#so if anyone. like. knows. could point me to posts

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

you seem nice and are being polite so i am going to attempt to return the same energy: there is just no universe in which i think it is the case that the language i used, talking explicitly about myself, on my blog, qualifies as harm that i need to be morally responsible for because someone else saw it and made a series of unwarranted assumptions about me. none whatsoever. this is a principle that i hold deeply, and one i extend to you as well and to anyone reading this and to the person i blocked: everyone on earth is allowed to talk about themselves however they see fit in their own spaces. i believe we all deserve that. i believe in being mindful to some degree when we are speaking in the semi-public space that is a personal blog on the internet, and i am in fact generally quite deliberate about using first-person language, as i did in that post, partly because i know that sloppy generalizations can cause people to take posts personally in ways that can be pretty painful, and although frankly i also think many people could stand to get better at keeping it chill when a 3-line post from someone they don’t know who was probably not expecting it to go viral doesn’t encompass their personal situation, i do generally strive to avoid posting in a manner that might cause such friction. but that’s not what this was. i said “here’s what i’m doing,” and someone said, in effect, “fuck you for telling me what to do.” i simply cannot be held responsible in any way for someone wildly distorting the reality of what i said, and i am under no obligation to make any kind of space for someone whose only interaction with me literally ever is to be rude, obnoxious, and annoying directly at me. because that’s what happened here, to be clear: yelling at me about something i quite literally did not say while seeming to make a million unwarranted assumptions about me (a stranger) is a rude thing to do. it is bad behavior in no way justified by the trauma of seeing a personal post about how a stranger on the internet is thinking about the election. absolutely no one is obligated to put up with that shit. if someone wants to take the high road on the matter, that’s very nice. but that’s a favor. it’s not a requirement. if you’re going to be a dick at people - literally at me, like, if they had screenshotted my post to yell at me on their own blog not in a million years would i have responded even if somehow i found out because they would not be doing it literally to my virtual face - you have forfeited the right to expect anyone to respond to you without matching your energy.

it is so, so, so obnoxious to see a stranger talking about themselves and decide it’s appropriate behavior to get in their face and yell at them that they’re doing emotions wrong. i don’t see this as an understandable overreaction after the thousandth paper cut. i just don’t. i see it as someone behaving without any consideration for the fact that other people have interiority. and i don’t think there’s ever a situation in which we are required to greet that particular form of myopic entitlement with gentleness. there are times where that kind of thing may be at some point met with forgiveness, for, like, a person in my actual life and community, although i’d like to state for the record that my friends are almost exclusively people carrying a fuckload of shit and literally not one of them has ever engaged in this kind of behavior, because it’s actually really easy to not be an asshole on the internet. but i just can’t get behind the idea that any of us owe shit to someone whose literal only interaction with us is ever was making up a guy in their head to get mad at and being a dick to us. i don’t believe it is prosocial or good for everyone to endorse the norm that if someone takes the time to behave badly towards you, a stranger whom they don’t know from adam, the only correct thing to do is shrug it off or accept that actually it’s reasonable of them to have gotten mad at you for something you didn’t do. i believe that thinking that way does nobody any favors. i think it’s bad for everyone.

my other grounding technique is remembering that the earliest abolitionists & the earliest suffragists had no proof that the world would ever make possible what they fought for and indeed many of them did not live to see it come to pass. and yet they did not succumb to despair so it would be disrespectful to their memory to let it overtake me

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[darcytaylor]

Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better. (Harper Bazaar Woman of the Year Awards)

For a while now, I’ve been saying here on my blog: speculation is not fact. We don’t - and never will - know the ins and outs of anyone’s private life, especially when it comes to someone like Nicola Coughlan. Yet so many people see her holding hands with someone and jump to conclusions, acting like they’re gospel truth. Can we please take a moment to think about why holding hands with a guy is somehow “evidence” of a relationship, but when she holds hands with female friends, no one bats an eye? (and no this is not where I want you to go into detail about all of your reasonings why she is dating someone, the point is WE DON'T KNOW - because we don't actually know her! And if someone says otherwise, they are lying!)

Even if Nicola is in a relationship, let’s remember that we don’t actually know anything about it, which is exactly how it should be. And for those hinting about pregnancy, even if they’re trying to be subtle with terms like “delicate position” - it’s beyond invasive, and it’s honestly FUCKED UP! People know exactly what you're suggesting, and Nicola called that behaviour out directly in her speech. If you’re focusing on her body rather than her work, you’re part of the problem. (You can read my pinned post where I go into more detail why speculating on pregnancy is fucked)

If Nicola doesn't like the way the media is portraying her, it's unlikely she would appreciate fans doing the same thing. Sometimes, people try to justify their actions by separating the media from fan behaviour, but the impact on her is the same. We need to remember that our assumptions, even if you think they are innocent, can be damaging.

What fans talk about often drives what the media focuses on, because they’re chasing clicks. If people weren’t feeding into it, the media wouldn’t have as much to go off.

What the fans talk about and what the media produces, go hand-in-hand, and ignoring that is a big part of the problem. Trying to justify it doesn’t change the fact that it can still affect Nicola - especially if she’s made it clear she’s uncomfortable and hates these narratives.

Nicola’s speech was a call out to reconsider how people engage with her personal life. I know I’ve been working on doing better, and I think everyone else in this fandom could stand to do the same. Instead of spinning theories about her relationships or appearance, maybe we could all step back, respect her boundaries, and celebrate her for what she wants to be recognized for: her achievements and her talent. Let's try not to make her whole personality about a guy.

Nicola took a stand on the insane focus on things like her relationship status, age, or dress size - topics that constantly overshadow her career and accomplishments. You can tell it's exhausting for her to be boxed into these labels, and she deserves better.

One of the best parts of her speech last night, for me, was when she praised her longtime inspiration, Victoria Beckham, who was right there in the audience. Nicola talked about how much Victoria meant to her growing up, especially for how she handled herself through nonstop scrutiny. Both women have had to deal with some of the same pressures -where fans and the media feel entitled to critique and dissect every aspect of their lives.

Nicola made it clear she’s tired of being defined by these things. People are more interested in latching onto rumours about her relationship status (even though we have zero confirmation of who she’s dating) or making guesses about her body, including potential pregnancy, all because of how she looks on any given day. This rush to define her identity based on whether she’s seen with someone or holding hands? It’s reductive and invasive.

Honestly, Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better.

To the bigger creators: you especially have to do better because I can see some of you fuelling everything that Nicola hates. (I actually don’t think it’s the people who ship Luke and Nicola because that is part of her job, that is part of Bridgerton and her work, it’s a testament to how good of a job both her and Luke did, Nicola understands that). But the people who are shipping her with people outside of her work? DO BETTER!

And yes, I am also putting myself in the category of doing better. I think it’s imperative to look at past behaviours and strive to do better and be better.

EDIT: THIS PICTURE IS GORGEOUS! The flowers, the lighting, the vibe. It's perfect!

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XIII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Despite the inital embarrasment of their reunion, Valaena seeks out her brothers and when time comes for Valaena to give birth Aemond is dealt a devestating blow.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, P in V, Semi Public, Reuniting, Mention of Suicide, Time Skip, Pain, Blood, Child Birth, Complications.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5186

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena scrambled to gather the sheets around herself, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” she sputtered; her voice thick with embarrassment.

Aemond howver lay there comfortably, a sly smirk pulling at his lips as he took in Jace and Luke’s mortified expressions.

Both young men quickly raised their hands to shield their faces, horror and embarrassment plain in their eyes.

Jace stammered, “We’re sorry, we didn’t expect—”

Aemond scoffed, his smirk growing wider. “Well, we do share chambers, nephew. What else would you expect us to be doing?” He raised an eyebrow, amusement in his voice. “Surely you have your own wife, so you know what goes on-or at least, I hope you do.”

Jace’s cheeks flushed even redder as he stuttered, “Th-that’s none of your business!”

Valaena lifted a hand, cutting through the rising tension. “Can we have this conversation at a more appropriate time, please? Preferably not while I’m naked and still seated upon my husbands-”

“-What?” asked Aemond feigning innocence.

“Are you seriously getting hard again?” whispered Valaena as she felt Aemond’s cock twitching and throbbing inside of her.

“I-I can’t help it” replied Aemond as he shifted slightly.

Valaena bit her lip to stifle the moan that threatened to spill forth as she felt Aemonds cock brushing against that sensitive spot inside her.

“My love. What’s wrong?” said Aemond smirking.

 Valaena shot him a look, still holding the sheets tightly to her chest. “Please, can you two just- leave,” she managed to say, barely keeping her voice steady.

Jace and Luke backed out of the room in a flurry of mumbled apologies, their faces beet red as they hurried to close the door behind them.

As the door clicked shut, Aemond wasted no time. He sat up swiftly, his hands finding their way to Valaena’s back, pulling her close as he captured her lips in a fierce, unrestrained kiss.

Valaena resisted for a moment but then melted against him, her hands tangling in his silver hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour, all traces of embarrassment and distraction fading away.

Aemond’s gaze darkened with intent as he murmured, “Mine,” his voice low and reverberating, almost like a vow.

Gently but decisively, he manoeuvred Valaena onto her back, until she was lying beneath him.

He moved with practiced ease, resting his weight on one arm so he could look down at her, his silver hair falling like a curtain around his face, framing the intensity in his eye.

Valaena gave him a teasing smile, her hand sliding up his arm as she whispered, “Again?” Her words were playful, yet the glimmer in her eyes mirrored his desire.

“Need to fuck you like this-” mumbled Aemond as he curled his fingers round her thigh and moved her leg around his waist.

Then he bit her over her pulse point. Hard. She cried out and Aemond rumbled in approval at how loud she screamed for him.

“Such a good fucking girl.” His tongue licked where he had just bitten down. “You always make the sweetest sounds for me-”

Aemond loved biting her, he always had.

“Oooohh Aemond” whined Valaena.

“That’s my girl-” as he rocked his own hips into her, making them both hiss. “So, fucking good-all mine”

“I need more” whimpered Valaena.

As his pace picked up, she gripped his shoulders for dear life and moved with him, never taking her eyes from his singular gaze.

“Keep going,” She panted against him. “Just like that-just like that”

“You like that?”

“Yes-yes Aemond” replied Valaena.

“I fucking love you-” moaned Aemond, every thrust of his hips was forcing her further towards the headboard.

“Aemond-Oh, Gods!”

“Gonna spill my seed!-“ He rotated his hips as he spoke, his sweaty forehead against hers.

Valaena scrawled her nails down Aemond’s back hard enough to leave marks making him growl in approval and fuck her harder into the mattress, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

“Mark me fucking harder” ordered Aemond as Valaena scored her nails down his back again.

“A-Aemond”

“So, fucking good for me-Oh, shit-yes-” moaned Aemond, his hips crashing into hers, babbling to himself and hitting all the right spots for her.

“Aemond I’m close-please-please” begged Valaena. She was so close, just a little more and she would be there.

“If you wasn’t with child already I’d put another babe on you” said Aemond against her lips as his thrusts started to become erratic.

“Aemond, yes-yes” screamed Valaena as her peak exploded.

