him from entering. "Rowan Maria Stark! That's enough!" He finally snaps and at my reaction of flinching he sighs, taking a moment before speaking again.. Gathering his thoughts. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I'm trying to get our family back." Tears begin to brim at his wording... our family. He sighs again, placing his hands on my shoulders as he moves me from the doorway of the lab. "I'm coming with you!" I follow him inside and he snaps his head towards me. "No, no you're not." I bet he was remembering the battle of Sokovia, the battle that caused all of this. And I bet he's remembering the absolute living hell we've lived through during the aftermath. "You're both wrong, you know?" I change the subject, because I'm not fighting over going to Germany. I am going, but he needs to know I am not with him nor against him. "You both make good points, but no one will ever win if you battle each other." He shook his head, looking down. Not wanting to see the all too familiar sight of his daughter crying. "I've tried to reason, but he betrayed us the second he signed." "Maybe he's so stubborn because Bucky isn't the man you're looking for!" "Get ready... we have a trip to Germany to take care of."

_

Something was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty. Steve stood alone, but I knew he wasn't that stupid. He was waiting. Dad spoke and Steve kept looking at me, not him. He looked betrayed, I was standing in front of him and not beside him. But I couldn't stand beside him... for mupltity reasons. Standing besides him meant betraying my father... the only blood family I've ever had and standing beside him also meant being on the same team as a man who I could never forgive for as long as I kept breathing. "Okay, I've run out of patience." Dad rolled his eyes bringing his hands up to his mouth. "Underoos!" He called and out of nowhere behind Steve, a person came flying over all of our heads shooting webs, stealing Cap's shelf and tying his hands together in the process. It landed upon a structure behind us. I recognized the thing almost immediately. Spiderman. A new superhero from Queens. More specifically, a friendly neighborhood superhero from Queens. Only now, he's wearing a real suit, a suite that I notice right away. A suite I helped make. "Nice job, kid." Dad congratulated him almost coldly and for the first time, I heard his voice. "Thanks, well, I could've stuck the landing a little better, it's just a new suit. Well, it's nothing Mr. Stark it's perfect, thank you." He rambled, from his voice I could tell he was a teenager. "We really don't have to start a conversation." He spoke to him and glanced at me. He could see the anger in my face. He secretly had me help make a suite for a new hero that would fight against Steve. Low blow father, real low blow. "This is what the suit was for?" I yell pointing towards the little bugboy that sat behind us. "Cap... Captain big fan." It was like I didn't even yell, he was so starstruck with Steve. "Later kid." Offense washed over my face as he turned back to Steve... he called me kid just as he did with Spiderman. How dare he. "You've kept busy." When Steve spoke he was calm and that pissed dad off even farther. "And you've been a complete idiot! Dragging in Clint and recusing Wanda!" I flinch, nailing digging into my palms at the mention of his name. "I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart-" He looked over at me, fists clenched, staring down at my shoes in an attempt to hold it together in front of everyone including King T'Challa and the random bug-teen from Queens. "You did that when you signed." Steve replied just as dad had earlier. "All right, I'm done!" Dad has snapped once again, no more playing nice. "You're gonna burn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us now because it's us or a squad of JSOC guys with no compunction about being impolite." He wasn't asking anymore, he was demanding. Steve stopped, thinking. "Come on." I heard dad whisper. "Please Steve." I mumble to myself. Suddenly I felt the air change... the fight was about to begin. My eyes snap to the north runaway and almost as if I suddenly possessed Spiderman's senses, I knew the Quinjets were in there and Steve was about to make a run for it. "Steve, no!" I screamed but it was too late. An arrow came flying through the air and cut the webs from Steve's hands. Suddenly Spiderman flew off the structure and another man in a metal suit was suddenly standing next to Cap with his shield. "Barnes is mine!" I hear T'Challa yell. T'Challa wants Bucky dead, I can't let that happen, not to Steve. I bolted in the direction T'Challa was running in. "Mr. Stark, what do I do?" His voice ran through the earpiece father gave me before arriving at the airport. "What we discussed, keep your distance and web them up." Dad spoke in a rush. "Rowan, get out of here now!" I wasn't listening though. "Spiderboy, don't listen to him. They'll kill you just get away." His and Dad's voice came blasting into my ear but I couldn't hear them, I chose not to.