“FUCK!” roared Aemond, the heat spreading across his abdomen as he exploded, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

“Oh shit – Aemond!” shouted Valaena as she clutched Aemond’s shoulders to ride the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body.

Aemond collapsed on top of her, and Valaena hugged his body tight.

“You are mine. Do you hear that?” whispered Aemond against her into her ear. “Everything about you.”

“Yours Aemond. Always yours”

Valaena found her brothers in the library, and they both immediately shot to their feet as she entered.

Luke’s face turned scarlet as he noticed the bite mark on her neck, and he quickly looked away.

“Did you really have to barge into my chambers like that?” Valaena asked.

Jace looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, but when mother sent a raven to Driftmark saying you were alive, we had to see it for ourselves. We couldn’t believe it.”

Valaena arched an eyebrow, a note of surprise in her voice. “Driftmark? What were you doing there?”

Jace looked away before responding. “I reside there now, as it’s heir. Luke didn’t want to stay in the Red Keep, so he’s there too, with Rhaena and their daughter-”

Valaena tilted her head, a new realization dawning on her. “Wait-you’re still the heir to Driftmark? I thought Mother would have named you heir to the Iron Throne”

Jace shook his head. “No. Even after even when we thought you were gone, Mother never named a new heir.”

Valaena’s eyes widened in shock. “Almost six years without officially naming a new heir?”

“Yes, the council kept pressuring her to name a new heir” Luke spoke up, glancing at his sister. “But she’s steadfastly refused.”

Valaena’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But Jace. You’re next in line. It should be you.”

Jace held up a hand. “I don’t want it. I’m content with my life on Driftmark with Baela and Laena”

Luke gave a small shrug. “Don’t look at me—I don’t want it either, you know what I’m like, if I board a ship I get green sick before I’ve even left the harbour”

Valaena looked between them, taken aback. “I honestly thought she would name someone else”

Jace’s expression softened as he looked at her. “She couldn’t bring herself to name a new heir because that would have meant that you were truly gone-even though we had a funeral for you, sometimes she liked to imagine that you were still out there somewhere”

Valaena stared at him, processing his words. “What?”

“She kept you alive in her heart,” Jace continued.

A deep pang of guilt mixed with a strange sense of wonder filled Valaena. “She refused to give up on me-”

Luke nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Not for a single moment.”

“Most people thought she was crazy,” Jace admitted, his voice low. “The council, the lords of the realm, they all thought she had lost her mind, holding onto this belief that you were still out there somewhere. They called it denial, a womans weakness. They said she was clinging to a dream that would never come true.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably, his hands folding tightly in his lap. “They tried to pressure her into naming a new heir, telling her it was reckless to leave the realm without one. They said that the throne needed a clear successor”

Jace continued, his gaze firm. “But our mother? She refused to be swayed. She couldn’t bring herself to replace you. She couldn’t let go of the idea that one day, you’d return.”

“I bet you thought she’d lost it when you received the raven” said Valaena.

Luke nodded vigorously. “At first, we thought it couldn’t be true.”

“So, you come over here and barge into my chambers” muttered Valaena.

“We had to know if you really was alive” exclaimed Jace.

Valaena crossed her arms, a smirk on her lips. “Well, you certainly could’ve picked a better moment for a reunion.”

Jace laughed, breaking some of the tension. “I’ve really missed you, sister.”

Luke’s face softened, his voice dropping. “We thought we’d lost you forever.”

Valaena sighed, her expression warming as she opened her arms. “Come here-”

Both Jace and Luke moved toward her eagerly, enveloping her in a tight embrace. They stood there, tangled in one another’s arms, a bond reaffirmed.

Luke’s voice was a hushed whisper, filled with awe. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

Valaena smiled, squeezing them tightly. “Yes, I’m here.”

As they pulled back slightly, Jace’s eyes dropped to her stomach, widening as he noticed her rounded belly. “And you’re with child?”

Valaena smiled softly as she stepped back from them, resting a hand on her stomach. “My fourth.”

Luke gasped. “Your fourth?”

Jace grinned. “Gone nearly six years, and already four children? I suppose we know what you and our dear uncle were getting up to when everyone thought you were dead.”

Valaena scowled playfully. “Jacaerys!”

He held up his hands in surrender, laughing. “What?”

Luke, gentler, leaned in. “Tell us about your other children.”

Valaena’s expression softened as she began to describe them. “My oldest is my son, Rhaegar, then I have two daughters—Elaena and Daenys.”

Luke’s eyes lit up. “A nephew and two nieces?”

Valaena nodded with a smile. “Come with me,” she said, leading them out of the library and through the corridors toward Maegor’s Holdfast.

They stopped outside a door where Valaena pressed a finger to her lips, signalling them to be quiet.

Slowly, she opened it, revealing the soft moonlight casting a gentle glow over her sleeping son. “That’s Rhaegar,” she whispered.

Jace and Luke leaned in, their faces melting into smiles as they observed the small silver-haired boy.

Sapphyre, curled protectively beside him, briefly raised his head to curiously eye the newcomers, before he huffed and then settled back down.

“He has a dragon?” Jace whispered, impressed.

Valaena nodded. “He’s called Sapphyre.”

Luke noted, “He’s quite big for a hatchling.”

Valaena just smiled, then quietly closed the door and led them to the next room. Opening it with the same care, she gestured for them to look inside.

“This is Elaena,” she murmured, and then pointed to the cradle. “And here is Daenys.”

“Oh, gods she’s so beautiful” gasped Luke quietly as he gazed at Elaena who was fast asleep with her blankey  firmly in her grasp.

Jace’s gaze softened as he noticed the dark hair of Daenys. “She has your colouring.”

“One of them had to take after me,” Valaena chuckled softly.

“They’re both so wonderful, sister,” Luke said, sincerity evident in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Valaena replied with a warm smile.

Jace’s attention shifted to the small dragons resting near the children. “And they have dragons too?”

Valaena nodded proudly. “Hūra belongs to Elaena, and Valerion to Daenys.”

Luke murmured, “The blood of the dragon runs thick.”

“Indeed, it does,” Valaena agreed, gently ushering her brothers out and closing the door softly behind her.

Jace yawned, stretching. “It’s getting late. Perhaps we should retire for the night and catch up more in the morning.”

Valaena raised an eyebrow. “Good idea. Just remember to knock next time before barging into my chambers.”

Luke let out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be knocking.”

Aemond stood on the balcony, his gaze fixed on Valaena as she wandered through the gardens with her brothers, Jace and Luke, laughing and talking eagerly.

A flicker of something dark passed over his face as he watched them. Arro approached from behind and paused beside him, observing quietly before breaking the silence.

“Why don’t you join them, my prince?”

Aemond’s eyes remained on Valaena as he replied, his tone edged with disdain. “I have no desire to talk to either of her bastard brothers.”

Arro tilted his head. “You don’t get along with them?”

“No,” Aemond said shortly. “I never really have.”

“Why is that?” Arro asked, genuinely curious.

Aemond’s gaze grew colder. “They used to tease me as a child, constantly making jokes at my expense.” He nodded toward the smaller of the two, who was gesturing animatedly as he spoke to Valaena. “The one talking to her now—Lucerys. He’s the one who carved out my eye.”

Arro’s eyes narrowed. “And he still breathes?”

Aemond let out a humourless laugh. “Not only does he breathe, but he also walked away without punishment.”

Arro’s brow furrowed. “How did it happen?”

Aemond leaned against the railing, his gaze lost in the memory. “It was just after I claimed Vhagar. I felt untouchable, dragon less no longer, I’d managed to claim the largest dragon in the world. Then they set upon me”.

Arro’s eyes darkened as he listened. Aemond’s voice grew colder. “Jace brought the knife, but I managed to disarm him. Then Lucerys picked it up and took my eye.”

Arro looked shocked. “And yet he went unpunished?”

Aemond’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Their mother, Rhaenyra, was my father’s favourite child. He cared more about the insult his grandsons received than about his own son’s suffering. He demanded we apologize—and show good will to one another”

Arro scoffed. “A fool’s notion.”

Aemond let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening on the railing. “So many times, I’ve imagined what it would feel like to take my dagger and hold that little strong bastard down and take his eye as he did mine.”

Arro considered him, impressed. “How do you restrain yourself from doing it?”

Aemond’s expression softened slightly as he looked back at his wife. “Valaena. Only because of my love for her, does her brother still have both of his eyes.”

Arro shook his head, admiring. “You’re a better man than me, my prince. In your place, I’d have carved both his eyes out by now.”

Aemond huffed a laugh, his gaze still following Valaena. “Don’t tempt me.”

Arro studied him a moment, then asked thoughtfully, “And what does Princess Valaena think about it?”

“She hates what Lucerys did to me. But he’s still her brother,” Aemond replied, sighing.

Arro nodded. “She has a big heart, but sometimes family can be the ones who hurt us the most.”

Aemond glanced at him, noting the bitterness in Arro’s tone. “You speak as if you have experience in such matters.”

Arro’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “My father was a very cruel man. He’d often hurt my mother, sometimes to the point she couldn’t bear it anymore and eventually, she took her own life.”

Aemond placed a hand on Arro’s shoulder, a gesture of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Arro.”

Arro nodded, his expression softening as he looked down. “I may not have been able to protect her then, but when I became a man, I gave her vengeance.”

Aemond’s hand tightened on Arro’s shoulder, a hint of respect in his gaze. “What was her name?”

A faint smile touched Arro’s lips. “Sura.”

Aemond nodded solemnly. “A beautiful name.”

“Thank you, my prince” Arro replied, gratitude evident in his eyes.

They stood in silence, side by side, bound by unspoken understanding and the weight of scars—old and new.

Months after Valaena and Aemond had returned and begun reestablishing themselves within the family, Rhaenyra announced plans for a grand celebration to be held at the Red Keep.

Not only would it honour their return, but it would also publicly reaffirm Valaena as heir to the Iron Throne and name Rhaegar as her successor.

Preparations for the festivities brought excitement to many—and tension to others.

As the strain finally boiled over one afternoon when Luke proposed a potential betrothal between his eldest daughter, Rhaella, and Rhaegar. Aemond's response was immediate and absolute.

“No,” he said flatly, his tone icy.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “What reason could you have to refuse my daughter? She has Targaryen and Velaryon blood-”

Aemond crossed his arms, glaring. “Because I do not wish to have my son tied to anyone from your line.”

Luke's face flushed with anger. “You mean to say my blood isn’t worthy? How dare you insult my daughter—”

Aemond took a step forward, his eye flashing with contempt. “If you think I’ll allow my son to marry the daughter of the whelp who left me scarred, then you are delusional.”

Harsh words were exchanged as the resentment came rushing to the surface. Insults turned quickly to raised voices, and before anyone could intervene, Aemond and Luke were upon each other, fists flying.

Aemond’s strength and focus quickly overwhelmed Luke, and he delivered a hard blow to his nose, causing it to break with a sickening crunch.

Guards and family rushed in to separate the two, pulling Aemond back as Luke, blood streaming from his nose, shot him a furious look.

Rhaenyra, who had arrived on the scene, looked between them with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

Valaena stepped forward, trying to ease the tension. “Perhaps we should wait until Rhaegar is older before we start discussing any potential matches. There’s no need to rush, and he should have a say in his future.”

The Queen nodded, calming at her daughter’s suggestion. “Very well,” Rhaenyra said, a hint of firmness still in her voice. “The matter of Rhaegar’s future bride will be left to another time. But as for the two of you,” she added, looking sternly between Aemond and Luke, “you will keep your distance from each other.”

Though both men gave a begrudging nod, they exchanged one last heated glance.

The throne room was alive with a rare grandeur, bustling with lords and ladies from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, all gathered in honour of Valaena’s return and to reaffirm her as Rhaenyra’s heir.

Valaena stood proudly beside her mother, her expression serene as she clutched Rhaegar’s small hand.

Her son’s eyes, bright and curious, wandered over the crowd, while Aemond’s cool gaze swept protectively over his family.

Rhaenyra raised her hands, and the throne room hushed as she began to speak, her voice resounding with both pride and authority.

“Today, we celebrate the return of my daughter, Princess Valaena, and her husband Prince Aemond to our House. Let it be known to all that Princess Valaena is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and that her son, Prince Rhaegar, will one day wear the crown as King.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, banners lifted high as people bowed and bent their knees, showing loyalty to their Queen and her line.

Valaena glanced down at Rhaegar, who clutched her hand tighter, wide-eyed and thrilled by the sea of people honouring him.

But as the ceremony continued, Valaena felt a dull ache stirring low in her stomach, a sensation she’d initially dismissed as nerves.

Yet it grew with each passing moment, blossoming into something sharper and more insistent.

She winced, pressing a hand lightly against her belly, and Aemond’s gaze flicked toward her with concern, his sharp eye catching the hint of discomfort. He stepped closer, murmuring softly, “Are you well, Valaena?”

“Yes,” she said, though her voice was tight. “I’m fine.”

But as Rhaenyra continued, Valaena fought to keep her expression calm, her fingers clenching around Rhaegar’s hand as the ache became sharper, radiating from her lower back in waves.

Finally, Rhaenyra turned to her, her eyes bright with pride, beckoning her to step forward.

With a deep breath, Valaena nodded and released Rhaegar’s hand, stepping forward to accept her mother’s blessing as heir before all the realm.

She took one steadying breath, standing straight and proud, when suddenly the ache turned into a sharper, more insistent pain that left her breathless.

Helaena, who had been silent and watchful, stepped forward, her violet eyes going distant as she muttered, “White stained with crimson-”

Aemond, turned sharply to Helaena, confused. “What?” he asked, a trace of worry crossing his features.

Helaena took his hand, her expression sorrowful as she murmured, “I’m so sorry brother-”

At that moment, Valaena let out a pained whimper, as she clutched her stomach, gasping, “The babe-the babe is coming!”

Aemond’s face paled as he looked from Helaena to Valaena, whose breaths were now coming in shallow, laboured gasps.

Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her, steadying her as her knees began to tremble.

Rhaegar’s wide eyes darted between his mother and father, clearly unsettled by the sudden shift.

Rhaenyra quickly took control, motioning to the guards and advisors. “Clear the hall! Make way!” Her voice rang out, and the bustling lords and ladies quickly quieted, eyes widening as they watched the princess double over in pain.

Aemond swept Valaena up into his arms, the protective fury in his eye telling everyone to keep their distance as he carried her through the throne room.

Rhaenyra followed close behind, barking orders for grand Maester Gerardys and the midwives to be summoned at once.

As they moved briskly through the corridors, Valaena clung to Aemond, her breath ragged, trying to steady herself as the pain grew sharper.

Between contractions, she looked up at him, her face flushed with both agony and determination.

“Aemond it’s early-” she whispered, worry lacing her voice.

He brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead, his voice soft but fiercely resolute. “I’m here, Valaena. I won’t leave your side. We’ll get through this, I swear it.”

When they reached her chambers, the midwives and Gerardys were already prepared, bustling around as they readied her bed.

Gently, Aemond placed her down, settling beside her and taking her hand as Rhaenyra took her other side.

As the pain intensified, Valaena’s grip on Aemond’s hand tightened, but his gaze never wavered.

He leaned close, murmuring words of encouragement, determined to be her anchor as the hours stretched on, and the labour intensified.

Valaena writhed, her body nearly giving in from exhaustion as labour dragged on with a relentless intensity.

Each wave of pain was stronger than the last, and her energy waned, but her determination refused to give out.

The pain was overwhelming, and when Gerardys announced that the babe was stuck, her heart sank.

"I will not have my daughter butchered," Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the room, fierce and unyielding.

Gerardys quickly shook his head. “I’m not suggesting such a thing, Your Grace. But perhaps if the princess could walk, it might encourage the babe to move,” he said gently.

Rhaenyra nodded and leaned close to Valaena, stroking her sweat-dampened hair. “Sweet girl, you need to try and walk.”

Valaena whimpered, her voice strained. “I-I don’t think I can-”

Aemond slipped his arm around her, his voice firm yet full of care. “Come on, we’ll help you.” He lifted her gently, wrapping her against him as she clung to his arm, while Rhaenyra took her other side.

Step by painful step, Valaena leaned into them, every inch of movement an ordeal.

Each new contraction made her shudder, and suddenly, she doubled over, a scream tearing from her throat. “I can feel the babe-it’s coming!”

Gerardys, already alert, waved them back to the bed. “Quickly, lay her down!”

With great care, they helped Valaena back onto the bed as Gerardys moved to examine her. He looked up with a glimmer of relief.

“The babe has moved,” he announced. “I can see the head.”

Aemond moved closer as he took a quick look between her legs, his voice full of wonder. “The babe has silver hair.”

Valaena huffed weakly, managing a slight smile. “Not-another one-”

Aemond took her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “You’re doing wonderfully, love,” he murmured, his gaze steady and reassuring.

Rhaenyra held Valaena’s other hand tightly, her face a mixture of pride and concern. “Now, push, sweet girl.”

Taking a deep breath, Valaena bore down, her scream echoing around the room as the effort drained what little strength she had left.

Finally, she sagged back onto the bed, shaking her head. “I-I can’t do it anymore.”

Aemond exchanged a worried look with Rhaenyra, and he leaned closer to Valaena, brushing her damp hair from her face. His voice softened as he reminded her, “You are blood of the dragon. You can do this.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, “I can’t-”

Gazing into her eyes, Aemond took her hand firmly and spoke with quiet conviction, “Do you remember the vows we spoke in our place?”

She gasped, her breath catching as she whispered, “Y-Yes-I do-”

Aemond’s voice dropped to a gentle murmur as he began, “-Hen lanoti ānogar, Va sȳndroti vaedroma, Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdroma āirza sīr, Izulī amapā perzi.” (Blood of two, joined as one, Ghostly flame and song of shadows, Two hearts as embers).

With a shuddering breath, Valaena joined him, her voice strained but full of resolve. “P-Prumī l-lanti sēteksi, Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozundesi, Syndroro ono jēdo, Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” (Forged in fourteen fires, A future promised in glass, The stars stand witness, The vow spoken through time, Of darkness and light).

Aemond smiled at her, a fierce pride shining in his eye. “Come on, love. Now push.”

Drawing strength from his words, Valaena gritted her teeth and pushed with every last reserve of her strength.

Her cries of pain filled the room, and then, at last, a wet squelch broke the silence, followed by the strong, loud cries of a newborn.

The maester’s voice rang out joyfully. “A boy.”

Valaena fell back, her body limp, but her face lit with a mixture of relief and joy as she looked at Aemond. His eye was alight with pride, and he leaned down, kissing her forehead once more.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he brushed the tears from her cheek.

The joy that had filled the room only moments ago shattered when Valaena’s body suddenly convulsed, blood flooding the sheets beneath her.

Aemond’s heart stilled, his voice tight with horror as he gasped, “W-What’s going on?”

Gerardys thrust the crying babe into the arms of a nearby midwife and desperately worked to stanch the bleeding.

But Valaena’s face grew pale, her grip on Rhaenyra’s hand slackened, her breaths shallowing as her eyes rolled back.

“No,” Aemond whispered, stepping closer, panic spilling into his words. “No, Valaena. Don’t close your eyes!”

But Valaena didn’t respond. Her body went limp, and she lay unresponsive as Gerardys called for the others to clear the room, ushering Aemond and Rhaenyra out as he battled to save her life.

Outside, the minutes crept by with agonizing slowness. Aemond clenched his fists, feeling helpless, his every nerve frayed.

Rhaenyra, paced the corridor, twisting her rings as if the motion could chase away the growing fear in her eyes.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Gerardys appeared, dishevelled and splattered with blood.

“My Prince,” he began, his voice weary.

“Is-Is Valaena all right?” Aemond demanded, fear clawing at him.

“She’s Alive. I managed to stop the bleeding—”

“But?” Aemond’s voice broke as his heartbeat thundered in his chest.

Gerardys’ face softened with sorrow. “The traumatic birth and heavy blood loss has caused Princess Valaena to slip into a coma.”

Rhaenyra let out a strangled sob, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Aemond’s mind reeled. “W-What-What does that mean?”

“Sometimes, when the body endures extreme trauma, it may enter a state of deep unconsciousness—called a coma.” Gerardys paused, hesitant. “How long it will last, I cannot say. It may be days, weeks, or perhaps even longer. It depends entirely on how her body can heal.”

“So-she’s asleep?”

“In a way, yes,” Gerardys replied gently, “but the longer she remains unresponsive, the less likely it is that she will ever wake.”

Aemond’s breath shuddered. “N-Never wake. She’s just given birth to our son; we have other children. How am I supposed to cope without her?” Tears streamed down his face as his voice broke.

“I’m truly sorry, my Prince,” Gerardys murmured.

Aemond swallowed, clinging to the faintest hope. “C-Can I see her?”

Gerardys nodded and moved aside to allow Aemond to enter their chambers.

Inside, fresh bedding had been laid, and Valaena was reclined in a clean shift, her dark hair brushed back.

Her face was peaceful, as if she were only sleeping, though her skin was a ghastly pale, and her breathing was shallow.

Aemond collapsed at her bedside, taking her hand in his own, pressing it to his forehead as he broke down.

“Please, Valaena,” he whispered through choked sobs. “Please, don’t leave me.”

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had retreated to the hallway, her heart aching as she leaned against the wall, whispering to herself in despair.

“You gave her back to me, please, don’t take her away again. I can’t lose her again.” She held a hand to her chest as she felt her composure begin to crumble.

In the silence, she felt strong arms wrap around her. Daemon’s familiar warmth enveloped her as she looked up, her tears spilling over.

“Not again, Daemon,” she sobbed, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I can’t do this again.”

Daemon stroked her back, his voice calm and steady. “Shh. It’ll be all right”

Daemon opened the door, his heart heavy as he stepped into the dimly lit chamber. His gaze fell on Aemond, who knelt beside Valaena’s bedside, clutching her pale, motionless hand.

Aemond’s shoulders shook, his voice soft and pleading as he pressed his forehead to her hand.