Cap threw his shield hitting T'Challa in the back, who then fell and rolled back to his feet... only to be thrown again by Captain one more time. "Move captain, I won't ask a second time." Steve was about to strike again. T'Challa jumped about to kick Steve but he didn't get the chance because a fireball, which I created with my own two hands, threw Steve off his feet and let T'Challa land on his feet. I came from the darkness and he looked at me. "Go, Rogers is mine." It's a blank statement, but it's all it takes for T'challa to stand and run off towards his target. I look over, and Steve is jumping back to his feet. It was him vs I. "What do you think you're doing?" He threw his shield at me, but I teleported behind him before it could hit. I jumped on his back, pinning him to the ground after wrestling him. "I'm being the bigger person between a 100-year-old man and my own father!" I hear glass break and I look up to the terminal and Spiderman is crawling inside to face off against Barnes and Sam... this can't end well.

I abandon Steve as I teleport inside, pressing my back against a pole until Spiderman comes flying by along with Falcon. I run and throw fire, meaning to burn the web connecting him to Sam but I miss and hit the boy's hand instead. He yells out in pain, falling onto the floor. I gasp, running over, kneeling by his side. I look up and see Sam standing beside a glass railing, he is chuckling as Bucky joins his side. "Thanks, Stark." I give both of them a stare of death before they go flying backwards both crashing through the railing landing on the floor below us. "What the hell was that for?!" Spiderman finally spoke, his voice high pitched because of the pain. "Sorry I was trying to keep you from getting killed!" I looked down at his hand, the suit was scorched. "Note to self, make the next one fireproof."

At that moment Peter was in so much pain due to the fire that she threw at him, however he could only think one thing. Rowan Stark was the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. She had long dark brown hair, much like her father. It was so long that Peter didn't know if she ever even cut it. The hair had strips of unnatural red running through it. Her eyes were one of the only things that set her apart from her father, as his eyes were brown and hers were blue with some hints of green. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days, little did he know that time frame was probably weeks. Finally he took notice of her arms, they looked as if she stuck her arms in ashes and only wiped some of it off, her arms were black in spots and he didn't think it was semi permanent.

"Listen to me, if you're going to be stupid and try to face off with Cap. Do one thing." He nods, snapping out of whatever state he was in. "Go for his legs." I state before teleporting back outside. "Over there!" I hear a voice and soon spot Cap and his ragtag team rushing in a single direction. The quinjet, and in the moment I teleport to his side and run with him. His arm slams in front of me as a laser bursts in front of us, creating a line... Vision and in seconds Dad and his team were standing opposite of us... I was against him at this moment. I steady my feet again as Steve's arm stopped me from getting blasted. I look to my side, at Steve and he's looking at me. He feels forgien, not like the man that was practically an uncle these past few years. I hold onto him tightly, as I feel him and the memory of who he was slip away. "I'm here with you." I hear him say and for a second, I think I'm going to fight with him, then I look to my other side. Standing in all black was him. Clint Barton. Hawkeye. The reason he was dead. The reason I have no one. The reason I am who I am today and not in a goodway. "Steve, I can't." Tears come again as I nearly buckle under the wait of grief, but Steve is there to hold me, like he always is. "Y/N-" I shake my head as he tries to reason. "I can't be on the same side as him, I can't." I drop to my knees, I choose this move as I press my forehead into the ground below me. I'm out of this fight. "Leave her." I hear dad's voice and I am suddenly left out. "What do we do now?" I hear someone say. "We fight." And my fists clench once more, hands heating up as I feel Steve's team run pass me, and I let them.

"Hey- ouch- Hey!" I don't know how much time has passed or how long I've been kneeling on the ground, however for the first time in that long time I hear something. A voice. Spider Man's voice. I finally come up and spot him across the airport, on the ground, unmasked. No one else is to be seen as I look around. "Hey! Come here!" Without a second thought I stand and move towards him, joining him on the ground. "Mr. Stark told me to wait here, I figured I'd have some company." I just nod, not having the energy to ask or hear where my father and the others were. "I'm Peter, by the way, Peter Parker." "Rowan, Rowan Stark." I flinch at the feeling of his suited hand grabbing my burned one. "It's all going to be okay."

[bxtsence]

💥 COLLISON, 🕷️ SPIDER, 🔫 PISTOL, 🚆 TRAIN - for all of your muses :)

OC emoji asks!

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Rowan struggles with showing positive emotions, in the sense that he holds back from demonstrating things such as laughter or smiles. He does smirk, but the expression is reserved for when he’s being sneaky or amused by someone else’s misfortune. He’s capable of expressing true happiness, but he has a difficult time doing so and often keeps to his stoic looks. He also has a hard time crying, and will try his best to make sure that no one is watching when he is upset enough to do so.

Viridian has a challenge dealing with anxiety, not in the sense to being prone to panic attacks, but in the sense that she always has an underlying sense of it whenever she’s doing something. It’s something that keeps her mind moving, making her careful in watching every move she makes (so she doesn’t fall over), in everything she says (so she doesn’t mess up and have someone think she’s weird), and even when it comes to stuff like sleeping. She has a had time falling asleep just because her mind is always running quickly and worrying about what she may have done wrong during the day, and worrying about what’s to follow.

Nik has a difficult time dealing with boredom. He has to be doing something or else he’ll start tapping his leg and try and figure out something to do. He’s patient when it comes to others making mistakes, but patience in waiting? Heck no. He’s gotta at least have someone to talk to if he’s just gonna stand around doing nothing but converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. Also, Nik may not seem like the person, but he will cry when it comes to movies where children are being mistreated by their families or when dogs die.

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Rowan's biggest fear is that his childhood will come back to haunt him and his family. He just wishes to live in peace, and has always had a habit of being hypervigilant just in case anything were to happen to him or them. He also has a fear of clowns. They’re hideous and creepy.

Nik's biggest fear is that of losing everything he had worked and dreamed towards, or seeing something that makes him completely lose it. He's gotten so used to seeing the horrors of humanity and death when it comes to his job and will joke about it, but in the back of his head, he always has this one particular thought: "What if the day finally comes that I see something so heartbreaking that I finally lose it?" As for irrational fears-- Nope. It's very hard to scare the guy and he doesn't get grossed out by anything.

Viridian's biggest fear is that of being alone and forgotten by everyone else. Despite not making any effort to be the center of attention besides her bright clothing style, she always worries about what others think-- and worries that they'll lose interest in her or ignore her for the rest of her life. She's also worried about being too clingy and putting people off from wanting to be around her. She gets nervous around porcelain dolls and maggots if those count as irrational fears.

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

Rowan is definitely not one to trust people easily. He’ll still be polite even if he doesn’t know the person, but he’ll constantly be on guard, watching to see if they’re going to do something. He is always suspicious of others, especially if he has enough reason to believe that they may be a stand user. It’s easy for him to turn his back on someone if he doesn’t like them. The only people he refuses to turn his back on are Nik and Viridian. Other people are fair game when it comes to betraying them, especially if it conflicts with his own personal code. As far as being backstabbed goes, there’s no major occurrences except that time a one night stand stole his wallet.

Nik doesn’t trust people easily. Fortunately, he’s very perceptive of others and can usually tell what their main agendas are. Thanks to growing up where he was always the new kid and had to be ready to defend himself, and having a job where seconds could mean the difference between life and death for people in danger, or when people could be potentially lying about their health, he can read people like a book. He will NOT turn his back on the people that he cares about, which is easy for him because there’s really only a few people that he cares about— which is his brother, Rowan, Viridian, and his mother. He has been backstabbed by his father in his childhood, so he definitely does not trust that person.

Viridian is more prone to trusting people easily, thanks to wanting to see the potential for good in everyone and wanting to try her best to be nice to them. She herself isn’t aware of how much she tends to trust people easily, even if she tries to be safe. However, she does tend to try her best and have common sense when it comes to going out to concerts and interacting with strangers. She’s had her fair share of creepy guys trying to go up to her, unfortunately, and will usually try and use the excuse of having to go to the bathroom so they avoid her. She’s not the type to easily turn her back on someone. She has been betrayed before, in the sense that a guy she really liked was only going out with her just because he wanted to have sex with a goth and she refused. He ended up dumping her. She may or may not betray someone, in the sense that she’s always going to try and do the “right” thing, whatever that may be.

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

[ ☣ ] - ❝ I'll have my stand go and untie the five people, while I go to the person and help them get out of the way so no one gets hurt! ❞

[ ☠ ] - ❝ If I had just come on the scene and I had no idea what the hell is going on, I'm gonna go with pulling the lever. Gotta work with the highest chances of survival to save as many people as I possibly can by myself, and then I'll work my way down from there. That being said: who the fuck tied up those people and put them there in the first place!? ❞

[ ✞ ] - ❝ Human life is priceless. You cannot compare it in terms of value. The trolley problem is a loaded question that forces the person to choose between making the choice to purposely kill one individual, or doing nothing at all, thus causing the death of five. Imagine the aftermath of it all, especially if the friends or family members were to find out what I had or hadn't done. There is no winning regardless of what answer I choose. Death will be inevitable, one way or another. ❞