“Please, baby,” he choked, his words broken. “Please, come back to me.  I-I can’t do this without you.” The tears streamed down his face. “We were supposed to die together, remember? Y-You promised me-that we would grow old and die at the exact same moment, holding hands-”

Daemon’s throat tightened, tears blurring his own vision as he took in Valaena’s still form. She looked so peaceful, as though she were merely asleep, but her face was pale, her body unmoving.

He hesitated, his heart aching as he reached out, his hand hovering above Aemond’s shoulder before finally resting there with a gentle squeeze.

Aemond looked up at him, his one eye red-rimmed and filled with despair.

He gazed at Daemon, and then, as though breaking, lurched forward, wrapping his arms around him as he sobbed, the grief pouring out in heaving, shuddering gasps.

Daemon, momentarily shocked, felt his own heart give way. He tightened his arms around Aemond, his hand resting on the back of Aemond’s head as he held him close.

Words escaped him; all he could do was let Aemond cry, his own tears slipping silently down his cheeks as he held the man who was, in that moment, no prince, nor rival, but simply a husband fearing the loss of his love.

Together, they knelt at Valaena’s side, united in the quiet grief and hope that she would come back to them.

TBC.

[webslingingslasher]

i hope work gets better<3 how's frat!peter doing today😚

frat!peter is struggling today and here’s why::

peter isn’t sure what went down tonight but you’re in his bed. any other time it would be a celebration but since it’s been a few months since you’ve been there, his head is spinning.

‘um, hello?’ it goes unanswered. it’s not surprising, it’s almost three in the morning and you look asleep.

peter doesn’t know what to do but he’s tired. you wouldn’t sleep in his room without knowing there was a chance of him finding you and crawling in next to you, right?

right?

‘i’m gonna sleep in here too so if you have a problem with it…’

fuck it. he strips to his boxers and gets into bed as quietly as he can, molding around you and doing his best to keep his own space. it’s hard when he joined you while you’re star fishing.

peter gently tugs at the blanket, keeping an eye on your face for any changes. escaping into the warmth, peter hears you let out a quiet hum. he’s scared to breathe, scooting until his back is barely hanging over the edge of the bed.

you hitch your side of the blanket over your shoulder and roll to your back. peter wasn’t quick enough and you land on his arm, your face scrunches and it’s all over. licking your lips, you reach under you- the second you touch his skin, your eyes open and peter throws his hand over your mouth. he can hear the scream before you let it out.

‘it’s just me, it’s just me. you’re fine.’

you have an opposite reaction, flying up and scurrying away from him, pulling the blankets with you.

‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ peter could ask you the same thing but you might take that as a complaint and trust him, he’s not complaining.

‘you’re in my bed.’ you look around like you’ve been pranked, or like you’ve woken up at three am in a panic. ‘because you weren’t supposed to be here!’

‘i-‘ it’s peter’s turn to be confused, he knows why he wasn’t going to be there. but why do you? ‘how did you know that?’

‘ethan said you were at may’s! i wanted to have a sleepover but his white noise machine was too loud.’ ethan set up a really nice bed for you, he splurged on the best air mattress he could find but you couldn’t deal with rainforest sounds. water? fine. birds chirping? you left an hour in.

‘so you stole my bed?’ out of all the couches, you picked his bed. there might be hope after all. ‘you weren’t supposed to come back, you were supposed to sleep at may’s!’

‘i came back early, sorry to ruin your plan.’ you look out his windows, all you can see is the glow of light posts. you look for your phone and baulk at the time.

‘why the hell are you making that trek at three in the morning?’ peter smiles, you notice where you messed up. ‘nope. don’t care, go sleep in ethan’s room.’

‘what? no way, you go sleep in ethan’s room.’ you tried. and failed. ‘i can’t. i tried turning it off and he got mad at me.’

‘and you think he’d be nice to me? yeah, right.’ you pout, ‘no but you’re nice to me and you’ll take my place for me.’

adorable. and it’s not gonna happen.

‘no. either you go back in there and tough it out or you accept defeat and sleep next to me.’

you have a staring contest. if this was anything else, peter would do it to make you happy but he’s got a chance at the best sleep he’s had in months and he’s not letting it go.

you cross your arms and huff, peter uses the opportunity to claim his space. he might bully you into sleeping next to him but he won’t force you into a cuddle. but if you want one… he’ll make it the best one you’ve ever had.

‘peter!’ you whine and he won. you slump next to him and make a point to shuffle away. ‘you better not touch me.’

‘you’re in my bed.’

you sit up to grab a pillow, ‘i’ll sleep on your floor and never shut up about it.’ peter backs down real fast, there’s no way he’d let you hang that over his head.

‘no touching. got it.’ you make sure there’s nothing else- no grin or shiny eyes to give away he’s lying.

‘oh, and if anyone asks, you snuck in. i didn’t allow this.’

[ahyperactivehero]

If you're still feeling DBD drabbles I'd love some post-canon Edwin and Crystal bonding (making fun of celebrities together? studying magic? comparing rich neglectful parents?)

I love a good Edwin and Crystal bonding moment! I hope that if we ever get season 2 we get to see more of them bickering and bonding. Because these two remind me of me and my sibling so strongly it almost hurts <3

(reminder that i am taking election night drabbles, although i can't promise they'll be posted tonight. i'm working on as many as i can, but it is getting late! i'll likely finish most of them tomorrow unfortunately)

Drabble 2 

Crystal and Edwin were at war. Or at least, that’s what Crystal would have labeled themselves as. According to Charles this was simply, ‘Edwin when he likes you,’ which Crystal wanted to be judgemental about, but she had her memories back and she could remember what a menace she’d been to people she liked.

“It is not hard, Crystal,” Edwin stressed, leaning heavily on to the desk in front of him. At some point in time he had abandoned his coat and jacket and rolled his sleeves up in what had to be the most laid back outfit Crystal had ever seen him in.

Yet there was nothing relaxed about Edwin. She’d never known him to be a particularly relaxed person, but there was a strange undercurrent of stress that was running through him that she was pretty sure wasn’t always there.

She sighed again for what must have been the millionth time and dropped her phone onto the couch next to her. It’s not like anyone she actually liked contacted her that way. In fact, she’d been arguing with her mom the last time someone had actually reached out to her, which had only resulted in Crystal storming out of the house and crashing in the agency’s office for a few days.

Which brought them to where they were now. Edwin tapped the book in front of him, looking for all the world like a young teaching assistant annoyed with his students. “If you would simply try, I know you cou-”

Violently, she shoved herself up off of the couch. Her feet banged against the floor, almost loud enough to rattle the windows, and for once she was glad Charles wasn’t here. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

“I have tried, Edwin! I’ve tried, okay! Have you ever tried shutting up?!” she asked before throwing herself back down onto the couch, her back turned towards the world as if that might somehow block out the ghost.

One of Crystal’s favorite and least favorite things about Edwin was that he never seemed to be dissuaded by her poor attitude. Sometimes, it even seemed to encourage him. “If you had actually tried, you would have cast the spell,” Edwin said. There was no heat to his voice, not even an ounce of actual anger to him– even though Crystal was sure he was pissed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she did that she’d be able to block out Edwin’s voice and the tears at the same time. “I did try,” she said, all of the fire in her voice having faded until it sounded broken and sad.

The sound of soft footsteps filled the room. Edwin’s familiar sounding boots shuffled against the floor until he reached the couch and seemed to hover there for a moment. 

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

And Crystal wasn’t sure what he meant until she rolled over and saw him looking at her phone. 

“You are fighting with your parents,” he said.

“So what?” she asked and snatched her phone out of his hands.

“So, magic, especially one as instinctual and ingrained as yours, is highly influenced by your emotions.” Crystal glared up at him from the corner of her eye, which forced him to hold his hands up in defense. “Not because you are a woman, or whatever else it is you might be thinking I meant. Just because magic works that way.”

They needed a new couch. She poked at a hole that had long since been worn into the cushion and pulled out a bit of stuffing before sticking it back inside. “So I’m just going to keep fucking it up?” she asked.

Edwin sat down on the floor with his back to the couch. It was almost easier to talk this way, the two of them back to back. At least then she didn’t have to see his judgmental face, and he wouldn’t have to see her cry.

Not that she was crying, of course.

“No,” Edwin said quietly. “You will not keep ‘fucking it up.’ Although it will likely take time for you to get used to doing magic with such intentions, not just relying on your instincts to guide you.”

She pulled another thing of stuffing out before shoving it back in. “What’s so wrong with instincts?” Her ancestors had done fantastically for her so far.

Edwin shuffled, but she couldn’t figure out what he had done. “Nothing. Instincts are, as Charles would say, brills. They help keep you alive and safe and have been developed for exactly that reason.”  He shifted again, and this time Crystal could feel him fully leaning back against the couch, and the goosebumps that a ghost in too close proximity caused raised along her skin. 

“But what happens if you can’t trust your instincts? What if something has changed or been manipulated and you can’t trust them?” he asked.

And Crystal knew they were talking about something heavy, something that Edwin would definitely rather not talk about with her. But here he was, talking about it with her just the same.

“You mean Hell?” she asked. She rolled over just enough to get a peek at the top of Edwin’s head. Even though she could see very little of him, she could tell that he was nervous and that made her nervous.

“Not strictly speaking of Hell. There are plenty of supernatural beings with the ability to manipulate you or your senses for their own gains.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes barely catching hers. “But yes, I was referring to demons like David.”

Her nails had already been bitten down to the quick, but she chewed on them anyways. Buzzes shook the couch as more texts from her mom chimed in, likely just another rant about what an awful child she was and how she was making everything so difficult for them.

“They’re just saying those things because they feel like they are failing as parents,” Edwin said. He’d turned back away, his eyes staring into the closet as if it offered something particularly interesting inside. “And while that might be true, that does not mean that you are a failure.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah,” she said. “What do you know about it?”

Edwin’s sharp green eyes turned towards her before quickly cutting away. “You are hardly the only one to grow up with rich, neglectful parents,” Edwin said. “Why do you think I was sent away to school in the first place?”

Any and all fight she had had in her died. Fighting with Edwin was supposed to be fun and sharp and quick– it didn’t seem fair to fight him when he was being so honest.

A forced smile spread across her face as she reached out and bumped him with her hand. “Shoulda known you had rich parents,” she said. “Look at how you talk.”

Edwin furrowed his brow. “Everyone at school spoke the way I do.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a while before Crystal sighed and held out her hand. “Gimme the book,” she said. Which Edwin gracefully did.

The original language was too hard for Crystal to read, but Edwin had written it down in English and then wrote it out phonetically below that. It wasn’t very long, nor was it anything special, just a minor illusion spell. It wouldn’t be enough to trick anyone, or save her from a demon, but it was definitely a start. 

“Charles will be happy you’re trying again,” Edwin said as she ran her hands over the pages. 

“Oh yeah?” she asked. Was that a B or a D? Edwin’s handwriting was so nice it was almost hard to read.

“He takes his job very seriously as the brawn,” Edwin said, as if she needed to be told that. “But it makes him happy to know that you or I could defend ourselves with spells if we had to.”

Once again she snorted. “But you never do,” she said. “And I don’t see how this little spell is supposed to help.”

Edwin nodded. “Never need to. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to in return. Besides, this was one of the first spells I ever learned, and it's a great base to build on.”

And maybe that was a better way of looking at it. Not just defending herself or learning magic that some old, dead person other than Edwin had created when she could just use her own ancestral abilities. No, this was just another way to protect not only herself but the people she had come to love. 

Plus, wouldn’t it be nice to have a base spell that she could work on? If she could master this, maybe she could use some elements from it in her family's own magic.

Slowly, she read the words out as she tried to picture what she wanted to show Edwin. It wouldn’t be perfect, she was sure of that, but God if she wasn’t going to make this time work.

Purple petals and leaves filled the air as the image of the tree inside herself appeared in her palm. It was shaky, the picture almost glitchy and waving before reappearing slightly less detailed than before. It was as if someone had roughly sketched what was inside her without any special art talent.

But dammit, that was her tree, and she had cast it.

“It’s beautiful,” Edwin said. His eyes were wide, and he leaned in. Petals settled over him for a moment before passing through him on the way to the ground. She wondered if that was a ghost thing or a magic thing. 

“This is me,” she said. 

Edwin glanced at her before turning back to the tree. “Your ancestors’ tree,” he said, finally understanding. “I can only imagine how amazing it is in person.”

Pride she hadn’t expected to feel flooded her, filling her tree with even more light until it nearly blinded the two of them. Edwin folded her hands closed, shutting off the spell as they blinked spots from their vision.

She smiled sheepishly and he grinned back at her, one of the first true smiles she thought she had ever seen on his face. 

“We’ll work on that,” he said.

And they would.

[anghraine]

This isn't going to turn into All US Politics All The Time blog for four years (all going about as well as possible). And I don't begrudge anyone finding comfort where they can from the various state-level small victories—the GOP losing their incredibly corrupt supermajority in NC and failing to take the governor's seat, various state measures to protect or at least advance abortion rights, my candidate for governor winning in my own state, decent performances in a lot of House races, the predictable Senate disaster not being quite as bad as it might have been in this environment.

But for me, there is something discouraging about these as well, and something overlooked in the comparisons to the 2020 election. To me, the obvious point of comparison is less 2020 than 2016.

[This is not an even slightly positive post—putting most of it below the cut so you can skip if you don't want further doom 'n gloom.]

Trump's victory in 2016 was more shocking, yes, but it came with a lot of qualifications. Most obviously, the majority of people who voted in 2016 didn't vote for him, and while this didn't change the result of the election, it did affect the sense of what was going on nationally. Hillary Clinton, a flawed candidate under investigation during the election (however obviously politically motivated that investigation—and it was reopened right before Election Day) and the object of a 30-year misogynistic campaign of relentless, unabashed right-wing and journalistic hatred, and the leader of a campaign that made some clear tactical missteps, was preferable to Trump for the majority of voters even without certainty about what his administration would do. And people could and did lie to themselves about what a Trump administration would be like because he was a posturing blowhard who'd never held office. I always thought "Trump's just saying stuff, he's really going to outflank Hillary from the left!!!" was stupid as fuck, but it's a thing people convinced themselves of.

But in 2024, we know how bad the Trump administration would be (and there's no reason to think this one won't be worse—quite the opposite). We saw how his COVID response made a bad situation orders of magnitude worse to the point that morgues were overflowing with dead bodies. We know about how unethical he is because he's been found legally liable in relation to crimes of corruption and rape. He encouraged a coup to overthrow the last election. And Kamala Harris has far less political baggage than HRC did, is more progressive, ran a better campaign, had no October Surprise, and yet is losing the popular vote quite badly (right now, with 89% of the vote counted, Trump is ahead by about five million votes).

And seeing that people are voting to protect abortion rights in their state or ousting obviously corrupt state officials etc and then also voting for Trump is on one level—okay, so ordinary voters only sort of align with the cackling evil of GOP politicians' schemes and will at times vote to restrict their awful policies even in very red states. On a pragmatic level, that's better than being fully aligned with those policies. But on another level, I find it appalling. This loss isn't about any particular policy and I think you're fooling yourself if you think any One Magic Trick could have changed this result—that was possible in 2016, potentially, but not in this election. A lot of people are voting against specific Republican agendas and then voting for Donald Trump and JD fucking Vance.

Obviously racist misogyny (and misogynoir particularly) is likely a major culprit given that this disparity wasn't present even in far more unfavorable-on-paper conditions in 2016 against a profoundly unpopular white woman after an eight-year Democratic administration. There's the weird cult of personality around Trump. Etc. But I'm also thinking about how the most successful period for Democrats during this cycle was when they veered away from anything to do with actual policies and were like "these Republican politicians are the weird freaks with bad vibes actually." I'm thinking about how the vast majority of the country went significantly rightwards even in many places that Harris or Democrats won.

And it's like... maybe we won't become an autocracy, maybe he'll have another disastrously awful administration that isn't as much worse than the first as we fear, and public opinion will turn against him again and his sheer unpopularity will drive backlashes favoring Democrats in 2026 and 2028. But even that best case scenario isn't fixing what's wrong here.

[ot3]

pretty long meandering post here just talking through some thoughts about the late game arizona progressive endorsement for kamala

i find it really fascinatingly racist the way certain people took the letter from local arab/muslim leaders in arizona endorsing kamala's campaign and decided that mean they now had 'palestinians want you to vote for kamala' as a hammer they could deploy in a world full of nails. to be clear i don't think this endorsement was meaningless at all and the opinions of these people are certainly worth considering. especially for swing state voters, who were the target audience here.

but i saw people responding to fucking bisan's on-the-ground video of people in gaza saying the election results made no difference to them with sentiment along the lines of 'don't believe this video,, its disinformation, palestinians want you to vote for harris' and i can only assume it's because none of them actually read the letter. they just saw headlines like this one and decided that absolved them of any need to own their own decisionmaking at this time

now clearly the palestinian people are not a monolith, and palestinians currently living in gaza and suffering through a genocide vs those living in the US in a swing state are going to have different priorities vis a vis this election. i don't think acknowledging that in any way diminishes the validity of either group's opinion, and it's absolutely not my place to critique the way these various communities are choosing to respond to kamala's stance on israel. so it really disgusts me to watch mainly white liberals act like this specific group of people discussing the specific political context they currently exist in represents the complete and collective will of the palestinian people, just because doing so happens to support their political goals. i don't know man i think the second you start talking about an entire nationality of people as if they have the same political opinions you've already lost!

the reason i say i don't think most of these people read the letter, beyond the fact that i've yet to see anyone discuss the specifics of it, is because the letter does go out of its way to acknowledge potential strategic benefits of 3rd party votes in the 43 other states that aren't going to be the deciding factor. i know this is not sentiment that the average voteblue liberal agrees with.

anyway. there's not really a conclusion to be had here other than i think we're going to see a lot of vitriol directed towards third party votes in the immediate future. we saw similar sentiment after the 2016 election; people were INCREDIBLY quick to say that the reason donald trump won was because not enough people showed up for hillary. people are still saying that, as a matter of fact.

as i and many other people have been pointing out for the past eight years, hillary won the popular vote by a margin of several million, and still lost. at that scale you simply can not blame things on voter turnout. i don't really know what to say at that point. trump's 2016 victory really just pitch perfectly illustrated in a way too blatant to ignore that the US presidential election does not represent the will of the public. but people will do literally anything to keep viewing the state of US politics as a result of people Voting Wrong and Being Too Stupid To Understand What's At Stake

as always, we are not allowed to hold the democrats accountable for delivering nothing to their constituents, but we can hold the constituents responsible for not showing up like loyal dogs to beg for whatever table scraps harris's campaign vaguely pretended to offer us. surely this strategy will work in 2028! see you all then.

[burningcheese-merchant]

When Burning Spice was introduced a lot of people made comparison with Capsaicin, and even thought they were related. You have any thoughts on that?

I do, and you're all probably going to be very disappointed lol

Not only do I NOT vibe with the idea that they're related, I'm actually really annoyed that it's as popular as it is lol. It doesn't even make sense. Burning Spice was in prison for thousands of years; when, where and how did he have a kid? At what point in time did this occur? Capsaicin is a young man. A regular mortal, outside of his "Spice Overlord" thing. I ask you all again: when? Where? How? WHY? Has anyone ever actually thought this through?

"ThEy LoOk SiMiLaR" okay, and? So fucking what? Neither of them own the concept of "long hair" or "muscles" or "sharp teeth". Pitaya has those too, and he has an arguably more substantial connection to Capsaicin because they're actually from the same fucking area. Happenstance. Lots of characters in this game have similar attributes, that doesn't necessarily mean anything

"ThEy'Re BoTh SpIcY" Refer to point A. Do you all think all the nut-based cookies are related, too? That's the logic you might as well be operating on. Correlation is not causation

"Blah blah both jail" you know how many characters in this whack-ass phone game count as felons, bro? How many of them SHOULD count as felons lol? The Cookie Run universe might as well be one giant Alcatraz with all the shit these little affronts to God get up to every day, I ain't making them all each other's relatives because of it

They're the wrong ages for them to be family. Burning Spice was serving a life sentence since long before Capsaicin was even thought of, he literally got out after the guy was already a grown ass man. They're not even from the same fucking CONTINENT! Capsaicin has probably never even HEARD of Beast-Yeast! Even that little comic the CRK Twitter account posted makes fun of all this shit!!! The Wild Spices mistake Cap for Spice from behind, and then get confused when he turns around because THEY VERY CLEARLY DO NOT KNOW WHO HE IS AND HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE! Wouldn't an army know if their general had a son, even if it was only mentioned in passing? Wouldn't THIS army have a vested interest in having their general's son around if he existed, and stop at nothing to bring him home should he vanish, to gain favor with Spice and because of how powerful Capsaicin is and how useful he could be to them?

I wouldn't be so bent out of shape about all this if it wasn't LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYWHERE!!! I cannot enjoy any content of Burning Spice OR Capsaicin without having to endure a fucking barrage of "hurr durr father and son" posts!!! I just want to ogle my hot, sexy, deliciously evil spice man BY HIM-FUCKING-SELF in peace, I never asked to have to hear the exact fucking same "hi son I came back with the milk" joke over and over and over again

I know I sound like a massive dick right now and I'm truly sorry. You are more than welcome to think of these two as related in some way if you wish. I am not your mother, nor your leader, nor your god, I'm just some cringe loser on the internet. Enjoy this game and its characters in whatever way you choose. I even actually like a good bit of the father/son art, a lot of it is cute and funny. I'm able and willing to say that with complete sincerity.

I just wish I didn't have to feel like it's being forced on me. That is one of the biggest issues I have with this fandom: how oppressive it often feels. You MUST ship this particular pairing, you MUST headcanon these characters as family, you MUST take this one-off joke that was clearly just a goddamn joke and preach it 24/7/365 like it's the gospel truth that Devsis themselves wrote on stone tablets and delivered from the top of Mount Sinai. And then when someone doesn't want to do that, everyone else descends upon them like a plague of fucking locusts. I actually saw a Dad Spice + Son Cap post on here with the person who made it saying something like "ok since everyone agrees that these two are family [...]" and I just got so fucking irritated. No, actually, not everyone agrees. Not everyone agrees on a lot of the fanon that's shoved down the entire community's throats on a regular basis. PLEASE stop acting like they do. I still remember when people would get flat-out harassed for not acting like Herb is Sea Fairy's son (old ass drama lol).

Say what you will about me, I'm just one person and you can block me or whatever dumb tags I use for my dumb shit. There is NOWHERE I can go to avoid this. Twitter? Plagued. Tumblr? Plagued. Even fucking reddit is on this nonsense (only in my personal opinion). But that's what I get for acknowledging Reddit in any capacity lol

I shall once again sincerely apologize for my harsh tone here, I am not attacking you personally or anyone who headcanons these two as relatives. I am just generally, profoundly frustrated and I need to get it out. I appreciate you taking the time to ask me an honest question, I hope you can forgive me for my painfully honest answer

[ogdit]

This Post is by someone that wants to remain anonymous, they DM'd me this and asked me to post

The callout campaign against Kagebros has gone WAY too far. The lengths these people have gone to violate someone’s boundaries and privacy in order to “warn” people is incredibly excessive and is dealing horrible damage to their mental health and wellbeing. It needs to fucking stop.

The situation has spiraled completely out of control, spurred on by people who would rather side with a proud AI artist than have a civilized, adult discussion about tracing. Said AI artist has a history of attempting to ruin Kagebros’ credibility, spreading disinformation and rumors about them and their nonprofit charity zines, now going as far as to allegedly incite people to nonconsensually take photos of them at their booth at TFcon Baltimore, and block-evading their socials in order to find more posts to pick apart.

As they have stated already, Kagebros never had ANY intention to scam people, which understandably doesn’t change how those affected may feel. That being said, they could have very easily traced over things without altering them in any way at all, like many others within the convention vending sphere have blatantly done without a callout from these same people who care so much about “calling out tracing”. There tends to be a gray area in the realm of tracing techniques within the art industry (especially professionally), and there is plenty of merit for their actions to be criticized. As they’ve stated, they were under the impression that Official artwork/figures were okay to trace over and alter, which they now know to avoid doing so in the future. Even if the details and credibility of the piece can be scrutinized, they still made a conscious effort to alter the pieces in question to be more original.

Although said effort may not be enough for most, they now KNOW that. End of story. They can't immediately change the pieces they had available for sale, and they should be showing change through their future pieces and actions, which is something that’s up for judgment by anyone. And yet the people starting this have needlessly dragged it on, inciting others to keep spreading the accusations to further audiences, leading to more harassment.

Seafoamsol had admittedly unblocked Kagebros and “offered” to have a talk with them about the situation, but their own intentions are extremely questionable, as a conversation should have been the first priority, rather than a callout post. They assumed Kagebros’ intentions without giving them a single chance to address it themselves before the callout, and are now going forward with the narrative of them being a scammer.

Again, if they truly were concerned, they could have unblocked them and had a conversation before the callout was made, instead of assuming their intentions were to deceive people.

The situation is very nuanced, meaning there's a lot of points to be acknowledged on both sides in order to come to a conclusion, which could have happened peacefully if adults just had a civil discussion with each other. There is a justifiable talk to be had here, and reasonable changes to be made, but this can’t be accomplished productively if people continue to jump to conclusions and assume intentions. This has done nothing–and WILL do nothing–but hurt people, if this behavior doesn’t stop. mistakes will be made, lessons will be learned. Please look at this situation in its entirety before coming to your own conclusions based on assumptions made by people with evidently questionable motives and a history of causing problems for others and driving them out of the community. 

Thank you for reading.

[janeeyrewannabe]

are we rockin with simon paired up with a reader who cries a lot 🤥

big cryer big sobber

oh we are

not proofread sorry 😕

wc: <1000

as a crybaby myself this is very close to my heart. Maybe you’re crying about something insignificant or maybe something just feels off. It honestly doesn't take much to set you off. I don’t think simon has a problem with you expressing emotion, i think that he just doesn’t know how to react. The way your shoulders shake as you sob with your head in your hands doesn’t exactly bring out a pleasant feeling in him.

I think that as time goes on he handles it with more grace. He knows what makes you feel better and what will make things worse (he’s learned that one the hard way). Simon says shit just to say shit and it does not help anyone 99 percent of the time. You’ve never witnessed someone screw something up so badly and find all the right words in the same sentence.

This time you’re crying about some asshole at work. Simon’s well versed in the mechanics of your emotional turmoil at this point. He’ll cradle you in his arms and whisper saccharine words of support in your ear. The pressure of his strong hold around your body and your heart calm you down better than any substance ever could. With your head on his chest, the smooth thump of his heartbeat is interrupted by Simon's voice, “I’ll take care of it for you baby.”

You take it as a joke with a breathy laugh and snort following his statement, but the stern look on his face shows he’s dead serious. You won't be surprised if you see him tomorrow with bruised knuckles and a busted lip. It’s not the first time and it won't be the last.

The only time simon likes to see you cry is when you’re having sex. Lithe body beneath him, face contorted in pleasure. Mouth wide open with loud obscene moans tumbling out that would make a pornstar blush, eyes glossed over with exhaustion. You’re on round whatever at this point. The friction of the coarse hair above his cock against your clit makes it all even more painful. He sees your pained expression, red eyes and mascara covered cheeks. “what’s wrong baby, hmm?” condescending tone dripping with honey.

“Please simon” your words are barely audible but the way his name rolls off your tongue makes him drop his head and groan into your neck. He’s taking his sweet time tonight, languid strokes in a painstakingly constant rhythm, tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “come inside me please, I need you” you say with furrowed brows and desperation creeping in your voice as hot tears stream down your face. He won't admit the effect that this has on him though, not explicitly. You can see it anyways, the way his grunts become more frequent and his white knuckle grip on the sheets beside your head.

You’re so far gone you can't even form words anymore, only gasps and incoherent jumbles of vowels. Simon slips one of his hands between the two of you, thumbing your clit with the conviction of a madman. The new sensation of his firm touch is the final straw that “Oh, god, oh my god, im gonna-” You reach your peak convulsing under his body with your slick running down between the two of you and onto the bed sheets. The atmosphere in your shared space hot and heavy with lust.

“Please,” you whine as you angle your hips towards him and the new position sends him over the edge. His orgasm has him seeing white. He collapses on top of you and his body weight crushed you only a little bit. The feeling of your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck combined with a sniffle pulls Simon out of his delirious state.

“Feeling better?” he says with a familiar condescending tone.

sorry for not posting for like a month, every time I sit down to write I hate everything about it 😊 I have some more things cooking up don't worry 😈😈 u guys know the drill, please comment and like and reblog!!!!! 🤍🤍🤍

[huenistar]

the txt members as brainrot

(fuck @/always4gowon u trump supporting bitch i hope u and you mama fall down the fucking stairs, poorly educated prolly a casserole eater (white person) fuck. u dont understand how politics works and u should not have an opinion. i wouldnt be surprised if ur IQ was under 70 because ur dumbass self brings religion into politics but the thing is u believe in a religion that has more sexual abusers and pedophiles than normal, well educated, independent, mentally stable people thats js crazy imo!! hope u get mental help cause something aint right in ur brain, you think slower than the average person and i wouldnt be shocked if u was a white female who lives in Delaware. fuck your racist ass and fuck ur mama for raising you like that)

i dont fuck with the trump supporting individuals, this post WAS but is not inspired by anyone that i know of. idgaf if u “made” this trend or wtv, until u show and tell me you political beliefs and views this post is my idea idgaf

thank u for reading that and i dont give 2 shits if u agree or not, as a woc i have the right to say this idea is mine until you show that ur beliefs are the same as mine. im not giving any credit to a fucker who wants abortion gone, immigrants gone, groceries higher and who brings up religion when we are discussing something that could genuinely affect more than 3 billion lives

doing the txt members cause i didnt script a friend group in my txt dr, and no i do not affiliate myself with that weirdass ho. lets continue on though

YEONJUN | 연준

fein, lunchly, thats what they called me in highschool

“fein fein fein fein” how about u start feining for a job!!!! IM TIRED OF HEARING FEIN

“5 minutes before we go on stage” “fein fein fein fein fein fein feinnn ohhh yeah fein fein” i have unwillingly picked up this habit

“did u guys see that four legged beast over there” “thats what they called me in highschool”

i cant say Shit around rhis man without him saying “thats what they called me in highschool” YOU ARE 25 YEARS OLD.

“i like my cheese drippy bruh” how about i slap u into next week u poorly educated bafoon

SOOBIN | 수빈

gap gap wap wap, 𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓮𝓮��𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 𝓿𝓻𝓸, sigma/beta/alpha

2 am at the dorm, the sounds u will hear is

loud clicking noises (beomgyu playing games)

‘hmmm’ every 5 seconds (yeonjun deciding on what clothes to buy)

laughing and giggling (tyunning watching a tiktok together)

and soobin saying “gap gap wap wap” for the 289th time that day (KEEP IN MIND THAT ITS TWO AM.)

“𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 𝓿𝓻𝓸” ur born in 2000 and im born in 2002 if we think harder about this i have the right to sue u

instead of u saying “𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 𝓿𝓻𝓸” to me how about u get a girlfriend and say that to her u LOSER.

“ur definitely a beta and im definitely an alpha” im employed what does this mean?

“isn’t hueningkai so sigma” uhmmmmm what

BEOMGYU | 범규

livvy dunne, baby gronk, gyat, everything.

most brainrotted of them all. hes too far gone

“oh my gyat what the skibidi!! livvy dunne got a sigma gyat and vro i just saw this edit an epik moa made of me and i look like such a mogger in it instead of a POTATO ;-; 🤫🧏 THOSE WHO KNOW💀💀 gimme mah kookey :c”

he uses any and ALL brainrot from ALL OF THE YEARS. how are u using vro and talking like ur role playing in “Adopt and Raise a Cute Baby🏠” ???

nothing he says makes sense at this point.

TAEHYUN | 태현

i forgor, perchance, paracetamol, galvanized square steel

he’s secretly brainrotted dont let his magic tricks fool u.

“hey taehyun” “wait i forgor” “HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭😭😭😭😂😂😂😂😂”

it was a SPELLING MISTAKE. NOT ME ACTUALLY SAYING I FORGOR.

“i forgor but this might perchance be paracetamol” he MIGHT use sigma every once in a while

“paracetamol, paracetamol, perchance paracetamol”

LORDDDDD SHUTT ITTTT IVE BEEN HEARING GAP GAP WAP WAP, FEIN, GYAT, RIZZ, AND PARACETAMOL ALL DAY.

he tries to be all big, buff and mysterious but if u say perchance he bust out laughing and suddenly everyone can hear him.

he genuinely watches those galvanized square steel videos because he thinks he needs to know how to build a house for 1.982 decilion people.

“perchance this is galvanized square steel and can u get me some… i forgor oh i remember! can u get me some paracetamol?” and keep in mind, HES LAUGHING AS HES SAYING THIS ??

HUENINGKAI | hueningkai in kr

rizz, sus, BOII 🫱🫱🫱, 👌

ik u saw that clip of hueningkai saying taehyun is lizz king.

he uses rizz on a daily basis

“you have so much rizz on stage..” STOP IT.

“this is so sus.. like among us his evil laugh”

i fear he says “BOII” whenever hes playing games with yeonjun

“look at my shoes dude… 👌” you are 22 years old not 12 years old.

“should i turn to my left or right when i do this?” “ur left side looks so sus today.. ur right side has so much rizz!!!”

I ASKED YOU WHICH SIDE LOOKS BETTER NOT WHICH ONE HAS MORE RIZZ.

[beanarie]

here's another scene for the fic i posted a day or two ago. alternate title: rip philip buckley.

the messenger part two

"I don't want to go," Evan said.

Tommy glanced up from the flight listings on his tablet. Since finishing his delayed shower (alone), Evan had perched on the far end of the bed with his back turned. "All anyone there knew was a nineteen year-old who failed at everything. It- It was never home."

Tommy put the tablet aside. "Evan, I don't give a shit if you go or not." That was blunt even for him, bordering on cruel, but Evan gave a watery laugh. He heard what Tommy didn't say. You're the only thing I care about. Make the decision that's right for you.

Evan made a sad sound and crawled into Tommy's arms. "She's going to be so much," he grated out, his head against Tommy's chest. It wasn't comfortable. Evan ran warm as a baseline. Tonight he felt like he had a fever. "I don't think I can handle it. But I can't- I can't do that to Maddie. What kind of garbage person would make her deal with that alone?"

Tommy ran his fingers through Evan's damp hair. "Maddie won't be alone." Her husband was literally one of the best people Tommy had ever met. Howie had grabbed her hands the instant she and Evan had separated, and hadn't let go of her the entire time. He'd still been holding on when they'd left, Evan bringing up the rear toting a sleeping Jee-Yun.

"Not the same," Evan said, which was true, but Tommy didn't care, not right then.

Tommy looked over at his buzzing phone. "Listen-"

Evan didn't shake. He vibrated, a low level hum throughout his body. "Just let me pretend for a minute that we're not going."

"Okay."

One hand made a loose fist, gathering the fabric of Tommy's shirt at the small of his back. "We're gonna stay here on the other side of the country while they bury my dad. I won't have to hear my mom crying like her heart is in worse shape than his was. No one will tell me I'm a bad son who never came to visit."

Tommy rested his chin on the top of Evan's head. An angle his neck didn't enjoy, but it was worth it. "If anyone so much as thinks that in your direction, I will punch them in the throat."

Evan ran his fingers down Tommy's forearm. "They didn't even tell us he was having surgery."

"Would it have helped?" Tommy asked in all sincerity. They'd both witnessed death numerous times. Was it better when loved ones could see the loss coming? Not always.

"I don't know," Evan admitted. "But things were- they were better, you know? We talked on purpose sometimes and it went fine. I don't understand why they didn't at least tell Maddie."

"Do you think she'll try to throw it in your face at some point?"

Evan flinched, proving Tommy's guess had hit its mark. "God, I- I hate thinking of her that way. She's my mom."

"Motherhood doesn't come with emotional regulation, unfortunately."

"She was better," Evan said again. He exhaled loudly. "Maybe it- it won't be so bad."

"Maybe. I'm here regardless."

After a moment of silence, Evan lifted himself up with a hand on either side of Tommy's hips. They kissed quietly, and he laid his forehead on Tommy's shoulder. "What did I do," he asked, almost to himself. "What did I do to deserve you?"

If pressed, Tommy could rattle off a list. But Evan didn't need to hear about his willingness to set himself on fire for someone he loved, or about how he could see in a glance that Tommy was having a bad day, about how quickly he'd learned what Tommy needed at times like those. "You were you. That's all you ever needed to be."

[utilitycaster]

anyway this is obviously a wild shift in the topic of conversation, but I was talking about it in the group chat last night as a distraction and would like to continue the distraction if I am being honest, so, with the caveat that this is based off of Fandom Osmosis Observations and a few reads of reviews and I have at this time played neither of these games, some thoughts about BG3 vs. Veilguard and what I've seen. many thanks to @captainofthetidesbreath for actually knowing things about video games and answering my many questions.

also just putting this up front with all said caveats: if you disagree that is great, I am very open that this is an outside observation and I could be very wrong but I am going to block people who get hostile without warning, and make this nonrebloggable if too many people get hostile. You are always permitted to disagree but like, I don't really care about your opinion if you're not someone with whom I have a pre-existing rapport unless idk you're like, actually a BG3 or Veilguard official story writer who happens to be on Tumblr. If you're a player? You have all of your own biases and they are not mine. Save it for someone who wants to get in a fight about this; I am not that person.

Essentially, what I've seen in terms of criticism from Veilguard that isn't just rampant transphobia comes down to the following:

why am I not playing my previous character from Inquisition again

why am I limited to a fairly consistent through line for the story

But first, I'm going to talk about BG3. What's funny is I seem like a much more obvious candidate for playing BG3, as a longtime D&D player who has come around on Forgotten Realms as a setting. However, while I looked at it for a while, I eventually lost interest for a couple of reasons. One is that apparently all the characters are WAY too eager to romance you which is like, a fun fantasy for 10 minutes but would probably annoy me in the long run. Another is that everyone who watched early reviews and kept abreast with the game told me that there was a clear favorite companion (Astarion) and that many of the characters had most of their interesting flaws sanded down (eg: Wyll was apparently much cockier originally; Shadowheart even more petulant; and as these are perhaps the two characters I was most intrigued by, reducing them to something blander destroyed much of the appeal). But perhaps the most interesting one is that as a boring goodie two shoes sort of person, my thought back when I was like "yeah, perhaps I will play this" was "oh, I do not want to have a murderous urge within me."

It became very apparent, through watching people play through and post on my dash, that if you didn't specifically play as the Dark Urge, and didn't specifically resist that urge, the story didn't really cohere. I have to admit, I know the premise of BG3 very well (tadpoles), and I know a lot of shipping trends (put a pin in that), and I know some of the more obvious points within it (Astarion is a vampire, Gale and Karlach both have bombs in their chests somehow, Shadowheart bleaches her hair) but I don't really have a great sense of the ending, and I did not avoid spoilers.

It feels like BG3 is designed for people who have one of those massive spreadsheets of D&D characters they haven't had a chance to play that are meticulously kept and thoroughly realized...and don't really leave room for modifying to fit the campaign you will actually be playing in. It feels like an OC sandbox simulator unless you do actually pick the choice the writers actually wrote for (Durge), and while it's not technically playersexual...it kinda is. I mean, I am a big fan of the trend in video games towards making it possible to romance anyone because it conjures up the idea of a world of high-powered bisexuals running around, which is very enjoyable for me, but the criticism of the Mary Sue archetype originally was never "how dare you fantasize about being cool." It was "wow, the characterizations are all warped beyond recognition solely so that everyone is in love with this character, and that makes for a dull and unsatisfying story." If you're everyone's type, and it's for romance and not just sheer lust, then either everyone around you is boring and wants the same thing, or you are sort of bland and inoffensive, or else the story is bashing characters together without a good basis for a compelling romance. This is also compounded by the fact that the companions can't get together with each other if you're playing your own character and not an Origins character.

None of this is to say it's bad to like BG3 and again, I didn't play it; but it is why I ultimately said "you know, given the effort involved to play it for me, a person without a gaming system, it's not worth it."

Veilguard has specifically intrigued me for going against a lot of this. You have a lot of choices in your character build, but they're all fairly thematically consistent: you did something within your faction that was well-intentioned but upset higher-ups and so you need to step away for a while. This establishes a personality for you! We know why you're part of a faction but also something of a free agent at the moment. We know why you're here and why you might be a good candidate for the current mission.

I'm not going to go into detail for the choices because while I'm not avoiding spoilers I don't want to spoil a relatively new game for others, but a lot of choices are fairly parallel, not in an "illusion of choice" way - they have consequences - but in terms of hitting similar themes. You can only save one city and both are places you have seen and places your companions have connections to; while the exact details may differ you are telling a consistent story.

I also think the fact that the companions can romance each other in your absence is important too! They exist even when you're not there. They are not just here to woo you, and indeed, they might be a better match for each other. I've been informed this is true in Inquisition as well, and I think it's a much more rich world if you, as the player, as the person who can ultimately decide the fates of your companions, aren't the center of their personal life. I also think it prevents the ability to sand down companions to be more agreeable to you as a player if you have to make an NPC/NPC romance compelling (and I will freely admit that, in a move that is not at all like me, I was pretty well sold by a potential in-game NPC/NPC romance, which is usually not the thing that gets me into works of fiction).

I'm not the right person to speak to the Inquisitor not being a significant character because I did not play DA:I, and I get that 'well, this is a new game with a new protagonist, as there has been for every Dragon Age game' is still not necessarily an adequate explanation. Nor is "hey, maybe it's good to attract new players" even though as someone who is highly attracted as a new player that is my opinion. However, I want to go back to the point about Resist Durge being the strongest option in BG3 in terms of story by a long shot. When I was trying to learn more, I said "ok, so just like how you're Tav in BG3 and Rook in Veilguard, you're Lavellan in Inquisition, right?" and was told that you are not - that's just the elvish Inquisitor option. Obviously this is anecdotal, but the fact that one option was far and away the most popular and thematically resonant is an indication that perhaps bringing forth the Inquisitor is carrying over some of the limitations of that game, whatever they may be. The true argument is "they are trying to tell a specific story here, and it is about a different POV than the one you previously had."

And that's really my point. I know I'm not an expert here - in fact I'm usually quite hesitant to write meta about things in which I'm not highly steeped, and very critical of those people who do - but I think an outsider perspective is useful here. The thing that is drawing me to video games is a new way to experience a fictional narrative (the other game I have been meaning to play - and even own on Steam- is Disco Elysium). That's not what everyone wants! But it is what I want. And so I want to be put into a developed, thoughtful narrative, and I don't mind if my choices are restricted in order to support it, and if I am playing a person I did not entirely choose. In tech, there is a saying of "make it easy to make the right choice (and hard to make the wrong one)" and so if you need your protagonist to hit certain beats, you should make that the required protagonist.

I think a story is stronger if your choices matter but if there is something of a foregone conclusion because it gives the writers thematic throughlines. This might sound a little silly given that this blog is largely dedicated to Actual Play but the thing is, most actual play does have, if not a foregone conclusion, at least a strongly intended conclusion of "work towards uncovering this mystery and achieving this goal", though the success of said goal is not guaranteed. I would argue that when a campaign lacks that, it tends to suffer in all aspects. RPG video games almost always have a foregone conclusion, but that's its own liability. In actual play, lacking a forgone conclusion means you spin off in any direction and it's anyone's guess if it's coherent. In an RPG, having this conclusion but not supporting it through the rest of the game will make it feel contrived. I feel a lot of Veilguard criticism is focusing on small contrivances early on that really mostly matter to a highly specific subset of potential players that prevent much larger and less forgiveable contrivances later on.

Anyway. Again, I am an outsider here, and I'm not here to say that it's bad to have a more open-world, sandboxy game with a self-insert-y OC type; but I have to be honest, I'd rather explore that in a true sandbox of fanfiction or original fiction, which is significantly cheaper and in which I can actually tell the entire story I want to tell. I don't want to be given more choices if a lot of them will be profoundly unsatisfying as a narrative. I don't want to cut through the world like a hot knife through butter. I want to be affected by it, and that's very hard to do with a character whose only trait is "self-insert whom everyone wants to fuck" or "guy that already carries the baggage of years of personal headcanons and highly variable choices that are hard to account for for every single person who ever played the previous game."

[elrielbaby]

What do you think of the Gwynriels being too confident in their ship? Are you sure Az has feelings for Gwyn and is always looking for her and stuff? And what are they matte?

I have tried, really really tried, to see where they’re coming from. I’ve re read the books multiple times to ensure I’m not missing any context, I’ve looked at it through every angle possible and I still cannot fathom why they are so confident.

I have a couple of theories as to why they’re so confident and I’m feeling a little spicy today, so I’ll share. I could go in to heavy detail, but I’ll try keep it brief anon.

1. They hate Elain and so are looking for any other option. Literally anyone. G*yn happens to be in the bonus chapter and so they go with that, without really thinking about it* (I will circle back to this).

2. They blindly follow the word of one or two people online.They don’t like Elain, or they love L*cien (and they totally miss all the clues that say L*cien doesn’t actually want Elain but that’s a whole other can of worms) and so they accept other people’s interpretations - which those people very intentionally present as fact, and use them as a jumping off point, so when they go back to the books they have that other persons narrative in their head that far better suits their ideals and so they’re looking, twisting, turning any and all of the narrative to fit that. They are gaslighting themselves, basically.

3. They don’t re read the books and they don’t open themselves up to any other possibility. I can say for myself that before I started posting online about elriel, I had heard about G*riel after reading the books and re read them to be sure. I’m nearly positive a lot of them don’t do that, and either never re read or re read as per the second point.

As to the second part of this question, I don’t believe he’s got feelings for G*yn, nor do I think he’s always looking for her - so, I’m very sure of that. If you meant Elain, it’s pretty obviously laid out in the text, without SJM having Azriel and Elain say ‘I’M IN LOVE WITH HIM/HER AND I DONT CARE WHO KNOWS IT’ - because how does that make any sense when they haven’t had their book? If they had, I’d be less sure of their endgame.

As for the last part, I’m going to assume you’re asking if I think either G*yn or Elain are mated to Azriel. I do not believe G*yn is Azriels mate. At all. There are a few signs that Az & Elain could be, but it truly doesn’t matter to me if they are or not. I think SJM has been metaphorically winking at us with some of the things she’s said about them but it could go a number of ways, in terms of wether they’re mates or not.

One things for certain though - they’re endgame ❤️

* to circle back to them not really thinking about it, as I didn’t want to bog down the main text with this, they don’t seem to consider a number of different things.

They don’t consider that it’s a limited bonus chapter that was only available for one specific book store. It is not available in the copies of ACOSF you can buy now, nor was it available in a huge number of copies you could buy at its initial release.

They don’t seem to consider that if you remove the bonus chapter, we still have four books that include build up for them. It literally makes no odds as to wether the bonus matters or not. For them though? Most of their argument relies on that bonus chapter.

They don’t seem to consider any other reason as to why G would be in that bonus chapter. None whatsoever. The Elain part was explicitly romantic and if you look at G’s part there is no romanticism in sight. The ‘spark’ happened after a conversation with Clotho, not even when G was present. Almost like G didn’t actually have anything to do with it at all. If you connect the dots to the main text, at least for my interpretation, you have Elain & Az, who very clearly have feelings for one another. You have G, who has a powerful affect on Nesta, and Clotho who also has, to a smaller extent, a powerful affect on Nesta.

And those are just the few things off the top of my head that I have the bandwidth to come up with right now. ❤️

[alexthesillybilly]

An Analysis on William Afton and Henry Emily’s Relationship and Queer Subtext

Since the reveal of Glamrock Bonnie and his room in the Ruin DLC, I’ve thought a lot on the subtext of Henry and William’s relationship, and how it seems like a queer relationship hidden under layers of denial and guilt.  I’ve always loved to analyze and connect small details and I wanted to write something about my ideas. My point here isn’t to convince anyone of anything, just to share my interpretation of their story. So enjoy me rambling for a few pages!

Fazbear Entertainment's Origins

Fredbear’s Family Diner was created sometime before 1983- and since merchandise and other spin-off things had been created at that time, it can be assumed it had been running since the late 70s.  The 70s-80s were an extremely pivotal time for the LGBTQ+ community, for its rights and awareness - this links into another point I have, on the Glamrock animatronics and that being a very queer subculture.  This in itself wouldn’t say anything about their relationship, not really, but when certain throwaway lines are considered - mainly the lines about William’s obsession with Henry (which I’ll discuss more later) and another line I want to analyse a little now.  

As you already know, at Fredbear’s, Henry performed as Fredbear himself while William performed as SpringBonnie. In FNaF World, the loading screen for SpringBonnie simply reads, “Male? Female? It’s a rabbit, who cares.”  Yes, this is just a loading screen. It probably doesn’t mean anything intentionally, but I saw somebody make a really good point on it - credit for the idea goes to this post. It says that SpringBonnie being genderless could’ve had two reasons - one being William lacking the words for a nonbinary identity, and the other being William intentionally keeping SpringBonnie genderless so it could be assumed that they were Fredbear’s love interest. 

As I mentioned earlier, the glamrock subculture of the 70s was extremely queer, with new takes on gender, androgyny, and overall theatrics related to breaking the norms of the 60s.  This adds context to Security Breach’s characters, Glamrock Freddy and Bonnie.

The Glamrocks

Since the beginning of the franchise, both in-universe and as a game series, Freddy and Bonnie have always been together, in every game, even going so far as to be physically connected as Funtime Freddy and BonBon in Sister Location - which in itself could be William’s jealousy and obsession towards Henry intensifying after being kicked from Fazbear Entertainment. But Glamrock Freddy and Bonnie are the most interesting of their variants. These two are basically canonically queer, which is big. 

I have a specific take on their relationship I haven’t seen elsewhere (though I’m sure someone else thinks this, too).  First of all, I’ll do a rundown on how their relationship is portrayed in SB and Ruin. 

In Security Breach, Glamrock Freddy mentions Bonnie a few times - only to say he misses him.  We don’t get any context on him other than that, though the “theory” that is heavily implied is that Monty destroyed Bonnie out of jealousy, which is the theory I’ll expand on after my explanation.  

In the Ruin DLC however, things change.  Through turning off all the Wet Floor Bots, a secret room will open- containing more of these bots, but more importantly, Glamrock Bonnie himself.  He’s destroyed, like the other Glamrock animatronics by this point, but it’s obvious he’s been like this for much longer.  The more important part is his room. 

In Glamrock Bonnie’s room, a few things related to my point can be found - first of all, the Glam Freddy merchandise found around the room, which I could connect into William’s obsession with Henry, but most notably (and as you were probably waiting for me to mention), the poster.  There’s a poster on the wall of Bonnie’s room, of Glamrock Freddy.  It’s written on, and it reads: “You & me forever and ever!  Love, Freddy”.  So, pretty obvious implications here - it gets real hard to argue that they were simply friends.

Now, onto the point about Monty I mentioned earlier.  As is implied, Monty destroyed Bonnie out of jealousy- and likely was planning to do the same to Freddy.  I won’t bring up every example, but many times Monty is seen being violent towards statues, cutouts, etc. of Freddy and Bonnie.  So my theory here is that Monty represents William’s jealousy of Henry turning into violence. 

We’re not exactly sure what William was jealous of Henry about, but it can be assumed it was about family or something to do with the business.  Monty was obviously jealous over fame.  I like to think that Freddy and Bonnie before Monty represent when Henry and William first opened Fredbear’s, before the Bite of ‘83, before any incidents happened.  Then Monty destroying Bonnie and becoming jealous of Freddy, represents when William kills Charlotte and starts becoming the Mr. Afton we know.  The whole storyline of Glam Freddy, Bonnie, and Monty seems similar to William and Henry’s story to me.

But enough about them- let’s talk about the real depictions of William’s obsession and jealousy.

Their Downfall

I’ve mentioned it enough times now.  William’s violent obsession and jealousy of Henry led to Charlotte’s death, likely out of William’s anger because Henry’s family seemed so perfect compared to William’s.  Now I’m onto FNaF 6. 

Henry wants to end the whole tragedy once and for all, and he finds William in the form of Scraptrap.  While setting your old best friend and possible lover on fire and then banishing them to hell might not seem too romantic to most, I’ve always liked to point out that Henry’s final words to William are, “don’t keep the devil waiting, old friend.” Something about Henry still referring to William as a friend even in a time like this, after everything, strikes me some way, that even through all the years of grieving, Henry could never make himself hate William.  Even to the very end, he just can’t do it.

This next one is a bit of a stretch, but then again, this entire essay is built on the idea that two FNaF characters have repressed gay love for eachother, so who really cares what’s more reasonable or not? 

I like to think that Orville Elephant and Mr. Hippo represent what Henry believed could’ve been, if William hadn’t grown violent.  Mr. Hippo talks to the player in Ultimate Custom Night, his stories mainly focusing on him and his friend Orville.  The player of UCN is likely meant to be William Afton himself, trapped in his own hell by Cassidy.  Some of Mr. Hippo’s stories can be read as metaphors.  If you want to read all his dialogue go ahead, but here’s a few lines that stand out to me. (I’ve taken out some repeated words to make them easier to read.)

“Y'know, I never saw any ducks die myself, but I did notice a substantial decrease in the duck population over the course of a few years. I just never thought to stop the man and tell him that he was killing the ducks by feeding them sourdough bread!”

To me, the line “I just never thought to stop the man and tell him that he was killing the ducks,” might be related to Henry not doing anything to stop or confront William about killing the kids until decades later, in fear of losing him.  

“I said to Orville, “You know, sometimes I feel like a fish leaping over and over again, always trying to get somewhere, though I don't know where, only to find myself in the jaws of a beast." He looked at me surprised, "Have you been in the jaws of a beast, friend?" To which I said, "No, of course not Orville." I said, "I simply meant that life can seem like a relentless endeavor to overcome meaningless obstacles, only to meet an equally meaningless fate regardless of your efforts, regardless of the obstacles you passed."

I don’t see this one as really related to William, just Henry’s rambles. I still figured I’d include it, though.

“…Perhaps I met a demise of my own at some point and this is my afterlife or my dream or whatever it might mean, I honestly don't know. Or maybe it doesn't mean anything at all. Maybe it doesn't mean anything at all...”

Another that isn’t related to William, but Henry’s internal feelings that everything he did was all for nothing.  I like to think of it as some of Henry’s last thoughts before dying in the FNaF 6 fire. 

Conclusion

There isn’t really a point to this all- just to tell people about my interpretation, really.  So thank you for listening to me ramble about the toxic old men I think about way too often! Of course, if I don’t say this I think I will be personally assassinated by some of the FNaF fans - THIS IS ALL MY INTERPRETATION!!  I’m not saying this is the canon true story, I just enjoy making little connections to create storylines!  Anyways, if you want to share your own interpretations go ahead!! If you read all this you are incredible ily